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[Hogwarts] Ch 42: Draught of Living Death
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 16:53:26 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
There's a saying— 'When pride's on the line, reason goes out the window.'
Since the very train ride to Hogwarts, Malfoy had been all over Harry like an annoying Housefly. Even someone as peace-loving as Harry had finally snapped.
He didn't care anymore—he was going to teach Malfoy a lesson he wouldn't forget.
With one final icy glare at Malfoy, Harry grabbed Ron and bolted back to their dorm to start preparing.
...
Meanwhile, Tom wasn't wandering around either. He headed back to his dorm.
The moment he stepped inside, it was like a flurry of activity.
Nott grabbed chairs. Rosier wiped down the table and even took out a bunch of his own snacks, carefully laying them out on Tom's desk. Zabini tossed his school bag aside and ran out to fetch tea and water.
According to Tom, their dorm was "full of love"—they were supposed to help each other out.
They brought him tea and snacks. In return, Tom helped them... well, helped them not get beaten like piñatas.
As for who would've been doing the beating? Don't ask. Just know that thanks to Tom, life had been very peaceful for the three of them lately.
"Mr. Riddle, fresh tea—be careful, it's hot!" Zabini said with a fake smile as he carefully placed the cup in front of him.
Tom didn't even look up from his book. He gave a quiet "Mm" and a small nod.
A few minutes later, the tea had cooled enough to drink. Tom reached for the cup—but the moment his fingers touched it, a sharp warning rang through his mind.
His detection spell had just been triggered.
Tom's eyes turned cold. A dangerous glint flashed across them.
Poison?
He thought these guys had finally learned their lesson. But no—they still had the nerve to try something.
"Petrificus Totalus."
The spell struck Zabini, who'd been pretending to read but was obviously keeping an eye on Tom the whole time.
Nott and Rosier both turned pale as sheets.
'Oh no. We're screwed.' x2
"So it was all three of you," Tom said coolly. He picked up the cup, walked over to the now-stiff Zabini, and poured the entire thing down his throat.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Zabini dropped like a stone.
Tom raised an eyebrow. "That effect... Was that Draught of Living Death?"
With a loud thud, Nott fell to his knees and blurted out, "Yes! Yes, it was Draught of Living Death! It's not some lethal poison, I swear! Riddle, it was Zabini's idea. He wanted to knock you out, tie you up, and give you a taste of your own medicine!"
"He brewed it himself! Rosier and I just... just gave him ingredients and covered for him."
Nott watched Tom's calm face grow even calmer and felt his heart leap into his throat.
"I'm telling you everything I know—please, Riddle, let me off this time?"
After Zabini beat him last time and ratted Rosier, Nott had secretly sworn he'd be faster next time. He'd even thought about ratting Zabini out before he pulled anything.
But then again... wouldn't that be straight-up betrayal?
And what if the plan worked this time? Sweet revenge!
Too bad Tom's instincts ruined their plan again—and now it was time for the familiar punishment routine.
Tom didn't respond to Nott's plea. Instead, he asked, "You said Zabini made the Draught of Living Death himself?"
Nott pointed at the trembling Rosier. "He watched Zabini make it! He's the one who told me."
Tom turned to Rosier, who nodded with great difficulty.
Tom, however, was no longer focused on the poisoning attempt. What caught his attention now was how Zabini managed to brew that particular potion.
The Draught of Living Death was an advanced potion taught in sixth year.
And Zabini, a first-year, had brewed it perfectly?
That's real talent.
Then Tom remembered—Slughorn had recently taken over as Potions Master. The guy was known for being a social climber, always trying to win over students with fame, power, or potential.
Zabini had apparently joined his little "Slug Club."
So his skill must've caught Slughorn's eye.
"Are we good?" Nott asked cautiously, noticing that Tom hadn't done anything for a while.
He and Rosier were starting to think they might just get away with it this time.
That dream lasted five seconds.
With a flick of Tom's wand, both of them were levitated and strung up in midair—Zabini included. Then Tom casually re-cast Petrificus Totalus on each of them for good measure before returning to his seat and opening his book.
"When he wakes up, we'll settle the score properly," he said calmly.
Rosier and Nott were completely numb.
Who knew when Zabini would wake up? What if it wasn't until tomorrow? Were they going to be stuck like this all night?
...
..
As it turned out, the Draught of Living Death really lived up to its name. By the time Tom had finished dinner with Daphne and taken a relaxing walk by the Black Lake, Zabini was still out cold—snoring away in a twisted, uncomfortable position like it didn't bother him at all.
Luckily for the duo, Tom was done waiting.
He pointed his wand at Zabini and cast, "Rennervate."
A soft red glow enveloped Zabini's body.
The Draught of Living Death wasn't some dark or cursed potion—it was just a ridiculously powerful sedative. Physical methods wouldn't wake you up, but magic would.
A few seconds later, Zabini's eyes fluttered open.
Nott and Rosier's eyes went wide in relief.
Thank Merlin's leopard-print tights—he's finally awake!
"You're up?" Tom asked with a friendly smile.
Zabini instantly realized what kind of trouble he was in and looked at him in horror.
"I—"
"Ah ah, don't talk yet," Tom cut him off. At some point, his wand had silently transformed into a whip.
"First comes the lesson... then the apology."
"This is your third time. You know the rules by now."
A second later, the familiar sound of screaming echoed through the dorm.
Thankfully, Tom had already cast a silencing spell. Otherwise, who knows how many people would've come running.
---
Fifteen minutes later.
Thump!
Zabini, Rosier, and Nott all collapsed to their knees in perfect unison, bowing deeply as they offered Tom a cup of tea.
"Boss, we surrender. Completely. Totally."
Tom took the cup from Zabini and took a slow sip. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked:
"Zabini, be honest—did you really brew that Draught of Living Death yourself?"
"And was this your first time? Or have you practiced before at home?"
.
.
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