Hogwarts: Dyroth Grindelwald Rise From Nurmengard

[false_truth]

(Thanks to all who supported me until now by comments, likes, PS, or in patreon as I appreciate that and can't thank you enough)


(Thanks again and enjoy the reading)


...


They say nothing good happens after three in the morning.


Dyroth wholeheartedly agreed, especially as his blood pressure soared and his body tensed up. He didn't need to look back to know who it was.


Quirrell.


The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts, and more importantly, the host of the Dark Lord himself—Voldemort.


Dyroth was painfully aware that his surname, Grindelwald, would not go unnoticed. How could it?


Stay calm, Dyroth , he reminded himself, silently repeating the words. With Dumbledore around, as long as I don't act suspicious, Voldemort can't make a move. At least not yet.


Forcing a smile, Dyroth turned around.


"Professor Quirrell, good evening."


"Go-good evening, Mr. Grindelwald! What brings you out here instead of sleeping in the common room?" Quirrell stammered, his nervous gaze flicking across Dyroth.


"My apologies, Professor. I was up late studying and went to the kitchen for a quick snack."


"A snack?"


"Yes, I got a bit carried away with my reading. By the time I noticed, it was already past midnight."


Quirrell blinked, his expression twisting slightly. His rosy complexion suddenly paled, and he looked at Dyroth with an odd mix of hesitation and unease.


Something's wrong, Dyroth thought, sensing the change. Slowly, he began to retreat.


"Well, Professor, if there's nothing else, I'll head back now. Don't want to get caught by Filch, after all." He smiled and moved backward cautiously.


"Wait...wait a moment!" Quirrell's voice quivered, and cold sweat began to dot his forehead as if he were enduring great pain. Yet, he forced a smile.


"Mr. Grindelwald, why not bring your book to my office? I could help you review it."


Dyroth stiffened. Voldemort's taking over.


"I'm afraid it's quite late, Professor. Another time perhaps," Dyroth replied, inching further away.


"Mr. Grindelwald, surely you wouldn't refuse a teacher's invitation?" Quirrell's demeanor shifted abruptly. His voice grew deeper, and an air of confidence suddenly surrounded him.


For a split second, Dyroth lost his composure. Then, instinctively, he activated Occlumency. Legilimency? Damn it, Voldemort's trying to probe me!


He cursed himself inwardly. I shouldn't have agreed to the Weasley twins' midnight snack run. I've been too relaxed lately. Time to sharpen my senses again.


"Professor," Dyroth said with a steady smile, "it's not that I want to refuse, but I have class tomorrow, and Professor McGonagall won't be happy if I'm tired."


Quirrell's expression shifted, clearly surprised by Dyroth's ability to resist the mental invasion. His interest piqued as he observed the young Grindelwald.


"Are you afraid of the professors, Mr. Grindelwald?" Quirrell asked, his voice dripping with curiosity.


"I'm a student, after all. Isn't it normal to respect authority?"


Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.


Finally! Dyroth's heart leapt as the sound grew closer.


"Professor Quirrell, I'm really sorry, but I must be going. Thank you for your kind offer. I'll visit your office another time," Dyroth said hurriedly, turning to leave.


"Mr. Grindelwald," a cold, familiar voice rang out, "shouldn't you be in bed instead of sneaking around like a reckless Gryffindor?"


Dyroth's eyes lit up. For the first time, he was genuinely glad to hear Professor Snape's voice.


Quirrell, visibly frustrated, glanced toward the approaching Potions Master, before turning back to Dyroth, his interest undiminished.


"Until we meet again, Mr. Grindelwald," Quirrell said with a thin smile. "I trust you won't refuse my invitation next time."


"Of course, Professor," Dyroth replied smoothly, his confidence restored with Snape's arrival.


Facing Snape, Dyroth adopted a neutral expression. "Professor Snape, I was just heading back to the Slytherin common room."


"Out for a late-night snack, were we?" Snape sneered, his dark eyes narrowing. "Perhaps Madam Pomfrey's calming draught would suit you better."


"Congratulations, Mr. Grindelwald. Thanks to your 'brave' behavior, you've earned yourself a week's detention. Five points from Slytherin."


Dyroth bowed his head, giving nothing away. "Understood, Professor. I'll report to Mr. Filch tomorrow night."


"Now, back to bed!" Snape barked.


"Yes, Professor," Dyroth replied, his expression composed as he walked away. Behind him, Snape and Quirrell exchanged tense words.


...


In the Headmaster's Office:


Dumbledore sat on a couch, fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest. His face was creased with worry.


