Chapter 67. An Unexpected Fight
Adrian Wesson's guess was right.
Sure enough, halfway through the feast, Quirrell came crashing into the Great Hall, crying out in terror: "Troll! In the dungeons!"
No sooner had he said it than he pitched forward onto the floor.
The Hall erupted at once, students' voices rising in a jumble.
"Silence!" Dumbledore rose at once, touched his wand to his throat, and repeated in a ringing voice, "Silence!"
Only then did the students gradually quiet down.
Professor Flitwick froze for a few seconds at the sight, then let out a slow sigh and said to Adrian beside him, "I take back what I said earlier—Quirrell really ought to be steadier… in any case, a Hogwarts professor fainting at the sight of a troll… this is simply disgraceful."
At that moment, Adrian suddenly noticed Snape slipping quietly away from the table and heading outside.
"Prefects!" Dumbledore said coolly. "Lead your Houses back to the dormitories!"
The students moved at once.
In fact, a single troll was not so frightening; never mind the professors—quite a few upper-year students could handle it as well. But for the sake of the first-years' lives, sending everyone back to the dormitories was the right choice.
Amid the chaos, Adrian's eyes swept along the Gryffindor table, searching for Hermione.
After all, in the original course of events, this was where the friendship of the three began; Hermione ought to be in the girls' bathroom off the dungeons right now, waiting to be rescued by Harry and Ron.
Mm. Hermione wasn't here—so it looked like the plot was proceeding normally.
When all the students had left the Hall, Dumbledore ordered the staff table: "All professors, to the dungeons—find the troll."
The professors moved at once; Adrian also rose and followed the others towards the dungeons.
Upon reaching the staircase down to the dungeons, Professor McGonagall suggested, "Let us split up, everyone—that will be quicker. If you can, ask the portraits on the walls for the troll's whereabouts; some portrait is bound to have seen it."
Dumbledore nodded his agreement. "A good idea."
"Ah, right," Dumbledore seemed to think of something, turned to Adrian, and said, "Professor Wesson, might I trouble you to return to the Great Hall? See to Professor Quirrell—we can't leave him lying alone on a cold stone floor."
Adrian, of course, agreed; Harry and the others' lives needed no intervention from him—with Dumbledore here, that would hardly be a problem.
He nodded and replied, "Of course, Professor Dumbledore. I'll look after Professor Quirrell."
However, when Adrian returned to the Hall, he discovered that Quirrell had vanished.
As expected, Adrian sighed: Quirrell must be on his way to the room on the fourth floor by now.
That was precisely the goal of the chaos he had created—to draw all the professors away, then take advantage of the confusion to try to steal the Philosopher's Stone.
Adrian set off for the fourth floor at once.
Dumbledore had explicitly indicated that he was to keep an eye on Quirrell; he couldn't just slack off. Besides, if anything unexpected happened and Quirrell actually got his hands on the Stone, that would be troublesome. Though Adrian felt the chance of that happening was virtually zero.
The fourth-floor corridor was deathly quiet. Only the torches on the walls gave off a faint light, throwing Adrian's hastening shadow across the stone.
Just as he was about to reach the entrance to the off-limits corridor, he suddenly heard a low tread of footsteps from behind.
Adrian stopped at once, cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, then slipped behind a suit of armour, watching warily in the direction of the sound.
A tall figure stepped out of the darkness, a sweep of black robes throwing a wide shadow across the wall.
It was Snape!
Adrian's mind stirred. So he was here for Quirrell as well.
Snape's expression was severe; his eyes swept keenly about, as if searching for something. He already had his wand in hand, evidently ready to cast at any moment.
As he passed the armour where Adrian was concealed, Snape's footsteps suddenly halted.
"Come out," he said icily in Adrian's direction. "A big rat."
Adrian knew he had been discovered.
He sighed, lifted the Disillusionment Charm, and stepped out from behind the armour.
In truth, he wasn't doing anything sneaky at all; there was no need to be hiding here in the first place.
"It's me, Professor Snape," Adrian said coolly, wand in hand but not pointed at Snape.
Snape's brow creased slightly; a flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by indifference. "Ah… looks like I was right, Professor Wesson. What are you doing here?"
Adrian shrugged, his tone light. "The same as you."
At Adrian's words, Snape let out a short laugh.
"The same… is it?" He raised his wand, eyes fixed on Adrian like a hawk. "I'm no thief."
"?"
Adrian was taken aback.
Did Snape think he was here to steal the Stone?
That was quite a misunderstanding.
Before Adrian could explain, Snape moved.
"Expelliarmus!"
With a flick of his wand, a red jet of light shot straight at Adrian.
Adrian's response was just as swift; a twist of the wrist, and he knocked Snape's spell neatly aside. The red light skimmed past his shoulder, struck the wall, and burst with a soft crack.
"Professor Snape," Adrian said evenly, though his eyes had grown more guarded, "I think there's been a misunderstanding between us. I'm not your enemy. Let me explain."
Snape kept his wand lowered yet continued to circle, never taking his eyes off Adrian. "Ah… a misunderstanding, is it? Your behaviour hardly looks like you're clearing one up."
Seeing that Snape looked like he wouldn't believe a word he said, Adrian sighed again.
Why just won't this man listen!
If that's the case—
Then…
We'll have to fight first.
Although Snape hadn't levelled his wand at him and kept circling, Adrian knew full well that Snape was on the highest alert. At the slightest move, a spell from Snape might well be flying at his face.
"Incarcerous!"
Adrian struck first. Several cords shot from the tip of his wand like nimble vipers, darting to coil around Snape.
Snape reacted quickly, swept his wand, and knocked aside several of the cords, but one he missed wound round his left arm.
"Sectumsempra!"
A flash of silver—at once, the cord coiled upon him was sliced into several pieces.
"Hmph," Snape sneered, a glint of disdain in his eyes. "Professor Wesson, is this your explanation? Proving a 'misunderstanding' with those feeble spells of yours?"
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