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Thursday, October 31st, 1991 - Afternoon
2:00 PM - Double Potions
If there was one class that could dampen Halloween enthusiasm, it was Double Potions with Professor Snape.
The dungeon classroom was cold, dim, and thoroughly unwelcoming. Exactly as Snape preferred. The Potions Master stood at the front, black robes seeming to absorb light, expression suggesting he'd rather be literally anywhere else.
"The Cure for Boils," he announced without preamble. "A simple potion that even first-years should be capable of producing without disaster. And yet, somehow, I have no doubt several of you will manage to fail spectacularly."
His eyes swept the class, landing briefly on various students with varying degrees of disdain. When his gaze passed Darius, there was a flicker of something. Not quite concern, not quite assessment, but something that suggested their previous conversation remained on his mind.
Too much of something is a poison itself.
"Instructions are on the board," Snape continued. "You have ninety minutes. Begin."
The class set to work with the usual mixture of competence and chaos. Darius moved through the potion preparation with careful mediocrity. Not too skilled, not too incompetent, just adequate enough to avoid Snape's attention.
[Recommended ingredient sequence: Dried nettles first, crushed snake fangs second, stewed horned slugs third, porcupine quills removed from heat and added carefully. Partner's current execution: Deliberately suboptimal but acceptable.]
Across the dungeon, one of the younger second-years, a Ravenclaw whose name Darius never remembered, had already managed to turn his cauldron into a source of thick, acrid purple smoke.
Snape descended on him like a carrion bird sensing weakness.
"Idiot," he snarled. "I gave explicit instructions regarding the porcupine quills. Removed from heat, then added. Or does the concept of sequence elude you as thoroughly as common sense?"
"I... I'm sorry, Professor..."
"Apologies do not reverse stupidity. Five points from Ravenclaw. Clean it up before you poison us all."
The student fumbled frantically with a siphoning charm as Snape swept away, clearly disappointed that no explosion had occurred.
The class continued in similar fashion. Snape prowled between workstations, finding fault with nearly everyone, distributing point losses with enthusiasm. Even students whose potions were perfectly acceptable received criticism for some microscopic imperfection.
When he reached Darius's station, he paused. Examined the cauldron with narrowed eyes. The potion was the correct color, the correct consistency, releasing the appropriate steam.
"Adequate," Snape finally said, the word delivered like a death sentence. "Though I notice your technique has become more... conservative... recently, Mr. Kael."
There was weight in those words. Observation. Assessment. The conversation from days ago echoing underneath.
"Following the instructions precisely, Professor," Darius said neutrally. "As recommended."
Something flickered in Snape's expression, too quick to fully analyze, but possibly approval. Or at least acknowledgment.
"See that you continue to do so," Snape said, moving on to terrorize a Hufflepuff whose potion had inexplicably turned orange.
[Subject Snape's comment analysis: Acknowledging Partner's return to "adequate" performance as improvement over recent week's deliberately suboptimal work. Possible interpretation: Believes Partner has taken advice about not self-sabotaging. Cover story holding effectively.]
The double period dragged on with characteristic Snape unpleasantness. By the time they were finally dismissed at 3:45, even Halloween excitement had been somewhat dampened by ninety minutes of dungeon coldness and constant criticism.
"I hate Double Potions," Terry declared as they climbed back toward civilization. "I hate it more than History of Magic, and I didn't think that was possible."
"At least Binns can't take house points," Michael observed.
"Fair point."
They emerged from the dungeons into the entrance hall, and immediately the Halloween atmosphere enveloped them again. The decorations seemed even more elaborate than morning. Or perhaps the fading afternoon light just made them more dramatic. Jack-o'-lanterns glowed brighter, enchanted bats swooped more energetically, and the general sense of holiday magic filled the air.
"Two and a half hours until the feast," Emma said, checking a nearby clock. "Anyone want to grab some study time in the common room? Or are we all too excited to actually focus?"
"I'm going to change into nicer robes," Sarah announced. "If there's going to be presentations and aerial ballet, I want to look presentable."
"Good idea," Emma agreed. "Darius? Terry? Study time or preparation time?"
Darius hesitated. His mind was already on the evening ahead. Monitoring cameras, tracking Quirrell, watching for the moment when everything went wrong.
"I'll probably just rest for a bit," he said. "Long day. Want to be ready for the feast."
[Recommendation: Partner should use available time for final systems check, magical reserve verification, device status confirmation, and mental preparation. Evening events will require sustained high-performance operation.]
They split up, heading toward various destinations. Darius made his way to Ravenclaw Tower. He nodded at students he passed, maintaining the careful facade of normal student anticipating normal feast.
But with every step, the countdown continued.
Two and a half hours.
4:30 PM - Ravenclaw Dormitory
The dormitory was empty when Darius arrived. Everyone else still scattered throughout the castle, enjoying the afternoon or preparing for the feast. He sat on his bed and allowed himself a moment to simply breathe.
[Status check: Magical reserves 96%. Physical condition optimal. Mental alertness high. Device status confirmed. Surveillance network operational. All systems prepared for evening operations.]
Two hours until feast. Three hours, maybe three and a half, until the troll is released.
[Unknown variables remain: Exact troll entry method, precise release timing, Quirrell's backup plans if primary strategy fails, potential additional chaos vectors beyond troll, Dumbledore's response protocols.]
I know. Darius pulled out the trigger stone, felt its weight in his palm. Small, innocuous, linked to devices capable of stopping a twelve-foot troll long enough to save lives. But I've done everything I can to prepare. The rest is adaptation.
