Coreal
patreon
[Hogwarts] Ch 65: First Adventure
🕑 Added 2025-06-24 16:20:18 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
It was a clear night, the moon shining brightly with barely any clouds to block its light. That faint glow gently illuminated a winding path through the trees.
A cluster of fireflies drifted past Tom. He didn't disturb them. These weren't ordinary fireflies—they were Forbidden Forest's Fireflies, magical creatures that, upon death, would release all their stored heat at once, creating a burst of terrifyingly high temperatures.
The Forbidden Forest, as Fred and George had warned, was no joke. It wasn't just full of magical creatures and enchanted plants—there were even intelligent races, like the centaur colony.
Still, the school wasn't reckless enough to just leave a deathtrap like this totally open. The Forbidden Forest was actually split into two zones: the inner area and the outer edge.
The inner forest was technically part of Hogwarts grounds. Most of the really dangerous creatures had been driven out—or left on their own—and now lived further out.
The outer forest, on the other hand, was what the students usually meant when they said "Forbidden Forest." That's where the really nasty stuff lived—Acromantulas, Horned Serpents, Thestrals—and it blended seamlessly into the wild forests beyond Hogwarts' borders.
Honestly, Fred and George had to be ridiculously brave... or just incredibly lucky. Running around the deep forest without a single safety measure and somehow still making it to graduation? Miraculous.
If they'd wandered into an Acromantula nest instead of a Thestral territory, well... the Weasleys might've been holding funerals, not family dinners.
Tom was different. He wasn't reckless—he was... cautious. Yeah, cautious.
The moment he entered the forest, he activated his Study Space so Andros could observe things from inside.
"Gross," Andros muttered, spotting a Murtlap on the trail.
Murtlaps were rat-like magical creatures, about three or four times the size of a normal rat, with anemone-like growths sprouting from their backs. They looked disgusting.
"So what if it's ugly?" Tom said casually. "I'm not marrying it. As long as it's useful."
He didn't let the rat go. With a quick spell, he tripped it up just as it was about to scurry off, then hit it with a Petrificus Totalus (Full Body-Bind Curse) to lock it in place.
Murtlap antenna fluid was incredibly valuable. It could heal brain damage and was also used in potions related to mental clarity. Snape's notes had two or three recipes that used it.
He squeezed the juice out of those anemone-like appendages until two glass vials were full before finally letting it go.
The poor rat gave him a betrayed look and limped off slowly, clearly traumatized.
Tom, on the other hand, was feeling great. First few steps into the forest and already a nice haul—definitely a good omen.
Those two vials alone would probably go for ten Galleons apiece at a potion shop.
Honestly, Hogwarts was sitting on a treasure trove.
And the richest guy should've been Hagrid. The man could walk into the Forbidden Forest like it was his backyard, and he'd built solid relationships with all the dangerous creatures.
If only he had a sharper mind... If he planned properly and organized the magical creatures here, even Voldemort would find him a serious headache to deal with.
...
Tom continued deeper into the forest.
According to Fred, he just had to keep heading west after entering.
Near a small river in the western forest, there was a flock of Fwoopers.
Fwoopers were native to the Black Forest. They came in all kinds of colors, though most of them were pink and round, looking deceptively cute.
Their voices had a magic similar to the Imperius Curse. If you weren't careful, you could lose your mind and do something... really stupid.
Tom wasn't there for a sing-along, though—he needed their feathers. Plus, where Fwoopers nested, there was a good chance of finding Sneezewort, a key ingredient for energy potions.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, he reached the river Fred had mentioned—well, more of a stream, really. Following it a bit further, he easily spotted his targets.
A bunch of Fwoopers had made their home in a large Warden Tree.
Warden Trees were magical and beloved by magical birds. It wasn't unusual for creatures to fight over one to build their nests.
Besides the Fwoopers, there were also Bowtruckles living on the tree—tiny, stick-like beings who helped trees grow and stay healthy. Luckily, Bowtruckles and Fwoopers didn't mind each other, so they could coexist peacefully.
As Tom approached, the little Bowtruckles didn't react much. They were friendly to all living things, humans included. But the Fwoopers? Not so chill.
