"Dammit! Dracula knows everything. He's just been toying with me!"
In the narrow assistant's office, the young version of Voldemort, now looking much more solid than before, had a face twisted with rage. His once-handsome appearance now seemed grotesque.
"You useless fool! You still haven't figured out how to deal with that beast?!" he glared at Quirrell, slamming a thick stack of papers he had just collected onto his face. "Besides collecting assignments and writing lesson plans, what can you do? I sent you to infiltrate Hogwarts to steal the Philosopher's Stone, not to serve as a dutiful assistant for Dracula!"
Quirrell knelt on the floor, trembling, letting the papers scatter, and didn't dare to move or retort.
"Ha, I should have let you die at Dracula's hands back at the Leaky Cauldron," Voldemort's voice was icy. "Rescuing you from Dracula's control cost me a lot of my soul essence. Only after obtaining the Horcrux diary did I manage to replenish some of that loss."
"And the curses and hexes used at the Quidditch pitch to protect your identity further drained most of my remaining essence!"
"The unicorn blood I sacrificed recently did help a bit, but I'm still far from fully restored. I can't afford to use that power for trivial matters. Do you expect me to handle every beast personally? What use are you to me then?"
"I'm sorry… Master," Quirrell stammered. "I… I actually have a plan. If I can get the dragon egg from the Romanian smuggler I've contacted, I could bet the egg against Hagrid and get him to reveal his method for dealing with the Cerberus…"
"That's too obvious, you fool!" Voldemort roared. "Hagrid wants to raise a dragon, and someone conveniently bets against him and sends him a dragon egg? Even a ten-year-old could see the problem!"
"Don't you understand? Dracula and Dumbledore are just playing the long game! They could uncover our plans at any moment. If we show even the slightest sign of moving against them, an impregnable net will immediately ensnare us!"
"So… so we have no way out?" Quirrell looked up with a pale face, despair in his eyes. "In our disadvantaged position, how can we avoid giving them any indication?"
Voldemort's expression also darkened. At this moment, he couldn't think of any feasible solutions. Defeating the Cerberus himself seemed to be the only way to avoid showing any signs.
However, the remaining soul essence was his lifeline and the last insurance for his comeback. Using it to deal with a single beast seemed too costly. Moreover, there were many other challenges set up by the professors. Who knew what other dangers awaited?
So, must he give up the nearly within reach Philosopher's Stone? Voldemort slightly raised his head, his gaze seemingly surpassing the ceiling, reaching the forbidden zone on the fourth floor…
At that moment, the diary on the desk opened on its own, without any wind.
On the blank pages, a line of elegant handwriting appeared—
"I have a plan."
...
At Hogwarts, Quirrell and Voldemort were not the only ones feeling troubled.
Snape was also anxious because the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was about to start, and he feared that Quirrell, controlled by the Dark Lord, might do something detrimental to Lily's son.
Thus, he resorted to pushing Madam Hooch aside and took over as the Quidditch referee for this match.
As a referee, he could focus on Harry, promptly removing any dark curses placed on him; he could also easily oversee the entire Quidditch pitch and identify anyone cursing Harry.
Of course, it would be even better if he could cause some trouble for the Gryffindor team and make them lose to Hufflepuff. This way, Slytherin might have a chance to win the championship!
...
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also troubled, fearing that Harry might face another dark curse.
Last time, Harry was saved by the large bats conjured by Professor Dracula. However, this time, Hermione and Ron believed that the person cursing Harry would use more malicious and powerful spells to bring him down before the professors could react.
"I have to participate in the match," Harry said firmly to Ron and Hermione. "If I withdraw, the Slytherins will think I'm afraid and can't face any difficulty. I want to see the look on their faces when they realize they've lost after we win."
"As long as we don't have to carry you off the pitch," Hermione said sadly, but then her eyes suddenly brightened. "Oh, Professor Snape is the referee this time. He will definitely protect you! He made an effort to save you last time from the stands, so he'll probably do the same as a referee!"
Harry was taken aback, feeling an intense sense of unreality, especially considering Snape's usual disdainful looks. The fact that Snape had indeed cast a counter-curse for him last time was undeniable.
"I just hope he doesn't act like he usually does and deduct points from Gryffindor. I'd be grateful for that," he said stubbornly, unable to bring himself to speak well of Snape.
...
In the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office, even Dracula felt a bit unsettled looking at the two smirking red-haired twins.
"What kind of trouble are you two planning now?" he asked, looking at the Weasley twins dressed in red Quidditch team uniforms.
"Professor, today's match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff is crucial. If we win, Gryffindor will almost certainly secure the Quidditch Cup!" George said. "But there's a problem—Harry's old enemy Snape is the referee, and by convention, he will definitely favor Hufflepuff."
"So, we need a stronger professor to keep Snape in check. And it would be even better if this professor could give Harry the courage to win!"
"Exactly. And Harry was cursed in the last Quidditch match, and you saved him," Fred nodded vigorously, adding after George finished, "Professor, you wouldn't want the student you're protecting to be sabotaged again, would you?"
"…"
Dracula, still holding his umbrella, walked onto the path leading to the Quidditch pitch, lost in thought.
Why did that sentence sound so familiar?