Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

A panicked shout echoed through the stone corridors of the dungeons.

"Somebody—get help! Please!"

The Slytherin common room stirred, curtains thrown back, heads peeking out of dormitories as Colby Frey stumbled out, pale and frantic.

Professor Snape swept into view moments later, his black robes billowing behind him, face unreadable but sharp with concern.

"What is it?" Snape demanded, eyes narrowing.

"It's Fischer—he—he's… something's wrong," Colby stammered, wringing his hands.

Snape didn't waste a word. He pushed past him , striding into the sixth-year dormitory.

The sight stopped him momentarily.

Fischer Frey lay curled up on his bed, trembling, his face flushed with pain, eyes squeezed shut. His hands clutched desperately at the blanket covering his lower half, his entire body tense with discomfort.

Snape approached, wand already drawn, casting diagnostic charms.

The results flickered in the air. His eyes darkened slightly.

Localized cryogenic damage. Magical freezing spell, likely advanced. Targeted to a rather… delicate area.

Snape's mouth pressed into a thin line, but his voice remained calm. "Trevers, fetch Madam Pomfrey. Now."

Moments later 

Madam Pomfrey hovered over Fischer, casting diagnostic spells as he lay groaning on the bed. His face was pale now, but the worst of the pain had been subdued with potions.

Snape stood nearby, arms folded, watching with his usual unreadable stare.

After a moment, Madam Pomfrey exhaled and straightened up. "Well, I've seen stranger injuries at this school, though this certainly takes creativity."

Fischer winced, looking miserable. "What… what's wrong with me?" His voice cracked with nervous dread.

Madam Pomfrey's tone stayed matter-of-fact, professional. "You've suffered a rather aggressive freezing curse… directed at your lower extremities." She cleared her throat delicately. "The good news is, nothing's been permanently damaged."

Fischer sagged with relief—only for her to continue.

"However, the area will be… ah… non-functional for some time. The magical trauma will take months to heal properly. Likely a year, maybe two before… well, things work as expected again."

Fischer's face crumpled, horror and frustration colliding. "A year? You mean—I won't—"

"Correct," Madam Pomfrey confirmed briskly. "No long-term harm, but for the foreseeable future… no romantic endeavors." She gave him a pointed look. "Consider it enforced celibacy, Mr. Frey."

Fischer groaned, flopping back onto the bed, muttering curses under his breath.

Outside the curtains, the rumor mill was already buzzing.

Word traveled fast, as it always did at Hogwarts.

Students whispered in the corridors, speculation rampant, facts twisted beyond recognition by lunchtime.

"Frey's bits got frozen solid—"

"Completely out of commission for two years—can you imagine?"

"I heard they had to chip ice off him—"

"Serves him right, he's always been a git—"

By the time the Gryffindors heard, it had already turned into a tale of epic proportions involving frostbite, hexes, and possibly a revenge plot.

Fred and George exchanged knowing glances, snickering. Lee Jordan added dramatically, "If that's not karma, I don't know what is."

"Frozen stiff for two years?" George whispered, barely holding in laughter.

Fred shook his head. "That's rough, mate. But maybe it'll teach Frey to keep his wand to himself."

Lee Jordan cackled. "That's what happens when you mess with the wrong people."

And Cael was a little bit disappointed as his plan was to permanently disable him but he got lucky to be saved but hey for two more years this punishment will be enough for him. 

Afternoon

In the staff lounge, the atmosphere was quieter than usual, a low hum of concern beneath the surface, though no one dared call it panic.

Professor Snape stood beside Dumbledore, arms folded, his expression unreadable as he addressed the gathered staff.

"Someone breached the Slytherin dormitory last night," he stated coldly. "Advanced Disillusionment Charm. Possibly skilled with curses. One of the prefects was found stunned and hidden behind the statue near the entrance. She claims she never saw the attacker."

Professor McGonagall's brow furrowed. "A student, you believe?"

"Most likely," Snape confirmed, his voice cool and clipped. "Given the precision, and the… target, I suspect this was personal. I believe Mr. Vale should be questioned. His history with Mr. Frey is well known."

McGonagall's frown deepened. "I spoke to the Fat Lady myself. She insists no one entered or left Gryffindor Tower last night. We shouldn't be so quick to point fingers."

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, his eyes glinting faintly behind his half-moon spectacles. "An unfortunate incident, certainly," he said mildly, "but no cause for widespread alarm. Hogwarts has weathered its share of… creative disagreements." His gaze sharpened slightly. "And I see no benefit in alarming certain Pure-blood families unnecessarily."

Snape's expression darkened. "It is serious," he said sharply. "The boy nearly lost his future. Had Madam Pomfrey not acted swiftly, the damage could've been permanent. You know perfectly well—the Frey family, with the backing of others, would not let that pass quietly."

Madam Pomfrey, standing with arms crossed, cut in briskly. "The boy will recover. Eventually. But had the curse lingered even a day longer…" she shook her head, "we'd be talking about lasting damage. Possibly permanent disability."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "And what explanation do we give the students?"

"The truth," Dumbledore replied smoothly. "There was an incident. Magical mischief of an advanced nature—but contained. Patrols will increase. I trust," his eyes shifted to Snape with a knowing look, "Slytherin House will… manage itself with discretion."

Snape's lips curled in the faintest ghost of a smile. "For all our sakes, I hope this is the last time," he warned quietly. "Because next time, I won't be able to stop certain families from storming this castle… and then, there will be no controlling what happens."