Cedric smiled and agreed to help Breeze. Maybe he wanted to keep himself busy, too, so he wouldn't get caught up in guilt—especially by helping his Head of House. He felt terrible about not making it to the finals, knowing he had let Sprout down.
"All right. I'll ask around for you, too. You're our Head of House's favorite student, and somehow you've still managed to make her angry."
For over a month, Breeze hadn't earned a single point in Herbology. It wasn't that he'd given up on learning the subject; he simply didn't dare raise his hand, and Professor Sprout had been ignoring him, too.
"Oh, stop laughing. It's not like I did it on purpose. What can I say? I had a reason for messing up." Breeze looked at Cedric with wide, innocent black eyes. "You'll get my box back for me, right, Ced?"
"Er..." Cedric stiffly nodded.
"I'll do my best."
Breeze happily ate another egg-yolk pastry, waved to Cedric, and hurried out of the Great Hall. Tonight, he needed to visit Professor McGonagall's office. She was going to test his progress in Transfiguration. He had already gained a decent grasp of transforming both inanimate objects and living things, and he was sure he'd soon become proficient.
"Come in, little Order."
Professor McGonagall had started calling Breeze "little Order" in private. She liked well-behaved, studious young wizards, especially those who asked about Transfiguration. It was her specialty and her pride.
"Now, let's see. How about turning that cushion into a kitten?"
Professor McGonagall handed Breeze the cushion from her chair. He took out his wand and cast Transfiguration on it.
"Meow~"
A lifelike little black cat appeared in Breeze's arms, nuzzling against the back of his hand affectionately.
He handed the kitten to Professor McGonagall. Pleased by its soft fur, she raised her eyebrows and carefully examined its body. She pinched its nose, and when it sneezed, she used her wand to sense the magic within it.
"Excellent. I have to say, you're the most talented young wizard at Transfiguration I've ever met. Perhaps even Dumbledore wasn't as good as you at this age."
Professor McGonagall set the kitten on the desk, then excitedly took a book from her shelf and handed it to Breeze: Transfiguration Journal Collection 1.
"I think you need this now. It contains articles published over the years in the most authoritative journal on Transfiguration—the Animagus Journal. I've collected them all, though this isn't the complete set. There are many more. Once you've finished this volume, come ask me for another. I'll quiz you on what you've read, too. You'll have to keep surprising me. When I think you're ready, I'll teach you more advanced Transfiguration."
She ruffled Breeze's hair. "Before then, you need to build up your knowledge. You've only taken one more step beyond the basics of Transfiguration. To make a qualitative leap, you need to learn more and explore related subjects. Don't rush. A solid foundation is the most important part of learning Transfiguration."
Breeze put the book away.
"Of course. I understand how dangerous Transfiguration can be. I promise I won't try to learn anything advanced without your approval."
Professor McGonagall was an elder and a master of Transfiguration. Breeze knew better than to be arrogant. He wasn't so conceited as to think otherwise. There were plenty of geniuses in this world, but few became truly powerful. The dead weren't respected as geniuses; people only made fun of them.
"Good. Now go get some rest. I hope to see you at tomorrow's Quidditch Match. You should watch more games; it'll help with your Flying Class."
Breeze didn't agree with Professor McGonagall. He wasn't outstanding in Flying Class, but he was certainly not bad. It was clear that she had other expectations for him, but he was afraid he couldn't accept a sport that involved careening around on a broomstick.
"Um... good night, Professor McGonagall. I hope Slytherin and Gryffindor have a good friendly match."
Breeze didn't spell out what he meant, but Professor McGonagall understood.
After leaving her office, Breeze returned to the Slytherin common room. He didn't head straight to his dormitory, but sat by the fireplace and quietly read the articles Professor McGonagall had collected.
They were called articles, but they were really the ideas of Transfiguration experts, published much like academic papers. Anyone without an interest in the subject—or their own thoughts about it—would probably find them a headache.
"I don't think anyone's told you this is my seat, Order!"
Malfoy walked into the common room carrying a long package, with Goyle and Crabbe behind him. Pansy, Daphne, and Theodore had already been waiting there, but none of them dared to criticize Breeze.
"Come and take a look! My father bought me a new broom to celebrate my winning the Quidditch championship!"
Malfoy raised his eyebrows excitedly.
"It's a Nimbus 2001, a custom-made model. It's not some outdated Nimbus 2000 that's about to go out of production. Heh."
Harry's Nimbus 2000 had been a gift from McGonagall, and it was incredibly precious. But Malfoy was a Malfoy, so he always got something better. After all, he had a father who pretended to be stern but spoiled him rotten. His father had said he'd only buy him a new broom if he came top of his year.
