It felt like the worst night of their lives.
Filch marched them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat in silence, waiting. Hermione trembled, her hands twisting together. Excuses, alibis, wild stories, one after another chased themselves through Harry's head, each one more hopeless than the last. Even Elian, usually unshakable, wasn't as calm as he looked. He kept his usual mask of indifference, but his jaw was set a little too tight. Inside, he was cursing himself. How could he, of all people, have been foolish enough to forget the Cloak? And really, what excuse could possibly satisfy Professor McGonagall? Out of bed, roaming the castle at midnight, caught on the Astronomy Tower of all places, already bad enough. Throw in a dragon and a missing Invisibility Cloak, and they might as well start packing their trunks.
When Professor McGonagall appeared, Elian, Harry, and Hermione shot to their feet. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she loomed over them.
"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr Filch says you were up the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."
Elian glanced at Harry and Hermione. They stood frozen, pale as statues. With a sigh, he stepped forward.
"It was me, Professor," he said evenly. "Malfoy and I don't exactly get along. To make a fool of him, I let him overhear a fake conversation. I used a voice-mimicking charm to copy Potter's voice and made it sound like he was hiding a dragon, set to be released at midnight."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed.
"I told Harry and Hermione what I'd done," Elian went on quickly. "They tried to stop me,followed me, actually, and that's how they got dragged into this. It wasn't their fault. The blame's mine."
"Is that true, Miss Granger? Mr Potter?" Professor McGonagall's voice was like ice.
Harry opened his mouth. "No—" He froze when Elian shot him and Hermione a look. Not his usual sharp glare, but something different. A warning.
"So you've nothing to say," McGonagall said crisply. Her eyes snapped back to Elian.
"I am disgusted, Mr. Vale," she said, her voice rising. "I thought you only had a sharp tongue, but this… this was beyond petty. And you dragged two Gryffindor students into it." She turned on Harry and Hermione. "Detention. For all three of you. Yes, you two as well. Nothing gives you the right to wander the castle at night, especially these days. It is dangerous." She then drew in a sharp breath. "One hundred points from you, Mr Vale. Counted from Gryffindor, since you chose their company. Twenty-five each from Mr Potter and Miss Granger."
"But they weren't with me, Professor," Elian said quickly.
"They still broke the rules, Mr Vale," McGonagall snapped. "Now get back to bed... I have never been more ashamed of a single student."
A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the House Cup. Elian didn't say a word. He walked beside them in silence, his expression unreadable. Harry and Hermione didn't press him for answers—they couldn't. The weight of what had just happened was crushing enough. Their own shock and guilt over Gryffindor's downfall left no room for questions.
At first, the next morning, Gryffindors stopping by the giant hour-glasses thought it had to be a mistake. How could a hundred and fifty points have vanished overnight? But whispers spread quickly through the corridors, and the story grew with every retelling. By breakfast, everyone had heard some version of it: Elian Vale, the odd boy sorted into all four houses, had cost Gryffindor every last point. Some said he'd tricked Harry Potter himself, others swore he'd lured a pack of gullible first-years into one of his schemes. Whatever the details, one thing was certain, Gryffindor had Elian to blame. Elian had become the most hated student in the castle. No one from any House wanted to sit near him or even be caught talking to him. Harry, on the other hand, found himself in a strange middle ground. Some blamed him outright, calling him foolish for spending so much time with Elian and getting dragged into his schemes. Others pitied him, remembering that he had won two Quidditch matches and carried Gryffindor to first place only to see all those points vanish in a single night because of Elian.
Everywhere Elian went, people pointed and made no effort to lower their voices as they insulted him. Elian, however, hardly seemed to care. He shot back with his usual wit, turning most of the whispers into open debates. The Slytherins, on the other hand, treated him like a hero. They clapped as he passed, whistling and calling out, "Thanks, Vale, we owe you one!" To that, Elian always had the same reply: "I'm Sorted in all four houses, so I'm winning either way."
Hermione was suffering, too. She didn't have it as bad as Elian or Harry, since she wasn't as well known, but even so, most students refused to speak to her. She stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. Elian, meanwhile, had pulled away from Harry, Ron, and Hermione altogether. It was clear to him now that the more time he spent with them, the more trouble he would drag onto their shoulders.