Seven or eight pink puffballs immediately flew into the air, glaring at him with beady little eyes. A few curious Bowtruckles peeked their heads out of the tree, watching the scene unfold like nosy neighbors.
Tom gave the Bowtruckles a polite nod.
They were kind of cute. If he were in Hufflepuff, he'd probably be collecting a pair of them by now—and maybe a Niffler too. That'd be the ultimate Hufflepuff starter pack.
Actually, wait... he'd still need one last crucial item—a magical suitcase.
CHIRP!
CHIRP CHIRP!
The Fwoopers' screeching yanked Tom out of his thoughts. Luckily, they weren't using their twittering song—just their regular annoying calls. Tom wasn't affected.
He couldn't understand what they were saying, but it was obvious: "Get lost, human."
Well, sorry. Just because you're being polite doesn't mean I'm leaving.
"Stupefy!"
A blinding flash of light suddenly exploded in the middle of the night, dazzling the Fwoopers. Their brains went blank. Two of the dumber ones forgot to flap their wings and plummeted straight to the ground.
The moment they hit the forest floor, enchanted ropes—woven from enchanted grasses—lashed out and tied up their little bird legs. The ones still airborne didn't last much longer, as Tom calmly took them down one by one.
See, spells weren't just for single targets. Disarming Charms, Stunning Spells—they could all be used in wide-range attacks. The catch? You needed serious magical power and precision. That's why most wizards stuck to beam-style magic.
"Silencio," Tom whispered.
The Fwoopers opened their beaks to unleash their screech—but not a sound came out.
This was exactly why, despite having powers on par with an Unforgivable Curse, Fwoopers were still only rated XXX in danger.
XXX just meant that any reasonably trained wizard could handle them.
A well-placed Silencing Charm and a couple of attack spells? Easy win.
"Don't worry," Tom said cheerfully, squatting next to one of them. "I'm just borrowing a few feathers."
"Buuuut they'll grow back, so I'm not returning them."
He gave the puffball a gentle pat. "Won't take long."
Pluck.
Three of the brightest, fluffiest feathers came off the first one's head. Then he moved to the next. In a short while, he'd collected vibrant feathers from six Fwoopers. The two younger ones hadn't grown theirs yet, so he let them be.
These feathers weren't just for potions or alchemy—they were prized materials for luxury quills.
Tucking them safely away, Tom didn't leave right away. Instead, he started snooping around the Warden Tree, earning some very nervous glances from the Bowtruckles.
A moment later, his eyes lit up.
"Gotcha!"
Behind a moss-covered boulder, a patch of Sneezewort was in full bloom, its white flowers swaying gently. Tom slipped on his gloves, then used Transfiguration to turn a small rock into a sharp pair of shears, and began clipping the plants one by one.
Sneezewort was no joke. If you got the pollen on your hands and accidentally inhaled it, you'd be sneezing for an entire day. Even he had to be careful.
Once he was done, Tom finally released the Fwoopers.
The birds didn't chase him. Now that they understood he wasn't a threat, they just let it go.
Smart birds.
That's just how the animal kingdom worked—survival first, everything else second.
It was nearly 3 a.m. when Tom finally dragged himself out of the Forbidden Forest and headed back to the dorms.
After leaving the Fwoopers' territory, he'd made two more stops—one to collect Moonseeds, and another to snatch up a few Ashwinder eggs.
Honestly, all that walking was exhausting. He should've brought a broom—or better yet, invent his own flying spell.
But that was a problem for another day. One thing at a time.
— — —
"Hey, Andros, do you know any flying spells?" Tom asked hopefully as he was getting ready for bed.
Andros shook his head.
"I tried once. Wanted to invent my own flying magic, but... I'm just not that great at making original spells. Ended up with a few attack spells instead, and gave up on flying."
Tom sighed, a little disappointed, but he got it.
Voldemort's flight magic was considered one of those once-in-a-century achievements. Maybe someone had invented flying spells before, but if they had, nothing had survived.
You could call Voldemort arrogant, paranoid, or even insane...
But no one could say he wasn't powerful.
...
The days that followed were calm and routine.
Truthfully, being a "Shadow Prefect" wasn't that demanding—it was more of a status symbol than anything else.
All Tom wanted was a quiet place to study without dealing with people like Malfoy. Mission accomplished. The first-years now kept to themselves, played nicely, and left him alone.