He had been troubled ever since hearing about Ron Weasley's behavior earlier that day. Ron was meant to be Harry Potter's loyal companion, someone to guide and support him in the coming trials against Voldemort. Yet, so far, Ron had proven to be far from dependable.


Mistakes in Potions class could be overlooked, but the events in Flying class were concerning. If Ron's jealousy and impulsiveness rubbed off on Harry, how could he be expected to grow into the hero the wizarding world needed?


As Dumbledore mused over his concerns, the stone gargoyle at the entrance opened, and Snape swept in.


"Severus, you're here," Dumbledore greeted, his voice weary.


Snape's dark cloak billowed behind him as he crossed the room. "Quirrell had a run-in with Mr. Grindelwald tonight."


Dumbledore's eyes sharpened, and he straightened in his chair. "What happened?"


"I believe it was a coincidence," Snape replied. "Dyroth seemed rather disinterested in the encounter, perhaps even repelled."


Dumbledore frowned. "Could he have sensed something?"


"It's possible," Snape admitted. "Dyroth's skill in Occlumency is impressive, even at his age. It's not unthinkable that he could resist Voldemort's Legilimency in his current state."


Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Severus, I need you to keep an eye on him."


Snape's face twisted into a sneer. "Our esteemed Headmaster, requesting surveillance on an eleven-year-old boy?"


"It's not surveillance," Dumbledore corrected softly. "Just pay more attention to him. He's remarkably close to Harry, and I don't want any… complications."


Snape's expression hardened. "Mr. Grindelwald is far from the reckless fool Harry or Weasley are."


Dumbledore met his gaze evenly. "I trust him, Severus. But we cannot afford any mistakes in Harry's development. He is Lily's only child, and like her, he has those same emerald green eyes."


Snape's jaw tightened, and his body stiffened slightly.


"Severus, you know what's at stake. We must ensure Harry has a perfect environment to grow."


Snape remained silent for a long moment before turning sharply and leaving the office.


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Advanced chapters: [ patreon.com/false_truth ]


Chapter.50 had been published on patreon already

 

[Shaedy Hoe]

As Dyroth was thinking, Professor McGonagall called out Neville's name.


"Neville Longbottom!"

Click to shrink...

The sorting is alphabetical and L comes after G in the alphabet.

As Draco, Pansy, Ron, and others were sorted, the climax of Dyroth's first confrontation with Dumbledore arrived.

Click to shrink...

Again, G comes before M, P and W.

"Arrow Shooting Spell!"

Click to shrink...

Thats not how spells work in Harry Potter. Most of the spells in the story use pig latin, or some other ancient language for their incantations.

But what she didn't expect was that Dyroth's skills weren't limited to magic!

Click to shrink...

Charms. Transfiguration is still a form of magic so that sentence wouldn't make sense.

Totalus Protego (Level 2),

Click to shrink...

*Protego Totallum

"Draco, Goyle, Crabbe and I will go sit at the back and take a nap," Draco yawned as he spoke to Dyroth. Many Slytherin first-years were just like him, having stayed up chatting in the dormitory the previous night.

Click to shrink...

*Dyroth

Story could benefit from some more proofreading.

 

[false_truth]

The sorting is alphabetical and L comes after G in the alphabet.



Again, G comes before M, P and W.



Thats not how spells work in Harry Potter. Most of the spells in the story use pig latin, or some other ancient language for their incantations.



Charms. Transfiguration is still a form of magic so that sentence wouldn't make sense.



*Protego Totallum



*Dyroth

Story could benefit from some more proofreading.

Click to shrink...

I will edit these and thanks for pointing them, you are amazing

 

[Shaedy Hoe]

I will edit these and thanks for pointing them, you are amazing

Click to shrink...

 

[false_truth]

...


In a professor's dormitory...


"Master, I don't understand why you are so interested in Grindelwald," Quirrell muttered nervously. "His father—"


"It's not your place to question me!" A cold, venomous voice interrupted him, reverberating through Quirrell's mind.


Immediately, excruciating pain surged through his body, sending him crashing to the ground. He writhed in agony, scraping his fingers raw against the cold stone floor.


"Master, I beg your forgiveness! I was wrong, please—"


"Let today be the last time you question my orders," Voldemort's raspy voice hissed from the back of Quirrell's head, full of malice.


Quirrell's body quivered as he fought to stand, clutching the wall for support, his robes drenched in sweat. "When is the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class with him?" Voldemort asked sharply.


"Who?" Quirrell asked before realizing his mistake. His breath caught as pain once again gripped him.


