The stadium was silent except for the sound of the wind and Terence's groans.
The other players stood still, while Marcus stood a few meters away, his expression frozen. The other players looked at each other, but no one spoke.
Harry put away her wand, turned and took a few steps toward Draco and Herman, picked up the Nimbus 2000 that had fallen to the ground, mounted her broom, and slowly descended from the sky above the stadium to the front of the stands.
As she landed, the airflow from the broom's tail kicked up a cloud of dust. Once the broom had come to a stop, she jumped down and stood in front of Draco and Herman, her tone as calm as if nothing had happened. "I'm gone."
Draco opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end she just nodded vigorously and followed.
Herman walked beside Harry, and as he passed the row of players still standing there in a daze, his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Marcus's profile, a face full of an expression as if something was blocking his throat.
The Prefect on the sidelines was still standing there, his gaze fixed on Harry's retreating figure. His lips were pressed tightly together, as if he were making a difficult decision, but in the end, he said nothing.
The three walked along the path at the edge of the stadium toward the castle, with Draco leading the way, her pace much faster than usual, as if she wanted to leave the aftershocks of what had just happened behind her.
Herman lagged behind, glancing back at the direction of the stadium. Terence was still sitting on the ground, surrounded by several people. The bite marks from the two black dogs would probably remain on his arms and thighs for a long time.
Harry walked in the middle, broom slung over her shoulder, her red hair gleaming softly in the afternoon light. Her steps were unhurried, as if she hadn't been the one who had just injured someone.
After walking a few steps, Harry seemed to remember something, turned around and looked at everyone in the training field. Her tone remained calm, as if she were talking about tomorrow's weather. "Remember to call me in advance next time you train. I definitely won't be absent."
She paused for a moment, then added, "I just don't know this person's name. I'm sorry, I really don't know your name, so let's just call you 'unknown classmate.' I don't know if you can still come."
Wednesday arrived before we knew it.
After the morning classes ended, Herman did not go to the Great Hall for lunch as usual, but went back to his dormitory first.
He pulled out the worn-out notebook from his desk drawer. It was filled with questions he had accumulated while self-studying Alchemy. Some were about the properties of materials, some about the details of spells, and a few were just random ideas that popped into his head during practice.
He flipped through the notebook from beginning to end, making sure he hadn't missed anything he wanted to ask, before closing the notebook, putting it in his bag, and walking towards the Great Hall.
Lunch was eaten quickly. Draco and Harry weren't there. Lately, the two of them have become very close, like best friends, and they often don't include me in their plans.
However, Herman also enjoyed this rare moment of peace and quiet. He sat alone at the long table and finished the sandwich and half a glass of Pumpkin Juice, his mind still on the questions he was going to ask in the afternoon.
There were no classes in the afternoon. As he walked out of the Great Hall, the sunlight slanted in through the high window panes, bathing the stone floor of the corridor in a warm golden light.
Herman walked up the stairs, through several tapestry-lined corridors, and turned into the narrow passageway leading to the east tower.
He walked to the bronze door, stopped, knocked twice, and then waited.
The last time I came, the voices inside were as cold as ice crystals, and every word carried a sense of oppression, as if they wanted me to finish speaking and leave.
But this time is different.
"Come in, the door's unlocked."
The voice came from behind the door, its tone calm and rhythmic, carrying a gentle quality close to everyday speech.
While not quite as bright and cheerful as a vibrant female college student, it was at least the voice of a normal person speaking in a normal state, not making one think that a middle-aged woman on her period was sitting inside the door.
Herman silently sighed to himself, "Looks like my period is really over."
He pushed open the door and went inside. The lighting in the room was about the same as last time. The densely packed spines of the books on the bookshelves shimmered with different colors in the afternoon light. The parts and instruments on the control panel were neatly arranged, and the parts that were suspended in mid-air in the corner were still slowly rotating.
But Herman's attention was quickly drawn to the object in the center of the room.
The scene inside was nothing like the image of an Master waving a wand, directing the crucible to spin and concoct mysterious potions, with various materials flying through the air and then fusing together to create magical things. It was more like a scene from a science fiction movie, leaving Herman momentarily disoriented.
Professor Malin stood in front of a humanoid object whose chest cavity was open, revealing a dense network of wires and structures, resembling the interior of some kind of precision machinery.
The lines were not tangled metal wires, nor were they arranged electronic components. Instead, they were something between solidity and light, with a faint silver-blue glow flowing through the translucent threads. Each thread extended along a fixed path, converging at a core the size of a fist in the very center of the golem's chest.
Herman could sense what was flowing through those lines: magic.
Moreover, it was magic that was far more powerful and purer than his own.
The magical aura slowly permeated the room, like a quiet yet powerfully present background sound.
Professor Malin was standing in front of the humanoid figure, one hand reaching into the chest cavity, her fingertips pinching one of the threads, while her other hand held a small metal tool, making extremely precise adjustments to that thread.
Her movements were slow, each step executed with surgical precision, her eyes fixed on the tools in her hands, never glancing towards the door.
"Please have a seat for a moment, I'll be done in a minute." She spoke without looking up, her tone as casual as if greeting a familiar face she had seen many times before. "There are books on the bookshelf. You should be able to understand some of the ones on the bottom shelf. You can put the top shelves aside for now. You can't recreate those alchemical works with your current skill level, but it's good to browse through them to broaden your horizons and expand your knowledge."
"Yes, Professor." Herman replied obediently, put his bag on the chair by the door, and walked towards the bookshelf.
He walked very quietly, but his gaze kept drifting towards Professor Malin.
That robot—no, in the magical world it should be called a humanoid puppet—was far more realistic than he had imagined.