Before Leonard's eyes flashed the vision from when he had strengthened the Ancient Sprout—a wizard raising his wand, summoning a storm of raging thunder to scour the earth.
As the wand's gestures shifted, the writhing silver serpents of lightning fused together, forming a colossal pillar of thunder like a clawed beast. It crashed into a mountain peak.
The mountain shattered apart, crumbling to level ground beneath the overwhelming magic. Leonard stared in shock, oblivious to Midgard's frantic cries.
"Leonard? Leonard!" Midgard shook his shoulders. Seeing his vacant stare, she panicked and instinctively raised her hand, ready to deliver a "gentle" slap to wake him.
"W-wait! Hold on!" Leonard snapped back to focus just in time. The sight of her descending hand jolted him so much he nearly sprang out of her grasp.
"What are you doing? Would I even survive a slap like that?" Leonard shouted.
"I saw you blacking out! I was just trying to shock you awake," Midgard said.
"More like trying to send me to my grave," Leonard muttered, rubbing his face as he stood.
With her strength, she could probably knock through a solid wooden board in one hit. Leonard still remembered all too well the state of Fenrir's skull.
"I was holding back, I'm not stupid," Midgard rolled her eyes. "So what happened? You just collapsed out of nowhere."
"I didn't collapse. Just a little accident," Leonard said lightly.
He didn't tell her about the patterns on the wall or the magic that had flared in his mind. This wasn't the time. They weren't safe until they were clear of Gringotts.
Who knew what secrets lay behind that symbol and the hidden door—or how valuable they might be. Leonard wouldn't risk unknown treasure against trust and survival.
Midgard hadn't noticed the markings either, which was for the best. They were probably only visible through Magical Sight.
"Done with the Galleons?" Leonard asked.
"Yeah, all set." Midgard hefted the case.
"Then let's go." Leonard glanced once more at the wall. Compared to the piles of coins on the floor, that strange pattern and hidden door drew him far more.
But the Galleons mattered too.
He let his eyes linger on the glittering heap of gold, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
For a long while, money would no longer be a worry. He could even afford to be extravagant.
The two left the vault. The goblin sealed the door, then produced a parchment.
"Sir, please state your name," the goblin said.
"Leonard William," Leonard replied.
The goblin nodded, handing him the parchment. "Please sign here."
Leonard examined the parchment carefully.
It was a contract for permanent usage rights to the vault and one year of exclusive direct access. The terms looked sound.
Still, under the goblin's curious gaze, he scrutinized every edge for hidden clauses, checked for layered enchantments, and even flipped it over for concealed text.
Only after confirming nothing was amiss did Leonard finally sign his name.
Caution never hurt.
With everything settled, Leonard and Midgard boarded the cart and began the ride back to the surface.
The wheels clattered and roared as the cart accelerated upward.
After passing through the Thief's Downfall, both Leonard and Midgard noticed something strange.
The once dark, silent vault passages were now teeming with activity. Vast sections of the cavern showed collapse and structural damage, held together only by magic.
Scorch marks marred the walls, as though a battle had raged through.
Midgard stared at the devastation, then looked at Leonard in shock.
Leonard surveyed the scene. "Doesn't look like just a minor disturbance."
"No need for concern, guests. Everything is under control," the goblin said as he steered the cart. "As long as your vaults remain untouched, the rest is trivial, isn't it?"
"Quite so." Leonard nodded, saying nothing further.
Soon, the cart carried them to the surface. Back at the counter, the goblin sorted through papers before presenting Leonard with a finely crafted box containing a single key.
"Please keep this safe, sir." As Leonard accepted it, the goblin explained, "This is a Portkey for the direct passageway. At any time, you may use it to enter Gringotts. Someone will be waiting around the clock to assist you."
A magical VIP entrance, essentially.
Leonard nodded, tucked the key away, and departed under the goblin's watchful eyes.
...
Meanwhile, inside a residence in Knockturn Alley.
The homeowner lay dead on the floor, silent and still. His body bore no wounds, yet his face was twisted in horror, as though he had seen something unspeakable.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning flesh, undercut by wails that sounded like vengeful spirits crying out for blood.
At the source of the stench was a charred lump of flesh.
On what little remained of its face, a hollow mouth hung open, releasing a deep, mournful howl.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" hissed a venomous serpent, its body shrouded in black vapor as though it might evaporate at any moment.
"You useless fool! You cost me so much power, and still you failed to obtain the Philosopher's Stone!"
The serpent's furious words stabbed into the flesh like needles, making the body shudder violently.
Its eyes gleamed with cruelty as it hissed, "This body won't last much longer. And you… Quirrell, you're reaching your limit too."
The flesh quivered, letting out a desperate, pleading whimper.
"I know. I know you don't want to die. Neither do I." The serpent's voice dropped low. "I'll save you. But as punishment for your failure, I will reside within you."
The flesh stiffened, its convulsions ceasing.
"Do not fear. Though every host I take eventually dies, once we claim the Philosopher's Stone, you and I will both achieve immortality."
The serpent's voice dripped with temptation. "Without me, you'll be dead soon anyway."
Slowly, the flesh began to reform, as if conceding to the serpent's will.
"Good. That is my faithful servant. Only such a servant is worthy of my salvation."
As the serpent's voice grew faint, its body dissipated completely, leaving behind a cloud of black mist that sank into the flesh.
The body convulsed wildly, wracked by unbearable pain. Amid the torment, scorched skin sloughed away, replaced by tender new flesh.
At last, a thin, frail Quirrell staggered unsteadily to his feet.
"Th-thank you for saving me, Master," he said in a trembling voice.
"If you truly wish to thank me, then get me the Philosopher's Stone. Go to Hogwarts—the Stone is there."
Voldemort's voice resonated from the back of Quirrell's head. His body jolted, and he felt a strange quiver at the base of his skull.
Something had taken hold there...
Slowly, Quirrell turned.
In the blinding light of dusk, a grotesque serpent's face writhed across the back of his head!
...
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