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[Hogwarts] Ch 81: The Purpose of Patronus Charm
🕑 Added 2025-07-04 21:52:49 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
"The upcoming event is Christmas, not April Fools' Day, Mr. Riddle."
Snape's voice was calm, but the sarcasm was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
"Professor, I do know how to read a calendar."
Tom tilted his head slightly. "Professor, you don't honestly believe we're on joking terms now, do you?"
Snape's face darkened instantly.
'Merlin's beard, does that mouth of yours ever shut up?'
Tom, pretending not to notice the professor's expression, sighed dramatically. "You know, Professor, I'm only just realizing how lonely the path of learning magic really is. There's no clear benchmark, no standard to measure against. I've got no idea where I stand anymore."
"The students in our House... sure, they've got potential. But at this point, they can't even begin to measure up to me."
'Bloody hell, now you're even showing off?'
Snape's eye twitched at Tom's subtle bragging. He took a slow breath and said, "So that's why you've decided to make me your target?"
"Exactly," Tom replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You're my Head of House, aren't you? Isn't helping your students improve part of your job?"
'Unbelievable.'
"I'm sure you are happy to have a student as brilliant as me," Tom added cheerfully.
Snape's abilities were widely considered a dividing line in the magical world.
And Tom really just wanted to test himself.
At this point, there weren't many people in the wizarding world stronger than him. If you took Dumbledore and Voldemort out of the picture, someone like Moody—hailed as the strongest Auror—might be a bit stronger, but they were essentially on the same tier. Moody had more combat experience and perhaps a bit more magical power, but the gap wasn't massive.
Some of the top Death Eaters were on that level too.
Below that? You had your average elite Aurors—like Kingsley Shacklebolt. In a duel with Snape, Kingsley wouldn't stand a chance.
And anything below that? Just a bunch of cannon fodder.
Tom figured even people like Lupin and Sirius Black were just pretty representative—looked impressive on the surface, but honestly? Not that big of a deal.
Especially Sirius. He was all bark and no bite—looked fierce in a fight but was basically a paper tiger.
That's why Snape was the perfect benchmark for Tom. If he could earn Snape's recognition, he'd feel more confident taking some risks during the holiday break.
And if he surpassed Snape? Then against the majority of wizards out there, he could simply say, "Oh? Is that it? I was expecting a challenge."
After all, this time Tom's holiday plans wouldn't be exactly safe. He couldn't afford to rely solely on those brief bursts of heightened power.
"..."
Snape gave him a long, thoughtful look.
He was tempted.
This kid had defeated a seventh-year Perfect within his first month at Hogwarts. Now a full term had passed—how far had Riddle progressed?
Had he reached the level Snape was expecting?
Of course, in the end, none of that really mattered.
What mattered was... this was a perfect excuse to teach the brat a lesson.
'If I let this opportunity slip, am I even human?'
"I agree. Tonight—"
"Stop right there! What do you think you're doing?!"
Snape hadn't even finished his sentence when a sharp voice rang out from the stairs above.
It was Professor McGonagall, and she looked furious as she spotted a group of students scuffling. Her face turned bright red as she stormed over, shouting for order.
When she got a closer look, her mind nearly went blank.
Not because two of the fighting students were from her own House—no, it was because of Snape.
The fight had clearly been going on for a while, and the man just stood there a few steps away, chatting with a student instead of stepping in?!
Snape, for once, looked genuinely flustered. He'd been so caught up talking with Tom, trying to figure out whether the boy truly wanted a beating, that he completely forgot about Draco Malfoy.
Tom glanced over too. Malfoy wasn't looking great—his robes were torn, his face had a couple of scratches, and his usually perfect platinum-blond hair was a mess.
Still, he looked better than Harry and Ron.
To be fair, it had been two-on-three. Crabbe and Goyle's combined weight could easily crush both Harry and Ron together.
But the two Gryffindors were smart—they'd focused all their attacks on Malfoy, barely managing to turn the fight around.
"You're just in time, Minerva," Snape said smoothly, regaining his composure. "I was just about to intervene. I saw it clearly—it was Weasley who started it. Malfoy was just defending himself, and Crabbe and Goyle were helping a friend."
