The Eagle and the Badger's Discussion

The night was deep, and Hogwarts' clamor had sunk into slumber. Kayson, who had just been reminding Yulian not to snore, was now snoring himself, the sound like sawing wood.

Yulian, however, was not asleep. He closed his eyes and focused, his consciousness quietly slipping into the wonderland that belonged only to him: the Magic Resonance Library.

At the center of the library, the black cat who called himself the "Administrator," Murphy, was sprawled out on an open copy of Advanced Spatial Folding Theory: A Guide to Origami Cranes, his tail swishing lazily as he occasionally pawed at the edge of a page.

Yulian cleared his throat. "Murphy, wake up. I have serious business."

Murphy cracked open one eye lazily, his pupils gleaming like two differently colored gems in the dark. "Oh? It's you, little rookie. Here to ask about 'Animagus' again? Save it. You still struggle with turning a match into a needle."

"I don't struggle. Hey, that's not what I meant!" Yulian said helplessly. "I want to find books about Magic Nodes. You know... the kind that can sense Earth Vein Energy? Or something about Guardian Stone Tablets."

Murphy's ears perked up, and his tail stopped moving. He slowly sat up straight, eyeing Yulian with a look that said, "Kid, you've got some nerve."

"Magic Nodes?" He smoothed his whiskers with a paw, his tone suddenly turning serious, even a bit scholarly. "Hmm... there are indeed some. Like Strings of the Earth: On the Resonance Frequencies of Europe's Three Main Nodes, How to Set Up a Mini Ley Line in Your Own Backyard, and that one buried in the Restricted Section—What Voldemort Also Wants to Know: Node Stabilizers."

Yulian's eyes lit up. "Quick! Let me borrow them!"

Murphy snapped his paws shut, shaking his head with a regretful expression. "Insufficient permissions, dear Young Wizard. Your current mental power level is barely enough for Beginner Meditation: From Counting Sheep to Counting Magic Particles. Magic Nodes? Flip open a page of that, and you might wake up tomorrow with roots growing out of you, or start chatting with the castle stones."

"That dangerous?"

"More dangerous than being chased by Peeves shouting 'Snot-nose.'" Murphy hopped off the book pile, padded over to another shelf, hooked a book with the tip of his tail, and tossed it to Yulian. "Here, since you've already started Defense Against the Dark Arts, chew through this first. Build a foundation. Don't try to leap to the sky. Think you're Merlin reincarnated? Even Merlin had to learn not to blow up his cauldron as a kid."

Yulian caught the book. On the cover, embossed in gold, was the title: Defense Against the Dark Arts for Beginners: From Screaming and Running to Elegant Disarming (Includes Three Pepper Spray Spells).

"This... is way too basic?" Yulian's mouth twitched.

"Basic saves lives!" Murphy rolled over, flopping back onto the advanced theory book with a yawn. "Especially with the 'professor' you're dealing with now, who's got a breathing Post-it Note stuck to the back of his head. Learn something practical—like 'How to Pretend You're Just a Walking Rock When a Possessed Person Stares at You.'"

Yulian: "...Is that actually a chapter in this book?"

Murphy squinted, giving a mysterious smile. "Chapter Three. Title: On the Art of Keeping a Low Profile: When You Don't Want to Be a Dark Wizard's Breakfast."

Yulian: "...Thanks. I'll go memorize it now."

He turned to leave, but Murphy added lazily, "Oh, and next time, bring some catnip. This librarian's been under KPI pressure lately and needs some mental massage."

Yulian nodded, half-smiling, and slowly withdrew his consciousness from the library. Back in reality, he stared at the ceiling, the feel of that "escape guide" still lingering in his hands.

The next morning, Ravenclaw had no classes, so Yulian slept in—partly because he'd stayed up late reading. Yulian wasn't lazy, but he wasn't as disciplined as the protagonists in other fanfictions, who, rain or shine, got up early every day to exercise.

