On Tuesday night, Theodore Ashbourne and Harry left the Gryffindor common room and headed down the corridor toward Professor Snape's office.
Unlike in the "original timeline", where Harry treated any trip to Snape's office like a march to the gallows, tonight he practically hummed—like he was walking home. He even had the headspace to whisper with Theo about whether Snape might teach him a few signature hexes.
"You know how it is, Theo—Professor Snape's been so good to me."
Theo's thoughts turned complicated. Say that again after you take the makeup off for a week—let's see if you still call him 'so good'.
Before he could reply, a pallid figure popped into view at the end of the hall—a wide, slit-smile under a cap—and cackled shrilly as it zipped through the stone, arrowing straight for them.
"Little wizards! Little wizards out past bedtime!"
Harry blanched. "Oh no. Peeves! He'll bring Filch in a heartbeat!"
Theo, by contrast, studied the spectre with open curiosity. Peeves's origins were anything but ordinary; rumour had it he'd cropped up with the castle itself at Hogwarts's founding. No one knew who—or what—he'd been in life. The Founders had indulged his chaos; centuries of pranks hadn't dimmed him one watt.
That alone made Theo pause. Most ghosts dulled over the long years, their senses sanding down to numbness—Professor Binns being the textbook case. Peeves, though, was still a menace after a millennium. Different category.
Then the System chimed, and Theo's focus snapped inward.
You roam at night and stumble upon a passing of underworld soldiery. The one leading them is a Night-Wandering Deity.
This god oversees virtue, vice, and mortal fate—hunts wrathful spirits and guides lost souls.
Befriending him promises benefit.
Theo's eyes lit up. Ghosts could be recognised as beings from the Flooded Age? He hadn't expected that. If Peeves mapped to a Night-Wandering Deity, then Nearly Headless Nick might well key to a Day-Wandering Deity. And the Bloody Baron, whose status even Peeves respected—judge, or even a minor Yama?
It tracked. Hogwarts ghosts lacked bodies, much like the denizens of the Yin Courts; the mapping wasn't crazy.
He read on.
Acquaintance → Talent: Soul-Calling. Night-Wanderers commune with souls; at a word, those with souls answer. Though you aren't a god, you may, using a proper medium, briefly awaken a sleeping soul. (Consumes aura.)
Close Friend → Talent: God of the Night. Night-Wanderers are favoured by darkness; at night their arts surge. You may likewise gain a power boost beneath night.
Life-Bond → Talent: Writ of Wraith-Conscription. Night-Wanderers hold high rank; they may seize souls and elevate them as wraith-captains and underlings. Though you aren't a god, you may conscript three wraith captains and twelve wraith soldiers. (Consumes aura.)
Theo's pulse kicked. Jackpot.
"God of the Night" was already practical; pair it later with a Day-Wanderer's boon and he'd have round-the-clock buffs. But Soul-Calling and Writ of Wraith-Conscription were the real treasures.
Soul work was premium currency in the wizarding world. The Resurrection Stone could call shades… with strings attached. Theo's new route? No cursed hallmark, and the conscription writ trumped the Stone outright.
And Soul-Calling? In the right hands, it could move mountains of goodwill. Wake Lily's soul for Snape, even for minutes? Summon Ariana for Dumbledore? For a chance at such a reunion, they'd pay any price—and relationships would rocket to max.
Theo looked up at Peeves the way a prospector looks at a gold vein. Peeves faltered, the manic grin thinning. Something in Theo's presence pressed on him—an old, cold dread, like the shadow of a god turning its face.
The poltergeist went a little… translucent. Then he overcompensated, whirling loops over Theo's head and screeching.
"Weird little wizard! Don't like how you're looking at Peeves! Apologise to Peeves or Peeves will make you suffer!"
Theo's eyes cooled. Peeves, by reputation and by feel, was the brattiest of brats. You didn't handle brats with patience and empathy—you taught them to fear the line.
Canon said Peeves feared two beings: the Bloody Baron and Dumbledore. The first had stabbed the Grey Lady; the second could, in theory, erase a ghost with a thought. Peeves also flinched when the Basilisk prowled—the serpent's gaze bit even spirits.
In short: he respected whatever could hurt him.
Theo didn't tote anti-spectre charms… but he did carry the Adamantine Body, Unclouded Mind. That golden, unmoving core suppressed outside evils. Ghosts felt that weight too.
A faint gold washed Theo's palm.
He bent his knees, sprang, and pressed down toward Peeves with one open hand.
For a heartbeat, Peeves went chalk-white, colour draining like water from ink. Pure panic rolled off him.
"MURDER! Little wizard is murdering a ghost!"
Harry winced. "Er—maybe we should—uh—get inside Snape's office first?"
Theo landed lightly, gold fading. "Only if Peeves behaves."
Peeves froze in mid-air, eyeing that hand like it was a guillotine. He didn't bolt—brats never ran while they were still calculating—but he did stop screaming long enough for two Gryffindors to pass by unmolested.
Theo smiled a fraction. Acquaintance first. Then we talk talent.
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