Harry watched, horrified, as Theodore calmly and expertly petted the tabby cat in his hands.
The loud, rumbling purrs drifting up from Professor McGonagall's feline throat sounded, to Harry, less like contentment and more like a death knell.
"Theodore," he whispered, terrified, "when Professor McGonagall comes to her senses, she is not going to let you off."
"She'll probably give you ten times the Transfiguration homework."
Theodore didn't even blink.
"Too late to worry about that now. What's done is done."
"Besides, do you really think if I stop now, she'll just forget about the homework?"
He tilted his head.
"And anyway, there's always Hermione. Homework's practically her hobby. Harry, you sure you don't want a turn?"
Harry thought about it.
He had a point.
The disaster was already in full swing. If he didn't at least pet the cat once, wouldn't that be wasting the risk?
A strange calm settled on him. He shuffled closer and, with both hands, started gently squishing Professor McGonagall's furry cheeks.
The purring got louder.
Only when Theodore's gaze flicked up to the System and he saw Professor McGonagall's Animagus form sliding from "casual acquaintance" to "close friend" did he finally pause.
A fresh line of text blossomed across the panel.
Youand∗∗PerfectedCihang∗∗haveengagedinadeepexchangeontheDaoofTransformation.Todemonstrate,PerfectedCihangoffersapersonaldisplayofthisPath.You and **Perfected Cihang** have engaged in a deep exchange on the Dao of Transformation. To demonstrate, Perfected Cihang offers a personal display of this Path.Youand∗∗PerfectedCihang∗∗haveengagedinadeepexchangeontheDaoofTransformation.Todemonstrate,PerfectedCihangoffersapersonaldisplayofthisPath.
YourrelationshipwithPerfectedCihanghasreached∗∗CloseFriend∗∗.Your relationship with Perfected Cihang has reached **Close Friend**.YourrelationshipwithPerfectedCihanghasreached∗∗CloseFriend∗∗.
Youobtainthe∗∗PurifyingGlazedBottleRefiningMethod∗∗!You obtain the **Purifying Glazed Bottle Refining Method**!Youobtainthe∗∗PurifyingGlazedBottleRefiningMethod∗∗!
Receivethisrewardnow?Receive this reward now?Receivethisrewardnow?
A spark lit in Theodore's eyes. He reluctantly withdrew his hand from the warm, soft fur.
Clarity returned to McGonagall's feline gaze at once.
With a single bound, she sprang out of his grasp, hitting the floor several feet away. Before she changed back, she shot Theodore one last, scorching glare.
In all her years of teaching, she had never met a student this brazen.
Harry shivered.
"Theodore, I told you. Did you see the way she looked at you?"
Theodore glanced at the System again, just in time to see their bond quietly slip back from "close friend" to "casual acquaintance."
He shrugged.
Whatever. The reward was already his.
Let the relationship do whatever it liked.
Right then, Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, hurried up, muttering under his breath. His expression was puzzled.
"Strange. Professor McGonagall sent me a message, told me to wait for her—said she was bringing me two promising recruits."
"Where'd she go?"
Theodore flashed him a bright smile.
"Wood, Professor McGonagall wasn't feeling very well. She had to leave early."
"As for the students she mentioned… that'd be us."
Wood's eyes lit up as he looked them over.
He started with Harry, circling once like a professional scout at a tryout.
"Good, very good. Short and light—perfect build for a Seeker."
"Quick, agile… We'll need to get you a proper broom. I'll talk to Professor McGonagall, see about arranging a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Comet Two-Sixty for you."
Then his gaze swung to Theodore.
"Theodore Snow. I saw you deck Flint in the Great Hall. Nice hit."
"I've never seen that muscle-bound troll take a beating like that. You're a born Beater."
There was a note of regret in his tone.
Beaters were important, but no one in Quidditch had the sheer game-defining weight of a Seeker. One caught the Snitch, the game ended, one hundred and fifty points straight to the board.
Seekers were special.
Theodore's lips curled into a sly smile.
A natural Beater, huh?
With Staffwork Reaches the Divine backing him, he could casually swing a bat and produce hits more precise and vicious than any professional Beater on the circuit.
And that wasn't even counting the rest of his talents.
No need to show his full hand yet. Once Quidditch practice began, the Gryffindor team would see for themselves.
Wood clapped them both on the shoulder, almost bouncing with excitement.
"With the two of you on board, I'd say we've got a real shot at becoming the strongest Gryffindor team in a hundred years."
"The next few House Cups? As good as ours."
Theodore shook his head, voice light.
