Sorcerer in the world of magic

The days stretched on, bringing changes noticeable only to the observant. For most Hogwarts students, life went on as usual: classes, homework, friendly gatherings in the common rooms. But Stephen Strange lived at a different pace. His academic success was incredible: he easily outshone his classmates, a fact Professor Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw, was undoubtedly proud of. Thanks to his brilliant answers in class and impeccably completed assignments, Ravenclaw steadily climbed the house points table, taking the lead.

At night, when the castle fell silent and even ghosts preferred to stay in their usual haunts, Stephen didn't sleep. He would go outside, away from prying eyes and curious ears, and hone his magic. He practiced new spells, those he found in the Restricted Section, and perfected the ones he already knew. Every wand movement was precise, every mental image – clear. He felt his magical power growing, becoming more pliable, almost a part of him. This wasn't just learning; it was preparation for something much bigger, for a coming battle whose shadow was already beginning to loom over the world.

Meanwhile, the trio – Harry, Ron, and Hermione – were living their own storyline, engrossed in finding out what mysterious things were happening. They were convinced that Snape was behind it all. Hermione, the most sensible and vigilant of the three, even approached Stephen during a break once, when he was engrossed in another book on ancient runes.

"Stephen," Hermione began, her brows furrowed and eyes full of seriousness. "Harry, Ron, and I think... Snape is up to something. He's behaving very suspiciously. We're sure he's trying to get to something very important."

Stephen looked up from his book, his gaze calm, almost indifferent. He knew the truth but couldn't reveal it to young Hermione. "Hermione," he replied softly, closing the book. "Professor Snape is the Head of Slytherin. He has many reasons to act... secretive. It's his style. I don't think he's 'up to something.' Rather, he's protecting something."

Hermione pouted. She clearly hadn't expected such an answer, especially from Stephen, who seemed to her just as smart and sensible. "You just don't want to believe it! But the guys and I will find everything out! And I'll prove to you that he's a villain, Stephen Strange!" She turned and walked away, her shoulders slumped in offense. Stephen merely smiled slightly after her. Let them believe what the plot suggested. It even played into his hands.

One beautiful, truly sunny day, when all of Hogwarts seemed bathed in golden rays, Stephen's peace was once again disturbed, but this time much more pleasantly. The door to his room burst open, and Cho Chang practically stormed in, radiant as the sun itself. Her long black hair swirled behind her, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Stephen!" she exclaimed, rushing to his desk. He was just finishing a complex alchemical experiment, pouring shimmering liquid from one flask to another. The air around him was thick with faint vapors, and meticulously precise recipes lay on the table.

"Cho," Stephen said calmly, without looking up from his work. "Don't you know knocking is a good habit? And I'm busy right now. Please, keep it down."

"Down? Down?!" Cho exclaimed, as if he had suggested the most unthinkable thing. "Stephen, did you completely forget what day it is?! It's the first Quidditch match of the tournament today! Gryffindor versus Slytherin! You simply have to go! It's going to be legendary!" She grabbed his arm, trying to distract him from the flasks.

"What's alchemy now!" she continued, not letting him get a word in. "This isn't just a game; it's a Great Event! Today, the two most principled rivals will clash! You can't miss this! The atmosphere, the emotions, the magic in the air – it's nothing like your... flasks." She made a face, showing her dislike for his pursuits.

Stephen sighed. He really was busy, and noisy sports events had never particularly appealed to him. Crowds and shouting tired him. "Cho, I appreciate your enthusiasm," he said, trying to gently free his arm. "But I don't really like these games. Or crowds of people. I'm fine here. And, honestly, I'm almost done with this stage of the experiment; it would be a shame to interrupt it."

Cho pouted. Her usually radiant face slightly clouded, and she crossed her arms over her chest, like an offended child. As a true Quidditch fan, she couldn't understand how one could be indifferent to such a spectacle. "Stephen, you just don't understand! It's Quidditch! It's not just balls and brooms! It's speed! It's agility! It's strategy! You have to see Gryffindor's Chasers, with their lightning-fast throws, battling against Slytherin's cunning tactics! How the Keepers block the Quaffle, like a living shield! And catching the Snitch? That's pure art! A second – and you're either a hero or a loser! It's a real flight, Stephen! The feeling of freedom when the wind whistles in your ears, and you fly higher than everyone else! It's the most exciting spectacle in the magical world! No alchemy of yours can compare to this!" She gesticulated with her hands, trying to convey the full power of her emotions.

