A Certain Magical Hogwarts

The Nimbus 2000 zipped through the castle, drawing the attention of countless young witches and wizards.

Curiosity is a universal human trait, and wizards were no exception. A crowd of students eagerly followed the broomstick, sprinting toward the castle gates to see where it would lead.

Professor Quirrell stood alone in a corridor. 

Noticing that no one was around, he hastily shed his cumbersome armor. 

The heavy contraption made movement difficult, and he saw this as a good opportunity to sneak into the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor.

But just as he prepared to leave, a loud BANG echoed in the hallway. Quirrell turned sharply to see the Nimbus 2000 zooming around the corner.

The broom's superior maneuverability was on full display as it executed a flawless 90-degree turn without losing speed.

Caught off guard, Quirrell was barely five meters away from the speeding broomstick.

He had never studied physics, so he didn't calculate how quickly the collision would occur or how much force would be exerted. But instinct told him one thing—he couldn't dodge in time.

In that split second, Quirrell's mind went into overdrive. 

His thoughts transported him to his "memory palace," where he assumed the role of a deductive genius like Sherlock Holmes. Hands steepled before his lips, he rapidly analyzed the situation.

There were two options:

-Take the hit with his face, risking disfigurement, a concussion, or even memory loss. How will he accomplush the task of ressurecting the dark lord if that happened?

-Turn and shield himself with the back of his head. He could rely on his unique magical anatomy to absorb the impact and protect his own survival.

But that was the face of the dark lord….

The choice was clear, though painful.

With grim resolve, Quirrell twisted his head, exposing the back of his skull—the very place where Voldemort's face resided.

The broomstick's redwood handle slammed into his scarf-covered head with immense force, sending Quirrell flying forward and sliding over ten meters down the corridor.

A pained howl echoed from deep within Quirrell's soul, reverberating with anguish. 

It wasn't just his pain but Voldemort's as well, a pain that cut straight to the core of their shared existence.

Yet this was only the beginning.

A group of wizards chasing the broomstick came charging down the hallway, their eyes fixed upward, oblivious to Quirrell's crumpled form on the ground.

At the forefront was Professor Snape. As he sprinted past, his foot landed squarely on the back of Quirrell's head.

Hmph! Snape paused briefly, noting the curious sensation underfoot. Something felt off—like stepping on a bundle of cloth or somthing soft with a strange texture.

He considered turning to investigate but decided against it, as the crowd pushed him forward.

Meanwhile, at the Black Lake, the ice surrounding William and his friends had nearly disappeared, while the number of merfolk encircling them had increased.

"Accio broom!" William shouted.

The sharp sound of something cutting through the air broke the tense silence. The Nimbus 2000 shot toward him, stopping abruptly to hover beside him over the water.

William leapt onto the broom, Cedric following close behind. Fred grabbed the broomstick's tail end, while George clung to Fred's legs. With all four aboard, the broom rocketed skyward.

A furious uproar erupted among the merfolk.

The elderly merfolk leader, wielding a massive silver trident, raised his voice in an incantation.

At first, William had thought the trident was merely ornamental. But as the leader chanted, the remaining ice on the lake melted, sending plumes of steam rising into the cold air.

Then, with a single sweep of the trident, the water erupted in massive waves.

"Look out!" William shouted, surging forward on the broom to dodge the crashing waves.

With each swing of the trident, the lake responded violently. Gigantic waves rose as high as five meters, crashing in all directions.

The broom darted and weaved, dodging plumes of water that shot into the sky. William skillfully maneuvered through the chaos, though Fred and George had to cling desperately to their positions.

A crowd of young wizards had gathered on the shore, gasping at the spectacle unfolding before them.

"Serves you right for provoking the merfolk," Snape sneered, though his amusement was undercut by the chaos spreading across the lake.

With every twist and turn, William managed to elude the trident's assaults. 

Finally, the broom soared over the gathered students onshore. The twins waved cheerfully at the crowd below, while Cedric hastily stuffed the mermaid hair he'd collected into his robes, not wanting Snape to confiscate it.

Seeing the group escaping, the elder merfolk snarled. His "daughter's" chance at marriage lost, he plunged his trident into the water. A great column of liquid surged upward before raining down on the shore like a torrential downpour.

The once-bustling lakeside fell silent as water drenched the gathered students. Within moments, everyone was soaked.

Snape, thoroughly drenched, wiped at his slick hair, which now clung to his sallow face. His boots squelched in a growing puddle of dark, oily water pooling around him.

Meanwhile, the four troublemakers retreated to the safety of the castle.

…

"Who would've thought merfolk could be that powerful?" Cedric said as he dried himself off.

It was no wonder Ollivander never used mermaid hair—capturing it was far too dangerous.

"Merfolk aren't typically this strong," William said thoughtfully. "The Ministry of Magic categorizes them as XXXX, similar to trolls. It's likely that the elder's trident is the source of their power. It seems capable of manipulating the Black Lake itself."

Fred's eyes lit up with excitement. "Do you think it's another artifact left by one of the Founders? Like Gryffindor's sword or Ravenclaw's diadem?"

"Could we go back and take a closer look?" George asked.

They had just provoked the mermen and now they were thinking about diving into the bottom of the lake: sure enough. People die when they are killed.

William shook his head, smirking. "There are plenty of ways to explore the lake: Gillyweed, Bubble-Head Charms, or even transforming into an Animagus.

"But the simplest method would be using Gillyweed."

"What's that?" Cedric asked.

"Gillyweed is a rare magical plant, usually found in the Mediterranean. It looks like a bunch of slimy, gray mouse tails. Eating it allows you to grow gills and webbed feet, letting you breathe and swim underwater for over an hour.

"Alternatively, you could use the tentacles of a giant squid to make a diving potion that lasts a week."

"And where would we find these ingredients?" Cedric pressed.

"Snape's storeroom has both," William sighed. "But even if we had them, we wouldn't stand a chance against the trident."

Merfolk couldn't leave the water, but they were unbeatable within their domain. Despite the allure of the artifact, attempting to retrieve it seemed like a fool's errand.

The group decided, reluctantly, to let the matter rest—for now.

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