Chapter Ten: A Leisurely Stroll Through the Castle

In the dimness, Heven awoke. The surroundings were still shrouded in darkness, with only the faint red glow of dying embers lingering in the fireplace. Looking up toward the window above the Black Lake, he could just make out the indistinct glimmer of ripples on the water.

He briefly assessed the state of his body—the soul of Heven was, at this moment, conversing with Helena under the guise of Strange, while his body lay quietly on the bed, lost in thought. His mind was divided between these two tasks, yet he felt no strain.

Just as he once had in Kamar-Taj, the strength of his soul allowed him to freely manipulate his body even in an out-of-body state, unlike other sorcerers who could only rest their bodies while their souls studied, utilizing that ancient method to enhance their learning efficiency.

Not only that, he could even sense a secondary soul, modeled after his current body, slowly growing within the empty vessel.

In theory, every body should be born with its own unique soul. But for some reason, the soul meant to inhabit Rozier's body had never manifested. Thus, the hollow vessel instinctively accepted Heven's wandering soul as it drifted through the cracks of the universe.

Now, after eleven years of nurturing by Heven's powerful soul, the body was once again capable of producing a soul. However, it was already profoundly imprinted by Heven, and any new soul could only exist as a secondary one...

"Perhaps someday I'll have a double," Heven thought with a hint of excitement.

Putting such thoughts aside, Heven decided he might as well get out of bed.

Groping beside his pillow, he found his wand and whispered, "Lumos."

The tip of the wand ignited with a faint glow, illuminating only his own bed.

He retrieved his pocket watch from beneath the pillow and saw the hour hand pointing to the Roman numeral VI.

The academic workload for the lower years at Hogwarts was, in truth, quite light. The first lesson did not begin until nine in the morning, so many young witches and wizards developed the habit of sleeping until daylight.

Heven, however, after years of being forced to rise at dawn for morning practice at Kamar-Taj, still woke naturally around six, even if he had grown somewhat more relaxed in this new world.

Glancing around, he saw his roommates were all still sound asleep. He quietly changed and left the dormitory.

The common room was empty, but the fireplace was already lit, its warm green flames dispelling the chill and dampness that came from being situated beneath the lake. In the large aquarium, a few round-headed lake dolphins occasionally stirred, sending cloudy ripples through the water and adding a touch of life to the otherwise silent space.

After a moment's thought, Heven decided to head to the lakeshore for his morning exercises.

The spiraling staircase that led to the ground was long and dark, a decidedly unpleasant journey, and his mind began to wander.

"The Slytherin common room must be the farthest from the ground. Why wasn’t I sorted into Ravenclaw? I heard their common room is in a tower, with excellent sunlight and a panoramic view of the Black Lake..."

Of course, had he known that the Ravenclaw tower's great height made the ascent just as troublesome for students, he might not have felt quite so envious.

At last, Heven finished the arduous climb and emerged onto the ground floor. In the distance, the sky was already tinged with pale light, faintly outlining the layered clouds above. The torches in the entrance courtyard still burned brightly, making the clouds seem all the dimmer by comparison.

From a window in the courtyard, he could see the long stone steps he’d ascended the previous night. Arriving at the boathouse after sunset, the darkness had made it difficult to notice the details of his surroundings.

Now, in the early morning light, looking down from the gallery windows, he could see the southeastern side of the castle standing atop a sheer cliff. Except for the narrow area near the boathouse, there was little flat lakeshore to be found near the southeastern entrance courtyard.

“So much for morning exercises by the lake,” Heven shrugged. “Maybe I’ll try my luck near the Quidditch pitch on the north side of the castle.”

As it was still early, Heven took his time, wandering up the stairs outside the Great Hall into the main tower, then through a wide corridor to the eastward turret. There, a tall stone bridge spanned the gap between the turret and the Astronomy Tower in the academic quarter.

The bridge arched over a dizzying precipice; as Heven walked across, the cool morning breeze filled his wizard’s robes, billowing them out behind him.

