Hogwarts: Chill, I'm Not That Riddle-Chapter 494: Challenge Mad-Eye Moody

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The Summoning Charm looked simple on the surface. You were just pulling an object from one place to another. It didn’t seem that different from the Levitation Charm.

In reality, though, it had already crossed the threshold into advanced magic.

It was one of the core spells fourth-years were expected to master, and a required component of the O.W.L. exams.

Just like Professor Flitwick had said, the spell demanded intense concentration. You had to construct a three-dimensional image in your mind: the object’s size, its exact location, the route it would take as it flew toward you.

You had to visualize the space while staying completely focused. For most students, that was brutal.

By the end of the first class, not a single student had successfully cast it. The best anyone managed was getting their target to wobble into the air. Parkinson’s attempt trembled midair for a few seconds before dropping weakly back to the floor.

Professor Flitwick wasn’t angry. He patiently pointed out their mistakes and explained where they were going wrong.

Mastering the Summoning Charm itself wasn’t the true goal. What mattered was learning this higher-level casting method, training focus and mental discipline, pushing their willpower up a notch to prepare for more advanced magic in the future.

Flitwick had no intention of rushing them. He planned to spend weeks developing their foundation. Not that he wouldn’t teach other spells in the meantime, but the Summoning Charm would remain the core focus.

Still, something happened mid-class that genuinely irritated him.

Draco Malfoy had tried to fake it, using the Levitation Charm to imitate a Summoning Charm and pass it off as success. When Flitwick caught him, he did something rare. He docked twenty points from Slytherin in one go.

"Class!"

The tiny professor climbed atop a stack of books to address them, his expression unusually stern.

"I can accept many shortcomings. I understand slow progress. But deception is not one of them."

"Failing to learn is not a crime. Relying on clever tricks will never help you improve. It will only leave you further and further behind your classmates."

Draco looked like he wanted to bury his head in the floor. The only silver lining was that Potter and Weasley weren’t in this class. Otherwise, he would never hear the end of it.

"Very well," Flitwick said after a moment, softening slightly. "Continue practicing."

---

At the same time, in the Headmaster’s office.

Albus Dumbledore sat across from Alastor Moody. The old headmaster sipped tea. The former Auror drank liquor.

"Did you sleep well last night, Alastor?"

"Decently enough. Two pints of vodka did the trick. Still, I’m not young anymore. Woke up at six."

Dumbledore gave a wry smile. He knew that was a complaint.

A man as chronically distrustful as Moody would never truly rest in an unfamiliar place. The question had been pointless.

"You’ll get used to it. You might try relaxing a little. It’s a school, after all. Safer than most places."

"Relax?" Moody snorted. "A former Death Eater and a little dark prodigy walking around under my nose. And before long, an even bigger problem will show up. Dumbledore, how do you sleep at night?"

"Alastor, Severus did serve Voldemort once. But before Voldemort vanished, he came over to my side and provided invaluable information."

Dumbledore’s blue eyes were steady as he set down his teacup.

"I trust him, just as I trust you. And I hope the members of the Order can trust Severus as they trust me."

Moody gave a harsh laugh. "Albus, your trust comes cheap. Mine comes dear. Even if you vouch for him, I won’t lower my guard."

"You have a year to change your mind," Dumbledore said quietly.

Then his tone shifted, edged with warning.

"As for Tom... Alastor, this is for your own good, and for the good of the wizarding world."

"I understand," Moody said, his voice rough. "Talented. Calculating. Ruthless. You don’t want to forge a new Dark Lord more dangerous than Voldemort. But Albus... you’re getting more cautious with each passing day."

Dumbledore didn’t argue.

Moody wasn’t wrong. He had grown more cautious. But what choice did he have?

If he charged ahead recklessly, who else would stand against the shadows gathering in the wizarding world? There wasn’t a spare Dumbledore waiting in reserve in case he died.

He had invited Moody here because the situation ahead was complicated. Gellert Grindelwald was already enough to occupy much of his attention. Between restraining his old friend and dealing with visiting professors and students from other schools, his focus would inevitably stretch thin.

He needed Moody’s sharp instincts for dark magic and conspiracy.

He just couldn’t have Moody turning that suspicion inward and missing the real threats.

Even though, Moody had grown more paranoid over the years, at least he still listened to reason.

"Alastor, I doubt you came here just to complain," Dumbledore said, glancing at the clock on the wall. The time of his appointment with Tom was drawing closer. He moved the conversation along.

"Of course not. I’m a professor now." Moody bared his teeth in something like a grin. "Surveillance is my hobby. Teaching’s my day job."

"I have some ideas about the curriculum."

"Oh?" Dumbledore leaned back slightly. "And what did you have in mind?"

"I plan to teach them something real."

Moody ran a scarred, bark-like hand over his face and let out a low chuckle.