"I... I understand, Master! Grindelwald's next class is the day after tomorrow!"


"The day after tomorrow... Prepare the potion. I will test his abilities myself. Do not fail me." Voldemort's voice was low and dangerous.


"Yes, Master! I will make the preparations," Quirrell said, trembling. His mind raced with plans to carry out Voldemort's orders, desperate to please his dark master.


...


Back in the Slytherin dormitory...


Dyroth was lying in bed, the sound of the system's prompt ringing in his mind.


[Ding! Achievement unlocked: "Night Walker.]


[Reward: 50 achievement points.]


"At least the achievement points make this trouble worthwhile," Dyroth muttered to himself. The memory of his near encounter with Voldemort sent a chill through him. The fact that Voldemort had used Legilimency was alarming. It showed how much stronger he was.


"I need to be more careful," Dyroth thought. "The days of easy-going Hogwarts life are over."


The encounter with Quirrell had put him on high alert. He knew now that Voldemort had taken an interest in him. His own magic power wasn't enough to handle such threats—not yet. He needed to grow stronger, fast. "I can't afford to be careless anymore."


With these thoughts swirling in his head, Dyroth formulated a plan to accelerate his growth before finally drifting off to sleep.


...


The next day...


Still feeling tired from last night, Dyroth dragged himself into the Great Hall. As soon as he sat down, he overheard students talking about the upcoming joint Herbology class. Due to the injuries from the previous day's Potions class, all four houses were scheduled to attend Herbology together.


Hermione practically skipped over to him, her excitement bubbling over. "Come on, Dyroth! It's our first class together!" she exclaimed, pulling him toward the greenhouses.


Inside the Herbology classroom, the earthy scent of soil and fertilizer hung thick in the air. Professor Sprout stood at the front, wearing her signature khaki robes and patched hat, smiling warmly at the students.


"Quiet down, everyone!" Professor Sprout called out. "I know you're excited about your first lesson together, but let's focus. Today, we will start with a special plant."


She wheeled out a large box from the corner of the classroom, and the students craned their necks to see. Inside, dark green vines writhed and swayed like living tendrils.


"Now, can anyone tell me what plant this is?" she asked.


Hermione's hand shot up instantly. "Miss Granger?" Professor Sprout nodded.


"It's a crab claw plant, Professor!"


"A crab claw, yes..." Professor Sprout smiled. "But can anyone else offer a different answer?" Her gaze fell on Dyroth, her eyes glinting with expectation. "Mr. Grindelwald?"


Dyroth studied the vines carefully, noting their long, dark tendrils and the way they seemed to recoil slightly from the sunlight streaming in through the window. "It looks like a crab claw plant, but..."


He walked to the window and pulled back the curtains, letting in more sunlight. Immediately, the tendrils recoiled, shrinking away from the light and curling tightly in the corner of the box. "No," Dyroth said confidently. "This is a devil's snare, disguised as a crab claw plant."


Professor Sprout beamed. "Excellent observation, Mr. Grindelwald! Five points to Slytherin!"


Hermione, standing beside him, looked momentarily deflated but quickly regained her composure. "Humph! You may have gotten this one, but I won't lose next time!" she huffed playfully, nudging him.


The class continued, with Professor Sprout explaining the dangers of devil's snare and how to deal with it. She praised Dyroth for his quick thinking and careful observation, using him as an example for the rest of the class.


Later, she moved on to the next plant. Hermione was quick to raise her hand before anyone else had the chance. "It's a bubotuber, Professor! The pus is useful for curing acne!"


"Excellent answer, Miss Granger! Five points to Ravenclaw!"


And so the lesson went on, with Hermione and Dyroth taking turns answering every question. By the end of the class, Professor Sprout couldn't help but chuckle. "If this were a test, both Miss Granger and Mr. Grindelwald would receive an Outstanding!" she said with admiration.


(Outstanding was one of the three passing grades, out of six grades overall, in the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, and Wizards' Ordinary Magic and Basic Aptitude Tests. It was the highest mark possible, immediately above 'Exceeds Expectations')


As the students packed up their things, Dyroth noticed Harry had barely paid attention throughout the lesson. He sighed quietly. "You could feed him everything, and he'd still refuse to chew,"


Dyroth thought. Without Hermione's help, Harry's future seemed more uncertain than ever.





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Advanced chapters:


patreon.com/false_truth

 

[false_truth]

...


Hermione beamed with satisfaction after Professor Sprout's compliment. All the books she had memorized in the past few days were finally paying off. She looked at Dyroth with a proud glint in her eye.