"It was Malfoy running his mouth!" Harry protested, adjusting his freshly repaired glasses. "Professor McGonagall, he insulted Ron's family. He said... Hagrid's hut was a palace in comparison!"
Ron's face turned crimson as he glared daggers at Malfoy.
McGonagall's sharp gaze turned to the boy in question. "Mr. Malfoy, is what Potter said true?"
Even with Snape standing right there, Malfoy didn't dare lie to McGonagall. He turned his head away and stayed silent.
"I see."
McGonagall took a deep breath. "It's nearly the holidays, and you still find a way to stir up trouble? Each of you—twenty points from your Houses. On top of your homework, you'll each write a 5,000-word essay reflecting on your actions. Turn it in after the break. And you're all getting two weeks of detention!"
McGonagall was an equal-opportunity punisher—she hit them with academic, disciplinary, and physical penalties all at once.
She didn't even bother asking for Snape's input. After issuing the punishment, she told them to go to the hospital wing.
With that, Harry and the others climbed the stairs in silence, throwing each other death stares.
Snape, meanwhile, was furious.
"This is all Riddle's fault."
If Tom hadn't stopped Snape earlier, this wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. Gryffindor was already dead last in points—losing more didn't matter.
But Slytherin? Slytherin still had a real shot at winning. Now they'd lost points for three people. A complete disaster.
And to top it all off, McGonagall—of all people—had stooped to dragging Slytherin down with her already-doomed House.
Snape shot Tom a murderous glare and hissed under his breath, "Midnight. Quidditch pitch. I've got more potions than I know what to do with. Don't show up, and you'll regret it."
With that, he stormed off, his robes billowing dramatically behind him like some oversized bat.
— — —
The Great Hall
The last dinner before the holidays was especially grand. The hall was fully decked out—holly and mistletoe draped along the walls, and twelve towering Christmas trees sparkled with crystal orbs at their peaks.
Students chatted excitedly, sharing their plans for the break. Even the professors at the high table wore cheerful smiles.
Tom noticed that Quirrell was missing. He'd planned to remind the man to send him some Christmas gifts.
Too late now—it looked like Quirrell had already left the school.
...
After the feast, the common rooms remained lively.
Tom, however, quietly slipped away, stretched a bit in the Room of Requirement, and made his way to the Quidditch pitch around 11:30.
At exactly midnight, Snape arrived.
Same old black robes, as usual, but this time, he looked completely different in Tom's eyes.
Snape radiated a fierce, almost cutting presence. His robes flared with the rippling pressure of magic, and a long, thin wand rested in his hand, angled toward the ground.
Tom could feel it.
The man really wanted to beat him up.
That aura—if you didn't know better, you'd think Snape was about to duel Dumbledore.
"Hmm?"
Speaking of Dumbledore, Tom glanced up at the tallest tower of the castle—the spot with the best view. Even though the Quidditch pitch was surrounded by high walls, that vantage point could easily overlook everything.
Smirking, Tom teased, "Professor, do you think... maybe Professor Dumbledore is our one and only audience tonight?"
Snape's voice drew out slowly, a bit cold: "Don't flatter yourself. He's already left the castle. No one's going to interrupt us. No one's going to come save you, either."
He raised his wand and made the traditional dueling gesture. "Let's not waste time. The sooner we start, the sooner I can get out of this freezing wind. As your professor, I'll give you the first move… you'll need it."
"How generous of you, Professor."
Tom bowed politely and raised his wand—at the exact moment a storm cloud appeared above and unleashed a sudden downpour of lightning.
It came out of nowhere, but Snape was a battle-hardened veteran. His body reacted before his brain even finished processing the threat, throwing up a magical shield just in time to block the strike.
He really wanted to yell at Tom for breaking dueling etiquette. But... hadn't Tom just completed the proper dueling motions?
Yes, he had.
He just happened to slip in a spell while performing them. Classic Slytherin move—bending the rules without technically breaking them.
After weathering the first attack, Snape twisted the stormy sky. The dark clouds above him shattered apart, transforming into black fire that howled down toward Tom.
"That kind of cheap trick won't work on me," Snape sneered.
Even in a fight, he couldn't help but mock him.
Tom Riddle looked like he was gonna get screwed by the Half-Blood Prince tonight.
"Relax, Professor. That was just my way of saying hello."
"Expecto Patronum!"
