“Hey, Vincent!” George said.
“Long time no see—” Fred continued.
They launched into an introduction of the latest product they had developed—vomit-flavored sweets.
The candies looked especially bright and colorful in their hands.
“This is our newest masterpiece!” George declared proudly.
“Guaranteed to give people a real shock!” Fred added.
Vincent was carrying a book and “coincidentally” ran into the Weasley twins in the corridor.
Thanks to Ron, Vincent already knew a great deal about his twin brothers.
“Good morning, George, Fred.” With those extremely simple words he earned a nonstop stream of explanations.
The Weasley twins were actually very easy to get along with.
Perhaps it was the Weasley family atmosphere; they were both extremely warm people.
Once you became their friend, even if you were the quiet type you could still spend time with them quite pleasantly.
Vincent was patient.
He was willing to listen to the Weasley twins talk about their prank ideas without showing the slightest intention of lecturing them.
He simply treated the ideas as interesting concepts.
At first George had thought Vincent was a stuffy sort of person.
He had not expected the boy to be the first-year who understood them best.
He understood their minds even better than their own younger brother did.
Fred tossed a candy up and down, looking so eager to try it that Vincent quickly changed the subject.
“You could try it on small animals first—Ron’s rat, for example.
I’ve noticed he doesn’t move around much and eats an awful lot.
That can’t be good for his health.” Vincent of course had no idea how to care for a rat.
He had simply named the creature he disliked most off the top of his head.
Every time he looked at that rat, Vincent felt vaguely unhappy.
The rat’s eyes did not seem to like him either.
It was Ron’s pet; he only kept his distance and did nothing else.
But if the Weasley twins wanted a test subject for their new candy, using a rat seemed more acceptable than using a person.
George winked at him.
“If Ron asks—” Fred grinned and stuffed a handful of the candies into Vincent’s hand.
“We’ll be the first ones to sell you out.” Vincent slipped the items into his pocket.
“Fine.
If he really comes looking for me, I’ll apologize sincerely—maybe by treating him to a candy or something.” The Weasley twins leaned against each other and laughed.
They could already picture Ron coming to confront Vincent only to be dismissed in two or three sentences.
Ron’s brain simply could not outmaneuver Vincent’s.
“Since we’re using it on pets anyway, why not feed it to Filch’s cat?” The Weasley twins’ feud with Filch had begun in their first year.
A little vomit-inducing candy was nothing.
“The staff at Hogwarts all have their own distinctive traits,” Vincent said conversationally, fingering the candies in his pocket.
“Filch, who stares at students all day, goes without saying.
The other professors seem a bit better.
It’s just the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—I can never figure out what he’s actually trying to do.” And so the topic naturally drifted to Professor Quirrell.
The Weasley twins had just invented a new candy and were still in high spirits; they could chat about any subject for a few sentences.
“Leaving everything else aside, I still don’t know what special meaning that turban is supposed to have,” Vincent said, closing in on the point.
“I only know that Muggles have all sorts of habits for covering up secrets.
But the magical world shouldn’t need those things.
Magic can solve most problems.
Drinking a bit of Polyjuice Potion would be far more useful than any disguise technique.” Fred answered offhandedly, “Quirrell couldn’t actually be trying to hide something, could he?
Is he keeping a secret on the back of his head?” “What’s on the back of Quirrell’s head?” George’s interest was piqued.
“At the very least it won’t be an extra face,” Fred said, playing with a vomit sweet and letting his imagination run wild.
“Professor Quirrell is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
Who knows—maybe he really does know some things no one else does, and he’s been experimenting in secret?
After all, no teacher at Hogwarts should understand dark magic better than the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, right?” That remark hit the nail on the head.
Vincent could clearly feel that the Weasley twins had developed a more targeted interest than before.
Neither of them had ever encountered dark magic.
Who knew what effects it might produce?
“From the moment I entered Hogwarts and attended the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell has never once taken off his turban,” Vincent said softly.
“Is it really just a personal habit?
The reason he gave doesn’t hold water in my opinion.
Maybe he really did grow an extra face on the back of his head and is trying to hide it.” George and Fred exchanged a look.
“Maybe…” George began.
“There really is some special reason?” Fred finished.
Vincent smiled faintly and continued, “Just idle speculation.
We can’t actually run up to Professor Quirrell and yank his turban off to see what secret he’s hiding.
Anyway, I’ve got things to do.
I’m heading back to Ravenclaw.
We’ll talk next time.” Vincent left without so much as a backward glance.
As for what the Weasley twins would do— They had only run into each other by chance and chatted for a few sentences.
It was merely a joke, a few harmless bits of speculation.
Who could judge from those few sentences that he had actually done anything?
Even if the Weasley twins did nothing at all, Vincent would lose nothing.
A week later the Weasley twins met Vincent in the library again.
This time, however, they were not as cheerful as before; instead they looked rather dejected.
That was an extremely rare emotion to see on the Weasley twins.
Vincent barely needed any conversational technique before they told him everything they had done.
In their minds Vincent was on the same side as them.
Now that the plan had failed, of course they ought to share it with their partner.
Yes—it had failed.
The Weasley twins had tried using rats, tried using spells and various other methods, yet none of them had succeeded in making Professor Quirrell remove his turban.
Whether by accident or on purpose, he had managed to avoid it every single time.
“If he weren’t Hogwarts’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor…” Fred rested his chin on his hand across from Vincent.
