Bring a fairy tale to Hogwarts!

"We still don't know exactly what happened, only that with a cry of alarm, Professor Quirinas Quirrell, who was lying unconscious on the ground, was discovered by Mr. Cedric of Hufflepuff. If someone else had discovered him, things might have turned out very differently."

—From the new edition of Hogwarts: A History of the School.

……

If Quirrell could see this passage, his life might be completely different—but unfortunately, for now, he still wants to listen to the Dark Lord, hoping to one day achieve his dream of becoming the most powerful person in the wizarding world and flying far away.

After hearing Victor say, "What can you give?", he couldn't help but admire the Dark Lord's foresight, as he had seen through Victor's character at a glance.

Victor had mentioned their collaboration several times before; he was definitely testing him!

But outwardly he still spoke in a submissive manner:

"I can't give much, Professor Victor. A few thousand Galleons, I can guarantee, but I really can't offer more. However, I can get a dragon egg."

"None of these are what I need."

"Victor said slowly."

"So what do you want...?"

Before Quirrell could finish his question, Victor slowly approached him, extended his hand in a handshake gesture, and said:

"Mr. Quirrell, I want your 'night'."

"Night? What—what does that mean?"

"I will help you complete this recipe. But from today onward, every time the sun sets and the moon rises above the horizon, your consciousness will be plunged into a long period of darkness. You will never know anything about the night until the sun rises again the next day, at which point you will be able to open your eyes again."

"Are you willing to pay this price?"

As Victor spoke, his empty, dark eyes stared straight at Quirrell, sending a chill down Quirrell's spine for no apparent reason.

Seeing this, Quirrell's pupils contracted slightly, as if he had never expected to pay such a price—even though his expression remained the same, his subconscious swallowing and the change in his pupils showed that he was not at peace.

A few seconds later, he said dryly:

"...Is this something that can be traded? Professor Victor, could you tell me what kind of magic you intend to use to achieve this? An unbreakable oath?"

You'll find out soon enough.

"Victor said calmly."

Quirrell was silent for a moment.

But Victor, who was opposite him, was not in a hurry. He just stood there, reaching out his hand and waiting quietly for him.

He had prior experience—Ussula had once said that when you really want others to pay the price, you must never rush things. The more rushed you are, the more others will suspect something is amiss, and naturally, they will hesitate to make a decision easily.

At this time, we should wait patiently.

After hesitating for a moment, Quirrell shakily extended his hand and said, "...I'm willing in principle, Professor Victor, but we need to discuss the details further..."

Does he want to make a trade? Of course not!

To be honest, he initially joined the Dark Lord's ranks because it was profitable, not out of a moment of impulse. But now, not only has he gained nothing, he's also deeply embroiled in a bizarre deal.

He was certain that any magic capable of achieving such an effect must be dark magic.

But his master was behind his head, leaving him no room for maneuver.

No... He has to think of something, he has to buy time...

Thinking this, Quirrell grasped Victor's hand—he assumed it was just a simple handshake, a gesture of cooperation, but he hadn't expected it—

He suddenly realized that he couldn't move.

In his somewhat frightened eyes, his headscarf seemed to tremble slightly, as if it wanted to drift away in the wind, but in the end it quietly settled down in the windless corridor.

Then, Quirrell's eyes widened.

In his field of vision, following the hand that had made contact with Victor, a strange black feather sprouted from his arm—the feather looked as if it were truly emerging from his veins, with a faint hint of blood around its edges.

At the same time came a piercing pain that flowed down the veins in Quirrell's arm all the way to his heart. In just a second, he couldn't even stand up and staggered to his knees.

Then came the second feather, the third...

In Quirrell's wide, almost bloodshot eyes, he watched in horror as feathers began to cover his arms, even squeezing the sleeves of his cloak until they bulged, then his neck, then his legs...

Quirrell was in so much pain he wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth, he found himself spitting out handfuls of black feathers!

It's as if his voice has disappeared.

In a wave of intense, dizzying pain, Quirrell's consciousness slowly faded, and his vision of everything around him blurred...

All he remembered was that in the last second before he collapsed, Victor finally lowered his arm and looked down at him from above.

Because of his blurred vision, in Quirrell's eyes, Victor looked like a tall, thin figure with only dark pupils remaining, and he was grinning slightly.

Victor said:

"I have fulfilled your wish."

"But remember—from this moment on, you must bask in the sunlight every day. If you don't see a ray of sunlight for three consecutive days, you will turn into a handful of dust in the first gust of wind at night."

The next moment, Quirrell completely lost consciousness.

……

……

"...Nothing has changed...I don't know...why is that..."

"...Then let him rest and recuperate properly..."

Quirrell didn't know how much time had passed before his consciousness, which had been shrouded in complete darkness, slowly resurfaced, and he heard a series of indistinct sounds around him.

The sounds were initially a blur, but gradually became clearer after a while.

"...Then I'll leave him in your care, Madam Pomfrey," it was Dumbledore's voice. "I'll have the students in the neighborhood and Filch check on the situation to make sure there wasn't a security problem."

"No problem, you can go ahead, Professor. I'll keep an eye on things here. Although Professor Quirrell's collapse was a bit strange, he has symptoms of staying up late, so his coma is very likely caused by recent overwork." That was the voice of the school doctor, Mrs. Pomfrey.

"Hopefully so. He has indeed been spending a lot of time dealing with trolls lately."

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Mrs. Pomfrey."

"No problem, Professor."

The two people's voices gradually faded away, followed by a loud "bang" as the door slammed shut, and the room returned to deathly silence.

Quirinas Quiro, lying on the hospital bed with a pale face and sunken cheeks, slowly opened his eyes.