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[Hogwarts] Ch 110: Philosopher's Stone
🕑 Added 2025-07-29 14:35:47 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
At the far end of the third-floor corridor, the furious growls of the three-head dog, Fluffy, gradually quieted.
With Tom's enhanced state after entering the Turbo Mode, plus the added speed boost from Snape's Potions, Fluffy's attacks couldn't even come close to landing a hit on him. In fact, Fluffy ended up injuring himself thanks to Tom's traps.
Tom wasn't just dodging; he was striking back too. He focused his attacks on Fluffy's weak points: the belly and the joints.
Sure, the nose was also vulnerable, but it was too close to those snapping jaws so yeah too risky.
...
After getting smacked around a few times, Fluffy started learning. He curled into a tight ball and spun slowly, making sure at least one head was always facing Tom, ready to react instantly. As a result, Tom's attacks began to lose effectiveness.
But Tom had no intention of letting this drag on.
The moment he realized that targeting weak spots wouldn't end the fight fast enough, he switched tactics.
Kicking off a wall, he launched himself onto Fluffy's back, then dashed across to the leftmost head and started hammering it with ruthless efficiency.
The three heads shared senses—pain for one was pain for all. But the sheer size of each head and the thickness of their necks made it hard for the other two heads to reach Tom. Plus, the narrow hallway limited their ability to whip around and toss him off.
So.... Tom focused all his punches on a single spot. One strike after another, until finally, the left head blacked out.
He could've ended this faster—just gouge out all six of Fluffy's eyes. But Tom, in his calm, calculated mindset, knew that would only piss off Dumbledore. His goal wasn't to kill the dog. Just beat it.
Knocking out one head at a time wouldn't cause lasting harm and would still complete the trial. It was the smartest route.
"You, next!"
With the left head unconscious, Tom moved to the right. He noticed it was slower than the middle one—just like the left.
"..Aww..."
Thanks to the previous experience (and maybe because Fluffy had already taken quite a beating), the right head passed out even quicker than the first.
Only the middle head remained.
"Whine... whine…"
Before Tom could even raise a fist, the middle head whined and pressed itself flat to the ground. The message was clear: 'Don't hit me. I give up.'
And just like that, the third sign in Tom's mind lit up—trial complete.
With Fluffy submitting, the challenge was over.
As the reward kicked in, Tom—still in Turbo Mode—felt his skin toughen with a new layer of resilience. A faint flow of magic ran just beneath the surface, ready to buffer incoming damage. His bones strengthened, too, bringing an overall boost to his physical stats.
[Reward: The Freak Body Trait (Greatly boosts physical defense. Consumes magic power to enhance resistance further.)]
For a moment, the thought crossed his mind: 'Am I turning into a berserker?'
He then shook his head.
"You stay here and keep watch. I'm going down to help someone. No one's allowed in, got it?"
Fluffy, fully cowed, all three heads nodded in frantic unison before awkwardly shuffling aside to reveal the trapdoor—like a good puppy.
Tom didn't waste a second. He jumped down and cast a Feather-light Charm midair, floating down like a feather. He landed softly on something that felt… plant-like.
As soon as he touched down, tendrils whipped up like snakes and wrapped around his ankles.
"Incendio Maxima."
A burst of flames lit up the whole room, revealing the twisted vines for what they truly were: Devil's Snare.
It hated light and heat. Instantly, the vines recoiled, slithering away and curling up in a corner, leaving a clear path forward—a single stone corridor leading into darkness.
Tom walked in, not to save Harry, but to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone.
Once Tom saw how his potion worked on Astoria, he realized what she was lacking: vitality. And that's exactly what the Philosopher's Stone could provide.
He figured Dumbledore was probably back by now, watching Harry, waiting for him to complete his part of the trial. But that didn't mean Tom couldn't step in and flip the board.
If he got his hands on the stone, he'd have bargaining power. A reason to meet Flamel.
Truth was, neither Dumbledore nor Flamel cared that much about the stone anymore—as long as it didn't fall into Voldemort's hands, they weren't too concerned about who ended up with it.
That was the conclusion Tom reached in his Turbo Mode clarity.
But when he stepped into the next room, the mode faded—and normal Tom returned.
Well, not exactly normal. The Booster Potion still coursed through him—boosting his strength and speed.
"Damn Winged Keys!"
Everything in this room really annoyed Tom.
Flitwick's obstacle had filled it with glittering, jewel-like birds fluttering all around, chirping non-stop, driving Tom up the wall.
A glowing red orb rose above his head. Then came the spell—massive beams of raw magical force swept through the room, crisscrossing in every direction, obliterating everything in sight.
The annoying bird sounds vanished in a blink—along with the broomsticks hidden in the corners... and most of the room itself. The dividing wall crumbled. The two rooms became one. Without the birds' glow, the whole space turned dim.
When Tom stepped into what was once the next room, it lit up instantly—revealing a massive chessboard.
White pieces stood opposite him. Black pieces were at his side. In a corner of the board, Ron lay unconscious.
Tom noticed one of the black pieces was missing—this puzzle scaled based on the number of people entering. He remembered that originally, there were three missing spots for the trio.
Anyway, Tom wasn't in the mood for chess.
With a wave, he cast a spell that split the floor apart. The entire chessboard flipped over, crushing every piece before they could even fully animate.
If Professor McGonagall saw this, she'd cry.
So brutal. So uncivilized.
She'd spent ages designing that board—her finest work in Transfiguration to date—and it had been smashed by Tom Riddle.
