Sorcerer in the world of magic

After the thrilling Quidditch match, Hogwarts remained abuzz for a long time. Gryffindor's victory sent a wave of joy throughout the castle. Gryffindors walked proudly, their faces beaming with happiness, their voices ringing with shouts and songs. Their red robes flashed everywhere, like little flames. The Slytherins, on the other hand, pretended nothing had happened, trying to appear calm, though their narrowed eyes betrayed their anger and desire for revenge. They gathered in corners, exchanging sharp words and casting gloomy glances at those who were celebrating.

For Stephen Strange, all this commotion meant nothing. He returned to his usual schedule, where classes were just a minor inconvenience to his true pursuits. He attended lessons when he felt like it, or easily skipped them, fully immersed in his research. The teachers, to his surprise, didn't object. They understood that Stephen had completely mastered the first-year curriculum, and even some complex concepts from higher years came easily to him. Professor Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw, was especially proud of his brilliant student. He practically glowed with pleasure, walking through the corridors and never missing an opportunity to boast to his colleagues and even Dumbledore about Stephen's achievements. "My Stephen, you know, is already studying the theory of time and space alteration! At his age, I didn't know half of that!" Flitwick would happily say, which, of course, caused envy among the other Heads of House.

On a Saturday afternoon, when most students were relaxing or playing outside, Stephen, as usual, was on his way to Professor Snape's office. For him, it was as routine as lunch in the Great Hall was for others. He walked through the deserted corridors, whistling a cheerful tune he'd picked up somewhere.

Reaching the large wooden door of Snape's office, Stephen knocked. Without waiting for a reply, which was common since Professor Snape was often absent, either buying rare herbs or delivering potions for the hospital or the Ministry, he simply pushed the door open and walked in, still whistling.

The office, as always, was dimly lit, filled with the pungent smell of herbs, bubbling cauldrons, and something acrid that could make an unprepared person's head spin. Stephen, long accustomed to this atmosphere, confidently approached the professor's desk. On it lay a scroll with a neat list of potions Snape had instructed him to brew. Still humming, Stephen took the list and went to the shelves lined with thousands of vials, flasks, and pouches of herbs. He habitually began to gather the necessary items: dried snake skins, powdered Bicorn horns, Mandrake roots covered in soil.

Suddenly, the office door burst open with a crash, and Draco Malfoy, like a gust of cold wind, stormed in, followed by his two faithful shadows—Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy, with his arrogant face and neatly combed blond hair, clearly expected to see Snape.

"Professor Snape!" he began, but his voice cut off when he saw Stephen standing by the shelves instead of the professor. Malfoy stopped, his insolent eyes first widening in surprise, then narrowing. Crabbe and Goyle, mimicking him, also froze, their dull faces expressing bewilderment.

Stephen, without stopping his task or his whistling, slowly turned to them. His gaze was calm, almost haughty. "According to proper etiquette, Mr. Malfoy," he said in an even, slightly mocking tone, "one should knock and ask permission to enter. And, by the way, it's not very polite to stare at me like that. I know I'm handsome, but I'm still a boy. And, believe me, not to your taste."

Draco flushed. He clearly didn't expect such insolence, especially from someone his own age.

"Strange! What are you doing here?!" Malfoy hissed, barely containing his anger.

Stephen shrugged, returning to his cauldron, into which he had already begun to toss herbs. "I'm carrying out Professor Snape's assignments," he replied calmly, slowly stirring the contents of the cauldron. A light, acrid smoke rose from the liquid. "May I ask: why do you always drag these two around with you? Do they give you some kind of advantage? Or are you just afraid to walk around school alone?"

Draco puffed out his chest, his face turning even redder. Crabbe and Goyle behind him tried to look menacing, but their attempts were pathetic. "Hmph, what do you know, Strange! These are my loyal assistants! My Malfoy family is entitled to have an entourage by status!" Draco declared arrogantly.

Stephen thoughtfully tilted his head, continuing to stir the potion. A slight smirk appeared on his lips. "Assistants, you say?" he drawled. "They look more like your lovers, Draco. Always trailing behind you, so loyal, so... obedient."

Malfoy's face instantly turned crimson. He opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly, the strict, icy voice of Professor Snape, who had, unnoticed by all, entered the office, was heard.

"What's going on here?!" Snape snapped, his black, bead-like eyes fixing on the troublemakers. No one answered. Malfoy, caught off guard, stammered, only continuing to glare at Stephen with a look full of anger and envy, while Stephen calmly poured new herbs into the cauldron and slowly, with a slight smile, stirred the potion.

"Malfoy, I asked: what's going on here?!" Snape's voice grew even lower and more dangerous.

"Nothing, Professor," Draco forced out, trying to appear innocent, but his gaze still returned to Stephen, who seemed to be enjoying the whole situation.

Snape, without taking his eyes off Malfoy, said coldly, "Then I ask you to leave the office. Immediately."

Draco, head bowed, turned and quickly walked to the exit, Crabbe and Goyle, as always, awkwardly followed him. The door closed behind them with a slight creak, leaving Snape and Stephen alone.

Professor Snape turned to Stephen, but said nothing. He merely looked at him with a long, scrutinizing gaze. Then, just as silently, he went and sat at his desk, sorting through some papers.

