"Hold on, isn't that Professor Quirrell?!" The question came from a young wizard, and Tom's expression soured. Could they really tell?
Quirrell, as if grasping at a lifeline, scrambled to his feet and tore off his black trench coat. "Wait! Please! Don't kill me! I came… I came…" He wasn't faking his stutter now, but he couldn't conjure a plausible excuse. He couldn't exactly admit he was there to slaughter unicorns.
"He came to take a dump, didn't he?" The same young wizard offered the excuse, rescuing Quirrell from his predicament once more.
"..."
Quirrell was speechless. Did it have to be that? Couldn't there have been a more dignified explanation?
Seeing Quirrell's wretched expression, Tom felt a sudden, wicked impulse. A smirk touched his lips. "Unless, you weren't here to relieve yourself… perhaps you were here to observe and catch magical creatures? Unicorns, maybe?"
He already knew! Why was he even asking?!
Quirrell realized Tom was toying with him. In a surge of impotent rage, he even considered attacking Tom. But while he might dare to fight, Voldemort in his head certainly didn't. Feeling the familiar stab of pain and Voldemort's mental prodding, Quirrell could only grit his teeth, lower his head, and mutter, "I… I came… to take a dump."
When he looked up, Tom was already leading his followers deeper into the Forbidden Forest. He could vaguely hear the young wizards snickering, "Pooping professor," and "Filthy britches."
Having been tricked by Tom yet again, Quirrell felt his lungs would burst with frustration.
"Do not fret, Quirrell. Someone will teach him a lesson," Voldemort's calm voice echoed in his mind.
Quirrell froze. "Master, you mean…?"
"Indeed. We came to the Forbidden Forest in search of unicorns. What of him? Go back and inform that meddling old fool, Albus Dumbledore."
Hearing Voldemort's words, Quirrell immediately envisioned Albus Dumbledore punishing Tom, and his resentment evaporated instantly. "Heh… just you wait."
...
Deeper within the Forbidden Forest, the already dense, gnarled trees were draped with grayish-white spiderwebs, layered so thickly they resembled shrouds. A vast cave yawned open before them, its entrance three meters wide and shrouded in impenetrable darkness. The spiderwebs seemed to coil around the cave mouth, growing denser with each step closer.
Venturing into the cave, they were met with swarms of spiders of every size imaginable, a dense, writhing mass, like the exposed entrails of some colossal beast. The deeper they went, the larger the spiders became, some rivaling elephants in size.
This was the domain of the Acromantula, a magical creature classified as 5X in danger level – the absolute highest. Cold-blooded, fiercely territorial, and incredibly prolific, their naturally resilient bodies and potent venom made them a fearsome threat, even for experienced wizards.
Deep within the cavern dwelled a gigantic and ancient Acromantula named Aragog, the progenitor of the Forbidden Forest colony; all others were his descendants.
"Ancestor, today's sustenance has been provided." A horde of giant, eight-eyed spiders dragged a massive, mangled corpse before Aragog. The countless bite marks and the telltale signs of venomous decay rendered the creature unidentifiable, but its sheer size suggested it had been a formidable magical beast.
"More of this garbage? I grow weary of it." Aragog regarded the mutilated carcass with disdain. "I long again for the taste of young wizard flesh."
"But Grandfather, did you not vow to Hagrid that you would not…?"
"Indeed, I did. But I made no such promise for you." Aragog's eight eyes gleamed with a predatory red light, a hint of smugness coloring his tone. "This year's crop of little wizards is particularly well-behaved, making it difficult to find an excuse."
Aragog opened its terrifying mandibles, ready to devour its meal. But the moment it opened its mouth, a voice erupted from the cave entrance.
"Crucio!"
"What?!"
Aragog snapped to attention, just as the cave was instantly bathed in a blinding red light!
"Sweet Salazar… Aaaaargh!"
...
Back at the cave entrance, everything appeared much the same, save for a new… deathly silence. The remnants of spiders clung to the webs, slowly turning to ash.
Concerned that Fiendfyre might ignite the entire forest and ruin his "wonderful image" in the students' eyes, Tom had opted for the Killing Curse instead. This allowed his young followers to witness the devastating power of a targeted, area-of-effect attack.
In a mere two minutes, every giant, eight-eyed spider outside the cave was dead. Given their prolific breeding habits, their numbers were staggering. Tom's immediate goal was the venom of the largest and oldest of the Acromantula. The others were merely collateral damage.
To subdue the spiders within the cave, Tom cast a wide-reaching Cruciatus Curse toward the entrance, ensuring every spider, regardless of size, would experience the warning and obey. Powerful magical creatures such as the Acromantula possessed a natural resistance to spells, but against Tom, that resistance was negligible. Feeling he'd tormented them sufficiently, Tom intoned another incantation. "Imperius Curse!"
The last of the three Unforgivable Curses, the Imperius Curse, granted complete dominion over the target's mind and body.
Large and small Acromantula surged from the cave, a heaving, chitinous mass that was both terrifying and repulsive. As they emerged, the spiders recognized Tom and the young wizards, instantly realizing who had subjugated them. But ensnared by Tom's Imperius Curse, they were powerless to resist. They could, however, still curse.
"Bastard! You son of a…"
Avada Kedavra! A flash of green light. The offending arachnid vanished into dust.
"You…"
"You die too."
Avada Kedavra! Another flash of green light. Another spider reduced to ashes.
"..."
Even the most dim-witted of the spiders understood: silence was golden.
Salazar's saggy bollocks, that was awesome!
Witnessing Tom's decisive and overwhelming power, the young wizards behind him found their reservations fading. What could they say? This power, capable of crushing all opposition, and that "mess with me, and you die" attitude, was precisely what Slytherin embodied!
These little snakes, who had nearly soiled themselves in terror moments before, were now…
"Think you're so tough now?!"
"My handsome professor is here! You wouldn't dare touch me!"
"Come on, try being arrogant again!"
It could only be said that these little serpents were exceptionally united when it came to bullying the weak, especially Malfoy, who embraced the principle of "might makes right" with unrestrained enthusiasm.
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