"It was a downright stupid prank ," muttered Smarty. "Nobody appreciated the humor anyway, but they could have been interested in how Harry was able to improve a rather complex transport artifact!"
- Oh, come on, it was fun! - the boy waved it off carelessly, enthusiastically writing runes on the parchment lying in front of him. - These "orcs" from your world are such funny guys! And they talk funny, - Potter giggled. Then he winced comically and said in a distorted voice: - I'll tear those legs off, humie! Dakka-dakka-dakka!
Гарри весело рассмеялся, под вторящий ему смех Сластёны и ворчание Умника. Образы мира, в котором раньше обитали четверо духов, увлекали его и сильно забавляли. В основном эти видения транслировались Гарри в голову для того, чтобы он понял, как применять ту или иную технику магии варпа, её возможностях и перспективах. Но были и сопутствующие видения. В том числе и о так рассмешивших Поттера орках.
Of course, his brand new Nimbus didn't fly faster and lighter because of the red paint - for that to work, it needed some incomprehensible "WAAAAAGH!!!!" mentioned by the boy's spirit advisors. Which Harry, of course, didn't have.
He achieved this result by carving the Chaos runes suggested by the Smart Guy on the broomstick and saturating them with his blood. The red paint served only to hide these manipulations from outsiders.
So the joke was really, as they say, for the inner circle. Although Smarty suggested that soon other Gryffindors would risk painting their brooms red - the result was still quite obvious.
As for the runes he was writing on the parchment with, it was a kind of "matrix," as the Tzeentch demon had put it. Harry hadn't quite figured out what that meant yet, but as the Smarty assured him, when he did, he would be able to understand many of Hogwarts' mechanisms, predict the movement of its staircases, control its inhabitants, and perhaps even acquire the ability to avert the eyes of the teachers and the headmaster. That's the gist of it.
But that was more a matter for the relatively distant future - and more complex "matrices". Right now, Harry was poring over the parchment with one very narrow and rather urgent goal. Namely, to figure out the mechanism of surveillance of students.
As it turned out, the living paintings were mostly found only in the main, widest corridors of the castle and its inhabited wings. While in the various dark corners of Hogwarts, the dungeons and abandoned classrooms, there were none.
But neither Harry nor his inner voices believed that no one controlled the students' movements in these territories! Moreover, meditating through the warp, Harry, in addition to the minds of students and teachers, felt many flashes and whispers that differed from ordinary people. And these, as already mentioned, were not ghosts or intelligent pictures.
He learned to recognize and detect ghosts in advance first and foremost. The strongest incentive for this was Peeves - a malicious poltergeist who was always trying to do harm to younger students! After Harry managed to dodge and drag Hermione away from a dung bomb attack only at the last moment, he took up the science of predicting the future seriously. Because, as it turned out, simply feeling that "something nasty will happen in the next two minutes" and accurately understanding this danger are slightly different things!
That's why the boy pored over complex calculations, full of runes and numbers. To some of his peers, what he continued to draw and calculate over and over again would have seemed like incomprehensibly complex higher mathematics! But Harry's mind, strengthened and advanced by the Smart One, coped well with a bunch of equations and variables. Including thanks to Stream Separation and Mind Acceleration - two mental techniques from the Tzeentchite arsenal that helped him process several streams of information at once at an accelerated pace, like a real computer.
Now, if the foresight signaled some troubles in the next two minutes, but without specifying details, it was enough for him to imagine a similar runic "matrix" before his eyes in order to predict with sufficient accuracy what exactly would happen.
The task was made easier by the fact that, like mere mortals, ghosts also left their mark in the warp, albeit much weaker than the living. So the calculations rather helped to "highlight" their presence at a particular point in space. But, in general, Harry Potter was already quite successful in avoiding contact with these strange entities, even if they hid in the walls or passed through the ceiling.
