The Golden Light node was gone.
Not destroyed.
Worse.
Stolen.
Voldemort could feel the difference.
If Theodore had smashed the node, the backlash would have spread through the Ten Absolute Arrays. The remaining nodes would have withdrawn, hidden themselves deeper, and waited for a better chance. Voldemort could have repaired the damage. He could have adjusted the structure. He could have mocked Theodore for being crude.
But the node had not died.
It had changed sides.
That was what made Voldemort's mood truly terrible.
Inside the hospital wing, Quirrell lay on the bed with his eyes closed, pretending to rest while Madam Pomfrey moved between patients. He had a blanket over his chest, a calming potion on the bedside table, and the desperate expression of a man who knew peace was only an illusion.
Behind the turban, Voldemort had been silent for nearly ten minutes.
For Quirrell, those ten minutes were more frightening than being yelled at.
When Voldemort yelled, at least Quirrell knew what direction the disaster was coming from.
Silence meant thought.
Thought meant plans.
Plans meant Quirrell would soon be asked to do something life-threatening.
Finally, Voldemort spoke.
"The Golden Light node acted without my command."
Quirrell's eyelids twitched.
He very carefully did not answer.
Voldemort continued, "It detected Snow's companions, attacked, and attempted to harvest their reflections."
Quirrell still did not speak.
"What does that mean?"
Quirrell knew better than to say the first answer in his heart.
The first answer was: it means your plan has grown legs and started running without you.
He chose a safer version.
"It means… the formation is becoming more complete?"
Voldemort did not respond immediately.
Quirrell's heart almost stopped.
Then Voldemort said coldly, "Perhaps."
Quirrell relaxed by the smallest amount.
He had survived one question.
Voldemort's voice lowered. "Or perhaps something within the formation is trying to take ownership."
Quirrell's relaxation disappeared.
That sounded much worse.
"My Lord, you designed the formation."
"I did."
"You prepared the materials."
"I did."
"You control the main ritual."
"I do."
Quirrell hesitated.
"Then… surely it is still yours?"
Voldemort did not answer.
That terrified Quirrell more than any denial.
Because Voldemort denying something meant he still believed himself in control.
Voldemort thinking about it meant reality had finally become annoying enough to be considered.
Madam Pomfrey approached the bed.
"Professor Quirrell, are you feeling any dizziness?"
Quirrell opened his eyes at once.
"N-no."
"Headache?"
"No."
"Voices?"
Quirrell froze.
Madam Pomfrey looked at him carefully.
The question had been normal.
Possibly.
Maybe.
Probably.
Quirrell's face began to sweat.
"No voices," he said firmly.
Voldemort's tone became dangerous. "Careful."
Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes.
"Professor, you look pale again."
Quirrell gave a weak laugh. "I am always pale."
"That is not reassuring."
She forced him to drink the calming potion.
Quirrell drank obediently.
For one blissful second, his nerves softened.
Then Voldemort spoke again.
"Tonight, we examine the lake connection."
Quirrell nearly spat out the potion.
Madam Pomfrey stared at him.
"Professor?"
Quirrell coughed violently.
"N-nothing! Wrong pipe!"
Madam Pomfrey looked unconvinced.
Voldemort ignored her.
"The third node is the key. The pitch core responded to it. Snow found something there. I want to know what."
Quirrell closed his eyes.
He had missed Albania before.
Now he missed the idea of never being born.
At the same time, in another part of the castle, Theodore stood inside the Room of Requirement.
The room had changed again.
It no longer looked like a study or a battlefield. It resembled a small valley under a false sky, with green hills, shallow streams, and spiritual veins glowing beneath the soil. At the center stood the projection of Willow Immortal, its roots spreading through the valley like living rivers.
Three fragments floated before Theodore.
A black-red thread from Heaven's Extinction.
A dark mark from Falling Soul.
A golden bead from Golden Light.
Each belonged to the Ten Absolute Arrays.
Each had been partially refined by Wutu Divine Light and Yimu Divine Light.
Each still struggled faintly, like insects trapped in amber.
Hermione stood nearby, watching with bright eyes and a notebook in her hands.
Harry leaned against a stone, willow branch across his knees.
Ron sat on the grass with three Chomping Cabbages in front of him, trying to teach them the difference between "enemy" and "shoe."
Progress was poor.