Stephen continued to brew potions, engrossed in the process. The office became quiet, only the occasional gurgle of the cauldron and the rustle of parchment could be heard. Soon, Stephen suddenly became very bored. He couldn't sit in silence without talking, especially when such a "conversationalist" as Snape was nearby. He turned to the professor.

"Professor Snape," Stephen began, his voice completely innocent. "What if, instead of powdered Bicorn horn, we used, say, dragon scales? It's also a reptile, right? Or why do you say the potion needs to boil for exactly twenty-three minutes, not twenty-two or twenty-four? Is that some important number?"

Snape didn't answer, continuing to read his papers.

"And why," Stephen persisted, "do you always have to add ingredients in order? If you throw them all in at once, will the effect be different? And if you use old ingredients, will the potion be worse or will it explode? Why exactly is it this way? Why? And what if..."

From the stream of simple, but persistent questions from Stephen, a vein slowly but surely began to throb on Professor Snape's forehead. He stopped reading, his hands clenching the parchment. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"STRANGE! BREW IN SILENCE!" Snape roared, his voice echoing throughout the office, making the vials on the shelves gently rattle. His face was pale with irritation, his eyes flashing with lightning.

Stephen fell silent. For a few minutes, complete silence reigned in the office, broken only by the hissing of the cauldron. Snape breathed heavily, trying to calm down. But after a while, Stephen, completely unnoticed by the professor, quietly began to hum the same cheerful song he had been whistling on the way. Barely audible, but enough for Snape to catch it, which made his eye twitch.

Steven continued to hum his tune softly until he finally finished with the potions. The last cauldron hissed, and the aroma of the completed potion filled the air. He carefully poured the contents into vials, sealed them, and arranged them on a special tray. Glancing at Snape, who was still seated at his desk, immersed in his parchments, Steven quietly exited the office, trying not to disturb the professor's fragile peace.

Finally free, Steven headed to the Great Hall for dinner. The hall buzzed with conversation and laughter. Despite the match having ended several hours ago, the atmosphere of victory still lingered, especially among the Gryffindors. Steven took a plate of food and sat down at the Ravenclaw table, trying to choose a spot away from the noisiest groups.

He had barely taken a bite of his roasted potatoes when he felt someone sit beside him. It was Hermione Granger. Her eyes sparkled, and she looked agitated. She leaned towards him and whispered, almost breathless with indignation:

"Steven, you won't believe it! Snape tried to throw Harry off his broom! I saw it myself! He was muttering some spells, and Harry's broom was jerking! And if it hadn't been for Quirrell distracting him, he definitely would have done it! I told you he's a villain!"

Steven sighed, not looking up from his food. He was tired of this conspiracy theory. "Hermione," he said calmly, looking at her. "Not everything we see is true. Believe me, the world is much more complex than it seems. Sometimes what appears obvious is actually just part of a larger picture."

Hermione frowned, looking at him with distrust. She muttered something under her breath, but then, with a heavy sigh, decided to drop the subject. Perhaps she realized it was useless to argue with Steven, or she was simply tired. Instead, she changed the subject, and her face took on a more usual, curious expression.

"Steven, what are you going to do for the Christmas holidays?" she asked. "Are you going home?"

"I'm staying at school," he replied, shrugging.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You're not going to your family? But why?" There was a hint of sympathy in her voice.

Steven paused for a moment before answering. His gaze became slightly distant. "I don't have a family," he said in an even voice, without much expression. "Only servants. But I let them off for the holidays, let them rest. They show up once a week to keep the house in order, but otherwise... no one."

Hermione's eyes widened when she heard about the servants. Such a thing seemed strange and unusual for someone their age. She wanted to ask something but then said nothing, apparently not wanting to seem intrusive. An awkward silence fell.

Then Hermione, lost in thought, suddenly blushed deeply. She fidgeted with the edge of her robes and, without looking at Steven, quietly asked:

"And... and would you like to come with me? I mean... to my house for the holidays? My parents would be happy..." Her voice almost dissolved in the noise of the hall.

Steven, who was used to her usual rational behavior, was a little flustered. He looked at her, then looked away, trying to hide a slight blush that had appeared on his cheeks. "I... I don't think that would be appropriate, Hermione," he said, trying to maintain his usual calm tone, though he felt a slight discomposure inside. "Thank you for the offer, but..."

Hermione, understanding his reaction and perhaps her own awkwardness, laughed sheepishly. "Oh, right! I was just joking, of course! Just... just asking," she added quickly, her cheeks still burning.

To change the subject, she immediately continued: "By the way, Steven! We could go to the library! It's probably quiet there now since everyone is still celebrating. There's a book on ancient runes I wanted to show you, you seemed interested in it recently..."

Steven nodded with relief. The library was much better than the noise of Quidditch and strange offers. "Okay," he replied. "I'll finish eating now, and we can go. Just give me five minutes."

Hermione nodded happily, her usual confidence returning to her. While Steven finished his dinner, she was already making plans for what books they could study in the quiet peace of the school library, far from the raging passions of Quidditch fans and complex inter-house intrigues. For Steven, it was just another way to spend his time productively, satisfy his boundless hunger for knowledge, and get a bit of a break from socializing.