Professor Sprout, having covered the basic knowledge, clapped her hands to regain the class's attention. "Now, I'm going to teach you how to handle its roots. Be careful! If the juice from these roots gets on your hands, it'll make you itch for days. Make sure you wear your gloves!"


After everyone followed her instructions, Professor Sprout handed each student a jumping root. "Well done, everyone. Now, gently pick up the base of the root. Be cautious—they're very sensitive and can spring out of your hand with the slightest pressure."


Dyroth, having dealt with many magical plants while grinding for achievements in the past, handled the root with ease. For Hermione, however, it was a different story. Despite her extensive reading, she had never had any practical experience handling such plants.


As soon as Hermione grasped the root, it started to jump violently in her hands. "Ah!" she shrieked, nearly tossing it away.


"Don't panic, Hermione. Relax," came Dyroth's calm voice from behind her. His words carried a certain calmness, helping her to regain composure.


"Yes, gently—like you're handling a small animal. Now, place it in the flowerpot and cover it with soil."


With trembling hands, Hermione managed to place the root in the pot and cover it with earth. She let out a relieved sigh.


"Thank you, Dyroth!" she said, her voice filled with gratitude.


"You're welcome," Dyroth replied casually.


Hermione gazed at him, her eyes sparkling with admiration. She snapped out of her daze after a moment, her expression turning somber.


"Dyroth, am I... am I stupid?" she asked, looking down.


"Because of what happened just now?" Dyroth asked. Hermione didn't deny it, simply lowering her head further.


Dyroth chuckled and met her eyes. "Hermione, everyone has something they're not good at. You can't let one small shortcoming overshadow all your strengths. Remember, you're a brilliant, wise Ravenclaw. When you face a problem, think about how to solve it, rather than worrying about it. Besides, this is your first time handling plants in a practical lesson—it's perfectly normal to struggle at first."


Dyroth's words clearly worked, as Hermione's disappointment faded and she smiled again.


"I understand, Dyroth!" she said brightly.


"Good, wise Ravenclaw witch," Dyroth grinned.


...


After Herbology, Hermione and the Patil twins invited Dyroth to the library, but he politely declined. He had other plans for the evening—namely, preparing for his meeting with Hagrid. Dyroth thought it best to speak with him ahead of time, especially with all the dangerous magical creatures lurking in the Forbidden Forest. Werewolves, hippogriffs, and Hagrid's secret pet, Aragog—the danger level of that acromantula was on par with a dragon!


Dyroth didn't trust Hagrid's easygoing nature to keep him safe with just a word, so he made his way to the half-giant's hut. Outside, Hagrid was mixing something in a giant barrel. To Dyroth, the barrel looked no different from a washbasin in Hagrid's massive hands.


Seeing Dyroth approach, Hagrid set his tools down and greeted him cheerfully. "Dyroth, there yeh are! Come in, come in. Don't worry about tonight's detention, I'll take good care of yeh."


"Thanks, Hagrid. That's a relief to hear," Dyroth replied, following him inside.


The interior of Hagrid's hut surprised Dyroth. A blanket made from unicorn fur, holly wood chairs, and a collection of rare materials—unicorn horns, broken Bowtruckle branches, and various magical creature parts—were piled up haphazardly like rubbish. It was like Hagrid was guarding a treasure trove!


Noticing Dyroth's stare, Hagrid misinterpreted it. "I'm sorry 'bout the mess," he said, scratching his head sheepishly. "Not many people visit me here, so it's a bit chaotic."


Dyroth shook his head. "You misunderstood, Hagrid. I'm just amazed by all the magical materials you've gathered."


"Oh, these?" Hagrid shrugged. "I pick 'em up when I patrol the Forbidden Forest. Been collectin' 'em for years. If yeh want any of 'em, just say the word!"


To Hagrid, these materials were common, but Dyroth knew their real value. "Thanks, Hagrid. That's generous of you," Dyroth said as he took a seat.


Hagrid happily offered his signature rock cakes, placing them on the table. "Here, have a rock cake! I made 'em meself. Bet you'll love 'em!"


Dyroth attempted to pick one up, but it slipped from his hand and hit the plate. With a loud crack, the plate shattered, but the rock cake remained intact, making a metallic clang. Dyroth couldn't help but wonder if the issue was liking the cakes—or being able to bite into them at all!


Quickly shifting the conversation, Dyroth eyed the magical animal materials scattered around the hut and asked, "By the way, Hagrid, what do you usually do with the materials you bring back from the Forbidden Forest?"


