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[Hogwarts] Ch 109: The Forbidden Corridor on The Third Floor
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 16:35:03 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
Classes had stopped a week before exams began. It was time for cramming.
Finals weren't just about practical spells; there was a hefty amount of written theory too. It was like a high school student being forced to do elementary-level worksheets—you couldn't just get the right answer. You had to solve things the way the teacher wanted.
That part gave Tom a real headache. He never cared much about showing work or following the 'proper' method. In the end, he had no choice but to turn to Hermione for help.
For once, Hermione got to play teacher—and she absolutely loved it. Every day, she dragged Tom into review sessions, completely hyped to tutor him like she was living out a dream.
Tom wasn't the type to suffer alone, of course.
He roped Daphne in too. And just like that, both of them were stuck in Hermione's academic torture chamber. By the end of the week, Daphne had been mad at Tom more times than in the entire semester combined.
The mood in the castle grew more tense by the day. Several students had already had full-on mental breakdowns and ended up in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had to pour entire bottles of calming draughts down their throats just to get them stable.
Most of those cases were fifth and seventh years—OWLs and NEWTs were no joke.
The rest of the students weren't as stressed, but even so, the library was packed. You could even hear kids walking the halls at top speed, whispering incantations under their breath as they crammed.
...
Then, on the final day before exams, Tom received a letter from Newt.
The old man's joy practically jumped off the page. He was thrilled to hear that Tom had tamed a unicorn, and even more excited about his research findings. Newt invited him to New York for a face-to-face chat and said he'd even pay for the round-trip flight.
Tom didn't reply right away. He wasn't sure if he'd have time to go to New York — or if it was even necessary. Better to wait until after the third trial was over. Depending on what came next, he'd decide then.
He folded up the letter and shoved it away, finished breakfast in a few bites, then went right back to studying.
---
The next day, exams began.
First-year exams weren't too hard, but they were incredibly tedious. Tons of questions with pointlessly long answers... and most of them completely useless.
Tom hadn't done this much handwriting in ages—he usually used magic to control his quill.
By the end of the written exams, his hand was sore.
The practical part was easier. Professor McGonagall had them turn a mouse into a snuffbox—an early test of transfiguring living things. Since it was a living-to-nonliving transformation, it was one of the easier categories.
The harder versions included turning inanimate objects into living creatures—or transforming one living thing into another entirely.
Tom pulled it off without much trouble. McGonagall kept her face neutral, as usual, but just before he left, he caught the tiniest flicker of a smile at the corner of her lips.
..
Professor Flitwick's test was even more fun: get a pear to tap-dance across a table.
Tom decided to go full flair. He turned a cherry into a basketball, made the pear dribble it while singing and dancing across the desk, and finished with a dramatic slam dunk.
Flitwick's eyebrows practically flew off his face with joy.
"That was brilliant! What was that move called, Mr. Riddle?"
"Oh, that? It's something popular in the Muggle world—basketball. Lots of people can play, but ones who can play and sing-dance at the same time? Now that's rare."
"Haha! What a spell! I don't even need to wait—you've passed."
..
In Potions class, Snape picked the most difficult potion first-years had learned: the Forgetfulness Potion.
Neville looked like a deer in headlights. The moment Snape announced it, Neville felt like he'd already drunk the damn potion—he couldn't remember anything except the name.
Under Snape's cold, judging glare, Neville's hands shook as he tossed random ingredients into the cauldron.
Snape sneered. "If that turns into a Forgetfulness Potion, I'll eat a Flobberworm upside-down."
He didn't bother watching Neville anymore, turning his attention to pressure Harry instead.
Tom finished a full thirty minutes early. Snape didn't even glance at his cauldron—he just pointed to the door and told him to leave.
..
Finally, with the last History of Magic exam turned in, the entire student body erupted in cheers. They were free—an entire week off before grades came out, followed by the end-of-year feast and a long two-and-a-half-month summer break.
Tom, Hermione, and Daphne joined the flood of students heading out into the sunlit grounds.
A few quick steps brought them to the Black Lake, where with a casual wave of his hand, Tom summoned a prepped celebratory lunch—courtesy of Pala.
He created a picnic cloth, spread everything out neatly, and picked a nice spot to settle in.
