CHAPTER 36

In today's match, the spectacular debut performances of Adrian Blackwood and Cho Chang stunned Ravenclaw House. The two newcomers, both first-years, exhibited an explosive synergy that left the audience in awe. Ravenclaw's new Quidditch recruits this year were unexpectedly strong, and even the Slytherins—who had long treated Gryffindor as their primary rival—were taken aback. Slytherin had paid little attention to Ravenclaw's team, whom they saw as bookish and too delicate in playstyle, focusing more on Cedric Diggory's brute-force Hufflepuff squad. But Ravenclaw's sharp new lineup was rewriting that narrative fast.

With the acquisition of Harry Potter, the so-called "youngest Seeker in a century," Gryffindor had assumed the spotlight, drawing strategy shifts across the board. Their team had originally been focused on the Slytherins, but now, with Adrian's bold performance, their attention had started to drift toward Ravenclaw. Roger Davies, Ravenclaw's Captain, who had previously maintained a relaxed attitude, had transformed into someone startlingly reminiscent of Oliver Wood—fanatically passionate and organized. He had taken to carrying around three separate notebooks, painstakingly charting tactics, players' weak points, and inter-House Quidditch strategies, hoping to prepare Ravenclaw for a potential title run.

Hogwarts was buzzing with excitement—more than ever before—with chatter about this year's Quidditch season. Even Muggle-born students, many unfamiliar with the game's logic, found themselves swept into the fever. The Gryffindors, impressed by Harry's prowess during Madam Hooch's flying class, were confident he would surpass Adrian's opening performance. Meanwhile, Slytherins, led by Draco Malfoy, began sowing doubt and jeering in the Great Hall and in classes, attempting to undermine Harry's confidence before the big game.

The morning after Adrian's match, the aroma of grilled sausages filled the Great Hall, mingling with heated Quidditch discussions. Adrian, seated with his usual poise, speculated idly whether the house-elves saw sausages and broomsticks as somehow linked symbols of good luck.

"Adrian, do you have a moment?" came Harry Potter's hesitant voice from behind.

Adrian turned, catching sight of the bespectacled boy approaching him before he could even respond. He hurriedly sliced the last bit of sausage on his plate and swallowed, just as Hermione Granger—visibly exasperated—swept in to collect Harry's tray and follow.

Adrian gave a casual glance toward the staff table, noting that Dumbledore was watching the exchange with an amused twinkle in his eyes. Adrian softened his expression and said, "Of course, Harry. But it looks like you skipped breakfast."

"I just don't have the appetite," Harry muttered, discomfort flickering in his eyes. He still carried the habits of asking Muggle classmates for help. "How did you manage to play that well on your first try?"

"Trust me, Harry," Adrian said, eyes glittering, "once you're in the air, your doubts stay grounded. I heard Miss Granger took you to see your father's Quidditch honors?"

"Yes," Ron interrupted, looking baffled. "Honestly, Harry, it's weird. Hermione seems to know more about you than you do."

"No one knows less about me than I do…" Harry sighed. "Everything I learn about my family comes from other people's mouths."

"You really should eat something," Hermione scolded, sliding Harry's untouched plate in front of him. With a glare at Adrian, she turned to fetch a glass of pumpkin juice. As she did, her bushy hair flicked into Adrian's eyes, causing him to blink.

Ron leaned closer and muttered, "Sorry, Adrian. Hermione's a bit jealous. She's been second in everything lately—and you're racking up the House points like a madman."

Adrian rubbed his eyes and cast a side glance at Hermione, amused. The determined glint in her eyes and the way her front teeth peeked out reminded him of a niffler stubbornly sniffing out treasure.

"We'll keep you safe, Princess Potter!" The Weasley twins had suddenly appeared behind Harry, grinning from ear to ear. Fred clapped Harry on the back. "George and I are Beaters—we're your personal bodyguards. We can't promise it won't be rough, though."

"No one's ever died… probably," George added with a shrug. "But players do vanish for a few weeks every now and then. It's tradition."

"Get lost, you two," Ron snapped, waving them off. Then he turned back to Harry with a comforting smile. "They're joking, mate. Quidditch is amazing—you're going to love it. You'll be brilliant."

"Good luck out there, Potter," drawled a cold, oily voice from behind them. "I hear you're brave enough to go chasing monsters. Perhaps you believe you're as talented as Blackwood now. Let's see if that holds true once you're facing real opponents… like Slytherin."

Professor Snape, his robes billowing like a dark cloud, had somehow crept up unnoticed. His sneer curled as he cast a lingering glare between Harry and Adrian, then limped slightly as he turned and stalked from the Hall.

Adrian sighed inwardly. So much for improving my standing with the professor… One friendly exchange with Harry and I'm on his blacklist again.

"What's wrong with his leg?" Harry asked, frowning.

Edward, who had just finished eating at the Ravenclaw table, looked up and answered matter-of-factly, "You didn't hear? He's been limping for days. I noticed it just after Halloween."

"No wonder he didn't walk around when teaching us," Ron said loudly. "He didn't even punish Neville when Flitwick helped him fix his quill. I thought he'd gone soft!"

Harry leaned closer to Hermione and whispered, as quietly as he could, "I think Snape got bitten by the three-headed dog that night. He must've been trying to sneak past it, and the beast caught him. Explains the limp…"

"Professor Snape! Harry!" Hermione whispered sharply, her voice strained with urgency. "Why would he go near the three-headed dog? Its saliva contains magical enzymes that slow healing. That's why—oh—it makes sense… he's still limping."