Hagrid's face grew sour. "Sometimes I keep 'em, but mostly I sell 'em in Diagon Alley. Trouble is, those pureblood merchants are all a bunch o' vampires. They offer me nothin' but lowball prices."


Dyroth's eyes brightened with an idea. "Hagrid, how about this? From now on, I'll buy any materials you don't need—at market price."


Hagrid's reaction was immediate. He hugged Dyroth tightly. "Dyroth, you're a lifesaver! Yeh don't know how much they've been rippin' me off! Not even offerin' me half the value."


"Don't worry, Hagrid. I'll give you fair prices, and I promise not to lower them on purpose. We're friends, after all," Dyroth assured him with a smile, all the while knowing just how valuable Hagrid's materials were. Even at market price, the items were worth a fortune.


After sorting out the details, Hagrid insisted on Dyroth staying for lunch, and later in the afternoon, Dyroth spent time studying in the library with Hermione. As night fell, Dyroth had a quick bite in the Great Hall before heading to Filch's office for detention.


Upon arriving, he found the office unlocked, with no one there except Mrs. Norris, Filch's infamous cat, lounging on the desk.


"Filch really doesn't know how to care for a cat," Dyroth muttered to himself. "She's all skin and bones, and her fur's a mess."


Taking out a piece of fried fish he had brought from the hall, Dyroth placed it in front of Mrs. Norris. "Hello again, Mrs. Norris."


Mrs. Norris eyed the fish warily before cautiously picking it up. Meanwhile, Dyroth used a bit of magic to clean the dirt from her fur, gently stroking her back.


Just as Mrs. Norris began to relax and enjoy her meal, an angry voice echoed from down the hall.


"Get away from my Mrs. Norris! What've you done to her?!" came Filch's furious shout.


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Advanced chapters


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[false_truth]

...


Filch roared and rushed toward Dyroth the moment he saw Mrs. Norris.


He was Stunned!


"My Mrs. Norris has turned out to be so beautiful!"


He could hardly believe that the cat, which had been with him for years, seemed to have completely transformed in just a few minutes. If it weren't for Mrs. Norris's familiar dark green pupils, Filch might have thought that Dyroth had brought a different pet from outside.


"Mr. Filch, Mrs. Norris is indeed a beautiful cat," Dyroth said.


"You... what did you call me?" Filch asked, suspecting his ears were deceiving him.


He had been at Hogwarts for so long, and apart from the endless stream of unpleasant nicknames, no student had ever called him anything else. Even the professors only addressed him out of formality, not from genuine respect.


But Dyroth was different. There was no disdain or contempt in his eyes. He looked at Filch with the same respect he showed to other wizards. For the first time, Filch felt the respect he'd always yearned for but never experienced.


"Mr. Filch, if you're uncomfortable with this title, I can change it to something else," Dyroth offered.


"No, no, no! This is perfect!" Filch quickly shook his head, terrified that Dyroth might start calling him the same ridiculous nicknames the other students did.


"Good," Dyroth smiled. "As for Mrs. Norris, I suggest you pay more attention to her hygiene. If you can, try giving her more fish."


Dyroth had raised cats before in his previous life, so he knew a thing or two about their care. He had originally considered suggesting that Mrs. Norris be vaccinated and fed nutritious cat food, but remembering that this was the wizarding world, he decided to stick with more practical advice.


Filch was silent for a moment before nodding. "I'll pay attention."


He retrieved an oil lamp from his office, scooped up Mrs. Norris, and said, "Let's go, I'll take you to the Forbidden Forest."


Seeing the thin wizard robe Dyroth wore, Filch hesitated for a moment and spoke stiffly. "The Forbidden Forest is not the castle. You'd better go back and wear more clothes. Hagrid's an experienced guard, but there are no guarantees."


"Thank you for the reminder, Mr. Filch, but I've already dressed warmly under my robe," Dyroth replied with a smile, acknowledging the man's concern.


Filch escorted Dyroth all the way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Hagrid was already waiting.


Seeing them approach, Hagrid waved the lamp in his hand. "Hey Dyroth, over here!"


"Go on," Filch said. Only after Dyroth reached Hagrid did he return to the castle with Mrs. Norris.


The Forbidden Forest was thick with fog that night. The twisted trees seemed to move of their own accord, and strange noises echoed from deep within. The occasional roar from the forest's depths was even more unsettling.


"Woof, woof!"


Dyroth turned to see a large dog sniffing around him.


"Don't worry, that's Fang! He may be small, but he's a great helper!" Hagrid reassured him. "We'll just be patrolling the perimeter. The creatures inside don't like to be disturbed."


Dyroth looked at Hagrid and understood why he saw Fang as small.


