HP: Fairy Tale Wizard - 174

Chapter 174: Prophet Power!

“Knock, knock, knock.”

Sterling was woken by the knocking, his muddled head drifting up to the surface as he confirmed he had not ordered any room service.

Wait. Why was Robin not screeching this morning?

He looked toward Robin’s makeshift nest. The robin was sleeping as peacefully as a pig. Merlin knew what Nicolas had installed in it, but the little beak was actually drooling.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

The knocking did not let up. Whoever it was kept at it, steady and persistent. The rhythm felt strangely familiar.

Sterling rapped his own forehead. He had gone to bed far too late. His brain was barely serviceable, and both his memory and logic were a mess.

A phantom peeled away from his body. He had long since stopped fussing over which target to aim illusions at to get the effect he wanted. Decide to do it, and let the magic handle the rest.

Incubus power.

“Sterling” walked slowly to the door and mimed turning the handle, while the real Sterling cast Alohomora from the bed.

For Sterling, crafting fantasies that interfered with reality was still a bit difficult.

The old door made an awful creak, which ended quickly when a foot kicked it open and slammed it into the wall with a painful bang.

Sterling’s expression tightened. The Ministry? Already?

No. Even if they had the efficiency, after last night, they would not have the nerve to come. They had no way of knowing that power had not been his.

His hand closed on the wand by his pillow, then loosened.

The owner of the foot spoke.

“Long time no see. Not that long, really, but it feels like I have missed a great deal of excellent drama, so ‘long time’ is not wrong from an experience point of view.”

“Terry, why do you sound exactly like Hermione now?”

“Do I?” Terry, who had just poked his head in, thought a moment and shook it.

“Maybe because we have been talking Transfiguration homework too much. Honestly, the deeper I go into Transfiguration, the more ridiculous you look. The two of us have gone all out, and we are only about to finish second-year content early.”

Terry shut the door carelessly, sat on the edge of the bed, and with evil amusement tapped the bit of bird butt peeking out from beneath a handkerchief.

“Chirp!”

Robin launched skyward at once, circled the room, then landed on Sterling’s shoulder and started screeching without pause.

“Sterling, Sterling, I had a nightmare, a devil poked my bottom with a red-hot trident, chirp. Heinous, chirp.”

“Do not pile on the adjectives. It was my finger. Not hot and not sharp. And I am not a devil.”

Terry protested blithely, not noticing Robin’s eyes growing sharper and sharper until from those tiny eyes flared a will even Sterling respected. Its belly opened silently, and a small drill extended, turning slowly.

Oh. A drill.

Wait, a drill?

Mr Nicolas, what did you put in Robin? And if it tries like-for-like revenge with a drill, Terry will die. There is no surviving that.

Terry still had no idea of the danger. He had adopted the air of a host and was skewering Sterling’s cheap crash pad with cutting remarks.

“The bed planks are terrible. I would not be surprised if they have already started to rot. The curtains, look, that corner, that is oil, yes, and—wait, why are you extruding something from your belly, Robin? What is that?”

Robin blinked impishly.

“A handy little gadget I will need in a minute, chirp.”

“Oh no, why are you looking at my bottom? Wait, wait. I saw the future. Do not walk toward that future.”

Terry shut his eyes for a heartbeat, then blanched, plastering his back to the wall and refusing to leave the slightest gap.

“Terry, chirp. The future is fixed. It cannot be changed, chirp.”

“Fight that future. Do not yield to fate.”

Sterling rubbed his temples. The boy and the bird were a perfect duo for the Welcoming Feast. They were exactly what he needed.

“Obediently submit to destiny, chirp.”

“I refuse. I reject a tragic future. I will carve a brighter one with my own hands.”

“Do not use ‘save the world’ lines to prove you will not get soloed by a robin.”

Sterling could not help interjecting, but the pair were already too deep in character to remember heaven and earth. They ignored him completely, one running and one chasing, out the door and tearing down the corridor.

Watching their backs, Sterling sighed, but a faint smile touched his lips.

Behind feather-hid glass, Robin caught the smile in the rear-view mirror and exhaled. It turned a corner and nodded at Terry.

“How long shall we stall, chirp?”

“Ten minutes. Sterling washes slowly when he is low. Perfect window for you to tell me what has been happening.”

Terry rubbed his hair.

“Honestly, I do not get it. Before coming to central London, he seemed fine in our letters. How did a few days here sour him this much?”

“Many, many things, chirp. By the way, chirp, how did you know I was trying to cheer Sterling up on purpose, chirp?”

“Obvious.” Terry cupped the robin in his palm and smoothed its bed‑ruffled feathers.

“You are Sterling’s pet and partner. I am Sterling’s best friend. If Sterling is unhappy, our aim is the same.”

“So it is, chirp.”

They crouched in the corner and exchanged intelligence, which mostly meant Robin chattered nonstop.

Terry became a nodding machine with no discernible feelings.

“Oh, that explains it.”

“Hmm, that really happened?”

“Aha. I knew the Thames mess was you two.”

When Robin finished, Terry stroked his chin, narrowed his eyes like a sage, and swayed his head left and right.

