Harry Potter and the Cataclysm

"Alright, you all should get some proper rest," Professor McGonagall said before leaving the hospital wing, heading straight for the headmaster's office on the eighth floor.

"Merlin, I thought we were doomed for sure!" Ron patted his chest in relief.

"You're fine now. Eat some chocolate, and go rest in your dormitory!" Madam Pomfrey's voice rang out.

A chubby figure was then pushed out of the hospital wing, holding a piece of chocolate—Neville.

"Neville! How are you feeling?" Carnie asked.

"I'm okay," Neville said, though his voice still carried a bit of hesitation. "What happened after I left?"

"Well… we got into a brawl with Slytherin. Here, your Remembrall," Harry said, handing it over while explaining the events.

"Thanks, guys!" Neville looked like he was about to cry. He realized the entire fight had happened because of him.

Back in the common room, no one was in the mood for stories anymore after everything that had happened.

"Hey! That was brilliant."

"Our little brother, you guys are famous now."

Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, popped up with grins stretching from ear to ear.

"The whole school knows! You lot sent the Slytherins straight to the hospital wing," George said.

"How did word get out so fast? We just got out of the hospital!" Ron asked, baffled.

"You can thank your dear brothers," Fred said proudly. "We used Skiving Snackboxes to skip class and rest in the hospital wing, and just as we were about to leave, a whole squad of injured Slytherins stormed in."

"We asked around and learned about the grand battle."

"This is even crazier than any of our pranks!"

"Naturally, we had to spread the good news immediately."

"No need to thank us," they finished, one after the other.

"There's a party in the common room tonight. Be there," they added before heading upstairs.

Even Hermione didn't have the heart to go to the library anymore. The fight had been exhilarating, but now that it was over, concern started to creep in—what if the injuries had been worse?

"I'm skipping dinner. If anyone's going, bring me something back," Carnie said before heading upstairs.

The others exchanged looks.

"I'm not going either. If someone goes, bring something for me too," Hermione said. The uncertainty about the condition of the students in the hospital wing killed her appetite.

"You guys eating?" Ron asked.

"Not hungry."

"No appetite."

Back in the dormitory, after washing up, Carnie sat cross-legged on his bed.

Not for cultivation—just meditation.

His magical reserves had been completely drained from the fight earlier.

Closing his eyes, he could still "see" as if they were open.

It was a form of mental perception.

He had drawn inspiration from movies like Prototype and X-Men's Phoenix. It was all about focusing his attention.

In Prototype, the protagonist materialized his mental power through abilities, while X-Men's Phoenix had raw, overwhelming psychic power.

Carnie's spiritual strength, perhaps due to his reincarnation, was exceptionally strong. A few nights ago, he had finally sensed the magic within him.

However, he had yet to feel the ambient magic around him. Tonight, he planned to push further.

He could already perceive the objects in the dormitory—his vision resembled a thermal scan, except it didn't detect heat, but magic instead. Human-shaped magical silhouettes moved about.

But the ambient magic? That was much harder to pinpoint.

His dormmates, seeing him meditating again, didn't disturb him. They were used to it.

He didn't know how much time passed, but finally… he saw it.

A faint light speck in the void. It was unclear, barely there.

As he adjusted, more specks of light emerged. They seemed to be drawn toward him, merging into his body. They replenished his depleted reserves, but once he reached saturation, they stopped entering, bouncing away as if repelled.

Like a phone that stops charging once it hits 100%.

Carnie opened his eyes. It was already late at night.

He had missed the party.

But oddly, he didn't feel hungry. Now, he had two choices—sleep or cultivate.

A tough decision. He had officially stepped into the ranks of true wizards.

Maybe he should cultivate. Life was full of choices, after all. People weren't necessarily "hardworking" or "lazy"—they just made different decisions. Maybe this was why some people achieved greatness while others didn't.

For the next two weeks, Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years had all their classes suspended.

No one needed to guess why.

Though a few lightly injured students returned, most remained in the hospital wing.

When they walked through the castle, reactions from other Houses varied. Gryffindors, of course, stood by their own, despite losing all their points. But Slytherin had also lost everything—though since they had started with a higher base score, they still had a few points left.

For Gryffindor, House points had never really mattered. The House Cup had always been monopolized by Slytherin. But this year? Things might be different.

Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, on the other hand, exchanged knowing smiles whenever they saw Harry and the others. The competition between these two Houses had intensified.

With Slytherin's "big snake" being held down by Gryffindor's "lion," the underdog Houses now had a shot at the Cup. Hands flew up in classrooms, both Houses competing fiercely.

Ravenclaw wasn't as invincible as they thought, and Hufflepuff wasn't as ordinary as rumors claimed.

As for Slytherin students? Their attitudes hadn't changed much. They remained cold, but their pride had taken a hit. In their aristocratic minds, their first-years had been humiliated.

The higher-ups in Slytherin weren't going to take revenge themselves—this was a shame their first-years had to erase themselves.

Even among the older students of both Gryffindor and Slytherin, tensions rose. But after seeing what had happened to the first-years, no one was reckless enough to escalate further.

The only silver lining?

The fight had taken place on September 13th, now known as the "913 Incident."

No one had suffered permanent injuries. The school's medical staff had handled everything. There were no major, irreversible consequences.

The professors and staff all breathed a sigh of relief.

If something serious had happened, Hogwarts wouldn't have been able to cover it up. Parents would have raised hell. A fight breaking out within a month of term starting? That would have been front-page Daily Prophet news.

Carnie and the others also felt relieved.

In the following days, Carnie dedicated himself to pushing his limits—emptying his magical reserves daily, then replenishing them. He could physically feel his magic growing.

Bang!

The dormitory door burst open.

"Carnie, you need to talk some sense into Harry and Ron! They're sneaking out at midnight for a duel with Malfoy," Hermione stormed in. "The points just got reset, and they're already causing trouble again!"

"Hey! Hermione, that's not very polite," Carnie shot her a look. "What if I wasn't wearing anything? Also, how can you even enter the boys' dorm?"

"I apologize, I should have knocked. But if you actually read the dormitory rules posted on the common room wall, you'd know," Hermione said sternly. "Harry and Ron are about to do something reckless. You need to stop them!"

"This is a good thing, though. Another chance to thrash Malfoy. You guys go ahead—I'm sitting this one out," Carnie said, knowing exactly what they would discover tonight.

"If you're not helping, then fine!" Hermione huffed and stormed off.

A few moments later, Harry and Ron came in.

"Carnie, are you free tonight?" Ron asked, flipping through his Standard Book of Spells.

"If it's to beat up Malfoy, you guys are more than enough. If I come along, you might not even get the chance to fight," Carnie smirked.

He wasn't interested in wandering around at night. Plus, he had his suspicions—Neville's flying accident hadn't been normal.

Quirrell was probably behind it.

Most likely, he had meant to target Harry but got the wrong person.

After all, Quirrell would later try the same trick during the Quidditch match.

"Did Hermione tell you?" Ron muttered. "I knew it. She always does this."

"She picked the wrong guy. Carnie's one of us," Harry grinned.

"It's better that he's not coming. If they knew Carnie was involved, Malfoy might not even show up," Ron laughed.

Fools. Carnie thought. Malfoy isn't coming anyway.