Chapter 55. Professor Quirrell with a Guilty Conscience
Forest hut.
Professor Kettleburn and Professor Quirrell stood four or five paces apart.
Professor Kettleburn did not look pleased.
He eyed Professor Quirrell with distaste and said, dissatisfied, "Quirinus, the smell on you is getting more and more unbearable.
It's about to overpower that blasted troll.
You really ought to go and wash properly."
Professor Quirrell gave an awkward smile, lightly rubbing the hem of his robes with his fingers, wanting to trot out the same excuse again.
"I—I'm only doing it to keep vampires from noticing me...."
Professor Kettleburn gave a cold snort and said bluntly, "How many times have I told you this?
Vampires fearing garlic is a false rumour they themselves spread, to fool those idiotic Muggles and make feeding easier.
And you actually believed it?
Were you asleep in my class back then?"
"N-no..."
Facing Professor Kettleburn's stern gaze, Professor Quirrell was tongue-tied, his two hands anxiously pinching at each other.
Just when he didn't know what to do, a shout sounded from not far off, calling for Professor Kettleburn.
Professor Quirrell quietly breathed out in relief and smiled obsequiously.
"Professor, someone's calling you...."
"I know."
Professor Kettleburn answered peevishly, turned to look, and his face bloomed into a radiant smile.
"Duncan, what took you so long?"
Professor Quirrell stealthily wiped the sweat from his brow.
Hearing Professor Kettleburn's words, he jolted upright in shock.
He looked over in disbelief and, in a questioning tone, said, "H-how is he here?
Dumbledore...."
"I asked him to come!"
Professor Kettleburn gave Professor Quirrell a sidelong glance.
"Or do you mean to leave me all alone to look after that stupid troll?
You're the one insisting on keeping it here for a week!"
"I—I'll help..."
Professor Quirrell's tone was a little lacking in confidence.
Professor Kettleburn replied, "With what little knowledge of magical creatures you've got left in that head, I'll already be delighted if you can recognise a troll!"
"B-but...."
Thinking of Dumbledore's instructions, Professor Quirrell stiffened his back a little.
"Professor Dumbledore said that no students are to know..."
"I was there when Dumbledore said that; I don't need you to remind me."
Professor Kettleburn said impatiently.
"Duncan is my assistant now, not a student.
Dumbledore agreed long ago."
"All right...."
Professor Quirrell sighed, worried by this sudden variable.
If the plan were ruined, he couldn't even imagine what terrible method the Master would use to punish him.
Online, waiting: is there any way to slice off the back of one's head in an instant and still remain perfectly fine?
While Professor Quirrell was letting his thoughts run wild, Duncan came up smiling broadly and greeted the two of them warmly.
Professor Quirrell managed a stiff smile, while Professor Kettleburn beamed and beckoned Duncan over quickly.
"Recognise the fellow inside?"
With his hand on Duncan's shoulder, Professor Kettleburn led him to the hut door and pointed to the corner of the room.
A hulking brute was chained there.
It was a full twelve feet tall, its skin dull and lustreless, its massive body like a boulder.
It had a smooth, bald little head atop it, short legs as thick as stumps, and, beneath, flat, big feet that were rough and calloused.
"Mountain troll, the largest and most dangerous kind among trolls..."
Duncan held forth like a pedant who had delved deeply in the field of trolls for years.
As the troll gave a feeble bellow, a task window popped up.
[Optional Task: The poor troll is so hungry it can barely shout.
Hurry and feed it something.]
[Task Reward: Troll favourability ×30, virtual coins ×50]
"Not bad!"
Professor Kettleburn nodded again and again, smiling as he said, "Well?
Confident you can keep an eye on it?"
"Me?"
Duncan glanced at Professor Quirrell standing to the side.
"Is that all right?"
"So long as you want to, it's all right."
Professor Kettleburn smiled.
"Willing to do me this favour?"
"Of course.
I'm your assistant now, after all.
It's only right I do these things."
Duncan nodded in reply.
"When things get busy, you can ask Hagrid to lend a hand.
That fellow's a bit reckless, but he's obedient."
"Mm-hmm, got it."
Duncan turned to look at the troll whose voice was fading.
"Professor, shouldn't we feed it?"
"Hagrid's already gone to make preparations.
I just don't know why he hasn't come back yet..."
Professor Kettleburn frowned and looked off into the distance.
If he remembered correctly, Hagrid had been gone nearly three hours.
The round trip from his hut to here should take, at most, an hour.
Even adding in the time to cut up the meat, it shouldn't take this long, should it?
"Maybe something held him up..."
Duncan replied, and he and Professor Kettleburn began chatting about other matters.
Professor Quirrell stood to one side, opening his mouth several times to try to join the conversation, but never succeeding.
He pursed his lips pitifully, quietly moved into a corner, and pretended to study the grain of a big tree.
Another half hour passed, and the troll in the hut no longer had the strength to cry out, drooping dispiritedly in the corner.
"What's going on?"
Professor Kettleburn scratched at his thinning hair and was about to go and find Hagrid.
But he had just lifted his foot when there came the rumbling of footsteps.
Hagrid's towering figure appeared from behind a tree up ahead.
Panting, Hagrid ran to the front of the hut and came to a halt.
The iron bucket in his hand swung back and forth like a playground swing.
Professor Kettleburn stepped forward to take the bucket and asked, "Hagrid, what happened?
Why are you only back now?"
"My place was burgled!"
Hagrid bellowed angrily, his voice battering everyone's eardrums.
"The meat I'd prepared yesterday is all gone.
These here were sent over by some kind house-elves from the kitchens; otherwise I wouldn't have known what to do!"
"Hm?"
Professor Kettleburn said, puzzled, "Wasn't Fang helping you keep watch?"
"That little bloke was frightened by something, I don't know what."
Hagrid said anxiously.
"When I got back, he was still hiding in the house, shaking!"
Professor Kettleburn gave a slight nod.
"Looks like a nasty culprit.
We ought to inform the others and have them be on their guard."
Duncan, standing beside them, stole a glance at the silent Professor Quirrell.
His head was bowed, his eyes cast down, playing the innocent—very much the picture of a guilty thief saying, "It wasn't me; I don't know anything."
"Stolen by Quirrell to feed the other troll, was it?
No idea where he's hidden it..."
Duncan thought to himself.
"Too right!"
Hagrid huffed and puffed, nodding vigorously, and went on complaining about that blasted thief.
Professor Quirrell edged a few more steps to the side, doing his best to reduce his presence.
Duncan controlled the iron bucket to float away and hurried to feed the troll that was on the verge of fainting from hunger.
Amazingly, once the task was completed, the favourability gained wasn't 30, but 40.
Letting it go hungry a bit longer didn't seem so bad, after all...
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