Locksmith Voldemort and the Case of the Stolen Potion Ingredient Library

Night.

Draco lay still, feigning sleep.

Last time, they had clearly agreed to ambush Tom together at night, yet he had inexplicably fallen asleep that evening, leaving his accomplice next door hanging all night long.

"How strange—why did I just conk out that day?"

Both were pure-bloods, both aristocrats; neither was inferior to the other.

That blown-off rendezvous had tanked Draco's credibility among his peers.

It had taken him two whole days just to smooth things over with them.

"Tonight, I have to pull off the sneak attack," Draco clenched his fist inwardly.

He had organized another ambush, but this time the real goal wasn't revenge—it was to re-establish his prestige and trust among his companions.

To avoid falling asleep for no reason again, he kept one hand pinching his own arm the entire time, making sure he stayed alert.

He listened quietly for footsteps outside the door, waited until the patrolling prefect had moved on...

"Alright, now!"

Draco stealthily rolled out of bed, and immediately spotted a shadowy figure creeping toward the door.

"You're—mmph!"

Before he could get a good look, a hand suddenly clamped over Draco's mouth.

At that moment, Draco felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if this had happened a few days ago.

"Don't panic. You're just having a nightmare. Go back to sleep and it'll be fine."

Hearing that oddly familiar whisper by his ear, Draco drifted off once more.

Tom gently placed the little blond head back on the pillow, muttering to himself in confusion.

"How bizarre. Don't young people sleep at night anymore?"

With the witness dealt with, Tom quietly slipped out the door.

Thanks to his previous night-time escapade, Tom navigated his way out of the common room with practiced ease.

And waiting for him at the common room entrance was already someone.

"Not bad. You're here quite early."

Tom thought he had moved fast enough, setting off the moment curfew began, but Quirrell, who lived in his office, had beaten him to it.

"Serving the Dark Lord, I dare not be negligent," Quirrell said with a slight bow.

The Voldemort living on the back of his head found this scene deeply unsettling.

Even though he had accepted the false reality of being a Horcrux, his subjective consciousness still operated on Voldemort's mode of thinking.

Watching the body he parasitized address another man as "my lord" gave him an odd sense of being beneath someone else.

Ever since leaving Borgin and Burkes, he had never groveled to anyone again.

Now.

With the pleasantries out of the way, it was time for business.

To brew the Vitality Potion, they needed access to Snape's ingredient stores.

Snape's office was near the Slytherin common room, so the two reached it in just a few steps.

Eyeing the office door sealed with a Locking Charm, Quirrell relaxed his body and handed over control.

With a brief shudder, Quirrell's posture straightened, shedding his usual cowering demeanor. A faint aura of superiority, of one born to rule, emanated from him.

He drew his wand and aimed the tip at the lock.

Alohomora was a handy unlocking charm, but it had one flaw: it could produce noise when unlocking the door, potentially drawing attention.

Every teacher's office had a bedroom area, so most professors lived there—Snape was no exception.

With Snape's years of dark-alley vigilance, if he heard the sound of a lock being picked, he would react in no time.

A flash of light.

"Done." Voldemort pushed the door gently.

No sound of a lock clicking, not even the usual creak of an old wooden door. The Potions Master's office door swung open in utter silence.

"Snape has grown too comfortable. Back during the wizarding war, a door wouldn't open this quietly," Voldemort murmured in a low, hollow voice.

He swept his gaze across the office and quickly spotted a particular wooden door.

The door was thick with concentrated magic, and the lock bore a Locking Charm far more complex than the one on the office entrance.

But to Voldemort's spellcraft, these were no obstacle.

Soon, a storage room packed with bottles and jars of all shapes and sizes lay before the three of them.

"Whoa~" Quirrell's eyes went wide.

Even if he emptied his entire personal stash, he probably couldn't afford even a fraction of what was in here.

Voldemort immediately set to work, following the earlier plan, quickly gathering the materials needed to brew the Vitality Potion.

St. John's wort, Mint, Chamomile...

He took as many as the shelves held, clearing out every jar of the required ingredients.

"What are you doing? Why take so many?" Tom shot him a direct glare, looking at him like he was an idiot.

"What's wrong?" Voldemort and Quirrell were both baffled, unable to understand why Tom was reacting so strongly.

"If you only take these few things, it's obvious you're making a Vitality Potion. If I end up with residual traces of it on me later, and Snape finds out, what then?"

"Oh, right!" The two realized their mistake.

"Then take everything. That way, no one will know what potion we're making."

Voldemort simply pulled out a magical pouch, intending to loot all the materials on site.

But before he could do so, he was met with another glare from Tom.

"What now?" Voldemort asked irritably, his voice rising a notch.

"Are you stupid? If you clean out the entire ingredient store, Snape will hide the new one completely next time. If we run short on potion materials later, it won't be so easy to get them."

Tom looked at Voldemort with some exasperation.

Splitting one's soul not only turned a person into a paranoid lunatic—it seemed to lower their IQ as well.

"Then what do we do?" Voldemort stood frozen on the spot, his mind struggling to keep up.

"Simple. Misdirection."

Venom of the Horned Beast, Fire Lizard Bile, Wolfsbane root...

They took a bunch of toxic ingredients that could be combined with the Vitality Potion's materials.

That way, when Snape discovered it later, he'd mistakenly think someone was brewing poison, and overlook Tom's plan.

Before leaving the ingredient store, Tom also took small amounts of Rue Em Blood and Lanian Horsehair—materials for a Stimulant.

A Stimulant temporarily boosts the power of one's magic.

The Dueling Club was coming up soon, and to shine brightly, Tom decided to brew some enhancement potions so he could perform beyond his usual limits during the match.

"Does this count as doping?" Tom muttered to himself.

Suddenly feeling a distinct lack of sportsmanship.

No, it doesn't.

Potions aren't the same as Muggle stimulants. Stimulants drain the body's potential, forcibly drawing out latent power, while potions rely on the magical energy within the brew to strengthen oneself.

Unless you drink an excessive amount at once, there's no harm to the body.

Having finished everything, Tom and the other slipped away quietly.

As for the broken Locking Charm, they didn't bother restoring it.

Snape brewed potions every day, so he'd naturally visit the ingredient store daily to take samples. With so much taken this time, he'd notice it the moment he arrived.