Hogwarts: From Little Wizard to White Lord

In the next instant, Peter unleashed another blasting "Expelliarmus!"

The black-robed man's shield shattered at once but the brief delay had been enough for him to ready a counterattack. Even as his protection collapsed, his wand flared with red light.

To his shock, the spell fizzled into harmless sparks before it could reach Peter. A shimmering shield cast with far more skill than his own had absorbed the attack entirely.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Protected by a flawless Level Four Shield Charm, Peter fired spell after spell in rapid succession. Streaks of red tore through the shadowed corridor, forcing the black-robed figure into a frantic retreat.

No one could guess how shaken he was.

It wasn't only Peter's precision that rattled him it was the sheer volume of magical power behind each spell, the kind of strength one would expect from a fully trained adult wizard.

Driven into desperation by the relentless barrage, the black-robed man let out a high, twisted cry: "I'm sorry, Master help me!"

At once, the faint, hoarse hissing that had faded earlier slithered back into the corridor.

Another force stirred within him, its magic so strange and cold that it seemed to wash the colour from the world. The flames in the wall sconces turned pale, as if everything around them was being drained away.

The man in black screamed and writhed, as though tortured and bound by something far greater than himself.

Harry clutched at his scar with a hiss of pain.

The warped, nightmarish vision returned, even stronger than before. Light and shadow twisted in his sight until all that remained was a warped halo framing the black-robed man.

He saw the terrible figure raise his wand.

Peter's expression hardened to steel.

"…Voldemort…"

If Harry and Hermione weren't here, Peter wouldn't have confronted them directly not out of fear, but out of his ingrained caution.

He was afraid of no one.

A dozen thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. Fixing his gaze on the black-robed man, Peter summoned every ounce of malice within him and snarled the incantation:

"Sectumsempra!"

There was no flash, no crack of air only a silent, lethal curse that rippled invisibly forward.

In Harry's blurred vision, the scene unfolded in slow motion. He saw Peter unleash a spell he had never even heard before. The rippling air pierced through the man's faltering shield and drove deep into his shoulder.

The black-robed figure roared in pain.

The tip of his wand blazed an unnatural, venomous green.

"Avada "

And in that heartbeat, Harry saw Peter reach into his pocket, draw out a brilliant red feather, and hurl it skyward.

With a sharp flick of his wand, the feather burst into flame.

" Kedavra!"

Green light and flame burst forth at the same time, colliding in midair.

Fawkes had sensed the summons from somewhere within Hogwarts. The moment he Apparated into the corridor, before he could even take in his surroundings, his vision was filled with a blinding green flash.

This, he thought in a moment of absurd clarity, was probably the worst thing in the world.

The phoenix recognized the killing curse instantly, the thought surfacing without effort

and then came a deafening crack! as every last feather on his body exploded outward.

Fawkes tumbled to the floor in an undignified heap, reduced to something that resembled a bald, scrawny chick.

At the same time, another immense surge of magic was racing toward them from below.

Dumbledore.

The black-robed man sensed it too. His next roar was completely different laced with fear and fury. Clutching his injured shoulder, he dissolved into a cloud of black smoke and fled in a panic.

Only then did Peter, who had already hauled Hermione and Harry into the Charms classroom the moment the phoenix feather had ignited, finally exhale in relief.

Thank Merlin for his caution and for warning Ron before coming up.

And thank you, Fawkes.

It was only now that Peter realized his robes were soaked with sweat, and his wand hand was trembling ever so slightly.

This had been nothing like killing a troll.

This had been his first duel with a wizard

and not just any wizard, but the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort.

Even if it was a damaged, weakened version of him…

Quirrell hardly factored into Peter's thoughts; the man was a vessel, nothing more.

Slumping to the floor and gulping in air, Peter glanced at Harry, still limp but breathing, and at Hermione, pale but with alert eyes. He didn't bother scolding them.

The professors could handle that.

Looking toward the corridor, Peter spotted Fawkes sitting bare-skinned on the floor, eyes glassy, still processing his recent misfortune.

Peter crawled over and scooped him into his hands. "Thank you, Fawkes. I knew you'd come."

The phoenix blinked back to awareness, staring at Peter in disbelief, his small pink beak trembling.

If he could speak, he'd have delivered a string of furious curses.

Was this something any sane wizard would do? Summon him into the path of an Avada Kedavra?

In that instant, Fawkes almost wished he could rewind time to the day Peter had first found one of his shed feathers. That day, he'd perched high above, watching the young wizard treasure the token, secretly amused at the boy's naivety.

If he could return to that moment, he would have kicked his younger self, then flown down and pecked Peter mercilessly.

At that moment, a swirl of white mist spiraled upward, condensing quickly into form.

Dumbledore landed lightly and strode toward them at once.

The old wizard's gaze swept swiftly over Peter, the dazed Harry, and Hermione, confirming in an instant that all three were unharmed.

Dumbledore took in the corridor, scarred and blasted apart by flying spells, and let out a quiet breath of relief.

Then his gaze fell on Fawkes already reborn nestled in Peter's hands.

Dumbledore's lips trembled.

…

"I cannot believe it. How could there be such reckless children at Hogwarts? Two of you skipped the Halloween feast, snuck off to wander the castle, and ended up running into a troll. And the other two upon discovering your friend was missing didn't tell a prefect or a professor, but went looking for him yourselves."

"You "

In the headmaster's office, Professor McGonagall pressed a hand to her chest, taking deep breaths to steady herself.

Peter, Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood obediently in front of her. She had been scolding them for over ten minutes, yet what truly infuriated her was that none of the four looked the least bit guilty.

Peter's gaze roamed the room. Ron's face was bright red. Harry stood there in a daze, glancing now and then at Peter and the other professors, clearly lost in thought. Even Hermione, usually the picture of discipline, seemed uncharacteristically distracted.

Snape, too, seemed far away in thought. He stared at Peter with unreadable, almost lifeless eyes. Whatever was going through his mind, no one could tell.

It wasn't until Dumbledore spoke his name that he stirred.

"Severus, you and Filius will see to the troll's remains. Our dear Peter blew its head clean off blood everywhere. The scene is… rather gruesome."

Professor Flitwick nodded and departed with a silent Snape.

Dumbledore then turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, please take Harry, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger to Madam Pomfrey for a check-up… Oh, and collect Professor Quirrell from the Great Hall as well."

Still simmering with anger, McGonagall finally ended her tirade. She was just about to usher the students out when Dumbledore added,

"Peter, stay."

McGonagall hesitated, meeting Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. In the end, she said nothing.

Ron, dragging the still-dazed Harry, followed her out with his chin lifted in stubborn defiance. Hermione cast Peter a worried look, only leaving when he gave her a reassuring nod.