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Friday, October 25th, 1991 - Afternoon
Lunch - 12:35 PM
The Great Hall was crowded when they finally escaped Binns's classroom. Darius hadn't realized how hungry he was until the scent of food hit him—apparently, stress burned through calories faster than he'd thought.
[Recommend increased caloric intake. Partner's metabolic rate elevated by sustained stress response. Current energy reserves at 81% optimal.]
He loaded his plate with more food than usual, drawing a raised eyebrow from Emma.
"Hungry much?"
"Growth spurt," Darius said. "Plus Binns's class always makes me want to eat afterward. Not sure if it's actual hunger or just my body's way of confirming I'm still alive."
That draws laughter from around the table. Darius sighs. If only life were that easy, he thinks, instead of juggling this while a dangerous villain roams free.
His eyes drifted to the High Table. Quirrell was there, having apparently returned from wherever he'd gone during the late morning. The professor was picking at his food with nervousness, occasionally glancing up at the students with that fearful flutter.
But Darius noticed the pattern. Every third or fourth glance swept systematically across a specific table. Gryffindor one minute, Ravenclaw the next, Slytherin after that. A methodical search pattern disguised as random nervousness.
[Subject Quirrell's search algorithm focuses on students displaying: abnormal awareness, unusual schedule deviations, advanced magical indicators, suspicious social patterns. Partner currently displays none of these markers. Continued normalcy maintenance: Critical.]
Six more days, Darius reminded himself. Six days of being perfectly normal. Then everything goes to hell and I can stop pretending.
Assuming, of course, he lived that long.
Assuming the days didn't crack his careful façade.
Assuming Quirrell didn't get lucky in his investigation and identify Darius through sheer elimination.
[Partner's anxiety indicators rising. Recommend focusing on present moment rather than hypothetical failure scenarios.]
Right. Present moment. Which currently consisted of shepherd's pie and a discussion about whether the Chudley Cannons had any hope of winning their next match.
Darius forced himself to participate in the conversation, to care about Quidditch scores and team statistics.
The performance continued.
Free Period - 2:15 PM
Fridays had a blessed mercy in the schedule—a free period between lunch and the final class of the day. Most students used it for homework, socializing, or in Terry's case, sleeping.
"I'm going to the library," Emma announced, gathering her books. "That Transfiguration essay isn't going to write itself, despite my many prayers for spontaneous essay generation."
"I'll come with you," Sarah said. "I need to research rune combinations for Ancient Runes."
"I should work on Herbology notes," he said. "Mind if I join?"
"Yeah, sure—you can join us if you want."
They gathered their things and headed out, leaving Terry sprawled dramatically across his bed claiming he'd "been murdered by Binns and was awaiting resurrection."
The walk to the library was pleasant—seventh floor corridors were generally well-maintained, and the afternoon sun through the windows cast everything in warm light. They passed students from various years, portraits engaged in conversations with each other, suits of armor standing silent guard.
The library's familiar scent of old books and parchment welcomed them. Madam Pince was at her desk, giving three fourth-years the death glare over some minor noise. The usual scattered students occupied tables throughout the vast space.
And up on a seventh-floor alcove, invisible to everyone except Darius's nano-assisted awareness, a button-sized camera recorded everything.
[CAM-TEST-01: Operational 35 hours 17 minutes. No detection attempts. Concealment holding perfectly. Current feed shows: Madam Pince at desk, multiple students at various locations, no unusual activity.]
"Right," Emma said, opening her Transfiguration text with determination. "If I can understand the theoretical basis for Cross-Species Switches, I can conquer anything. Including McGonagall's impossible essay assignment."
Sarah settled into her own work with precision, carefully arranging her Ancient Runes materials in perfect organization. Darius opened his Herbology notes and tried to focus on Professor Sprout's extremely detailed instructions about venomous tentacula care.
But part of his mind—the part connected to Nano, monitoring camera feeds, constantly processing threats—never fully relaxed. The alcove camera continued its silent vigil. Quirrell's office camera showed an empty room (he was presumably teaching third-year Hufflepuffs now). The quarters camera revealed nothing unusual.
[Recommend Partner engage fully in current academic activity. Divided attention increasing stress markers and reducing social performance quality.]
