The passage of time at Hogwarts was marked not by the turning of pages in a calendar, but by the shifting moods of the castle itself. As January gave way to February, the biting cold began to relent, replaced by a damp chill that seeped through the ancient stone walls. For Elias Blackthorn, the changing seasons were mere backdrops to his relentless pursuit of mastery.
Each night, under the cover of darkness, Elias would slip away from the Slytherin dormitory, his movements precise and deliberate. The enchanted ring on his finger ensured that his magical presence remained muted, allowing him to navigate the corridors without drawing unwanted attention. His destination was always the same: the Room of Requirement.
Upon entering, the room would transform to suit his needs—a vast chamber lined with towering bookshelves, an array of dueling dummies, and a central open space for practice. Here, Elias delved into advanced spellwork, pushing himself beyond the standard curriculum. He practiced non-verbal spells, honed his dueling techniques, and experimented with complex charms and hexes. Each session left him both exhausted and exhilarated, the boundaries of his magical abilities expanding with every incantation.
However, Elias was not oblivious to the subtle shifts around him. He had noticed Professor Snape's gaze lingering on him during Potions class, the man's black eyes sharp and searching. Snape's observations were never overt, but Elias could sense the increased scrutiny. It was a delicate game they played—Elias ensuring his public demeanor was that of an unremarkable student, while privately striving for excellence.
Beyond his personal endeavors, the castle buzzed with activity. Harry Potter and his friends seemed to be at the center of numerous incidents that rippled through the student body. Whispers of their nocturnal adventures, confrontations with trolls, and secretive conversations were common. Elias, however, chose to remain detached. Their pursuits, while intriguing, did not align with his own objectives.
Another incident that stirred the school's rumor mill was Hagrid's acquisition of a dragon egg. The gamekeeper's fascination with dangerous creatures was well-known, but harboring a dragon was a bold endeavor, even for him. Elias had overheard snippets of conversations hinting at late-night escapades involving Potter and his friends assisting Hagrid. The culmination of these events led to whispers of detentions served in the Forbidden Forest—a place teeming with both wonder and peril.
Elias's own experiences in the Forbidden Forest were limited but profound. During one of his solitary explorations, he had encountered a scene that would be seared into his memory. The forest was bathed in an eerie silver light, and in a clearing, he observed a hooded figure hunched over the lifeless form of a unicorn. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and something more—a palpable malevolence that sent shivers down his spine.
He remained hidden, his breathing shallow, as the figure drank from the unicorn's wound. Moments later, a centaur emerged, confronting the hooded entity, which swiftly retreated into the shadows. Elias chose not to intervene or reveal himself. The encounter was unsettling, but he understood the importance of patience and observation. There were forces at play within the castle and beyond that he had yet to fully comprehend.
Throughout these events, Elias maintained his routine. His nights were dedicated to rigorous training, while his days were spent attending classes and maintaining the facade of an average student. He engaged minimally with his peers, his interactions calculated to avoid drawing attention. Daphne Greengrass remained a consistent presence, her keen observations occasionally piercing through his carefully constructed exterior. Yet, even with her, Elias was guarded, revealing only what was necessary.
The culmination of the month's events solidified Elias's resolve. The world around him was rife with intrigue, danger, and power struggles. He recognized that to navigate this landscape successfully, he needed to be prepared—not just with knowledge, but with the wisdom to know when to act and when to remain in the shadows.
Elias Blackthorn sat alone in the corner of the Slytherin common room, his eyes fixed on the fire, but his mind turning rapidly.
The Philosopher's Stone.
He knew it was here. Hidden beneath their feet, guarded by spells, creatures, and enchantments—yet still within reach. Not because he had deduced anything on his own, but because he remembered. He remembered the books. The films. The cultural obsession of an entire world that had poured its imagination into this story. A story that, by some strange twist of fate, was now his reality.
He wasn't here to play the hero, or to interfere with Harry Potter's journey unless necessary. But the Stone... that was something else entirely.
