The First Hogsmeade Weekend

By October, the air in the Scottish Highlands had already taken on a biting chill, and delicate frost patterns had begun to form on the castle windows. For third-years and above, this meant the arrival of the first Hogsmeade weekend. But for first-years like Tom and Ares, they could only remain in the castle, gazing through the frosted glass at the snow-covered wizarding village and imagining its bustling sights.

The Great Hall was noticeably emptier on Saturday. Tom sat at the Slytherin table, eating breakfast at an unhurried pace, but the slight whiteness of his knuckles around his knife and fork betrayed his inner turmoil. As he watched several seventh-year Slytherins excitedly discuss going to The Three Broomsticks for Butterbeer or stocking up on the latest prank products at Zonko's Joke Shop, an almost undisguisable gloom filled the depths of his black eyes.

He hated this feeling of being bound by rules, of being excluded. Hogsmeade represented freedom, a wider magical society, yet he, Tom Riddell, was confined to the castle simply because of a ridiculous age restriction.

Ares sat beside him, quietly drinking a glass of milk. He could feel the low pressure radiating from Tom, like the oppressive stillness before a blizzard. "We could go to the library," he suggested. "Or explore the castle. There must be places even upper-year students haven't discovered."

Tom shot him a cold glance and said nothing. The library and the castle's hidden corners were certainly appealing, but at that moment, they could not soothe his irritation at what he was "missing." What he wanted was recognition, belonging, equal rights with everyone else—not to be treated like a child under supervision.

After breakfast, Tom rose and left the Great Hall without waiting for Ares. Ares watched his back vanish beyond the stone doors and sighed softly. He knew that Tom's pride was being worn down by reality, and such erosion often bred something more extreme.

He headed alone for the library, intending to continue studying the forbidden passages on soul magic in those ancient scrolls. He hoped to find a safe way to guide Tom. As he passed through the Entrance Hall, he saw Filch viciously berating a Hufflepuff student who had carelessly tracked mud into the castle, while Mrs. Norris meowed smugly at the side.

Just as he was about to climb the marble staircase, a loud and familiar voice called out to him.

"Hey! You! Wait!"

Ares turned and saw the unusually huge half-giant boy, Rubeus Hagrid, standing awkwardly in a corner of the Entrance Hall. His too-small moleskin coat was speckled with melted snow and grass clippings, while gratitude and a trace of hesitation flickered in his beetle-black eyes.

"Is... is something wrong?" Ares stopped and asked calmly.

Rubbing his enormous hands, which looked capable of crushing a pumpkin with ease, Hagrid awkwardly pulled a small parcel wrapped in rough greaseproof paper from behind his back and held it out. "For... for you. And... Riddell too." His voice was like muffled thunder, though he tried to keep it low. "Made them myself... Rock Cakes. Thanks... thanks for that day..."

Ares paused, then accepted the parcel, still warm from Hagrid's body heat. Inside the paper were several biscuits that looked as hard as stones and rather uneven in shape. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Hagrid seemed to relax, and a simple, delighted smile spread across his face. "I... I've got to help the keeper feed the Thestrals." He pointed outside. "If you... if you ever want to take a look around the edge of the Forbidden Forest... I can show you the way! There are lots of amazing creatures there!" he added eagerly, clearly regarding Ares and Tom as rare friends.

Something stirred within Ares. The Forbidden Forest... it was indeed one of the most mysterious places at Hogwarts, and one of the least bound by rules. He nodded. "Maybe when we have the chance. Thanks for the cakes, Hagrid."

Hagrid grinned happily, waved awkwardly once more, then turned and left the Entrance Hall with heavy steps.

Holding the Rock Cakes, Ares did not immediately go to the library. Instead, he turned toward the dungeons. He knew Tom had to be sulking somewhere quiet.

Sure enough, at the end of a corridor leading to abandoned classrooms, he found Tom. With his back to Ares, Tom stood before a tall, dust-covered arched window, looking out at the snow-blanketed grounds and the faint outline of Hogsmeade Village in the distance. His back was rigid, like a cold stone statue.

Ares walked over and set the greaseproof-paper parcel on the windowsill. "Hagrid gave them to us. A thank-you gift."

Tom did not even raise his eyelids. He merely gave a soft, disdainful snort, full of contempt for both the crude food and its giver.

"He said he could take us to the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Ares continued.

This time, Tom finally reacted. He slowly turned his head, and a flicker of interest flashed through his black eyes before being swallowed by gloom. "The Forbidden Forest... is certainly an interesting place. Full of danger, and full of... opportunity." His voice was low. "But we need a half-giant as a guide? How ironic."

"He knows the place, and... he trusts us." Ares emphasized, "That trust may be more useful than strength when exploring certain areas."

Tom fell silent. He understood what Ares meant. By using Hagrid's trust and position, they could gain safer, more discreet access to the resources within the Forbidden Forest, whether dangerous magical creatures or rare magical materials. It was indeed far more reliable than charging in recklessly by themselves.

"You always think of these... roundabout methods." Tom's tone gave no indication whether it was praise or mockery. He glanced at the Rock Cakes on the windowsill but ultimately did not touch them. "We'll discuss it when the time is right. Now..." His gaze returned to Hogsmeade beyond the window, and ambition blazed in his eyes once more like cold fire. "What I need is something more direct. Knowledge, power, connections. Not an adventure born from a little giant's pity."

He turned away, no longer looking at the irritating snowy view. "I'm going to an abandoned classroom. There are spells I need to practice in a quiet environment."

Ares watched him leave, knowing the anxiety in Tom's heart had not subsided. It had merely been forcibly suppressed and transformed into an even stronger driving force. He picked up the Rock Cakes. They were hard and difficult to chew, but he could feel the simple kindness contained within them.

That afternoon, when the students returning from Hogsmeade came back to the castle laden with packages and excited smiles, Tom had already returned from the Room of Requirement. He looked much calmer, but Ares could sense that the magic around him had become more concentrated, carrying an almost imperceptible sharpness.

That evening, in the Slytherin Common Room, Abraxas Malfoy and several other students who had gone to Hogsmeade were sharing their experiences and purchases. Billius Black dramatically described the "wailing ghosts" he had heard outside the Shrieking Shack, while another student displayed the latest model of Sneakoscope he had bought from Dervish and Banges.

Tom sat beside the fireplace, listening quietly with a perfectly measured smile, as though he too shared in their happiness. But Ares knew that, in Tom's heart, these stories and the regret of not being able to experience them himself were being forged together into an even firmer resolve—he would become powerful more quickly, powerful enough to ignore such boring rules, powerful enough to make the entire wizarding world open its doors to him, including Hogsmeade and places even farther away.

The first Hogsmeade weekend passed amid joy for some and disappointment for others. For Tom Riddell, it was both a provocation and a tempering. The blueprint in his heart became clearer, while the path toward his goal was destined to grow more aggressive and more unscrupulous. As Ares watched Tom's face, half-lit and half-shadowed by the pale green flames of the fireplace, he knew that the task of protecting him was becoming ever more difficult. In this Hogwarts winter, the coexistence of light and darkness quietly underwent another subtle imbalance and adjustment.