In a guest room at the Duelling Bar, Peverell sat at a table.
Outside the bar, jubilant cheers filled the air, forming a sea of celebration.
Countless fans were celebrating the birth of the youngest duelling champion in history, while hordes of brand-new "ten-year fans" showed up uninvited.
But none of it had anything to do with Peverell.
Before the match, many people had learned where he, one of the finalists, was staying and had offered him their support.
Unfortunately, no one cared about him now.
And if Peverell had not displayed such formidable strength in the arena, some gambling addicts who had lost and needed to go looking for hundred-metre-tall buildings in the Muggle world would probably have already come knocking.
After all, although Peverell had won second place, duelling competitions had never valued runners-up.
Only the champion received everyone's attention and all their praise.
Who remembered losers? Losers were swiftly forgotten. (Except Yue Lun.)
Yet Peverell did not seem to care. In fact, he appeared to be in unprecedentedly high spirits.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the guest room door.
"Come in," Peverell said gently.
With a creak, the door swung open outward, but there was no one outside.
A gust of wind swept through the sealed corridor. The door suddenly shut, and someone was standing behind it before anyone knew when they had arrived.
Harley sized up her opponent from the duelling arena.
He had changed into a brand-new white shirt and black trousers, with a fresh Wizard robe over them. There was not a single crease in his clothes.
Peverell's room was also exceptionally clean. Even the damaged or dirty clothes had been folded neatly, and every item was arranged in perfect order.
Overall, unlike the utter chaos of many single Wizards' rooms, this room gave its