The first person to notice something was wrong was not Dumbledore.
Nor was it Theodore.
It was Peeves.
Which, admittedly, made the discovery considerably less respectable.
A second-year Ravenclaw had been walking beneath a suit of armor near the Charms corridor when Peeves suddenly burst out of a wall shrieking with laughter.
"Duck! Duck! Duck!"
The student, understandably, ignored him.
A heartbeat later, the armor detached from its stand and crashed onto the exact spot where the boy had been standing.
Had he not flinched at Peeves' scream, he would have been flattened.
The incident was dismissed as an accident.
Then another occurred.
And another.
And another.
A broom handle snapped during practice.
A cauldron exploded despite being brewed correctly.
A staircase shifted three seconds earlier than normal.
A chandelier chain unexpectedly loosened.
Nothing fatal.
Nothing dramatic.
But enough to make people uneasy.
By the third day, even the students were whispering about it.
"It feels like Hogwarts is angry."
"It feels like someone's cursed the castle."
"I heard a seventh-year got locked inside a broom cupboard for six hours."
"That's not weird. That's just Hogwarts."
"Fair point."
The atmosphere throughout the castle gradually changed.
Nobody could explain why.
Yet everyone could feel it.
A tension.
A pressure.
Like a storm gathering beyond the horizon.
Meanwhile, Theodore stood beneath the branches of an ancient oak overlooking the Black Lake.
His eyes were closed.
The Cave Heaven Eye remained active.
Countless invisible threads drifted through the air before him.
Most were gray.
A few were black.
They tangled together like a web stretching across Hogwarts.
The influence of Heaven's Extinction had begun spreading.
Not directly.
Not violently.
It preferred nudges.
Tiny alterations.
A slightly misplaced step.
A brief lapse of concentration.
A moment of bad luck.
Individually meaningless.
Accumulated over weeks?
Potentially catastrophic.
Theodore reached out and touched one of the black threads.
The thread immediately twisted.
Like a venomous snake sensing prey.
Then—
A faint green light emerged beneath the soil.
The black thread shuddered.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
It loosened.
A smile appeared on Theodore's face.
The first foundation was working.
Three days ago, when he began planting the framework of the Wuzhuang Temple Grand Array, he had no intention of confronting Heaven's Extinction head-on.
That would have been foolish.
Even incomplete, the Ten Absolute Arrays carried tribulation qi and traces of something far beyond modern magic.
Fortunately, Theodore didn't need to overpower it.
He merely needed to establish order.
Every tree.
Every stream.
Every patch of earth.
Every wandering thread of spiritual energy.
Each could become part of the array.
The process was slow.
But the effect was undeniable.
Wherever the roots of Willow Immortal extended, the corruption weakened.
Not destroyed.
Suppressed.
Contained.
Disciplined.
Like weeds growing through cracks in stone.
Theodore opened his eyes.
The green glow beneath the earth had become noticeably stronger.
Willow Immortal was adapting quickly.
Much faster than expected.
Its roots now stretched through large portions of Hogwarts' grounds.
Every day they spread further.
Every day they absorbed more spiritual energy.
Every day they grew closer to becoming the true heart of the future blessed land.
"Not bad."
A leaf drifted down from above.
Theodore caught it between two fingers.
The leaf vibrated happily.
Almost smugly.
He laughed.
"You want praise now?"
The leaf twirled in a circle.
Theodore shook his head.
Willow Immortal was becoming increasingly intelligent.
At this rate, it might begin speaking sooner than expected.
Far away, beneath the Quidditch pitch.
Quirrell sneezed.
Then immediately jumped.
Nothing happened.
He waited several seconds before sighing in relief.
Ever since Theodore had appeared beside the first array node, Quirrell had developed a mild fear of literally everything.
Every shadow.
Every sound.
Every rustling leaf.
His life experience over the last month had taught him an important lesson.
If Theodore Snow appeared nearby, pain followed shortly afterward.
The relationship was practically causal.
"Master..."
Quirrell whispered while checking his surroundings for the fifth time.
"Are you absolutely certain this time will work?"
A long silence followed.
Then Voldemort answered.
"Of course."
Quirrell's eye twitched.
Unfortunately, those were exactly the words he no longer trusted.
The first time Voldemort said that, Quirrell got struck by lightning.
