Staring at the exquisitely complex magical structure inside the box—and at the troll within, which looked to be sleeping soundly—Avada found himself at a loss for words.
Voldemort…This was him trying to drag Avada fully onto his pirate ship.
Avada still remembered clearly: during Halloween, Quirrell would release a troll to create a diversion while he himself attempted to sneak into the fourth-floor corridor to steal the Philosopher's Stone for the first time. But Snape, already on guard, stopped him. Left with no choice, he pretended nothing had happened and followed Professor McGonagall and the others to the scene.
That time, without any accomplices, he had been forced to release the troll himself, then feign panic and run to raise the alarm—trying to slip away from the teachers' group afterward to head for the fourth floor. The flaws in that plan had been obvious.
But this time, with his assistance, all Quirrell needed to do was sit calmly in his classroom seat and attend the feast. Once the troll's roar echoed through the castle and chaos erupted, he could then "panic" and rush toward the fourth floor…
Avada looked at the labels on the cardboard box—Powerful Protection, Remote Activation, Automatic Self-Destruction, Troll Stimulation, Surveillance of Surroundings—and then at the Sonorus charm cast on the troll. At that point, he more or less understood the plan.
Although this attempt was still doomed to fail—first, the Philosopher's Stone wasn't even in the corridor room anymore, and second, Quirrell still didn't know how to deal with Fluffy, making a silent infiltration impossible—Avada would now have leverage in Voldemort's hands. At least, that was what Voldemort believed.
Avada could practically picture the scheme: once Avada realized that he had released the troll, he would panic and go confront Quirrell. At that moment, Quirrell would reveal his true identity as Voldemort—explaining that all along, he had been the one teaching Avada the Unforgivable Curses. Add to that the act of releasing a troll, and if it were exposed, Avada would be expelled at best—or sent straight to Azkaban.
Then came the carrot after the stick: behave obediently, follow him loyally, and once Voldemort obtained the Philosopher's Stone, fully revived, stormed the castle, seized power, and became Headmaster, Avada would be rewarded—perhaps even made Deputy Headmaster—ensuring his complete submission.
"If this were some student who didn't know the original story and had no idea there was a troll in that box," Avada sighed, "they'd fall for this nine times out of ten. Lucky for him, he ran into me… no, actually, anyone else wouldn't have had the chance to attract his interest with a paper on the Imperius Curse and be personally taught by him in the first place."
"But I can't tear my face off with Voldemort yet. I definitely can't let him notice anything strange about me. His mental power still needs time to be fully analyzed. For now, I have to do exactly what he says…"
"Fortunately, among all highly aggressive magical creatures, trolls are some of the easiest to deal with. No special magic, no venom, low magic resistance—just brute strength and a thick skull. And this one hasn't been enhanced beyond Sonorus… the situation is manageable. No need to seek extra help. Besides, if I told anyone now, how would I even explain how I saw through such heavy protection and knew there was a troll inside?"
"After this is over, though, I need to make contact with Dumbledore—avoid getting manipulated by any tricks and ending up on the receiving end of a full-power Legilimency session again…"
"And just to be safe, I also have to make sure the troll doesn't hurt anyone. In Quirrell's original plan, that troll was meant to kill Harry Potter."
"Hmph. For now, I'll endure it. Everything is for sealing Voldemort away completely… for the greater good?"
"Hiss…"
Rubbing his tired eyes, Avada slipped the small box into his pocket and returned to the Hufflepuff Common Room. He fetched a pile of bottles from his dormitory and then, quite openly, began brewing potions in the common room.
"What are you doing?"A few students who had been chatting or reading nearby gathered around curiously.
"Preparing a base for the Draught of Living Death."
Avada rubbed his eyes again and yawned. "My sleep's been terrible lately. Tonight I plan to sleep myself into oblivion."
"Aren't you afraid you'll be groggy all day tomorrow? It's the Halloween feast—if you don't have the energy to enjoy the food, that's a huge loss!"
"I'll just drink less. And if I really don't have any energy tomorrow, I'll come back and brew some Invigoration Draught. Won't take more than a few minutes."
"Just be careful. Don't get scolded by Professor Snape again like last term."
"…You still remember that?"
…
And so, in a hazy, half-dazed state, Avada arrived at class the next day. Unfortunately for him, the first lesson was Potions—meaning he was greeted by Snape's dark expression.
"I recall telling you last term not to abuse excessive amounts of Invigoration Draught."
"Yes, Professor. That's why I didn't use any at all this time."
"It seems you remembered my words. Good. But that doesn't mean you can come to my class having consumed a Draught of Living Death base, do nothing, and nearly fall asleep at your desk. One point from Hufflepuff."
Snape shot him a displeased glance before turning back to the podium and resuming his lecture—only to grow even more irritable shortly afterward amid a series of explosions and coughing fits.
At least he knows what a Draught of Living Death base is, Snape thought darkly. Unlike that Potter, just as foolish as his father…
And that blasted Quirrell—Merlin knows what Dumbledore is plotting…
As it turned out, even a Potions master like Snape couldn't tell at a glance that Avada had long since shaken off the effects of the Draught of Living Death base. His drowsiness and fatigue were merely an act, meant primarily to fool the box's surveillance and the other Hufflepuffs. That realization left Avada quite pleased—his acting skills had improved considerably.
It seemed that spending time around Voldemort really did sharpen one's performance. Avada, Snape, Lucius, Narcissa—none of them were exceptions.
Maintaining his outwardly sluggish demeanor, Avada entered the Great Hall, already packed and lavishly decorated with jack-o'-lanterns and bats, and took his seat at the Halloween feast. He spared a glance toward the Gryffindor table.
As expected, Hermione Granger wasn't there.
Merlin's beard… In places where I don't interfere, the plot really doesn't deviate at all?
Fuming internally, Avada casually grabbed one of the bats conjured by Transfiguration and plopped it onto Cedric's head. "It suits you. In every possible way."
Cedric blinked. "?"
"Ugh… still can't get my energy back. I really shouldn't have drunk that Draught of Living Death yesterday." He scratched his head irritably, then stood up. "I'm heading back to the dorm to brew some Invigoration Draught. Otherwise, I won't even enjoy eating—and jokes won't be funny either…"
"Don't drink too much," Cedric said mercilessly, the bat still perched on his head. "Wouldn't want Snape yelling at you again."
"…You really won't let that go, will you?"
Rubbing his eyes, Avada glanced toward the teachers' table. After receiving an encouraging smile from Quirrell, he quickly left the Hall and entered the corridor, turning toward the dungeons.
To be honest, he had considered a simpler plan—pretending to have a stomachache, going to the bathroom, and releasing the troll along the way. But then he thought: what if, after hearing the troll's roar, the Hufflepuffs remembered that he was also in the dungeons and rushed down en masse like Harry and Ron to "rescue" him? That would be a complete mess.
That was why he'd prepared a perfectly reasonable excuse the night before—one that could fool everyone—for leaving the feast early. As for how to reappear in front of the Hufflepuffs afterward, that would be even easier.
Avada crept onto the dungeon level and, as expected, faint sobbing could be heard in the distance. Muttering a quiet apology to himself, he took out the small box and placed it in an inconspicuous corner. Then he turned and briskly headed toward the Hufflepuff Common Room.
Once he was completely outside the box's surveillance range, he swiftly drew his wand, cast spells to eliminate the sound of his footsteps and erase his footprints, and then smoothly wrapped himself in a Disillusionment Charm. Moving with the practiced motions of a professional infiltrator, he silently returned to the dungeon classroom, gripping his wand tightly as he stared unblinkingly at the small cardboard box.
(End of Chapter)