Harry only lifted his head for a second before lowering it again.
Go tell Dumbledore?
Almost instantly, Harry gave up on that idea.
Right now, Voldemort was barely clinging to life, clinging to the back of someone's head, only surviving by drinking unicorn blood…
If he couldn't even defeat Voldemort in this state, all the training from Cassandra and Vivi a hundred years ago would have been for nothing. He might as well drop out and go to Stone Wall Middle School to live honestly as a Muggle.
But...
Harry decided to wait a little longer, until Quirrell went to the fourth floor, to where Fluffy was guarding the Magic Stone, before taking action.
That way, he'd also have a legitimate reason to borrow the Magic Stone for a bit.
If he used some Minor Evil Curse in school, right in front of his classmates—even if it didn't really hurt anyone—it would still be pretty scary.
He pushed this thought down and kept his head down, listening to Quirrell's lecture up front.
When he got back to the common room that evening, Ron asked quietly, "What's up, mate? Saw you actually paying attention in class today—you're not usually like that."
He wasn't wrong. After all, Quirrell's lessons were always stuttering and mumbling, basically pointless, and great for hypnosis.
Not just Gryffindor—even Ravenclaw students couldn't get interested in class. Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic were both written off as equally useless.
"Quirrell's got a problem." Harry sat on the sofa and told Ron, "I just found out myself."
"Really?" Hermione scooted over, lowering her voice. "No wonder he's been on leave so long. Harry, what did you find out?"
"Do you remember when I said before, that Voldemort was hiding in Hogwarts?" Harry asked Hermione.
Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "Um, I remember, but what's that got to do with Quirrell?"
"The one who attacked Miss Pabi in the Forbidden Forest was Voldemort. When I drove him off, I accidentally left a mark on him. Today in class, I felt that same little mark on Quirrell." Harry explained, "Which means..."
"Which means, Quirrell is Voldemort—Voldemort is Quirrell!" Ron declared, pounding his fist on his palm.
"No, impossible!" Hermione frowned, one hand supporting her elbow, the other cupping her chin. "Voldemort attacking Miss Pabi means he's extremely weak right now, but Quirrell just looks a bit pale, not totally drained... Wait—I've got it!"
Hermione smacked the table, excited. "I've got it! That's why Quirrell always wears that huge turban. If the mark Harry felt isn't wrong, then Voldemort must be hiding under Quirrell's turban!"
"Uh..." Seamus raised his hand first. "No way, right? I mean, come on, You-Know-Who is a powerful Dark Wizard—how could he stick to the back of someone's head like a parasite, wrapped in a scarf, reeking of garlic? That can't be right, can it?"
"Someone that evil—even going so far as to attack a unicorn—must be the kind who'll do anything to get what he wants, even throw away his pride." Hermione said firmly, "If that's the case, then the Magic Stone is in danger. I think we should tell Principal Dumbledore!"
With that, Hermione rushed out of the common room.
"She really is impatient, isn't she?" Ron raised an eyebrow helplessly.
Soon, Hermione rushed back again.
"Bad news, Harry!" Hermione hissed, "I just went to find Professor McGonagall, but she said Principal Dumbledore just got a letter from the Ministry of Magic and already left for the Ministry!"
"Didn't you tell Professor McGonagall about Quirrell?" Ron asked.
"Professor McGonagall didn't believe me. She told me not to suspect our own teachers and that talking like that isn't good for the school's unity." Hermione said, covering her face. She really had been freaking out just now.
Harry felt something was off. Logically speaking, as the greatest White Wizard right now, there's no way he hadn't noticed anything about Quirrell.
What struck him as strangest was—why did Professor Dumbledore receive a Ministry of Magic letter right after Quirrell returned to school?
Could it be… a trick by Quirrell or Voldemort? To lure Dumbledore out of the school, so they'd be free to act?
"We can't just wait around anymore," Harry stood up, feeling for his magic wand hidden in his clothes, and said to Ron, "I have to stop their plan!"
He started walking toward the exit as he spoke.
"Wait! Harry!"
Harry turned back and saw Ron catching up.
"You'll need some backup, right?" Ron said. "Let me come with you."
"I'm coming too." "Me too." The other three spoke up as well.
"Just so you all understand—this isn't Room of Requirement duel practice." Harry gave them a look. "We'll be facing the scariest Dark Wizard of the century, Voldemort."
"I know." Ron said seriously. "But we're friends—I'm not just going to stand by and watch you face danger alone!"
"Ron." Harry patted Ron on the shoulder. "I appreciate it, but Voldemort isn't first-year trouble…"
"I know, Harry."
When he heard the name Voldemort, Ron's body trembled for a split second, but he quickly steadied himself and spoke firmly to Harry, "Harry, remember when you talked to me about Wizard Dueling? I'm your second—if you go down, I'll take over."
Hermione said, "Yeah, Harry, Dumbledore had Hagrid put Fluffy on the fourth floor. There's gotta be more than one barrier. With us, you'll get through them faster…"
"Wait." Harry stopped them.
Then he returned to the dorm, rummaged through his cabinet, and took out his prized Blessing Potion—a gift from Snape at Christmas.
When he returned to the common room, the four friends were all looking at him expectantly.
"If any of you regret it now and want to back out, there's still time," Harry said seriously, standing before them. "Because in a minute we'll be facing Voldemort. It's perfectly normal to be scared."
"Vo—You-Know-Who's followers tortured my parents." Neville stammered, but straightened his back. "So, even if it's just for them, I can't back down!"
"We're Gryffindor." Ron thumped his chest. "We've got courage buried deep in our hearts. It's our bravery and spirit that make our house great!"