In the hands of the Headmaster, it was safe—for now. But Dumbledore wouldn't keep it here forever. The Mirror of Erised was only a temporary vault. Eventually, the Stone would be returned to Nicolas Flamel, and with that, the chance to study it would be lost.
Elias didn't care for immortality or endless wealth. Not yet. What he wanted was understanding.
If a stone could grant a body limitless magic by virtue of agelessness, then what else could it teach him? What ancient techniques, lost arts, or forgotten transmutations might be embedded in its design? That knowledge could not simply be allowed to vanish.
He needed to see it.
No—he needed to take it.
But carefully. Very, very carefully.
Dumbledore might have been playing the long game with Harry and Quirrell, but that didn't mean he was unaware of others moving in the shadows. And Elias, despite the shielding ring concealing his magical reserves, knew that too much attention—even one wrong move—could shift everything.
He rose from his seat and made his way out of the common room, slipping through the stone door and into the quieter dungeon corridors. His steps were light, nearly soundless. He had learned from experience—both in this life and the last—that silence was often the greatest spell of all.
In the library, he bypassed the general sections and made his way to the Restricted Section once more. He had memorized the guard schedule, the enchantment cycles on the gates, and the gaps between Filch's prowling.
This time, he wasn't looking for theory or history.
He was looking for schematics.
The third-floor corridor was infamous now—every student had heard the warning. Yet few took it seriously, and even fewer knew what it truly hid.
Elias did.
Cerberus. Devil's Snare. Enchanted keys. A life-sized chessboard. Troll. Potion riddle. And finally—the Mirror of Erised.
Each layer designed to stall or trap. None of it designed for someone like him.
But he couldn't barge in. That would bring immediate scrutiny. He had to think like a true Slytherin: slowly, methodically, and with full knowledge of what the other players on the board were doing.
Back in his room, Elias began drawing up the plan.
First: surveillance.
He would monitor Quirrell. Despite the man's stammer and cowardly posture, Elias knew that beneath that turban was a parasite waiting to act. Voldemort. Or rather, a wraith clinging to life and whispering poison. Elias had no intention of interfering. But he needed to know how close the Professor was to making his move.
Second: timing.
Dumbledore wouldn't leave the castle until the Stone was truly at risk. Which meant Elias had a window of opportunity—but only a narrow one. He needed to act before Harry was baited into the trap but not so early that Dumbledore still watched the corridor himself.
Third: extraction.
The Stone could only be retrieved from the Mirror by someone who wanted it without using it. Elias frowned at this. Would that even apply to him? He desired the Stone for knowledge, not immortality. Perhaps... perhaps that counted.
He would have to test that—carefully.
If I can't retrieve it from the Mirror, he thought, I'll need to trick someone who can.
But that was a last resort. He preferred not to involve others. The fewer people who knew about his intentions, the safer he was. Even Daphne, who had grown closer to him, remained in the dark about this.
And then, of course, there was Snape.
The Potions Master had been watching him. Subtly, yes, but often. Elias could feel the weight of his gaze in certain moments—especially during class, or when they passed in the corridor. Dumbledore must have asked him to keep an eye out.
He didn't blame the Headmaster. A noble heir, quiet, composed, unshaken by events around him, with magical power far beyond his peers—even hidden as it was—was a recipe for suspicion. Especially in a world that had once been scarred by someone exactly like that.
Tom Riddle.
And that was the danger.
Elias had no desire to become Voldemort. He didn't seek to dominate, or to purge. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous in his own right. His mind was sharp, trained in two worlds now. And with each passing day, his magic was growing.
He looked at the notes he'd scribbled on the parchment in front of him. Diagrams of the third-floor gauntlet, a sketch of the chessboard formation, hypothetical combinations of the potions needed for the riddle. It was all there.
He could do it.
He would do it.
But not yet.
He would wait, watch, and prepare. Let Quirrell make the first move. Let Harry be drawn into it. And when the others were distracted by the chaos that followed, Elias would be ready to slip in and claim what he sought.