Noctis, the Raven, turned its small head, its emotionless eyes sweeping slowly over the students who had been the loudest in their jeering.
Wherever its gaze passed, it felt like an invisible whip striking down.
Those students imdiately flinched. No longer daring to delay, they scrambled in every direction, rushing to the various hiding spots where they'd stashed the items.
In a frantic ss, they retrieved the hidden shoes and magazines all at once.
Through it all, Noctis stood unmoving on Mason Larry's shoulder, like a heavy obsidian statue pressing down on him until he could barely breathe.
At last, when Mason Larry, hands trembling and nearly stuttering, returned Luna's belongings to the "Loony," a relieved smile finally appeared on Astoria's tense face.
"Thank you, Mr. Noctis."
Luna's dreamy voice chid as she hugged her recovered items, genuinely grateful to the regal Raven perched on Mason's shoulder.
The Raven gave her no response.
Instead, it leapt skyward again, gliding over to the bulletin board. With a swift, precise jab of its beak, it plucked the crooked parchnt cleanly off.
A pale fla hissed to life along the parchnt's edge.
The fla danced lightly, not burning the paper completely—only leaving a scorched, blackened border.
Then Noctis released its claws, and the burning parchnt spun gracefully through the air, drifting as if guided by invisible strings—Swoosh!~
—until it landed with perfect, icy precision in Mason Larry's rigid hand.
Mason trembled, his barely controlled fingers struggling to unfold the parchnt with its charred, blackened edges.
The lost-and-found notice was gone.
In its place was a line of razor-sharp script, every stroke like a blade:
Mason Larry,
Apologize imdiately for your and your accomplices' foolish behavior.
At the sa ti, submit a detailed written report of this incident to Professor Flitwick.
Note: This must be completed before the Hogwarts Express departs.
Failure to comply will result in consequences.
The mont Mason and his companions recognized the handwriting, the eerie pale fla flared up again along the parchnt's edge.
There was no heat at all.. but the sight alone was terrifying enough to make their blood run cold.
Mason's face went white. His hands shook violently, and the parchnt slipped through his fingers, fluttering toward the floor.
"CAW—!"
Noctis's harsh cry split the air like a blade.
Mason nearly tripped over his own feet in fright, scrambling—almost crawling—to snatch up the burning parchnt again.
The writing on the parchnt shifted again:
Repent for your rudeness and despicable behavior.
During the sumr holiday, copy the Muggle book How to Win Friends and Influence People (by Dale Carnegie) in full—five tis.
On the first day of term, deliver the copied work to the door of the Advanced Charms Theory and Practice office.
Failure to complete it, or completing it perfunctorily, will result in consequences.
Noctis's black eyes swept slowly over each terrified face, pausing deliberately on the pale, trembling figures of Mason Larry and his accomplices.
They imdiately bowed and apologized to Luna and Astoria in a panic.
Then, without sparing them a second glance, the Raven spread its wings.
A sleek, dark silhouette, it shot along the vaulted ceiling of the arched corridor and vanished from sight.
…
The Great Hall was roaring with excitent.
Young witches and wizards filled the four long tables, all waiting for Dumbledore to announce the final winner of the House Cup.
This year, the traditionally dominant Gryffindor and Slytherin had both stumbled.
Not only did they fail to claim the championship, they also "securely" occupied the bottom two spots—so close in points that their competition was just as "intense" as last year.
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, on the other hand, had been locked in a fierce tug-of-war, their hourglass gems nearly identical for a ti.
Ultimately, Hufflepuff gained a slight lead and narrowly claid the House Cup.
It had been many years since such a scene occurred.
Professor Sprout's face glowed with unrestrained delight; her usual gentle smile now shone brilliantly.
The Hufflepuff table erupted in celebration, the little Badgers cheering so loudly it seed they might lift the enchanted ceiling itself.
Cedric Diggory had been indispensable in securing this victory.
