HR Chapter 138 Social Death! Quirrell's Mutation! Part 3

Aurora shuddered slightly, as though just recalling the nightmare.

"They are dreams. Just dreams. They are not real at all." Ian buried his head over his plate, shovelling food in as if it would shield him from reality. Deep down, he suspected this was yet another prank left behind by Salazar Slytherin's cursed legacy. The time loop wasn't supposed to leave traces…

"No," Aurora said suddenly. "I don't think they were just dreams."

Ian's knife paused mid-slice.

"It felt more like… a shared vision. A mass prophecy, maybe. I need to check something when I return to the library."

Luckily, the German witch hadn't guessed the true cause.

Ian exhaled silently in relief, though mentally he cursed Salazar Slytherin's portrait, portrait-frame, descendants, and familiar. If this was some founder's joke, it had gone too far. His cheeks burned with embarrassment just imagining the gossip that would follow.

Rumours weren't the worst part.

The worst part was they were true. He had actually done all of those things. Was this punishment from the founder? This was supposed to be a controlled magical trial, why had it turned into a magical circus?

"Actually, I had a dream too," Ian began, trying to blend in by pretending to share the experience like everyone else. Just as he opened his mouth, 

Thudding footsteps echoed from the entrance of the Great Hall.

Snape stormed in, his black robes billowing like thunderclouds with his wand still in his hand, the sleeves and cuffs of his garments soaked in blood. He swept past the stunned students without a glance, heading straight for the staff table.

Gasps rippled through the hall.

Dozens of students stared at him in horror. His wild-eyed appearance and bloodstains were enough to spark rumours on the spot, several whispered fears that he might have accidentally hexed a student into pieces.

"Silence!"

Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, stern as a whip crack, quelling the rising murmurs. She turned to Snape with narrowed eyes, her gaze lingering on the blood spatter across his robes.

"Something's happened. Someone's dead," Snape murmured to Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout, his voice low and grim. Ian, ever curious, leaned in just enough to overhear, ears pricked like a Kneazle on the scent.

"What happened?"

Professor McGonagall stood up at once, her chair scraping softly against the stone floor.

"In the dungeons... I don't know who's responsible."

Snape's voice held a strange weight, something between alarm and restrained fury.

"Take me there."

Exchanging a quick glance with Professor Sprout, McGonagall swept from the High Table, robes billowing behind her as she followed Snape at pace. Professor Sprout remained behind to maintain order in the Great Hall.

"Are there any Prefects still in the castle? Get the rest of the students out of the common rooms, quickly!" Professor Sprout snapped into action, her no-nonsense demeanour cutting through the rising tension like a blade. The young witches and wizards around her stiffened at once.

"What's going on?"

"Did someone really die?"

"I told you something was off, probably a Banshee, or a rogue vampire!"

...

The students were on the verge of panic.

Aurora, however, remained curiously calm. She continued buttering a crumpet, barely glancing at the commotion, until she turned to speak and noticed Ian's seat was now empty.

"Who died?"

Ian had, of course, slipped away.

He'd followed Snape and McGonagall, using a well-cast Disillusionment Charm to blend into the shadows, his footsteps soundless on the cold stone as they descended toward the dungeons. What greeted him there made his breath catch in his throat.

Lying outside the door to Snape's office was a corpse.

The body was lifeless, its expression vacant, the eyes utterly devoid of light, and the torso... grotesquely torn open, as if something, or someone, had gutted it with clinical precision. The organs were gone. The very essence of life had been scooped from within.

"Merlin's beard! It's him!" Ian's eyes widened in disbelief, his breath hitching audibly despite the charm.

Of all the possibilities, he'd been bracing himself to find Lockhart's body. But instead, it was Quirinus Quirrell lying in that terrible state, a man often mocked, frequently dismissed, but still... not someone who should be dead. Not like this.

Not when he was meant to be hosting Voldemort.

He was supposed to be nearly unkillable. More elusive than a Hungarian Horntail in flight. More dangerous than all four Heads of House combined.

Unless...

Ian's thoughts spun like a Whizzing Fizzbee in a hurricane.

"It's a ritual of the darkest kind," Grindelwald spoke calmly.

He still wore Lockhart's face, his tone clinical as he crouched beside the body, inspecting the remains while Snape and McGonagall approached. His presence was quiet, but it drew the air from the room like a siphoning spell.

"Great Merlin..." McGonagall whispered, her voice trembling as she took in the brutal scene. "How could this have happened?"

"Quirrell's clearly meddled in things beyond his control," Snape said, every word soaked in accusation and distaste.

"Snape, you..."

McGonagall hesitated, casting a sidelong look at Grindelwald before returning her gaze to Snape, her lips pressed into a thin, uncertain line.

"He was still alive when it happened," Grindelwald murmured, still analysing. He glanced briefly toward Ian, who remained unseen, then without warning, pulled back Quirrell's bloodstained robes, exposing his unmarked back.

Smooth.

Bloodless.

Empty.

"You can't! That's a professor's body, show some decency!" McGonagall looked away sharply, clearly horrified by the violation, her voice tight with disapproval.

But before Grindelwald could reply, 

"No, this is all wrong!"

Snape suddenly reeled back, his usually composed expression melting into panic.

"I must inform the Headmaster immediately!"

He spun and bolted towards his office. Whatever secret magical contraption Snape had hidden there, it was clearly capable of contacting Dumbledore at once. His desperation was palpable.

"He's gone..."

Ian finally understood Snape's terror. He, too, knew the truth.

Voldemort should have been tethered to the back of Quirrell's head.

But now?

Now, there was nothing.

No mark. No sign. No trace of the Dark Lord's presence.

"What in Merlin's name is happening?"

Ian didn't move, but his mind was racing. As Grindelwald rose and passed by, he deftly slipped a folded scrap of parchment into Ian's hand, subtle as a Niffler nicking gold.

"Another one of those sneaky manoeuvres..." Ian glanced at the magical shimmer of his Disillusionment Charm and sighed inwardly. He'd hoped that being 'Extraordinary' would somehow give his concealment an upgrade. So far, not much luck.

[Go to the Headmaster's Office]

The note was written in neat, block letters.

He'd only made it a few steps away when the unmistakable sound of approaching boots echoed from the stairwell. A swarm of Aurors poured into the corridor, robes black as ink, faces stony with resolve.

They were an intimidating sight.

Their numbers were considerable.

"Professors, please remain exactly where you are," The lead Auror barked. "This castle has been placed under Ministry lockdown. A trusted source has reported that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore may be implicated in a ritual murder involving dark magic."

The speaker was none other than Cornelius Fudge, the newly minted Minister for Magic.

His tone was clipped. His face pale.

When his eyes landed on Quirrell's mutilated corpse, he turned to McGonagall and Grindelwald with suspicion. His wand hand twitched.

"This isn't what I wanted... but for everyone's safety, I must ask for your complete cooperation," He announced. With a raised hand, he signalled the Aurors.

They moved instantly to disarm Professor McGonagall and Grindelwald.

(End of Chapter)

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