New Term Plans

Once the students had eaten their fill, the main courses gradually disappeared from their plates, replaced by all kinds of desserts. When the desserts had vanished too, the opening feast for the new term came to an end. Dumbledore stood up again, and the Great Hall fell quiet once more.

"Now that everyone has eaten and drunk their fill, I have a few more things to say. At the start of the term, I'd like to remind you of a few rules."

"First-years, the forest on the school grounds is forbidden to all students. Some of our older students would do well to remember that, too." Dumbledore's bright eyes swept toward the Weasley Twins.

"Also, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, asked me to remind everyone not to use magic in the corridors between classes. Quidditch tryouts will be held during the second week of term. Anyone hoping to join their House team should contact Madam Hooch."

"Finally, I must tell you that anyone who does not wish to suffer an accidental and painful death should not enter the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor."

A few muffled chuckles rippled through the students.

Avada nodded slightly. He planned to obey that rule—for now.

How long "for now" lasted depended on when he finished his research, and whether he could come up with a convincing reason for Dumbledore.

Honestly, he'd always thought Dumbledore's trap for luring Voldemort was absurdly designed. The Philosopher's Stone was something of immense importance, yet Dumbledore didn't carry it on his person. He'd even deliberately left it out of his sight, with a string of obstacles in front of it—every one of them, except for Cerberus, at a first-year level. And note, they were "obstacles," not "barriers" or "traps." They were the kind one could pass through perfectly legitimately.

Most importantly, Dumbledore had told the entire school where the place was, without explicitly forbidding anyone from entering. Anyone who didn't know better might think the school had opened some hidden quest, with the Philosopher's Stone as the grand prize.

Avada was certain that before Harry and the others ever tried their hand at the obstacles, countless Gryffindors had already tested them out. For all he knew, some especially skilled students might even have cleared the whole thing. As for what punishment Dumbledore, who was watching the obstacles the whole time, had dealt them afterward, Avada had no idea.

What's more, Dumbledore had underestimated how well Voldemort could flee in his disembodied state. In the original story, Voldemort had been driven into such a corner, yet still managed to slip away from Dumbledore. That was probably why he'd been confident enough to give it a try, even knowing it was an obvious trap.

Surely no one could think the Dark Lord had been reduced to such a state of stupidity that he couldn't recognize a trap like this?

And Avada might—possibly, perhaps—have a way to control Voldemort in his disembodied state. How feasible it was depended on whether he could successfully analyze that mass of dark-gold mental energy. If he could, he'd make up a reason to approach Dumbledore and join his fishing expedition. If he couldn't... then he'd be a good student and let the year pass uneventfully.

Finally, after the school song—just as chaotic as it had been last year—came to an end, the students followed their respective House groups to their common rooms.

With Tonks having graduated, the one leading the Hufflepuff group was their newly appointed Prefect, Gabriel Truman. He told the first-years to stay close, then led them to the pile of barrels beside the kitchens. There, he explained once again how to enter the common room, and what happened if they got it wrong...

Unfortunately, this year's Hufflepuffs weren't particularly imaginative. Not one of them figured out for themselves what the vinegar was really for.

Once they were back in the familiar common room, the Prefects led the new students off to see their dormitories and learn what all the facilities were for. The older students settled in twos and threes around the fireplace and began chattering about what they'd seen at the opening feast.

"Harry Potter really did end up in Gryffindor. What a shame he didn't come to our House."

Someone remarked lazily, prompting an immediate rebuttal.

"Actually, there's no need to worry. If the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor, then Gryffindor must be the place best suited to him. We should be glad the Chosen One has found a home..."

"Fine, you're right. Still, thank goodness he didn't go to Slytherin. I've heard a little about what those people have been saying about Harry. If it's true... well, I can't even imagine.

"That's just wishful thinking... Oh, by the way, what do you think Headmaster Dumbledore meant with that last remark?"

"Anyone who doesn't wish to suffer an accidental and painful death shouldn't enter the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor... So if I don't mind suffering an accidental and painful death, I can go in whenever I want?"

"Yikes..."

Avada, who was sitting with his legs crossed and quietly sipping milk tea, curled his lip. Even the most sensible Hufflepuffs had noticed how strange that remark was. There'd probably be Gryffindors sneaking out tonight, then charging in without a second thought.

Good luck to them. Cerberus wasn't something ordinary people could handle, and few knew its weakness. Avada guessed that it would take a seventh-year who'd studied Care of Magical Creatures and had access to secret knowledge passed down through their family to have any chance of getting past Fluffy. But seventh-years had a heavy workload, so that might not happen until much later—or perhaps not at all.

As for brute force, Avada hadn't believed it could work from the start. If even Snape had been stumped, how could students who hadn't graduated be expected to take on Cerberus?

Enough. Back to my research.

He shook his head, pretended to yawn sleepily, then left the common room and returned to his dormitory. He pulled out a notebook and began jotting down his thoughts.

When he'd seen the Thestral on the carriage ride, he'd resolved to focus all his efforts on breaking the seal on the Black Giant Book first. But when he entered the Great Hall and sensed Voldemort's mental energy, he realized how rash he'd been. Dealing with Voldemort was clearly the most important matter right now. What he needed to do was analyze Voldemort's altered mental energy as soon as possible, then determine whether his idea would work on him.

And he shouldn't forget that the professor knew his real name. Would Voldemort, a Dark Lord who could use a jet of green light as a flashlight, take an interest in him?

And since Avada needed to analyze Voldemort's mental energy, he also needed to approach Professor Quirrell and interact more with him—and with Voldemort, attached to the back of his head. How should he act around him?

Quirrell had a mission of his own, after all. He couldn't spend all his time answering students' questions. So how could Avada keep him from becoming suspicious, while also avoiding annoying him or making him wary by asking too many questions? And how should he deal with any interest Voldemort might take in him? Those were all problems he needed to solve.

The one thing that reassured him was that he'd mastered Occlumency quite well. From what had happened in the original story, Voldemort seemed to have retained the ability to use Legilimency. But even at the height of his power, Voldemort hadn't been able to see through Snape's Occlumency. Now he was terribly weak, and Avada's Occlumency was copied straight from Snape's. On top of that, Avada had his Magic Sense constantly monitoring changes in his mental energy. All of these factors greatly improved his own safety.