Quirrell wandered through every floor of the castle, from classrooms to the library, the clock tower, and even the greenhouses—clutching something in his hands the entire time.
From the Marauder's Map, Sean couldn't tell what he was holding or what he was doing. But the aimless, sleepwalking-like pattern of his movements made it impossible to ignore.
Sean was curious—very curious.
But following him directly was too risky. Quirrell had eyes in the back of his head—literally. And if Sean reported it to the professors, they'd immediately ask how he knew Quirrell was roaming at night.
"Do I really have to wait until Christmas to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak…?" Sean shook his head. He couldn't afford to wait that long.
Then—an idea struck him.
He grabbed his shoes and the Marauder's Map, slipped out of the dormitory, and headed straight for the Astronomy Tower.
He needed help.
—
Luckily, Bloody Baron was there, gazing silently into the distance.
Seeing a student out past curfew didn't faze him. After hundreds of years, he had seen far worse.
"Baron… beautiful night, isn't it?" Sean tried.
No response.
"…I need your help," Sean said directly.
Still nothing.
"I need you to tell Peeves to help me track Professor Quirrell. He's been acting… strange."
Silence.
Sean hesitated—then played his final card.
"If the Grey Lady were here… I think she'd help me. This concerns the safety of Hogwarts."
That worked.
The Baron turned his head slightly.
"What danger?"
Sean immediately seized the opportunity.
"Quirrell's been wandering at night. He's hiding something—I think he's planning something dangerous."
"You know his secret?"
"…Not something I can explain," Sean said carefully. "And I trust you won't speak of this either."
The Baron didn't answer.
Just as Sean was about to leave—
"He's in the Charms classroom, fourth floor. Tell him I sent you."
Sean grinned.
Helena's name—never failed.
"Thanks, Baron."
—
Peeves was dancing across desks when Sean arrived, humming his own chaotic tune.
"Peeves, I need your help. The Baron sent me."
The dance stopped instantly.
"What a buzzkill," Peeves sneered. "Even Merlin's heir shouldn't interrupt my performance."
"Sorry," Sean said smoothly. "By the way—that dance? Brilliant. Your choreography?"
Peeves brightened immediately.
"Of course it is!"
"I dabble in choreography too. Maybe we can collaborate sometime."
That sealed it.
"What do you need?"
"Your invisibility."
—
Moments later—
Peeves sat on Sean's shoulders, cloaking them both.
They followed Quirrell.
At the hospital wing, Sean kept his distance.
"What is he holding…?"
It was too dark to see clearly.
Then—Quirrell spoke softly.
"Adam… Adam…"
Sean frowned.
"Adam?"
No such name existed in Hogwarts' known records.
—
Two hours passed.
They followed him across the castle.
Until half past midnight, Quirrell finally returned to his quarters.
Sean exhaled.
"He's looking for someone… No—something."
Then it hit him.
"…Of course. At night. He's looking for a ghost."
Hogwarts had over a hundred ghosts.
It made sense.
"Peeves, do you know a ghost named Adam?"
"Nope."
Sean sighed—
Until Peeves added—
"He's not a ghost. He's a spirit."
Sean froze.
"A spirit?"
"He was here before me," Peeves said. "Hardly anyone sees him. First time I met him was in the kitchens—he looked like a golden-haired boy."
"A boy?"
"That's just one form. He can turn into a squirrel."
"…A squirrel?"
So Quirrell—
Was searching for a squirrel?
"What's special about him?" Sean asked.
"No idea. I've only seen him three times. Tried to prank him once—he led me in circles and disappeared."
"You lost him?"
Sean was genuinely shocked.
If even Peeves couldn't track him—
This "Adam" was something extraordinary.
—
That night, Sean returned to bed, unable to sleep.
Quirrell's behavior had gone beyond anything he expected.
And that made it dangerous.
"A being older than Peeves… seen only three times…"
"What are you…?"
—
The next day, Sean questioned several ghosts.
None had heard of Adam.
He asked McGonagall.
Nothing.
Finally—Dumbledore.
"Professor, have you heard of a ghost named Adam?"
Dumbledore shook his head.
"Hogwarts has many spirits. Some even I haven't encountered. Perhaps Sir Nicholas would know."
Sean had already asked.
No luck.
"Why are you looking for him?" Dumbledore asked.
"Just curiosity," Sean replied half-truthfully. "Peeves mentioned a mysterious spirit."
Dumbledore studied him—but said nothing.
—
Sean became obsessed.
Days passed in a pattern:
Classes.
Library research.
Night surveillance.
On the fourth night—
Peeves finally got close enough.
"Coward! Coward!" Peeves taunted, zipping past Quirrell.
And in that instant—
He saw it.
Quirrell wasn't holding anything mysterious at all.
—
It was just…
A handful of snacks.
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