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[Hogwarts] Ch 78: Rare Re'em & Annoying Centaurs
🕑 Added 2025-07-02 17:41:00 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
After a hearty meal, Tom parted ways with the glutton trio, watching as they headed back to the castle.
He, on the other hand, dove deeper into the forest.
Since lunch had eaten up a good chunk of time, Tom cast a Feather-light Charm on himself and picked up the pace, practically flying over the ground.
He'd been to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest more times than he could count. By now, he had the whole area mapped out in his head—not just the paths, but also which creatures lived where.
First, he headed to the Mooncalves' territory to collect some of their droppings. He fed the big-eyed little cuties a bit while he was at it. Then he made his way to the Clabberts' area and gathered a few Pimples.
Finally, he tracked down a family of porcupines, knocked them all out cold, and plucked off their quills.
Lucky for Tom, his head of house happened to be a potions master—and from the way things were going, looked like he was planning to make Tom both his first and final disciple. The man never held anything back when teaching, which was why Tom's potion skills were advancing so fast.
If he had to rely on buying these potions? Good luck even finding them, let alone getting ones that were high-quality and safe.
After sweeping through the outer edge of the forest, Tom moved deeper into the Forbidden Forest.
There wasn't a clear line separating the outer and inner forest, more like a vague understanding. But the system let him know when he crossed over.
[You have entered the Forbidden Forest's Inner Zone. Achievement Points +20.]
That bump pushed Tom's total Achievement Points past the 900 mark.
He'd been pretty chill about it before, but now that he was only 100 points away from summoning another teacher, he was getting restless.
Andros was powerful and a good guy, no doubt about it—but the guy was ancient. There was a lot Tom just couldn't learn from him.
Take Apparition or Disapparition, for example. Those are super useful spells, but they were only invented during the witch-hunting era in the Middle Ages, as a way for wizards to escape. Andros, who lived way before that, could only mess around with them in theory. He was just a soul now, and even he admitted it felt weird trying to use those spells—definitely not in a place to teach them.
So Tom was really hoping the next teacher came from after the 15th century. By then, modern magic was already taking shape. If the system tossed him another ancient sorcerer… well, he'd probably have to do some reverse teaching just to catch up.
---
"Achoo!"
Back in the Study space, Andros suddenly sneezed as he lounged around flipping through The Daily Prophet.
---
Once in the inner forest, Tom slowed down.
Part of it was to map out the terrain, but mostly it was for safety.
Some magical creatures aren't scary alone—but get a bunch of them together and suddenly it's a different story.
Take Acromantulas, for instance. A single one? Most adult wizards could handle that. But a colony? With their insane breeding rate? If you ran into one, odds were good you were near a nest—and they could overwhelm you by sheer numbers.
Tom's goal today was to find a lone Acromantula. Ideally one that got separated from its group or was scouting ahead.
If he was unlucky enough to stumble into a full nest… well, it might be time to let Andros possess him and pull off a mini-genocide.
After walking for a while, he spotted a patch of wild nettle in the damp underbrush and began searching around it carefully.
Nettle was a favorite snack for many magical creatures. The fact that a large patch of it had obvious bite marks meant there were definitely smaller magical animals living nearby.
Sure enough, he soon found a hollow tree containing a nest of Glumbumbles—and his face lit up with excitement.
Glumbumbles were key ingredients for enhancement potions. Those potions temporarily boosted physical stats—perfect for giving yourself a power-up before a fight. Better strength, faster speed.
Speed's a no-brainer—just ask Pikachu. 'Dodge it!' says it all.
But strength was just as important for wizards. If magic couldn't settle the fight… well, there's always fists.
Wizards could go the budget route and just spam spells—or go full pay-to-win with enchantments and potions galore.
Down a cocktail of seven or eight buffs plus a bottle of Felix Felicis, and even a student might stand a chance against an Auror.
With a quick Stunning Spell, Tom knocked out the whole nest. He picked out about half—around twenty bugs, evenly split male and female.
He left the rest to breed for next time.
He also harvested a bit of nettle before heading deeper into the forest.
"Mrrhhh—!"
Suddenly, a strange low growl echoed from the northwest. It sounded a bit like a buffalo, but rougher—more vicious.
Tom followed the sound and came upon a small hollow. There, he spotted the source.
A massive, golden-furred beast was feasting—half a goat already devoured beneath it.
"A Re'em?"
Tom's eyes lit up with both shock and delight.
Shock because Re'ems usually lived in North America and the Far East. What was one doing here?
Delight because Re'ems were incredibly rare.
They were classified as XXXX-level magical beasts, but rarer than dragons. Whenever one showed up, magical hunters went wild.
Their blood had the power to greatly increase strength, no matter who drank it. Even though the Ministry of Magic had long banned hunting them, greed was a powerful thing. On the black market, Re'em blood sold for sky-high prices—and sold out instantly.
Tom stepped out into the open. As soon as the Re'em spotted him, it stopped eating and lowered its golden horns, pawing the ground nervously.
Tom spread his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot and making weird noises with his mouth.
It was an animal's way of issuing a challenge. Sure enough, the Re'em calmed down a bit, snorted, and the glow from its body intensified.
Tom tested the waters by tossing a Blasting Curse—his signal that the fight was on.
The spell hit its back and fizzled out instantly, only causing a slight twitch in its fur.
Tom wasn't surprised. That golden coat wasn't just for show—animals evolve for survival, not fashion.
The Re'em's fur was insanely tough. Even a three-headed dog couldn't match that level of defense.
Tom made a mental note: he wasn't just getting blood—he was definitely collecting some fur for a set of magical 'bulletproof' robes.
