Chapter 312: Convergence

"Potter, you should know that I've retired," said Quinn, flipping a page on his book— charmed to be perceived as an advance charms potions book. "If you need help, you know where to find Astoria Greengrass."

Harry halted in his steps; he stared at Quinn awkwardly for a moment before walking to the seat in front of Quinn. He looked around the silent Hogwarts library before retrieving his holly wand and muttering, "Muffliato," — for an invisible dome to spread out from the wand tip around the table and then some distance.

Quinn's eyes twitched as he felt the magic envelop him. He closed his disguised soul magic book and gently placed it on the book before folding his fingers together to look up at Harry.

"You're putting me in a difficult situation," he said. "If Astoria hears that I'm intruding on her business when I clearly declared my retirement, she'd think that I'm trying to undermine her."

"I won't tell anyone," said Harry, "and I really need some advice."

Quinn tapped his index finger on the tabletop while staring down the boy-who-lived, who squirmed under his gaze. He wondered if hearing to Harry would benefit him more than Astoria's possible ire, and the answer was obvious: it was worth it— and his gut told him that he should listen to him.

"Alright, if you insist, let's hear it," he said, snapping his finger to dispel the annoying(inferior) silencing spell to replace it with his efficient(superior) sound spell. "Much better, now feel free to pour your heart on the table; I shall hear you out."

Harry looked around the table with softly squished brows and suddenly burst into a loud shout when he saw two people walk nearby them, but his voice didn't seem to reach them.

"It seems the spell is working."

"Of course, it's working; I'm the one who cast it. Now, is disrespecting me the reason you disturbed my precious reading time, or do you have something of actual substance to talk about."

"Sorry, but I had to make sure no one was listening."

"Then approach me somewhere that isn't a public place."

"Normally, I would do so; however, with AID being out of the question, there isn't a single time or place where I can pin you except for, of course, the great hall, but that's more a hundred times more eye-catching than here," said Harry and gave Quinn an accusatory look. "I'm not an idiot, you know."

"So it'd seem," said Quinn with a smile. "You've got a point, young Potter; go ahead, tell me what ails you."

Harry once more scoured the area with a cautionary gaze before leaning over the table. "Listen, Malfoy has been doing something suspicious. He's been sneaking around the castle, and I fear he's planning something dangerous. . . .

Quinn listened to Harry impassive on his face, but his mind sharpened. After all, he had thought of this scenario.

". . . more importantly, I have found that he has been using the Room of Requirement, but I can't seem to find what' room' he has been requesting during his visits."

Quinn's tapping finger froze in mid-air. He, of course, knew that; he had even seen Malfoy's thing-of-interest. But for the sake of appearances, he had to put on a surprised front.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Harry nodded, "I have put Dobby on his tail—"

"Who's this Dobby you talk about?"

"Ah, err, he's a house-elf, who previously worked for Malfoys, but now is under Hogwart's employment— so, I asked him to follow Malfoy, and with their terrible history, he was more than happy to do so."

"I see now, a house-elf," Quinn nodded. "Hmm. . . what more evidence do you have for your assumption."

"?? Huh, you need more evidence. Why? He's using the Room of Requirements?!"

"And so did we, and were we doing something harmful," Quinn paused, "well, from a certain point-of-view, we were disobeying the authority. Take me, I've been 'allegedly' using the Room of Requirement for years, and I've not been doing something wrong— err, wait, I did use the room during the curfew. . . whatever, you get my point— Malfoy using the Room of Requirements isn't necessarily something bad."

Harry jerked back and stared at Quinn with stunned eyes full of shock. "Are you serious. . . ? This is Malfoy we're talking about."

Quinn shrugged, "While his reputation doesn't help Malfoy in this case, we can't automatically judge him guilty— especially when the accusation is coming from someone like you, who isn't particularly a neutral party." He sighed when he saw Harry's unchanging astonishment expressions. "Let's say that Malfoy is indeed doing something malicious; what do you want me to do here?"

"We obviously need to find what he's doing and then put a stop to it!"

"And how do you purpose we do that? As you said, we don't know what he requests from the Room of Requirement or even what time he enters the Room of Requirement, and I don't think we can use your friend Dobby to find it as Hogwarts house-elves are quite busy."

"That's why I came to you," said Harry, immediately and leaning forward enthusiastically. "We can you use the box that you used in Umbridge's office and place it in front of the Room of Requirement's entrance, over the troll's tapestry to know what time he visits and how long he stays."