The problem with the paintings was solved even more simply: as Smarty explained after his small research, these constructs themselves are completely shielded from the warp - the principle of those very "soul stones", as he explained. And if you use not just the usual wards that affect the mind and feelings, but visual masking with simultaneous partial physical immersion in the warp - the paintings will completely stop perceiving Harry in any way.
The question was precisely about that very "partial physical immersion." All four of Potter's companions said in unison that it was something unimaginable, incredible, and pleasant… but at the same time quite risky. Something that should be prepared for first – under their wise guidance, of course.
So Harry simply tried to avoid paintings, as well as ghosts.
But there remained a third observer. Or rather, observers.
From his very first day at Hogwarts, Harry had been increasingly understanding and differentiating the levels of attention to his person - meditations in the warp, feeling other people's emotions and analyzing fate lines contributed greatly to this. And so, in addition to attempts at mental scanning, the usual observation by teachers, the attention of other students, as well as surveillance of paintings and ghosts, the boy very soon singled out another direction from which he was being closely watched.
What he could already say with absolute certainty was that these were clearly living creatures. Smaller than a human, possessing some strange magic and physiology of their own, but still living creatures. They did not show themselves to the students, preferring to disguise themselves and disappear when they approached, these little creatures unobtrusively, but still kept an eye on the student fraternity. Especially closely - on the younger students.
In the wide and bright main corridors, especially in daylight, Harry almost never smelled them. But in the dungeons, in the classrooms and in the wings of the castle where there were no paintings, they were encountered quite often - especially in the evenings. The boy logically connected this fact with the fact that these creatures watched over the students so that in the absence of other observers they did not do anything that would threaten their lives and health. How they did this - by personal intervention, by reporting to teachers, or both - was unclear and required verification.
So Harry was working on a complex runic formula that would allow him to implement a plan that he and Smarty had developed together. Based on a complex mixture of ephemeral assumptions, incredible coincidences and fuzzy visions - in short, the very same combination that Chaos represented!
In general, it was this combination that distinguished warp magic very favorably from the magic that Harry was taught at Hogwarts. Of course, you had to study and memorize here just like in a regular school program - and even more! But the basis was what Sweet Tooth called "a creative approach", and Smarty - "intuition". That is - emotions. Feelings. Sensations! Something that was much closer to the eleven-year-old Potter than McGonagall's boring explanations or Flitwick's wand waving in lessons.
So the plan they had outlined, in the opinion of an outside normal person, not touched by Chaos or even just the Immaterium - was one big unfounded assumption! Such a person could use such terms in relation to him as "a piano in the bushes", "an owl on a globe" and other phrases, fortunately unknown to Harry.
That is why young Potter, after almost an hour of fascinating calculations and poring over the Chaos runes, furtively looked around - this was happening at the far end of the library - and, seeing no one, furtively took his dagger out of the sleeve of his robe and lightly pricked the pad of his finger, drawing blood.
The parchment with the unholy signs, as if a living creature, seemed to suck itself to the wound and began to drink the boy's blood, causing the runes to swell and begin to ooze black and crimson smoke, saturated with the power of the warp. Harry did not feel unpleasant, as before, when his aunt took him to the hospital to give a blood test. No, the sensations were even more... pleasant. Painful - that still went away - but surprisingly pleasant! And this was another little thing in the piggy bank of his conviction that he was doing the right thing, practicing Chaos magic.
However, Harry did not allow himself to drink his blood for long - in sorcery, any effort must always be strictly dosed, as Smarty taught him! If you want to become strong, but at the same time not become prey to some immaterial predator - you must restrain yourself. However, the scope of the necessary restraint expanded the more the warlock himself became stronger - an excellent incentive to grow and grow above oneself.
The runes smoked slightly for a couple of seconds, turning blacker and blacker, and then… they disappeared.
"Excellent!" said the Smart Guy with satisfaction. "Now the nearest path is defined and clear. Do you feel it?"
And indeed: Harry felt it! The runes he had just been drawing on the parchment were now embodied in the warp, as if he had burned them into the back of his skull. Or, well, into the "surface" of his soul. But the fact remained: he could now see the Path ahead.
