The Revenge of The Snake

The first thing Cael felt was cold—bone-deep, merciless cold that gnawed at his skin like sharp blades of ice. His body shivered violently as consciousness clawed its way back to him. His eyes fluttered open into an endless, moonless darkness, his vision adjusting slowly to faint, snow-veiled shapes surrounding him.

Trees.

Tall, ominous trees loomed overhead, their skeletal branches swaying like claws against the starless sky. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the canopy, settling onto his exposed skin, and only then did he realize—

He was half-naked.

His upper body was stripped bare to the biting winter wind. Only his lower half remained covered by thin, tattered fabric, utterly useless against the bitter cold. His muscles twitched involuntarily, and his teeth chattered as he tried to understand what was happening.

A low sound escaped his throat, cracked and weak from the freezing air. "H-Hello? Is… anybody here?" His voice trembled, more from the cold than fear, though fear followed close behind.

He tried to move—but his limbs refused. His eyes darted down, his breathing quickened as he noticed thick ropes tightly coiled around his torso, binding him to the rough, broad trunk of an ancient tree. The cords cut into his skin, rough fibers rubbing raw against his flesh every time he struggled.

Panic sparked in his chest. Who had done this? Why strip him? Why leave him in this frozen wilderness?

The distant crunch of snow underfoot silenced his thoughts.

Footsteps.

Cael's eyes snapped toward the sound, squinting through the snowfall as a figure emerged from the shadows between the trees. His heart sank the moment he recognized the boy approaching, wand casually twirling between his fingers, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

Fischer Frey.

The same Frey he'd humiliated in front of the entire Slytherin Students during first term. The boy he'd pulled that not so harmless prank on—embarrassing, sure, but no more than typical Hogwarts mischief.

But the Frey standing before him now wasn't the humiliated, red-faced boy he'd remembered. His eyes gleamed with malice, his smirk curling with venom as he approached.

"Well, well…" Frey sneered, his voice sharp with satisfaction. "If it isn't the golden boy the Gryffindor, You thought I wouldn't find out, didn't you? That it was you who made a fool out of me in front of everyone." His steps crunched closer, the wand rising lazily, aimed straight at Cael's chest. "You thought just because I didn't react… I'd forgotten."

Frey's eyes glinted like glass in the moonlight, cruel and cold. "But I found out . And tonight, after all this time… I'm here to take my revenge." His voice dipped, dark as poison. "You filthy… Mudblood."

Before Cael could react, before he could even process the insult, Frey's wand slashed the air—

"Crucio!"

Agony, indescribable and absolute, tore through Cael's body like wildfire.

It wasn't just pain—it was annihilation. His nerves screamed, his bones felt as though they shattered from the inside, his muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Every fiber of his being burned, ripped apart, his insides twisting as though being skinned alive from within.

The snow, the cold, the trees—everything vanished beneath the suffocating weight of pain.

Frey laughed.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he sneered, circling Cael like a predator savoring the kill. "I warned you. I told you not to mess with me. And stay away from Cassandra which you listened like a good little puppy but you did something that you shouldn't have so now? Now you get what you deserve."

The Cruciatus curse relented for a moment, but the pain lingered in Cael's bones like fire beneath his skin.

"You should've never humiliated noble blood like me because of you she doesn't even Acknowledge me it's all because of you because of you all because you ," Frey spat, his expression twisted with superiority and obsession . "But don't worry… I'm not finished."

Frey cast the curse again—and again.

Each wave of pain worse than the last. But despite the torment, despite the raw, blinding suffering… Cael did not scream.

Tears pooled in his eyes, his breathing ragged, his body trembling beyond his control—but no cries escaped his lips.

The lack of satisfaction twisted Frey's sneer into rage.

"You Muggle-loving scum… You want to play tough?" Frey hissed, lowering his wand. "Fine. Let's do this the Mudblood way."

With feral aggression, Frey lashed out with his fists, punching Cael square in the face. His nose cracked, warm blood pouring down his lips. Another punch landed in his ribs, then his stomach, then his legs.

Bones shattered.

His hands broke under the brutal assault. His feet twisted unnaturally. His entire body slumped against the ropes, beaten, broken, drenched in blood.

For nearly an hour, Frey's assault continued—the magical torture, the physical beatings, each blow driven by deep-seated hatred.

At last, breathless but satisfied, Frey stepped back, wiping blood from his knuckles.

"Now that you've learned your place," Frey sneered, his voice dripping with mockery, "it's time to forget all about this."

He raised his wand again.

"Obliviate."

A soft glow struck Cael's forehead—but unknown to Frey, the System's protective barriers had already engaged, shielding his mind from tampering, from memory erasure, from intrusion.

Frey didn't notice.

"Good luck remembering who did this, Mudblood," Frey spat, turning his back as he disappeared into the shadows of the forest, his laughter lingering like poison in the frozen air.

Cael's body sagged forward, every bone aching, his blood staining the snow beneath him. His vision blurred. His consciousness slipped.

The last thing he remembered…

A deep, rumbling growl.

Fang.

Hagrid's massive black boarhound lumbered through the trees, his nose sniffing wildly, his jowls wet with snow. Fang barked sharply, the sound echoing across the woods, frantic and alarmed.

From somewhere nearby, Hagrid's booming voice shouted through the night:

"Fang! Where've yeh gone now, ya great lump? Fang!"

Relief flickered faintly in Cael's battered mind—but before he could call out, darkness dragged him under again.

Unconsciousness claimed him.