The Max-Level Muggle-Born: Hogwarts Isekai

Maintaining her cover as a quiet, unremarkable first-year was now more critical than ever. Dumbledore was watching. She had to give him nothing to see.

Breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning was the first test. The enchanted ceiling showed a bright, cheerful autumn sky, a stark contrast to her mood. She sat at the end of the Slytherin table, methodically eating her toast while scanning the hall. Her gaze lingered on the Gryffindor table. The Trio were huddled together, seemingly preoccupied with a new delivery from the Owl Post. Ron was attempting to unwrap a lumpy package while fending off his brother's owl, and Hermione was already engrossed in a new, heavy-looking textbook. Harry seemed relaxed, laughing at Ron's antics. Their current status was clear: [Idle - Normal School Activities]. They were not yet on the path to the final confrontation. This was good. It meant she had time.

Her attention then shifted to the staff table. Professor Quirrell was there, his turban looking slightly askew. He fidgeted constantly, his eyes darting around the hall with a nervous energy that was far more pronounced than before. Evelyn knew, from her brief encounter, the true source of that agitation. It wasn't just a stutter; it was the impatience of a Dark Lord.

Later that day, Evelyn put her theory to the test. Under the guise of heading to the library, she shadowed Quirrell from a safe distance. Her stealth skills were put to the test as she watched him make his way, not to his classroom, but towards the third-floor corridor. He stopped before the door, the one now sealed by Dumbledore's magic. He raised his wand, muttering a series of complex incantations. Nothing happened. The door remained shut, the new, silvery runes glowing faintly in defiance.

Quirrell let out a hissed curse, a sound so filled with venomous rage it was clearly not his own. He slammed his fist against the stone wall next to the door, a completely uncharacteristic display of frustration, before spinning around and storming off in the opposite direction.

Evelyn remained hidden in an alcove, a slow, cold smile touching her lips. Her failure had not been entirely without merit. She had inadvertently stalled the main villain. By triggering Dumbledore's alert, she had locked Quirrell out of his own dungeon. He couldn't get back in to continue his attempts on the obstacles below. His plans were delayed. This bought her even more time.

With Quirrell temporarily neutralized and the Trio still occupied, the path was clear for her to focus on her next objective.

The Whomping Willow was a puzzle of violent, kinetic energy. Evelyn spent the next week observing it from a safe distance, sometimes from the castle windows, sometimes from the edge of the grounds. She watched it thrash its mighty branches at birds that flew too close, its movements a chaotic, brutal dance. To most, it was just a dangerous tree. To Evelyn, it was a raid boss with a predictable attack pattern and a known environmental weakness.

Her plan, born from Professor Sprout's intel and her own gamer logic, was simple in concept but incredibly difficult in execution.

Trigger the Weakness: Press the unique knot at the tree's base to induce temporary paralysis.

Harvest the Component: While the tree is frozen, use a powerful Severing Charm to slice off a suitable branch.

Escape: Get away before the paralysis wears off.

The primary problem was step one. An eleven-year-old girl couldn't just run up to a tree that used branches like giant flails and press a knot. She needed a ranged solution.

Her plan involved a bit of transfiguration and a precise application of charms. She would transfigure a stone into a small, dense, perfectly smooth sphere. Then, she would use a modified Levitation Charm combined with a Propulsion Charm to launch the sphere like a magical bullet, aiming it directly at the knot. If the sphere hit with enough force and stayed pressed against the knot for a few seconds, it should, in theory, trigger the paralysis.

The second problem was the Severing Charm. A simple Diffindo wouldn't scratch the Willow's magically-reinforced bark. She needed a high-tier version of the spell, a Sectum, which required a huge amount of focused power. Casting that with her current wand was like firing a cannonball out of a cardboard tube. It was risky. Very risky.

She waited for a moonless, overcast night, the kind of night where the darkness on the grounds was absolute. She slipped out of the dungeons, her new objective flashing in her mind.

[Quest Initiated: The Willow's Bounty]

The grounds were cold and damp, the air thick with the smell of wet grass. The silhouette of the Whomping Willow loomed against the slightly-less-black sky, a monstrous shape of writhing branches.

She found a good vantage point behind a large, mossy rock about fifty yards from the tree. She placed a smooth, fist-sized stone on the ground in front of her. "Sphaera Perfecta," she whispered. The stone shimmered and reformed itself into a flawless, polished black sphere.

Now for the hard part. She aimed her wand at the sphere, her mind calculating the trajectory, the wind speed, the required velocity. She took a deep breath. "Wingardium Leviosa... Impello!"

The sphere shot from the ground with a low hum, a black streak against the dark sky. It flew straight and true. For a moment, she thought she had miscalculated as a flailing branch swung towards the sphere, but it passed just underneath. The sphere slammed into the base of the tree with a loud THWACK, hitting the large, gnarled knot dead center.

For a terrifying second, nothing happened. The tree continued to thrash. Then, with a deep, groaning shudder that seemed to shake the very ground, the Whomping Willow froze. Every branch, every leaf, became utterly still, locked in place like a gruesome statue.

[Target Status: Paralyzed. Duration: 90 seconds]

The timer started in her head. She had to be fast.

Evelyn broke cover, sprinting across the damp grass toward the frozen tree. She had already picked her target: a young, straight branch about ten feet up, thick enough to be potent but thin enough to be severed.

She reached the base of the tree, her heart pounding. The silence from the usually violent plant was deeply unsettling. She aimed her wand, pouring every ounce of her magical energy and focus into the tip. This was the spell that had backfired in Transfiguration, the one that had turned a matchstick into a rocket. She had to control it.

"SECTUM!" she yelled, the incantation a sharp bark in the night air.

A beam of brilliant white light shot from her wand and struck the branch. The spell connected, slicing cleanly through the wood. The branch fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

[Item Acquired: Whomping Willow Branch (Legendary)]

But the victory came at a cost. The sheer power of the spell was too much for her wand to handle cleanly. A wave of violent, uncontrolled magical energy surged back down her arm, a painful jolt like a massive electric shock. Her vision flickered, the world dissolving into shimmering green lines of what looked like raw code for a split second.

[WARNING: Unstable Mana Channel. System Glitch Detected.]

The notification was new, and it was terrifying. She stumbled back, clutching her arm, the strange, tingling sensation slowly fading. She had the branch, but the "glitch" was a new and completely unknown variable.

She didn't have time to analyze it. A low groan echoed from the tree above her. The paralysis was wearing off.

She snatched the severed branch from the ground and ran, not looking back as the first of the Willow's mighty limbs began to twitch.