Harry Potter stood up from his desk and calmly gathered his books. After all, the library was closing and the school bell would soon ring for curfew. Harry walked calmly towards Gryffindor Tower, greeting the portraits he recognized and the other students who were hurrying to their common rooms before curfew.
Having given the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady ("Red is faster", and when did they manage to change that?!), he walked through the living room without stopping, yawning demonstratively and rubbing his eyes. When Ron called out to invite his friend to play chess, and the Weasley twins, who had just laid out lemonade and some sweets on the table by the fireplace (the Sweet Tooth groaned in his head), he only shook his head and muttered about having to get up early for training tomorrow.
There was no one in the bedroom, as he had expected, so there was no one to see Harry clutch his temples with a groan and fall to his knees in the middle of the room.
His head was burning unbearably, as if someone was scratching from inside his skull, trying to get out - the runes engraved on the "surface" of Harry Potter's soul were gradually melting under the pressure of the warp currents. Their first layer.
When the terrible migraine ended, the boy, breathing heavily, moved to his bed and pulled the canopy closed. When his breathing finally evened out, he closed his eyes and sank into meditation, waiting for his roommates to arrive.
They didn't have to wait long: after about twenty minutes the other three inhabitants of their bedroom tumbled into the room and, talking listlessly, began to get ready for bed. Another half hour - and they all, having wished each other good night, went to bed.
The next countdown was an hour. Get up, pull back the canopy, raise your hand and feel the emanations from your snoring classmates. Harry didn't include the time it would take them to fall asleep on their own in his calculations - then his "matrix" wouldn't fit on a single scroll, and, according to Smarty, in the boy's head, either. And so, if necessary, he was ready to simply blast his neighbors with sleeping spells - that night he decided to take his wands with him as well.
But it all worked out - all three of them were sleeping peacefully. Having pulled the canopy curtains and created a sleeping illusory double on the bed, Harry went down to the common room. Empty, as he had expected - today it just so happened that no one in Gryffindor stayed out late. And again - a prick from inside the skull. Another rune that had gone out.
Then there was the exit to the outer corridor, accompanied by the sleepy muttering of the Fat Lady. In general, she was usually much more vigilant at the beginning of the night, but today some senior student, wanting to take a walk after lights out, threw a stun gun at her, putting her to sleep reliably. And so she only snored and did not notice the barely noticeable shadow that slipped from the passage into the living room and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.
Looping and waiting for a couple of seconds or even minutes in a pattern that only he understood, Harry Potter continued to move around the castle. Miraculously, without any invisibility, avoiding the gaze of the waking portraits on the walls and the attention of the ghosts that sometimes flew by on his route, the boy winced every now and then: the runes of his Forecast melted one after another.
But finally, Harry got to the right place.
One of the abandoned classrooms in the Gryffindor wing, on the first floor. Dusty desks stacked on top of each other along one wall, rows of chairs…
And one single patch of floor free of dust. On which stood a desk with a chair next to it - also cleaned of dirt. On the desk was an open book. Next to it was a smoking candle, as if it had just been extinguished, as well as an inkwell, a pen and parchment.
Well, and a chain of footprints in the dust that led from the door right to this patch of cleanliness.
Harry calmly, not even caring about invisibility, walked inside and closed the door tightly behind him. Then he dramatically waved his wand and said:
- Incendio!
The candle on the table lit up, and almost immediately the boy felt the emanations of fear from the wall behind the desk. Fear that was slowly turning into panic!
"Show yourself," Harry said softly, but a little mockingly. "I know you're here - so there's no point in hiding."
It took at least five seconds before the air in the place where the boy felt the alien presence seemed to push out a thin, short creature.
Proportions are approximately human*. Several times smaller in size, more slender, but quite close to human. Clothes - a white pillowcase, though with the Hogwarts coat of arms on the chest. Huge dark green almond-shaped eyes and long, pointed ears.
A house elf. Or, to be more precise, an elf, judging by some signs sticking out even from under such baggy "clothes".