"Ugh... I think I messed up that 675 question about the wizard who summoned a bison to scare Muggles."
"Lee Bessgard, that was easy.... my problem is the 66 question!" Hermione muttered, still brooding.
"Yeah... I definitely messed it up."
Tom just shrugged. He wasn't about to join Hermione in agonizing over answer sheets. Sure, she had mellowed a little since the beginning of the year—but when it came to grades, she was still Hermione.
Honestly, who the hell double-checks answers after the exam? That's just asking to be miserable.
Daphne didn't bother comforting her either. She was too busy staring at the giant squid lounging in the lake, its tentacles lazily reaching toward the shore.
"Hey Tom, you think the squid's tentacles are edible?" she suddenly asked.
"Uh... I dunno. We could try sometime—let Zabini and Rosier taste-test first. If they're still breathing, we'll dig in."
"Genius! I heard giant squid tentacles grow back, so if it is edible, that's an unlimited food source right there."
Hermione, still mentally replaying her answers, couldn't help but crack a smile at the ridiculous conversation. She took a sip of her soup, let out a small sigh, and let it go.
Tom and Daphne shared a knowing glance.
They'd gotten really good at distracting Hermione when she got like this.
They spent the afternoon soaking up the sun.
Around four, they headed back toward the castle. A snowy owl soared overhead, gliding through the clear blue sky. Tom looked up, watched it disappear into the Headmaster's office, and smiled.
Then his gaze drifted toward Hagrid's hut—just in time to see Harry and Ron sneaking inside like two kids on a mission.
...
Back in the Slytherin common room, a party had already started.
Everyone was celebrating. Slytherin's win of the House Cup was practically guaranteed. With a whopping 500 points, even if Gryffindor or Ravenclaw got a big bonus at the end, they still didn't stand a chance.
Seven consecutive championship wins—a record-breaking feat in Hogwarts history. The seventh-year students who had just finished their NEWTs were all beaming with joy. Their school life had been flawless, year after year topping the charts with the best scores imaginable.
When Tom and Daphne showed up, a bunch of students immediately offered them snacks and sweets, inviting them to join the celebration.
Truth be told, not everyone in Slytherin liked Tom. The pureblood prejudice didn't just vanish after a few fights or achievements—but nobody dared show any open hostility.
That's the Slytherin way. You can look down on someone all you want, but if you know messing with them will only bring trouble, you'd have to be an idiot to poke the bear.
Guys like Malfoy, who acted on impulse, were actually the minority.
"Thanks!"
Tom didn't turn down their kindness. He accepted a few candies and snacks, casually listening to the older students gossip about ridiculous drama—like which girl had suddenly decided to transfer to another school and why.
---
Meanwhile, across campus, some wandering students suddenly spotted a face they hadn't seen in over a month.
"Professor Quirrell?"
Quirrell smiled and nodded at the stunned students. "Left in a bit of a rush last time—forgot a few personal items. I'm just here to collect what's mine and clear out for the next Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Nobody questioned his explanation. It sounded perfectly reasonable.
That is, until dinner time rolled around.
While most students were heading to the Great Hall, Quirrell slipped through the hallways, unlocking his office with a quiet charm and heading straight for the forbidden corridor on the Third floor.
Later that night, three students were sneaking around in the same corridor, looking suspicious as hell.
"Harry… are we really going in?" Neville swallowed hard, visibly sweating. "Even if we somehow manage to get past Snape, how are we supposed to deal with that three-headed dog guarding the door?"
"Trust me," Harry said firmly. "I've got a way to deal with it. Hagrid told me the trick himself. Neville, today's your big moment."
"I'll… I'll try," Neville muttered, giving a stiff nod.
— — —
When Tom walked in and took one look at the scene, even he was stunned for a second.
Neville was croaking out a tuneless song, his voice hoarse and painful to hear. Meanwhile, the three-headed dog was fast asleep, snoring peacefully beside an open trapdoor.
"…Neville, what are you doing?" Tom asked, confused.
"The dog's asleep, right?" he added. "So why are you still singing? If you're worried about it waking up, wouldn't it make more sense to just start singing again if it does?"
Neville's singing stopped immediately.
His face fell like he'd just been struck by lightning.
How did I not think of that?
