"Mr. Barrow."
Approaching the Slytherin common room, John lifted the Disillusionment Charm.
However, John wasn't embarrassed about being caught sneaking out at night. Instead, he was curious about what the Bloody Baron was doing there.
Gazing into the night, the Bloody Barrow had a thoughtful look in his eyes.
"It's you, the Slytherin who sneaks out."
The Bloody Baron was a terrifying ghost with hollow eyes, a gaunt face, and a robe stained with silver bloodstains.
Peeves feared nothing except this ghost, to the extent that he would tremble at the mere mention of the Baron's name.
John could tell that the bloodstains on the Baron's robes were part of a past story. Though curious, he had no intention of reopening old wounds.
It seemed the Bloody Baron knew someone was sneaking out regularly, just not who it was.
John nodded, and the Bloody Baron scrutinized him with a peculiar expression.
After all, seeing a wizard carrying a greatsword would be unusual for anyone. The Bloody Baron asked, "What are you doing out there?"
"Training. I feel I need to work harder to be worthy of Slytherin."
Compliments are always welcome, and John's words made the Bloody Baron shake his head. "You're very diligent, but you seem more like a..."
Gryffindor.
He didn't finish his sentence, but it was evident.
The Bloody Baron lived during the era of the four founders. Due to his unrequited love for Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena Ravenclaw, he killed her. Overcome with grief and guilt, he chose to end his own life.
Thus, he had seen Godric Gryffindor, a man obsessed with swordsmanship and combat, who had a goblin-made silver sword crafted especially for him.
The sword was so perfect that it sparked goblin envy, leading to a confrontation with Godric Gryffindor.
The outcome was clear: although goblins claimed Gryffindor stole their sword, none dared to come to Hogwarts to reclaim it.
Compared to Salazar Slytherin, John was the spitting image of a young Godric Gryffindor.
Merlin's beard.
Who knew if that old hat was broken, sending a Gryffindor lookalike to Slytherin.
"I'm here to tell you that it's dangerous out there at night. Be careful."
Drawing back his thoughts, the Bloody Baron hadn't spoken this much in a long time.
A thought crossed John's mind—Quirrell.
According to the Marauder's Map, Quirrell often left Hogwarts.
The Bloody Baron was the most unique of the house ghosts, possessing the ability to turn invisible.
He must have discovered something and came to warn him.
"I understand, Mr. Baron. I'll be careful."
Accepting the ghost's goodwill, John hurried back to his room and eagerly pulled out the Marauder's Map.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"
The map of Hogwarts appeared on the parchment. Aside from professors like Snape who patrolled to catch students, John spotted Quirrell's name.
Quirrell's name maneuvered around patrolling professors and Filch, heading out of the castle.
"Where is he going?"
John was puzzled. Why would Quirrell leave the castle in the middle of the night?
Unfortunately, the map's range was limited to Hogwarts' grounds, unable to show locations like the Forbidden Forest.
"Could he be going to the Forbidden Forest?"
After some thought, John concluded that if Quirrell wasn't leaving Hogwarts, he must be heading to the Forbidden Forest.
The Forbidden Forest housed many magical creatures, including werewolves, centaurs, and even pure unicorns.
"The Bloody Baron mentioned danger. Could he mean Voldemort?"
Thinking of Voldemort heightened John's sense of danger.
Unlike the first Dark Lord, whose influence spread across Europe, Voldemort had no boundaries.
For his own benefit, Voldemort knew no shame or honor, feeling no guilt about casting the Killing Curse on infants.
If Voldemort had the grandeur of the first Dark Lord, John wouldn't be as fearful in Hogwarts.
"No, I need to get stronger!"
Placing a blindfold over Tom's eyes, John didn't want to rely on a prophecy that might or might not come true.
Who knew if the prophecy was genuine? After all, Hogwarts wasn't devoid of death.
...
The sweet aroma of roasted pumpkin filled the corridor, while pairs of students listened to Professor Flitwick's instructions on the Levitation Charm in class.
John could clearly see Goyle and Crabbe's throats swallowing hungrily. He was paired with Malfoy, which felt like an unfortunate coincidence.
This made Malfoy constantly on edge, as if he feared John might suddenly jab his wand into his eye.
Standing on a makeshift pedestal of stacked books, Professor Flitwick's high-pitched voice guided the students.
"Now, remember the delicate wrist movement we've been practicing!"
"A swish and flick, remember, a swish and flick. And pronounce the spell correctly, don't forget Baruffio the wizard…"
As the head of Ravenclaw and the Charms professor, Professor Flitwick was undoubtedly exceptional.
He wished he could break down a spell into tiny pieces and feed it to the students bit by bit—a truly excellent teacher.
Rumor had it that in his youth, Professor Flitwick had won a dueling championship, a testament to his prowess.
After Professor Flitwick finished explaining the key points, the students began to practice.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Malfoy's wand nearly poked John's face, yet the feather on the table remained motionless. John was exasperated.
He calmly and quietly reassured, "Malfoy, if you poke my hand one more time, I'll stick my wand in your ear."
The threat made Malfoy stiffen, but his pureblood pride wouldn't let him bow to a Mudblood. He retorted, "If you're so good, you do it."
"Sorry, but I really can."
John shrugged, elegantly took out his wand, and pointed it at the feather on the table.
With a swish and flick of his wrist, "Wingardium Leviosa."
Under everyone's watchful eyes, the feather floated into the air.
Following John's wand's guidance, the feather drifted towards Professor Flitwick, landing gently and precisely in his hand.
"Wonderful—!"
Professor Flitwick clapped his hands excitedly, his voice even higher pitched, "Look at how elegantly and perfectly Wick has succeeded. Ten points to Slytherin!"
On the Gryffindor side, Hermione had been confident about the Levitation Charm, having practiced it thoroughly.
She was ready to perform it flawlessly but was frustrated by Ron's clumsy waving. Just as she was about to cast the spell correctly, John had already succeeded.
Seeing John's precise control of the feather, Hermione felt a bit disheartened, and her frustration found a perfect target in Ron.
Unfortunately for Ron, Hermione's emotional coaching left him in a terrible mood.
After class, in the crowded corridor,
Ron complained to Harry, "No wonder nobody can stand her; she's an absolute nightmare."
Hermione heard this and felt even more hurt. She had been trying to help Ron, only to be resented.
Heartbroken, she didn't wait for John and wanted to find a place to cry.
Weaving through the crowd, she bumped into Harry.
Seeing her tears, Harry, who had changed his opinion of Hermione, thought Ron's words were too harsh.
"I think she heard you," he said.
Ron saw Hermione's distressed face, and his pride as a young boy made him retort, "So what? She probably noticed she doesn't have any friends."
"Ron, you shouldn't have said that," Harry said seriously.
With his friend speaking up, Ron could only hang his head and mutter, "Well, actually she does have a friend. John is her friend."