Chapter 222: Quirrell’s Curious Experience
In the dead of night, in a silent corridor on the fourth floor, a figure in a long black robe slipped past Filch's patrol undetected.
Since meeting the Dark Lord in Albania, Quirrell's once routine life had transformed dramatically. He now had a new, singular purpose: to help the Dark Lord rise again. If he succeeded, Quirrell knew he could achieve power he had only dreamed of—perhaps even replace someone as lofty as Barty Crouch and become the new Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Or, if he dared to reach higher... the Minister of Magic! Such ambition no longer seemed impossible.
Though he hadn't been the first to join the Dark Lord's followers, he believed he could surpass even the most notorious Death Eaters by stealing the Philosopher's Stone and enabling the Dark Lord's resurrection. Bellatrix, Sirius Black... Names like these held fame, but what good was that? When the Dark Lord needed them most, they were rotting in Azkaban. Now, only he, Quirinus Quirrell, had remained loyal and capable enough to restore his master's power.
Why should they get to reclaim glory after they'd been little more than Dementor fodder?
And the Dark Lord had promised him so much. In return for his success, Quirrell would receive limitless power, unimaginable wealth, and, above all else, immortality.
Staring at the worn wooden door before him, Quirrell felt a feverish anticipation rise in his chest. If he could pass through the challenges ahead, then power, riches, and eternal life were his for the taking!
He'd spent all year researching, probing, and observing, learning as much as he could about the obstacles set up by the other professors. The only mystery remaining was Snape's barrier. He'd even managed to learn how to pacify the Three-Headed Dog—Fluffy, that troublesome creature—by bargaining for a dragon egg. Procuring it hadn't been easy, as the Ministry had ramped up inspections of magical creatures, especially after the chaos with last year's Swooping Evil. Quirrell had drained nearly all his savings, paying ten times the market price to buy the egg from a European wizard.
Playing the bumbling fool had been a necessary inconvenience. After all, if he could secure the Philosopher's Stone, no number of Galleons would matter.
Now, Dumbledore had been lured away to London by a forged letter, and Snape was off scouring the Forbidden Forest for a Death Eater who didn't exist. Every detail of his plan was falling into place. Nothing could stop him now.
Quirrell drew out a large harp and cast a charm to make it play a soft, hypnotic melody. Fluffy's three heads would soon be lulled to sleep. Taking a deep breath to steady his trembling hands, he pushed open the door.
"Sleep, big guy, sleep well..."