As the new students started settling into Hogwarts life, the professors began cranking things up. Lessons got tougher. Homework tripled. No more free time to wander around.
The usual smiles around campus started disappearing, replaced by stacks of thick books and endless rolls of parchment. Common rooms turned into homework war zones—everyone crammed together, scribbling away in misery.
Well, the smiles didn't disappear. They just shifted... to the faces of the older students.
"Aw, what's wrong? Not having fun anymore? Hahaha!"
Hogwarts wasn't just a magical playground—you actually had to work to graduate.
— — —
Gryffindor Common Room
Once again, Ron and Harry were begging Hermione to "let them borrow" her Potions homework. But when they got to her table, they found her... still writing Potions homework.
"Huh?" Harry blinked. "Didn't you already finish that yesterday? Why are you still working on it?"
Without even looking up, Hermione replied, "That was my History of Magic essay. You're remembering wrong."
The Dumb Duo shared a look.
Were they wrong?
It just felt like Hermione never stopped writing. She studied harder than both of them, but somehow still had more work left to do?
What they didn't know... was that Hermione was secretly writing a second set of assignments—for Tom.
What had started as a joke suggestion had actually inspired her.
Writing each assignment twice helped reinforce the material. With every second draft, she found new angles she'd missed the first time. Honestly, she felt brilliant.
Even if Tom didn't want her help anymore, she'd probably keep double-writing her homework. That's just how terrifyingly intense she was.
Naturally, Harry and Ron tried asking again. And just as naturally, Hermione shot them down without mercy.
"You've wasted enough time bothering me, Weasley. You could've finished a whole paragraph by now."
Ron stormed off, dragging Harry with him. Even a few corridors away, Harry could still hear Ron grumbling:
"What's her problem? All she does is write homework and hang around that Slytherin, Tom Riddle. She barely even talks to us anymore."
"Tom is a good guy," Harry said quietly.
He didn't like Slytherin either, but what he hated was Malfoy—the kind of pure-blood snob who never shut up about bloodlines.
Tom had actually helped him out. Gave him advice on dealing with Malfoy. Even saved his potion a few times when it was about to explode.
That kind of help? It was basically life-saving.
"I know Tom's different," Ron muttered. "But he's still Slytherin. Can't Granger cut us some slack for once?"
Harry said nothing and kept walking.
...
The final week of October rolled in, and with it, a sudden drop in temperature. Tons of young witches and wizards caught colds after forgetting to swap into their winter robes. Madam Pomfrey's infirmary had a line out the door every morning.
And yet... the Quidditch teams were out training in that freezing wind.
The first match of the season was set for the weekend after Halloween—Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. The most intense rivalry on the pitch.
For days, Gryffindor and Slytherin fought over practice slots and blocked off the entire stadium during training. No spectators allowed.
Gryffindor's captain, Oliver Wood, had this grand idea of keeping Harry a secret weapon—until Ron blew it.
During yet another argument with Malfoy, Ron blurted out that Harry had joined the Gryffindor team—and that he was the youngest Seeker in a century.
Now the entire school knew.
Wood was devastated, but tried to console himself by thinking: "At least no one knows how good Harry is. Maybe they'll underestimate him."
Tom, of course, wasn't paying attention to Quidditch. That was the Chosen One's thing.
Sure, winning the Quidditch Cup earned your house a ridiculous amount of points... but Tom had a feeling that no matter how big the lead, it'd all magically disappear just in time for a heroic last-minute comeback.
So he needed to prepare accordingly.
Plus, his magic had been growing at an absurd rate lately. Too fast. His body couldn't keep up, and the excess energy was starting to make him jittery.
Andros had been nagging him for days to gather the ingredients needed for the potion that would strengthen his physical body.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Tom said vaguely inside the Study Space. "I'll get the stuff."
"It's been two months since term started," Andros snapped. "We made that plan in the first week."
"Tonight. I swear. I'll get everything tonight."
Tom sounded confident.
Tomorrow was Halloween. There would be a feast. It'd be the perfect cover.
He could lay low.
But someone else? Well... someone was definitely about to make a move.
"Professor Quirrell… ready to play your part?"
.
.
.