"Lupin did fairly well last term. And that Wilkinson before him. They at least taught the students that a wand isn’t for poking each other. But that’s not enough."

"They need to know what kind of scum their enemies really are. Dark magic. Traps. Conspiracies. Betrayal. None of that’s in the textbooks. I’ll show them what war actually looks like."

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Alastor... isn’t that a bit early?"

"Early?" Moody raised his voice sharply. "When they’re in danger, that’s when it’s too late. Albus, you asked me to come here because you sensed something was wrong. What you need are wizards, not flowers raised in a greenhouse."

Dumbledore didn’t answer right away, hesitation returning to his face.

Suddenly, he glanced toward the door. His expression shifted, turning resigned.

"Alastor, I’ll give it serious thought. Wait a little longer. I’ll give you an answer tonight."

"Looks like you’ve got company." Moody shot a glance toward the entrance, stood up, and limped toward the stairs. "I won’t intrude."

Outside the headmaster’s office, Tom was in a heated exchange with the gargoyle guarding the entrance.

"You know me," Tom said earnestly. "I’m an outstanding boyfriend. When my girlfriends need me, it’s hard to spare a thought for my bros."

He patted the gargoyle’s stone head like a dog. "You understand, right?"

Over the summer, Tom had done something truly heartless. He hadn’t taken the gargoyle with him when he left Hogwarts, leaving it to guard the door all summer long.

Now that he was back, the gargoyle immediately blocked him and launched into a long, bitter rant.

"What’s so great about women? Bros before hoes, you know!" the gargoyle said, utterly baffled. "Look at me. I’ve guarded this door for a thousand years without a girlfriend..."

"But I need to carry on the Riddle family line," Tom replied seriously. "You can live forever. Humans can’t."

He sighed at just the right moment. "Human lives are too short. Without descendants, our mark on this world disappears quickly. That’s why I need a girlfriend. Why I need to marry and have kids."

The gargoyle wasn’t a true alchemical lifeform. It didn’t really understand sentimentality. Even so, faced with Tom’s Oscar-worthy performance, it fell silent.

"In ten or twenty years, when my son or daughter comes to Hogwarts, they’ll be my continuation," Tom continued smoothly. "You can help look after them. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

"...All right, Riddle." The gargoyle thought it over and found the logic flawless. "I’ll forgive you this time. But this Christmas, you’re taking me out with you."

"Deal!" Tom agreed without hesitation. "No matter where I go this Christmas, you’re coming with me."

The gargoyle nodded happily.

Tom, meanwhile, felt a tiny flicker of guilt.

There was no way he could actually leave Hogwarts this Christmas. Everyone would be here. If he stepped away and things spiraled out of control, and Daphne and Fleur started fighting, they’d probably blow up half the school.

So... taking the gargoyle for a casual walk around campus would have to count.

"Oh, right." Tom suddenly looked up. "I agreed to take you out, but you’re the headmaster’s gatekeeper. Didn’t he look after you at all over the holidays?"

The gargoyle’s face twisted with resentment. "Look after me? He barely stayed at the school. And every time he showed up, he came with that bird. Never needed me to open the door. The whole holiday, I was stuck miserable!"

"That’s outrageous!" Tom said indignantly. "He’s the headmaster. How can he treat his staff like that?"

"Exactly!" The gargoyle nodded furiously. "Hey, someone inside’s coming out."

It hopped aside.

Moody emerged slowly from the office. When he saw that Dumbledore’s guest was Tom Riddle, surprise flickered across his face.

Tom dropped the easy grin he’d worn while chatting with the gargoyle. His expression went calm and unreadable as he looked Moody up and down, utterly lacking the deference a student should show a professor.

Moody’s magical eye tracked Tom’s gaze.

"Riddle," Moody said, "you seem very interested in me."

Tom nodded slightly. "Yeah. I wanted to see who had the nerve to start taking shots at me the moment they arrived. Do you know whose turf Hogwarts really is?"

Moody went silent.

That was... outrageously arrogant.

"You’re saying Hogwarts is like your turf, not Dumbledore’s?"

"Dumbledore?" Tom snorted. "Go ask him if he even dares raise his voice in front of McGonagall."

Inside the office, Dumbledore listened in and pressed a hand to his forehead.

Some things really didn’t need to be said out loud.

Moody thought it over and had to admit Tom wasn’t wrong. When it came to McGonagall, Dumbledore usually ended up on the weaker side.

"So he doesn’t dare, but you do?" Moody shot back. "Riddle, no matter how talented you are, you’re still a student."

"I don’t dare either," Tom said honestly.

Moody: "..."

Then why say all that?!

Tom stepped aside and pointed toward the Forbidden Forest outside the window. "Care to spar?"

"Fine," Moody said.

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