The third node opened.
The Black Lake did not explode.
It sank.
The water near the shore dropped several inches in an instant, as if something beneath it had taken a deep breath. Then black ripples spread outward, one ring after another, turning the moon's reflection into broken silver.
Quirrell stopped moving.
Snape also stopped.
Even Voldemort fell silent for half a breath.
That half breath was enough for Theodore to know one thing.
Voldemort had not expected this either.
"Tom," Theodore said lightly, "your formation seems eager to meet you."
Quirrell's face twisted.
Voldemort's voice came out colder than before.
"I told you not to call me that."
"You did."
Theodore raised his hand.
Wutu Divine Light pressed into the shore, steadying the ground before the lake's pull could drag the mud, stones, and buried roots inward.
Yimu Divine Light followed, sinking into the water like green threads.
The lake rejected most magic.
It did not reject this.
Willow Immortal's roots, already spread beneath the grounds, reached the edge of the lake and stopped there. They did not enter recklessly. The ancient being had warned Theodore once.
Do not pull.
Theodore did not intend to pull.
He intended to nail the parasite in place.
The third node pulsed again.
This time Quirrell screamed.
His shadow stretched toward the lake, thin and long, as if something underwater had caught it with a hook.
Snape's expression changed.
He flicked his wand at once.
"Finite!"
The spell struck Quirrell's shadow.
It broke nothing.
Instead, the black line turned toward Snape.
Theodore lifted two fingers.
A willow leaf flew across the air and cut the black line before it touched Snape's boots.
Snape's eyes narrowed.
He looked at Theodore, then at Quirrell, then at the lake.
"What is that?"
"A bad idea that grew teeth."
Snape's face darkened.
"I asked for an explanation, not poetry."
"That was the simple version."
Behind Quirrell's turban, Voldemort finally reacted.
He forced Quirrell's body to lift its wand.
"Avada—"
Theodore's gaze shifted.
The killing curse died in Quirrell's throat.
Not because Theodore stopped it.
Because the lake node moved first.
A black chain shot out from Quirrell's shadow and wrapped around his wand arm.
The wand fell.
Quirrell collapsed to one knee, gasping.
Voldemort's anger turned sharp with shock.
The formation was attacking him.
No.
Not attacking.
Recognizing.
The lake voice rumbled beneath the water.
"Borrowed hunger. Broken soul. Good bait."
Quirrell heard only a blur of pressure and almost fainted.
Theodore heard clearly.
His expression became thoughtful.
"So it wants Voldemort."
Snape's head snapped toward him.
"Voldemort?"
Theodore glanced at him.
Snape's face had gone very still.
The name struck him harder than the lake's pressure.
Quirrell began trembling.
Voldemort's voice forced itself out of him.
"Lies."
Theodore smiled. "Severus is not stupid."
Snape's wand rose.
This time, it pointed at Quirrell.
The silence became dangerous.
Quirrell's eyes filled with panic.
"N-no, Professor, I—"
"Quiet," Snape said.
The word was soft.
That made it worse.
The lake node did not care about their human drama.
The black chain tightened.
More chains rose from Quirrell's shadow, crawling toward the water. The third node was trying to use Voldemort's damaged soul to loosen the ancient prison below.
Theodore finally moved.
He stepped forward and pressed his palm down.
"Heaven and Earth in My Palm."
Space folded.
The section of shore beneath Quirrell, the shadow chains, and the edge of the lake all shrank inward in Theodore's palm like a small model of the real world.
Quirrell felt the world tilt.
Snape saw the impossible.
One moment Quirrell was beside the lake.
The next, the distance between Theodore's hand and Quirrell's shadow seemed closer than distance should allow.
Wutu Divine Light fell like a seal.
Yimu Divine Light wrapped like living roots.
The black chains struggled, but this time they could not drag Quirrell forward.
The lake groaned.
The ancient being beneath it spoke again.
"Do not break the chain."
"I know."
"Do not feed it."
"I know."
"Then be faster."
Theodore laughed.
This ancient thing had a bad temper.
Good.
Things with temper were easier to read than things with endless patience.
He raised his other hand.
A green talisman formed from Willow Immortal's leaf and dropped onto Quirrell's shadow.
The talisman burned.
Quirrell screamed again.
Not from pain.
For one instant, the pressure of Voldemort's soul loosened.
The black chain, losing its grip on the parasite, snapped toward the lake.
Theodore closed his fingers.
The chain was caught.
A small black hook appeared in his palm.
It was cold, wet, and covered in tiny array markings.
The third node fragment.
Not the whole node.
Only a tooth.
Enough.
Theodore crushed it between Wutu and Yimu.
The hook became a dark green mark and vanished into the Wuzhuang foundation through Willow Immortal's roots.
The lake stilled.
Quirrell fell face-first onto the mud.
Voldemort disappeared deep into him again, hiding like a snake under stone.
Snape walked forward slowly.
His wand still pointed at Quirrell.
He looked at Theodore.
"Explain."
Theodore looked toward the lake.
"Professor Quirrell is carrying something he should not be carrying."
Snape's face was pale.
He already knew.
Or at least, he feared that he knew.
Theodore added calmly, "And the formation under Hogwarts wants to use it."
Snape's hand tightened around his wand.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he looked down at Quirrell and spoke through clenched teeth.
"Headmaster's office. Now."
Quirrell groaned.
From the castle, Fawkes suddenly cried.
Dumbledore was coming.
Theodore looked at the Black Lake one last time.
Under the water, the ancient golden eyes opened faintly.
"Four pieces," the voice said.
Theodore smiled.
"Yes."
The lake gave no reply.
But deep beneath the school, the Ten Absolute Arrays trembled.
The Wuzhuang foundation had taken another bite.
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