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[HP] 91: Quirrell’s Gradual Descent into Double Agent Territory
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 18:47:23 +0000 UTCAs the Halloween Feast approached, Louis and Hermione were sitting in the library reading.
Louis, however, spent the entire time staring at Hermione. At first, she ignored it, but under his aggressively intense gaze, she began to feel uncomfortable.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” Hermione puffed her cheeks in frustration.
“I noticed you seemed a little upset, and I’ve been trying to figure out why,” Louis replied, resting his chin on one hand, his head tilted. “But I can't work it out. What happened?”
“It’s Harry Potter and that red-headed sidekick of his,” Hermione huffed, clearly holding a grudge. “I helped them find information about Nicholas Flamel, and they didn’t even thank me. And that Weasley—he actually called me an arrogant know-it-all!”
“How rude,” Louis lowered his gaze, voice calm. “Want me to punish him for you? Maybe a night full of nightmares?”
“…Let’s not.” Hermione hesitated for a moment, slightly tempted. “You really shouldn’t use that kind of power too often. It could make others jealous or afraid.”
“Fair point.” Louis nodded, savoring the concern in Hermione’s voice. Then he suddenly remembered something and turned serious. “By the way, during the feast, try not to wander off. Stay with the crowd.”
Hermione’s expression changed instantly. She lowered her voice and asked, “Did you foresee something?”
“Yeah. Tonight won’t be peaceful. But as long as you stick with the group, you’ll be safe,” Louis replied.
Even though Louis had derailed some of the original plot, Quirrell releasing the troll tonight was still highly likely. He was genuinely worried Hermione might end up trapped in the bathroom like in the original timeline.
“I see.” Hermione nodded firmly. “I won’t go off on my own tonight.”
“Good. Better safe than sorry.” Louis looked around. The library was nearly empty now—most of the excited young wizards had already run off to the Great Hall, eager for the Halloween feast to begin.
“Let’s go. It’s about time,” Louis said.
The two of them packed up their books and were just about to leave when Padma walked in from outside the library.
“I knew you’d be here.” She walked up to Louis. “Professor Quirrell is looking for you. He said he’ll be waiting in his office.”
“Professor Quirrell… wants to see me?” Louis pointed to himself, surprised.
“Mhm. Looked like it was something urgent,” Padma replied, then hooked arms with Hermione. “You’d better go. Hermione and I will head to the Great Hall first.”
“Wait.” Louis stopped them and reached out, grabbing Hermione’s hand—leaving a teleportation mark on her.
Hermione’s eyes widened. Lately, she had grown somewhat used to Louis’s little gestures—hand-holding, leaning in close—but those were in private.
Doing it in front of others? That made her heart race uncontrollably.
“Wow, you two are so dramatic. It’s just a short separation,” Padma teased. “Let go already, I’m getting jealous just watching.”
“Alright. Be careful on your way.” Louis smiled, letting go of Hermione’s hand as he watched the girls leave.
The teleportation mark was just a precaution—if Hermione really did run into a troll due to some unforeseen event, he’d be able to jump in and save the day.
“Now, as for Quirrell… What the heck does he want with me?” Louis scratched his chin.
At this time, shouldn’t Quirrell be releasing the troll to draw attention away and sneak past the obstacles guarding the Philosopher’s Stone? How does he still have time to summon him?
Is he trying to fish for intel? From the actual Merlin’s Heir? That’s got to be the worst method of reconnaissance Louis had ever seen.
…Unless he wants to defect?
No way. He’s a villain. Doesn’t he have any pride?
Confused and suspicious, Louis made his way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor’s office.
But to his surprise—Quirrell wasn’t there.
“Huh? Did he just ditch me?” Louis looked around the office. No sign of Quirrell anywhere. But on the desk, he noticed a piece of parchment.
It was a note from Quirrell, apologizing and saying something urgent had come up—he’d have to reschedule their meeting.
“What’s he playing at?” Louis frowned, picking up the note in irritation, ready to burn it in frustration. But as soon as he touched it, the words on the parchment began to change:
> Beware the Voldemort on my body.
> He’s working with ‘All the Villains of the World United as One Big Family’!
As soon as Louis finished reading, the parchment ignited on its own and quickly turned to ash.
Louis watched the note vanish in his hand and clicked his tongue in amusement.
“Didn’t expect Quirrell of all people to be the first to crack. Looks like he’s realized he’s not going to get a happy ending under Voldemort.”
“And to think he managed to pass on a warning even while possessed—that’s no small feat.”
Voldemort was a skilled Legilimens, and being attached directly to Quirrell’s skull meant the professor’s mind should have been completely exposed.
In terms of useful intel, the warning itself didn’t mean much—after all, both Dio Brando and Louis Wilson were the same person.
But the signal it sent was very interesting—it meant Quirrell was already on the verge of betraying Voldemort.
“Maybe I should use an illusion spell to get in touch with him. Heh… imagining Quirrell betraying Voldemort is kind of hilarious.”
Louis didn’t think winning Quirrell over would be too difficult. The man was desperate—offer him even a chance of survival, and he’d grab it without hesitation, even if it was bait laced with poison. As long as the consequences didn’t seem worse than what Voldemort had in store, Quirrell would definitely jump ship.
The only issue was… what could Quirrell actually do, even if he defected?
He was still possessed. He wouldn’t even have the freedom to act. If he so much as disobeyed, Voldemort would likely kill him without hesitation.
“Better to take it slow,” Louis muttered. “The Little Red Bottle might be powerful, but Quirrell’s body won’t last forever. No potion can undo the toll on his lifespan.”
He left Quirrell’s office, gently closing the door behind him.
“When he finally snaps and starts blaming Voldemort for everything in a mad rage… that’s when things will get really interesting.” Louis grinned. “Should I be watching as the heir of Merlin… or as Dio Brando?”
Tapping the brim of his tall top hat, Louis’s face lit up with childlike glee—like a kid who had just unwrapped his favorite toy.
“Can’t wait.”
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