[Your Botanical Garden has welcomed its first visitors.]
[Two guests in total, with ratings of 1000 and 50.]
[Your loyal Chomping Cabbage provided perfect service to your guests. Two visitors in total; one received perfect service.]
[Perfect service recipient rating: 50.]
[You have earned 50 Evolution Points.]
The system notifications flashed before Leonard's eyes. He stared at the maliciously playful messages, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Did they really treat the Botanical Garden like a tourist attraction? What kind of tourist spot was this supposed to be? A place packed with lethal plants like this was far too demanding on visitors.
What made it even worse was that the danger wasn't limited to the garden itself. It extended to the so-called "security guards" inside it.
Security guards that suddenly jumped out, chased you down, bit you, and could even teleport. Just thinking about it was enough to make anyone panic.
Leonard opened his eyes in the darkness. "080."
At that moment, an explosion echoed from outside Hogwarts Castle. That was only to be expected. After absorbing four magical powers from the legendary Dark Lord, an explosion of this scale was perfectly reasonable. Anything less would have been an insult to that title.
"If I'd known, I should've enchanted the Chomping Cabbages with my Soul-series spells," Leonard muttered regretfully. "Maybe I could've kept the mysterious figure here."
With that thought, he took out the Philosopher's Stone.
Under magical sight, the power sealed within the stone felt almost tangible.
It reminded him slightly of a phoenix.
A phoenix's magic burned like the sun, fierce and blazing. The Philosopher's Stone, by contrast, was gentle and tranquil, like moonlight. This was the Philosopher's Stone, the pinnacle of alchemy, the legendary artifact capable of producing the Elixir of Immortality.
"Turning lead into gold is useless, and I don't need immortality either," Leonard murmured, staring at the stone in his hand. "So what exactly is this thing for?"
He studied the softly glowing stone and could only comfort himself with one thought.
At least it looked nice.
That was all.
To the outside world, the Philosopher's Stone was priceless. To Leonard, its only merit was that it looked fairly pleasing.
"Whatever. I'll figure out what it does some other time."
Leonard shook his head, tucked the stone into his dragon-hide gloves, hid it beneath his pillow, pulled the blanket over himself, and closed his eyes.
After a whole night of work, it was finally time to sleep.
...
While Leonard slept soundly, the professors of Hogwarts Castle were dragged out of bed by Hagrid and Filch and brought to the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.
Everyone was present except Quirrell.
He didn't need to be summoned. He was already there, waiting for the professors and the headmaster.
Snape, who had insisted on throwing on his cloak even after being woken, crouched in front of a severed head like an enormous bat. His brows were tightly knit, his expression grim.
The entrance to the Forbidden Forest was littered with bodies.
Or rather, a gruesome sprawl of flesh and blood. Limbs and heads were scattered everywhere, reduced to an unrecognizable mess. Aside from traces of an explosion, there were no useful clues.
"To be honest, I'm not entirely certain this is Quirrell," Snape said slowly as he stood up. "This face… if it can even be called a face anymore. There's no structure left at all. I can't determine what kind of magic caused this."
Possibly.
The self-destruction of Leonard's plants was usually nothing more than a crude burst of raw magic. Naturally, no specific spell could be identified from that alone.
As for Quirrell's missing face, it was the result of a bloody sacrificial ritual combined with Voldemort forcefully occupying his body. Both were far beyond Snape's understanding.
"Can you tell how he died?" Professor McGonagall asked, her expression severe.
"Blown apart," Snape replied, shaking his head. "But I can't identify the spell. The remaining parts of the body are also… strange. Especially the limbs. They're twisted beyond recognition. Combined with that face, it's hard to imagine what this corpse went through, either before or after death."
"But this is undoubtedly Quirrell's body," Snape continued, glancing at the other professors. "The clothing alone makes that clear, not to mention the other obvious signs."
Among the assembled professors, Quirrell was the only one missing.
In truth, Snape felt no particular concern over Quirrell's death. Dead was dead. If anything, it spared him the irritation of watching that troublemaking, utterly incompetent man continue to occupy the Defense Against the Dark Arts post.
Good riddance.
"But why did he die here?" Professor McGonagall asked. "At the edge of the Forbidden Forest?"
"That's something you should ask Albus," Snape said, turning toward the late-arriving elder wizard. "It seems you've discovered something else."
The professors shifted their gaze to Dumbledore as he approached slowly. The moment they saw his expression, they froze.
None of them had ever seen that look on Dumbledore's face before. In their memories, he had always appeared calm and in control, never losing his composure, not even when facing Grindelwald.
At that moment, every professor realized the same thing.
Something had gone badly beyond this wise old man's expectations.
"The Philosopher's Stone is gone," Dumbledore said after drawing a deep breath.
"The Philosopher's Stone… gone?" Snape stared at him in disbelief. "Impossible. The Dark Lord couldn't have passed your Mirror of Erised."
As for the other obstacles, including the ones he himself had set, Snape didn't mention them at all. Everyone understood those trials were meant for Harry Potter, not Voldemort.
The only defense truly prepared for Voldemort was the final one: the Mirror of Erised. Dumbledore had enchanted it so that only someone who desired the Philosopher's Stone without any intention of abusing it could obtain it.
With the mirror's ability to reveal a person's deepest desires, no one should have been able to take the stone.
Shock spread across the faces of the other professors.
"The Dark Lord has the Philosopher's Stone?" Professor Sprout exclaimed. "Does that mean he's about to be resurrected?"
"There have been rumors going around lately about the Dark Lord's return," Professor Flitwick said with a sigh. "I thought they were just exaggerations and jokes. I never imagined they might become reality."
"This isn't the time for speculation," Professor McGonagall said firmly, keeping her composure. "Albus, are you certain it was the Dark Lord?"
"It must have been him," Dumbledore replied, pointing toward Quirrell's shattered remains. "I can't think of anyone else who would do this. I suspect he obtained the Philosopher's Stone and then used Quirrell's body to attempt an escape toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, planning to Apparate away. Quirrell was likely killed to silence him."
"So he really was the Dark Lord's inside man," Snape said coldly. "Then he truly deserved to die."
...
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