White light surged from beneath Tom's feet, surrounding him like a glowing beacon. The dark fire melted on contact with the light, like snow under the sun.
"...A Patronus?" Snape frowned. He wasn't entirely sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
"That spell can block dark magic?"
Snape's confusion was understandable. The true potential of the Patronus Charm had long been forgotten but this was Andros's domain.
In the modern magical world, the Patronus Charm was mainly known as a counter for Dementors and Lethifolds. It was famous for two reasons: Dementors were terrifying, and the spell itself was notoriously hard to learn.
Mastering it before graduation was a big deal—it usually earned you extra credit in exams.
But Dementors didn't even appear to the public until Azkaban came around in the 15th century. That's just a few hundred years ago.
Meanwhile, the Patronus Charm had existed for thousands of years. Andros the Invincible had built his legendary reputation on it.
You think it only had one function?
The truth was, back in ancient times, before there were dozens of specialized counter-curses and protection spells, the Patronus served as a kind of universal defense against dark magic. Its pure, radiant energy could repel even the most sinister spells.
But over time, as magic evolved—and because the spell was so damn hard—people stopped using it that way. The more advanced applications were lost to history.
Let's be honest, casting a Patronus is already insanely difficult. Now try leveling it up?
Yeah, good luck with that.
---
"Go." Tom raised his wand.
The remaining black smoke suddenly hardened, reshaping itself into countless sharp daggers.
"...Hmm!"
With a flick of his wand, Snape transfigured the ground into a thick suit of armor that clanged loudly as the daggers bounced off it.
Tom made his move, surrounding Snape in a ring of fire. From within the flames, two fiery serpents slithered out and lunged at him.
Snape countered instantly, blasting them into smoke with a single, sharp spell. His black robes billowed as he leapt backward, moving with the eerie agility of a giant bat. With a few precise steps, he escaped the flaming circle completely.
"Professor," Tom called out, "could you teach me that spell?"
"If you beat me, maybe I'll consider it." Snape's face stayed neutral, but inside? He was practically grinning like a schoolboy.
"This kid... just keeps surprising me."
Transfiguring something made of raw magical fire was already difficult. But Tom didn't just transform something—he'd reshaped Snape's own dark fire (that became black smoke upon touching the Patronus).
That level of control? Snape had only ever seen it from Dumbledore and McGonagall.
He might be able to pull it off himself, but in a real fight, it would be too risky. Not something you'd try unless you were desperate.
"Who taught you Transfiguration?" Snape couldn't hold back the question anymore.
He was starting to suspect Dumbledore had been secretly tutoring the boy.
"A teacher," Tom answered honestly. Andros was a teacher, after all. He'd even taught Tom how to change the form of a Patronus—so his skill in Transfiguration was pretty much top tier.
Right now, Transfiguration was easily Tom's strongest suit. Everything else still lagged behind.
"Forget it," Snape muttered, clearly annoyed. "Let's see what else you've got."
He swung his wand. Two invisible blades formed in the air and shot forward.
Tom raised an eyebrow, calmly conjured a wall of water, and sent it surging forward. Suddenly, two deep gashes split the water, carving holes straight through it.
Tom instantly reinforced those two weak points, and with a clang the blades shattered on impact.
"Professor, I want to learn that one too."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake! Fine! Take them all! You little gremlin!"
Snape was now sure—Tom wasn't just playing around. He was good enough to go toe-to-toe with him.
Snape hadn't felt this fired up in years. His long-buried passion for dueling started to bubble up again, and his magic surged even more fiercely.
Even though he was stronger than Tom, Snape didn't rely on dangerous spells. He used pure technique, turning the duel into a showcase of skill—effortless, precise, and controlled.
Tom couldn't find a worthy opponent—and neither could he.
Dueling Dumbledore? That'd be suicide.
Asking other professors? Socially awkward and not really worth it.
As for the Death Eaters, all the real fighters were locked up. The ones still loose? Useless scum.
Who would've thought—a first-year student would become his best opponent?
Snape stopped holding back completely. With a sharp motion, one of the Quidditch goalposts flew into the air.
Under his control, it morphed into a massive flaming javelin, which he hurled straight at Tom.
Tom's expression finally cracked.
"YOU CRAZY BAT!"
"ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!"
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