Harry certainly wouldn't go straight back to the Gryffindor dormitory. He first made his way to the abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, checked Fluffy's whereabouts, and only then, satisfied, headed back.
Wednesday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was as dull and boring as ever. The only new entertainment was Professor Quirrell now picking on Gryffindor, too.
Maybe it was revenge for being hit in the head with a snowball before Christmas break, or perhaps it was payback for the pain of getting bitten by that Biting Kale. Anyway, Professor Quirrell looked at Harry like he'd gone totally off the rails.
"What did Harry do to him?" Hermione whispered. "Look at Quirrell—my god, I swear even Snape wouldn't look at him like that."
"Oh, it's nothing much," Ron replied. "Harry and Quirrell just had a little misunderstanding."
"What misunderstanding?" Hermione lowered her voice.
"He just accidentally threw that Biting Kale at the back of his head, that's all."
Ron said this totally casually. He grabbed a drumstick off the table, his eyes lighting up as he licked his lips and muttered like Gollum, "My precious!"
Hearing Ron's words, Hermione was stunned.
"You call that a little misunderstanding?"
"Otherwise?" Ron took a big bite of drumstick, his brows relaxing in satisfaction as he looked thoroughly content. "Harry didn't do it on purpose, and besides, Quirrell didn't need something as serious as a trip to Madam Pomfrey."
"Oh, come on." Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "We used to have Professor Snape, now there's Quirrell too—at this rate, the House Cup…"
"Relax. We're not winning the House Cup anyway. You can't really expect Professor Snape not to dock our points just because he likes picking on us, can you?" Ron seemed pretty chill about it; he turned and said to Seamus and Neville, "Hey, Seamus, Neville, tonight's your official initiation into the Dueling Wand."
This was Harry's idea. Since there was Astronomy at eleven tonight, they'd have just enough time after detention and before class to reasonably recruit two new friends into the Dueling Wand.
"Guess I'll get to test you out tonight, Ron," Seamus said, looking eager.
"Sure… Ah, remember to bring Harry two sandwiches—he's still serving detention in Professor Snape's office," Ron suddenly remembered his friend hadn't eaten and smoothly changed the topic.
He definitely didn't want Seamus's magic spell blowing him up. Better wait until he'd learned the Armor Protection spell before doing live practice with Seamus.
"Don't just bring sandwiches—grab something else, too," Hermione reminded. "The caramel pudding's great today, and… bring some fruit. You have to eat balanced."
While the gang was busy working out Harry's balanced diet, Harry was still in Snape's underground office, getting one-on-one lessons from the master himself.
Tonight's assignment was Thunder Brew again. Only this time, it was Harry making the potion.
Watching Harry's skilled hands, Snape's furrowed brows gradually relaxed, and the corners of his downturned mouth curled up.
This kid… he really does resemble his mother. He's inherited her Magic Potion talent, too.
Harry didn't notice Snape's changing expression. Half his mind was focused on the Thunder Brew; the other half was plotting how to mess with Quirrell.
He was more and more convinced that something unspeakable was lurking behind Quirrell's head.
He'd even secretly tried using Revelio in class, but found that Quirrell's big turban was protected by some mysterious force—he couldn't see a thing.
"So hungry… so hungry… it's been so long…"
Harry's stomach grumbled loudly.
Huh? He scratched his head. Did he just hear something?
Of course Snape heard Harry's rumbling stomach, too. He just grunted and drawled, "At your age, even a Little Giant needs to grow. Your sensible old professor won't keep you too long. There's no need to protest so dramatically."
Harry wasn't sure how to explain, so he didn't. He picked up the container and started bottling the finished Thunder Brew.
"Hungry… blood… kill!"
A cold voice rang out. Harry snapped his head up—the sound seemed to come from directly above.
"Professor, did you just hear something?" Harry looked at Snape. "I think I heard a voice above me, cold as ice, mumbling about blood and killing?"
Snape stared at Harry, his pitch-black eyes utterly emotionless.
For a long moment, he finally said slowly, "Class dismissed."
"Thank you, Professor." Harry rushed to his feet, grabbed the bottled Thunder Brew with hands not exactly clean, and started to leave.
"Stop." Snape called him back. When Harry turned around, Snape held out his hand.
Helpless, Harry handed the Thunder Brew to him. C'mon… so stingy.
"Hmph," Snape snorted, took the Thunder Brew, and, all business, turned and set it in the cabinet.
"Rip you… slay you…"
The cold voice rang out again. This time, Harry heard it clearly—it was right above him!
"Professor, are you sure you didn't hear anything?" Harry checked again with Snape.
Snape curled his lip, icy as ever: "I believe I've already dismissed you, Mr. Potter. No need to come up with excuses just to hint to me."
Harry could only shrug, said goodbye, and pushed open the door to leave the underground office.
As soon as he stepped out, he pressed his ear to the wall, trying to catch that strange voice again.
Just as he guessed, the voice rang out once more.
"Kill… time to kill…"
The voice faded, as if something was slithering by.
Harry followed the sound's direction, heading up the stairs toward the entrance hall.
The voice finally vanished. Harry realized he'd stepped into a puddle.
He looked down and moved his foot out of the water. Reflected in the puddle was a bright, flickering flame—and something hanging next to it.
Harry glanced up, squinting. Hanging above was a cat.
It was Mrs. Loli—Fitch's cat.
She no longer prowled the halls for students on Fitch's behalf, but hung stiffly beside the torch, her mouth frozen in a wide snarl.
"Oh my god, what are you doing, Potter?"
Fitch appeared out of nowhere, stumbling as he rushed over to Mrs. Loli. He reached up with helpless arms, jumped twice, and still couldn't get to his cat.
Meanwhile, a clamor broke out as the students finished dinner and walked out from the Great Hall, gathering in the entrance hall.
Fitch ignored the students behind him, unleashing all his fury on Harry.
"It was you! YOU! You killed Mrs. Loli!" he screamed. "I'll—I'll kill you!"
He yelled and lunged at Harry, hands outstretched.
Harry sneered, whipped out his Magic Wand, and aimed it at the charging Fitch.
He was starving, had just been falsely accused, and his temper flared up instantly.
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