Thump, thump, thump.
"W-Who is it?"
"Professor Quirrell, it's me—Ken."
"Oh, Ken. Come in."
The muffled voice from behind the door had barely faded when the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office clicked open on its own. Avada stepped inside smoothly. "You should've told me in advance, Professor."
He closed the door behind him, half complaining and half shaken, and—just as expected—felt Occlumency being probed once again. The intrusion was light, almost perfunctory.
After the troll attack, all students had been sent back to their respective common rooms. Once word spread that the troll had been dealt with, everyone relaxed and the feast resumed right there in the common rooms. Aside from the youngest students, hardly anyone had been truly nervous. As the lowest benchmark among dangerous magical creatures, a troll barely commanded any respect at all—any reasonably competent fourth-year or above could deal with one without difficulty. For top-tier wizards like McGonagall or Flitwick, the threat posed by a troll was probably less than an owl shedding feathers into their breakfast.
So with emotions settled and the atmosphere relaxed, life quickly returned to normal. Avada, however, left the Hufflepuff Common Room the moment the feast ended and headed to the third floor, knocking on the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
"Is there a problem? It was just a troll—something even you could handle with ease, wasn't it?"
Quirrell—no, Voldemort—said cheerfully, quietly using Legilimency to read Avada's thoughts.
"But there was a first-year student there! The troll nearly killed her!"
Avada looked genuinely agitated. "Can you imagine how disastrous it would be if a student were killed at school by a troll that came out of nowhere?!"
"How disastrous could it be?" Voldemort replied mildly, seemingly unconcerned. "I asked around. It was only a Mudblood who almost died—and she wasn't even injured. What's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal?!"
Avada truly seemed angry now, showing displeasure in front of this professor for the first time. "If a student dies at Hogwarts, the Headmaster will be suspended pending investigation! The school could be shut down! All students would be forced to leave! And I'd be sent back to that damned orphanage!"
"I don't want to go back! I don't even want to leave during the summer! Hogwarts is where I belong—not living among Muggles all day and being treated like a freak!"
Voldemort suddenly laughed—heartily, genuinely.
"You see Hogwarts as your home? You want to stay here forever?"
"Of course!"
"Then if you're given the chance someday, would you be willing to teach at Hogwarts? To become a professor?"
"I can't imagine a better future."
"…You're luckier than I was," Voldemort said with a sigh.
"Luckier?"
"Our experiences are nearly identical, Ken. Raised in an orphanage. Ostracized. Discovered by Dumbledore. Exceptional talent. And a deep attachment to Hogwarts."
"The only difference is that you were given a better name from the start. Ha—a name revered by the strong and feared by the weak and foolish. I had to work quite hard to obtain such a name myself, yet you were born with it."
"And the Sorting Hat gave you a choice—Hufflepuff. It made Dumbledore less wary of you, allowed you to grow and learn freely. Unlike me. I entered the glorious Slytherin, yet had to maintain a nauseating smile under Dumbledore's watchful eye, playing nice with everyone…"
"P-Professor?"
Avada looked utterly confused, unable to understand why Professor Quirrell was telling him all this. "Weren't you a Ravenclaw graduate? How did it become Slytherin? And… you had a special name too?"
A mysterious smile appeared on Quirrell's face.
"I think, Ken, you may have misunderstood a few things."
"The one who has been teaching you here in this office—showing you knowledge you can't find in textbooks—was never Professor Quirrell."
Avada's eyes widened abruptly.
"I am pleased to invite you to witness my true form… and my true name."
Quirrell rose from his chair, turned his back to Avada, raised a hand, and slowly removed his turban.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Voldemort."
The pale face on the back of Quirrell's head curled into a twisted, ghastly smile.
Thud.
Avada's face drained of color. He tumbled backward from his chair and landed on the floor, staring at that face in mute horror, unable to make a sound—as if utterly terrified by the grotesque sight.
"Master, are you really revealing yourself so openly? Aren't you afraid—"
"Silence, Quirrell."
Voldemort snapped irritably, then turned back to Avada with a gentle expression. "That's right. The one who has been teaching you all this time is the Dark Lord feared by the entire wizarding world—and the man Dumbledore fears most."
"P-Professor… n-no, Dark L-Lord…"
"Continue calling me Professor."
"Yes, Professor… Why are you telling me all this? And weren't you already—"
"Dead?"
Voldemort sneered. "I will never die, Ken. I have gone farther down the path to immortality than anyone else…"
"Eleven years ago, I was the victim of a despicable ambush. My enemies believed they could destroy me completely—but they underestimated the power and greatness of Voldemort. Still, that attack wounded me severely, leaving me in this state. And even so, Dumbledore continues to fear me, scheming endlessly to wipe me out…"
"But he cannot. No one can. How could those selfish fools who hinder the progress of the entire magical world possibly stop the great Voldemort?"
"Don't even think about telling Dumbledore."
Watching Avada's face go pale again, Voldemort said leisurely, "You have no idea who that old man really is—insidious, despicable, a master of deception and exploitation. If he knew you had been learning from me all this time, and that you personally released the troll, he would throw you straight into Azkaban—or even kill you outright. That's how terrified he is of me, obsessed with destroying anything connected to me…"
"I… I…"
Avada stammered, fear plain on his face.
"But there's no need to worry," Voldemort reassured softly. "Dumbledore has no idea I've already returned to the school. And this time, I came here to retrieve something that will allow me to regain my body. Once I do, once my power is restored, Dumbledore will be no match for me."
"All you need to do is continue learning under me. When I take control of Hogwarts and become Headmaster, I will grant you honor, wealth, power—and even the secrets of my immortality. Then you and I will openly realize our great ideals together."
"So, Ken, I extend this invitation to you—are you willing to follow me and become one of my Death Eaters?"
Voldemort smiled. He had already seen the answer in Avada's mind.
"I… am I qualified, Professor? I heard from the Slytherins that those who become Death Eaters are all—"
"You certainly are. Your future achievements will surpass most of my Death Eaters. I am confident of that."
"…In that case, there is only one answer."
Avada slowly rose from the floor, his gaze fixed on Voldemort with unwavering resolve. "I am willing to pledge my loyalty to you."
"Then roll up the sleeve of your right arm."
Suppressing his delight, Voldemort controlled Quirrell's body and turned around, raising his wand to tap Avada's upper right arm lightly. Avada felt a brief sting—and then saw a faint, birthmark-like image branded into his skin: a skull with a serpent emerging from its mouth.
The Dark Mark.
Avada: …
Well, that pretty much maxed out the trust meter. If this still failed, he might as well smash his head into a rock cake.
As for the mark itself, he could analyze how it worked later—and after Voldemort was dealt with, erase it in a couple of minutes.
"All right. You may go. I look forward to the day you grow strong enough to serve me."
Voldemort replaced the turban and, wearing Quirrell's smile, escorted Avada out of the office. Then he turned to Quirrell and said lightly, "You were worried the boy might betray me?"
"I never meant to doubt you, Master, but—"
"You have no idea what I saw in his mind just now," Voldemort murmured. "Unparalleled excitement, joy, anticipation… and loyalty."
…
Meanwhile, the Avada who had just pledged himself to Voldemort with such excitement, joy, anticipation, and loyalty efficiently cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself, sprinted up to the eighth floor, and stopped in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.
(End of Chapter)