Chapter 197: Quirrell and Snape
The sky gradually darkened. Under Hagrid's guidance, Sean even encountered some Bowtruckles.
The little creatures were extremely shy, but they didn't reject Sean, allowing him to raise the affinity of one of them to Apprentice level. Hagrid loudly praised Sean for his high talent with magical creatures, comparing him to an old Hufflepuff gentleman he once knew.
It was now time for dinner at Hogwarts.
Just at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a broomstick suddenly took flight. Harry silently swept over the castle and followed a cloaked figure into the trees.
Sean was saying his goodbyes to Hagrid when he spotted the furtive Harry.
He raised a hand, and a broomstick shot out of the castle like lightning. In the absence of onlookers and danger, Sean unleashed the broom's full performance. Even the fastest Seeker would be left in its dust.
High above the Forbidden Forest, Harry was anxious. The trees were too dense. He couldn't see where Professor Snape had gone after leaving the castle.
He circled, descending lower, skimming the treetops, and finally heard voices. He flew lightly towards them, silently landing on a tall beech tree.
Below, in a shadowed clearing, stood Professor Snape, but he was not alone. Professor Quirrell was there too.
Harry couldn't make out Quirrell's expression, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to hear their conversation.
"...D-don't know why you w-w-want to meet here, Severus..."
"I think it best not to be overheard," Snape said, his voice cold. "After all, the students shouldn't know about the Philosopher's Stone."
Harry's heart lurched. He listened even more intently.
"...We shall talk again when you have had time to think, and decide where your loyalties lie." Snape pulled his cloak over his head and strode quickly out of the clearing. It was nearly pitch black, but Harry could still see Quirrell standing motionless, like a statue carved of mud and wood.
Harry's face was white.
If Professor Snape wasn't the culprit—he had stopped the curse during the Quidditch match—then the person he was watching, Professor Quirrell, was highly likely involved.
But why would Professor Quirrell try to harm him? And where did his loyalties lie?
Harry realized the frightening possibility.
"Harry?" A voice cut through the silence.
"Voldemort!" Harry blurted out.
He saw Sean looking at him in confusion.
"I didn't mean you. I mean, Sean—"
Seeing Sean instantly calmed Harry's fear and worry. He regained his composure immediately.
"You heard it too, Sean?" Harry asked cautiously.
"Yes."
Sean understood that, thanks to his earlier affirmation of Professor Snape, none of the students in the Room of Hope had suspected Snape. Harry hadn't completely misunderstood Snape this time; while he still believed Snape disliked him, he didn't think the professor was trying to kill him.
"Professor Quirrell... is he trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked, half-questioning Sean, half-muttering to himself.
"What should we do, Sean?"
Inside the Room of Hope, Harry had relayed the critical information. The round table was full.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for Sean's reply.
The fireplace roared, bathing the room in firelight. As it was an emergency meeting, the candles hadn't been lit, giving the leader's face an obscure, thoughtful look.
Justin fell silent after asking the question. He was always a little smarter than the other students present. He easily guessed the likely possibilities surrounding the greatest white wizard's plan.
Neville was trembling. Hermione frowned, suddenly remembering that if she hadn't stopped Professor Snape in the stands that day, Quirrell might have succeeded. She clenched her jaw, panicked, until she looked at Sean. Sean had stopped her in time. This meant Sean might have known all along...
Sean, sitting in the leader's seat, wasn't thinking about the immediate threat.
In first year, Voldemort had a hundred ways to die, but none of them involved getting the Philosopher's Stone. As long as no student was seized by Voldemort on the fourth-floor corridor, he would never get past the final hurdle—the Mirror of Erised, which only yielded the Stone to those who didn't want it for themselves.
Headmaster Dumbledore had clearly noticed Professor Quirrell's strange behaviour. The real reason Dumbledore hadn't immediately dealt with the matter was likely to provide Harry with an opportunity for growth.
"Keep your distance from Professor Quirrell, keep an eye on him, and if anything unusual happens, use these..." Sean said softly, taking out a stack of seemingly ordinary white papers.
"What are these?" Ron asked, puzzled, examining the stack.
Sean calmly wrote a name with his quill and picked up a sheet. It immediately folded itself into a paper airplane that zipped straight through the round table and into Ron's hand.
"Seven-Second Paper Airplanes. They can reach anyone in Hogwarts Castle within seven seconds. Write the name on it beforehand, and when you use it, touch it and think of the recipient's name."
This was the communication method Professor Terra had given Sean. As they were reusable, he had extras, which were now coming in handy.
Firelight illuminated every face.
Leaving the Room of Hope, everyone felt burdened by a heavy task.
A minion of Voldemort was lurking in Hogwarts Castle...
Harry and Ron didn't even know if Dumbledore was aware, but Hermione and Justin had deeper thoughts. They didn't believe Dumbledore was ignorant; the Headmaster clearly had some kind of plan.
This fueled a quiet anger in them: "Headmaster Dumbledore knows about this, yet he hasn't solved it. Instead, he's left Hogwarts in danger. I don't think much of this plan." Hermione said heatedly, recalling the three-headed dog, when she had genuinely feared for her life.
"You know what I realized, Hermione?" Justin nodded in agreement.
"Relying on others is useless... Relying on ourselves gives us the best chance."
Justin seemed to finally understand why Sean was always studying magic tirelessly.
They walked down the corridor in silence for a while.
Both seemed to have undergone a subtle, unique change.
(End of Chapter)
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