Hagrid led the way, his large frame completely blocking Dyroth's view of the path ahead. Dyroth was content to follow along in silence, reassured that there had been no signs of unicorn injuries in the forest—proof that Voldemort was still fixated on the Philosopher's Stone.


Without Voldemort's presence, this trip seemed far safer.


"Be careful, Dyroth," Hagrid warned. "The path here's a bit tricky."


Just as he finished speaking, a strange noise came from a tree on the left. Fang, who had been trotting ahead, whimpered and scurried behind Hagrid. The atmosphere grew tense.


Hagrid, who had just praised Fang's bravery, awkwardly cleared his throat. "Fang's just a bit timid."


He approached the tree that had made the noise, while Dyroth drew his wand, alert.


"Dyroth, come look at this!" Hagrid called excitedly. "It's a Mooncalf!"


Mooncalves! What a lucky find! Dyroth quickly joined him.


Several pairs of large, light-green eyes blinked at them from the shadows.


"Look at those beautiful little creatures!" Hagrid marveled. "Too bad I didn't bring any tools—if you collect their droppings before sunrise, they make plants grow taller and stronger."


When it came to magical creatures, Hagrid's passion was evident, and he patiently explained everything to Dyroth. "They're very shy and only come out during a full moon."


"Let's not disturb them. We'll finish our patrol and head back."


Hagrid dusted himself off, and they continued their patrol through the foggy forest. The rest of the journey was peaceful, with Hagrid in the lead and Fang clearing the way.


"Hagrid, don't you get bored patrolling the Forbidden Forest alone?" Dyroth asked, trying to break the silence.


"I did at first," Hagrid admitted. "But over time, I got used to it. The forest's full of cute little creatures to keep me company."


Dyroth sometimes felt a pang of sympathy for Hagrid. As a half-giant, he didn't fit in with giants, and wizards were often unwilling to accept him. After finally finding a place at Hogwarts, he had been framed by Voldemort and expelled. With his parents gone and his only brother, Grawp, still unable to communicate, Hagrid's life seemed lonely. No wonder he was so pleased when Dyroth visited.


Time passed quickly, and soon their patrol was over. As they headed back to the castle, Hagrid sighed, "I wish you could come with me every day."


Dyroth smiled. "If I were in detention every day, Professor Snape would have a fit."


"That's not what I meant!" Hagrid chuckled.


"I know. I'll try to spend more time with you when I can."


Just as they were about to leave the forest, the sound of rapid footsteps came from behind them. It didn't sound like any ordinary creature.


Hagrid instinctively moved to shield Dyroth, while Dyroth drew his wand, ready for action.


The figure approaching slowly came into view—a centaur, with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a horse.


"It's you, Firenze," Hagrid sighed with relief, patting Dyroth on the shoulder. "No need to worry."


Firenze, one of the few centaurs who didn't hold a grudge against wizards, lowered his bow and greeted them. "Hello, little wizard," he said kindly.


Hagrid introduced them. "This is Dyroth Grindelwald, a friend of mine."


"Hello," Dyroth said politely.


Firenze's sapphire eyes locked onto Dyroth. "I'm here because of him."


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20-30 Advanced chapters at: patreon.com/false_truth

 

[false_truth]

...


"Dyroth?"


Hagrid looked puzzled. "This is his first time in the Forbidden Forest. Why are you looking for him?"


"The guidance of the stars," Firenze replied, his eyes never leaving Dyroth.


Dyroth looked confused.


"The stars tell me that a distinguished guest will come to the Forbidden Forest tonight. I've been waiting here for a long time."


Astrology?


Dyroth became intrigued. His left eye, inherited from Grindelwald, granted him the prophetic ability to glimpse the future. However, unlike his ancestor, he couldn't foresee events decades ahead. His power was limited to a few seconds, at great physical cost. Comparing this to astrology, he realized that the centaur's method of prophecy, while less precise, might hold wisdom worth exploring.


"Did the stars only see me coming?" Dyroth asked.


"Of course not," Firenze said, stepping closer, his long platinum hair flowing. If not for his lower half being a horse, he could have easily passed as a strikingly handsome man.


"Through the stars, I saw that the fate of the centaurs is about to change. If Mr. Grindelwald is willing, please allow me to take you to the place where centaurs and unicorns live. There, I will tell you the full prophecy."


"A place where centaurs and unicorns live?" Hagrid gasped, rubbing his palms with excitement. "Unicorn gathering place! Oh my! Can you take me too, Firenze? You know how much I love unicorns."