Bracing himself against the wind, Heven unbuttoned his robes, letting them stream behind him like a cloak. He leaned his elbows on the railing, squinting into the wind, and gazed down at the swaying pines at the cliff’s edge, still unable to shake the sense of unreality.

“I’ve been living in this world under a new identity for over ten years, and now I’m attending a school of magic?”

After all, in his previous life, he’d only lived a little over twenty years, much of which was a childhood he could scarcely recall.

These eleven vivid years sometimes left him confused; on occasion, he’d wake in the dark of night, momentarily convinced he was back on a bamboo mat in Kamar-Taj. Sometimes, he even wondered if his time in Kamar-Taj had been nothing but a long dream, and that he truly belonged to this universe...

Lost in thought, Heven didn’t notice the chill wind still buffeting him.

Just then, a slender hand holding a thick spellbook blocked his view—and shielded him from the wind. Its owner patted his shoulder with her other hand, breaking his reverie.

“Are you hoping to catch a cold on your very first day, just to avoid classes?” a melodious female voice asked.

Heven raised his head from his arms and saw a senior witch with grey hair, blue eyes, and black-rimmed glasses looking at him in surprise.

“You’re... the Ravenclaw prefect?” Heven vaguely recalled seeing her on the train.

“Miranda Goshawk,” she replied calmly, nodding. “I’m glad you remember me.”

“You don’t look glad at all,” Heven thought privately.

Today, Miranda’s grey hair was loose about her shoulders, and beneath her uniform she wore a flowing pale blue dress. She seemed far less strict and severe than she had on the train; in the crisp wind, she even had an air of freshness and purity.

Heven couldn’t help but say, “If you changed your glasses, you’d be a truly elegant witch.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “Is this how you Slytherin ‘nobles’ talk? Flirting with an upperclassman on your first day?”

Heven laughed awkwardly. “Ahem, I think you may have a slight misunderstanding about Slytherin ‘nobles’...”

Miranda replied, “I have no such misunderstanding. After four years at Hogwarts, I know exactly what Slytherin is like.”

It seemed Slytherin’s reputation was indeed less than stellar... Heven spread his hands in resignation.

“To be honest, you don’t seem very Slytherin,” Miranda said suddenly, studying him. “I’ve never seen a Slytherin up this early.”

“Really?” Heven asked, intrigued. “Do you think I could pass for a Ravenclaw? The Sorting Hat actually hesitated for quite a while, torn between putting me in Slytherin or Ravenclaw.”

Miranda couldn’t quite suppress a smile, her lips twitching. “Thank goodness you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw, or the first-years would all be led astray...”

Heven swiftly changed the subject, insisting that Miranda—who had been planning to practice spells—show him around the castle, and took the opportunity to ask where he might find a suitable place for morning exercises.

Resigned, Miranda led Heven away from the stone bridge to the Astronomy Tower. The tower belonged to the academic complex, and a square cloister connected several lofty towers.

At the center of the cloister was a broad courtyard carpeted with fresh green grass, with a fountain at its heart.

“You can exercise here,” Miranda said, gesturing with her chin toward the lawn below.

Heven considered this, then scowled, visibly reluctant. “Everyone taking morning classes passes through here, don’t they? I don’t think I’m shameless enough to be gawked at by the entire school without a care...”

Miranda laughed lightly. “If you get up early enough, there aren’t many people about.”

Heven glanced down at the scattered students already waving wands and clutching books on the lawn, dark lines crossing his face. “Those are all from your house, aren’t they?”

He pointed to the west side of the castle. “Don’t think I don’t know—the Ravenclaw tower is over there. No matter how early I get up, I can’t beat your bookworms!”

Perhaps he’d overgeneralized with that last remark.

“Watch your words!” Miranda retorted, her face darkening. Then she seemed to realize something. “You seem quite familiar with the castle. Are you really a new student?”

Heven inwardly cursed his slip. The previous night, he’d toured the castle for quite some time as a ghost, escorted by Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar. Ghosts weren’t bound by the castle’s geography, so they’d managed to explore nearly every part.

This morning, Heven had completely forgotten to conceal this familiarity around Miranda, and his lack of a newcomer’s awkwardness had aroused her suspicion.

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