Harry, deep in thought, didn't even respond to her concern. He muttered lowly, half to himself, "Hagrid took something out from Gringotts that day. He said it was Hogwarts business, top secret. That must be what the dog's guarding… and Snape's trying to steal it."

Across the table, Adrian Blackwood looked mildly uncomfortable as the two young Gryffindors carried on their private exchange, seemingly unaware that their "quiet" voices weren't exactly quiet. He briefly considered clearing his throat to subtly remind them of their surroundings—but thought better of it.

Still, the little disruption seemed to have a positive effect—Harry looked visibly more alert and engaged. Moments later, the trio—Harry, Hermione, and Ron—resumed eating breakfast at the Ravenclaw table, still clad in their Gryffindor robes. Adrian raised an eyebrow. So much for House pride, he mused silently.

By eleven o'clock, the Quidditch pitch was filled with cheers and chants, alive with a charged anticipation. It felt like the entire school had gathered for the event. House banners rippled in the breeze, enchanted to flash and shimmer in the team colors.

The Gryffindor team entered the waiting area, heads held high, their red robes catching the morning sun. Among them was Harry Potter, noticeably stiff as he adjusted his Seeker gear. Captain Oliver Wood leaned in toward the younger boy.

"Nervous, Potter?" Wood asked.

Harry gave a small nod. "A little."

"Totally normal," Wood said with a reassuring grin. "I was terrified before my first match."

"What about after it?" Harry asked.

"I don't remember," Wood replied honestly. "Bludger got me in the back two minutes in. Madam Pomfrey said I was out cold for a week."

Harry blinked. He had no further questions.

High up in the stands, Ron and Hermione had joined Seamus, Flitwick, and Neville. To support Harry, they'd made a large banner from an old sheet—still marked faintly by Scabbers' muddy pawprints—on which Dean Thomas had illustrated a roaring Gryffindor lion. Hermione had enchanted the lettering so that "POTTER MUST WIN" flashed with gold and scarlet.

Unfortunately for Gryffindor, Edward Corner had spotted their creative process earlier in the common room. Inspired, he'd improved on the idea and implemented a more dazzling version during Ravenclaw's last match—complete with spark-runes and illusion charms. The Slytherins, of course, took the opportunity to mock Gryffindor for "plagiarizing Ravenclaw's homework."

Some confused Hufflepuffs even mistook Gryffindor's banner for a cheap knock-off. Adrian, watching the rivalry unfold, let a small grin slip. The whole four-House spectacle suddenly reminded him of something more important—an opportunity, perhaps the opportunity—to investigate the secret behind Rowena Ravenclaw's statue.

Moving quickly, Adrian made an excuse and slipped from the stands. Under the concealing enchantments of his enchanted robe—woven with a built-in Disillusionment Charm—he raced across the grounds and up to Ravenclaw Tower. Inside, the common room was empty, as expected during a big match.

Recasting the room's silencing and privacy charms, Adrian moved a high-backed chair behind the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. With practiced agility, he stepped up and carefully placed the diadem above her stone-carved hair. At the same time, he retrieved the Magic Orb of the Goddess of Fortune from his system inventory.

Muttering an archaic incantation—its structure different from modern spellcraft—the orb began to glow. The soft radiance condensed into a focused beam that bathed the diadem in shimmering light. Slowly, the dust of ages peeled away, revealing the crown's true form.

It was breathtaking—wrought in the shape of a soaring eagle, its wings crafted from rows of flawless diamonds. The arc of each wing was delicate, sculpted with an artisan's precision. At the center, nestled in its body, gleamed a large sapphire that seemed to contain a sky of its own. Beneath that, a teardrop-shaped gemstone of identical color hung, catching and refracting light. Etched across the band, in delicate silver script, was Ravenclaw's maxim:

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

"Success," Adrian whispered with elation.

With a soft, mechanical click, the statue rotated smoothly to the side, revealing a hidden circular passage beyond. The hallway's walls were draped with deep blue velvet tapestries protected by ancient preservation charms. The embroidery was masterful, stitched with threads in eight distinct colors—red, black, white, purple, gold, green, blue, and silver.

The scenes portrayed were unmistakably personal—Adrian could recognize a tall, raven-haired witch in flowing sapphire robes—Rowena Ravenclaw herself. She appeared in various life moments: dueling beside Helga Hufflepuff, dining with Godric Gryffindor, studying arcane symbols with Salazar Slytherin. In some frames, she was accompanied by a shorter, blonde witch whom Adrian didn't recognize—perhaps a close friend or an apprentice.

One scene caught Adrian's eye—Ravenclaw standing tall, a wand raised in one hand, while above her loomed the incomplete silhouette of the castle. He found himself mentally comparing her stature to the tapestry of Gryffindor he'd seen earlier. She might actually be taller, he noted with some amusement.

Behind him, the entrance clicked shut—the statue sliding back into place with a rumble. Blue flame sconces along the passage lit one by one, revealing the corridor ahead. Adrian continued down, taking three winding turns before arriving at a towering bronze gate.

It was magnificent. Twin eagles faced each other at its center, wings flared, talons locked. Carved wave-like ripples radiated outward from the center, as if the gate were forged of frozen water. Two massive knockers hung from the middle, unmoving.

The design reminded Adrian of the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, though on a much grander scale. He slipped on the dragonhide gloves he'd used in Herbology, just in case, and raised his wand in his right hand while reaching for the knocker with his left.

He knocked three times.

The sound echoed like a tolling bell, resonating through the corridor. At once, the eyes of the eagles lit with sapphire light, converging into a glowing arcane screen. Upon it appeared a riddle—no, a declaration:

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."