"No," Ron said sternly, pointing at his shoe. "Friend."
The cabbage stared at the shoe.
Ron pointed at a piece of broken dark thread Theodore had given him for practice.
"Enemy."
The cabbage looked at the dark thread.
Then looked back at the shoe.
Ron covered the shoe with both hands.
"Do not make this personal."
Hermione ignored him with great effort.
"What are the three fragments doing now?" she asked.
"Arguing," Theodore said.
Hermione's quill paused.
"Arguing?"
"In a way."
Theodore flicked his finger.
The three fragments moved closer. The black-red thread tried to wrap around the golden bead. The golden bead reflected the dark mark. The dark mark tried to pull both shadows downward.
"They belong to one system, but their principles conflict before the full array coordinates them. Heaven's Extinction disturbs timing and possibility. Golden Light multiplies attacks through reflection. Falling Soul targets the mind and spirit. Alone, they are dangerous. Together, they become far worse."
Harry frowned. "So during the tournament, they won't attack separately?"
"That is what the enemy wants."
Ron finally looked up from his cabbage lesson.
"And what do we want?"
"To make them attack separately."
Ron thought about it.
"That sounds like when Fred and George fight. Together, impossible. Separate, still terrible, but you can run."
Hermione stared at him.
"That is actually a good comparison."
Ron looked offended. "Why are you surprised?"
Harry smiled.
Theodore raised his hand.
The three fragments sank into the soil of the small valley. Willow Immortal's roots immediately wrapped around them. The fragments struggled, but the roots did not crush them. Instead, they separated the principles, drawing them into three different lines beneath the valley.
A faint formation pattern appeared.
Not the full Wuzhuang Temple Grand Array.
Not even close.
But more complete than before.
Hermione watched the pattern carefully.
"It's not sealing them completely."
"No. A complete seal would make them useless. I want them alive enough to react."
"To warn us?"
"To teach us."
Hermione's eyes moved quickly across the lines.
She understood.
Theodore was not merely defending against the Ten Absolute Arrays. He was using the stolen pieces to train the Wuzhuang foundation. Each enemy fragment became a lesson for Hogwarts' new protection system.
If Heaven's Extinction attacked fate, the foundation learned to stabilize small accidents.
If Falling Soul attacked minds, the foundation learned to guard souls.
If Golden Light used reflection, the foundation learned to distort hostile images.
Theodore was feeding the enemy's weapons to the castle.
Ron understood much less, but he understood the important part.
"So every time they attack and fail, we get stronger?"
Theodore smiled. "If handled properly."
Ron slapped his knee.
"That's brilliant. Evil, but brilliant."
Hermione sighed. "Why evil?"
"Because it sounds like something that would make the enemy very angry."
Harry nodded. "That does make it better."
Willow Immortal's leaves rustled happily.
Theodore looked toward the false sky of the Room.
The fragments were useful, but they also confirmed the main danger. The Ten Absolute Arrays were no longer a simple trap prepared by Voldemort. There was a will behind them, and that will had begun testing Hogwarts directly.
At first, Theodore had thought Voldemort was the planner and the old forces were merely supplying inspiration.
Now it seemed more complicated.
Voldemort was using the Ten Absolute Arrays.
The Ten Absolute Arrays were using Voldemort.
And behind both, something connected to the Investiture Tribulation was pushing the situation toward a larger collision.
Theodore did not dislike complicated boards.
But he preferred knowing how many players were seated.
"Willow Immortal."
The tree projection lowered a branch.
"Find the remaining nodes. Do not touch them yet. Only watch."
The leaves trembled.
Under the real Hogwarts grounds, countless roots spread deeper and thinner, moving carefully past old pipes, buried stones, forgotten bones, secret chambers, and the living magic of the castle.
The roots avoided the lake.
For now.
Theodore had not forgotten the ancient being chained beneath it.
That one was not an enemy yet.
It was not an ally either.
It was a locked door with something sleeping behind it.
And Voldemort was preparing to rattle the chain.
By late afternoon, the castle's preparation had become impossible to fully hide.
Students noticed.
Students always noticed.
They noticed Professor Flitwick quietly charming the stand supports for the third time.
They noticed Professor Sprout replacing decorative flowers near the pitch with plants that watched people.
They noticed Filch guarding corridor talismans as if they were royal treasures.