He'd noticed that as his magic grew, his body naturally improved from being washed by magical energy, even more effectively than regular physical training. Of course, that might just be an excuse for slacking off.

When Yulian reached the common room, almost all the first-year eagles were gathered, excitedly discussing something, along with quite a few Hufflepuff badgers.

Since they often had classes with the Hufflepuff first-years, they got along best with them. Besides, they couldn't stand Slytherin's "slyness" or Gryffindor's "recklessness."

That afternoon, they would have their first Flying Lesson with the Hufflepuff badgers. Everyone was looking forward to it, so many badgers and eagles had come to the Ravenclaw common room to continue the conversation they'd started in the Great Hall.

If Defense Against the Dark Arts had sparked curiosity about danger (though that spark had now been doused by Professor Quirrell), then Flying Lesson awakened the oldest, most romantic desire in every child's heart—whether wizard or Muggle—the desire to fly.

"I practiced riding a broom last year with my uncle in Ambury Valley. My uncle said I'm a flying genius!" said Wayne Hopkins, a Hufflepuff.

"What's that?" Kayson Moretti immediately looked up from his Pumpkin Juice, nearly knocking over his cup. "I was flying a Nimbus 1000 in my backyard when I was five! My dad said I was born for the Quidditch team—Keeper? No, no, Seeker!"

"Don't brag. The Nimbus series wasn't even in production when you were five." Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw, was clearly the research type. "I've checked the records. The Nimbus series only started production three years ago."

"Whatever, my eyesight is no joke. I can lock onto a fly fifty meters away, as long as it moves!" Kayson didn't care about Terry's doubt, pulling out his Golden Snitch model again.

"Yeah, your eyesight's definitely no joke. Last time, you wrote your homework so small it looked like fly specks, couldn't read a thing. Professor McGonagall sent it back." Edgar didn't hold back.

"That was a lighting issue!" Kayson's face reddened. "And I'd just drunk some hallucinogenic Whizzing Tea that day!"

"Hey, does flying really feel that good? I'm a bit... worried." Justin Finlay, a Muggle-born, didn't say the word "scared," but his fear was written all over his face.

Then Hannah Abbott, who was usually as quiet as a closed book, spoke up with rare volume: "Justin, don't worry. My uncle said the first time you ride a broom, it feels like being kissed by the wind!" Hannah's face was flushed; she'd never ridden a broom either.

The first-years gathered in a circle, chattering excitedly about the afternoon's Flying Lesson. The Ravenclaw common room was rarely this lively.

Some said they'd challenge vertical climbs, others wanted to try doing handstands in midair, and one swore they could tame a grumpy Comet 260—even though none of them had ever touched a broom.

This eager commotion soon caught the attention of the older students.

Roger Davies was leaning back in an armchair under the starry dome, flipping through a copy of Advanced Quidditch Tactics Analysis. He couldn't help but laugh. "Hear that, Cho? They're planning to tame a Comet 260 with first-year wrist strength? That broom's got a worse temper than Peeves."

Cho Chang picked up a cup of hot cocoa, a gentle smile in her eyes. "Don't make fun of them, Roger. Weren't we the same back then? I still remember my first Flying Lesson. I was so nervous I said 'Down!' instead of 'Up!', and the broom flung me straight into Professor Sprout's Mandrake pile."

"Haha, at least you didn't get waltzed around by your broom like Michael did." Roger shrugged, his tone teasing but not malicious. "But speaking of which, this year's Ravenclaw has a secret weapon like you. Time to give the other houses a nice 'surprise.'"

"I'll practice hard, but Ravenclaw still doesn't have many good Quidditch prospects. I wonder if any of the first-years have potential. That Yulian seems to have decent physical fitness."

"Yulian?" Roger frowned. "From the way he walks, he looks like he's pondering the mysteries of the universe. He might not even dare to touch a broom."

"We'll find out this afternoon."