And just to be sure no piece would get back up, Tom crushed the rubble into dust, rolling it over and over until all traces of the chess set were gone.
Then he moved on.
The next room held a massive troll sprawled on the floor, a fresh, bloody lump on its head. Quirinus Quirrell's obstacle was solved.
The door to the final room, Snape's obstacle, was already open.
As Tom stepped through, twin flames flared up behind and ahead of him—purple and black walls of fire.
"Finite Incantatem."
Golden light surged from the ground, spreading in an instant and swallowing up the two walls of flame. As the fire faded away, Tom stepped calmly into the chamber.
---
"Master! I can't hold him—my hand! My hand! Let go of me, Potter!"
When Tom entered the chamber, Harry was wrestling with Quirrell. Quirrell's face and hands were covered in nasty, bubbling blisters, and Harry didn't look any better—his head looked like it was about to split in half from the pain.
"You again?!"
Quirrell's turban was already off. From the back of his head, the twisted, agonized face of Voldemort stared straight at Tom as he emerged from the corridor.
At Voldemort's shout, Harry instinctively glanced toward the doorway, momentarily distracted.
That one second was all it took.
Quirrell broke free and yanked out his wand, aiming directly at Harry and firing off a deadly curse.
Tom easily dodged the curse then—
"Accio Harry!"
Harry's body shot across the room—straight into Tom's arms—thanks to the Summoning Charm. The moment the danger passed, the adrenaline that had kept Harry going gave out. His body went limp, and he slumped into Tom's arms, completely unconscious.
"Tom Riddle!" Quirrell roared furiously.
"Silence, fool! Let me speak to him!"
Quirrell obediently turned his head around, allowing Voldemort to face Tom directly.
"Riddle," Voldemort hissed, "I am the Dark Lord. The one they call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Surely, you know who I am."
Tom gave a casual nod. "Yeah, I know you. The dark wizard who got killed by a baby. Thanks to you, Harry Potter became famous."
Voldemort: "..."
"Shall we talk?" Voldemort offered smoothly.
"Talk about what?" Tom tilted his head, playing along.
Voldemort's blood-red eyes gleamed with a sinister light. "Don't tell me you've forgotten your agreement with Quirrell? We said we'd share the Philosopher's Stone. If you give me the Stone from Harry's pocket, you'll gain endless wealth and eternal life—just like Nicolas Flamel."
"And more than that," Voldemort continued, "I'll share my power and my glory with you. You're incredibly gifted, Tom, but Dumbledore holds you back. He refuses to teach you advanced magic, doesn't he? Tell me—have you even been allowed into the Restricted Section?"
"I'll bet not. He's afraid of you. Just like he was afraid of me."
"But I'm not afraid. I am the strongest. And I'm willing to share that strength with you."
"Master..." Quirrell's breathing had grown fast and shallow. For a second, he seemed to believe Voldemort's offer.
But Voldemort never looked away from Tom. He was waiting—hoping—for his yes.
Tom suddenly grinned.
"You know, Volde... You're the one pointing fingers when you're the one who broke the deal first. You and Quirrell were the ones who went behind my back. We agreed to take the Stone together—so why'd you sneak in here alone?"
He flipped the gleaming red Stone out of Harry's pocket and held it up. Voldemort's snake-like nostrils flared, and his crimson eyes were practically glowing with greed.
The Philosopher's Stone!
One more step. Just one more step and he could come back to life—stronger than ever. Even Dumbledore wouldn't be able to stop him.
"Tom," Voldemort said softly, struggling to stay composed. "I understand your ambition. We're both Slytherins. Exceptional Slytherins. But you're still young."
"So what if you have the Stone? Do you even know alchemy? Do you know how to brew the Elixir of Life?"
"Treasure and gold aren't what matter most. You know what you're really lacking?"
"What's that?" Tom asked, curious.
Voldemort spread Quirrell's arms wide, his back oddly twisted in Tom's direction.
"You need a mentor. A true, powerful teacher—a guide."
"Dumbledore never taught me anything truly useful. He feared my potential. I had to spend twenty years wandering after graduation before I finally transformed into the greatest wizard the world had ever seen."
"Give me the Stone, Tom. Let me be your teacher. I'll make sure you never waste a single moment of your life."
Tom nearly laughed out loud.
Money? Time? Even a girlfriend—sure, he needed those.
But a teacher? No way.
He already had two: one light, one dark. And more were bound to come in the future.
What was Voldemort compared to them?
Tom twirled his wand casually, raising it with a flourish.
"Didn't I beat the crap out of you last time in the Forbidden Forest?" he said coldly. "Why would I take a loser like you as my teacher?"
"Besides, you hold a grudge. I bet the first thing you'd do after coming back is kill me."
Voldemort's expression darkened instantly. "You knew it was me?"
"Who else? You're the most suspicious guy in the whole school. What, was I supposed to think it was Snape?"
Hearing Snape's name, even unconscious Harry furrowed his brow.
"Very well..." Voldemort's voice was trembling with rage. "Since you've made your choice—"
"Then I'll kill you here and now!"
Voldemort spun around and fired off a powerful curse he'd clearly prepared in advance.
Tom dodged nimbly to the side. Sure, his skin was tougher now thanks to his newly unlocked trait, but he wasn't dumb enough to test how much damage he could take just yet.
SMACK!
Under Quirrell's horrified stare, Tom launched the unconscious Harry at him like a human missile.
"Taste my signature move: The Unstoppable Harry Headbutt Rocket!"
.
.
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