The surface of the Black Lake trembled.
Not violently.
Not enough for ordinary people to notice.
Just enough to send ripples spreading outward beneath the moonlight.
Theodore stood motionless at the shore.
His gaze remained fixed on the darkness below.
The shadow had moved.
Only slightly.
Yet that slight movement had caused the third node to resonate.
Deep underground, the Ten Absolute Arrays stirred once more.
The scarlet warnings on the system interface slowly faded.
Theodore did not immediately act.
Instead, he observed.
Carefully.
Patiently.
The greatest mistake a cultivator could make when encountering the unknown was assuming they understood it.
Especially when dealing with remnants connected to the Mythological Era.
The shadow beneath the lake seemed to sense his scrutiny.
For a brief moment, the water became completely still.
Then—
A pair of enormous eyes opened.
Far below.
Ancient.
Golden.
Emotionless.
Theodore's eyebrows rose slightly.
The creature was awake.
At least partially.
Yet strangely, he felt no hostility.
No madness.
No corruption.
Nothing resembling the Old Ones.
Instead, there was only exhaustion.
An exhaustion so profound that it felt older than kingdoms.
Older than Hogwarts itself.
Theodore extended his divine sense.
A moment later, fragmented images flooded his mind.
A battlefield.
Endless sky.
Mountains collapsing.
Stars falling.
Countless figures fighting beneath banners he couldn't fully recognize.
Then everything shattered.
The vision disappeared.
The lake returned to normal.
The golden eyes slowly closed again.
"...Interesting."
Theodore murmured.
This wasn't an Old One.
Nor was it one of the hidden Saint-level entities manipulating the Investiture Tribulation.
It was something else.
Something that had survived.
Something imprisoned.
Or perhaps something sleeping.
And somehow, the third node had attached itself to that existence like a parasite.
A faint smile appeared on Theodore's face.
Voldemort truly had no idea what he was playing with.
Several miles away.
Voldemort sneezed.
Then sneezed again.
Then glared suspiciously at Quirrell.
"What did you do?"
Quirrell almost dropped the box he was carrying.
"What?"
"I felt someone talking about me."
"..."
"Someone important."
"..."
"And it wasn't complimentary."
Quirrell stared.
The frightening thing was that Voldemort sounded completely serious.
"My Lord."
"Speak."
"Perhaps you're overthinking things."
Voldemort snorted.
"Impossible."
Naturally.
That answer was inevitable.
The next morning.
Theodore arrived at breakfast slightly later than usual.
Before he even sat down, Hermione noticed something.
"Did you sleep?"
Theodore blinked.
"What kind of question is that?"
"You look tired."
Harry looked up.
Then immediately nodded.
Ron glanced over.
"Actually, she's right."
Theodore sat down.
For someone else, being told they looked tired wouldn't mean much.
But Theodore's cultivation had long since surpassed ordinary human limitations.
The fact that all three noticed immediately meant the change wasn't subtle.
Theodore poured himself a cup of tea.
"I was researching something."
Hermione groaned.
"Of course you were."
Ron pointed dramatically.
"There it is."
"There what is?"
"The phrase."
"What phrase?"
"'I was researching something.'"
Ron shook his head.
"Every disaster starts with that sentence."
Harry nearly choked on pumpkin juice.
Even Theodore laughed.
At the staff table.
Dumbledore quietly observed the exchange.
His eyes lingered on Theodore for a second longer than usual.
The old wizard had spent most of the night investigating unusual magical fluctuations around the lake.
He hadn't found much.
That bothered him.
The absence of answers was often more concerning than answers themselves.
Especially in Hogwarts.
Especially lately.
The day passed peacefully.
Which immediately made Theodore suspicious.
Nothing had exploded.
Nobody had accidentally summoned a firestorm.
Fred and George hadn't been chased by angry cabbages.
Quirrell hadn't been hospitalized.
It was almost unnatural.
Then evening arrived.
And everything made sense.
Because the official Quidditch Tournament schedule was finally announced.
The entire castle erupted.
Students flooded the corridors.
Arguments broke out.
Bets were placed.
Several Ravenclaws immediately started calculating probabilities.
A group of Hufflepuffs began preparing banners.
The Weasley twins somehow produced merchandise within three hours.
Nobody knew how.
Not even McGonagall.
Most likely, she didn't want to know.
Theodore stood near one of the announcement boards.
His eyes moved past the match schedules.
Past the teams.
Past the event details.
And settled on something else.
Visitors.
A large number of visitors.
Players.
Officials.
Families.
Former students.
Guests.
Hundreds of people entering Hogwarts.
A perfect opportunity.
For Voldemort.
For the Ten Absolute Arrays.
For whatever lurked behind them.
Theodore's expression remained calm.
But inwardly, he understood something.
The opening moves were over.
The hidden struggle beneath Hogwarts had reached the point where neither side could continue preparing forever.
Soon, someone would have to make a move.
And when that happened...
Everything would accelerate.
That night.
Far beneath the Black Lake.
The golden eyes opened once more.
This time, they remained open.
Ancient chains stretched across the darkness.
Covered in runes.
Covered in scars.
Covered in the passage of time itself.
The creature slowly lifted its head.
The movement caused the entire lakebed to tremble.
Mud shifted.
Ancient ruins emerged from the sediment.
And for the first time in countless years—
A voice echoed through the darkness.
Not aloud.
Not through sound.
Directly into the surrounding space.
A single sentence.
A question.
Ancient.
Hoarse.
Filled with disbelief.
"Another... disciple of Yuxu?"
The third node exploded with light.
And deep within Hogwarts, Theodore suddenly opened his eyes.
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