There was always a way to solve a problem.
For example-bring Morin along.
Call for backup.
Of course, this backup came with limits. Otherwise, it would be no different from using a cheat code to clear a game. Morin had made it clear to Hermione that he would only help conceal her sound, appearance, and scent. He would not provide direct protection unless he judged that she had entered a danger she could not escape on her own.
He likely wouldn't need to step in anyway.
Hermione was planning to follow Snape.
Snape looked like a villain. He acted like a villain.
But he wasn't actually a villain.
If Hermione were discovered, it would count as her failure in the challenge. In reality, that failure wouldn't change much. Morin, in a rare burst of conscience, had already handed out the rewards for this challenge in advance.
That day, he had just finished crafting and modifying Grindelwald's wand. There were plenty of materials left over, so he simply called Harry and Hermione over and helped upgrade their wands as well.
By the way... should I add extra rewards?
People lacked motivation without incentives.
Morin fell into thought.
Hermione, however, didn't seem particularly interested in rewards. Once she learned Morin could accompany her, she nodded happily and left.
Morin shook his head.
It was about time to deal with the Voldemort problem. If he waited any longer, that garlic stench would drift all the way over to him. He genuinely wondered how foul Voldemort's body had to be to require that much garlic. The man's endurance was impressive, in its own way.
More importantly, once this version of Voldemort was dealt with, it would be time for Morin to move on to the next world.
He had already written enough exam papers to last seven years.
There wasn't much left to do here.
Harry still needed time to grow.
As for Hermione...
Morin didn't even need telepathy to guess what she was thinking.
But she was still young, and Morin was a man who strictly followed the "rules of the road." Leaving for a while would let things cool down.
That was for the best.
...
Evening.
"I've studied Professor Snape's routine," Hermione whispered. "He goes straight back to his office after class, then always leaves again at night. We can hide here and follow him when he comes out."
"Makes sense," Morin nodded.
Elsewhere, Harry and Ron cautiously slipped into Professor Quirrell's office.
They didn't know Alohomora.
That didn't stop them.
They had stolen the key from Filch's room. With the Invisibility Cloak, something like that was trivial.
What they didn't know was that if Morin hadn't already dispelled the curses in Quirrell's office, they would have been discovered-or killed-long ago.
Morin had no choice but to intervene.
Hermione was facing Snape. Failure there meant losing a few Gryffindor points at most-standard procedure for Hogwarts' three kings of point deduction.
But Harry was facing Quirrell.
Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort.
If Morin didn't step in, Harry and Ron would die tonight.
This run had to be carried.
It didn't matter much. They would meet again eventually. By then, Hermione and Harry would have grown, and Voldemort would be a perfect test subject for their progress.
Grinding mobs was fun.
Being ground by a mob was not.
"Professor Quirrell always goes straight back to his office," Harry whispered. "He thinks it's safe there. He might show things he wouldn't in front of others."
"I just regret not bringing something to block my nose," Ron whispered back, his face green. The stench in the office was far worse than during lessons.
"Wait-I hear footsteps," Harry signaled.
The sound grew closer.
Harry and Ron held their breath, hiding in silence.
Creak.
The door opened.
Professor Quirrell entered, still wearing his turban-thicker than ever.
"Those idiots..."
He didn't notice anything amiss.
He closed the door, muttering, tapped his wand around the room, then sat down and began unwinding the turban.
Harry instinctively tried to turn to Ron.
He couldn't move.
Not an inch.
He tried his hand.
Nothing.
His body felt like it wasn't his.
Cold flooded his chest. His blood seemed to freeze.
Had they been discovered?
When?
If it was Quirrell, why was he ignoring them?
Questions flooded Harry's mind.
Ron was the same-frozen.
As the turban unwound layer by layer, the stench intensified. Not garlic. Rot. Something fermented, layered, wrong.
"So... only two days left..."
A voice echoed.
Harry's heart skipped.
Professor Quirrell was facing them.
His mouth wasn't moving.
The voice sounded like a whispering snake.
Harry's scar burned.
Pain exploded through his head.
Then-
The scene vanished.
Quirrell. The office. The stench.
Gone.
Harry, Ron, and the Invisibility Cloak vanished together.
They reappeared somewhere familiar.
Morin's office.
"Even though I don't teach your year," a calm voice said behind them, "I've taught you this more than once, Harry. Never act recklessly. Preparation comes first."
"Morin!" Harry shouted, spinning around.
He could move again.
Everything made sense.
"What-what just happened?!" Ron tried to yell.
No sound came out.
"It's night," Morin said mildly. "And since you're both breaking school rules, staying quiet would be wise. Don't you think, Mr. Ron Weasley?"
Ron could only nod.
"You can speak now," Morin said. "I assume you have questions, Harry."
"You... you knew all along?" Harry asked.
"From the beginning," Morin nodded. "I believe you suspected it too."
"Professor Quirrell is Voldemort!" Harry's face was deathly pale.
Ron tried to scream again.
Silenced halfway.
Admin privileges were wonderful.
"Professor Quirrell didn't meet vampires in the rainforest," Morin said. "He met something worse. Voldemort attached himself to the back of his head."
He continued evenly.
"The item I helped Headmaster Dumbledore retrieve from Gringotts-the vault that was robbed shortly after-Professor Quirrell was there that day too. Buying books, he said."
Morin paused.
"I think 'buying a life' is more accurate."
"The Sorcerer's Stone..." Harry whispered.
"You did your research. Good," Morin nodded. "Though it grants longevity, it doesn't stop aging. Voldemort knew that. He had no better option."
He glanced aside.
"That stench? Quirrell's body is rotting. Voldemort won't get another host."
"So the trapdoor... the three-headed dog..." Harry asked.
"Yes."
"Does Dumbledore know?"
"I didn't tell him directly. I hinted. He's noticed."
"Then why didn't you act?"
"Because panic helps Voldemort escape," Morin said smoothly. "Preparation matters."
He added casually, "Mr. Grindel-Wardling-is powerful. Why do you think Voldemort chose Quirrell as his opponent? The duel is coming. That's when things begin."
"So... Voldemort won't be dealt with now?"
"This version can be killed," Morin said. "But there's more than one. He split himself into many pieces."
Harry froze.
"But didn't we expose ourselves?"
"If I hadn't prepared, yes," Morin replied. "But Voldemort can't see through my methods."
"And Snape?" Harry asked suddenly.
Morin's expression turned odd.
"Snape looks like a villain. Targets you. But he will never harm you."
He paused.
"He's someone Dumbledore trusts."
That was enough.
-
Elsewhere.
Another Morin and Hermione stood inside Snape's office.
The atmosphere was painful.
"...Well," Morin coughed. "At least we know why Professor Snape is so harsh on Harry."
"Because he loved Harry's mother, and she didn't choose him?" Hermione's eye twitched.
"That's exactly it."
Morin scratched his head.
"Let's... not dig any deeper. If this gets out, he might die of embarrassment. You'll keep this secret, right?"
"I will," Hermione nodded quickly.
She glanced at Snape again.
He sat alone, holding magical photographs, murmuring softly.
Earlier, she'd been excited. All those protections-surely a dark secret.
It was a secret.
Just not the one she imagined.
If Morin hadn't come with her...
Hermione swallowed.
A humiliated Professor Snape might not be evil.
But he would definitely be lethal.
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