Adrian did not allow his gaze to linger upon Quirrell for more too long; both he and Hagrid had just stolen brief, cursory glances in his direction. Yet despite his attempts at subtleness, Adrian could feel the fury building within him like a cauldron about to boil over.
For Adrian, who had been an orphan in both his previous life and current one, family had always been what he treasured most. Since he acquired the surname "Westeros," he had always taken the responsibility of protecting his family seriously.
However, he had failed to fulfill this responsibility. His sister remained in a coma until now. All of this was ultimately caused by Voldemort. Although the wizard who had cast the Cruciatus Curse on his sister had died silently in Azkaban, Adrian still couldn't let go.
Regarding Voldemort's legacy of destruction, Adrian couldn't understand or accept the things he had done.
How could any being, magical or not, derive satisfaction from orchestrating widespread terror? What perverse ambition could possibly justify the dismantling of peaceful coexistence between magical communities, or the ruthless campaigns against those deemed "impure" by arbitrary standards of blood status?
The senseless violence, the fear-mongering, the obsessive pursuit of power at the expense of countless innocent lives—none of it aligned with any rational or defensible worldview.
Adrian's personal philosophy had always been simple: the world, in its natural state, should be a place of tranquility and wonder.
Magic, that extraordinary gift bestowed upon certain individuals, existed not to dominate but to enhance the inherent beauty of existence.
Therefore, the existence of Voldemort was blasphemy, he must perish.
"Professor Westeros?" Hagrid's concerned voice penetrated the fog of Adrian's thoughts. His massive hand fell upon the table creating vibration that rattled their mugs and effectively pulled Adrian back to the present moment. Hagrid observed Adrian and felt that his state had become somewhat strange.
"Ah, sorry, Hagrid," Adrian replied, shifting his gaze away from Quirrell and forcing his facial muscles to arrange themselves into a façade of a casual smile. "My mind wandered into thoughts of the upcoming term and all the preparations still awaiting my attention. Where were we in our conversation?"
Even as he reengaged with Hagrid on a superficial level, Adrian's mind continued its assessment of the situation.
He recognized that any premature action against Quirrell would be not only dangerous but ultimately futile.
Even if he could somehow crush the weakened manifestation of Voldemort currently parasitizing Quirrell, the victory would be temporary at best. As long as the Horcruxes existed, Voldemort could endlessly resurrect himself.
He needed to eliminate the root of the problem.
"Quirinus Quirrell," Hagrid said the name with a thoughtful frown, his bushy eyebrows drawing together as he searched his memory for relevant details. "Hogwarts' new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he is. Professor McGonagall had a word with me about him just this past week, she did. Said he was quite the academic during his student days at Hogwarts—top marks in theoretical subjects and written examinations. A proper Ravenclaw through and through, always with his nose buried in some books or another, accordin' to her."
"Sounds promising for the position," Adrian commented neutrally, taking another sip of his mead while maintaining an appearance of casual interest. Obviously, his mind was elsewhere now.
Hagrid's massive shoulders rose and fell in a ponderous shrug, his expression turning somber.
"Poor Professor Quirrell, though," He said with genuine sympathy. "Yeh know how it is at Hogwarts—that Defense Against the Dark Arts position hasn't seen a professor last more than a single year since before I started workin' there. Always somethin' unfortunate befalls 'em—accidents, sudden illnesses, mysterious disappearances."
Hagrid's expression grew increasingly troubled.
"Some say—" His voice dropped to what he clearly believed was a whisper, though it remained audible to several nearby tables, "—that the position is cursed, has been for decades. Ne'er said so myself, o' course, but yeh do start to wonder after so many coincidences, don't yeh?"
With a pensive expression, Hagrid added: "If yeh ask me, Headmaster Dumbledore ought to teach the subject himself. Greatest wizard of our age, he is—surely he'd have some way of counteractin' whatever misfortune haunts that teaching post. But o' course, runnin' Hogwarts keeps him far too occupied, not to mention his responsibilities with the International Confederation of Wizards and the Wizengamot. Too many demands on his time already, I guess."
As Hagrid continued his ramblings on Hogwarts staffing matters, Adrian found himself puzzling over Quirrell's presence in the Leaky Cauldron. It seemed inexplicably reckless for someone hiding Voldemort to go into such a public shop.
The Leaky Cauldron was a major road between the magical and Muggle worlds, frequented by dozens of witches and wizards daily. Surely the risk of detection was considerable, especially given the nature of Quirrell's condition—having a second face concealed beneath layers of cloth at the back of his skull was hardly an inconspicuous disease.
Perhaps, Adrian reasoned, Quirrell's audacity came from confidence in his disguise. The enormous purple turban looped tightly around his head emitted an overpowering odor of garlic which created a buffer zone of personal space.
