The first day had ended with the silent spinning of webs in the library's shadows. But Icharus understood a fundamental truth: for the prey to be truly caught, the web itself needed to be strong, its strands reinforced with trust and social capital.
During dinner in the Great Hall, he put this into practice. He deliberately sought out Cedric Diggory, approaching him with the respectful demeanor of a first-year in need of guidance. "Senior Cedric," he began, "I was hoping you could explain the Seeker's role in more detail? The theory is fascinating, but I'd value your practical insight."
Cedric, ever the exemplar of Hufflepuff kindness, brightened and launched into an enthusiastic explanation. Seizing the opportunity, Cedric then introduced Icharus to some of his friends and classmates—older students who were figures of respect within the house. "This is Icharus; keep an eye on him, he's got a good head on his shoulders," Cedric said. They all offered warm smiles and an open invitation to come to them if he ever needed anything. The strand to Cedric and his circle was now strong and reliable. Later, he made a point of conversing with Rolf about the nesting habits of Hippogriffs, further solidifying that unique bond.
The next day brought Charms and Herbology with the Gryffindors. In the corridor before class, Icharus spotted Harry Potter looking slightly overwhelmed. He moved to his side. "Harry," he said softly, "everything alright? Settling in okay?" Harry's face broke into a grateful smile, touched by the concern from his former desk mate. "Yeah, thanks Icharus. It's... a lot." Meanwhile, Ron Weasley muttered under his breath, "Worthless Hufflepuff," his jealousy a petty, insignificant noise Icharus simply filed away.
In Professor Flitwick's Charms class, the task was the Wand-Lighting Charm. As expected, Hermione Granger's wand tip blazed with light first, earning a squeak of delight from the professor. Icharus, along with Harry, Justin, Ernie, and Dean Thomas, managed the spell successfully moments later. But where others stopped, Icharus advanced. He approached Hermione, his expression one of pure academic curiosity.
"That was brilliant, Hermione," he said. "Your pronunciation was so crisp. Did you find any particular wrist movement made the light brighter?"
Hermione, thrilled to be treated as a professor, eagerly launched into a detailed lecture on wand angles and syllable emphasis, which Icharus absorbed with a attentive nod. He wasn't just learning a charm; he was learning how to learn from her, turning the brightest witch of her age into an unwitting tutor.
The afternoon in Herbology was a lesson on Gillyweed. Professor Sprout explained its uses in potions, the specific soil composition for potting, and the protective spells needed for handling. While most students required her personal guidance to correctly pot the squirting plant, Icharus worked with silent, efficient precision, his hands steady. He completed the task without needing a single correction. Professor Sprout paused by his station, examined his perfectly potted Gillyweed, and gave a firm, satisfied nod.
"Excellent work, Mr. Rodrigus. A model of diligence. Ten points each to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for a class well-applied!"
As she moved on, a chime echoed in Icharus's mind, clear and triumphant.
[Task: Scholarly Acclaim - COMPLETE.]
[Rewards: 50 System Points. System Backpack (3-item capacity) - UNLOCKED.]
A wave of cold satisfaction washed over him. He had done it. McGonagall, Flitwick, and now Sprout. The points were trivial; the real prize was the small, extradimensional space now available to him. It was the ultimate tool for a thief.
That evening, his mind already raced ahead. With the System Points, his first purchase from a catalogue only he could see was a set of Automatic Copying Quills and a ream of endless parchment. His plan was taking a darker, more audacious turn. He needed the knowledge locked in the Restricted Section—the Imperius Curse, mental magics, and most urgently, the recipe for Polyjuice Potion.
A multi-layered scheme crystallized in his mind. During the Christmas holidays, he would create a public spectacle. Using the Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Hagrid, he would "leak" the secret of the Philosopher's Stone in the Leaky Cauldron. The resulting chaos would be the perfect smokescreen, drawing everyone's attention while he executed his heist for the darker texts.
But to do that, he needed the recipe from the Forbidden Section, the complex ingredients, and a sample of Hagrid's hair. The following weekend, he planned a visit to the gamekeeper's hut under the guise of a student fascinated with magical creatures, hoping to ask about the flora and fauna of the Forbidden Forest and, if the opportunity arose, steal a strand of hair from the half-giant's coat or furniture. Hagrid would simply assume he'd misplaced it.
Time passed. The first week drew to a close in a blur of tedious classes. Defence Against the Dark Arts was a farce with Quirrell's stuttering, and History of Magic became a private study hall where he secretly read about advanced rituals under the desk. Every free moment was spent gossiping and gathering intelligence, his conversations strategically revolving around Snape's movements, the Weasley twins' pranks, Harry Potter's schedule, and the Daily Prophet's ongoing coverage of the Gringotts theft, which always circled back to Harry's "incredible luck" in receiving a 10,000 Galleon reward.
The web was strengthening. The threads of information, influence, and opportunity were weaving together. Icharus Rodrigus was no longer just a student; he was a architect, patiently building the scaffolding for his ascent, one manipulated friendship and one stolen secret at a time.