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Anthony let out a long, heavy sigh.
"I hate killing people," he admitted frankly.
"You've said that before, I think," Quirrell chuckled weakly. "How amusing." Another fit of coughing overtook him. He raised a small vial to his lips, intending to take another sip, only to find the blood inside had completely solidified, capping the mouth of the bottle with a beautiful, silvery-white seal.
"Aguamenti."
Quirrell coughed, downed the conjured water in one go, and Anthony refilled it for him. Quirrell turned away, curling in on himself, hacking violently enough to tear his lungs out. He downed several more cups of water. At last, he managed to catch his breath, wheezing.
"So amusing," Quirrell said weakly. "Power so often scorns those who seek it, yet lavishes itself upon those who squander it." He paused, a flicker of cunning in his eyes. "Then again, you could be lying, couldn't you? Perhaps you haven't squandered your power at all. Perhaps you simply find easy victories… boring. My… my Lord once said that aside from him, the Necromancy you command could likely snuff out any life you chose with a thought. But the Dark Lord has conquered death. Is that why you've come here, Professor Anthony? To challenge the one you couldn't defeat? The one who walked away from your Necromancy unscathed last time?"
"You're trembling, Quirrell," Anthony observed. "Is this the power you speak of?"
"I… I do not possess my Lord's power," Quirrell stammered. "But even the fraction I've learned…"
Anthony stood up. Quirrell immediately fell silent.
"Is this what your master taught you?" Anthony looked down at the shivering man, gesturing vaguely towards the house beyond the trees. "To bully others? Or to tremble in fear?"
"I never claimed to be brave," Quirrell whispered, his voice shaking. "Is it not normal to be afraid in the face of death?"
"I didn't say I was going to kill you."
"No?" Quirrell looked up, meeting his gaze for a fleeting second. "Oh, but you want to. I see."
Anthony said nothing. The Necromancy coiled gently around Quirrell's soul like a delicate veil draped over a statue. Fear was a sharp mustard note, a jarring burst of spice in the soul's otherwise bland, slightly sour and bitter flavor. One gentle tug, and the statue would crumble to dust. And a soul with flavor… it was so tempting. Anthony knew, with the Felix Felicis humming in his veins, he could devour Quirrell's soul without experiencing that drunk, dizzy sensation. No risk of losing himself to the magic.
Quirrell had helped Voldemort infiltrate Hogwarts. He had murdered a unicorn. He had tortured innocents. By every measure—Muggle or magical—he deserved execution.
"This feels… right," Anthony said, raising his wand, pointing it at Quirrell. The Felix Felicis joyously guided his magic. Quirrell's face turned chalk-white. His breathing hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut, but tears leaked out regardless.
BANG!
With a loud crack, a scrawny rabbit appeared where Quirrell had been sitting. Birds in the trees erupted in panicked caws and scattered into the sky. The rabbit lay flat on the ground, eyes wide with terror, trembling violently.
Minerva McGonagall would have been quite proud of him—if not for the Felix Felicis.
Anthony tossed the rabbit to the Wraith Chicken. "But I'm not a judge."
Keeping Quirrell alive was more useful. He was living proof Voldemort still existed, ready to rip the wool from the Ministry's eyes. He had assisted Voldemort's research, likely knew many of his secrets, possibly even the reason his soul clung so stubbornly to the mortal world. Dumbledore could glean far more from Quirrell than Anthony ever could…
In short, as the Felix Felicis tightened its grip on his stomach, Anthony tried to explain this to it. But the discomfort only grew. As a corpse, he only felt pain this sharply for one reason: magic.
He was wondering if this was the potion's effect or a reaction to a spoiled brew when he heard Sirius's frantic voice cutting through the trees.
"Henry! Is that you, Henry? Henry!"
He realized with a start that the cat was speeding towards him.
"Sirius!" Anthony shouted back.
"Henry? Which way? Is something wrong?" Sirius's voice was closer. With a rustle of undergrowth, the dark-haired man burst out of the tree line.
"All fine, Sirius," Anthony said. "What's wrong?"
Sirius saw him standing unharmed under the tree. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping.
"Merlin, Henry. I found Voldemort's camp. He must be close. The trail seemed to head your way, so I thought…" He shrugged. "Well, I worried too much. You've got the Felix, after all—oh, damn."
He leaned against a nearby tree, hunching his shoulders, a pained expression on his face.
"You alright?" Anthony asked, concerned.
"Fine. This bloody potion just… stole my breath for a second," Sirius said, straightening up. "But we've got a lead. Find anything here?" His gaze landed on the giant snake's corpse, then on the rabbit pinned under the Wraith Chicken's claws. "What's this? Rescued a rabbit?"