"Young sir should not walk at night!" the elf said in a slightly trembling voice. Her gaze darted from side to side, betraying panic. "Young sir should return to the common room of his faculty!"
- Oh! - Harry grinned. - Indeed - this is a gross violation of the existing rules, right? - He looked straight into the elf's huge eyes. - How guilty I am! Perhaps we should call the caretaker or one of the teachers to...
"No!" the elf squeaked sharply, pressing her ears to her head like a frightened puppy. And then, coming to her senses, she began to chatter more quietly: "N-no, young sir, no need to call anyone! Quinky will just quickly show you to your bedroom, and then..."
- Oh, I see you're studying? - Harry drawled, as if he hadn't heard her words, looking at the supplies laid out on the desk. - Commendable, commendable... After all, this is a school, right? - Smiling crookedly, he waved his hands around the room, not paying attention to the house-elf's trembling lips. - What do we have here? - He walked up to the table and glanced at the cover of the book. - "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them"? Quite an interesting book...
"S-sir, I beg you…" the elf was almost crying.
- Although, wait, - the boy continued to ignore her, "thoughtful". - This is a school for children of wizards. For people ! - he clarified with a little pressure, squinting. - Not for goblins, not for mermaids and not for... house elves, - smiling even wider, he looked again at the unfortunate elf, pale as a sheet. - It seems there is even a special law... A very, very strict law that forbids non-humans from studying magic. Isn't that right?
Covering her eyes with her hands, the unfortunate house-elf fell to her knees and began to whine softly. And Harry winced for a moment in pain - several more runes of his Forecast went out in his soul, announcing the coming of the predicted events. But, throwing the pain aside, he continued in an unctuous voice:
"Oh-oh-oh," he shook his head. "Such a monstrous, horrible crime... Compared to the walks after lights out, it's like night and day!"
- Young s-sir! - the house-elf was already openly sobbing. - Quinky is not to blame! Quinky just really, really likes to read! - she sobbed, closing her eyes and cowering on the floor. - Don't give Quinky away, young s-sir! - she howled in a trembling voice, suddenly hugging Harry's knees.
- Hm, - the boy "thought" again. - But then it turns out that I will become an accomplice, because I did not report the crime. That is, the same criminal! How can I do that?
- P-please, young sir! - Again the darting gaze and trembling voice. - Quinkie will do everything! Anything, anything, just don't give it away! - she howled again, burying her face in Harry's knees.
"Oh, and I even have a bunch of ideas about this "everything-everything", he-he ," the voice of the Sweet Tooth snickered nastily in Harry's head. "It's a pity that not all of this "everything" is available to us before we turn sixteen... Damn that fucking hat!" he growled at the end.
"Shut up!" Smarty snapped. "Time is running out. Time to wrap this up!"
And indeed: it was worth hurrying. The calculated Path, although it provided for some variability, was still worth staying at least within the framework of the main time channel. The further — the greater the probability of intervention of unexpected factors!
- Really? - the boy was "surprised" by the elf's words. - "Really "everything-everything"?"
The brownie nodded furiously, so much so that Harry was even afraid that her head would fall off her thin neck.
- Well then... - he drawled. - Good. I will take an oath from you. An oath by which you will serve me!
"B-but, sir," the elf said uncertainly, looking at the boy with confusion. "Quinky already serves Hogwarts. Quinky can't betray the school to serve another person..."
"By serving Hogwarts, you serve all of its inhabitants, don't you?" Potter raised his eyebrows. "I'd just ask that you pay a little more attention to my requests. And even then, you don't want anyone to know about your secret, do you?"
Judging by the way Quinky shook her head and closed her eyes, she definitely didn't want to. Although she continued to doubt that the first-year student would be able to do anything technically.
"Okay," Harry nodded. "Then take off your clothes!"
"W-what?!" She stared at Harry, amazed and even more frightened.
