As November arrived, Will learned from Hermione that Ron had been hospitalized with a severe cold, bringing the Halloween incident to a rather dramatic conclusion.
One night, Will emerged from the Room of Requirement and, already familiar with the route, headed toward the Hogwarts kitchens for a late-night snack.
Unexpectedly, when he pushed open the kitchen door, he found a pair of red-haired twins happily gnawing on chicken legs.
Seeing Will enter, the two paused for a moment before quickly recovering.
“Hey, Will, thank you.”
“You saved our little brother.”
“Harry told us everything.”
“He and Ron were almost squashed by that Troll.”
The twins spoke one after another.
Although Will couldn’t tell them apart, he still sat down beside them and asked Anko to bring him a specially prepared late-night meal.
“What’s this?”
“Looks like a Cornish pasty. Or maybe a miniature boiled one.”
“What kind of strange food is this?”
Will pointed toward Anko.
“This is something I asked him to learn from Asia. It’s called jiaozi.”
In 1991, not many people in Britain were familiar with this kind of food.
“Want to try some?” Will pushed the bowl toward them.
The Weasley twins exchanged glances.
“Why not?”
However, after taking a bite, both of them frowned.
“Such a strange texture.”
“It’s just a boiled Cornish pasty.”
It seemed they weren’t accustomed to the taste.
Will didn’t force them.
Everyone had different preferences, just as he couldn’t understand why the British put so much malt vinegar on everything.
It certainly didn’t go well with jiaozi.
The twins soon finished their food.
Will chatted with them for a while before they left, apparently eager to go off and pull another prank.
Ignoring this small interlude, Will returned to his peaceful routine.
Every day, he focused on grinding experience, went to the kitchens for specially prepared meals, occasionally watched Harry and Malfoy clash, and sometimes found time to stroll along the Black Lake with Sylvia as its surface gradually began to freeze. Read the latest chapters at novelping.com.
Until one night, Will emerged from the Room of Requirement, rubbing his head.
He had absorbed so much knowledge that he felt slightly dizzy, and while walking through the corridor, he accidentally bumped into someone.
“Professor Snape?”
Will noticed that Snape was limping, as though his leg had been injured.
“Behrens?”
Snape frowned.
“You’re not sleeping in your dormitory in the middle of the night. Why are you wandering around the Castle?”
Uncharacteristically, he didn’t mock Will, perhaps because he simply wasn’t in the mood.
“I studied too late and lost track of time. I was just heading back.”
Will’s attitude was casual.
Snape couldn’t really do much to him anyway.
Would he deduct points?
“Professor, what happened to your leg?”
At worst, he would receive detention, which Will didn’t particularly care about.
In fact, he somewhat hoped Snape would assign him detention again so he could process Potion ingredients and gain more Potions experience.
“That’s none of your business, Behrens. You’d better go back and rest. If you fall asleep in Potions tomorrow, I’ll have you nap with the Troll.”
As Snape walked away, Will’s gaze openly followed his injured leg.
The next day, Will endured Snape’s sarcastic remarks throughout the entire lesson, but nothing else happened.
Time passed quickly, and soon it was the day of the Quidditch match.
In the stands, Will was pondering spell structures after being dragged there by Sylvia.
He had no real interest in sports.
Strictly speaking, Will didn’t particularly like ball games.
So he simply picked up a copy of Hogwarts Junior Potion Analysis, Second-Year Edition.
He had recently been going to Snape for additional Potions practice, so reading ahead wouldn’t hurt.
Since Will had never shown much enthusiasm for Flying Class or any particular flying talent, Slytherin hadn’t allowed him to join the Quidditch team early like Harry.
Of course, Will was perfectly happy about that.
Sylvia, however, was quite enthusiastic.
The two sat high in the Slytherin stands as the cold wind constantly swept across them.
Will had to cast a spell to block the wind.
Then again, considering British football hooligans, perhaps this entire country was simply full of lunatics.
“Will, Will!”
Sylvia tugged on Will’s sleeve excitedly.
“Look, Gryffindor’s Seeker is Harry Potter!”
The Gryffindor team hadn’t publicly announced Harry’s position.
He was their secret weapon, so his appearance on the field immediately surprised the students.
Will closed the book in his hands and said nonchalantly, “There are only two possibilities for Harry to be playing. Either the entire Gryffindor team has Troll brains, or Harry Potter is a genius.”
Sylvia nodded seriously.
“No wonder Slytherin has won the House Cup for seven years. It turns out Gryffindor really does have Troll brains.”
Will was utterly dumbfounded and nearly dropped the book in his hands.
“Big sister, how exactly did you arrive at that conclusion?”
Soon, Harry’s flying skills were on full display, and even Sylvia had to admit that Harry Potter truly had an extraordinary talent for flying.
However, Harry quickly ran into trouble.
His broomstick suddenly began twisting and rolling uncontrollably, and he could barely keep himself from falling.
Sylvia frowned.
“What is Potter doing?”
Suddenly, the broom twisted violently again, throwing Harry off.
He was left hanging in midair, clinging to the broomstick with one hand.
Everyone noticed something was wrong with Harry, and many of the spectators lost interest in the match, turning their attention toward him instead.
Will glanced toward the central stands and saw Quirrell muttering incantations.
He wasn’t particularly worried about Harry.
For one thing, the two of them were only acquaintances.
At most, Will would pay a little attention because Harry Potter was connected to Lord Voldemort’s eventual return.
More importantly, Dumbledore was right there watching.
Would he really allow anything to happen to Harry?
Of course not.
Will looked toward Dumbledore.
There wasn’t even a trace of worry on the old wizard’s long-bearded face, which confirmed that he had already prepared a countermeasure.
Will couldn’t help wondering what Voldemort was thinking by trying to interfere with Harry under these circumstances.
Had that Horcrux finally turned him into an idiot?
Will felt that the path of creating Horcruxes was simply a bottomless pit.