"I'll explain in a bit," Anthony said, distracted. He was trying to shrink the dead snake and stuff it into his pocket.
The Wraith Chicken pecked him sharply in protest. Sirius pushed it aside, grabbed the rabbit by its ears, and lifted Quirrell up.
"Some kind of Transfiguration," Sirius observed, pulling out his wand.
"Don't!" Anthony said quickly. "That's Quirrell!"
But Quirrell seized the moment. The instant Sirius's focus wavered, he jerked free, landed on the ground, and bolted. The Wraith Chicken gave furious chase, wings beating, claws raking the fleeing rabbit's back. It even found time to turn and deliver a savage peck to Sirius's boot leather, leaving deep dents.
"Stupefy!" Sirius yelled.
A red jet shot through the chicken's transparent body, hitting the ground less than an inch from the rabbit. The Wraith Chicken scolded him loudly, rising slightly into the air. Quirrell twisted, darting for the bushes—
"Impedimenta!" Anthony tried to stop him, but the jinx missed. His gut was still uncomfortably clenched from the potion.
Sirius slashed his wand. "Incarcerous!"
Thick ropes materialized and flew towards Quirrell, only to snag immediately on the dense branches of a bush. Branches shook. Leaves fell. Dust swirled. The rabbit ran. Without another thought, Anthony joined Sirius in the chase.
"Incendio! Incendio! Incendio!"
Bush after bush erupted into flame. In the rolling black smoke, the ginger cat shot out from the side trees and pounced on the scrawny rabbit. The rabbit kicked frantically. The Wraith Chicken swooped down.
"You know, Henry, I think you might have a point," Sirius said, slightly winded, watching the rabbit tremble in the firelight. "That Felix might be off. I'm feeling a bit unlucky now. Aguamenti."
"Not feeling great either," Anthony agreed, joining Sirius in dousing the flames with water-conjuring charms. That unpleasant feeling still churned in his stomach.
Hunger, a tiny voice seemed to whisper. Famished… you were so close to a decent tea… Anthony shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought. It was just a stomachache, he decided.
"Let's head back," Anthony said.
Sirius nodded, looking around. "Right, but…" He placed his wand flat on his palm. "Point Me."
The wand spun once, then pointed steadfastly into the deep woods to their right. The dripping, charred bushes stood like blackened bones, smelling of damp smoke.
"North is that way?" Sirius frowned. "Odd… Point Me." He repeated the charm. The wand wobbled on his palm, then pointed decisively to the left.
"Point Me," Sirius said again, his voice low. This time, the wand spun and pointed behind them.
Sirius pocketed his wand, gripping it tightly in his hand, his eyes scanning the surroundings with new alertness. "This place is wrong, Henry."
Anthony placed his own wand on his palm and whispered, "Point Me."
The wand spun a full circle before settling, pointing straight ahead of them. Sirius shot a grim look at Anthony's result, his knuckles white around his wand.
"What does this mean?" Anthony whispered.
Sirius didn't answer. His breathing was so shallow it was almost silent. The only sounds were the soft, wet crackle of burning branches and an oppressive, total silence.
The cat picked up Quirrell in its mouth and sat down primly. Rabbit-Quirrell hung limply, head lolling, sparse and slightly singed fur matted with blood, twitching occasionally.
Suddenly, leaves rustled—a soft, dry whisper. Sirius instantly whipped his wand around, aiming intently into the dark woods. They waited. Nothing happened. The cat lay down. Maybe just the wind? Another rustle—still nothing.
"Location's been masked, and I can't Apparate," Sirius explained in a hushed voice. "Something's hidden here. Something big. Could be Albania's magical school. Which means a lot of wizards who don't speak our language."
Anthony wished he didn't know the answer.
"It's Voldemort."
Sirius frowned. "He should be the other way. The Felix—"
He cut himself off, crouching lower, his entire focus locked on the woods ahead. A louder, more distinct rustling came from the trees. A moment later, three large snakes slid into view.
"Reducto!" Sirius hissed. The spell struck the middle snake's tail. It reared its head in pain and fury, hissing, and launched itself towards the source of the attack.
"Impedimenta! Protego!" Anthony swung his wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"
His Body-Bind jinx went wide. Sirius's Freezing Charm wasn't much better. Anthony hurled four or five Severing Charms in quick succession before finally cutting the central snake in two. The snake on the right was putting up a frantic fight against the Wraith Chicken's relentless pecks. More snakes poured from the trees like a living tide, slithering over the grass in a writhing, scaly mass.
"Incendio!" Sirius yelled. "Incendio! Don't bother aiming, Henry! Our luck's completely gone!"
