Devon stood outside the Hogwarts dining hall, supporting himself against the wall with both hands.
His face was covered in cold sweat, and his stomach churned incessantly. A wave of nausea rose within him.
Devon immediately began adjusting his breathing, using meditation techniques to quickly calm himself.
A coolness flooded his mind, slightly lowering his brain's temperature.
Devon started organizing the current information."There are two possibilities for Quirrell and Voldemort separating," Devon thought.The first possibility: Quirrell had reshaped a body for Voldemort, similar to how Peter Pettigrew did in the original story.
But this seemed highly unlikely.
Devon recalled that, within this short week, Quirrell hadn't had any chance to contact Harry—much less force him to offer blood.
And Quirrell couldn't have obtained Tom Riddle Sr.'s bones either. It wasn't even certain Voldemort knew that spell yet.
Devon frowned deeply.
If reshaping a body wasn't possible, Voldemort must have used another method: finding a new host!
And who was the most likely candidate right now?
Bang!
Devon slammed his hand hard against the wall, snapping out of his shallow meditation.
His face was full of remorse and anger, startling a group of chattering first-year Hufflepuffs passing by.
"Devon, are you okay?" a voice asked.
A Hufflepuff student—Spinter, the boy Devon had met during the boat ride to Hogwarts—stepped forward, looking concerned.
But Devon was lost in thought."Is there even a need to think about it? It must be Marcus!" he thought furiously.
"How could they allow a student to become an assistant teacher for no reason?"He suddenly turned around, his irritated eyes sweeping over Spinter, then shook his head slightly.
"I'm fine. Thank you," Devon said curtly.
Without another word, he raised his wand."Stone Statue, move out!"Tap! Tap! Tap!
The rapid clatter of hooves echoed through the hall.
The crowd at the entrance of the dining hall froze.
All eyes turned to see a pony galloping toward them!
"Ahhh!"
Students screamed and scattered to both sides.
Standing calmly amidst the chaos, Devon kept his wand raised, staring down the approaching pony.
Some students even closed their eyes, afraid to witness a disaster.
"Devon, be careful!" Spinter cried.
But Devon remained composed.
With a flick of his wand, he leaped into the air and somersaulted nimbly, landing perfectly on the pony's back.
The crowd burst into amazed exclamations as Devon, atop the pony, galloped deep into the castle.
"My god! Who is that?" someone shouted.
"I think it's Alexander from Slytherin! Are we even allowed to keep horses now?"
"I have no idea!"
—
Meanwhile, at the fourth door on the left of the confused Boris statue:
The Prefects' Bathroom.
Marcus stood alone by the edge of the swimming pool-sized bath, not to bathe, but to report.
Facing a dark corner of the room, Marcus spoke as if addressing someone hidden in the shadows.
"Master, the plan is very successful. The Aurors will probably come tonight."
A strange laughter responded from the shadows—sharp and piercing, neither fully human nor creature."Heh heh, Quirrell did one last thing for me," the eerie voice murmured, tinged with irony."Didn't you reward him enough?" Marcus asked seriously, his eyes glowing scarlet.
"Of course. Not a drop was missing," Marcus answered dutifully.
"Good," the voice sneered.
"If it weren't for those Tindalos creatures suddenly appearing, I wouldn't have thought of this method...
The next goal is to steal the Philosopher's Stone and recruit Alexander to our side.
You have a good relationship with him. Can you do it?"
The pressure in the room became almost unbearable as Marcus hesitated.
"Master, Devon... he's very smart. I don't think we can recruit him without exposing ourselves."
"Smart?" the shadowy voice chuckled chillingly.
"No matter how smart he is, a simple Confundus Curse will handle it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master. I understand," Marcus replied quickly, bowing his head.
"Good. Begin the plan. When the Aurors come, be sure to erase your own memories," the shadow commanded.
The figure in the shadows began to tremble slightly, preparing to leave.
"Yes," Marcus said respectfully.
As soon as the shadow vanished through the open window, Marcus whipped his wand from his waist, pointing it warily at the door.
He had heard it—
Tap! Tap! Tap!
The sound of hooves, rapid and heavy, echoed outside the bathroom door, making the air inside tense and heavy.
The shadow's earlier warning came back to him:"Dumbledore's new patrolling knights are troublesome. Ordinary spells won't work.
If you must fight them, use the Killing Curse without hesitation."Marcus stood frozen, wand at the ready.
Tap! Tap! Tap!
The hoofbeats stopped just outside the door.
But Marcus wasn't panicked—the Prefects' Bathroom required a password for entry.
Surely the knights wouldn't know it.
Sure enough, a mechanical, low voice asked from outside:"Password?"Silence.
After a long moment, a strange, hoarse voice responded:"Pine fragrance."Marcus breathed a sigh of relief.
The real password for this year was different, and clearly, the knights didn't know it.
The door didn't open.
Outside, there was another clumsy rattle at the doorknob, but no success."Password?" the door demanded again.Tap! Tap! Tap!
The hoofbeats retreated.
Marcus relaxed and re-holstered his wand.
Suddenly—"Bombarda!"Boom!
The explosion rocked the entire bathroom.
Marcus was blasted backward by the shockwave, smashing into the wall!
Before he could recover, he saw—
The door and the surrounding wall had been obliterated into rubble.
Dust and debris filled the air.
The bathroom was now a scene of utter devastation.
Marcus's heart pounded wildly, a cold fear seeping into his bones like a dagger.
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