School Life and Quidditch

The atmosphere in the Slytherin common room was different this year. Toji, standing at the front, surveyed his housemates with a calm but commanding presence. His recent duel victories and growing influence meant no one dared challenge his authority anymore. The time had come to solidify his vision for the future of their house.

"Listen up, everyone," he began, his voice clear and steady. "We're going to change how things are done around here. From now on, Slytherin will no longer be the house that others look down on or fear for the wrong reasons. We're going to show this school that ambition doesn't mean stepping on others, but rather lifting ourselves to the highest possible standards."

A murmur spread through the room, but everyone was focused on him.

"First, we'll be friendly with the other houses. That means no more pointless rivalry or petty grudges. I don't care if someone's from Gryffindor or Hufflepuff—if they're worth your time, treat them with respect."

This was met with some grumbles, but Toji's gaze silenced them.

"Second," he continued, "we'll stop this nonsense about blood purity. Muggle-borns, half-bloods, pure-bloods—it doesn't matter. If someone's magical, they're one of us. Period."

There was a pause, but surprisingly little resistance. Many had already witnessed Toji's unmatched skills and charisma, and his words were spoken with a certainty that made them difficult to argue against.

"Third, we're going to work harder than any other house—both physically and magically. I want each of you to push yourselves to be the best in every subject. We're going to show the teachers that Slytherin represents ambition in the truest sense. We'll lead by example."

Some students exchanged glances, unsure but intrigued. Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione, seated together near the front, nodded in agreement.

"Lastly," Toji said, his voice firm, "we're going to dominate. In academics, in sports, and in life. We'll be the best in every field, and we'll do it without needing to cheat or undermine anyone. You want ambition? This is what it looks like."

By the time he finished, the room was buzzing with energy. Toji had just laid down a new foundation, and everyone knew it. The Slytherins now had a path forward, one that didn't rely on the old ways of resentment and fear.

Over the next few weeks, life at Hogwarts changed for the Slytherins. True to Toji's word, they became more amicable with students from other houses. Small gestures—friendly greetings, helping with assignments—started to make waves across the school. At first, some students were suspicious, but soon it became clear that the Slytherins were serious.

Meanwhile, physical training sessions had become part of the Slytherin routine. Every morning, Toji led groups of students in both magical exercises and physical workouts in the common room. It wasn't long before the entire house began showing improvements. Even the professors noticed the change: Slytherins were not only excelling academically but also showing discipline and determination in all their endeavors.

The real fun began when Gilderoy Lockhart, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had his first lesson. The students had heard plenty of rumors about his so-called exploits, but when they arrived in class, they were greeted by a flamboyant display of self-importance.

Lockhart spent the first half-hour recounting his "heroic" adventures with unnecessary flair, while most students exchanged knowing glances. Toji sat back, suppressing a smirk, waiting to see how far this would go.

It didn't take long for Lockhart's incompetence to surface. When he attempted to demonstrate how to handle a simple pixie infestation, chaos ensued. He couldn't control the creatures and, in the ensuing disaster, accidentally knocked over his desk, got tangled in his own robes, and nearly set his own hair on fire.

The entire class burst into laughter, unable to contain themselves any longer. Even Hermione, who typically defended the teachers, had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling.

By the time the lesson ended, the students exited the room, still laughing and trading impressions of Lockhart's "heroics." Word spread fast, and by dinner, nearly every student who had attended that class was giggling uncontrollably.

The staff at the Head Table exchanged confused glances during the meal, none more perplexed than Professor McGonagall, who leaned over to whisper to Professor Sprout, "What on earth has got into them?"

Even Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow as another burst of laughter erupted from the Gryffindor table. Toji, seated at Slytherin's end, saw the opportunity to have some fun. He discretely transfigured his silver fork into a sleek, elegant silver feline and sent it toward the Head Table.

The little silver cat padded across the room, causing some murmurs among the students. It reached the professors and transformed back into a fork, but not before whispering its message to Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, explaining the full details of Lockhart's disastrous lesson.

McGonagall's eyes widened, and she quickly stifled a laugh, while Flitwick had to cough into his napkin to contain his amusement. Dumbledore, catching the last bit of the message, smiled knowingly.

Toji then leaned back and gave the feline a second task: ask for a time-turner to be delivered to him, discreetly. He needed to find a way to attend multiple classes at once, not just for convenience but also to deepen his understanding of time manipulation. He felt an itch to master time magic, sensing the vast potential it could offer him.

A few days later, the first Quidditch match of the year arrived: Slytherin versus Hufflepuff. The pitch was alive with excitement, and Toji mounted his broom with the same casual confidence that had become his trademark. The other players eyed him warily, knowing full well that Harry Potter, with his extraordinary abilities, was no ordinary Seeker.

From the first whistle, Toji dominated the game. His speed and reflexes left the Hufflepuff players in a constant state of panic. He didn't just snatch the Quaffle from the opposition—he practically toyed with them, zooming around the pitch in maneuvers so sharp and sudden that even the Slytherin chasers stopped just to watch him work.

At one point, he stood up on his broom—balancing effortlessly as though gravity had no claim on him—and raised his hand to his forehead, pretending to search for the Snitch as if it were a leisurely stroll. The crowd gasped, and then, in a flash, he became a blur. Moments later, he reappeared at the far end of the pitch, the golden Snitch gleaming in his hand.