Elian no longer stayed in the Gryffindor tower. Without a word to anyone, he had shifted his belongings to the Slytherin tower and, from then on, became almost invisible to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Exams and staggered class schedules made it even harder to find him. And on the rare occasions they spotted him in the Great Hall or the library, Elian would ignore them completely, acting as if he had never known them at all.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't know what to do. They wanted to tell Elian that he wasn't at fault alone, that things would return to normal, that they missed their friend. But his isolation only pushed him further away, drifting out of their reach a little more each day.
Elian wasn't finished. Now that he was on his own, he no longer had to worry about explaining himself to anyone. His next goal was the Philosopher's Stone. He believed it might hold answers to the mystery of his ornaments, but reaching it was nearly impossible. Fluffy and the professors enchantments made sure of that. Still, Elian had a plan. He decided to shadow Quirrell, knowing the professor was after the Stone as well. If he could track Quirrell's progress, Elian might find a way to reach the Stone first.
The upcoming exams worked in Elian's favor. Professors were preoccupied, students buried themselves in revision, and his ruined reputation ensured he was left alone. That solitude gave him the perfect cover to shadow Quirrell without drawing notice.
The following week, Elian made a point of attending nearly every Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. The pain in his wrist from the bracelet had dulled, partly from healing charms, partly because he had grown used to it. He even began skipping other classes, especially Transfiguration(for obvious reasons), just so he could shadow Quirrell. When he couldn't follow in person, his ring allowed him to shrink Tuffy down to the size of a housefly, making the dragon the perfect spy to track Quirrell unnoticed.
For the first few days, tailing Quirrell yielded nothing. He taught his classes, buried himself in paperwork, and repeated the routine. Occasionally, Elian spotted him lingering near the third-floor corridor, but never long enough to act on. Then, one afternoon when Elian had no lessons, something changed. Instead of returning to his office, Quirrell walked straight past it. Elian followed, keeping a greater distance than usual. A prickling unease told him that Quirrell wasn't the only one being watched.
Quirrell slipped into a classroom near the library. The closer Elian crept, the sharper the unease gnawed at him. Just as he leaned in to peer through the doorway.
"Elian?"
He stiffened. It was Harry.
"What are—"
"Shhh." Elian silenced him with a sharp hiss. From inside came Quirrell's trembling voice. Both boys pressed their ears to the wall.
"No–no–not again, please—"
It was as if someone invisible was cornering him. Harry and Elian exchanged a quick look, then leaned closer.
"All right—all right—" Quirrell sobbed.
A moment later, he stumbled out of the classroom, tugging at his turban with shaky hands. His face was drained of color, eyes wet as if he had barely held back tears. He hurried down the hall without even glancing their way. The boys waited until his footsteps faded, then pushed the door open. The classroom was empty, except for a smaller door at the far end, standing slightly ajar.
"It must be Snape!" Harry blurted out, his voice low but urgent. "Quirrell must have cracked, he must've told Snape how to break his Anti–Dark Force spell!"
Harry turned to Elian for a reaction, but Elian was already striding away, silent and unreadable.
"Elian, wait!" Harry called after him, almost pleading.
For the briefest moment, Elian's shoulders twitched, as though the words had reached him, but he never slowed, disappearing down the corridor without a glance back.
Harry headed straight for the library, guilt gnawing at him. He hated how things had gone with Elian, but he would have bet twelve Philosopher's Stones that Snape had just been in that room. From the way Quirrell had sounded, it was clear he'd finally cracked.
In the library, Hermione was quizzing Ron on Astronomy when Harry slipped into the chair beside them and relayed what he had overheard.
"So... Elian doesn't consider us his friends anymore," Hermione muttered, her voice low and tight, as if the words hurt to say. Neither Harry nor Ron answered. As much as they wanted to deny it, Elian hadn't given them any reason to believe otherwise.
"Anyway," Ron said quickly, eager to change the subject. "If Quirrell's told Snape how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell—"
"There's still Fluffy," Hermione reminded him.
"Maybe Snape's found a way past him without asking Hagrid," Ron said, glancing up at the towering shelves. "Bet there's a book in here somewhere on how to slip by a three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"
The spark of adventure had returned to Ron's eyes, but Hermione cut in before Harry could answer.
"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should've done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves, we'll be expelled for certain."
"But we've got no proof!" Harry shot back. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape only has to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Hallowe'en, and that he was never near the third floor. Who do you think Dumbledore will believe—him or us? Everyone knows we hate him. They'll think we're just making it up to get him sacked. And Filch? He wouldn't lift a finger for us—he'd probably cheer if we got thrown out." Harry's voice dropped. "And look what happened to Elian because of us. If we push this the wrong way, it won't just be points this time."
Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.