"Well, we must… seal our oath, mustn't we?" Potter said, sticking out the tip of his tongue. When the panicked elf tried to take a step back again, the ritual knife began to glow in the boy's hand…
Halloween was approaching. Jack-o'-lanterns hung from the ceiling, and decorations in the form of bats, spiders, and other gloomy Halloween paraphernalia were hung everywhere. The mood of most students was relaxed, if not lax - with the exception of the fifth and seventh years. Well, the latter never knew peace, constantly repeating and cramming materials for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.
Harry was so preoccupied with his new abilities and his attempts to hide them that he was very surprised by the conversations between Ron Weasley and his twin brothers.
- W-what? - the boy didn't immediately get it. - What hidden artifact? What Forbidden Corridor?!
"Harry, are you feeling okay?" Fred looked at him with feigned concern... or maybe it was George.
"Does your head hurt?" his twin asked.
- Nausea?
— Hallucinations?
— Voices in your head?...
Harry frowned. Sometimes the Weasley twins' jokes made him a little nervous. Even though Harry convinced himself that they themselves didn't realize how close they were to the truth at times!
"Since the beginning of the year!…" one of the twins continued.
"Two months!" the second one clarified.
— Everyone is wondering...
- What a treasure...
— They hid it on the third floor!
- It's as if you were born in a hollow...
- Yeah, in the Forbidden Forest!
Harry shook his head. No amount of mental exercises, no amount of warp meditations, no amount of brain-numbing calculations with the Smarty could give him such a headache as the chatter of the middle-aged Weasleys!
But after ten minutes of such torture, laughter and stupid jokes, he still managed to extract the meaning of what was said.
One of the distant corridors on the third floor of the main school building was declared closed to students. And at the opening feast, the headmaster warned the inhabitants of the castle about the exceptional danger of visiting there! Which, as expected, only further provoked the especially active students. Including the Weasley twins.
But if these two were counting on a clueless first-year with a "heroic" reputation to immediately rush to find out what was so interesting hidden in the Forbidden Corridor, they were in for a disappointment. Because the Boy Who Lived, the son of heroic parents and no less heroic conqueror of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, only snorted and shook his head, saying that he had enough homework as it was - the last thing he needed was to get extra detention for hanging around in the wrong places.
But he remembered the information. Especially since now he had someone he could send on reconnaissance.
To be honest, Quinky turned out to be a real treasure for Harry! She had access to the entire castle, the ability to spy on almost any of its inhabitants without being noticed, but most importantly, she was able to instantly move to almost any point in it!
And when the elf brought Harry sweets straight from the kitchen... He was ready to kiss her!
However, he did not kiss her. She still could not utter a word in his presence without permission - he inspired such horror in her. Especially after he placed the Mark of Chaos on her.
Harry didn't understand why Sweetie was openly laughing, remembering the scene of the Mark being applied. And what's wrong with that? Harry did everything clearly and quickly!...
...Quickly press the elf to the desk, sweeping the book, the extinguished candle with the inkwell and the parchment to the floor. Shut her mouth with the prepared gag. Press the house-elf's legs to the desk with your knees, and lay her down on the tabletop, fixing both hands above her head. Holding the dagger in her mouth for a moment and ignoring the furious moaning of the victim, sharply lift her pillowcase, exposing her small, slender body in all its glory. Take the dagger back in your hand and begin work...
He tried to make sure that Quinka's clothes weren't stained with blood - who the hell knows, these elves, how do they clean them? And he didn't want to leave evidence of what had happened. However, the warp fire almost immediately cauterized the cuts on the baby's stomach, so there was a minimum of blood.
Oh, how hard she fought in his arms! The unfortunate elf sobbed, moaned furiously and kicked, trying to break free from the hands of her tormentor. But the strength of the Chaos sorcerer, even though he was a minor, still surpassed the pitiful strength of the house-elf girl.
In the end, Quinky simply passed out from the pain - and this time Harry did not use magic to keep the elf conscious. Although - he must admit - for some reason he even began to like how the victim was writhing under him in pain and horror! But then he had only one thing in his head - the success of his business. Namely - the recruitment of his first agent within the walls of Hogwarts!
