The Temptation of the Sorcerer's Stone

Cedric agreed with a smile, perhaps wanting to keep himself busy so he wouldn't sink into self-reproach, especially since he felt he had let Sprout down by failing to reach the finals.

"Alright, I'll ask for you while I'm at it. You're our Head of House's favorite student, yet you still managed to make her angry."

For over a month, Breeze hadn't earned a single point in Herbology. It wasn't that he had given up on the subject, but rather that he didn't dare raise his hand, and Sprout had been pointedly ignoring him.

"Oh, stop laughing. It wasn't intentional, and I had my reasons for doing what I did." Breeze looked at Cedric with his pure black eyes, acting as innocent as possible. "You'll help me get the box back, right, Ced?"

"Hiss..." Cedric nodded stiffly.

"I'll do my best."

Breeze happily finished another egg tart, waved at Cedric, and hurried out of the Great Hall. He had to visit McGonagall's office tonight; she wanted to check his progress in Transfiguration. He had already grasped the basics of transforming inanimate objects into living ones and believed he would soon be proficient.

"Come in, little Order."

McGonagall had started calling Breeze "little Order" in private. She liked sensible and studious young wizards, especially those who asked questions about Transfiguration—her specialty and her pride.

"Now, let me see. How about turning this cushion into a kitten?"

McGonagall handed the cushion from her chair to Breeze, who picked up his wand and cast a Transfiguration spell.

"Meow~"

A lifelike little black kitten appeared in Breeze's arms, nuzzling his hand affectionately.

As he handed the kitten to McGonagall, the soft touch made her raise her eyebrows in delight. She carefully examined the kitten's features and poked its nose. Only after the kitten sneezed did she use her own wand to sense the internal magical structure.

"Excellent. I must say, you are the most gifted young wizard I have ever seen in Transfiguration. Perhaps even Dumbledore wasn't this impressive in his first year."

McGonagall placed the kitten on the table and excitedly pulled a book titled Transfiguration Journal Collection 1 from her shelf for Breeze.

"I think you need this now. These are reports from the highest authority in Transfiguration—the Animagus Journal. I've collected them over the years. This isn't all of them, of course; there are many. Once you finish this one, you can come to me for the next. I will test you on the contents, and you must show me new surprises. When I feel you are ready, I will teach you more advanced techniques."

Patting Breeze on the head, McGonagall added, "Before that, you need to accumulate knowledge. You've only just taken a step past the basics. To achieve a qualitative change, you need more knowledge to touch upon related fields. Don't be impatient; a solid foundation is the most important strength in learning Transfiguration."

Breeze tucked the book away.

"Of course, I understand the dangers of Transfiguration. I promise not to attempt advanced techniques without your approval."

McGonagall was his senior and a master of Transfiguration; Breeze knew better than to be reckless. He wasn't arrogant. There were many geniuses in this world, but few strong ones. Dead geniuses weren't respected; they were merely mocked.

"I'm glad you understand. Now, go back and rest. I hope to see you at the Quidditch match tomorrow. You should watch more; it will help with your Flying Class."

Breeze couldn't agree with McGonagall's assessment. While he wasn't excellent in Flying Class, he certainly wasn't bad. It was clear she had other expectations for him, but he couldn't bring himself to enjoy the sport of crashing into things on a broomstick.

"Mm... Goodnight, Professor McGonagall. I hope Slytherin and Gryffindor have a good friendly match."

Breeze didn't say anything explicitly, but McGonagall understood his meaning.

Leaving her office, Breeze returned to the Slytherin common room. Instead of heading straight to his dormitory, he sat by the fireplace and silently began reading the Transfiguration reports McGonagall had compiled.

They were less like reports and more like papers where masters of the craft published their own theories. Anyone without interest or insight would likely find them headache-inducing.

"No one must have told you, but this is my seat, Order!"

Malfoy walked into the common room carrying a long, large package, followed by Goyle and Crabbe. Pansy, Daphne, and Theodore were already waiting, but they didn't dare challenge Breeze.

"Come and see! This is the new broom my father bought me to celebrate me winning the Quidditch championship!"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows excitedly.

"It's a Nimbus 2001, a custom-ordered model, not that soon-to-be-obsolete 2000, heh."

Harry's Nimbus 2000 was a gift from McGonagall and very precious, but Malfoy was a Malfoy; he would always get the best. He had a father who spoiled him despite his own words, having previously claimed he would only buy a new broom if Malfoy ranked first in his year.

Yet, here he was, receiving a broom that wouldn't be released until next year, just before the match. Tsk, how very Malfoy.

Breeze glanced up, watching Malfoy excitedly open the package and stroke the broom, a sight he found hard to stomach.

"Your father truly loves you. I just hope he won't be heartbroken if his son falls in love with a broom. Are you planning to kiss it now?"

