[Note: Read up to Chapter - 131 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]
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"Professor Dumbledore, you're finally back!"
The moment they stepped into the castle, McGonagall, Snape, and a few other professors came hurrying over.
To Aris's surprise, even Quirrell was among them.
"We noticed some strange activity deep in the Forbidden Forest. Wait… Mr. Shafiq? What are you doing here?"
Professor McGonagall's expression shifted to surprise as she spotted the boy walking beside Dumbledore.
"Minerva, don't fret. I simply took Mr. Shafiq out for a bit of a stroll," Dumbledore said casually, throwing Aris a glance as if to reassure him.
It was clear the silver-haired headmaster had no intention of revealing what had really gone on in the Forbidden Forest—not yet, anyway.
Especially not with Quirrell lurking about.
The troll incident hadn't been properly resolved, and Quirrell was still a prime suspect.
Dumbledore likely suspected something was off about the man, but was biding his time until he had proper proof.
That's probably why he had Snape keeping a close watch.
"Professor, we can talk about Mr. Shafiq later. Did you find anything odd in the forest?"
McGonagall's tone was tense. Understandably so—the Forbidden Forest was crawling with danger, and it sat far too close to the school grounds for comfort.
As Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, she had every reason to be concerned.
"Nothing to worry about," Dumbledore replied calmly.
"The centaurs noticed something unusual, but I've looked into it myself—everything's under control."
Then, placing a gentle hand on Aris's shoulder, he added,
"It's getting late. Off you go now, my boy—get some kip."
"Alright, Professor," Aris nodded and headed off, keeping his thoughts to himself.
As Aris strolled past the cluster of professors, he suddenly turned to Quirrell and greeted him with a cheerful smile.
"Professor Quirrell! Out and about at this hour? Fancy that—you being interested in the Forbidden Forest?"
"I always thought you kept to your classroom and didn't give much of a toss about anything else in the castle. Seems I've got you pegged all wrong!"
"N-no... I just… I just happened to see Professor McGonagall rushing by and, well… I got a bit curious, that's all!"
Quirrell had been lingering quietly in the background, but the moment Aris called him out, he visibly panicked, floundering over his words.
"Well then... since everything's sorted, I… I'd best be off!"
And with that, he spun round and hurried off down the corridor.
Ordinarily, none of the other professors would have batted an eye at Quirrell's awkwardness. But tonight, Dumbledore's expression shifted slightly as he watched the man retreat.
He turned and gave Snape a significant look.
Snape, who had been watching silently, met Dumbledore's gaze, and something unspoken passed between them.
Aris noticed and chuckled to himself.
He hadn't meant anything by it at first—just fancied seeing how Quirrell would react if he teased him a bit.
But the reaction had been far stronger than expected. The man had fled like a rabbit caught in torchlight.
Now Dumbledore will definitely be more suspicious of him...
Aris smirked.
This bloke's hopeless at being subtle. Definitely not cut out for undercover work!
…
Bang! The door to the Defence Against the Dark Arts office slammed shut.
Inside, Quirrell slumped onto a stool, breathing heavily. His hands trembled as he tugged off his turban, revealing the grotesque face hidden beneath.
A strained, anxious voice broke the silence.
"M-Master… the boy... he must know something!"
"H-have we been rumbled? Maybe we ought to leg it while we still can—"
"Fool!" Voldemort's voice thundered in reply, low and furious—tinged with a rare note of panic.
"You lost your rag just 'cause a boy gave you a cheeky grin—what in Merlin's name were you thinking?!"
"You haven't even got me what I want yet, and now you're talking about legging it? If you're that keen on scarpering, I'd be more than happy to send you off myself—permanently!"
At this moment, Voldemort was cursing his own decision to possess such a hopeless excuse for a wizard.
Had he any other choice, he'd have gladly sunk his teeth into someone with more spine—he wouldn't hesitate to rip this coward's mind apart like some cursed parasite.
He was starting to believe that, at this rate, he wouldn't need to wait for his body to fail—Quirrell's idiocy might be enough to make his very soul combust from sheer frustration.
"M-Master, I just… I got spooked, that's all! Dumbledore gave me this look and—blimey—it was enough to make me break out in a sweat!"
"Then perhaps I should show you what true terror really feels like."
Voldemort's voice dropped to a chilling whisper, laced with venom.
The threat in his tone was unmistakable. The next moment could easily bring the Cruciatus Curse crashing down.
