Vincent stood at the landing of a staircase in confusion, gazing at Professor Quirrell’s receding back, his brow slightly furrowed.
Professor Quirrell’s words from moments ago echoed in his mind without yielding the answer he craved.
The dark-haired boy tightened his robes.
The dark fabric appeared somber in the dim light.
His round fingers unconsciously rubbed the hem of his robe as his mind raced.
That fleeting change in Quirrell’s expression—a barely perceptible flicker of terror in his eyes, quickly masked—the fear of the Unforgivable Curses was not the typical dread one felt toward a deadly weapon.
It was as if he had actually suffered one.
An Unforgivable Curse…
Judging from Quirrell’s reaction when the Imperius Curse was mentioned, he wasn’t under its control; his mind wasn’t being manipulated by someone else.
Yet his reaction to the Unforgivable Curses had been immense.
The Killing Curse was out of the question, leaving only Crucio.
Had he suffered Crucio?
That certainly fit the classic image of the ruthless Dark Lord from the stories.
Vincent’s gaze shifted back and forth between the top and bottom of the staircase, indecision gripping his heart.
Should he head down to keep digging for Quirrell’s flaws, or return to the Ravenclaw common room to get a good rest?
He wouldn’t find anything useful today anyway.
Students brushed past him in a hurry, footsteps and whispered chatter intertwining.
Vincent, however, felt as though he were standing in another dimension.
Entirely consumed by his thoughts, he didn’t even notice the passage of time.
Time, however, waited for no one.
By the time Vincent snapped back to reality, the sun had shifted considerably.
The golden light that had once warmed him was gone, replaced by creeping shadows.
Finally, Vincent drew a deep breath and turned toward the Ravenclaw common room.
Only with proper rest could he maintain a sharp mind and better navigate this mystery.
His current confusion and exhaustion were no reason to lose his head.
He needed to stay calm and reorganize his thoughts.
Lying on his bed in the dormitory, Vincent felt at peace.
This matter could not be left alone.
He had to keep looking for more clues.
Although he couldn’t break the rules and deliberately attack Professor Quirrell just to see what was under his turban…
Wait—he couldn’t do it himself.
Breaking school rules carried too high a risk, which wasn’t his style.
However, he knew people who wouldn’t mind breaking a few rules to satisfy their own curiosity.
*
The next day, Vincent deliberately waited around the corner near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower for Hermione.
That was right—he had specifically asked someone to call Hermione out from the Gryffindor common room.
Of course it had to be Hermione.
It could only be Hermione.
Hermione was composed and sharp.
Even if Vincent dropped a hint, she wouldn’t do anything risky in a fit of impulsiveness.
Vincent trusted her completely.
“Hello, Hermione,” Vincent greeted softly.
Hermione looked at Vincent in surprise, wondering why he had called her out.
“Vincent, did you need something? Harry and Ron aren’t in the common room, and I don’t know where they are either. Maybe I could ask Neville for you—they’re on good terms.”
Her relationship with Harry and Ron had been a bit strained lately.
Vincent had noticed—or rather, he had foreseen this day coming.
Hermione was a strict rule-follower, whereas Ron and Harry were spontaneous and unrestrained.
Unless something happened to break the ice between them again, they would only drift further apart.
Vincent was weighing whether to give them such an opportunity, though that wasn’t his purpose today.
“No need, Hermione. I came specifically to find you.”
Vincent lowered his head slightly, putting on a mysterious air.
“If I wanted to discuss academic matters with someone, no one is more suitable than you.”
Hermione seemed to smile slightly.
Vincent continued, “Remember my previous guess? Books say that Dark Magic causes physical changes to a person. Assuming my guess is true—purely hypothetical, I don’t mean to target the professor—if it holds, who knows whether Professor Quirrell has dabbled in Dark Magic?”
Hermione frowned, not understanding why Vincent had suddenly brought this up.
Talking about this with someone else might have been more appropriate—last time Vincent suspected Professor Quirrell was hiding something, Ron and Harry couldn’t offer any useful input, so it made sense he wanted to consult her.
Hermione had thought Vincent wouldn’t discuss these things with her because she had been keeping her distance from Harry and Ron lately.
But…
Hermione admitted she was quite pleased right now.
“Ahem, we can’t rule it out,” Hermione cleared her throat, gathering her thoughts before answering.
“Professor Quirrell is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, so it’s only natural he understands Dark Magic. I read in a book somewhere that Dark Magic really does affect a person’s mind and appearance.”
She mimicked Vincent’s cautious phrasing from earlier: “If—and this is just an ‘if’—Professor Quirrell really has studied Dark Magic, wearing that turban every day could indeed be a lingering side effect of Dark Magic. But this is just our speculation. You mustn’t do anything reckless.”
It was precisely because Harry and Ron always disregarded school rules that their relationship was so strained now.
Fortunately, Hermione didn’t need to repeatedly warn Vincent.
He was a sensible person who wouldn’t act recklessly.
Sometimes, Hermione felt she was far less calm than he was.
Vincent was a Ravenclaw; they always planned before taking action, so Hermione trusted him implicitly.
Vincent glanced toward the corner, his voice rising with a touch of tension.
“Professor Quirrell secretly practicing Dark Magic is a very serious matter. If Dark Magic has ruined his brain… we do have Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. The older students might be fine, but young first-years like us… Well, this is just my guess. I don’t mean anything by it.”
Hearing Vincent’s words, Hermione assumed he was deliberately reassuring her that he wasn’t targeting Professor Quirrell out of malice.
She understood his concern.
After all, the dangers of Dark Magic were common knowledge.
Besides, Harry suspected Professor Snape, and Harry certainly hadn’t considered her feelings as politely as Vincent did.
She patted Vincent on the shoulder and said, “Of course I know. You’re just suspicious. Headmaster Dumbledore must have checked before the professor was hired, so it’s probably just our imagination. Harry said you were impressive, and he was right. I didn’t even think about Dark Magic altering the body.”
Vincent and Hermione chatted for a little while longer before the young witch headed back to Gryffindor.
Vincent watched the edge of the red robes linger at the corner for a brief moment before disappearing, then turned and walked away.
His heart was full of expectation, hoping his words had caught a certain pair’s attention.
He had only walked a couple of paces after turning around when he bumped into the Weasley twins, George and Fred, walking toward him with grinning faces.
They called out a greeting.
That was fast.
As expected of those two.
Who better than the Weasley twins—people willing to break school rules and openly go against a professor just to satisfy their own curiosity?
He wasn’t deliberately exploiting them; this was a win-win collaboration.