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HP: Fairy Tale Wizard - 127
🕑 Added 2025-10-07 17:33:49 +0000 UTCChapter 127: Andrew
After finishing the day's classes, Sterling enjoyed a hearty dinner at the professors' table.
He secretly pocketed two steaks while casting warming charms. Sharp-eyed Professor McGonagall glared at him pointedly but ultimately said nothing.
Sterling quickly left Hogwarts Castle with the concealed steaks, arriving at the Forbidden Forest's edge near the greenhouse side—this was a route circulated among professors leading safely to the forest's depths.
Yes, though "Forbidden" for students, for professors it could be viewed as a natural treasure trove.
At least Professors Snape and Sprout visited every few days. Deep inside were numerous magically protected cultivation plots where they grew rare herbs using the Forbidden Forest's unique environmental conditions.
Sterling pulled out a detailed map from his own office drawer, silently memorising the marked locations with careful attention.
If the Queen had replicated reality's Hogwarts one-to-one before modifying it according to Harry's wishes, these locations should also exist in the real world.
Sterling looked at these precious herb names—ones Snape never provided him, difficult to acquire even from Diagon Alley by owl order—showing a good student's calculating smile.
But now wasn't the time for treasure hunting. His gaze extended along the map, finally stopping on the small circle marked "Forbidden Forest Centre".
He needed to walk straight to the centre.
Harry and his parents were in the Forbidden Forest—the Queen had leaked this answer—but finding a house or some other structure in the vast forest wouldn't be easy.
Sterling originally wanted to temporarily transform the Forbidden Forest into his own controlled territory like that Halloween afternoon, making inch-by-inch searches manageable—but unfortunately, perhaps because this forest was actually "fake", the territory construction magic learnt from Vivian didn't work at all.
So he could only use the most ordinary method.
Fly up at the Forbidden Forest's very centre using Draconic Levitation Charm, then use magical vision centred there, searching outward in expanding circles from above.
Because these fake constructs had no "stories", while the real Harry possessed "story"—Sterling believed the golden threads disappearing from Harry in the present world were absorbed here somewhere. Experiments had proved his threads were "absorbed somewhere", not simply vanishing into nothing.
Looking horizontally might prove difficult for distinguishing, but switching to bird's-eye view—finding one brilliant golden bundle in a vast blank canvas—shouldn't be hard.
Sterling entered the Forbidden Forest. His somewhat slender figure quickly disappeared into pitch-black tree shadows. Sunset left only a faint red glow bleeding across the horizon. Night was approaching—then the Forbidden Forest would truly fall into its characteristic tranquillity.
But before venturing deeper, Sterling drew his wand toward his heart.
"Amato Animo Animato Animagus—"
The echo of a second heart sounded in his chest—slow but extremely loud, like resounding war drums beating in his ribcage.
With its rhythmic beating, magic power within Sterling grew increasingly abundant. He extended a finger experimentally. Overflowing magic obediently coiled around his fingertip, transformed by him into a floating lantern.
His magic power was now pink-blue in hue.
Don't misunderstand—to prevent forgetting Andrew, his Scholar Magic still operated continuously at full capacity.
Originally his magic should have been dyed sky-blue by Scholar Magic, but after his first Animagus practice session in Avalon, that second heart no longer beat constantly. Instead it emerged temporarily when he recited the spell... and pink colouration from unknown origins spread gradually over his magic power.
But currently no other effects appeared—for Scholar Magic's functioning, neither strengthening nor weakening whatsoever.
It seemed to only dye Sterling's magic power and expand his magic power reserves—then nothing more.
Compared to previous Animagus-caused dramatic changes, the difference wasn't small.
Could only say it was better than nothing.
Sterling snapped his fingers. A bright fireball appeared inside the lantern's glass chamber, floating suspended, emitting warm light and comforting waves of heat.
Following the map's marked route—the fastest route, carefully avoiding several dangerous magical creature communities—Sterling quickly approached what Snape and others considered the Forbidden Forest's centre.
Sterling's journey wasn't entirely smooth. Though Forbidden Forest magical creatures posed no terrifying lethal threat to competent wizards, they could deliver severe mental blows.
Yes, he meant Acromantulas.
Seeing Acromantulas, Sterling recalled that legendarily horrifying "Puffskein Adventures" book. Just after reading about a Puffskein being transformed into an Acromantula, turning the page revealed a face-jumping Acromantula magical photograph—eyes and spirit both suffered irreversible terror damage.
Naturally, an Acromantula leaping from shadows precisely triggered Sterling's "childhood trauma", making him reflexively cast magical flames. If not extinguished quickly, this poor Forbidden Forest would have enjoyed the same "warmth" as reality's Forbidden Forest during that incident.
That unfortunate Acromantula volunteering for magical research's remaining years had now become a small packet of bone powder in Sterling's bag compartment.
Looking ahead, another shadow descended from above with rustling movement.
Sterling immediately dodged. Sure enough—a large spider dropping from a tall, thick tree.
This time he didn't directly cremate it, enduring waves of nausea to carefully observe this XXXXX-level magical creature with analytical interest.
Honestly, Sterling felt Mr. Newt Scamander might have set too few classification levels for magical creatures—take Acromantulas: XXXXX was the highest danger level, the same as dragons, but no one genuinely thought one Acromantula could match a dragon in combat.
But calling it XXXX-level would somewhat diminish its legitimate aggression and danger.
In Sterling's opinion, it was merely the floor brick of 5X-level magical creatures—the gatekeeper level.
Sterling studied its terrifying eight scarlet eyes and filthy bristles, wondering if this ugly appearance also contributed significantly to its high rating—encountering such a nightmarish face in a dark environment at night, Ron might literally die of fright on the spot.
