The Great Hall was a sea of noise at lunchtime, but for the students at the Gryffindor table, the usual cheerful chatter was replaced by anxious, hushed whispers. Every head seemed to turn whenever the massive oak doors swung open. Ron, Hermione, and Neville were huddled together, barely touching their food, their eyes fixed on the entrance.
"Any sign of them?" Neville asked for the tenth time, his voice trembling slightly.
"No," Ron grumbled, nervously shredding a bread roll into a pile of crumbs. "How long can it possibly take to get expelled?"
"Don't say that, Ron!" Hermione snapped, though her own face was pale with worry.
"Professor McGonagall is strict, but she's fair. They couldn't be... not for that."
Just then, the doors opened again, and this time, it was them. Adam and Harry walked in, looking subdued and tired. They scanned the hall, found their friends, and started heading towards the Gryffindor table.
Instantly, a ripple of movement went through the hall. Whispers erupted from every table. Before they had taken ten steps, Ron, Hermione, and Neville shot up from the bench and rushed to meet them, a crowd of other curious Gryffindors trailing right behind them.
"What happened?!" Ron demanded, his voice a loud, desperate whisper. "Are you expelled? Tell me you're not expelled!"
"It's all my fault," Neville said miserably, his eyes welling up with tears. "If I hadn't lost my Remembrall—"
"It's not your fault, Neville," Harry said quickly, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He looked at his anxious friends and a massive, relieved smile broke across his face. "We're not expelled."
A collective sigh of relief went through the assembled Gryffindors, followed by a ripple of excited cheers and pats on the back for both Adam and Harry. The news spread like wildfire, and from across the hall, they could see the smug expressions on the Slytherin table curdle into disappointment.
But just as the celebration was starting, Hermione pushed her way to the front, and her expression was not one of celebration. Her face was a thundercloud of relief and residual fury.
"Not expelled?" she said, her voice shaking slightly. "That's it? You perform the most reckless, dangerous stunt I have ever seen, break a dozen school rules, and you're not even—"
"We got detention," Adam supplied calmly, hoping it would placate her.
It did not.
"Detention?" she scoffed, her eyes flashing. "You deserve more than detention! Do you have any idea how worried we were? How reckless that was? You could have broken your necks! I was watching the whole time, I thought..."
She took a deep, shuddering breath, her anger finally cracking to reveal the raw fear beneath. Her voice dropped, thick with emotion.
"I thought I was to lose two of my best friends," she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And on my birthday, of all days."
The cheerful atmosphere popped like a balloon. The finality and genuine pain in her voice hit both Harry and Adam harder than any lecture from a professor could have. They stood there, shamefaced, the heroes of the hour suddenly feeling like absolute villains.
"We're sorry, Hermione," Harry mumbled, looking at his shoes.
"We really are," Adam added quietly.
She just shook her head, wiping at her eyes, and turned back towards the table. The crowd of Gryffindors parted for them, their celebration now more subdued as they all sat down to a lunch that was suddenly very quiet.
The walk to Herbology was a strange affair. Adam was taken aback by the sheer number of students—not just Gryffindors—who were whispering and pointing as they passed. He saw a group of Ravenclaws by a fountain clearly re-enacting the final moments of the chase.
The news has already spread through the entire school, Adam realized with a jolt. And that too, in a very detailed manner. This isn't just a first-year incident anymore; it's school-wide gossip.
The attention was even more intense among their housemates.
"Adam, that was insane!" said Seamus Finnigan, his eyes wide with awe. "That swerve at the end! How did you not crash?"
Seamus Finnigan, a boy always having some kind of conspiracy theory about Adam, was now talking so excitedly to him. Adam just gave a polite, slightly awkward smile. "We were just lucky," he said, trying to downplay the event.
When they reached Greenhouse Three, the warm, damp air smelled of rich earth. The Hufflepuffs were already there, their reactions a mix of impressed smiles and disapproving whispers.
"Alright, settle down, settle down!" Professor Sprout's cheerful voice cut through the chatter. She stood behind a long trestle table laden with pots and wriggling, bean-like pods. "Today, we will be re-potting Puffapods! Now, who can tell me the primary characteristic of a fully grown Puffapod?"
Hermione's hand shot into the air, as always. "When a Puffapod reaches full maturity," she said, without waiting to be called on, "it produces large, pink pods filled with shimmering beans, which, if dropped, will instantly flower."
"Excellent, Miss Granger! Five points to Gryffindor," Professor Sprout beamed. She then looked over at the group of boys. "Now, the young ones we are handling today are not so delicate. But they are feisty. Be careful not to poke them, or they will give you a nasty little punch. Gloves on, everyone!"
As they started the task, Neville was in his element. He handled his Puffapod with a gentle expertise that made it calm right down. Seeing Adam struggling with a particularly aggressive pod that kept trying to jab his fingers, Neville leaned over.