Slytherin's victory was as swift as it was inevitable, and the cheers from the stands were deafening. Scouts from the national Quidditch team, seated discreetly among the audience, took immediate interest in Toji's raw talent. But despite his prowess, Toji knew that for now, he was still too young to be recruited. Still, the idea of playing for England was now firmly planted in their minds.

Back in the common room that evening, the Slytherins celebrated their win with enthusiasm, but Toji had already shifted focus to the next goal. His mind was always working, always planning. There were many things to conquer—Quidditch was just one of them. As he relaxed in the chair by the fireplace, eyes half-closed, his thoughts drifted to magical rituals, time manipulation, and the next phase of his plans.

The next Day,

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter as students from all houses filled in for breakfast. Toji, better known to the rest of the world as Harry Potter, took his usual seat at the Slytherin table, surrounded by his close companions—Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey. The three girls, while engaged in conversation, couldn't help but cast occasional glances toward him, smiles playing on their lips. Toji, for his part, was casually enjoying his meal, his mind already buzzing with plans for the day.

Suddenly, the fluttering sound of wings filled the hall as hundreds of owls swooped down to deliver the morning mail. Toji paid it little mind at first, until a large barn owl landed in front of him, dropping not one but two items—a thick envelope sealed with the emblem of the British Ministry of Magic and a neatly folded copy of The Daily Prophet.

Curious murmurs rose from nearby students as they noticed the official-looking envelope, and Toji, ever calm, set aside his toast and reached for the newspaper first. As he unfolded it, a large headline caught his eye:

"Harry Potter, Seeker of Slytherin, Makes Waves: Potential Candidate for National Quidditch Team!"

Toji raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he read on. The article was filled with glowing praise, recounting the previous day's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. His stunts on the field—particularly his mid-air balancing act and his remarkable capture of the Snitch—had apparently caught the attention of several scouts for the national Quidditch team. The writer, clearly in awe, suggested that while Toji was still young, his raw talent and unprecedented skills placed him on the shortlist of potential substitutes for the national Seeker position.

The article ended with a line that made Toji chuckle: "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, may soon become Harry Potter, the Youngest Seeker to play for England."

"Looks like you're a celebrity again," Daphne said, leaning in to peek at the article, her voice dripping with amusement. "Quidditch scouts, huh?"

Hermione, who had been quietly reading over his shoulder, looked impressed but unsurprised. "You did pull off some remarkable moves yesterday."

Tracey nudged him playfully. "National team? That's no small deal, you know."

Toji shrugged nonchalantly, though the glint in his eyes revealed he was anything but indifferent. "Well, I suppose they need someone who can win them games," he said, with a wink that made the girls roll their eyes in fond exasperation.

Just as he finished the article, his attention shifted to the official-looking envelope still resting on the table. He ripped it open and pulled out the parchment inside, which bore the seal of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

The letter read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that your performance during the recent Quidditch match has garnered the attention of the National Quidditch Selection Committee. As a result, you have been added to the official list of potential candidates for the Seeker position on the England National Quidditch Team.

While you are still underage to participate in official matches, we would like to extend an invitation for you to attend training sessions and meet with the team's coaches. Your inclusion as a substitute player will depend on further evaluation, but we are highly impressed by your current abilities and believe you have the potential to represent your country in the near future.

Please contact us at your earliest convenience to discuss next steps.

Yours sincerely,

Eleanor Croft

Head of Quidditch Selection

Department of Magical Games and Sports

Toji read the letter over twice, letting the information sink in. There it was—official confirmation from the Ministry of Magic. He was being considered for the national Quidditch team. Even with his usual calm and self-assured demeanor, the significance of the moment wasn't lost on him.

"Well?" Hermione asked, watching him carefully.

Toji folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope, his smirk widening. "Looks like it's official," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm on the list."

A sudden hush fell over the nearby Slytherins, who had been pretending not to listen in but were clearly hanging on his every word. Word of the article had spread quickly, and now with the official letter in his possession, it was undeniable—Harry Potter, at barely thirteen years old, was being scouted for the national Quidditch team.

"Blimey, Harry, you're not kidding!" a third-year Slytherin exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "National team? That's—"

"Amazing!" another student chimed in, her voice full of awe.

Toji merely shrugged again, though he couldn't entirely hide the satisfaction in his grin. "Guess they liked what they saw," he said nonchalantly, but the pride was unmistakable in his tone.

The Great Hall, meanwhile, was alive with whispers. Word was spreading fast across the tables, and heads turned as students from other houses began to glance over toward the Slytherin table, eyes filled with awe and curiosity. Even the professors at the Head Table seemed to have taken notice. McGonagall was glancing toward him with her usual stern yet approving look, while Snape, seated beside her, appeared completely indifferent—but there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes as he spoke with Professor Sprout.

As the news rippled through the hall, Toji sat back, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He had always enjoyed playing Quidditch, but this new level of recognition was something else entirely. Fame and notoriety seemed to follow him wherever he went—first as the Boy Who Lived, now as a potential Quidditch star.

But Toji's mind was already spinning with ideas. This fame could be useful, a tool to build the influence he craved. And, of course, there was the satisfaction of knowing he was on the path to becoming the best at yet another thing.

"Harry Potter, the national Seeker," Daphne mused aloud, leaning back in her chair. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Toji grinned. "It's a start."

As breakfast went on, the attention on him grew. It seemed there was no escaping the limelight today. But Toji, ever adaptable, embraced it. Fame was just another tool at his disposal—and he intended to use it to its fullest potential.