"If we just do a bit of poking around–"
"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."
He pulled a map of Jupiter towards him and started to learn the names of its moons.
*
The following morning, notes were delivered to Harry, Hermione, and Elian in the Entrance Hall.
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock
tonight. Meet Mr Filch in the Entrance Hall.
Elian glanced at his note, shrugged as if it were no more than a timetable, and slipped it away. When he caught Harry and Hermione watching him, he didn't bother meeting their eyes. He simply walked on.
At eleven o'clock that night, as Elian was about to leave the Slytherin common room, he found Malfoy leaning against the entrance, waiting for him. Elian had almost forgotten that Malfoy had detention as well.
"Tut, tut, Vale," Malfoy drawled with a smug grin. "All alone, thanks to that clever tongue of yours. I thought about telling McGonagall the truth, but watching everyone turn their backs on you? That's much sweeter."
"Everyone?" Elian asked with mock innocence. "Funny, because last I checked, Slytherins treat me like a hero for knocking a hundred and fifty points off Gryffindor." He let the pause stretch, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You, on the other hand… well, I don't think I need to finish that thought, do I?"
"You—" Draco started, but Elian was already striding off. Draco hurried to catch up, and the two traded barbs all the way to the Entrance Hall. There, Harry and Hermione stood waiting beside Filch. They glanced at Elian, but he only kept up his air of indifference, as if he hadn't even noticed them.
"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. "I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he continued, leering at them. "Oh yes … hardwork and pain are the best teachers if you ask me … It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out … hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed … Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."
They marched across the dark grounds. Harry kept wondering what their punishment would be. It had to be something dreadful, Filch wouldn't be this cheerful otherwise. Elian, however, wasn't paying the caretaker any attention. His mind was still on the day before. Who had Quirrell been speaking to? Quirrell alone could never have the nerve to steal the Philosopher's Stone. That much was clear. But then, who could be bold enough to challenge Dumbledore himself and use Quirrell as their pawn?
The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, they could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.
"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."
Harry's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. His relief must have showed in his face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy – it's into the Forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."
At this, Malfoy let out a little moan and stopped dead in his tracks.
"The Forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night – there's all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I heard."
"That's your lookout, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"
Hagrid came striding towards them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.
"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Elian, Harry an' Hermione?"
"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."
"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."
"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back towards the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.
Malfoy turned to Hagrid, his face pale.
"I'm not going in that forest," he said flatly.
"Oh, I thought you'd feel right at home there, Malfoy," Elian said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
Malfoy sneered. "What do you know about home, Vale?"
"If it's anything like yours, I'd rather not," Elian shot back.
"That's enough, you two," Hagrid cut in sharply. He fixed Malfoy with a fierce glare. "Yeh've done wrong, an' now yeh'll pay fer it."
"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be writing lines or something. If my father knew I was doing this, he'd –"
"– tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Writin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on!" Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously but then dropped his gaze.
"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, "cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."
He led them to the very edge of the Forest. Holding his lamp up high he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the Forest.
"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."
"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.
"There's nothin' that lives in the Forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."
"I want Fang," Malfoy said quickly, his eyes darting to the dog's long teeth.
"All right," said Hagrid, "but I'm warnin' yeh—he's a coward."
"So is Malfoy," Elian muttered under his breath.
Malfoy shot him a glare, but his fear kept him silent.
Hagrid pressed on. "Me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way. Elian, Draco, and Fang'll take the other. If any of us find the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks—go on, get yer wands out an' practice. That's it. Now, if anyone gets into trouble, red sparks, and we'll come runnin'. So be careful. Let's go."
The Forest swallowed them as soon as they stepped inside. The air was damp and heavy, the silence broken only by the crunch of leaves beneath their feet. At a fork in the path, Hagrid, Harry, and Hermione went left, while Elian, Malfoy, and Fang turned right.
As Malfoy and Fang moved ahead, Hagrid held Elian back for a moment and whispered, "Sorry, I reckoned yeh'd be the best one ter handle Malfoy."
"It's all right, Hagrid," Elian said with a faint smile. "You did me a favor anyway."
Before Hagrid could ask what he meant, Elian slipped off into the shadows to catch up with Malfoy and Fang. They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver blue blood on the fallen leaves.
Elian noticed Malfoy creeping along like a frightened cat, though for once he didn't mock him, because the deeper they went, the heavier the air felt in his own chest.
They reached a fallen blackened trunk, its roots twisted like claws, and the ground around it was splattered with more patches of unicorn blood. Elian froze, throwing an arm across Malfoy's path to halt him.