Nano was right. Darius forced himself to focus on the notes, to actually read the words about tentacula pruning techniques and root system care. It was almost meditative after a while—the simple, straightforward world of plant care, where the biggest threat was an overzealous vine rather than ancient evil.
An hour passed. Emma muttered increasingly creative curses at her Transfiguration theory. Sarah progressed through rune combinations. Students came and went around them, the library's life continuing its eternal cycle.
And Darius took notes at an appropriate pace. Occasionally helped Emma with troublesome concepts.
[Assessment: Successful sustained normalcy performance. Confidence building in long-term operational security.]
[Alert: CAM-QUIRRELL-QUARTERS: Subject Quirrell entering room. Time: 3:42 PM. Earlier than expected class end. Recommend monitoring.]
So much for peace.
Darius kept his expression carefully neutral, kept his eyes on his Herbology notes, and watched through nano-fed mental images as Quirrell closed his office door and moved to the center of the room.
The professor stood still for a moment, then spoke—his lips forming words Darius couldn't hear but could see well enough to interpret through lip-reading analysis.
[Lip-reading reconstruction: "Still nothing. Thirty hours of investigation and nothing. The portraits report no unusual movements. The ghosts have seen no suspicious behavior. Student records reveal no obvious candidates with both the ability and motivation to interfere."]
A pause. Quirrell's hand moved to his turban, fingers touching the wrapped cloth where Voldemort's face hid underneath.
[Lip-reading reconstruction: "Perhaps... perhaps it truly was coincidence? A fallen branch, a startled centaur patrol, simple misfortune rather than deliberate interference?"]
Another pause. Longer. Quirrell's expression shifted—subtle, barely visible, but there. The confident calculation that meant Voldemort was responding, invisible and silent beneath the turban.
[Lip-reading reconstruction: "No. No, you're right, Master. Too convenient. Too precisely timed. Someone knows. Someone is watching. But they're being careful. Very careful."]
Quirrell began to pace, and the angle became more difficult for lip-reading. Partial phrases only:
["...Halloween... multiple approach... cannot afford another failure..."]
["...the boy... Potter... separate matter but... timing...]
["...will find them... before they become true obstacle..."]
The professor's pacing brought him to the window. He stared out at the grounds, the Forbidden Forest visible in the distance.
In the library, Darius kept his breathing steady, his expression unchanged, every muscle projected calm academic focus.
Inside, his mind raced.
They know someone's watching. They're looking harder now. And they have six days to find me before Halloween makes it irrelevant.
[Assessment accurate. However, Subject Quirrell's investigation has produced zero actionable leads despite sustained effort. Partner's operational security remains intact. Probability of identification through current investigation methods: Low.]
Low isn't zero.
[Acknowledged. But zero probability would require Partner to cease all protective actions. Acceptable risk calculation requires balancing security against mission objectives. Current approach: Optimal given constraints.]
In his quarters, Quirrell turned from the window. His expression hardened with determination—or perhaps Voldemort's influence—and he moved toward his desk.
[Subject retrieving parchment and quill. Probability assessment: Preparing correspondence or expanding investigation parameters. Continued monitoring recommended but not critical—Partner should maintain social cover at current location.]
Right. Normal student. In library. With friends. Nothing suspicious.
"Hey, Darius?" Emma's voice. "You okay? You've been staring at the same paragraph for like five minutes."
Darius blinked, refocused on the actual physical book in front of him. "Sorry. Tentacula root systems are apparently hard. Or I'm more tired than I thought."
"Join the club," Emma said. "My brain stopped working around paragraph three of McGonagall's reading assignment. Want to take a break? Maybe grab some pumpkin juice from the kitchens?"
A break. Exactly what he should be doing.
"Sure," Darius said, closing his Herbology text. "Sounds good."
They gathered their things—Sarah declined, wanting to finish her current rune combination analysis—and headed out of the library.
Six days until Halloween.
Six days until everything changed.
Six days to maintain this careful, exhausting, absolutely critical performance.
I can do this, Darius told himself. I can absolutely do this.
[Partner's self-confidence indicators elevated despite stress. Assessment: Likely to succeed.]
Thanks for the vote of confidence.
[You are welcome, Partner. Though confidence was based on statistical analysis rather than emotional support, if that distinction matters.]
Even in his own head, Darius had to smile at that.
For you, Nano? I'll take either.