"You have to hold it firmly at the base, like this," he said quietly, demonstrating. "It makes them feel secure." He paused, then looked at them both, his expression full of heartfelt gratitude. "Really, thank you both. Properly. My Gran would have been furious if I'd lost the Remembrall."
Professor Sprout made her way down the line. When she reached Adam and Harry, her face was a bit more stern.
"I trust, Mr. Potter, Mr. Taylor," she said, her voice low, "that the skill you displayed on the grounds today will be matched by your attention to detail here. Gryffindor has had enough excitement for one day."
"Yes, Professor," they both mumbled. The message was clear: all the teachers were watching them now.
History of Magic, by contrast, was an exercise in extreme boredom. Professor Binns, a pearly-white ghost who had died sometime in the eighteenth century and simply floated up to teach the next morning, was their professor. His voice was a dry, reedy whisper that seemed to suck all the energy out of the room. He droned on and on about the Goblin Rebellions, his form occasionally drifting through the top of the blackboard without him noticing.
The afternoon sun streamed through the dusty windows, illuminating dancing motes of dust in its golden shafts. Harry, having given up on taking notes, was now shading in a rather detailed drawing of a Golden Snitch on his parchment. Beside him, Ron's fight against sleep had ended ten minutes ago in a decisive defeat; he was now using A History of Magic as a pillow, a thin line of drool connecting his chin to a chapter on eighteenth-century goblin rights. Even Hermione, the most diligent student in their year, found her focus wavering. Her usually pristine notes were becoming slightly less neat, and she had to stifle a yawn behind her hand.
Adam, however, was a picture of rapt attention. He sat upright, his quill scratching away diligently on his own parchment.
The books I read were a summary, a highlight reel, he thought, his eyes fixed on the ghostly professor. They covered the major battles, the key figures. But this... this is the raw data.
He listened past the professor's soul-crushingly monotone delivery, focusing intently on the details—the specific names of goblin leaders, the exact phrasing of a failed treaty, the casualty numbers that were always glossed over in the textbooks. Just then, Binns mentioned a goblin liaison named Gornuk the Crafty, a name Adam was certain had never appeared in any of the books he had read in his past life. He quickly jotted it down with a star next to it, a small thrill running through him. A new piece of the puzzle.
To him, this wasn't a boring lecture; it was vital intelligence gathering. In a world where he was actively changing the future, a perfect, granular understanding of the past was the most valuable weapon he could possess.
The sudden, jarring clang of the bell signaling the end of the lesson made Harry jump and Ron snort awake with a confused grunt.
Later that night, the Gryffindor dormitory was filled with the excited chatter of Ron Weasley. Adam was lying on his back, appearing to stare at the ceiling while he quickly checked his status, wondering how to get a special ability. Was it the same as experiencing new spells before being able to buy them in the shop or some other way?
Name: Adam
Status: Affected by "Name Magic" and a "Homonculous Charm" is tracking the host.
Level: 10
Wand: Unknown (Cursed)
Magic Status: Active
Special Abilities Unlocked: Empty special ability slot is available.
System Resources:
SP (Special Points): 152,167
Gold: 21,485
"I'm telling you, Harry," Ron said excitedly, pacing between the beds. "You keep flying like that, and you're a shoo-in for the team next year. They'll have to make you Seeker!"
Adam's eyes narrowed slightly at the conversation. Next year, he thought, a cynical feeling creeping in. First years aren't allowed on the house teams. Of course Ron wouldn't even consider this year as a possibility. But still... he only mentioned Harry, not him. This showed Adam, how much of a friend he was to Ron. He mentally dismissed the window as he swung his legs over the side of his bed to join the conversation properly.
"He's not wrong, Harry," Adam said with a small smile, knowing full well in his mind that he wasn't going to give up the seeker position. "You fly like you were born on a broom. You'd be a brilliant Seeker."
Harry blushed slightly. "You were just as good, Adam. Better, even. You're the one who caught it."
"Yeah!" Ron agreed. "That swerve was wicked! When they hold tryouts next year, you should both go for it!"
For another hour, they talked, until Ron and Harry eventually fell asleep. In the quiet darkness, Adam lay back down, the faint blue light of the System blooming in his vision as he opened the map. To his surprise, a new, green circle pulsed just inside the Forbidden Forest.
[Secret Space: Recommended Level: 10. Danger Level: Green]
The temptation to go now was strong, but Adam was a strategist. No. Not tonight, he decided. Potions is the first thing in the morning. I need my wits about me for Snape. Tomorrow is Friday. If I go tomorrow night, I can rest all day Saturday. Much better and smarter.
With a plan set for the next night's adventure, Adam finally let his eyes close, his mind already turning from the day's public triumph to the secret challenges that awaited him in the shadows of the Forbidden Forest tomorrow.