Pain and fear... the perfect combination, according to the same Smart Guy. And magic, of course!
When Harry pulled away from Quinky, who was sprawled on the desk, she had already more or less come to her senses. With trembling hands, she tried to fix the pillowcase that had been pulled up to her armpits. But she immediately winced in pain when she touched the symbol carved on her stomach.
Eight-pointed star of Chaos.
"Young s-sir," the house-elf muttered, having managed to stand up and looking in complete shock at her stomach, now hidden by the pillowcase. "You!... Wha-what have you done to Quinnie?!"
Shock on the face. Tears flowing down the cheeks. Hands shaking after the horror they had experienced.
But when Harry took a step towards her, Quinky recoiled as if she hadn't just been about to faint. Pressing herself against the wall, the elf began to babble:
"Young sir is a bad dark sorcerer! Quinky does not want to serve a bad young sir! Quinky... bloarrgh!" In the middle of the last sentence, she collapsed on the floor and began to convulse, kicking her legs and clutching her stomach. The star carved on it suddenly became inflamed and began to emit black warp smoke, causing the house-elf much more pain than even the knife that carved this symbol.
But Harry unclenched his fist, which was also smoking with warp, and the pain stopped.
- Quinky, Quinky... - the boy drawled. - What a pity that we have so little time today to talk longer , - he smiled broadly. - But rest assured - now I will not tell anyone about your - a glance towards the scattered accessories - little hobby. We made a deal, didn't we?
"N… bad… sir…" was all Quinky could mutter through her hysteria and tears. She realized that there was a magical connection between her and the terrible first-year who had just nearly violated her. It was impossible, unnatural, wrong! She worked for Hogwarts, she was part of the local community! But the fact remained that she was now both a school house-elf and…
And a slave of a warlock. An unknown monster in the skin of an eleven-year-old boy!
"Wonderful," the terrible "young sir" smiled even wider, to Quinky's even greater horror, sticking out his long tongue, almost to his chest, covered in thorns. However, she closed her eyes slightly and drove away the obsession. Or maybe the sorcerer had managed to hide his tongue back – she was so scared that she could hardly understand anything and could not distinguish reality from fiction. "In that case, clean up here," the warlock suddenly said in a completely calm voice, gesturing with his hand around the room they were in. "And then – continue to perform your previous… duties. If I need you – I'll call you," the malicious smile again, and the creepy visitor disappeared behind the door.
Quinky, curled up into a ball, lay on the floor for a while, trembling all over. But then, somehow gathering her strength, she stood up and began to carry out the orders of her... master.
He had barely managed to return before all the Forecast runes had faded. By the time Harry had flown into the bedroom, it had dissipated completely, after which the warp streams had once again blurred and scattered the nearest events along disparate threads of probability. Moreover, as Smarty had said, if he did not find strong enough victims, then in the coming months he could forget about normally foreseeing the future. Even for those measly two minutes that were available to Harry.
But now Potter could say for sure - it was worth it! Here, in this damn castle, he was limited on all sides, he could neither properly practice something new, nor meditate in relative solitude - nothing! He was in sight everywhere, the students were watched everywhere, so he simply could not devote more attention to his main hobby. Not to mention the usual joys of life, like sweets!
But now... Now everything has changed. With the service of one of the castle elves, Harry has at least a little bit of freedom!
Quinky was somewhat... discouraged by what had happened to her. Or, to be more precise, absolutely crushed!
However, Harry was completely sure that she would not only not turn him in, but would now try not to stand out among the other house elves. After all, in her understanding, she was now not only a lawbreaker caught red-handed. She was corrupted ! A house elves marked by dark magic - what could be worse? And if for the first she could simply be released or sent to Azkaban, then in the second case it was a guaranteed execution.
So Potter was pleased with himself. And with his success with the Forecast, and with the new opportunities, and with his understanding of the aspirations and fears of poor Quinky. His first, but soon not only slave!
