Early the next morning, Harry rose with the sun as usual, washed up casually, then donned light clothes, preparing to embark on his morning routine of homework.
Click——
Outside his door stretched Slytherin's dormitory corridor, dark as ever, adorned with several floating candlesticks drifting toward him.
"Is that the reason?"
Suddenly, a voice pierced the air from behind Harry.
Startled, Harry turned, finding Draco already seated on his bed, staring directly at him.
"What's the reason?" Harry pondered aloud, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.
"The reason why you seem so... capable of defeating them."
Draco hesitated to admit Harry's strength, choosing instead to phrase it differently.
"Is waking up early truly beneficial?" Draco's eyes brimmed with curiosity.
To his dismay, Harry shook his head, refuting, "No."
Meeting Draco's gaze, Harry explained slowly, "Whether it's rising early or engaging in morning exercises, it's merely a goal I've set for myself. Each morning I achieve this goal, I remind myself, 'You've accomplished something as challenging as waking up. What else could possibly elude you today?'"
Draco mulled over Harry's words before dryly shaking his head, "I fail to comprehend."
Harry smiled, elaborating, "It's difficult to articulate. Initially, I was merely instructed by Uncle Felix to run to school daily. It wasn't until a month later that I grasped its significance. Perhaps some tasks must be undertaken before their significance becomes apparent, wouldn't you agree?"
Draco recognized the reference to Uncle Felix, Harry's preferred title, thus there was no need to conceal it in conversation with him.
With that, Harry prepared to depart.
"Wait!" Draco interjected.
Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, Harry glanced back at Draco, questioning, "Is there anything else?"
"I'll join you," Draco declared. "I retired early enough last night, and I find myself bored now."
True to his claim, Draco had indeed retired early. Ever since Harry challenged the pure-blood doctrine in front of him, Draco had struggled to formulate counterarguments. Eventually, he succumbed to weariness, falling into an early slumber.
Harry checked the time before nodding, "As you wish."
Upon hearing this, Draco hastily donned his attire and shoes, following Harry out of the common room.
As for Crabbe and Goyle... Draco sincerely wished them pleasant dreams amidst their snoring.
It wasn't until they exited the common room that Draco was struck by the eerie stillness of the pre-dawn hour. It marked his first realization of the emptiness pervading the lounge, corridors, and castle at this hour.
Here, the ordinarily inconsequential sounds of footsteps and breathing reverberated, occasionally interspersed with the ethereal passage of ghosts through the dim corridors, while flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows.
It sent shivers down one's spine.
Draco tightened his clothes, observing Harry leading the way outside. He witnessed Harry perform some basic warm-up exercises before commencing his run.
Is that all? Is that it?
Who couldn't manage that!
I'll do it too.
With resolve, Draco began to run—two laps... four laps... His face gradually flushed crimson, his chest heaving, his heart threatening to burst from his chest.
After five laps, he doubled over, clutching his knees with both hands, utterly spent.
"Considering your lack of exercise, perhaps it's time to rest," Harry's voice sounded behind him.
He circled back to Draco.
"Are you... mocking me?!" Draco gasped, growling in frustration.
Harry slowed, turning to face Draco with a long exhale, "Not at all. Uncle Felix once told me that being too weary to stand straight signifies progress, and I respect every step of that journey."
As the sun emerged on the horizon, Draco raised his gaze to behold its golden rays illuminating Harry's visage.
Though Harry's expression remained obscured, Draco sensed a sincerity in his tone—a sincerity previously unseen.
After Harry's explanation, he resumed his pace, swiftly distancing himself from Draco.
Observing Harry's departure, Draco gritted his teeth, striking his thigh firmly.
"Just you wait, Potter! I'll surpass you one day!!"
With that vow, he resumed his run.
Then... cramps.
Felix approached, surveying Draco, who lay upon the grass with a contorted expression, twitching in discomfort, curiosity piqued, "What ails him?"
"My legs have cramped up," Harry admitted sheepishly. Despite magically alleviating Draco's cramps, he remained sprawled on the ground, seemingly on the brink of demise.
"Understood." Felix shrugged, bidding Harry farewell before proceeding toward the castle.
As he stepped into the castle corridor, his attention was drawn to a figure.
"Ah, Professor Quirrell." Felix greeted.
"Pere... Mr. Peregrine, good morning," Quirrell responded clumsily.
"What captures your attention?" Felix inquired, noting Quirrell's fixed gaze upon the two boys outside.
Quirrell shook his head frantically, "Oh, nothing... just... well, does Mr. Peregrine know Harry Potter?"
"We are acquainted," Felix affirmed. "Very well, I shall head to my office. Let's converse when time permits."
"Of course, goodbye... goodbye!" Quirrell waved farewell.
Felix proceeded, a sense of unease settling within him. Abruptly, an alarm bell rang in his mind.
Whirling around, he spotted Quirrell still lingering in the corridor, his gaze fixed upon the two boys outside the castle.
Felix's form remained unchanged as he raised his hand slightly, black light coalescing on her fingertips, while black lightning crackled intermittently.
Yet, Quirrell remained unperturbed, his back turned toward him.
Felix fixated his gaze upon Quirrell's back until the warm sunlight bathed his fingertips, prompting her to dispel the condensed spell. With a turn, she departed.
By the way, what's the password for Dumbledore's office? Chocolate Frog? I'm unsure if there have been any alterations...
Long after his departure, Quirrell's previously relaxed posture abruptly faltered. His back was drenched in cold sweat, his breath labored, surpassing even Draco's.
"Imbecile!" An angry roar reverberated within his mind.
"I apologize, Master," Quirrell hastily interjected within his thoughts, fully aware of his Master's ability to perceive his innermost thoughts.
The voice in his mind seethed with anger as it declared, "That individual is undoubtedly formidable! He may well be the individual Dumbledore enlisted to safeguard the Philosopher's Stone, and he has already begun to harbor suspicions towards you." It thundered, "From this day forth, cease concerning yourself with that child; the Philosopher's Stone is of paramount importance."
"Yes... yes, Master!" Quirrell acquiesced promptly before turning to depart.
"Chocolate Frog!"
Felix proclaimed while standing before the gargoyle stone beast on the third floor. Alas, the gargoyle remained steadfast, unmoved.
It appeared Dumbledore had altered the password.
Observing the early-rising students bustling about, Felix hesitated, disinclined to resort to drastic measures.
As for teleportation, such an act would be deemed impolite.
After contemplating, he resolved to cast a disguise spell upon himself.
Upon the eighth floor of the castle sat the headmaster's office. Dumbledore was enjoying his breakfast when he suddenly heard a tap upon the window glass.
Instinctively, he raised his hand, opening the window. Typically, the visitors at this hour were owls.
Indeed, he encountered numerous owls daily—correspondence from the Wizengamot, the Order of Merlin, the Ministry of Magic, the School Board, as well as missives from graduates, newspapers, magical publications...
Occasionally, there were personal letters.
However, today bore a difference.
Less than two seconds after opening the window, Dumbledore discerned an anomaly. Presently, a feline visage revealed itself, dispelling the illusionary spell upon the window.
"I endeavored to adopt a less conspicuous appearance," Felix remarked. "After all, I opted for a courteous knock—albeit on the window!"