"What is it, Vale?" Malfoy asked, his voice cracking as he tried to force it into a drawl.
"I don't know," Elian said quietly, his tone sharper than usual. "But I've got a bad feeling."
"Are you scared?" Malfoy sneered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him after the sudden sharpness in Elian's tone.
Elian didn't bother answering. Instead, he crouched slightly and ran a steady hand over Fang's head.
"Smell them, Fang," he said quietly, pointing toward the patches of silver-stained leaves.
Fang whined and hung back, but Elian's firm pat and calm touch urged him forward at last, the dog's nose lowering reluctantly to the ground.
After Fang caught the scent, he padded forward reluctantly. Elian followed in silence, every step sharpening the knot in his chest. Malfoy trailed close behind, darting nervous glances at the shadows.
The patches of blood grew thicker, and so did Elian's unease. The forest seemed to press in on them until, without warning, something rustled sharply in the bushes nearby. At the same instant, the bracelet on Elian's wrist tightened like a warning. Before he could react, Malfoy let out a piercing scream.
"Aaaaaa!" he shrieked, firing red sparks into the sky in blind panic.
Elian dashed toward the bushes, leaving Malfoy and Fang behind. The tightening of the bracelet gnawed at him, was it Quirrell? But what would he be doing in the Forest? Or was it something else, something darker, the very thing hunting unicorns? Questions jolted through his mind as he pushed through the undergrowth.
On the other side, there was… nothing. Just trees, shadows, and silence. Elian scanned the area, heart pounding. Then, a crashing sound erupted behind him, growing louder, closer. He spun around, wand raised, ready to strike. A massive figure burst from the trees, and Elian's spell was on the tip of his tongue when the moonlight caught the face.
It was Hagrid.
"Elian!" Hagrid called, breathing hard, relief plain in his voice. "Are yeh alright? Malfoy said yeh bolted off this way."
Elian lowered his wand.
"I'm fine, Hagrid," he said evenly. "The bushes rustled in the wind. Malfoy panicked, set off red sparks, and I came to check it out."
Hagrid gave him a long look, then nodded. Together, they headed back to the clearing, where Fang and Malfoy waited, and so did Harry and Hermione, looking ruffled. From the way Hagrid was still huffing, Elian guessed he'd carried them both out; Hermione and Harry were brushing stray branches from their hair and robes.
"We're changin' groups," Hagrid said firmly. "No more of that nonsense. Malfoy, yeh're with me an' Hermione. Harry, you go with Elian an' Fang."
Harry glanced at Elian, thinking this might be his only chance to set things right between them.
As the three of them moved on, Elian took the lead, pushing through the same bushes he had passed before. They walked in silence, the trail of blood growing thicker, the forest pressing darker and heavier around them. Fang padded close at their heels, ears twitching at every sound.
"Elian," Harry said at last, his voice breaking the silence. Elian didn't answer, just kept walking.
Harry quickened his pace, caught up, and placed a hand on Elian's shoulder.
"Please," he said quietly. "Let's talk this over."
Elian let out a long sigh and turned.
"What do you want, Potter?" he said, his voice flat.
Harry didn't hesitate. "Do you not consider me, Hermione, and Ron your friends anymore?"
For a moment, Elian stayed silent, his expression unreadable. Then he spoke, his tone calm but firm.
"It's not about whether I see you as friends, Potter. It's that you shouldn't be my friend anymore."
"But why?" Harry asked, his voice tight.
"Are you seriously asking that, Potter?" Elian shot back. "Did you forget I tricked you into breaking the rules?"
"But that was a lie, you said it to protect me and Hermione," Harry argued.
Before Elian could reply, a low slithering sound drifted through the trees. His bracelet tightened sharply, a colder, stranger pressure than before.
Harry lowered his voice. "What was that?"
"Let's find out," Elian said, though unease crept into his chest.
They followed the sound until the trees opened into a clearing. On the ground ahead lay a unicorn, its body gleaming with an otherworldly light. Its long, slender legs sprawled at awkward angles, and its silver-white mane fanned across the dark leaves like spilled starlight. It was beautiful, and unbearably tragic.
But then shivers passed through both of their bodies because, from a nearby bush, a cloaked figure making the same slithering sound crawled toward the unicorn. It was looking like a stalking beast. Harry stood transfixed, and Fang was quivering with fear, but Elian took a heavy breath, patted Fang, and whispered to him, "Go," pointing in the second group's direction. Fang bolted in that direction.