Not only had he consistently earned points for his House through outstanding academic performance, he had also reversed the tide on the Quidditch pitch, laying a firm foundation for Hufflepuff's triumph.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't hide their disappointnt.
Although Sagres had told them, "The ownership of the House Cup isn't important," truly reaching such a state of calm detachnt would clearly require more ti.
Sagres did not appear in the bustling Great Hall.
He was in his office, eyes focused, his vision following Noctis as it soared across great distances toward Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.
Cutting through the clouds, the Raven landed before an elegant arched window of Beauxbatons Castle.
Beauxbatons Academy of Magic
Potions Office
Nightingale's office was spacious and bright, with a large storage shelf lining one wall, neatly filled with exotic magical materials from all over the world. They shimred faintly under the soft magical light.
Near the window stood a wide desk piled with books, parchnt scrolls, and delicate instrunts.
At the opposite end of the room was a fully equipped alchemy station, its tallic surfaces gleaming coldly.
Through Noctis's sharp vision, Sagres clearly saw Nightingale bent over a cauldron beside the station, carefully stirring a viscous liquid that emitted an eerie blue glow.
Her expression was intensely focused.
Only when Noctis lightly tapped the windowpane with its beak did Nightingale lift her head, mildly surprised.
But when she saw the familiar black silhouette, the tautness in her brows eased slightly. She set down the stirring rod, waved her hand, and the window opened with a soft whisper.
Noctis slipped through the opening with practiced ease, landing in a safe corner of the alchemy station.
"So it's you. Did Sagres send you to check on ?"
Nightingale spoke naturally to the intelligent Raven, though she didn't expect it to actually understand or reply—her words were more a quiet confession to this distant "ssenger."
Noctis was a modified creature, its mind not completely clear. Although she had once given Sagres a potion recipe to help stabilize its condition, the results had been minimal.
Thinking of the reason it had co, Nightingale let out a soft sigh. Picking up a velvet cloth, she wiped the potion residue from her fingers.
"Progress… is very slow. Very, very slow…"
She walked toward the desk by the window, her voice carrying a trace of fatigue and a barely concealed frustration. "I've tried many different approaches, but all the results have been equally disappointing."
As she spoke, she pulled out the chair and sat down, unrolling an elegant parchnt stamped with the Beauxbatons crest. She picked up a slender black quill and began writing a letter.
Beauxbatons and Hogwarts were too far apart; Sagres could only barely make out her words through Noctis's eyes.
The distance was too vast, so the Raven could not transmit sound, nor carry anything beyond its silent presence.
Nightingale was much more talkative today than usual—likely because she was speaking into the quiet comfort of the room rather than to a person.
Noctis's dark eyes followed the movent of her quill. Through them, Sagres clearly "read" the contents of the letter:
Dear Mr. Raven,
Noctis brings your silent inquiry.
However, I regret that I cannot give you the good news we both wish for at this mont.
Regarding that troubleso curse, my research remains at a standstill. I have exhausted all thods currently within my reach, yet without exception, each attempt has failed.
The stubborn nature of the misfortune curse far exceeds my expectations. However, after repeatedly studying its activation patterns and its subtle link to the host's luck, I have ford a hypothesis—still only in the theoretical stage: Felix Felicis.
Felix Felicis may temporarily suppress or counteract the erosion caused by the curse, like creating an artificial pocket of calm within a raging current, granting the host a brief breath of relief.
Of course, I have not conducted any experintal verification, and I strongly advise against attempting it rashly without sufficient preparation and risk assessnt.
One thing I can state with certainty—it is by no ans a true antidote. At best, it can only function as a temporary "painkiller," and its effect will undoubtedly be limited.
I will continue doing everything in my power to find a real solution. As for the Felix Felicis hypothesis, I recomnd treating it only as a last-resort asure for extre circumstances.
I hope Noctis can deliver this letter to you as quickly as possible. Stay in contact.
Best regards,
Your loyal,
Nightingale
Early in the Rose Moon
~~~~~~~
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