“I’d start suspecting he could predict the future well enough to teach Divination,” George said, sprawled across the table with one hand propping up his head, looking thoroughly exhausted.
“As long as you two are fine,” Vincent offered half-hearted comfort.
“If Professor Quirrell noticed anything, Professor McGonagall would never allow you to mess with a teacher.” He patted the twins’ shoulders, signaling that they need not worry.
George was a little unhappy with that remark.
“You’re underestimating us…” “Even Professor McGonagall doesn’t catch us every time…” “It’s only Quirrell.
He just got lucky.” Vincent quickly nodded in surrender.
“You’re right.
Professor Quirrell is just lucky.
For someone with that kind of personality to become Hogwarts’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—there’s no one more fortunate than him.” After soothing the Weasley twins, Vincent prepared to think of other methods.
He walked out of the library with a book in his arms, his expression far from relaxed.
A cold wind carrying the chill of approaching winter stirred his school robes.
Nearly half a year had already passed, and the unsolved mystery still hung over his mind like a spiderweb.
Vincent found the situation a little hard to accept.
He had never before encountered a problem that took him this long to solve.
“What exactly do you want from Quirrell?” A magnetic voice came from behind him, interrupting his thoughts.
He turned and saw Professor Snape stepping out of the shadows, those deep eyes seeming able to see through everything.
Vincent did not know how much Professor Snape actually knew.
This professor was definitely not an easy opponent.
“Good afternoon, Professor Snape.
I’m not sure I understand your meaning.
Perhaps I simply want to learn more about Defense Against the Dark Arts from Professor Quirrell.
Books in the library can’t teach as well as a living person, after all.” Like hell they couldn’t.
A teacher like Professor Quirrell would be better off not teaching at all.
If Hogwarts had teacher evaluations, Professor Quirrell would be the first one eliminated.
The second would be the Professor Snape standing in front of him.
“I thought only the little trolls of Gryffindor had nothing but gillyweed for brains.
When did Ravenclaw start accepting students like that?” Professor Snape’s voice carried clear sarcasm, his gaze sharp enough to pierce Vincent’s soul.
He knew Vincent was targeting Professor Quirrell.
He also knew that Vincent must have discovered something.
Yet for the moment both of them had to pretend they knew nothing.
Vincent smiled slightly.
He did not fear Snape’s threats.
“Professor Snape, I’ve heard you have a profound understanding of potions, and you yourself are an outstanding potions master.
Any kind of learning requires an exploratory spirit to produce results.
I thought you would appreciate students who dare to explore.” Snape’s brow lifted slightly.
He clearly had not expected Vincent to respond that way.
“Oh?
Is that so?
Then what exactly have you explored?” The acidity in his voice had not lessened in the slightest.
“I’m only searching for some knowledge, Professor Snape.
After all, knowledge is the most precious treasure in the magical world.” His answer was both clever and cautious—neither a direct reply nor a complete evasion of the question.
Professor Snape’s gaze grew even sharper, as if he were evaluating every single word Vincent spoke.
“Then you’d best be careful about the knowledge you pursue.
Some knowledge can land you in danger.” His words carried a clear warning.
Snape disliked these reckless students, whether they were Gryffindors or Ravenclaws.
Why couldn’t they think like normal students—focus on studying and earning house points for their houses—instead of concerning themselves with all sorts of irrelevant matters and creating extra work for him for no reason?
Especially this Ravenclaw young wizard.
In class there was never a single handle to grab, yet after class he still had energy to spare for worrying about Quirrell’s problems.
If Dumbledore had not specifically asked him to keep an eye on the boy, Snape would not have wanted to spare him a single extra ounce of attention.
Vincent Riddle—Snape did not know the reason for Dumbledore’s special interest in him.
He was just an ordinary boy from the Muggle world.
Perhaps it was because of that overused surname?
Not everyone could become that person.
Hogwarts had probably not yet reached the level of “luck” required to produce two successive scourges of the world.
Vincent gave a small nod to show he understood.
“I will, Professor Snape.
After all, safety always comes first.” His reply sounded extremely polite, yet Professor Snape’s expression did not improve in the slightest.
“Then you’d better be even more careful.
Don’t end up causing Madam Pomfrey unnecessary trouble.” Professor Snape’s appearance was only an interlude.
Vincent did not take it to heart.
He had far too many things he wanted to deal with; Professor Snape was not yet high enough on the list.
However… he noticed another change.
Hermione had suddenly begun keeping her distance from them.
Previously she had only reduced the frequency of her appearances; now even Vincent rarely saw her.
When he failed to find her in the library once again, Vincent voiced his confusion.
“Can someone tell me what happened?” Harry rubbed his nose unnaturally, his eyes a little shifty.
“What?
Nothing happened.” His answer sounded rather guilty.
Clearly there was something he had not said.
Vincent had thought that after the troll incident Hermione’s relationship with them had improved dramatically.
He had not expected a new distance to form.
Ron sat nearby, looking a little silent.
He did not answer Vincent’s question directly, but his expression already revealed some information.
Vincent needed more information to unravel his own mysteries.
He would have to find Hermione privately and talk with her.
Perhaps she could provide him with some new ideas.
Ah—he remembered now.
The last time he had gone looking for Hermione, her attitude had already been a little strange.
A whole week had passed.
Had they still not reconciled?