Quirrell froze, his entire body trembling like a leaf. He swallowed hard, his voice cracking.
"M-Master, please… I'm sorry. I'll do better—I swear I will! Just… don't be cross..."
After a tense silence, Voldemort finally managed to rein in his fury and spoke again.
"That insolent boy. He needs to be taught a proper lesson!"
"Absolutely, Master!" Quirrell nodded like a bobblehead, eager to agree. "The cheek of him… playing mind games with you! He's got a death wish, that one!"
"And that blasted Potter too," Voldemort growled.
"Lurking about near the fourth-floor corridor as if he owns the place—he's just as bloody annoying!"
"Yes, yes, Master! I'll give him a right good thrashing next time I get the chance!" Quirrell chimed in, puffing up his chest slightly.
But then Voldemort's tone shifted, dark and cold.
"Tomorrow's the school Quidditch match, isn't it? Might be the perfect opportunity to deal with those two little pests—without anyone twigging to it."
He gave a sinister chuckle.
"A simple jinx to make Potter's broom go haywire... If it crashes into that Shafik brat—well, even if they don't kick the bucket, they'll be out of our way for a while."
"What do you reckon, Quirrell? Like the sound of that plan?"
Quirrell flinched. His face paled noticeably.
"M-Master… I-I just worry the other professors might catch on... you know what McGonagall's like."
"It's only a distraction spell, you fool," Voldemort hissed, his tone razor-sharp.
"Cast it properly and no one will be the wiser."
"Y-Yes, Master… as you wish…"
And just like that, Quirrell shrank back into his usual, quivering self.
…
Ravenclaw Common Room.
As Aris stepped through the Eagle Door, he was immediately surrounded by a group of eager first-years. Among them were Terry, Anthony, and—
"Aris, where've you been? Did you hear what happened in the Forbidden Forest?"
For reasons unknown, Terry—despite being a Ravenclaw—had an unshakable fondness for gossip and was always first to leap on the latest rumour.
"Heard the professors all legged it to the castle gates, like they were expecting trouble," he added breathlessly.
"You think there's some beastie in the forest trying to break into the castle?" Anthony chimed in, looking properly worried.
"You lot overthink things way too much," Aris said, eyeing them with a tired expression.
"Still, if nowt really happened, the staff wouldn't be so on edge, would they?" Terry continued, arms crossed like he was solving a great mystery.
"Something major's gone down in that forest. Bet my wand on it!"
"Aris, you seriously didn't hear a thing out there?"
"Maybe some creatures in the Forbidden Forest kicked off," Aris replied offhandedly.
Technically, that wasn't a lie—the spider colony had been in a right state, and the centaurs… well, a bit of a mess there too.
If you looked at it a certain way, it was a riot.
And if you looked at it another way—he and Iris were probably the main culprits.
But whatever. Let them guess.
He was shattered and just wanted to crash in the dorm. Well—after penning a letter to Luna, giving her a very selective rundown of recent events.
He hadn't written to the little lass in days. If he didn't send a letter soon, she'd be proper cross with him.
"Aris, come on—tell us more about what you saw out there!"
Terry and Anthony clearly weren't ready to give up, still pestering him as he turned to leave.
Just then, Cho followed after him.
As the two of them climbed the spiral staircase, she leaned in and whispered,
"I just checked the lab… you weren't there."
"So, I thought—maybe you went into the Forbidden Forest?"
"You're overthinking it," Aris replied, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.
Cho immediately looked a bit sheepish, as though realising she might have overstepped.
But inside, Aris was genuinely surprised.
How did she manage to guess that so accurately?
Sharp girl. Just what you'd expect from a Ravenclaw.
Still, Dumbledore had made it clear he wanted to keep the matter under wraps, so there was no way he could confirm anything.
He gave a half-hearted wave and shrugged it off.
"I'm knackered, Cho. Best not to worry too much about what's going on—whatever it is, the professors have it covered."
"You lot should be focusing on who's going to win the Quidditch match tomorrow instead. Didn't you say you wanted to try out for the team?"
"If you make it into the Quidditch team, you might be playing against them next time!"
At the mention of Quidditch, Cho's eyes lit up like Lumos.
"Oh! I forgot to tell you—I've already made it into the Ravenclaw team. I'm the new Seeker!"
"Thought you weren't that fussed about Quidditch, so I didn't bring it up!"
She beamed with pride, clearly chuffed about the whole thing.
"Congratulations! Seeker in the Second Year? Yeah, that's no small feat!"