[Acknowledged. Partner should note: You are not attempting to stop all chaos. You are attempting to minimize casualties during chaos. Important distinction. Former is impossible. Latter is achievable.]
Right. He wasn't trying to prevent the troll attack. That would change too much, create too many butterflies. He was trying to ensure everyone survived it.
Small goals. Manageable goals.
Sure. Survive encounter with mountain troll, possessed professor, and Dark Lord. Small goals.
[Partner's sarcasm indicators elevated. Recommend emotional regulation before evening operations.]
Darius smiled despite everything. Even at the end of the world, Nano remained Nano. Analytical, practical, occasionally completely missing emotional context.
He checked his mental camera feeds one final time:
[CAM-QUIRRELL-OFFICE: Empty. No activity since 1:30 PM.]
[CAM-QUIRRELL-QUARTERS: Empty. Subject departed at 2:15 PM, has not returned.]
[CAM-THIRD-FLOOR: Standard patrol traffic only. No unusual activity near Fluffy's chamber.]
[CAM-TEST-01: Library showing normal study activity. Subject Granger still present at corner table, has not moved in three hours.]
Hermione. Still in the library. Still processing Ron's words, still dealing with social rejection.
In a few hours, she'll leave. Go to the bathroom to cry. And that's where the troll will find her.
[Canonical timeline proceeding as expected. Partner's non-intervention in social conflict preserves causal chain leading to bathroom location during troll attack.]
Doesn't mean I have to feel good about it.
[No. But Partner should note: Emotional discomfort regarding tactical decisions is sign of functional moral framework. Sociopathy would require absence of such discomfort.]
Thanks. I think.
The clock on the wall showed 4:45. One hour and forty-five minutes until the feast.
Darius stood, checked that the devices were secure in his pockets, verified the trigger stone was accessible. He changed into slightly nicer robes. Maintaining appearances, acting like a normal student preparing for a special dinner.
But underneath the costume, he was prepared for war.
5:45 PM - Corridors Outside Great Hall
Students began gathering early, drawn by excitement and the increasingly amazing decorations. The corridor outside the Great Hall had transformed into something from a fairy tale. Or a Halloween dream. Hundreds of jack-o'-lanterns lined the walls at various heights, creating a golden-orange glow. Enchanted spider webs stretched across corners, moving slightly as illusory spiders crawled along them. Bats swooped through the air in complex patterns, never quite hitting anyone but coming close enough to be thrilling.
The ghosts were out in force. Interacting with students, telling Halloween stories, generally adding to the atmosphere. Nearly Headless Nick was demonstrating his party trick, nearly detaching his head, to a crowd of delighted first-years. The Grey Lady drifted past Darius with a serene nod. Even Peeves was behaving relatively well, only dropping water balloons on a few unfortunate targets rather than his usual complete chaos.
Darius stood with Emma, Sarah, and several other Ravenclaws, all waiting for the doors to open at 6:30. Around them, the other houses gathered. Gryffindors in one cluster, Hufflepuffs in another, Slytherins maintaining their usual distance but equally excited.
He spotted Harry and Ron near the Gryffindor group, talking with Dean and Seamus. Both looked happy, animated, completely unaware of what was coming.
Hermione wasn't with them.
[Subject Granger not visible in current gathering. Prediction: Still in bathroom, crying, processing social rejection. Will miss feast opening, be absent when troll attack occurs, require rescue by Subjects Potter and Weasley as per canonical timeline.]
Right on schedule for disaster.
"You okay?" Emma asked, nudging him. "You look tense."
"Just hungry," Darius lied. "Long afternoon."
"Same. I'm ready for whatever dessert 'defies gravity.'"
The Great Hall doors opened with dramatic timing at exactly 6:30. Students flooded in with excited chatter.
The interior was even more spectacular than morning. The enchanted ceiling showed a perfect Halloween night sky. Deep black scattered with stars, a massive full moon, occasional clouds drifting past. The live bats had multiplied, swooping and diving in complex aerial choreography. Every surface was decorated, every corner lit with warm pumpkin-glow, every detail perfect.
The house tables filled quickly. Students claiming seats with friends, conversations overlapping into general happy chaos. The High Table's professors took their positions. All present, all accounted for.
Including Quirrell, who sat in his usual spot with his usual nervous demeanor.
But Darius saw the satisfied smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Saw the way his eyes tracked the gathering students with calculation rather than fear.
Saw the subtle anticipation in his posture.
He's ready. Whatever he's planned, it's in place. He's just waiting.
[Analysis confirms: Subject Quirrell displays confident anticipation. Troll likely already positioned. Release timing probably coordinated with specific feast event. Maximum distraction, minimum warning.]
The feast began with Dumbledore's brief welcome. Then food appeared. Traditional Halloween fare with spectacular presentations. Roasted pumpkins that steamed dramatically. Turkey carved to look like phoenixes. Potatoes arranged in complicated patterns. Pies that changed color as you watched.
Students dug in with enthusiasm. Conversations competed with eating. The ghosts performed their promised historical reenactment, a comedy version of Hogwarts' founding with deliberate anachronisms that had everyone laughing.
Professor Flitwick's enchanted pumpkin aerial ballet was next. Dozens of carved jack-o'-lanterns rose from the tables and performed an elaborate mid-air dance routine to classical music. It was genuinely impressive, technically complex, and absolutely delightful.
Everyone was distracted.
Everyone was contained in one location.
Everyone was vulnerable.
And somewhere in the castle, Darius knew, a twelve-foot mountain troll waited for its cue.