They noticed McGonagall personally inspecting every route from the Great Hall to the Quidditch pitch.
Naturally, rumors exploded.
"Foreign guests are coming."
"No, professional scouts."
"No, the Ministry suspects someone will cheat."
"No, the tournament is cursed."
"That's stupid. Hogwarts is always cursed."
At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George listened to all of this with the calm expressions of men gathering market data.
Lee Jordan leaned in. "So what's the real reason?"
Fred looked wise. "Security."
George nodded. "Very serious."
Lee frowned. "Security against what?"
Fred and George looked at each other.
Then said together, "Liability."
Ron, sitting nearby, nearly choked.
Hermione gave him a warning look.
Do not talk.
Ron immediately stuffed bread into his mouth to help himself obey.
Harry looked toward the staff table.
Quirrell was not there.
That was unusual.
Theodore noticed too.
But he did not react.
If Quirrell was not at dinner, Voldemort was either resting, scheming, or trying to repair control over the formation.
Theodore guessed the third option.
Possibly with a lake involved.
After dinner, Theodore left the Great Hall alone.
At least, that was what it looked like.
In reality, Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed him from a distance of about thirty feet.
Not subtly.
Hermione tried to be subtle.
Harry was decent at it.
Ron was carrying a pocket full of food and had a cabbage sticking out of his sleeve, so the effort was hopeless.
Theodore turned a corner.
The three hurried after him.
The corridor was empty.
Theodore had vanished.
Ron stopped.
"I hate when he does that."
Hermione looked around.
"He knew we were following."
Harry touched the willow branch.
"It's pulling."
"Where?"
Harry pointed.
Not toward the stairs.
Not toward the pitch.
Toward the trophy room corridor, then beyond it, down toward the lower levels.
Hermione hesitated.
"The lake?"
Ron's face fell.
"At night?"
A cabbage head peeked from his sleeve and snapped eagerly.
Ron pushed it back in.
"You don't get a vote."
They continued.
Outside the castle, the night air was cold. The Black Lake lay in the distance, silver under the moon. The grounds were quiet, but not peaceful. The kind of quiet that came before something decided to go wrong.
Near the shore, Theodore stood with his hands behind his back.
He did not turn around when the three approached.
"You are getting better at following people."
Ron brightened.
"Really?"
"No."
Ron's face collapsed.
Hermione walked to Theodore's side.
"Is it the lake node?"
"Yes."
Harry looked at the dark water.
His willow branch was still now, but in a tense way, as if it did not want to disturb what slept below.
Ron whispered, "Is this the part where something huge comes out of the lake?"
Theodore looked at him.
"Hopefully not."
"That is not reassuring."
The lake surface rippled.
The ancient presence beneath it stirred.
Not fully awake.
Not asleep either.
Theodore sensed the chains first. They stretched through the depths, binding something enormous and old. The third node had attached itself to several of those chains, feeding on the tension and trying to turn the prison into a formation point.
A clever design.
Too clever for Voldemort alone.
Theodore raised his hand slightly.
A thin strand of Yimu Divine Light sank into the water.
The lake did not reject it.
That was good.
Then, halfway down, the light touched the chain.
The world shook.
Only for a moment.
Harry staggered.
Hermione grabbed his arm.
Ron nearly fell backward before a Chomping Cabbage bit his sleeve and somehow kept him upright.
A voice echoed from beneath the water.
Old.
Tired.
Annoyed.
"Do not pull."
Theodore lowered his hand.
"I wasn't pulling."
"You were touching."
"There is a difference."
"To you."
Theodore smiled.
Hermione's eyes widened.
She could not hear the words clearly, but she could feel something speaking.
Harry could too. His face was pale, but focused.
Ron looked at the lake, then at Theodore.
"You're talking to it, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Ron swallowed.
"Is it friendly?"
Theodore considered.
The lake rumbled.
The voice answered before he could.
"No."
Ron went stiff.
Theodore translated mildly, "It says no."
"I understood that one!"
The ancient being shifted slightly.
Deep under the lake, the third node pulsed.
At the same time, far away in the castle, Quirrell opened his eyes in the hospital wing.
Voldemort had been waiting.
"There."
His voice was sharp with satisfaction.
"The lake connection is active."
Quirrell's face turned miserable.
"My Lord, I am still under medical observation."
"Leave."
