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HRHL# Bab 54: Quirrell Secret
🕑 Added 2024-12-30 23:41:34 +0000 UTCThe anguished scream was so loud that even the students in the Great Hall heard it clearly.
Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Muggle-born Hufflepuff dozing at his table, jerked awake.
"Whose cat is that?"
----
Outside the hall, Professor Quirrell was frantically pounding at the biting cabbage latched onto the back of his head. His pained howls echoed through the castle.
"Professor Quirrell?"
Professor McGonagall hurried over, flanked by Professors Flitwick and Sprout.
Seeing the cabbage stubbornly clamped down, Professor Sprout rushed forward. She used some unknown method, and the cabbage finally let go, twisting its round body before leaping obediently into her arms.
"Professor Quirrell, are you all right?" Professor Sprout asked with concern. "Do you need to go to the hospital wing?"
Lying in the snow, Quirrell eyed the cabbage trembling in Sprout's arms with visible dread. He scrambled backward on his hands and knees.
The pain from the bite was secondary; what worried him was the wrath of that man...
The memory of the torment he had endured after cursing Potter’s broomstick during the last Quidditch match sent a shiver down his spine.
Just the thought made him break out in a cold sweat.
"I... I'm fine," Quirrell stammered, even as blood trickled from his wounded scalp.
The crimson seeped into his turban, darkening it. With every movement, cloves of garlic soaked in blood fell to the ground.
"I’ll just... go handle this... excuse me," Quirrell stuttered, clutching his turban tightly as he fled awkwardly.
Harry had been watching the scene and couldn’t help but notice Quirrell’s odd behavior. Normally, a professor targeted by such a prank would at least scold the students involved. But instead of getting angry, Quirrell’s first reaction was to flee.
Could it be... that there really was a secret hidden under his turban?
"Weasley twins?" McGonagall's sharp tone interrupted his thoughts. She had caught sight of Fred and George sneaking back into the Great Hall.
"Why are you two here?" she demanded. "And don’t tell me that biting cabbage was one of your pranks!"
"Sorry, Professor," Harry spoke up quickly before the twins could respond. "That biting cabbage was a gift from Professor Sprout. This morning, I noticed it wasn’t behaving quite right, so I brought it here to show her."
"Is that so?" McGonagall’s gaze scrutinized Harry.
Behind her, the twins let out a silent sigh of relief, giving Harry discreet thumbs-up signs.
Good lad. Loyal to a fault.
Harry nodded earnestly. "Yes, Professor."
"That’s correct, Minerva," Professor Sprout chimed in. "The cabbage was a gift from me to Mr. Potter."
"And what exactly is wrong with it?" McGonagall pressed.
"It seemed a bit listless," Harry replied.
As soon as the words left his mouth, the cabbage snapped its jaws with an audible clomp-clomp, as though it hadn’t bitten enough.
"You call that listless?" McGonagall’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
For a brief moment, she thought she saw James in Harry. But she quickly shook off the thought.
Merlin’s beard, no! Potter is just like his mother, not his father. He couldn’t possibly be as mischievous as James.
It must have been her imagination.
"Apologies, Professor. It really was like that earlier today," Harry said, putting on a woeful expression and looking up at McGonagall with wide, pleading green eyes. "It’s my fault. I wasn’t careful and tripped, flinging the cabbage. I didn’t think it would..."
McGonagall’s heart softened instantly.
Yes, Lily’s child couldn’t possibly have done such a thing on purpose.
It had to be an accident.
Her expression softened as she said, "Since it wasn’t intentional, I won’t punish you further, Mr. Potter. However, Gryffindor will lose ten points."
"As for you two..." She turned her stern gaze on the Weasley twins.
"Professor, we—" Fred and George began.
But McGonagall cut them off, her face hard. "The snowball cannons behind the shrubbery... that was your doing?"
"Yes, Professor," they admitted in unison.
"Both of you will serve detention in my office after the holidays," she declared, leaving no room for argument.
"Yes, Professor," they replied. As soon as she turned away, they exchanged a glance of relief.
Whew! Detention? Could’ve been worse.
Once McGonagall left, the twins flanked Harry, throwing their arms over his shoulders.
"Well done, mate," they chorused. "Didn’t sell us out."
Harry shrugged. "It’s nothing. But now I’m even more curious about what’s under Professor Quirrell’s turban. Think about it—hit by snowballs, bitten by that cabbage, and he still wouldn’t take it off. There’s definitely something he’s hiding."
"Yeah, you’re right," Fred agreed. "He’d rather let us off the hook than risk exposing what’s under there. That’s strange."
"Could it be something on the back of his head?" George wondered. "Like a nasty growth? Or... what if it’s dragon pox?"
"If it were dragon pox, it wouldn’t only affect his head," Harry pointed out. "His face and hands would show signs too. It’s unlikely."
He paused, then added thoughtfully, "I don’t think it’s an illness. Maybe he’s dabbling in some kind of dark magic and doesn’t want anyone to know."
"Dark magic?!" the twins exclaimed in hushed voices. "But he’s the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Why would he be studying dark magic?"
"Well, as the saying goes, ‘Know your enemy to defeat your enemy,’" Harry replied with a shrug. "Anyone skilled in defending against dark magic would have to know it well. Otherwise, how could they counter it?"
"That makes sense," the twins said in unison. "But how do you know?"
"It’s simple," Harry explained. "If it were just an illness, even dragon pox, there wouldn’t be any reason to hide it. But he’s clearly desperate to keep the turban’s secret, even at the cost of his dignity. If it’s not dark magic, what else could it be?"
The twins’ eyes lit up.
"So, what should we do?" they asked together.