But soon his mood was spoiled.
Troll! A troll in the castle dungeons! What's more, it's broken out into the upper corridors!
It was prey. A victim! The long-awaited and desired victim!...
Inaccessible victim.
"We have to be there! We have to kill!!!" Ruffnut raged in the boy's mind as he stomped alongside Ron and Hermione into Gryffindor Tower under the watchful eye of the prefects. "Such prey! Such a trophy! We can't just walk past like the others – like a herd of sheep!"
"Shut up ," Smarty snapped. "Harry's not ready to fight a troll - not now! We're weakened by the Forecast and the Mark. Fate Lines and combat foresight don't work!"
"We have already faced an armed enemy one on one!" the demon of Khorne did not calm down. "And we won!"
"That was a stinking drug addict, inadequate and weak ," Sweet Tooth snorted contemptuously. "And here - a whole troll! Thick skin, impenetrable by ordinary magic, enormous strength, resistance to psychic influence. Of course, we could try to attack with the entropy of Chaos - but Smart Tooth is right. We are too weak for that now."
"Weaklings! Cowards!" Ruffnut raged, but he couldn't do anything - Harry, despite the burning annoyance of such a fat prey slipping away, still wouldn't risk climbing on a whole troll after his antics a couple of days ago.
And the day after Halloween, during the long break, as he was hurrying to the library along one of the air galleries, his unnaturally acute hearing caught a strange conversation.
"Quirinus," someone said under the gallery. He said it quietly, just loud enough for only the person for whom the phrase was intended to hear. As you might guess, this "someone" was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Quirrell. "Can I have a word with you?"
That cold, deceptively calm voice belonged to only one person at Hogwarts: Severus Snape, the Potions teacher. Which was confirmed by Quirrell's answer:
- S-Severus, - the DOT student's voice croaked. - I'm actually in a bit of a hurry, if anything, m-maybe later...
"No," Snape cut him off sharply, judging by the rustle of his robes, coming very close to Quirrell. "Besides, my question is quite simple. Look, Quirinus," the Dean of Slytherin hissed deceptively benevolently, so that even Harry, who was eavesdropping from the gallery, was moved. "There is a teaching aid for seventh-year students - a troll. Securely immobilized, locked in the dungeons. Locked by you, supposedly a specialist, I must say," sarcasm cut into his voice. "And then this teaching aid suddenly breaks free at the very moment when all the students are in the Great Hall. An amusing coincidence, don't you think?"
- S-Severus, I r-really don't understand what you're getting at?...
- Oh? Really? - Snape's sarcasm again. - I'll continue then. So, given: a troll that suddenly broke out, prowling around the school. Plus, an artifact known to you and me, hidden... drum roll... at the opposite end of the troll's route. The students are taken to their dormitories, the teachers are distracted by the monster... Should I continue?
Harry heard Quirrell swallowing, and he was clearly very nervous. It was impossible to tell for sure, since the strange artifact in his turban was working properly, but it wasn't hard to guess. Harry would have been nervous himself, even if he hadn't been guilty of anything.
Meanwhile, Snape continued:
— And so we come to my completely banal question. What is it: incompetence or malicious intent?
"I-I don't u-understand..." Quirinus tried to mumble, but the potion maker hissed sharply:
- Let me put it more simply, Quirinus: are you an idiot or a traitor?!
There was a moment of silence, during which even Potter tried not to breathe. But then Quirrell's voice, nervous but still much firmer, was heard:
- I want to r-remind you, Severus, that it was n-not me, but you who rushed to the Forbidden Corridor first! O-undoubtedly to check its defenses! - the D-Defense student suddenly responded sarcastically to sarcasm. - And n-now, if you allow me, I still n-need to fill out the log!
And, apparently freed from Snape's grip, Quirrell hurried away. And just a few minutes later, the Potions Master's robes rustled away - all this time Harry had been sitting neither alive nor dead!
"Hmm ," drawled Smarty after another half minute. "It's getting stranger and stranger, don't you think?"
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