Quinn stopped his hand from jolting. He didn't think his spy-spider™ would be brought up in this conversation. But this was Harry Potter, the one who had planted it in Umbridge's office. Moreover, it made complete sense, and even without a single second of thought, anyone could see that it was the near-perfect solution for this problem.

'Damn you, Potter, now this is a vexing conundrum. What should I do here. . . .'

He didn't, by any chance, want Harry to interfere with Malfoy's 'mission.' There was too much riding upon this, and he just couldn't risk any opposing factor to derail what he had been patiently waiting for.

". . . That's an excellent idea, Harry," said Quinn, "that indeed solves the problem, at least partially— we still wouldn't know what he's requesting."

"I know, but isn't something better than nothing. I also think that the video will be able to provide us much more than just the time and duration."

Quinn nodded, even if quite reluctantly. "I'll prepare the recorder and install it in place. I suggest that we wait for at least a week or even two catch if there's a pattern in Malfoy's visits." That'd be enough time for Malfoy to complete his initial task, and by then, it'd be too late for anyone to do anything to stop it.

Harry nodded in agreement, even if there was a furrow between his brows. Quinn smiled. Unlike him, who knew that Malfoy's plans were to come into fruition this year itself, Harry had no idea that what he worried about was already near its completion.

'Unlike the original, he was months late in finding out about Malfoy's strange behavior,' he thought.

"Malfoy's not looking well these days, all pale, and it looks like he has even lost some weight," said Harry, "which could mean that whatever he's doing is not going well. It's good that he's struggling."

"That may be the case," said Quinn in agreement. But on the inside, he shook his head, 'The worry, however, is what to come next. . . ah, familial pressure can be tough; I'm lucky in that regard.'

"How're you doing these days, Harry," asked Quinn, now that the Malfoy topic was over. "I heard you've been visiting the headmaster's office quite a lot this year— even I, the headboy, hasn't visited the headmaster's office once this year."

Harry blinked and his mouth open and closed, clearly flustered from the sudden change in topic. He was about to splutter an answer when Quinn laughed and saved him from uttering a feeble excuse.

"I guess, having a close relationship with the headmaster since birth and the favoritism that comes with it does come with some caveats," said Quinn, painting Harry's visit to Dumbledore as bothersome— after all, what student would enjoy spending time with a professor/headmaster instead of their friends.

"Y-Yeah, it can be a bother," said Harry with an awkward chuckle.

Quinn smiled, "Tell me if you need a break, I'll give you a detention and assign it under myself and won't allow the headmaster to get you out of it. . . . Ah, abusing authority does feel good," he finished with a blissful smile.

"O-Oh, thank you, I guess?" Harry sweatdropped, confused about how detentions could be something positive.

"You are much welcome," said Quinn and reached out to his disguised book to continue reading, expecting Harry to take a guess and leave him alone.

But it seems that he was expecting too much from the golden boy as he spoke, "Ah, I also want to thank you for telling Ivy about the potions book. She has been quite attached to it, and I have to say, it's quite helpful, even though she doesn't allow anyone to touch it— the spell I used before also came from it."

Quinn, whose initial reaction was one of annoyance of being disturbed, changed to one of surprise. "She told you that I pointed the book to her?"

"Yeah, though she only told it to me when I asked what happened to the book that she had brought in advance last year." He then sighed, "Though I also blame you for all the problems that we have faced because of her casting spells from that book— being an accidental target gets really old, really fast.

But don't let it slip that you were the reason Ivy has the book to Hermione because she disapproves and abhors the existence of that book."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Quinn, his voice fleeting a bit before it sharpened again, and he said, "Now, buzz off, Potter, you have already taken too much of my time."

"Yes, sorry about that," said Harry, standing up. "Please take care of the thing we talked about earlier."

Quinn nodded without looking up from his book; however, his mind was no longer on the book but wandering into various places.

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- (Scene Break) -

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Time slowly passed, and the year entered into the final leg of the school year, and with it, the chain of events had already started to rattle, and the events that had been running divergently started to approach the point of convergence.

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In the Room of Requirements, the Room of Lost Things, Draco Malfoy stood in front of a cabinet. He lowered his wand with a sheen of sweat over his gaunt, pale face with sunken cheeks under eyes with light dark circles of exhaustion.

