39. Changes.

Deep in the dungeons of Hogwarts, Quirinus Quirrell trembled, his body wracked with pain. He knelt before a cracked mirror, his breathing ragged, sweat dripping down his pale face. His master's presence weighed on him like an unbearable curse, pressing into his skull with growing intensity.

"You have failed me, Quirrell," the voice of Lord Voldemort hissed, cold and unforgiving.

"N-no, my lord, I—" Quirrell choked, his hands gripping his temples as searing pain coursed through his head. "I s-swear, I searched every inch of this castle, but the Stone—it's not here!"

Voldemort's presence flared with uncontained fury. "Not here? You assured me it was hidden within Hogwarts. You wasted my time, my strength—" his voice twisted into something darker, more insidious. "You are of no use to me any longer."

Quirrell's eyes widened in terror. "P-please, master! I can still—ARGH!" His plea cut off into a strangled scream as the pressure in his skull became unbearable. It felt as though something was ripping through his very mind, his body convulsing as dark magic ravaged his already fragile form.

"Worms who outlive their usefulness should not beg," Voldemort sneered. "You were a tool, Quirrell. And now, you are broken."

A sickening crack echoed through the room. Quirrell let out one final, gurgled breath before his body collapsed onto the cold stone floor. The back of his head caved inward, a hollow cavity where Voldemort had once latched on. His lifeless eyes remained frozen in horror, his last moments spent in sheer agony.

For a fleeting moment, a shadowy wisp of dark energy coiled above the corpse. Voldemort lingered—disembodied, weakened. "Dumbledore played me for a fool," he muttered, his ethereal form flickering. "The Stone was never here. I must... retreat, for now."

With that, the wraith-like presence of Voldemort dissipated into the air, vanishing into the darkness beyond Hogwarts' walls, leaving only the crumpled corpse of his former servant behind.

---

At dawn, Quirrell's body was found in his classroom. The scene was grim—the gaping wound at the back of his head, the twisted look of terror frozen on his face, and the lingering traces of dark magic. The professors wasted no time sealing off the area, and soon, the entire school buzzed with the news.

Classes were swiftly canceled as the staff dealt with the aftermath. Dumbledore's expression remained unreadable, though his piercing gaze seemed lost in deep contemplation. Whatever had happened, one thing was clear—Voldemort had been here, and he had left.

---

The air in Hogwarts was unusually thick that afternoon. Something was different. The usual hum of conversation among the students was quieter, the atmosphere weighed down by an underlying tension. It wasn't long before the rumors spread—Quirinus Quirrell had been found dead in his classroom, his body left in a gruesome state.

Ryan, Yue, and Rachel sat at the Ravenclaw table, their lunch proceeding as normal despite the hushed murmurs around them. Students whispered theories to one another, some spinning wild stories about dark creatures, others wondering if Dumbledore had done something drastic.

Ryan sipped his tea lazily, his gaze flicking toward the staff table. Dumbledore wore a grave expression, though his blue eyes remained sharp and calculating. McGonagall looked sterner than usual, her lips pressed into a tight line. Snape seemed irritated, his sharp eyes scanning the hall with suspicion.

Rachel yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "So," she finally said, her voice cutting through their small group's silence, "Quirrell's dead."

Yue, who had been gracefully slicing a piece of fruit, nodded slightly. "It was bound to happen eventually. Voldemort would have figured it out sooner or later."

Ryan swirled the tea in his cup, watching the liquid move. "If anything, I'm surprised he lasted this long."

Rachel glanced around, noting the nervous expressions of the younger students. "Should we act more shocked?"

Yue smirked slightly, her red eyes flicking toward her friend. "Would it be convincing?"

Rachel considered it for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah. Feels like too much work."

Ryan chuckled softly, setting his cup down. "At least we get a day off from classes. I say that's the real victory here."

They continued eating as though nothing had happened, unfazed by the supposed scandal of the morning. Ryan grabbed some bacon from his plate, bringing it to his mouth, while Yue delicately took another bite of her fruit. Rachel, still lazily chewing on toast, swung her legs under the table as if the death of a professor was just another mild inconvenience.

The Great Hall, however, was filled with students whispering in anxious tones. A few Hufflepuffs looked particularly shaken, while several Slytherins exchanged wary glances. The Gryffindors, predictably, were buzzing with theories, some of them already embellishing the story with unnecessary drama.

From the shadows, hidden as always, Serenity observed the scene with mild interest. She watched as some of the staff whispered among themselves, no doubt discussing what would happen next.

So, Voldemort's really gone, huh? she mused internally, her gaze flicking toward Ryan before she let out an amused huff. Oh well, not our problem.

It was clear to their small group that Quirrell had simply outlived his usefulness.

The real mystery was how Voldemort had learned the truth.

Ryan's fingers tapped lightly against his teacup as he glanced toward the entrance of the Great Hall. The Aurors had arrived—two of them, their dark crimson robes standing out starkly against the warm, candlelit interior of the hall. They spoke in hushed tones with McGonagall and Snape, their expressions grim.

Rachel followed his gaze and smirked. "Well, there's our entertainment for the day."

"They won't find anything useful," Yue remarked, sipping her tea. "Not unless they can track wraiths."

Ryan hummed in agreement. "They'll probably declare it a case of dark magic gone wrong and move on."

"Poor Quirrell," Rachel said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. "He gambled on the wrong side."

Yue's lips curved slightly, her amusement subtle. "He was never more than a puppet. Voldemort cutting his strings was inevitable."

The Aurors moved through the hall, their presence putting a damper on the students' whispers. The younger years avoided looking in their direction, while some of the older students tried to eavesdrop.

Ryan, however, turned his attention back to his breakfast. "Well, since we have the day free, what do you two want to do?"

Rachel grinned. "I vote for exploring the castle. We haven't seen the kitchens yet."

Ryan smiled. "A date to visit the Hogwarts kitchen it is."