A white mist was rising from the back of Quirrell's head. It was faint at first, barely visible — then it began to take shape, writhing like a living thing trying to escape the black dog blood burning through Quirrell's system.
"It's working," Hall breathed.
He plunged the ritual blade into the space above Quirrell's head — not touching flesh, but piercing the mist where it was thickest.
The scream that filled the classroom was not human.
The mist convulsed, trying to pull back into Quirrell's skull, but the blade held it pinned. The black dog blood was burning it from the inside.
Hall held the blade steady. Eleven hundred Galleons, right here. Don't mess this up.
"Granger, no!" came a shout from the door.
Hermione had returned with a professor — but it was Dumbledore, not McGonagall.
Dumbledore took in the scene: Quirrell bound in red cord, a white mist thrashing above his head, pinned by a ritual blade.
His expression changed.
"Petrificus Totalus," he said calmly.
Quirrell's body froze solid, still bound and pinned.
Dumbledore turned to the class. "Class is dismissed. Everyone back to your common rooms. Henry — stay."
The students filed out, glancing back with a mixture of fear and excitement. Malfoy paused at the door and shot Hall a look — a question.
Hall rolled his eyes. Yes, I have professional ethics. Go.
Malfoy nodded and left.
When the room was empty, Dumbledore sent his Patronus — a phoenix — to summon the other professors. Then he turned to face Hall.
"Henry. How did you know?"
"Peeves mentioned he smelled something familiar on Professor Quirrell," Hall said. "I made a guess."
"Peeves."
"Yes, Headmaster."
Hall knew that every ghost at Hogwarts was essentially one of Dumbledore's informants. His answer was technically true — Peeves had said something similar. It was just a matter of timing.
Before Dumbledore could press further, the door burst open.
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Snape strode in, robes billowing. McGonagall followed.
"Henry William." Snape's voice cut through the tension. "What are you still doing here? Go back to your common room."
"Head of House." Hall nodded to each professor and left.
Snape was protecting me. He got me out before Dumbledore could interrogate me properly.
Hall felt something unexpected settle in his chest.
I should get him a gift.
Quirrell's body convulsed as the mist rose.
Hall had already been halfway out the door when Dumbledore called him back. But Snape's interference bought him a clean exit.
Snape and Dumbledore stared at each other across the frozen tableau — Quirrell bound in red cord, the white mist still pinned by the rowan-wood blade, twitching like a living thing.
But Dumbledore had already seen enough.
In the corridor, Hall finally exhaled.
He'd done it. Voldemort was out of Quirrell's body. The Dark Lord had been physically expelled from his host by black dog blood of all things — a folk remedy so old and crude that no modern wizard would ever think to use it.
And now Snape was covering for him.
Snape, who'd warned him to stay out of dangerous things. Who'd told him to focus on potions. Who'd clearly recognised what Hall had done the moment he walked into that room.
He's going to yell at me later. But he got me out first.
That mattered.
In the corridor, Hall finally exhaled.
Back in the classroom, Dumbledore surveyed the scene with tired eyes. The white mist was still struggling against the blade, but weakening visibly.
"Severus," he said quietly. "Take Mr. William's blade and secure the — remnant — in a containment vessel. Then bring Mr. Quirrell to the infirmary."
Snape's expression was unreadable. But when he removed the rowan-wood blade from the mist, his hands were steady.
The mist screamed once more, then collapsed into a faintly glowing orb that Snape caught in a jar and sealed with a cork.
Dumbledore released Quirrell from the Petrification. The man's eyes were open but empty — dazed, confused, but no longer in pain. The tension that had been holding his body rigid for months was gone.
"Quirinus," Dumbledore said gently. "Can you hear me?"
Quirrell blinked. His voice was hoarse. "Headmaster... I... I couldn't stop him..."
"I know. Rest now."
Back in the classroom, Dumbledore surveyed the scene.
Hall was halfway to the Slytherin common room when a voice echoed behind him.
"Mr. William."
He turned. Snape was striding toward him, robes billowing.
"I told you to stay out of dangerous things."
"You told me exorcism potions weren't in my scope of study. You didn't tell me not to use folk remedies."
Snape's jaw tightened. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
"I solved a problem that made twenty-two students miserable and earned myself eleven hundred Galleons in the process. And I got rid of a Dark Lord."
"Partially got rid of," Snape corrected. "That jar will hold him temporarily. He'll find a new host eventually."
"Eventually isn't now. Now buys time."
Snape studied him for a long moment. "Report to my office tonight at eight. Bring your cauldron."
"I don't have a cauldron anymore. I borrowed yours."
Snape looked like he was reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this moment.
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll provide one. Don't borrow anything else."
He turned and walked away.
"Professor?"
Snape stopped.
"Thank you. For getting me out of there."
Snape didn't turn around. "Eight o'clock. Don't be late."
Hall was halfway to the common room when a voice stopped him.
Hall watched him go, then continued toward the common room.
He'd earned eleven hundred Galleons today. He'd made a deal with the twins. He'd expelled a fragment of the most dangerous wizard in history from his host body. And his Head of House — his Head of House — had covered for him.
Not bad for a first week of classes.