"Madam Pomfrey said—"
"Leave."
Quirrell looked toward the curtain around his bed.
Madam Pomfrey was nearby.
The door was guarded by one of Dumbledore's small silver instruments, which had been placed there "for observation." Quirrell did not trust any object placed by Dumbledore.
"My Lord, perhaps tomorrow—"
Pain shot through his skull.
Quirrell stopped arguing.
A few minutes later, when Madam Pomfrey stepped into the storage room, Quirrell slipped from the bed, wrapped his cloak around himself, and staggered toward the side exit.
He did not get far.
The door opened before he reached it.
Snape stood outside.
Quirrell froze.
Snape looked him up and down.
"Going somewhere?"
Quirrell's mouth went dry.
"N-no. Just… walking."
"In a cloak."
"I felt cold."
"In the direction of the grounds."
"I enjoy fresh air."
Snape's eyes were black and deeply unimpressed.
Behind the turban, Voldemort went very still.
Snape slowly stepped into the room.
"You have been involved in a remarkable number of incidents lately, Quirrell."
Quirrell gave a weak smile.
"Unfortunate luck."
"Indeed."
Snape's gaze flicked briefly to the turban.
Only briefly.
Quirrell felt Voldemort's hatred sharpen.
Snape noticed something.
Not enough.
But something.
Then the hospital wing window rattled.
Both men turned.
A ripple passed over the glass.
From far away, the Black Lake gave a low groan.
Snape's expression changed.
Quirrell took the chance.
He threw the calming potion from the bedside table.
Snape flicked his wand and shattered the bottle midair.
Potion splashed everywhere.
Quirrell ducked and ran.
Snape cursed under his breath.
"Coward."
He followed.
By the lake, the water had begun rising in slow circles.
The ancient being spoke again.
"The parasite is coming."
Theodore looked toward the castle.
"Voldemort."
Hermione's face tightened.
Harry gripped the willow branch.
Ron whispered, "Brilliant. Lake monster and Voldemort. Lovely evening."
The lake voice rumbled.
"The parasite smells wrong."
Theodore's eyes moved.
"What do you smell?"
"Borrowed hunger."
The third node pulsed harder.
The chains under the lake tightened.
Theodore finally understood.
Voldemort was not merely connected to the Ten Absolute Arrays because he built them. His damaged soul, his obsession with immortality, and his parasitic state matched something in the formation.
The hidden will behind the array could use him as a handle.
If Voldemort reached the lake node tonight, the formation might try to seize control of him directly.
That would be bad.
Not because Theodore cared about Voldemort.
Because a Voldemort controlled by something older would be far more troublesome than an arrogant Voldemort controlled by himself.
Theodore turned to the three students.
"Go back to the castle."
Hermione immediately said, "No."
Ron groaned. "Hermione."
Harry did not speak, but his answer was written on his face.
Theodore looked at them.
This time his tone changed.
"Back to the castle. Now."
The lake shook again.
The order was not casual.
Hermione bit her lip. She hated it, but she understood the difference.
This was not the trophy room.
This was not a test.
Harry also understood. He grabbed Ron's sleeve.
"Come on."
Ron did not argue.
That frightened him more than anything.
The three retreated quickly, though Hermione kept looking back.
Theodore watched until they were far enough.
Then he turned to the lake.
Across the grounds, Quirrell appeared from the shadows, breathing heavily, one hand gripping his wand. Snape followed behind him, cloak billowing, expression murderous.
The scene became strangely balanced.
Theodore by the shore.
Quirrell between castle and lake.
Snape behind him.
The ancient being beneath the water.
And the third node pulsing like a heart caught in chains.
Voldemort's voice came from Quirrell's mouth.
"Snow."
Theodore looked at him.
"Tom."
Quirrell's body stiffened.
Snape stopped walking.
The air froze.
For the first time, Voldemort's anger did not come immediately.
The name had landed too accurately.
Too personally.
Theodore smiled faintly.
"Still pretending you are the one using the formation?"
The lake behind him darkened.
The third node flared.
The chains below groaned.
Voldemort's voice became colder than the night air.
"I use everything."
Theodore raised his hand.
Wutu Divine Light gathered.
Yimu Divine Light followed.
The lake voice rumbled beneath the water.
"Then learn what it feels like to be used."
The third node suddenly opened.
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