Chapter 31 — Quirrell Clears His Name
Quirrell tightly closed his eyes, his expression resolute and fearless, and grabbed the corner of the purple scarf. Then, with a sudden tug—
The entire scarf was ripped off and tossed onto the floor with a swish.
Quirrell's bare head was exposed. It looked surprisingly small, completely bald, not a single hair in sight.
Dracula looked at his egg-like bald head, frowned with disgust, and commanded:
"Stop playing games. Turn your body around."
Quirrell slowly turned, showing the back of his head to the professors.
The professors were stunned.
Professor Sprout quickly covered her eyes with a swift motion, leaving a clear red imprint on her forehead; Snape's mouth and eyes twitched, his facial features contorted entirely; Flitwick, who was eating at the time, spat out his food immediately upon seeing the back of Quirrell's head…
Dracula was the most direct—disgusted, he raised his hand and slapped Quirrell's head in midair. Quirrell spun several times from the blow, then crashed heavily onto the floor, leaving a large dent, his head perfectly fitting into the groove in the floorboards.
Behind Quirrell's head were three extremely gruesome scars—two above, one below—that together formed an ugly, sinister human face.
The grotesque face horrified the professors so much that they wouldn't want to eat for days.
…
Despite their reluctance to believe it, as the fair and impartial Vice Principal of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall had to admit that, ugly as Quirrell's scars were, there was nothing else hidden beneath the scarf.
Now, the real villains seemed to be the professors themselves.
They resembled a group of ruthless, evil bullies, cornering the weak Quirrell and stripping away his last piece of covering…
"Are… you satisfied now?" Quirrell's head still in the floor, he sobbed pitifully, "I… I've always used my scarf to cover… these ugly scars because I… I was afraid… afraid that you or the students would despise me. If… if laughing at me makes you happy, then… I'll accept it…"
Hearing Quirrell's pitiful words, Professors McGonagall and Sprout were deeply moved.
"Oh, poor Assistant Quirrell, it's our fault for exposing your wounds," Sprout said with sympathy.
"Rest assured, Quirinus, Hogwarts will never wrong a good person!" McGonagall added to console him.
After many thanks, Quirrell carefully pulled his head out from the floor, covered his scalp with his hand, and limped out of the faculty lounge.
After Quirrell left, Snape looked at McGonagall and Sprout with an unfriendly expression.
"Ladies, because of your mercy, we've lost our last clue," he said deliberately, each word seeming squeezed painfully from his teeth.
"Oh, don't be like that, Severus." Seeing the women's displeased expressions, Flitwick quickly climbed onto the table, tiptoeing to block their view. "Minerva and Pomona just don't want to accuse a good man. I think Assistant Quirrell does look pitiful—why not observe him a bit longer?"
"Women's mercy," Snape snorted.
Then, with a flick of his long cloak, he strode out of the lounge like a giant bat, leaving no trace of warmth.
"Severus really has no manners," McGonagall fumed, almost chasing after him to show him what it means for women to be half the sky!
Good-natured Sprout quickly grabbed McGonagall's arm. "Minerva, let it go, it's not necessary. You know Severus has always been like this…"
Because of this unpleasant incident, the professors left in a sour mood.
Dracula, however, stayed until the end.
He walked slowly to the edge of the dent in the floor, gazing at the purple scarf Quirrell had forgotten to take, lost in thought.
A faint trace of cheap perfume still lingered on the scarf, though very lightly—detectable only by a vampire's acute sense of smell.
Dracula hadn't noticed it before. Only now did he suddenly remember that he hadn't smelled the strong perfume on Quirrell for some time. This might explain why the professors hadn't been overly hostile toward Quirrell today.
Had Quirrell come in with his usual overpowering scent, not only would McGonagall and Sprout likely not feel pity, they might have rushed to kick this walking biohazard back to his office themselves!
Recalling all of Quirrell's strange behaviors, Dracula gradually pieced together a vague truth.
From the very first meeting, Quirrell had been masking another kind of scent with various strong odors.
At first, it was the smell of garlic. Dracula detested it and ordered Quirrell to remove it.
Later, Quirrell switched to the stench of a giant's unwashed socks and toilet odor, centuries old. This smell could make anyone with normal olfaction vomit, yet Quirrell could carry it all day and live normally—a true brave soul in that respect.
Finally, Quirrell removed even the giant's stench, leaving only a heavy, cheap perfume scent.
Since spraying perfume was relatively normal, Hogwarts didn't forbid it, and Quirrell had successfully fooled everyone, carrying the charade for most of the semester.
As Christmas approached, the professors were overwhelmed with their own work and no one paid much attention to the perfume-scented man.
Dracula continued to reflect.
It seemed that it was just before Harry's first Quidditch match that the perfume on Quirrell's body began to fade.
At that thought, Dracula took out Hogwarts' deed from his pocket and looked toward a small room, heavily shielded by advanced protective spells, impervious to the deed's surveillance.
It was Quirrell's office.
"Interesting."
A subtle smirk appeared at Dracula's lips as he stepped away and vanished.
…
Inside Quirrell's office, the bald man knelt respectfully, holding a diary on the desk in front of him with both hands.
"I've finally cleared my name, Master!" he said, trembling with excitement. "Master, rest assured, I will help you get the Philosopher's Stone!"
A misty, black-haired boy's shadow quietly appeared above the diary.
He nodded slowly at Quirrell, a faint sinister smile appearing on his face.