The Acromantula remained motionless, quietly crouching on the ground, letting Sterling observe without protest.
Not that it had suddenly shed its cruel, bloodthirsty nature—every nerve screamed for it to immediately pierce this wizard's throat with its venomous pincers.
But after approaching Sterling closely, the most primal biological desire to "survive" roared even louder, completely suppressing all brutal violent thoughts. Its limited brain retained only one simple thought.
Obey.
It obeyed this wizard-like creature, hoping desperately this apex predator would forgive its life, given its complete docility.
It didn't understand why this creature restrained its aura to such a minimal extent that from the tree it had mistaken him for a delicious, vulnerable wizard.
Sterling looked at this docile Acromantula, also feeling mildly curious about the reaction.
But curiosity aside, disgust wouldn't lessen much due to scientific interest.
Sterling let it go—or rather, didn't bother with it, proceeding toward the forest centre on his own without another glance.
He had no intention of killing this cruel Acromantula unnecessarily.
It was an animal; hunting was its nature.
Since it showed no aggressive posture toward Sterling, there was no need to kill it. It might kill other Forbidden Forest creatures? This had nothing to do with Sterling's concern.
Even if it hunted unicorns, same principle.
Though Sterling liked unicorns and disliked Acromantulas, hunting was part of natural cycles. An Acromantula's life and a unicorn's life were equal in his eyes. He wasn't arrogant enough to debase life quality based purely on personal preferences.
Of course, if animals harmed people, that became another matter entirely.
Animal lives equalled animal lives—not the same value as human lives.
In such matters, Sterling had no hesitation whatsoever.
Leaving the Acromantula behind, Sterling reached the Forbidden Forest's centre—an azure circular lake.
It had an artificially standard circular shape, approximately thirty feet in diameter, very small, but surrounded by a broad lawn—not a single tree.
Moonlight fell on its calm mirror-like surface, leaving a complete, perfect reflection.
Sterling slowly approached this lake, planning to start flying from its shore.
The closer to the lake, the stronger an odd feeling grew in Sterling's heart.
He couldn't describe exactly what feeling it was—he just felt his head and body seemed stuffed into a rubber tube, then forcefully inflated under pressure.
However, this oddness made him continue advancing rather than retreating.
Perhaps there is no need to fly searching anymore.
Harry Potter was the same age as him, so he could somewhat understand Harry's perspective on certain matters.
For example, if choosing a place connecting "school happiness" and "home happiness"—
What place could be more attractive than this beautiful, mysteriously special lake?
When Sterling reached the shore carrying his lantern, he smiled knowingly.
His lantern clearly emitted bright light, yet the calm lake surface still only reflected a crescent moon.
He crouched down experimentally—his face also didn't reflect in the lake's surface.
Following inner intuition, he gently stepped onto the water surface—ripples spread outward from his feet, but he didn't sink, walking as if on flat solid ground.
Step by step approaching the lake's centre, ripples shattered the moon's reflection into scattered light fragments.
Finally, at the lake's exact heart, Sterling closed his eyes.
And began falling.
Initially, immense crushing loneliness assaulted—like being imprisoned in a tiny cupboard, like being bound in a fragile eggshell.
Opening his eyes, Sterling saw emerald green mixed with peacock blue fragments, crimson purple and sulphur yellow torn into spirals, and a patch of rouge red mist suddenly exploding like the sunset before entering the Forbidden Forest. Countless colours leaped vibrantly, holding hands and dancing together in chaos.
Sterling opened his mouth. Silver-white bubbles escaped from his throat. He heard a familiar voice saying, "Aunt, Dudley took my textbook," then sharp pain lanced through his hand.
Sterling suddenly felt his eyes so unbearably sore. Through hazy vision, he saw all colours begin reversing—converging into a brilliant tunnel sliding toward a warm embrace...
Sterling felt himself about to dissolve completely in this chromatic primordial soup—until a milky white light gently descended from the water surface like a weak arm, fishing him from dark, cold loneliness.
"Ha... this is—"
Sterling lay sprawled on the shore, soaking wet hair and clothes heavily pulling his body down. He opened his mouth, spitting out a large pool of water.
He covered his chest. That heavy loneliness rolled once more across his heart. His second heart also appeared inopportunely, beating violently—he could almost hear his own heartbeat echoing.
"Cough cough cough... is this where Harry and his family live?"
Sterling coughed out the last water from his throat, casting Scouring Charm on himself, regaining that unperturbed composed appearance—during which, he made another discovery.
He'd become smaller—or rather, finally returned to his original form.
First-year young wizard Sterling Page.
He looked back at the lake he'd just climbed from—a very ordinary small lake, without that standard unnatural shape or anything particularly special.
Before him stretched a very typical British classical town.
Under dim amber lights were stone-paved roads. Medium-sized houses stood on both sides, each separated by comfortable distance. In their own gardens were daily life tools, or erected swings for children.
Sterling stood up slowly. He was separated from the nearest stone path by only a bush—from this angle, he'd probably emerged from a roadside ornamental lake. Hopefully no one nearby heard the earlier water splashing sounds—hard to explain otherwise.
He hadn't learnt Obliviate yet.
Sterling had just crossed half his body over the bush when he felt a pair of warm hands take his hand gently.
Those hands weren't too large, with very thick calluses on the index finger. The area between thumb and forefinger still had several unfaded scars.
"Sterling, why did you run behind the bush to play? What did I tell you? This town's lakesides have no guardrails—if you accidentally fall in, this old body can't fish you out."
Familiar voice—not memory's familiarity, but body, ears, tear-welling eyes and involuntarily opening-closing lips recognising it.
"Andrew?"
Sterling heard his vocal cords vibrate, producing this familiar yet strange name.