"Come now, Captain. A person needs proper dreams."
"With a lineup this strong, and you're only aiming for House Cups?"
"Who says we can't make it to the World Cup? Maybe even win the World Cup?"
Wood choked, staring at him as though he'd just suggested flying to the moon.
Then he burst out laughing.
"You know what? Why not. Maybe we can make it to the World Cup."
"Merlin's beard—if we pulled that off, it'd be the first time in Hogwarts history. We'd be making legends."
"Right, then. You two had better train like maniacs."
Grinning from ear to ear, he hurried off to his next class.
He was already in fifth year; O.W.L.s loomed large on the horizon. And in two short years, he'd be leaving Hogwarts behind for the wider wizarding world.
His time as Gryffindor's Quidditch captain was almost up.
If he could grab one, maybe two House Cups before then, he'd be able to retire from school Quidditch without regrets.
That meant he'd have to put in absolutely everything he had this year.
Harry watched him go, then turned to Theodore.
"I don't think he believed you," he said.
"Honestly… I'm not sure I do either."
"Theodore, do you really think we could play in the World Cup?"
"I don't know much about Quidditch, but I've heard of the football World Cup. There are national teams that don't manage to qualify once in ten years."
Theodore just smiled.
For him, Quidditch was more than a game. It was a convenient way to expand his social circle.
A mere House championship was small change. Nice, but hardly worth the kind of effort he was prepared to pour in.
The World Cup, though…
At that level, players like Viktor Krum weren't the only draw. People like Nicolas Flamel and other heavyweights might turn up in the stands. The networking opportunities alone were priceless.
If it were just Harry and the others, a national team, let alone a World Cup appearance, would be a fantasy.
But add Theodore Snow into the equation…
Not so impossible anymore.
He didn't say all that out loud. Instead, he simply clapped Harry on the shoulder.
"Dreams never hurt anyone."
"And besides, I've heard Durmstrang has a genius Seeker called Viktor Krum. Rumour is he's already in talks with their national team, might be picked up this year."
"Harry, I don't think your talent is any worse than his. As a Seeker, you're absolutely national-team material. The World Cup—that's your stage."
Harry's eyes lit up.
The World Cup…
With Theodore around, maybe that wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded.
The glow lasted all of thirty seconds before a bone-deep weariness washed over him. Every muscle ached. Every breath felt heavy.
When they reached the castle, Harry headed straight for the common room. A bed and a long sleep were the only things on his mind.
Theodore, on the other hand, slipped away down a side corridor.
A quick Disillusionment Charm shimmered over his body; he disappeared from sight and made his way, step by familiar step, up to the eighth floor and the Room of Requirement.
He hadn't expected to see anyone there.
Which was why he blinked in surprise when Professor Quirrell came hurrying out from near the tapestry of the troll trying to club the knight.
No—judging by the aura clinging to him, this was no longer Quirrell at the wheel. Voldemort was in charge.
What's he doing here?
Had the new information about Harry being a Horcrux prompted him to pop over and check on the diadem hidden in Hogwarts as well?
Theodore held his breath.
He didn't care if other pieces of the story shifted and twisted. But if the Horcruxes started moving around the chessboard, things would get… irritating.
Fortunately, the expression on Quirrell's face remained smooth. No traces of discovery, no sudden flare of rage.
He strode past, absent-minded and preoccupied.
Whether it was the distraction of his thoughts about Harry—or the combined effect of Theodore's Disillusionment Charm and his Hidden Breath, Veiled Machine talent—Voldemort never so much as twitched in Theodore's direction.
Only once the turbaned figure had vanished around the corner did Theodore let out a quiet breath.
Good thing he'd held off on touching the diadem.
If he'd tampered with it already… Voldemort would be frothing.
Who knew what he'd do then? Maybe he'd yank the rest of his Horcruxes out of their current hiding places and stash them somewhere truly impossible—to reach them, you'd need a time machine, a submarine, and about three miracles.
Theodore wasn't afraid of a changing plot.
He just didn't see the point in making his own life more complicated than it needed to be.
Ravenclaw's diadem could wait until Voldemort had more pressing problems to occupy him.
Right now, Theodore had something far more urgent to take care of.
He drew a deep breath, stepped in front of the blank stretch of wall, and paced back and forth three times, thinking hard of what he needed.
The door to the Room of Requirement blossomed into existence.
He slipped inside.
His eyes went straight to the glowing System interface, where an entire column of unclaimed rewards waited patiently.
"All right then," Theodore murmured, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Time for the harvest."
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