"I'm sorry, Hagrid," Firenze shook his head. "Centaurs do not welcome other intelligent races, including giants. But if the opportunity arises, I will introduce you to some unicorns."


"Mr. Grindelwald, please follow me," Firenze gestured, but before he could finish, an arrow shot through the air, landing between Firenze and Dyroth.


"Firenze, you traitor!" a red-haired centaur appeared, bow in hand, his eyes blazing with fury. "Centaurs do not welcome wizards! Not only do you share prophecies with him, but you also lead him to our sacred grounds? I will report this to the tribe, and you will be exiled from the Forbidden Forest!"


"Mr. Centaur, I suggest you lower your bow," Dyroth said, his voice calm but laced with warning.


"Get out, little wizard!" the red-bearded centaur snarled, stomping the ground and raising a cloud of dust.


Without hesitation, Dyroth raised his wand. "Expelliarmus!"


The force of the spell was immense, far beyond the standard level. The red-bearded centaur flew back as if struck by a missile, slamming into a tree and dropping his bow. Blood trickled from his mouth, a visible dent forming on his chest.


"Mr. Grindelwald, wait!" Firenze exclaimed. "Ronan didn't mean to attack you!"


Dyroth's face remained expressionless. "I didn't intend to kill him, just teaching


him a lesson," he explained to Hagrid, who had been watching in stunned silence.


Hagrid quickly grabbed Dyroth by the shoulders. "Calm down, Dyroth! He just wanted to scare you."


Dyroth sighed. "I suppose our visit to the centaur settlement will have to wait, Firenze. Once your tribe has settled its differences, you may invite me again."


With that, Dyroth turned to leave, Hagrid hesitating before following him. "I'll take Dyroth back to the dormitory. Let me know if anything happens."


As the pair disappeared into the trees, Ronan groaned in Firenze's arms. "Don't touch me, traitor."


Firenze applied some medicine to Ronan's wounds. "He is the one from the prophecy, Ronan."


"But he's a wizard! How can we trust him?" Ronan coughed, nearly spitting more blood.


"This is destiny's path, regardless of race."


"I'll never follow a wizard," Ronan muttered defiantly.


Back at Hogwarts, Dyroth found himself regretting not staying for a late-night snack with Hagrid. He was hungry but considering the trouble he got into the previous night, he decided to let it go.


As he walked through the castle, a notification rang in his mind.


[Congratulations! You've completed your first Forbidden Forest patrol. Achievement unlocked: Forbidden Forest Guard. Reward: 50 points.]


"Better than nothing," Dyroth muttered, making his way back to the Slytherin common room.


Inside, Draco stood on a platform, boasting to a crowd of Slytherins about his "heroic" confrontation with Ron Weasley during flying lessons. Seeing Dyroth enter, Draco flashed a smug grin, continuing to embellish his tale.


Dyroth shook his head with a small smile. "Alright, Draco, you can stop. Falling into the grass toughens the skin, ha" he teased lightly before heading to his dormitory.


The last two days had been exhausting, and without bothering to change, Dyroth fell into a deep sleep.


The next morning, Dyroth dragged himself to breakfast, still feeling the weight of the previous night.


"Dyroth, didn't sleep well?" Draco asked, flanked by Goyle and Crabbe.


"I had a rough night," Dyroth mumbled, not in the mood for small talk.


"Well, good news! First class today is Defense Against the Dark Arts," Draco said, grinning. "Professor Quirrell's lessons are so boring, you can practically sleep through them."


"What did you say?" Dyroth suddenly sat up straight. "The first class is... Defense Against the Dark Arts?"


Quirrell? The same Quirrell who had Voldemort on the back of his head?


Panic set in as Dyroth remembered his recent encounter with Voldemort. "Draco, if I told professor Snape I caught a cold last night in the Forbidden Forest, do you think he would let me skip class?"


Before Draco could answer, a dark, cold voice interrupted.


"Or maybe... I should twist your head off for even thinking of such an idea."


Dyroth turned slowly to find Snape standing right behind him.


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"Dyroth?, why is he sitting in the back row?"


"It goes without saying, Professor Quirrell only knows how to read from textbooks, and he can't even do that well. Who wants to listen?"


"I really don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, hiring a loser like him as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."


Dyroth stayed silent, listening to the conversations around him but not offering an explanation. Seated quietly in the back row, he picked up a book and placed it in front of himself, knowing that Quirrell wasn't as simple as he appeared.


Once an exceptional student from Ravenclaw, Quirrell had a strong desire to explore magic, even daring to venture into the Dark Forest alone. If he were truly incompetent, Voldemort wouldn't have chosen him as a host. His timid persona at Hogwarts was merely a method to cover for Voldemort.


