Riddles, Rumors

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. "Good thing Peeves didn't latch onto us. If he'd really gone and fetched Filch, we'd have been in trouble."

"Peeves probably wouldn't go looking for Filch." Wade pulled him up from the floor and said, "Did you forget? The two of them hate each other. Peeves wouldn't want to do anything that made Filch happy."

"That's true." Michael nodded.

Peeves often caused trouble, either knocking over statues or spilling ink everywhere. He had invisibly added a great deal to Filch's workload as the castle's Administrator, driving Filch mad with anger.

The two of them climbed the winding stairs of Ravenclaw Tower, going round and round until their heads spun. They had to stop and rest every so often, their thighs aching as though they no longer belonged to them.

Normally, Michael would have complained nonstop at a time like this—unless there was a pretty Girl nearby. Then he would pretend not to be struggling in the least and stop to rest under the pretense of looking after the girls.

But today, Michael was unusually quiet. It was not until they were nearly back at the Common Room that he said, "We have Flying Lesson tomorrow too."

Wade said, "Mm."

"Forget the bullshit I said before!" Michael said gloomily. "I'll just take it slow and follow Madam Hooch's instructions."

Wade said helplessly, "What happened to Neville was just an accident. Not everyone is as unlucky as he is."

Michael might not have been unaware of that, but he still could not let go of the burden in his heart so quickly.

By the time they finally returned to the Tower, curfew had already passed. Yet several students were still gathered in the corridor—not every Ravenclaw was good at solving riddles. When a question involved a gap in their knowledge, even the smartest minds could do nothing. Sometimes, more than twenty students could be seen standing outside the Common Room, discussing the day's question together.

Wade stepped forward and knocked on the Bronze door knocker on the wooden door. The Eagle's beak suddenly opened, and in a soft voice that seemed almost to be singing, it said, "Hands above and hands below, sometimes crawling, sometimes walking. It walks like a man and crawls like a dog."

They had to answer the Eagle Door Knocker's question correctly before the Common Room door would open.

Michael imagined some dark, crawling creature covered in hands and said with a horrified expression, "What kind of monster is that? Is it—some demon god from mythology?"

He frantically rummaged through his bag for his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, then immediately flipped to the back.

"Don't bother. It's not in the book," said a tired Ravenclaw student. "I've gone through the whole thing."

The others nodded silently.

Wade stood to one side and thought.

The Bronze door knocker was like the legendary Sphinx. Its questions were not necessarily difficult, but sometimes they were hard to figure out—because it only ever asked questions. It never told them whether it was a brain teaser or a riddle, nor did it offer clues as to whether the answer was a plant, animal, tool, word, or something intangible, such as time or death.

At first glance, this riddle felt very Cthulhu-esque, yet also somehow familiar.

"—Monkeys?"

After a moment, Wade asked uncertainly.

"Correct answer," said the Eagle Door Knocker, opening the wooden door.

After the accident in Flying Lesson, the breakfast table was much quieter the next morning. The students no longer tirelessly boasted about riding Broomsticks over mountains and seas. Instead, another piece of news spread throughout the first-years.

"Didn't Harry Potter and Slytherin's Malfoy nearly get into a fight during Flying Lesson yesterday? But guess what happened?" At the long table, Padma Patil spoke mysteriously to those around her. "I heard that because Harry Potter displayed astonishing flying talent, not only was he not punished, but Professor McGonagall even made an exception and recommended him for the Gryffindor Team!"

Because she had a twin sister in Gryffindor, she was always well-informed about such things.

"Really? Professor McGonagall?" The students around her were all shocked. Everyone knew that Professor McGonagall was Hogwarts' fairest and strictest professor. She treated all four Houses equally and never played favorites. The fact that she had made an exception for Harry Potter was so shocking that they temporarily forgot the earlier news.

But in the end, someone remembered it.

"That's impossible." Terry said with conviction, "No first-year has joined a Quidditch team in a century! This must be a rumor!"

"Maybe he's some sort of reserve player," Anthony guessed. "After all, we all saw it. Potter really did fly well—he was fast and agile. If the Gryffindor Team turned him away, that would be unbelievable. But he's still a first-year. He's never ridden a Broomstick before, and he doesn't even know the rules of Quidditch. Joining the team outright would be too absurd—it must just be as a reserve."

Another student, Kevin, said, "Think about it. If Potter had really joined the team as an exception, the Weasley brothers would have shouted it everywhere by now. But have you heard a peep from them?"

Their analysis was logical and well-supported, and everyone nodded in agreement.

Padma curled her lip disdainfully and whispered to Michael, "Actually, Gryffindor's captain, Wood, wants to use Harry Potter as a Secret weapon, so he won't let anyone publicize it. Those stupid boys are just jealous, so they refuse to admit it."

Michael did not remind her that he was one of those boys. Instead, he smiled and said, "Maybe they just don't want to admit in front of a pretty girl that they're inferior to another boy."

Padma's face reddened slightly.

Wade glanced sideways and saw Michael raise one eyebrow at him. Despite his young age, he wore a carefree, flirtatious look, as though he had already emerged from the shadow of before. Wade could not help but breathe a sigh of relief as well.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out in the Great Hall—six long-eared owls struggled in with a long, slender package, drawing everyone's attention. The owls circled down, dropped the package in front of Harry Potter, then flapped away, leaving only a few feathers behind.

Michael sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly grabbed Wade's wrist. Lowering his voice, he said, "A Broomstick! I'd bet anything it's a Flying Broomstick!"

His eyes were red with envy as he said in a voice like he was coughing blood, "And it's from the Nimbus series—I recognize that packaging!"

"Yeah." Wade pried open his fingers and put his hand back on the table. Indifferently, he said, "If you perform well in Flying Lesson this afternoon, maybe you'll get a chance to join a team and receive a new Broomstick too!"

He had only said it casually, but Michael seemed to take it seriously. His gaze became exceptionally earnest, and he bit into his lamb chop with particular force.

Soon, it was time for Flying Lesson.