". . . . It is done," he muttered weakly, his arms laying limply at his side. "It is done; it's finally done." Power returned to his voice as he became aware of his achievement.

"Y-Yes, now I-I can—"

But he froze when he realized what was about to happen and suddenly he felt his stomach turn. He turned away from the cabinet, and a retching voice echoed in the expansive room as Draco emptied his stomach all over the floor.

"No one can help me," Draco stared at his vomit pathetically. "I can't do it. . . . I can't. . . . It won't work . . . and unless I do it soon . . . he says he'll kill me. . . ."

However. . . he didn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

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"Well, Harry, I promised that you could come with me," said Dumbledore.

"You've found one? You've found a Horcrux," asked Harry, gulping.

"I believe so."

For several moments, Harry could not speak.

"It is natural to be afraid," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not scared!" said Harry at once, and it was perfectly true; fear was one emotion he was not feeling at all. "Which Horcrux is it? Where is it?"

"I am not sure which it is — though I think we can rule out the snake — but I believe it to be hidden in a cave on the coast many miles from here, a cave I have been trying to locate for a very long time: the cave in which Tom Riddle once terrorized two children from his orphanage on their annual trip; you remember?"

"Yes," said Harry. "How is it protected?"

"I do not know; I have suspicions that may be entirely wrong."

Dumbledore hesitated, then said, "Harry, I promised you that you could come with me, and I stand by that promise, but it would be very wrong of me not to warn you that this will be exceedingly dangerous."

"I'm coming," said Harry, almost before Dumbledore had finished speaking.

"Very well, then: Listen." Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height. "I take you with me on one condition: that you obey any command I might give you at once and without question."

"Of course."

"Be sure to understand me, Harry. I mean that you must follow even such orders as 'run,' 'hide,' or 'go back.' Do I have your word?"

"I — yes, of course."

"If I tell you to hide, you will do so?" "Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?" "Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?" "I —"

"Harry?" They looked at each other for a moment. "Yes, sir."

"Very good. Then I wish you to go and fetch your Invisibility Cloak and

meet me in the entrance hall in five minutes."

"I have it with me, sir."

Dumbledore paused to stare at Harry before nodding. "Very well, wait here, and we shall go to the entrance hall together for departure."

Harry clenched his fists, a fire of determination burning in his emerald eyes.

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Quinn laid down his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat at an accelerated pace, blood coursing through his veins. He could feel it; his body and mind were screaming at him that he had reached a limit— he couldn't hold the curse back anymore.

«Yes, the time has come— . . . . . fo me to— . . . accept the curse.»

He closed his eyes dove deep into his soulscape, and he couldn't tell that this space was once a pristine white. The colors on the walls had covered the white and had started to bubble over; the seven colors, which had been separate, were now mixing together to give rise to a tar-like black. In the middle of the space, his soul's warm glow had been encased in a cocoon resembling alien eggs with pulsing veins in cheap alien movies.

His plan to wait till the end of the school year was no longer possible. Moreover, the situation had been gnawing on him— telling him that it was coming— it seemed his body and mind knew better than him.

And today, he could no longer hold it in.

It was time to oppose the curse by letting it in and fighting it to the point of overwhelming it and kicking it out of his body.

"I hope I act sane," he muttered, chuckling at his use of the word 'act.'

His face turned stern. He gathered his magic, and the soul shield, which had been up for months, started to crumble on his command, and the veins started to move immediately, aiming at the bright soul which had been dangled in front of them like a golden fruit, but the couldn't reach it till now.

As the shield crumbled and Quinn let the curse in, he didn't notice that his soul had been shining brightly, not looking weak in any shape or form, capable of holding on for a while longer— maybe until after Hogwarts.

He didn't notice because he himself had betrayed him, turning him against himself for his own sake, even if he himself didn't ask for his help.

The veins burst open and black liquid spewed forth, tainting the untouched soul, turning the gold hue into a darker shade. . . slowly moving towards a black mass. . . .

After an unknown amount of time, Quinn opened his eyes, his eyes still the same.

He sat upon his bed and stared at his own hands, flexing his fingers.

And then. . . . a toothy grin cracked his face.

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-*-*-*-*-*-

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Quinn West - MC - ". . . . Heh."

Harry Potter - Boy-Who-Lived - About to face something he already holds.

Draco Malfoy - Death Eater - I have to do it. . . . I must do it.

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