Sensing Hermes's current state, Theodore couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face.
That lap Hermes had just flown—at that speed, with those metallic, blade-like feathers gleaming along his body and a beak as sharp as any sword… even a fire dragon in the skies would probably end up getting toyed with.
You could honestly call him the overlord of the air now.
And that was without Theodore even activating the first restriction yet.
Once the restriction was activated, this Iron-Beaked Divine Eagle—both a spiritual beast and a magic weapon—would truly show its fangs. Its speed would rocket to an unimaginable level.
Even with just a single restriction layer, this was already the fastest method of movement Theodore currently possessed.
He couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
"No wonder everyone in the Primordial World treated magic weapons like lifeblood."
"A cultivator who's originally not that strong only needs to get their hands on a good magic weapon to explode with jaw-dropping power."
"Magic weapons, restrictions… they really do contain unfathomable might. Iron-Beaked Divine Eagles weren't even particularly famous in the Investiture of the Gods—they barely showed up. And yet even a 'side character' weapon like this is already this strong. Imagine what those true great artifacts could do if they appeared here…"
Then Theodore sighed again, a little gloomier this time.
Magic weapons were great and all—but they were ridiculously resource-hungry.
The Iron-Beaked Divine Eagle Cultivation Method's demand for Feihu Pills was insane.
Just to get Hermes to complete the first restriction layer over these past two weeks, Theodore had burned through five top-grade Feihu Pills.
The pills he had left would probably only barely be enough to push Hermes to the second restriction.
And the further he went, the more resources each step would demand.
If he really wanted to raise Hermes into the kind of Iron-Beaked Divine Eagle that could peck deities to death… just thinking about the resource cost made Theodore's scalp go numb.
The gap was terrifying.
"Cultivation really is a resource black hole…"
"If I want to actually make a name for myself in the wizarding world, I need to move 'resource stockpiling and cultivation' from 'eventual plan' to 'immediate priority'."
With those thoughts swirling through his head, Theodore left the owlery.
High up on a tower nearby, Quirrell watched the owlery in silence, a cold, shadowy light flashing in his eyes.
These days, he'd been thinking constantly about how to get back at Theodore.
He knew he couldn't just attack and kill a student outright inside the castle.
He had come up with one plan, though: ever since he'd heard Theodore had joined the Quidditch team, he'd been considering placing a curse on Theodore's broom during a match. With a bit of luck, the boy would fall to his death.
But there was still some time before the first game.
Quirrell felt he needed to give Theodore a "small lesson" before that.
So over the past several days, he'd been quietly observing Theodore's movements.
And he'd discovered that Theodore went to the owlery almost every single day—and stayed there for quite a while each time.
Hermes, that owl of his, always drew attention too—whenever it delivered letters, it looked particularly strong and impressive.
Quirrell let out a low, cruel laugh.
"Looks like he really dotes on that owl. Raised it well, hasn't he?"
"If I kill it… he'll be absolutely crushed."
The more he thought about it, the wider his smile grew.
Sure, maybe he couldn't beat Theodore Ashbourne himself.
But could he lose to a single owl?
That night, Hogwarts was wrapped in silence.
Under the cover of a Disillusionment Charm, Quirrell's figure appeared outside the owlery.
There were no professors patrolling here, of course. Who on earth would expect someone to sneak into the owlery in the middle of the night?
Even the usual night-strolling students would never come here.
He could finally stop pretending—finally go all out.
As he thought of everything that had happened since he met Theodore—the endless bad luck, and especially those last two Dungbomb incidents—rage surged in Quirrell's chest, hot and wild.
He strode into the owlery.
Tonight, he was going to thoroughly torture Hermes… and then kill it.
He couldn't wait to see the look on Theodore's face tomorrow.
Quirrell moved past cage after cage until he finally found Hermes's spot.
Hermes opened his eyes at that moment and stared at him coldly.
Quirrell jumped at first, but recovered quickly.
"It's just an owl. What are you glaring at?"
"Like owner, like beast."
He raised his wand and pointed it straight at Hermes.
"Crucio!"
The cruel, twisted curse flew forward, dripping malice.
But the agonised screech Quirrell expected never came.
Hermes twisted aside almost lazily, dodging the Cruciatus like it was moving in slow motion. A beat later, it snapped open its wings and burst from the cage.
Its speed was so great it seemed to meld into the night itself, like a shard of darkness turned into a gale.
Quirrell spun around in frantic circles, trying to track Hermes's movements, but he simply couldn't keep up. All he could feel was the rush of wind getting closer and closer to him.
"Protego!"
If not for that Shield Charm, Hermes might've ripped a chunk of flesh clean off his face with the next strike.
The close call shocked Quirrell, and anger exploded in him.
"Damn owl! I will kill you tonight!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
A streak of green light, timed on sheer prediction, lanced across the room. Hermes dodged by a feather's breadth and dove in for another attack.
Its blade-like beak slammed against the Shield Charm, making the shimmering barrier ripple and shudder.
But Quirrell was finally showing some of his real strength.
With his wand dancing, Transfigurations and curses flashed across the owlery in precise, deadly sequences.
He filled the ceiling with conjured obstacles, layered spell-traps across the rafters, and used them to squeeze Hermes's flight range smaller and smaller.
No matter how Hermes tried to strike back, Quirrell blocked every attempt.
Bit by bit, the owl was forced into a corner.
Quirrell's lips curled into a vicious smile. Another Cruciatus shot out, skimming so close past Hermes that it nearly clipped a wing.
He sneered.
"Let's see how long you can keep dodging."
"Go on, call your master over. I'll kill him along with you."
But in that corner, with spells grazing past it and danger all around, Hermes didn't look panicked at all.
If anything, its eyes flashed with scorn—as if to say:
You want the master to come?
Remember—you said that.
The next moment, in the dormitory, Theodore's eyes snapped open.
Through the bond between them, he had clearly sensed the situation in the owlery.
Quirrell couldn't touch him—so he'd gone for Theodore's owl instead?
Theodore let out a low, cold laugh.
Quirrell had no idea.
Hermes wasn't just his owl.
He was a blood-refined magic weapon.
The weapon had just been forged—and needed a proper test.
What better whetstone than Quirrell?
Theodore pinched a spell seal for the Iron-Beaked Divine Eagle method. On Hermes's body, one of the blood-red lines flared to life.
The first restriction was activated.
At the same time, a sharp glint flashed through Theodore's eyes.
Ever since he'd gained Sword Arts Transcendent and Sword-Heart Illuminated from the Weasley twins, his swordsmanship had long since reached the level where he could use anything as a sword.
Hermes might not be a conventional flying sword—but it was fast, and it was razor sharp.
Why shouldn't he treat it as a flying sword?
Theodore pressed another spell seal and spoke in a low voice.
"Sword—come!"
With that single word, the entire owlery erupted.
Sword-qi roared to the heavens, bursting forth in a dazzling flare that seemed to spear straight into the sky above Hogwarts.
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