'Damn it! Dracula knows everything! He has just been toying with me!'
In Quirrell's cramped assistant professor's office, the younger version of Voldemort, who looked much more solid than before, was now full of a terrible rage. His handsome, ethereal features were twisted into an extremely distorted mask of fury.
'You good-for-nothing! Have you still not found a way to deal with that beast?!' He glared fiercely at Quirrell, throwing a thick stack of recently collected homework directly at his face. 'What else can you do besides collect homework and write lesson plans?! I had you infiltrate Hogwarts to steal the Philosopher's Stone, not to find a hard-working assistant for Dracula!'
Quirrell knelt on the ground, trembling all over. He let the homework scatter across the floor around him, not daring to make the slightest movement or utter a single word of retort.
'Heh. I should have let you die at Dracula's hands back in the Leaky Cauldron,' Voldemort's voice was as cold as ice. 'That time, when I saved you from Dracula's control, I spent a great deal of my own soul essence. It was only after obtaining the Horcrux diary that I was able to make up for some of that loss.'
'However, in order to cover for your identity, the curse and the "Finite Incantatem" spell used at the Quidditch pitch consumed most of my original energy once again!'
'The unicorn blood sacrificed some time ago did have some effect, but I am still far from recovered and cannot use this power again for a trivial matter. In this situation, you cannot even deal with a simple beast! Must I do everything myself?! What use are you, then?!'
'I am sorry… Master,' Quirrell said tremulously. 'I… I have actually come up with a plan. As long as the Romanian smuggler I contacted delivers the dragon egg, I can bet with Hagrid using the egg and trick him into revealing how to deal with the three-headed dog…'
'That would be too obvious, you idiot!' Voldemort roared. 'Hagrid, that oaf, wants to raise a dragon, and someone just happens to lose a bet to him and thoughtfully sends him a dragon egg? Even a ten-year-old could see there is something wrong with that!'
'Do you not understand? Dracula and Dumbledore are just playing a long game! They could expose our purpose at any time! As long as we show the slightest intention of taking action, an unbreakable net will immediately fall on our heads!'
'Then… then are we completely helpless?' Quirrell looked up, his face extremely pale, his eyes full of a bottomless despair. 'In this disadvantageous situation, how can we avoid showing any signs of action without being detected?'
Voldemort's face also became extremely unsightly; he could not think of any feasible solution at the moment. It seemed that the only way to avoid suspicion was for him to personally defeat the three-headed dog in the first trial.
However, his remaining, meagre soul essence was his life-saving reliance—his last insurance for making a comeback. Using it to deal with a mere beast was truly not worth the loss. Moreover, there were many other trials set up by the other professors behind the three-headed dog. Who knew if there would be more dangers waiting for him?
So, should he give up on the Philosopher's Stone, which was so tantalisingly close at hand? Voldemort raised his head slightly; his gaze seemed to pass through the ceiling, seeing the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor…
Just then, the diary on the desk opened on its own, without any wind.
A line of elegant handwriting suddenly appeared on the blank page—
'I have a solution.'
In Hogwarts, Quirrell and Voldemort were not the only ones feeling troubled.
Snape was also feeling troubled. The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff was about to begin, and he was worried that Quirrell, controlled by the Dark Lord, would once again do something harmful to Lily's child.
Therefore, he had used any means necessary to squeeze Madam Hooch out and become the Quidditch referee for this particular match. As a referee, he could concentrate on keeping an eye on Harry and dispel any curses in time. He could also easily survey the entire Quidditch pitch and find the person who was cursing Harry.
Of course, it would be even better if he could also make trouble for the Gryffindor team, causing this team, which was currently leading in points, to lose to Hufflepuff. That way, Slytherin might still have a chance to win the championship.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were also feeling troubled because they were afraid that Harry would experience another malicious incident of being cursed.
Last time, Harry had been lucky and was saved by the large bat that Professor Dracula had conjured. This time, however, Hermione and Ron agreed that the person who had cursed Harry would likely use more vicious and powerful curses to knock him to the ground before the professors could react.
'I have to participate in the match,' Harry said firmly to Ron and Hermione, his eyes alight with determination. 'If I quit, the Slytherins will think I am scared and afraid to face any difficulties. I want to see the look on their faces when their smug smiles disappear after we win.'
'Let us just hope we do not have to carry you off the field,' Hermione said, her voice a little sad. But then her eyes suddenly lit up. 'That is right! Professor Snape is the referee this time; he will definitely protect you! He tried his best to save you from the stands last time, and I am sure he will do the same this time!'
Harry was stunned for a moment. When he thought of the extremely disgusted expression on Snape's face when he usually looked at him, he could not help but feel an extreme sense of unreality. The key was that Snape's act of casting a counter-curse for him last time did happen, and he could not refute it at all.
'I just hope he does not keep deducting points from Gryffindor like he usually does when he is the referee. I will be grateful for that,' he said stubbornly, unable to bring himself to say anything good about Snape.
In the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor's office, looking at the two grinning, red-haired twins in front of him, even Dracula became a little troubled.
'What kind of mischief are you two trying to pull now?' he asked helplessly, looking at the Weasley brothers, who were already decked out in their red Quidditch uniforms.
'Professor, today is an important battle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. If we win this one, Gryffindor will basically secure the Quidditch Cup!' George said, his tone urgent. 'But there is a problem now—Harry's old enemy, Snape, is the referee for this match. As usual, he will definitely favour Hufflepuff.'
'So we need to find a more assertive professor to suppress Snape. Also, it would be even better if this professor could bring Harry the courage to win!'
'That is right. And Harry was cursed during the last Quidditch match, and you saved him,' Fred nodded repeatedly beside him, adding after George had finished speaking, 'Professor, you do not want the little wizard you are protecting to be plotted against, do you?'
'…'
In the end, Dracula still held an umbrella and walked onto the path leading to the Quidditch pitch, falling into deep thought.
Why did that sentence just now sound so familiar?
***********
✨ 300 gems = 1 bonus chapter
✨ 500 gems = another bonus chapter
Get access to advanced chapters at my P@treon.
[email protected]/meowthtl