Stephen watched her. Her passion was contagious, though exhausting. He realized Cho wouldn't give up. His peace was at risk. She wouldn't let him work in peace. He surrendered. After all, it would at least be a new experience. "Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll go. Just not for long. And you promise we won't stand in the thick of the crowd."

Cho instantly transformed. Her face lit up with a wide smile. She joyfully jumped up and, completely unexpectedly for Stephen, hugged him tightly. "Hooray! You're the best, Stephen!" Her embrace was firm, and he felt a slight blush on his cheeks, which was quite unusual for him. He cleared his throat slightly, trying to regain his composure.

"Now hurry! We're late!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room.

The entire walk to the stadium was an ordeal for Stephen. He childishly complained and was stifled by the crowd crush that streamed towards the Quidditch pitch from all directions. People pushed, shouted, waved their house scarves. Stephen frowned, his face expressing extreme displeasure. He felt like a fish out of water. "Cho, this is unbearable," he grumbled, when his elbow was bumped again. "Why are there so many of them? And why are they shouting so much?"

"It's a celebration, Stephen!" Cho cheerfully replied, easily navigating through the human sea. "You're just not used to it. You'll like it soon!" He doubted it.

Finally, they took their seats in the Ravenclaw stands, which offered an excellent view of the entire pitch. The crowd around them was still noisy, but now it was more of a background hum than a direct physical impact. Stephen relaxed a little. Next to them sat a Ravenclaw boy Stephen hadn't noticed before. Seeing Stephen and Cho together, he smirked mockingly and began to tease them.

"Ooh-ooh-ooh," the boy drawled, winking. "Look at that! Stephen Strange and Cho Chang! Just like a real couple! Where are you two lovebirds rushing off to?"

Cho, hearing this, blushed deeply. Her cheeks turned the same color as a Gryffindor scarf. She shyly lowered her eyes and tried to hide her face in her hands. Stephen, on the other hand, remained composed. He smiled coldly, his eyes narrowed slightly, and he slowly turned to the boy, drew a finger across his throat, still maintaining that creepy smile on his face. The boy's smile lingered on his face for only a moment, then slowly faded. He paled and immediately turned away, pretending he hadn't seen or said anything, staring at the pitch as if something incredibly important was happening there. Although he was a second-year and a year older than Stephen, he was still afraid of him, because during that time Strange had become an authority in the school; after all, killing a mountain troll in his first year was something incredible.

And then the match began.

The entire crowd in the stands erupted in a deafening roar. The long-haired Gryffindor commentator, Lee Jordan, grabbed the magical megaphone. His voice, amplified by a spell, boomed across the stadium, making the air vibrate.

"Welcome, all Quidditch fans! Today, on the great Hogwarts pitch, the first, most anticipated match of the season will take place! Two irreconcilable teams will battle for victory until the last snitch! It's... Gryffindor!"

The stands, colored in scarlet and gold, exploded in jubilation. Through the noise, Stephen heard hundreds of voices chanting: "Gryff-in-dor! Gryff-in-dor!" From the changing room, like red comets, the Gryffindor players flew out. Harry Potter and Angelina Johnson led on their advanced brooms, followed by Fred and George Weasley, their faces full of determination despite yesterday's adventures. They took their positions in the air.

"And opposing them are our fiercest, yet incredibly determined rivals!" Lee Jordan's voice became slightly more sarcastic, but still full of energy. "It's... Slytherin!"

The green and silver stands responded with a lower, but no less powerful roar. The Slytherin players, clad in dark green robes, flew out of their changing room. Marcus Flint, with his massive figure and cunning squint, led the way, along with other Slytherins. They took their positions, looking at their opponents with defiance.

"The match referee, Madam Hooch, is already on the pitch!" Lee Jordan announced. "The rules are simple, my friends! Chasers throw the quaffle through the opponent's hoops, earning ten points for each score! Keepers defend the hoops! Beaters chase the bludgers to keep them from knocking our players off their brooms! And, of course, the most important player is the Seeker! His task is to catch the Golden Snitch! Catching the snitch brings one hundred and fifty points and automatically ends the match! No illegal moves, no spells against opponents, only fair play and pure magic! And now..."

Madam Hooch, standing on the central line of the pitch, tossed three balls into the air. The red quaffle, two black bludgers, which immediately flew off with a whirring sound, and the tiny, almost invisible, golden snitch.

Lee Jordan took a deep breath, and his voice thundered over the stadium, filling it with energy and anticipation:

"And now... THE GAME HAS BEGUN!"