Yet here he was, giving him a Nimbus 2001—a broom that wouldn't even be released until next year—before the match. Tsk. Typical Malfoy.
Breeze glanced up. Watching Malfoy excitedly open the package and stroke the broom made him cringe.
"Your father must really love you. I hope he won't be heartbroken if his son falls in love with a broom. Are you going to kiss it now?"
Breeze looked back at his book. Compared to a broomstick—an object so troublesome you wouldn't even want to sweep with it—he preferred knowledge, even if these Transfiguration articles were difficult to understand.
He'd have to find more reference books in the library. The ordinary section would have what he needed, and he could save the more difficult questions for Professor McGonagall.
That was the advantage of having a teacher: she had already prepared the path for him. All Breeze had to do was climb it.
"Oh." Malfoy glared at Breeze, then carried his broom over and sat on the sofa beside him.
"You'll never understand the appeal of Quidditch. You have no idea what you're missing!" Malfoy was in a good mood. He didn't seem to have considered that he might lose.
Breeze couldn't resist taking a jab at him. "Victory is never certain. You won't know who wins until the very last moment. Don't cry and run to your father for comfort if you lose."
Breeze finished speaking and glanced teasingly at Malfoy, whose face had gone red. He ignored Malfoy's furious glare. The boy could be mature sometimes, but other times he was unbelievably childish. Compared to him, Breeze even felt like more of a Slytherin.
A child raised in a honey pot, pretending to be an adult.
Shaking his head, Breeze decided to end the day and get some rest. Tomorrow would be a good opportunity. The Sorcerer's Stone—now that was a treasure that could bring infinite wealth and life. Even the former owner of the Owlery had been willing to sell his soul for it.
A month ago, when Breeze learned that the Sorcerer's Stone might be in the Forbidden Corridor on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, he'd begun looking into it.
Nicolas Flamel was an alchemist who had lived for nearly six hundred years, the only person in history to make the Sorcerer's Stone. He was still alive, and he was friends with Dumbledore.
The Sorcerer's Stone could turn metal into gold and make the Elixir of Life...
"But why is it here?"
Breeze couldn't figure it out, so he decided to go and see for himself. The students would all be out at the Quidditch Match tomorrow, making it a good opportunity. The fourth-floor Forbidden Corridor had been one of Filch's main patrol routes lately, so at night Breeze had to go the long way around to visit the Forbidden Section.
Early the next morning, Breeze stayed curled up beneath his blankets, sleeping in. He paid no attention to the noise Malfoy made as he hurried to get dressed in his Quidditch team uniform.
"How can someone so greedy and lazy be a Slytherin?"
Malfoy complained about the Sorting Hat's shabby condition once again, but he didn't have time to waste in the dormitory with Breeze.
It was a long while after Malfoy left before Breeze finally got up. He'd slept better than he had in the entire past month.
By the time Breeze left the dormitory, the Slytherin common room was empty. It seemed almost all the young snakes had headed out. After all, they were playing Gryffindor today. Slytherin had never been lacking in displays of house unity, though whether they were actually united internally didn't matter. That came down to each person's own ability.
Using the Desillusionment Charm and the Disillusionment Charm, Breeze made his way to the fourth floor and approached the end of the corridor. There was a passage here that looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in ages. This had to be the place.
But just as Breeze was about to open the door, he heard a noise outside!
Who was it?
What rotten luck!
Breeze saw nowhere to hide, so he could only open the door and go inside.
"Woof!"
A Three-headed Dog!
Why was there a Three-headed Dog here? Breeze held his wand at the ready, prepared to cast a spell at any moment. But someone was already approaching from behind, and he had to prepare for an even more complicated crisis.
Hopefully it wasn't Quirrell!
"Petrificus Totalus!" Breeze cast the spell at the head reaching toward him. But strangely, all six of the dog's eyes looked deeply aggrieved.
The spell only paralyzed it for an instant before it broke free. Another voice came from behind Breeze, along with a large hand reaching to grab him.
"Get out here!"
Snape dragged Breeze out through the doorway, limping, then slammed it shut.
He glared fiercely at Breeze's flustered face and snorted. "I think Mr. Order needs to explain why he's here."
Breeze ran through the possibilities in his mind. How could he have known Snape would show up? Wasn't Dumbledore the only professor going off-campus to attend an important meeting? Hadn't all the other professors been assigned to keep order? This was a setup!
Breeze decided to be honest. "...I heard Professor Quirrell talking."
"What!"
Snape stared intently at Breeze, seemingly trying to decide whether he was telling the truth.
"I don't think you'd accuse a professor without reason, even if he isn't popular with the students."
"Of course. Everyone deserves respect unless they've actually done something wrong. I can assure you I'm telling the truth. I swear it by Merlin's magic."
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