Harry Potter and the Cataclysm

At midnight, Carnie had moved from his bed to the windowsill, bathed in moonlight. He had now gained full control over his spiritual energy.

Following its flow, he could clearly sense the condition of his body. Before, he had merely allowed it to move along with his blood circulation, passively opening pathways.

Though he had no clue what the Ren and Du meridians were, nor did he understand acupuncture points or other mystical terms, he figured letting his energy circulate through his entire body had to be the right approach.

He wasn't reckless enough to force things—he simply guided the energy along, allowing it to seep into whatever areas it could.

He found many blocked passages, but a slight push from his spiritual energy would loosen them, as if all it needed was a bit more effort to be fully cleared.

It was like playing a massive version of a box-pushing puzzle game—some blocks were easy to move, but pushing randomly would just create a deadlock, making things progressively harder. Eventually, if not careful, everything would become stuck.

Carnie took his time, carefully navigating through it all, slowly smoothing out the pathways.

He suddenly felt something within him about to erupt. Instinctively, he shot up and rushed to the washroom.

That night's "release" smelled even worse than usual. Carnie also noticed a sticky layer of grime coating his skin, so he took another shower.

When he stepped out, he felt lighter, his movements swifter. He clenched his fist and threw a punch—twice as fast as before.

Without dumbbells or weights, he could only test his strength by lifting furniture. Gripping the edge of a desk, he let out a low breath and lifted—it felt significantly easier than it should.

Carnie estimated that he now had the strength of a fully grown adult.

Yeah, dual cultivation of magic and physical strength really is the way to go. Twice the benefits, twice the fun.

The dormitory door swung open. Without looking, he knew it was Harry and the others returning.

They were the only ones in the dorm besides Seamus, who was still in the hospital wing. Neville had yet to return—probably because he forgot the password again.

"You won't believe what we discovered tonight, Carnie!" Ron exclaimed the moment he stepped in, Harry and Neville following behind.

They had found Neville sleeping outside the Gryffindor common room when they returned. Now, he barely made it to his bed before passing out.

"Guess what we ran into tonight!" Ron urged.

"Malfoy didn't show up. Filch did," Carnie replied, unconcerned.

"How do you know? You weren't even there!" Harry looked startled.

"If Malfoy had shown up, you wouldn't be looking this smug," Carnie came up with a plausible excuse.

"That coward! Lucky for us, Filch didn't catch us. But we made an even bigger discovery," Ron said mysteriously.

"We found a giant three-headed dog in a room on the third-floor corridor. Its eyes were as big as pumpkins, and its teeth were terrifying!" Harry shuddered. "Hermione also spotted a trapdoor underneath it. I bet that's where Hagrid put whatever he took from Gringotts. That thing is guarding it."

"Well, mystery solved. We know where it is, and we know it's safe. Now go to bed," Carnie had no interest in the Sorcerer's Stone. It wasn't his, after all.

"Don't you even want to know what it's guarding?" Harry asked.

"Sure, but we can just ask Hagrid tomorrow."

"That's… actually a good point."

The next day, Harry, Ron, and Carnie headed to Hagrid's hut. Neville and Hermione showed no interest—especially Hermione, who was still fuming over the previous night's adventure and refusing to speak to them.

Harry and Ron actually saw Hermione's absence as a relief. She always acted like a know-it-all and loved bossing people around. Carnie, equally outstanding, never behaved that way, which made her attitude even more annoying by comparison.

"Hagrid, do you know what's hidden under the trapdoor in the third-floor corridor? There's a three-headed dog guarding it," Harry asked directly.

"How'd you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid frowned.

"Fluffy?"

"Yeah, he's mine. Bought him off a Greek fellow at the pub last year. Loaned him to Dumbledore to guard—" Hagrid stopped mid-sentence.

"Guard what?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Enough questions. That's not for you to know," Hagrid said seriously. "It's classified. Got it?"

"Classified!" Harry and Ron echoed.

"That's it, no more talk. I might slip up if we keep going. Now off with you, I've got work to do." Hagrid grabbed his oversized bow and headed into the Forbidden Forest.

Harry and Ron racked their brains trying to figure out what the "classified" object was, but they had no time to dwell on it. Once all the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years were discharged from the hospital wing, their schedules became packed again.

Carnie never cared in the first place, so the matter was left unresolved.

On the night of their discharge, the school held an assembly to officially reprimand both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

The students in both houses settled down significantly after that. Life slowly returned to normal—morning classes, afternoon spell practice, and evening meditation. Before they knew it, two months had passed.

The only real change was the steady improvement in magic and spiritual energy. The constant drowsiness from before had disappeared, thanks to nightly meditation. He hadn't had a dream in ages.

On Halloween, the school was filled with the aroma of roasted pumpkin.

The only thing Carnie liked about pumpkins was pumpkin jam—dried and sliced pumpkin pieces. His family used to make it every year, and he'd nibble on it when he had nothing else to do.

Too bad London had none of that.

He also never understood why the school served pumpkin juice as a staple. Was cow's milk poisonous? Were London's fruits not fresh enough?

On Wednesday morning, they had Charms class.

Professor Flitwick demonstrated the Levitation Charm by making the books on his desk float. "Swish and flick," he explained while demonstrating the proper motion.

He then passed out feathers to each desk and paired the students into groups. Carnie was with Neville, Harry with Seamus, Ron with Hermione—just like in his memories.

"Remember, the incantation is Wingardium Leviosa!" Flitwick reminded them. "Swish and flick. Begin your practice."

Carnie remembered this scene well. He had already mastered the Levitation Charm since he had full control over his magic, but he wasn't planning to show off just yet.

The classroom filled with uneven chanting. Neville was particularly serious about practicing.

"Winga...dium…Levi...a...sa! … Wingard...ium…Leviosa!"

But he kept mispronouncing it, and his wand movements weren't precise.

Carnie noticed Ron furiously shaking his wand, arguing with Hermione. He couldn't hear the words, but he could see the frustration on their faces.

Then, Hermione picked up her wand, swished and flicked—and her feather floated effortlessly.

"Oh, well done!" Flitwick cheered. "Everyone, look! Miss Granger has done it!"

The feather at their desk gracefully floated toward the ceiling.

Hermione's face turned red from the praise, while Ron's turned red for another reason—he looked away, clearly embarrassed at being outperformed.

"Gryffindor, five points," Flitwick added. Hermione was one of the few first-years adding points for Gryffindor. She excelled in all subjects—except flying.

Harry and Ron, on the other hand, were rather average. Harry had unexpected talent in flying, but thanks to their earlier fight, he wouldn't be playing Quidditch this year.

Honestly, he shouldn't have grabbed Malfoy so quickly that day. And Malfoy… well, Malfoy talked too much.

It was just like that saying—villains lose because they talk too much.

If Malfoy had just flown up like a normal person, none of that mess would have happened. Gryffindor's points wouldn't be in the negatives.

Neville… well, talking about him was just depressing. His only real talent was Herbology.

As for Carnie? He was heavily skewed toward practical subjects—great at Transfiguration and Charms, but mediocre at everything else. A classic case of "better at doing than studying."

Except for flying, of course.

Boom!

The whole class jumped.

It was Harry and Seamus's feather—Seamus had blown it up.

And himself, too.

Half of Harry's face was covered in soot.

Carnie glanced at Neville.

Yeah… sticking with Neville was the safest bet. He couldn't even cast a spell properly. The only time he was dangerous was in Potions.