Sorcerer in the world of magic

The moral and emotional exhaustion from the previous evening took its toll, and Stephen Strange fell into a deep, serene sleep. He overslept, oblivious to the castle gradually waking up and filling with the first sounds of morning.

When he finally opened his eyes, the sky outside the window was already painted in soft morning hues. Stephen felt surprisingly refreshed, but his thoughts were already returning to the tasks that lay ahead. He quickly put on his school uniform and habitually checked for his wand in his robe pocket—it was there.

Descending the spiral staircase into the Ravenclaw common room, Stephen expected to see the usual scene: a few students buried in books, or quietly chatting. But this morning was different. The common room was full of students from all years, many of whom were already prepared for classes. Some were reading, some were finishing homework, others simply socialized.

And then Stephen appeared.

In an instant, all conversations ceased. Dozens of eyes turned to him, and a whisper rippled through the room. Students exchanged glances, pointed at him, and their gazes were filled with a strange mixture of curiosity, awe, and… slight disbelief. Stephen assumed that rumors of yesterday's troll and his role in the incident had already spread throughout Hogwarts. He braced himself for questions, admiration, or even reproaches for his "excessive" efficiency.

At that moment, to Stephen's immense surprise, one of the older students from his house exclaimed with genuine astonishment: "Whoa! Strange! You're up so early!"

At that, a vein pulsed on his forehead. He surveyed everyone present, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.

"Are you seriously suggesting I'm incapable of waking up early?" he asked, a hint of his usual dry, obvious irritation in his voice that he made no attempt to hide.

The students exchanged glances again, then almost synchronously nodded, some even offering awkward smiles.

Stephen sighed heavily, and a thin, dry smile, his first in a long time, appeared on his lips. His reputation as Ravenclaw's "night owl," it seemed, was well-known and even preceded his heroic deeds. It was… disarming, but he understood the humor of the situation. He turned and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, leaving a ripple of muffled giggles in his wake.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was as lively as ever, filled with the aromas of bacon, eggs, toast, and pumpkin juice. Stephen Strange sat at the Ravenclaw table, which was already quite full, and began to eat, trying to detach himself from the surrounding noise. His thoughts once again turned to more serious matters.

"The troll," he mused, biting into his toast. "He wasn't difficult. Mountain trolls are primitive creatures, their intellect on par with an amoeba. Predictable. Crude. Their lack of cunning makes them an easy target for someone who can think strategically and use magic unconventionally."

He glanced at the Slytherin table, where Snape was grimly sipping his coffee. "But with dark wizards… and especially with Voldemort… that's a completely different story." In his memories from his past life, Lord Voldemort was not just a villain, but a genius of evil, a cunning strategist. He manipulated, coerced others to serve his goals, used psychological pressure, and stopped at nothing. "He's not just magically powerful; he's dangerous with his mind and complete lack of morals. You can't just 'pin him against a wall' like a troll."

Therefore, although yesterday's incident showed him that he was capable of acting decisively, Stephen understood: he needed more. Much more. His knowledge of historical spells and ancient rituals was vast, but he lacked practical experience in combat magic.

"I need more than just studying the history of magic," he decided. "I need to delve into combat spells. Those that require not only power but also speed, precision, unconventional thinking. And potions. Forgotten, potent potions that can change the tide of battle. The Restricted Section... that's what I need. Not just tomes of curses, but books on tactics, strategy, counter-spells, on how to counter unpredictable, deadly magic." His mind already began to form plans, constructing chains of possible actions and counter-actions.

His thoughts were interrupted when the graceful figure of Cho Chang sat beside him on the bench. She looked fresh and elegant, as always, but a slight bewilderment was etched on her face.

"Oh my, Stephen," she said, her eyes widening, then she quietly giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. "When everyone said you were already in the Hall, I thought it was some silly joke."

Stephen Strange looked up at her. He knew his reputation as Ravenclaw's "night owl" was well-deserved. He genuinely preferred to work and study at night, when silence reigned in the castle. Ironically, yesterday's events had forced his early appearance.

"Yes, Cho," he replied, his usual dry wit slipping into his voice. "Surprising, isn't it? Apparently, even I can witness the sunrise without just looking through a telescope. Or do you assume that Ravenclaws are programmed exclusively for a nocturnal existence?"

Cho laughed, her chuckle melodic. "No-no, of course not! It's just… it's so unusual. All the first-year girls are going to be very disappointed today."

Stephen frowned. "Why is that?"

Cho leaned closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a great secret, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Don't you know? They always argue over who gets to wake you up next, so you don't miss class. They even have a schedule to decide who gets the 'lucky' draw."

Stephen's eyes widened slightly. He looked at her seriously. "Are you serious?"

Cho nodded, unable to suppress a smile. "Yup. And when you came out by yourself this morning, their carefully planned schedule collapsed. Many probably didn't even get ready for their 'raid on Stephen.'"

Stephen Strange stared at his plate, trying to process this information. First-year girls… making a schedule… to wake him up? This was beyond his comprehension. His analytical mind, accustomed to complex magical formulas and philosophical treatises, was at a loss in the face of such… unfathomable human logic. He felt a slight flush creep up his cheeks, but the laughter in his eyes betrayed that he, at least, appreciated the absurdity of the situation.

At that moment, as Stephen was still trying to grasp what he had heard, Hermione entered the Great Hall. She looked a little disheveled, but her eyes gleamed with determination. Her gaze quickly scanned the tables, searching for someone. She was looking for him.

And upon seeing Stephen Strange at the Ravenclaw table, her face lit up with a happy smile. She immediately headed towards him, her steps quick and purposeful. But then she noticed something. Stephen was talking to Cho, and Cho was giggling sweetly.

Hermione stopped. Her smile slowly faded from her face. She looked at both of them, her lower lip slightly pouting. Then, letting out a short, displeased hum, she turned sharply and headed towards the Gryffindor table where Harry and Ron were sitting.

At that moment, Cho, who had witnessed the entire scene, met Hermione's eyes. A triumphant smile bloomed on Cho's face, and a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. Between them, invisible to others, a spark of rivalry ignited, almost palpable in the air.

Ron and Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor table, noticed Hermione's gaze and felt a cold aura radiating from her, like a frosty breeze. They exchanged glances. At that moment, Ron felt shivers run down his spine from her aura, and he thought with a sigh, "Good thing Hermione forgave me..."