"Careful, Tom. This might be your toughest opponent yet," Andros said, his voice suddenly filled with interest.
He'd always thought Tom lacked real combat experience. Beating up students didn't count. This Re'em, though—with its strength and defense—wasn't something your average wizard could handle. Even a group of Aurors would struggle.
Andros wanted to see how far Tom had come after chugging so many strength-enhancing potions.
Sure, they'd sparred a few times in the learning space, but Tom could never tell how he really measured up—like a Bronze player trying to judge a Silver player in a game. Just not enough of a gap to see clearly.
"I know," Tom said, his expression growing serious.
The XXXX and XXXXX classifications weren't just about power—they reflected how dangerous and aggressive a creature was toward humans.
Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, was only a XXXX—but no one would dare say he was weak. He could even solo a basilisk.
While they were talking, the Re'em roared and charged forward. Every step shook the ground like a freight train barreling ahead.
Tom raised his wand and quickly chanted a spell. A shimmering path of ice spread out beneath him, smooth enough to reflect light.
The Re'em wasn't ready for the sudden change in terrain. Its hooves slipped, and its massive body crashed to the ground.
CRACK!
The ice shattered on impact, and the earth trembled beneath them.
Tom wasn't about to waste that opportunity.
"Glacius Vincula!" (Ice Chains!)
The broken shards of ice twisted and reformed into chains that wrapped around the Re'em's legs, yanking them apart and stopping it from getting back up. Cold-based spells were perfect out here—they didn't just save energy, they were stronger when used in the natural environment.
"Repulso Maxima!"
"Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"
"Confundo!"
The Re'em was trapped and helpless—a perfect target. Every spell Tom cast was not to kill it, just to knock it out.
He didn't need its life. He only wanted a bit of blood and some fur.
But the Re'em's glowing coat kept flickering brighter, neutralizing spell after spell. It tried again and again to get up, but the curses scrambled its movements—every time it rose, it collapsed right back down.
Its defense wasn't unlimited. That magical glow came at a cost—it was draining its strength and magical reserves.
After over a dozen spells, the glow began to dim. Its body trembled with exhaustion, and its struggling slowed.
Andros was watching it all with delight.
Tom's combat strategy was devious. No brute force, no ego. He used the terrain, magic, and timing to control the battlefield. That big dumb cow didn't even get a chance to use its raw strength before it was completely outmaneuvered.
Andros didn't see that as cheating—on the contrary, that was how a wizard should fight.
The difference between humans and beasts wasn't magic or strength. It was intelligence. The ability to think, to plan, to use tools.
But then, Andros' smile vanished.
"Watch out, Tom. Something's coming."
Tom froze. The Re'em struggled again, and in that moment of silence, he heard it too—rapid hoofbeats, approaching fast. The sound was getting louder.
No time to hesitate. Tom gritted his teeth and pressed the attack. He had to finish this quickly before the newcomer arrived.
"Stop!"
A furious shout rang out from above.
Tom didn't stop.
Instead, he raised his wand high and conjured a massive war hammer of ice, gripping the handle with both hands.
"Go to sleep!"
BOOM! WHISH! MROOAAHH!
A sharp arrow whizzed past Tom's head, missing by barely a meter. The ice hammer crashed down on the Re'em's skull with a heavy thud.
The magical beast gave one last pained cry, then collapsed with a ground-shaking thud, finally still.
Tom's eyes were cold. He glanced down, made sure the Re'em wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, then turned toward the direction the arrow had come from.
A centaur stood in the trees, bow drawn and arrow nocked, his bare, muscular human torso tense and ready to fire again.
Thanks to Andros' warning, Tom had known that first arrow wasn't aimed to kill—it was just a warning shot. That was the only reason he'd ignored it to finish the fight.
Didn't mean he wasn't pissed off.
A centaur. With a bow.
That's not okay.
"Drop your wand, poacher!" the centaur barked, drawing the string tighter, the arrow now aimed directly at Tom.
"Poacher?!" Tom's voice turned sharp as he raised one hand and conjured a swirl of gentle, blue flames—his own version of the Fire-Making Spell.
"Open your damn horse eyes and take a good look! This is a bloody Slytherin uniform!"
"How do I know that's not a disguise?" the centaur snapped. "If you're not a poacher, why were you attacking the Re'em?"
His bow stayed raised. His tone was hostile.
Tom didn't hold back anymore. "What the hell does what I do have to do with you, horse-face? Since when do Hogwarts students need your permission to walk into the Forbidden Forest?!"
"And who gave you the right to aim a weapon at me?!"
The centaur ignored the shouting, eyes scanning the surroundings. Once he was sure Tom was alone, he said coldly, "No matter who you are, step away from the Re'em and come with me. If I confirm you're really a Hogwarts foal, I'll escort you back to the castle."
Tom's patience snapped.
"If you can't understand words, I don't need to keep talking," he said flatly, raising his wand.
"Lightning strike!"
Dark clouds gathered above the centaur out of nowhere. A moment later, lightning cracked down like a divine hammer.
The centaur's eyes widened in shock. He flinched, accidentally loosing his arrow—but Tom didn't move.
Instead, he stood still as the arrow harmlessly pinged off the iron shield he conjured from the remains of the ice hammer. The centaur tried to flee—but how do you outrun lightning?
ZZZAP! ZZZAP! ZZZAP!
Multiple strikes hit him squarely. He twitched and dropped to the ground, completely fried.
Tom didn't flinch.
The potions he'd taken earlier were finally kicking in. He dashed forward—covering dozens of meters in seconds like a sprinting champion.
He stopped right over the convulsing centaur, eyes cold.
"So… which hand did you shoot that arrow with, huh?"
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