The classroom filled quickly, but with students avoiding the front rows as if they were public university classes. Quirrell's reputation wasn't great, so most students squeezed toward the back, leaving the front empty. Latecomers had no choice but to settle in the middle, grumbling under their breath.


The strong smell of garlic preceded Quirrell's entrance, instantly sparking coughs throughout the room. Quirrell smiled awkwardly as he approached the podium.


"Take out...our textbook, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection," he stammered. "Turn...turn to the first page."


His words dragged, wasting several seconds of class time. He began lecturing on Puffskeins, harmless magical creatures rated XX by the Ministry of Magic, far from dangerous. Despite their harmlessness, Quirrell fumbled through the lesson, reading from the textbook with little structure. Even something as simple as Puffskeins, which some wizards kept as pets, became confusing under his disjointed lecture.


At first, Dyroth wondered why no one bothered listening to Quirrell. Now, it became clear—no one could follow his lesson.


As Quirrell droned on, he attempted to engage the students with a few questions, but no one paid him any mind, leaving him visibly uncomfortable.


Suddenly, a voice rasped in Quirrell's mind. "Give me your body!"


An overwhelming force overtook him. His eyes shifted, and his demeanor changed instantly. No longer aimlessly reading from the textbook, Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort—began to stroll around the classroom with interest.


Dyroth, who had been watching Quirrell closely, was alarmed. He lowered his head, hoping to avoid attention.


Voldemort snapped his book shut with a soft click. The sound wasn't loud, but it drew the attention of everyone in the room.


"If textbooks bore you, let's try something different." Voldemort casually took out his wand, enjoying the wide-eyed attention of the students. He had always longed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts but had been denied by Dumbledore.


"Put down your textbooks and take out your wands," Voldemort instructed.


With a wave of his wand, all the textbooks in the room closed and slid off the desks in unison, leaving the students in awe. Voldemort reveled in their reaction, moving around the room as though delivering a grand speech.


"To learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, you must first understand what dark magic is!"


Several students, captivated by his earlier display of magic, eagerly raised their hands. Voldemort smiled. "There's no need to raise hands in my class. Just speak your mind."


"Dark magic is any magic that harms people!" one student ventured.


"Magic without counter-curses is dark magic!" added another.


"Dark wizards use dark magic!" chimed a third.


The answers flowed, but they were all oversimplified. Voldemort listened patiently before turning his gaze to Dyroth.


"Mr. Grindelwald, what do you think?"


Dyroth narrowed his eyes slightly, preparing a generic response. But then, Voldemort spoke again.


"With your vast knowledge, surely you can give us a more insightful answer. I'm certain you wouldn't refuse an opportunity to earn points for your house, right?"


Dyroth mentally cursed. The old fox had set him up! Using house points to pressure him, Voldemort had skillfully cornered him. In previous classes, Dyroth had consistently shown his intellectual prowess. If he answered casually now, the other Slytherins would see it as him not caring about the house's reputation—a blow to his image.


Reluctantly, Dyroth stood up, considering his answer.


"The nature of dark magic depends on the caster's intent—whether it is used with malice. For example..."


He pointed his wand at the podium. "Aguamenti!"


Several streams of water gushed forth, pooling at Voldemort's feet.


"Aguamenti is a simple water spell, commonly seen as harmless. But if the water continues to flow unchecked, it could drown a person. In that sense, any spell cast with ill intent could be considered dark magic."


"A unique perspective," Voldemort remarked, clearly impressed.


Voldemort had expected Dyroth to recite textbook knowledge or summarize the other students' answers. Instead, Dyroth had offered something original, which surprised even him.


"Mr. Grindelwald, please sit down. Five points to Slytherin for your perfect answer!" Voldemort flicked his wrist, and the water vanished, showcasing his impressive wandless and silent spellcasting, which once again stirred excitement among the students.


"As Mr. Grindelwald said, magic used with malicious intent can become dark magic. However, to most, dark magic is typically divided into three categories. Mr. Grindelwald?"


"The three main types of dark magic are jinxes, hexes, and curses," Dyroth replied. "Curses are the most dangerous, jinxes are the least harmful, and hexes fall somewhere in between."


"Excellent!" Voldemort said approvingly, his tone growing colder. "But you've forgotten one category... the Unforgivable Curses."


He turned sharply to face Harry.


"Mr. Potter!" Voldemort's voice echoed in the silent room. "Can you tell us what the Unforgivable Curses are?"


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