For most, morning at Hogwarts began with waking up, but for Stephen, it was a continuation of his work cycle. He preferred to study at night when the castle fell silent. That's when his mind worked best, and nothing distracted him from his work. Therefore, waking up in the mornings was difficult for him — it disrupted his usual, most efficient brain function. His private room, though smaller than the common dorms, was ideal: there was enough space for his scientific equipment and musical instruments, which helped him calm his mind.
When all the other first-years headed to the Great Hall for breakfast, Stephen was serenely asleep, as this aligned with his usual routine.
The first lesson — Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall — was scheduled to begin at nine. As the clock hands neared that time and Stephen still hadn't appeared, Professor McGonagall, known for her punctuality and strictness, frowned. She was used to students being afraid to be late for her lessons.
The class was already seated, but the professor seemed to be waiting. Suddenly, the door burst open, and a breathless Ron and Harry tumbled into the classroom, their robes askew. They hastily slipped into their seats.
At that moment, the cat sitting on the professor's desk twitched and, before the astonished first-years' eyes, transformed into the stern Professor McGonagall. The children gasped.
"Blimey!" Ron exhaled, staring at her.
"Mr. Weasley, could you explain why you and Mr. Potter are not in your seats?" McGonagall said dryly, raising an eyebrow ironically.
"We... we got lost, Professor," Harry stammered, blushing.
"Perhaps then I should transfigure you into a pocket watch?" McGonagall snapped, her voice ringing with indignation. "So you don't get lost?"
Ron and Harry, blushing even more, mumbled apologies.
But Professor McGonagall was not appeased. Her gaze swept across the rows, and she frowned again.
"It seems we have another absentee," she said, sweeping the class with a sharp glance. Her gaze stopped on one of the first-year Ravenclaw girls, who was sitting closest to the door. "Miss Brown, be a dear and fetch Mr. Strange. He is absent from class."
The girl quickly darted out of the classroom. A few minutes later, the door swung open, and Stephen appeared in the doorway. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes squinted, and even his usually neat robes seemed rumpled. He looked very sleepy, barely suppressing a yawn. He moved slowly, and his usual precision and confidence were absent from his movements.
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Strange, you are late for my lesson. This is unacceptable."
Stephen slowly nodded. His brain worked very sluggishly, trying to understand what was happening and formulate a suitable answer.
"My apologies, Professor," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I'm a night owl, and it's hard for me to think in the morning. Perhaps I need to enchant my mattress to throw me out of bed at precisely eight."
A ripple of quiet chuckles went through the class, immediately cut short by McGonagall's stern gaze.
"At Hogwarts, Mr. Strange, we adhere to a schedule," she said in an icy tone. "It doesn't matter if you are a night owl or a morning lark. Sit down."
Stephen silently took the empty seat, pulled out parchment and a quill, trying to collect himself. It took him a few minutes for his brain to start working properly.
In the Transfiguration classroom, there was complete silence. Professor McGonagall, as expected, was very strict and demanding. She transformed her desk into a pig and then back again, demonstrating how matter changes and how much energy it requires. Then she explained that Transfiguration was one of the most complex and dangerous types of magic.
"Anyone who plays jokes in my lessons," she said sharply, sweeping her gaze across the class, "will immediately leave the classroom and not return."
Stephen listened carefully. His mind dissected every explanation: spell formulas, wand movements, magical power. He already knew the theory of Transfiguration from books, but the practical demonstration helped him connect what he had read with what he saw.
During the lesson, Ron couldn't seem to transform his match into a needle, which puzzled Stephen slightly.
"He lacks clear intention and strength of mind," he quietly muttered, observing Ron's unsuccessful attempts.
The most unusual lesson was History of Magic with Professor Binns, the only ghost professor. He floated through the blackboard, muttering about ancient goblin rebellions and giant wars. Most students fell asleep. Stephen, however, saw it as a valuable source of information, despite the dull delivery. He meticulously recorded historical facts, how the magical world was structured, and when things happened, creating his database to further search for patterns.
In the evening, after dinner, when the other first-years went to their common rooms, Stephen, instead of going to bed, decided to continue his research. His goal was the Forbidden Section of the library. Access there was strictly limited, but Stephen had long understood that true knowledge was often hidden behind barriers. He studied the library's layout and read accounts of how it was protected. He knew he wouldn't get permission, so he decided to break in without it.
He quietly slipped into the corridor leading to the library. It was dark and cold. Stephen activated the night vision in his glasses and a thermal scanner to locate hidden heat sources or living beings. His steps were silent, and his movements precise and deliberate.
Using a complex Unlocking Charm and cunning diversions (several magical sounds resembling Filch's footsteps at the other end of the castle), Stephen managed to bypass the protective enchantments and traps on the library doors. He slipped inside. His heart beat steadily, and excitement didn't prevent him from thinking clearly. He passed the main halls, heading directly for the Forbidden Section.
The massive, locked gates separating the Forbidden Section were not just closed — they were enchanted. Many protective spells hung on them, which Stephen could recognize by their energy signatures. Carefully working his wand and using his deep knowledge of how to remove enchantments, he neutralized each spell step by step. It took a long time and required immense focus, but his persistence and sharp mind were rewarded. Finally, with a quiet click, the gates opened.
Stephen stepped inside. The Forbidden Section was full of ancient, dusty books, from which a strong, almost palpable aura of old magic emanated. The air was heavy with the smell of parchment and something subtly alluring. Here were books never found in ordinary catalogs, books written in forgotten languages, with illustrations that seemed to come alive on the pages.
He began his methodical work. His eyes quickly scanned the book spines, selecting those containing the most valuable and potentially dangerous information: about the dark arts, forgotten rituals, powerful artifacts, mind magic. He took out books, quickly scanned their contents with his photographic memory, and instantly processed the information, storing it in his mind. He took short notes to double-check the main ideas and assumptions later.
Time flew by unnoticed. Stephen was completely absorbed in the information, his consciousness working at full capacity. He turned page after page, absorbing knowledge that would take an ordinary wizard decades. He found mentions of the Philosopher's Stone, its properties and creation, as well as ancient protections designed to guard it. This information was very important.
He continued to read even as the first rays of dawn began to penetrate through the high windows of the library, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Only when the castle began to wake up, and the first footsteps of the caretaker Filch were heard, did Stephen realize how much time he had spent in the Forbidden Section.
He quickly but carefully returned the books to their places, ensuring he left no trace. Then, just as silently as he had entered, he slipped back through the main hall of the library, bypassed the reactivated protective charms, and exited.
Back in his room, Stephen collapsed onto his bed. His body was very tired, but his mind was full of new data to sort and organize. He closed his eyes, knowing his daytime schedule would be disrupted again, but the information gained was worth it. Hogwarts was full of mysteries, and Stephen Strange was ready to unravel them, using his logic and scientific approach, even if it meant sacrificing sleep.