"If that's the case, You'd best pay proper attention to tomorrow's match!"
"Knowing your opponent ahead of time's half the battle, isn't it?" Aris smiled, offering both praise and a nudge of advice.
"Mhm! I'll keep a close eye on their tactics tomorrow," Cho nodded. Then, almost shyly, she asked, "You'll be coming to watch, won't you?"
"It's the first match of the House Cup—it's bound to be brilliant!"
"Wanna go together?" she added, hope flickering in her voice.
Even though she knew full well Aris was more at home in a lab than in the stands, she invited him anyway.
Aris paused for a moment, then gave her a warm smile.
"Well, since it's you asking, I suppose I'll come have a look!"
Truth be told, he wasn't fussed about Quidditch in general—but this match? It was something else entirely.
Harry Potter's debut game. And if Aris remembered the story right, things were definitely going to kick off.
Some dodgy spell, a broom gone mad, maybe even an old weirdo trying to take Potter out mid-air?
Yeah... if memory serves, Quirrell tried to make his move on Potter during this match.
Poor Snape ended up shouldering the blame, of course—framed as the villain by the ever-suspicious golden trio.
Now wouldn't it be fun to stir the pot a little more this time?
Aris could already picture the look on Quirrell's face when things took a turn he didn't expect.
"Sorted then!"
Cho beamed, practically bouncing on her feet—and before Aris could react, she threw her arms around him in a quick hug.
Then, face flushed red, she turned on her heel and hurried back to her dorm.
Aris blinked, caught off guard, then chuckled to himself.
"Is this girl a bit too ahead of her years, or just over the moon?"
"Hard to tell what's going through a girl's head, honestly!"
…
Next morning – breakfast time.
The Great Hall was far livelier than usual.
At the four house tables, young witches and wizards buzzed with excitement, chatting animatedly about the day's Quidditch match.
Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were the loudest by far—kids already chucking barbs across the hall.
"Oi, Potter! You'll be flat on your back the moment your bum hits the broom!"
"Slytherin all the way, no doubt about it!"
"Go on, lions! Give those snake-faced gits a proper thrashing!"
"We must win, we must win—Gryffindor, let's bring it in!"
The age-old rivalry was in full swing now.
Insults and chants were being thrown back and forth like hexes—without the actual spells, thankfully.
Much of the noise filling the hall came straight from the clash of those two houses.
Over at the Gryffindor table, Ron and Harry were finishing breakfast.
But little Harry didn't seem to be enjoying it much—he was a bit on edge.
He barely lifted his head, just kept munching away, eyes on his plate.
Maybe he was afraid that if he looked up, he'd lose his temper and lob his toast at someone in green.
The Slytherins were taking every chance to have a go at him—personal digs, smug jabs—anything to throw him off.
Can't blame them really—Harry was their biggest threat.
Youngest Seeker in a century, 3.6 seconds off the ground, sharp as a hawk.
Of course they wanted to rattle him before kick-off.
If the enemy Seeker gets rattled by outside interference and starts slipping up during the match, well—half the battle's already won!
And the Slytherin lot weren't about to let that chance pass them by.
"Harry, don't listen to 'em—they're just bricking it!"
Ron gave him a nudge while cramming more food into his mouth, clearly more anxious than Harry himself.
"Too right! Bunch of paper tigers, that lot!" Seamus chimed in with a grin.
"Heard they've even cooked up a special set of tactics just to mess with you. If they weren't scared, would they really go to all that trouble?"
Harry glanced up at Seamus, but the attempt at reassurance had the opposite effect.
If anything, it only made him more jittery.
He started imagining all sorts of ridiculous strategies—none of which he had a clue how to counter.
"Actually, even without Harry, Gryffindor still stands a solid chance of winning today's game."
A calm voice piped up from behind.
Harry and the others turned to see Aris, Cho, and Hermione taking seats beside them.
Aris had run into Hermione on his way to the Great Hall, and though he'd meant to stay out of the usual Gryffindor–Slytherin rivalry, Hermione wasn't having it.
She practically dragged him along.
She believed that if Aris offered a few words of encouragement, Harry would regain his focus—and the win would be in the bag.
After all these months, Harry and Ron had come to take Aris's opinions rather seriously.
To them, his words held more weight than most of the professors'.
It wasn't blind admiration—it was trust, built from watching Aris get things right time and again.
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Drop power Powerstonessssssssss!
[Note: Read up to Chapter - 131 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]