The moment Snape realized what image had flashed through his mind, his face darkened as if he had swallowed a mouthful of spoiled potion.
Let those Slytherin brats transfer their affections to Harley?
Absolutely not.
The thought alone gave him the unbearable feeling that his own daughter was being surrounded by a pack of yellow-haired delinquents.
They were not worthy.
At that moment, Dumbledore seemed to think of something and said thoughtfully, "Perhaps we could invite Gryffindor…"
"Don't even think about it!"
Snape's reaction was explosive. He turned on Dumbledore as if the old man had just suggested handing Hogwarts over to Voldemort.
"I disagree! Dumbledore, have you finally gone senile?"
Dumbledore blinked.
"…Severus, I meant inviting former Quidditch stars from Gryffindor and Slytherin to watch a match."
Snape froze.
Dumbledore continued, looking genuinely puzzled. "The winning house team could play a friendly match against them. I thought it might shift the students' attention toward Quidditch. Was that not a good idea?"
Snape's face went rigid.
"Quidditch," he repeated stiffly.
Then, as if forcing the word out through his teeth, he said, "Of course. I knew you meant Quidditch."
He paused for half a breath, then abruptly changed the subject.
"And have you taken your dental potion today? Are you planning to meet professional Quidditch players with that mouthful of sugar-rotted teeth?"
Without waiting for a reply, Snape swept away in a storm of black robes.
Dumbledore watched him leave, his expression faintly suspicious.
"Strange. Severus usually complains whenever I ask him for dental potion."
After a moment, he smiled.
"Still, it is good to see that he cares so much about Slytherin."
…
Inside the Room of Requirement, Theodore's fingers moved through a series of precise seals.
Threads of spiritual power gathered around the outfit Harry had brought him. Layer after layer of refining restrictions sank into the fabric, but ordinary cloth was still ordinary cloth. Before even the first restriction could fully stabilize, the material had already begun to strain.
Theodore flicked his finger.
A speck of golden merit-light fell into the garment.
The trembling fabric immediately settled.
Using merit to refine a set of clothes was, strictly speaking, extravagant. In the Primordial World, even immortals would curse him for wasting heavenly merit on something so trivial.
But Theodore did not care.
Harry had lent him the Invisibility Cloak. That Deathly Hallow had already allowed Theodore to glimpse a trace of spatial law. Compared to that opportunity, this little bit of merit was nothing.
Soon, seven restrictions settled into the garment.
Dustproof. Waterproof. Fire-resistant. A spirit barrier. Invisibility. Adaptive color and transparency. And finally, a charm-enhancing restriction that subtly refined the wearer's appearance and aura.
The moment the final restriction formed, the outfit changed completely.
By Primordial standards, it was only a low-grade magical artifact.
In the wizarding world, however, it was already beyond what most alchemists could even understand.
Theodore called Harry over.
Harry arrived almost immediately, eyes shining with anticipation.
"Drip a drop of blood on it," Theodore said. "That will make it easier to control."
Harry did as told. The moment his blood touched the fabric, a faint connection formed between him and the garment.
A short while later, Harley stepped out.
Even Theodore paused for half a second.
He had known from the beginning that Harry's female form had excellent foundations. But now, with the artifact's charm-enhancing restriction active, Harley did not merely look pretty.
She looked dazzling.
Her black hair was tied into twin tails. Her green eyes were bright and lively. The short hem of the robe revealed clean, pale lines, and the black silk stockings on her legs shifted between opacity and sheer translucence beneath the restriction's effect.
Harley looked at herself in the mirror, stunned.
"This is amazing."
Then she turned to Theodore, her eyes sparkling.
"Can I wear this for Quidditch?"
Theodore coughed.
"In theory, yes. The defense is better than armor. It prevents exposure, blocks dust and fire, and the restrictions cover the entire body."
After a pause, he added, "But if you wear this onto the pitch, your teammates and opponents may have trouble focusing."
Harley smiled.
"Then it's perfect."
Theodore looked away.
He suddenly felt that if Lily Potter ever came back to life, she might chase him across all of Hogwarts with a wand.
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