Breeze looked away, returning his focus to his book. Compared to a broomstick—which he found too troublesome even for sweeping floors—Breeze preferred knowledge, even if these Transfiguration journals were profound and difficult.

He would need to find more reference materials in the library; he could find some in the general section, and leave the truly obscure ones for McGonagall to explain.

That was the benefit of having a teacher; they had already paved the path of learning, and all Breeze had to do was climb.

"Oh." Malfoy glared at Breeze and sat on the sofa next to him with his broom.

"You will never understand the charm of Quidditch. You have no idea what you're missing!" Malfoy was in high spirits, seemingly never having considered the possibility of losing.

Breeze couldn't help but deflate him. "Victory is never certain until the very last moment. Don't come crying to your father if you lose."

With that, Breeze cast a mocking glance at the red-faced Malfoy and ignored his fiery glare. The boy was sometimes mature, but other times incredibly childish. By comparison, Breeze felt he was more of a Slytherin than Malfoy.

A child raised in a honey pot, pretending to be an adult.

Shaking his head, Breeze decided to end the day. Tomorrow was a good opportunity. The Sorcerer's Stone—a treasure that could grant infinite wealth and longevity. Even the former owner of the Owlery had been willing to sell his soul for it.

Ever since Breeze learned a month ago that the Sorcerer's Stone was likely in the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor, he had been investigating it.

Nicolas Flamel, an alchemist who had lived for nearly six hundred years, was the only person in history to have created the Sorcerer's Stone. He was still alive and a close friend of Dumbledore.

The Sorcerer's Stone could turn stone into gold and create the Elixir of Life...

"But why is it here?"

Breeze couldn't fathom it, so he decided to go and see for himself. Tomorrow, during the Quidditch match, the students would be out, providing a perfect opportunity. The fourth-floor corridor had been a key patrol spot for Filch, and at night, Breeze had to take a detour just to reach the Forbidden Section of the library.

Early the next morning, Breeze remained curled up in his blankets, sleeping in, paying no mind to the racket Malfoy made while rushing to get dressed in his Quidditch team robes.

"How could someone so lazy and gluttonous be a Slytherin?"

Malfoy complained once again about the shabbiness of the Sorting Hat, but he had no time to waste in the dormitory with Breeze.

It was long after Malfoy had left that Breeze finally rose at a leisurely pace; this was the most comfortable sleep he had enjoyed in the past month.

By the time Breeze stepped out of the dormitory, the Slytherin common room was already empty. It seemed nearly all the little snakes had mobilized; after all, today was the match against Gryffindor. Slytherin was never lacking when it came to showing house unity, though whether they were truly united internally was another matter—that depended on each individual's own capabilities.

Using the Desillusionment Charm and the Disillusionment Charm, Breeze made his way to the fourth floor. He approached the end of the corridor, where a long-neglected passageway stood; it looked like this was the place.

However, just as Breeze was about to use the Gate of Opening, he heard sounds coming from outside!

Who was it?

How unlucky!

Seeing no place to hide nearby, Breeze had no choice but to open the door and step inside.

"Woof!"

A Three-headed Dog!

Why would there be a Three-headed Dog here? Breeze held his wand in a defensive stance, ready to cast a spell at a moment's notice, but the person behind him was already closing in, forcing him to prepare for an even more complicated crisis.

Let it not be Quirrell!

"Petrificus Totalus!" Breeze cast the spell at the head the Three-headed Dog was trying to thrust forward, but strangely, its three pairs of eyes were filled with nothing but grievance.

The spell only petrified it for a split second before it broke free, and from behind Breeze came another sound, along with a large hand reaching out to grab him.

"Get out here!"

Snape limped as he dragged Breeze out of the doorway and slammed it shut.

He glared fiercely at Breeze's flustered little face and huffed, "I believe Mr. Order needs to explain to me exactly why he is here."

Breeze's mind raced; how could he have known Snape would come? It was said that except for Dumbledore, who had to attend an important meeting off-campus, all the professors would be managing order. This was entrapment!

Breeze decided to be honest: "...I heard Professor Quirrell's words."

"What!"

Snape stared intently at Breeze's expression, as if trying to determine the truth of his words.

"I trust you would not frame a professor without cause, even if he fails to win the affection of the students."

"Of course, everyone deserves respect unless they have truly committed a wrong. I can guarantee that I am telling the truth; I swear it by Merlin's magic."

Today is a new beginning—well, the author has finally reached the first round of recommendations. It's a one-week recommendation, and keeping up with the reading is very important. I hope you treasures can flip through it every day.

Alright, thank you all for the collections, likes, recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, tips, and for keeping up with the reading!

Goodnight (The author uploads the next day's chapters on a timer every day to ensure a consistent update rhythm).