“It is a hard situation. Against that, a little robin truly cannot do much.”

“Do you really want to be drilled, chirp?”

“We cannot ignore objective fact. I am Sterling’s number one best friend, and I am a human wizard who can use Prophet Magic. That makes me more useful than an alchemical familiar.”

“Friend, friend. Truly drilling you, chirp.”

“Do not interrupt. Let me think. The core problem is no leads. That is not a problem for me. Wait, how long has it been? If we stay out too long, it will look fake.”

“True. Leave marks too, or getting along too well will not look real.”

“Good point, Robin. Time to test my Transfiguration. By the way, when did you stop tagging ‘chirp’ on the end of every sentence? I thought Mr Nicolas Flamel etched that in your base logic.”

Terry smiled, opened his eyes fully, and met a pair of blue ones.

“That stuff fools Gryffindors. I am a Ravenclaw. The best Ravenclaw.”

“But, I am still very glad. Thank you.”

Sterling clapped Terry’s shoulder and pushed Robin’s head back down into his shirt pocket.

“Come back in. And the two of you should know better than to talk magic in a corridor without a Muggle-Repelling Charm. If a Muggle overhears, the Ministry will knock on your door.”

“My dad is a senior Unspeakable. This sort of thing is fine. Wait, the last person who gets to bring up the Statute of Secrecy is you. The pig-bird may have been asleep, but the dragon last night was definitely you.”

“It was not my intent to break the Statute.”

Sterling shut the door, layered on a Muggle-Repelling Charm, then Transfigured the bed into a table and two chairs. He and Terry sat.

Robin produced a huge packet of fish and chips from who knew where.

“That is a takeaway from last night’s dinner, yes? It's a bit heavy for breakfast.”

Terry did not care and dug in. Seeing that, Sterling warmed it with a flick and ate a few bites.

“First, how did you find me? I remember you cannot see futures that have no concrete connection to you.”

“That used to be true. Two days ago, my dad took me into the Department of Mysteries.”

“The Department of Mysteries?”

If there was one Ministry branch Sterling was most curious about, it was that one. It had always felt… above the fray. Its head would never become Minister, and the Minister did not restrain them much.

They were said to be pure scholars and researchers who did not care for power or wealth, but only cared about miracles that current magical theory could not explain, hoping to gain something from them. Their spirit fit Ravenclaw perfectly, but it was not a popular path in Ravenclaw. Unspeakables were very busy.

Terry’s father was a case in point. At the slightest progress, no matter how small, spending ten days or a fortnight shut in the Department was common.

It was the Ministry’s most secret place. Only Unspeakables, the Minister, and those invited by the Department head could enter. To most, it was a mystery wrapped in fog.

“What did you encounter there?”

Terry nodded.

“My father leads a research group in the Planet Room. He took me there and had me stay for a night. After that, my magic grew.”

He shut his eyes, then pointed south.

“There.”

Seeing Sterling’s confusion, Terry added:

“Andrew is there. At least, that is what Prophet Magic tells me.”

“Hmm?” Even Sterling felt that was a bit much.

“You can know anything you want now?”

“No.” Terry shook his head.

“It depends on, call it my intersection with the target. Fate, if you like. Those close to me, I can see more. Those I hardly know, like Andrew, only a hazy direction.”

Sterling nodded, then a new worry rose up.

Last night, Maleficent had said the world would strain to stop him from finding Andrew. Yet Terry had walked in and handed him a crucial lead. Was that reasonable?

“If you divine about me, how detailed can you get?”

“Me showing up here is the explanation.”

Terry patted the door.

“I can see what you are doing right now, and I can use other forms of divination to gather more. This ancient inn, for example. I used dowsing to fix the direction, then found it.”

“The cost? Surely not just magic drain.”

At that, Terry’s face took on a puzzled look.

“I have not figured it out. Honestly, I barely spend any magic. When I trigger Prophet Magic, I feel like I only give it a starting point. The rest, I can faintly sense something coming from somewhere else, taking my place and powering the spell.”

“I see. Divining for yourself is one thing. This ‘for others’ ability, Terry, use it sparingly.”

Sterling passed on what Professor Vitam had told him. Terry nodded gravely.

“But do not put me off now. I am the only one who can do this, yes? Let me help you find your uncle.”

Sterling nodded. Terry was, for now, his only straw to clutch.

Perhaps The Author’s Witness could shoulder the cost for him.

Terry kept his eyes shut for a long time. At last, he opened them, pale and sweating. He ignored the sweat, Transfigured paper and quill, and wrote a string of words. A street.

“28 Spinner’s End.”

He Scourgified himself with a flourish, then flopped backward and nearly knocked over the chair.

“Spent. Turns out forcing a sight I should not take costs physical strength.”

“In any case, that is the place. Your Uncle Andrew’s location. I looked ahead a bit. He will not leave all day. Go find him, Sterling. You will find him.”

“As for me,” Terry waved his wand and turned the table and chairs back into a bed, “I do not have the energy to go adventuring with you. Today, let Robin keep his spot as adventure partner for one more day.”

“Heh. Prophet power. Impressed?”