"Mr. Moriarty, Mr. Jericho—how dare you? And Miss Lilith! You'll break your neck!"
Professor McGonagall stormed across the lawn, her robes billowing behind her, looking particularly furious.
The three of them landed silently, avoiding her piercing gaze.
Professor Snape arrived just moments later, his expression dark and foreboding. His black eyes burned with anger as he strode up to them.
"Blanche, Piliwick, and Slytherin—thirty points deducted!" he snapped, his voice cold as steel.
But after a moment, he seemed to reassess the situation, glancing over Moriarty and Jericho. They were unharmed. His grip on his wand loosened slightly, and Professor McGonagall let out a small sigh of relief.
Yet, behind her stern exterior, there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—perhaps admiration.
"Although I'd rather not admit it," McGonagall murmured, "Mr. Moriarty just executed a Lansky Feint from a hundred feet in the air…"
Snape shot her a glance before whispering something in her ear. Then, with a sharp snort, he turned to Moriarty.
"Come with me, Mr. Slytherin. You too, Blanche."
He walked briskly towards the castle, and Moriarty and Jericho exchanged glances before following.
Lilith's heart leaped into her throat. She hesitated, then hurried after them.
"Professor Snape!" she called urgently. "They shouldn't be expelled! It was my fault! I told Moriarty to take me into the air—"
"Miss Piliwick," Snape cut her off sharply, turning on her with a glare. "You will write an essay on school regulations. No less than twenty inches. Due before our next Potions class. Now go."
Lilith met his gaze without flinching. Unlike most students, she wasn't afraid of him.
She knew the school rules well enough to write the essay with ease. But what worried her was Moriarty and Jericho's fate.
Professor McGonagall gave her a sympathetic glance. "Oh, don't fret, Miss Piliwick. They won't be expelled. But you Slytherins… you're certainly more difficult to deal with this year."
With that, she sighed and walked away.
Lilith stood there for a moment, watching Moriarty disappear into the castle.
---
Professor Snape led them through the dungeon corridors until they stopped outside a potions classroom.
With a sharp flick of his wrist, he pushed the door open.
"Romot! Come out. I've found a Chaser and a Seeker for you."
The door swung open wider, revealing William Romot, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He stepped forward, his sharp gaze landing on Moriarty and Jericho.
"Professor," he asked, his voice filled with curiosity, "is it them?"
Snape folded his arms, his expression unreadable. "Let's hear what our genius has to say." His tone was cold, but there was a subtle weight behind his words. "I exhausted a great deal of patience securing you a Seeker. If you fail to make use of him, Romot, do not say I did not warn you."
Moriarty observed Snape closely. Though the professor wouldn't admit it, Moriarty could tell—Snape had personally come out to ensure their safety.
Since he was the one who had caused this situation, Moriarty wasn't about to stand by idly.
"Professor Snape," Moriarty said smoothly, "I can brew you a batch of high-quality Brain Elixir. And, of course, a share for Prefect William here—to make up for your wasted time."
Snape fixed him with a penetrating stare, as if trying to see straight into his mind.
For a moment, Moriarty felt the intensity of those black eyes, almost like being pulled into the depths of a dark ocean. But then—Snape broke away, retreating behind his walls of Occlumency.
"No one will stop you from brewing a potion that even seventh-years struggle with," Snape said, his voice dry. "But you had best mind your tongue, lest your potion turns you into a troll-brained fool."
Without another word, he turned on his heel, entered the classroom, and slammed the door behind him.
Moriarty smirked slightly. He knew Snape had silently agreed.
William, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, clapped Moriarty on the back. "Don't mind Snape. He might act cold, but he cares about his students—particularly when they show potential."
"Come on," he gestured. "We'll talk as we walk."
---
As they made their way through the dungeons, William's excitement was obvious. "So, a Brain Elixir, huh? That's impressive. You're already making things that could help me get through my N.E.W.T.s."
Moriarty nodded. "It works, but don't rely on it too much. The first dose sharpens your mind noticeably. The second has a weaker effect. And by the third, you might as well be drinking boiled cabbage water."
William chuckled. "Smart advice. Still, if you can actually make it, I'll owe you one."
Then, his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "But tell me, what exactly did you do to make Snape break the rules for you?"
Jericho took that as his cue. Grinning, he launched into a detailed retelling of their stunt—how Moriarty had pulled off a Lansky Feint from a hundred feet in the air, how they executed world-class Quidditch maneuvers, and how Moriarty had controlled the school broom as if it were a Nimbus 2000.
By the end of the story, William was staring at them, utterly dumbfounded.
"Merlin's beard!" he finally blurted out. "No need for tryouts—you're in! You're the most qualified players I've ever seen!"
His astonishment only grew when he realized just how young Moriarty was.
"You're eleven?" William shook his head in disbelief. "I've always thought of you as an academic genius, but you're a born athlete too? We're not just talking about a first-year joining the team—we're talking about the youngest Seeker and Chaser in Slytherin's history!"
Jericho practically beamed. "No complaints here!"
But Moriarty, ever the strategist, remained composed. "We may have no objections, but others will. Breaking the rules is one thing. But letting two first-years join the team at once? We'll be under a lot of scrutiny—especially from within our own house. Marcus Flint, for instance, has been after a Chaser position for years."
William sighed. "You're right. A formal selection would've been the best way to handle this. But we don't have time—the match against Gryffindor is coming up fast." His expression hardened. "No matter. I'll handle it. If anyone has an issue, they can take it up with me."
Moriarty studied him for a moment, then gave a nod of approval. William wasn't just bold—he was a leader. No wonder he had led Slytherin to three consecutive Quidditch victories.
Before they parted, Moriarty added, "If anyone challenges your decision, tell us. We'll prove ourselves with skill."
William grinned. "Don't worry. By now, the entire school has probably heard about your hundred-foot dive. You won't have much trouble earning their respect."
Jericho frowned. "So they're only skeptical about me?"
William clapped him on the shoulder. "You remind me of Charlie Weasley when he first joined Gryffindor's team. People doubted him too—but he quickly shut them up. You'll do the same."
Then, turning to Moriarty, he added with a smirk, "And if you ever get recruited for the national team, remember to send me an autograph."
With that, they went their separate ways.
Jericho turned to Moriarty as they made their way toward the library. "It's still early—how about we do some research on Quidditch strategy?"
"Good idea. I'll also need to borrow a few Potions books," Moriarty said, his mind already filled with plans.
If he was going to brew the Brain Elixir, he'd need time. And the Room of Requirement—along with some help from Tonks—would make the process much smoother.
By the time they entered the library, the halls were quiet. But just as they stepped in, Moriarty caught sight of a familiar face—Penelope Clearwater, arms full of books.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
But then, she hurried past without a word.