"Look! Our future star is here!" Fred's shout pulled Ron out of his strange mood. He glanced up and saw Dana walking into the Great Hall.
The Gryffindor first-years cheered. It seemed most people already knew the result of yesterday's match.
From being a graduate of Azkaban—feared by all—to becoming a Quidditch star loved by everyone, Dana's transformation showed the power of the Quidditch league. It was as though one match had changed everything.
Smiling, Dana waved at the cheering crowd and took his usual seat at the end of the Gryffindor long table. Fred and George swooped in, ruffling his messy white hair until it stood on end.
"You're amazing, Dana! You pulled something big off without even saying a word!" Fred exclaimed.
"It's a pity your performance can't earn Gryffindor any points," George added. "If it could, you deserve a hundred!"
"A hundred points!" Fred laughed. "That's how many times we've gotten caught sneaking out at night!"
"Five seconds! Merlin's beard, Dana, you're the strongest Seeker I've ever seen!" George chimed in.
Dana shook his head and said quietly, "George, Merlin doesn't have a beard anymore."
"What? What did you say?" George blinked.
"Nothing," Dana replied softly. "I was just lucky."
Fred patted him hard on the back. "Don't sell yourself short. I've never seen anyone catch the Golden Snitch in five seconds 'just by luck'!"
George nodded. "Exactly. Roderick Plumpton's record was the fluke—he leaned in to kiss his girlfriend, and the Snitch flew right between their mouths!"
"What a half-true story coming from George," Dana thought. He laughed with the twins for a moment, then said, "Fred, George, you two are blocking my view. We have Potion class this morning—you don't want Snape deducting points because I'm late, do you?"
The twins laughed and released him—but Dana still couldn't eat properly. Overnight, he had gone from being avoided to being popular. Fellow students now sought him out.
Curiously, Harry Potter seemed to be avoiding him deliberately.
Severus Snape looked pleased. Seeing Harry choose a front-row seat far from Dana, Snape allowed himself a faint sneer. He also didn't make things difficult for Harry in class—a stark contrast that must have made Harry think that keeping his distance from Dana would improve his own luck.
Dana didn't care. His only true friends at Hogwarts were the twins. Harry could choose friendship or not—it made no difference to Dana.
Hogwarts was the safest place in the British Wizarding World for him. With his combat skill worth seven Galleons, and Quirrell weakened, Dana felt confident even against Voldemort. If anything happened, Dumbledore would be there.
When Potion class ended, a wave of first-years rushed out toward the Great Hall. Dana walked through the castle corridor, sunlight streaming through tall windows to cast half-light, half-shadow on the portraits. Some brightened; others cowered.
"Mr. Emrys!"
A voice called his name. Dana turned and saw Professor Quirinus Quirrell standing in a corner, an anxious smile on his face.
Quirrell looked worse than in September. Pale and covered in cold sweat, the garlic perfume no longer masked his stench.
"Professor Quirrell, hello."
Dana spoke with neither humility nor arrogance, but couldn't help holding his breath.
"Dana," Quirrell said, "I'd like to talk with you. Could you come to my office?"
"Of course, Professor."
This was unexpected—nothing like this happened in the original story. Quirrell had no academic reason to summon him, so Dana suspected someone else was behind it.
But Dana wasn't afraid.
Quirrell's body, possibly possessed by the Dark Lord, was weak. Dana was confident he could hold him off long enough for Dumbledore to arrive.
They entered Quirrell's office, and Dana sat on the sofa as asked.
"Please, sit," Quirrell said. Dana complied.
Quirrell placed himself behind the desk. "Dana." He paused. "Your Defense Against the Dark Arts essays have been outstanding. I didn't call you here for that."
Dana listened, head tilted slightly.
Quirrell raised an eyebrow. "Dana, I'm concerned about you."
"Concerned? About what, Professor?"
"Your career as a professional Quidditch player—I'm afraid it may harm you."
Dana frowned. "I don't understand."
Quirrell sighed. "Because of your background—child—you know what I mean—the students have always excluded you. They've passed cold comments. No matter how well you perform, they won't change their minds."
"That's true. But I still don't understand."
Quirrell leaned forward, voice low. "As a professor here, I face prejudice every day. They mock me: the stammering Professor Quirrell, the cowardly Professor Quirrell. They never hear my side. Prejudice is stubborn."
He paused, making sure Dana was following.
"Now that you've become a pro and dazzled them, they talk to you. They approach you because of your achievements—but it's a façade."
Dana nodded, understanding.
"They don't accept you." Quirrell continued. "They'll talk to you while the spotlight is on, but the prejudice remains. And one day—when your achievements don't dazzle them—they'll leave you exposed and hurt."
Dana sat quietly. He'd already felt this. The Azkaban label would follow him forever. "Even if he saved the world, who could trust him? He spent four years locked away—anyone could betray us!"
He spoke his thoughts. "You're right, Professor. I'll be cautious. Thank you for the warning."
Quirrell nodded, softened. "Good. I truly hope you can overcome this prejudice. At Hogwarts, and beyond."
End of Chapter 50
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