The second time involved a fire crab.
The third time involved carnivorous vegetables.
The fourth time involved a miniature homicidal willow.
At this point, hearing "this time will work" felt alarmingly similar to hearing one's own obituary.
Still.
He kept those thoughts to himself.
Mostly because he enjoyed being alive.
Voldemort continued.
"Theodore interrupted one node."
"So what?"
"The array remains active."
"The remaining nodes are functioning perfectly."
"Besides, his actions have revealed something useful."
Quirrell hesitated.
"What?"
"Theodore is worried."
Voldemort sounded pleased.
Dangerously pleased.
"Think about it."
"If he wasn't worried, why interfere?"
"If he wasn't threatened, why react immediately?"
"He saw the array and moved."
"Which means the array matters."
The Dark Lord's confidence returned with every word.
"His strength exceeds expectations."
"Fine."
"Then we attack what strength cannot solve."
"Fortune."
"Coincidence."
"Probability."
The incomplete Heaven's Extinction Array was already producing results.
Small results.
But results nonetheless.
And Voldemort had always understood one thing.
A thousand small failures could accomplish what one grand attack could not.
Inside the Great Hall.
Hermione frowned at her parchment.
Then frowned harder.
Then looked offended.
Her quill had just snapped.
Again.
That was the third one this week.
Across the table, Ron looked equally suspicious.
"My chess set keeps cheating."
Hermione blinked.
"That's ridiculous."
"No, seriously."
Ron pointed dramatically.
"My rook moved by itself."
"The black queen winked at me."
Harry looked up from breakfast.
"Maybe they don't respect your strategy."
Ron gasped.
"Traitor."
The conversation might have continued.
Except something suddenly landed beside Hermione's plate.
A small green leaf.
Hermione recognized it immediately.
Theodore.
She picked it up.
The leaf glowed softly before dissolving into faint motes of light.
Understanding appeared on her face.
"What happened?"
Harry asked.
Hermione looked toward the castle windows.
"Theodore says not to worry."
Ron immediately relaxed.
"Brilliant."
Harry laughed.
"You didn't even ask what the message was."
"Don't need to."
Ron grabbed another sausage.
"If Theodore says not to worry, then worrying sounds like extra work."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Yet despite herself, she smiled.
Because she felt the same way.
That evening.
Albus Dumbledore stood atop the Astronomy Tower.
Wind tugged gently at his robes.
Below him, Hogwarts stretched into the darkness.
Magnificent.
Ancient.
Enduring.
And changing.
His gaze slowly moved across the grounds.
Most would have seen nothing.
Dumbledore saw patterns.
The trees.
The streams.
The movement of magical energy.
Something was growing beneath the surface.
Not corruption.
Something else.
Something protective.
Something patient.
Almost as though Hogwarts itself had begun cultivating a second heartbeat.
His fingers tapped lightly against the stone railing.
For a long moment, he remained silent.
Then he murmured:
"Theodore..."
The name vanished into the night wind.
Whatever game was unfolding around Hogwarts, Theodore was already several moves ahead.
Dumbledore wasn't sure whether that reassured him or concerned him.
Perhaps both.
The following morning, an owl arrived.
Then another.
Then twenty more.
Professional Quidditch players.
Sponsors.
Journalists.
Representatives.
Invitations.
Schedules.
Tournament preparations accelerated overnight.
The castle exploded into activity.
Students were ecstatic.
Teachers were busy.
Visitors would begin arriving within days.
Yet as Theodore watched the excitement spread throughout Hogwarts, a different realization settled in his mind.
The enemy wasn't targeting the tournament itself.
The tournament was merely the stage.
The crowd.
The attention.
The gathering of thousands of witches and wizards in one place.
That was the real objective.
His gaze drifted toward the distant Quidditch pitch.
Far beneath the grass.
Array lines pulsed.
Like veins.
Like arteries.
Like something waiting for blood.
Theodore's smile slowly faded.
At almost the exact same moment, far away in the shadows beneath the stadium, Voldemort looked toward Hogwarts and smiled as well.
Neither could hear the other's thoughts.
Yet both had reached the same conclusion.
When the Quidditch Friendship Tournament began, the true battle would begin with it.
And this time, the entire magical world would be standing in the middle of the battlefield.
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