Harry and Elian then witnessed something horrifying. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.
Elian's wrist throbbed with unbearable pain as the bracelet tightened like a vice, forcing him to his knees. He clutched at it desperately, biting back a groan.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, alarmed, stepping closer. His foot snapped a dry branch underfoot with a sharp crack.
The hooded figure froze, then lifted its head toward them. Blood glistened down its cloak, dripping from its mouth. Elian's eyes widened. He forced himself to his feet despite the pain.
"Run!" he shouted, voice cracking with urgency, but
Harry stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the horror before him.
Harry suddenly cried out, clutching his scar as he stumbled backward. Elian gritted his teeth and forced his trembling arm to raise his wand, but the bracelet's constriction was unbearable. His wrist burned so fiercely he couldn't even twist his hand to aim properly.
The hooded figure glided closer, its presence pressing down like a suffocating weight. It loomed only steps away, reaching for them. Then a thunderous sound split the clearing. A centaur leapt over their heads, landing between them and the cloaked creature. With a powerful charge, it drove the figure back into the shadows.
Both Harry and Elian stood frozen for a moment, still shaken, before turning their eyes to the centaur. His hair was white-blond, flowing like silver in the moonlight, and his palomino body gleamed against the shadows.
Then before Elian could say something, without warning, his black stud gleamed faintly. His vision blurred, his eyes flashing with light. A pull yanked at him from within, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer in the forest.
He was in the void again.
"So, you're already in the forest, huh?"
Elian turned, and there he was. The faceless man.
"Didn't I tell you, Elian Vale," the figure said, voice smooth and hollow, "that you don't have enough time to do anything you want? Yet here you are, ignoring me."
Elian tried to speak, but just like before, he had no mouth. His body strained against something unseen, bound by invisible chains that refused to give way.
"We're almost out of time," the faceless man said. His voice echoed like it came from nowhere and everywhere. "But before I leave, remember this: trust them, if you want them to trust you."
The void collapsed.
When Elian opened his eyes again, he was back in the Gryffindor common room. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gathered around him, worried.
Elian stirred, rubbing the back of his head.
"Are you alright? Hagrid said that you might have fainted from fatigue" Hermione said, worry etched across her face. Elian didn't answer right away. The faceless man's words kept circling in his mind. Elian then suddenly chuckled, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanging puzzled glances.
"Did you lose your mind in the forest?" Ron asked, half-serious.
"No, Weasley," Elian said with a faint smile. "I think I just found it again."
The three of them stared at him, unsure what to make of that.
"What? Is there something on my face?" Elian asked lightly.
"No—" Ron began, then hesitated. "It's just… we thought you didn't want to be our friend anymore."
"And why would you think that?" Elian asked, his voice mock-innocent.
"So… does this mean we're friends again?" Hermione asked carefully.
"Weren't we always, Granger?" Elian replied smoothly.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't press further. The relief of having him back as a friend was worth more than any explanation.
"So, Potter," Elian asked, "what happened after I blacked out? I remember a centaur scaring off that hooded figure."
Harry suddenly tensed.
"His name was Firenze," Harry said. "He carried us to Hagrid. He told me unicorn blood can keep someone alive, but the life you get from it is cursed. That's why the hooded figure was drinking it."
"But why would anyone want a cursed life?" Ron asked, uneasy.
"Because they're desperate to return," Hermione answered quietly.
"It's Voldemort!" Harry burst out.
"Shhh! Don't say his name!" Ron hissed, going pale.
"And the chance he's waiting for is the Philosopher's Stone," Elian added.
"Snape's after it, for Voldemort!" Harry said, ignoring Ron's protests.
"Stop saying his name!" Ron repeated, almost trembling.
Elian's lips pressed together. He wanted to shout Quirrell's name, to set them on the right trail, but it was too late. Better to stay quiet, for now, and focus on making sure they reached the Stone before anyone else did.
"Voldemort wants to come back and finish me off!" Harry said, pacing the common room. He wasn't even listening to Ron anymore. "He couldn't do it last time, so he'll make sure of it this time!"
Hermione looked shaken, but she tried to steady her voice.
"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. As long as Dumbledore's here, he won't dare touch you."
"And it's a bit arrogant to think he'd return just to kill you," Elian said dryly, but his sarcasm did nothing to calm Harry down.
The night ended soon after. Elian, Ron, and Harry climbed up to the dormitory, where they found Harry's Invisibility Cloak folded neatly on his bed. On top of it lay a small note:
Just in case.