Hogwarts: From Little Wizard to White Lord

In truth, before Tom Riddle, Hogwarts had never banned the study of dark magic, nor had it forbidden research into the soul.

Secrets of the Darkest Arts, the very book that contained the method of creating a Horcrux, had once been kept year-round in the Restricted Section. Back then, any student could borrow it with a professor's permission.

That changed only after Tom became the "Socket Man." In his search for the secret to immortality, Dumbledore had confiscated every book Tom had ever borrowed especially those dealing with dark magic and the soul.

Peter rubbed his forehead, feeling a stab of frustration.

Blasted Tom.

When he'd visited Dumbledore's office before, he had never spotted a single book like that. The old man must have hidden them all away.

With Tom's example fresh in his mind, Peter knew it would be nearly impossible to borrow such a book from Dumbledore now.

Their relationship was in a delicate balance. In order to insert himself more deeply into the fates of both Harry and Tom, Peter had chosen to share certain pieces of information with the Headmaster

For example, about the Horcruxes, and about Harry's strange condition.

Of course, these bits of knowledge from the "original story" could be disguised with other explanations, but knowing about Horcruxes at all was enough to make Dumbledore wary.

At the moment, Peter and Dumbledore were testing each other. There were matters where they trusted one another, and matters where they did not. Peter had no intention of becoming a pawn in Dumbledore's war against Voldemort, and Dumbledore had no intention of raising another Voldemort in his own school.

"I'll have to get the old man to give ground little by little," Peter thought. Harry might even serve as a useful shield, so long as Peter could ensure Dumbledore wouldn't become the next Dark Lord.

Then the obvious truth struck him it was all Tom's fault in the first place.

Blasted Tom.

"Achoo!"

Hermione and Harry had just stepped out of Gryffindor Tower when they ran into Professor Quirrell. They greeted him politely, only for him to sneeze violently, nearly dripping from the nose.

Harry swallowed back a wave of nausea. "Professor, are you all right?"

Quirrell looked thoroughly miserable, huddled in a thick fur cloak.

Steam was rising from his ears a side effect of some sort of stimulant and the garlic stench from his turban seemed even stronger than usual.

"No, no, it's… it's fine, Mr. Bo Bopotter…" He forced a weak smile, his stammer worse than ever. "Madam Pomfrey… I told her… I have a cold… Ah! I must rest. Excuse me!"

The two of them watched him shuffle away, his face briefly twisting in pain before he scurried along the wall in small, hurried steps.

Hermione whispered sympathetically, "He must have caught a chill yesterday when he collapsed in the Great Hall. The Headmaster didn't even remember him until the very end."

As she spoke, a passing student spotted Quirrell and called out cheerfully, "Professor Quirrell, look there's a troll!"

The nearby students burst into laughter.

Ever since Quirrell had been frightened unconscious by the troll yesterday and the troll had been killed by Peter no student had given the professor the slightest respect.

Watching the scene, Harry sighed. "If I were him, I'd leave Hogwarts and never come back."

"Do you think he's the one trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?" Hermione asked.

"Impossible," Harry said firmly. "You might as well suspect Goyle and Crabbe. Quirrell… what could he possibly do?"

It was a particularly harsh insult. In their eyes, Goyle and Crabbe occupied the lowest rung of the human ladder there was simply no way to go any lower.

Hermione shot Harry a disapproving glare.

The two of them made their way down into the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, stopping before an old door with bold words carved above it.

Sea View Room!

"How are we supposed to get in? There's no password," Harry whispered nervously. This was the territory of the "evil" Slytherins, and he couldn't help wondering what the inside would look like.

"Wait for someone to come," Hermione said calmly, clutching her schoolbag.

After a long wait, a tall, broad-shouldered girl wearing the Slytherin serpent badge finally appeared.

Summoning her courage, Hermione stepped forward. "We're friends of Peter Weasley. We'd like to visit him in his dormitory. Could you open the door for us?"

The girl looked them both over with sharp, assessing eyes. Recognizing Harry, she grinned. "Follow me."

She spoke the password and opened the door.

Hermione and Harry stepped into a vast common room where sunlight streamed through the ice outside the enormous bay window. Light rippled over the lakebed, plants swayed gently, and schools of fish drifted past as if in a dream.

The two stood frozen in awe.

No wonder Peter called it the Sea View Room…

There were quite a few students inside, including Malfoy. The moment he spotted Harry, he leapt up from the sofa. "Potter, you "

Before he could continue, the girl pointed to a staircase. "Mr. Weasley's dormitory is two floors up, second door."

Malfoy quickly sat back down as if nothing had happened.

Harry, pretending not to notice him, followed Hermione up the stairs. Once they were out of sight, he patted his chest. "That scared me. Malfoy with that many Slytherins…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What's there to be afraid of? Didn't you notice? When that senior said Peter's name, none of them dared move."

Harry had noticed and he was envious.

Who wouldn't want that kind of presence?

Following the senior's directions, they soon found Peter's dormitory. Hermione knocked, and the door opened to reveal a large, fluffy cat hanging from the handle. It meowed at her in greeting.

Hermione's face lit up. She scooped it into her arms. "Oh, Guoguocha, you're such a clever thing."

Guoguocha nuzzled her affectionately, flicking its tail at Harry as a half-hearted greeting.

Harry didn't mind the uneven treatment. His attention was caught by Peter, sitting at the desk by the window, tapping a pebble with his wand. As he murmured a spell, the pebble seemed to fade away, vanishing bit by bit.

It was like watching an invisible eraser wipe it out of existence.

Within moments, the pebble was gone entirely. Peter looked up at them. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, we wanted to see you," Hermione said, her gaze fixed on the empty spot where the pebble had been. "Did you make it invisible? What kind of magic is that?"

In the wizarding world, making something invisible wasn't unusual. They hadn't learned it in first year, but Professor Flitwick had mentioned examples like the Disillusionment Charm and the Vanishing Spell in class.

Peter didn't answer right away.

Instead, he looked straight at Harry, who was frowning in thought. "Harry, what do you think?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard. Normally, with his limited spell knowledge, he'd have accepted Hermione's guess without question.

But something told him this wasn't invisibility. The spell Peter had just used… it felt dangerous.

That pebble hadn't simply become invisible it had ceased to exist.

He hesitated, then voiced his suspicion. Hermione's eyes went wide. She'd already read every first-year textbook and even consulted some reference books with the professors, but she'd never heard of such magic. (The Vanishing Spell wasn't taught until fifth year.)

Before she could press for details, Peter let out a sigh.

"You've got a serious problem, Harry."

Harry: "?"