Long snakes slid endlessly from the high branches, their scales shimmering with an eerie glow in the firelight. The Wraith Chicken flapped through the horde, leaving a deep, bloody hole in the head of every snake that came near. Sirius roared, tangling six or seven snakes near him into a knot of living yarn before hurling them away like a bowling ball. The cat tossed Quirrell aside and joined the fray.
Anthony pointed at the center of the swarm. "Bombarda!" The nearest tree exploded with a deafening boom, raining burning splinters like fireworks.
"Henry!"
"Right," Anthony agreed, dodging a lunging serpent. "Our luck is gone. Impedimenta!"
The snakes in front of him were thrown back, writhing through the air before landing deep within the churning tide. Immediately, more took their place.
"Too many!" Sirius shouted.
"Never seen so many snakes," Anthony said. "Feels like we fell into a bait bucket. You know? The ones full of tangled worms…"
"You're ridiculous," Sirius barked a laugh. "Impedimenta!" Another wave of snakes went flying.
Anthony turned, putting Sirius to his back, and unleashed a wave of pure menace towards the other side of the slithering horde. The advancing snakes recoiled in terror, slithering back six or seven feet, suddenly revealing a patch of clear grass. But before Anthony could press the advantage, they surged forward again, driven by a force they feared even more.
Anthony fired random Body-Bind jinxes into the sea of snakes—thankfully, sheer numbers made up for his aim—but for every one that stiffened, two more seemed to join the encroaching tide.
"My Patronus is a pretty big bear," Anthony said suddenly.
"What?"
"I said, my Patronus is a big bear! We could ride it out of here!"
"Ride it where?" Sirius countered, blasting a cluster of snakes apart. "We don't know where 'here' is! And if this really is Voldemort, then this is exactly where we need to be! Incendio—" His eyes glittered fiercely in the firelight, fixed on the curling, burning snake corpses. "I'm not running now!"
Anthony pointed out, "But we're unlucky."
"Of course we are! Unlucky enough to actually find Voldemort! There's no better chance! I should have realized!"
Anthony glanced at him. Sirius brought his wand down in a vicious slash. A huge explosion tore through the snake swarm in front of Anthony.
"Petrificus Totalus! Focus, Henry! Diffindo! Diffindo! Incendio!"
"Alright. Stand back, Sirius," Anthony said, pocketing his wand.
Sirius didn't turn. "What? Bombarda!"
"Away from me," Anthony repeated. Then he reached out towards the sea of snakes.
Ah, souls. Snakes. Tiny, flavorless souls. A hint of fear, like bubbles in soda water. Their only virtue was quantity, their taste barely a step above nothing. Snake. Snake. Snake. More snake. Another snake. A school of snakes like sardines. Ah, that salad-like thing. He remembered he couldn't eat that one. But why? Never mind. Snake. Snake. Snake. Snake.
Something that smelled rather good over there made a sound: "I-Incendio!"
But couldn't be eaten either. Annoying. Snake. Snake. Snake.
"Expecto Patronum, uh…" the inedible thing said. "Henry…"
Henry? Snake. Snake. Snake. Snake. Wait. Henry?
Anthony snapped back to himself. He whirled around. Sirius was gripping his wand, face bone-white, teeth clenched, brows furrowed in profound discomfort. In front of them, the grass was littered with motionless snake corpses.
"Sirius?" Anthony moved quickly to support him.
"Merlin, Henry. What did you just do?" Sirius gasped, sucking in deep breaths. "Was that… calling a Dementor? Blimey, you're cold as ice too."
"How do you feel?"
"Like I'm back in Azkaban. Almost as pleasant as going home," Sirius managed a weak smile. "Anyway, no more snakes to worry about—"
He didn't finish. Another wave of snakes slid from the trees.
"You're joking," Sirius said with profound disgust.
But this time, the snakes stopped about ten feet away. A low, evil hissing filled the air, raising the hairs on the back of Anthony's neck. Three or four enormous serpents moved with unsettling gentleness, lifting a bundled shape between them. As it rose, the bundle revealed a flat, snake-like face. Sirius made no sound, but his breathing grew shallow and rapid. Anthony wondered if he, too, was frantically reviewing everything he knew about magical side effects, especially those involving flesh and blood.
The terrible red eyes on the snake-face flicked towards the unconscious rabbit. A wand tip emerged from the bundle and pointed. Quirrell shimmered and returned to human form, crumpled on the ground.
"See what my servant has brought before me?" Voldemort whispered, the sound slithering through the silence. "Forgive my… unpresentable state, Professor Anthony. Circumstances force this humble form upon me. Ah, yes. I have so looked forward to seeing you again."
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