Adrian had already observed patrons gave Quirrell a wide space, their noses were wrinkling unhappily as they passed his table. The combination of the garlic's pungent aroma and Quirrell's reputation for eccentricity following his Albanian incident provided a surprisingly effective cover. Few would suspect that the nervous, stammering professor was literally two-faced.
Adrian's ponderings were abruptly interrupted when Quirrell suddenly rose from his chair. Both he and Hagrid automatically stopped their conversation, as their gazes were drawn to the turbaned figure.
With his back still turned toward them, Quirrell stood motionless for several heartbeats, then began to move slowly toward the exit.
Adrian's heartbeat suddenly accelerated, and a sense of unease spread within him.
Soon, a feeling of being watched crept up his spine.
'He's watching me,' Adrian realized with horrifying certainty. 'Not Quirrell—Voldemort. It's Voldemort staring at me.'
Cold sweat immediately broke out on Adrian's palms.
However, Quirrell didn't stop walking or turn to look at Adrian. He simply walked slowly out of the Leaky Cauldron.
"..."
By the time Adrian came back to his senses, the door had already been closed by other customers entering. Hagrid, apparently not noticing Adrian's unease, began talking about other matters at Hogwarts.
Adrian was somewhat distracted.
He was almost certain that Voldemort had been observing him just now.
Why? He and Hagrid were both watching Quirrell, so why did Voldemort single him out? Could Voldemort have become aware of the Wisdom Tree's observation of him? If that were true, then Voldemort was far more terrifying than he had imagined.
No one had ever been aware of the Wisdom Tree's abilities before. Not even Dumbledore had realized it. Adrian hoped he was mistaken.
After leaving, Quirrell never returned to the Leaky Cauldron. Adrian and Hagrid continued discussing dragons. Though for most of the time, it was Hagrid talking enthusiastically while Adrian listened.
"The Norwegian Ridgeback, now there's a misunderstood beauty," Hagrid was saying, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "Everyone focuses on their venomous fangs an' aggressive huntin' tactics, but did yeh know they're among the most protective parents in the dragon world? They'll sit on their eggs for months without eatin', just to ensure their young have the best chance at survival!"
---------
By the time Adrian returned home from the Leaky Cauldron, night had fallen. When he reached his doorstep, he noticed a dark shape circling above him. Upon spotting Adrian, the shape quickly dove down and perched on the mailbox by the door.
It was an owl. And not just any owl, but a snowy owl. Adrian determined this must be some wizard's pet, as there were no wild snowy owls in England; these owls were only found in Arctic regions. Moreover, this snowy owl was carrying a long, slender package in its beak.
"Is this for me?" Adrian took the package from the owl's beak and said, "Thank you. Would you like some owl treats?"
After receiving the treats, the owl flew away, satisfied.
Upon opening the package, Adrian found an elegantly wrapped rectangular box and a small note. The sender seemed to have been in a hurry; the note appeared to be torn from a notebook, with some messy writing visible on the back.
When he saw the crooked handwriting, Adrian nodded. Yes, this was from Harry. He was all too familiar with that messy handwriting.
This was most likely the gift Harry had bought for him. Hagrid had mentioned today that Harry had purchased a gift for him in Diagon Alley.
Adrian carefully tore open the wrapping paper to reveal an exquisite pocket watch.
The watch was silver, with a series of complex patterns engraved on its surface, appearing quite valuable. When he opened the watch cover, words slowly materialized on the inside of the lid—"To the person I respect most."
"A clever gift." Adrian smiled and shook his head, closing the pocket watch and putting it in his pocket.
The day's bad mood seemed to have dissipated.
------------------------
The next day at noon, Harry came to Adrian's place as usual. When Adrian saw him, he was carrying an old flowerpot.
"Professor, is something wrong with it?" Harry placed the pot containing the Chomping Cabbage on the table and looked at Adrian with confusion. "I followed your written instructions and added the potion when watering the Chomping Cabbage, but look at its condition now. Doesn't it seem a bit off?"
Adrian frowned slightly as he examined the Chomping Cabbage that Harry was pointing to. The plant's leaves were drooping, and its color was much duller than normal—it certainly didn't look healthy.
"That certainly shouldn't be happening," Adrian murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. Previously, virtually all plants that had used his special potion had benefited greatly. They either showed accelerated growth or evolved special "characteristics."
"Eldra." Adrian had the Wisdom Tree analyze the Chomping Cabbage in front of him.
[Species: Chomping Cabbage]
[Level: 1]
[Characteristic: Unknown]
[Status: Growing (99%), Malnourished]