He'd just been standing there, awkwardly singing the whole time… waiting for Harry and Ron to come back.
Wait—Harry and Ron!
Neville rushed to Tom's side, wildly gesturing and whispering to explain the situation.
Tom nodded. "Got it. So… Snape's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and Potter and Weasley went to stop him, right?"
Neville nodded so hard it looked like his neck might snap.
"Then go get a professor—quick. I'll stay here and watch the dog. I'll make sure it doesn't wake up."
Even though Tom was a Slytherin, Neville had always had a good impression of him, especially after that whole wand incident. The idea that Tom might be working with Snape never even crossed his mind.
Besides, he still remembered how Tom had floored the three-headed dog with a single spell last time. Compared to that, he definitely wasn't cut out for fighting. Running errands? Now that, he could do.
So without hesitation, Neville turned and bolted to get help.
He did, however, forget one important thing…
Harry had learned how to deal with the three-headed dog from Hagrid.
But how did Tom know?
Now, only Tom and the monstrous dog remained in the room.
Tom casually strolled forward.
SMACK!
He slapped the middle head right across the snout, then focused on the third sign in his space domain.
Nothing.
No reaction at all.
Tom scowled. He followed up with a few more punches and kicks, but still—nothing. The sign remained still.
He sighed.
So I really can't cheat my way through this, huh?
Figures. Beating the dog into unconsciousness clearly wasn't the same as actually defeating it. At best, it counted as putting it to sleep. And this thing wasn't dead—it was just napping.
👁️👁️ 👁️👁️ 👁️👁️
Six droopy eyelids fluttered open. The dog stared at the small wizard sipping potions in front of it, clearly confused at first—
But then the memories came flooding back.
Him!
The one who beat the hell out of it last time!
And—wait—he wasn't holding that little wand!
At first, the dog flinched in fear.
Then, slowly, it grinned.
So this little brat thinks he can take me barehanded?
Haha~ It's fluffy time.
...
Tom finished chugging his potions and cracked a grin of his own.
All three of the dog's heads grinned back menacingly.
"Oh, time to beat the dog!"
And with that, Tom stomped hard on the dog's paw.
His strength, already bolstered by fire dragon blood and body-enhancing potions, now surged even further thanks to a fresh burst of combat elixirs. He'd gone toe-to-hoof with unicorns before—and neither Blaze nor Storm could best him.
But this wasn't a unicorn.
This was a three-headed beast bred for combat. Tough skin, massive strength, and the endurance of a mountain.
If Tom wanted to win barehanded, he'd have to fight dirty.
As soon as the system flagged that he'd entered the trial zone, Tom didn't hesitate—he struck first.
To a dog, a hit to the toes is pain like no other. And this… this is where humans are worse than dogs.
The beast—Fluffy—howled in agony, rearing back before slamming one of its massive paws toward Tom like a flyswatter.
Thanks to an agility potion, Tom easily ducked the blow and countered with a solid punch to the belly.
Fluffy barely flinched. Like it was nothing, it lunged with gaping jaws to bite back.
In the cramped room, Tom darted and weaved, using the terrain to his advantage. But with three heads and six eyes, Fluffy's field of vision was insane. No matter how clever Tom's positioning was, it was like the dog had a built-in cheat—total vision hack.
"Oh, so you wanna cheat, huh?" Tom narrowed his eyes.
Fine then—two can play at that game.
He activated his Turbo mode.
This wasn't magic—it was pure talent.
In an instant, time seemed to slow around him. The fury from the combat potions was suppressed by the calm clarity of the turbo mode. Tom's mind sharpened like a blade.
He began calculating.
How to take down Fluffy with the least effort… and the most impact.
---
Meanwhile, in a room engulfed by blue flames…
Harry stared in horror at the seven weirdly shaped bottles sitting on the table, next to a long puzzle scribbled on a parchment scroll.
He recognized every single word on the paper—but put together, they made no damn sense.
Suddenly, a memory hit him like a Bludger to the head—his first Potions class.
Snape sneering at him, suggesting he might need remedial English.
"That evil, evil man… This whole puzzle was probably his idea."
At that moment, Harry knew he was doomed.
It was basically a security system designed specifically to keep him out.
The Ultimate anti-Harry security system.
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