Chapter 89. Quirrell Strikes!
After joining the Quidditch team, Duncan's life became even busier.
Time seemed to pass much faster, and before he realised it, it was already the eve of Hallowe'en.
The castle corridors were filled with the scent of pumpkins, and every student's face brimmed with cheer.
On his way to class, Duncan ran into Fred and George, who were secretly selling gadgets they had made in a corner.
They were wearable false teeth which, once the wearer opened their mouth, would shoot scarlet liquid from two fangs.
There was even the metallic tang of blood, making them perfect for the Hallowe'en atmosphere, and sales were excellent.
It was a pity for the students of Hogwarts, because whenever two people passed each other face to face, they had to be extremely on guard.
Otherwise, the other party would open their mouth and your face would be smeared with thick liquid, turning you into a blood-faced demon.
Some students got too carried away and sprayed the liquid onto Snape's face when they opened their mouths, and they were docked ten points on the spot by his cold glare.
Fred and George were implicated as well, and Filch received orders to forbid the twins from selling their gadgets.
Unfortunately, Filch couldn't do magic and wasn't quick on his feet, so he simply couldn't do anything about Fred and George and was run ragged by the two of them.
When classes ended for the day, Duncan and Neville walked into the Great Hall together and gasped at the sight before them.
Countless bats were flapping about the walls and ceiling, occasionally diving down to startle passing students.
Low-hanging clusters of dark cloud swirled above the tables, with lightning flashing every few seconds, accompanied by rumbling peals.
Pumpkin lanterns were indispensable as well.
They swooped up and down above the Great Hall, the candle flames within flickering in bursts.
Once the students had settled along the long tables, delicious dishes appeared on the fine golden plates, sending up mouth-watering aromas.
Duncan's eyes roved around the Hall, searching for Quirrell and Snape.
"Duncan, why aren't you eating?
What are you looking for?" Neville asked casually as he tucked in.
"I just think the Hall's decorations are quite good, so I'm having a look around," Duncan replied.
He found Snape by the small side door of the Hall.
Snape was standing alone with his back to the wall, apparently looking for someone as well.
After a moment, most students had entered the Great Hall and taken their seats, chattering away with their friends.
Snape's gaze swept across the dais where the professors sat and, taking advantage of a moment when no one was paying attention, he turned and strode quickly out of the Hall.
"I'm going to the loo," Duncan said, clutching his stomach as he tossed out the line.
He hurriedly stood, squeezed past the people blocking his way, and followed.
After covertly noting the direction Snape had taken, Duncan found an empty spot, used an Invisibility Potion, and hurried after him.
As he glanced toward the corridor leading to the dungeons after noticing a strange sound, he saw Snape and Quirrell squeezed into a dim corner, speaking in hushed voices.
"Snape, you still haven't figured out what those obstacles are?
I'm about to make a move!" Quirrell suppressed his anger.
"Do you think it's easy?" Snape's tone was unfriendly.
"Dumbledore specifically instructed everyone to keep it secret.
If I deliberately start asking questions, they'll suspect me and might strengthen the protections on the fourth floor."
"Sorry…" Quirrell backed down.
"How many obstacles do you know now?"
"The second is Devil's Snare.
The third has a number of flying keys; you have to find the right one to open the door.
The fourth is Wizard's Chess.
You must win to get through.
The remaining two were designed by the two of us.
You haven't forgotten, have you?" Snape replied in a low voice.
Quirrell nodded and pressed on.
"What about the first one?"
"That's Hagrid's level.
It seems to be a magical creature, but he was very vague about it, so I don't know exactly what."
"How can you fail to get such important information clearly?" Quirrell grumbled.
Snape shot him a glance.
"What, you can't handle a creature that even Hagrid can deal with?
Why don't we switch—let me go, you wait in the Great Hall, and I'll hand the Philosopher's Stone to the master myself."
"Who says I can't?" Quirrell retorted in a rush.
"I just want a bit more certainty, to be more thorough…"
"Enough!" Snape cut him off curtly.
"It's about time.
You should act."
"Right…" Quirrell shifted his feet, then hesitated and looked back.
"And on your end…"
Expressionless, Snape said coldly, "Don't worry.
I'll help pin down the other professors and make sure they don't go to the fourth floor.
Just don't make a mistake."
"That troll has been hungry for quite a while.
Once it gets into the castle, it will certainly cause a ruckus," Quirrell said with a smug smile.
"And I've left a little surprise in the Great Hall as well.
I guarantee Dumbledore and the rest will have no time to notice me.
You just need to keep an eye on them.
Don't do anything extra."
"Mm." Snape gave a slight nod.
"Then off you go.
I'll return to the Great Hall."
Quirrell watched Snape leave, glanced around again to make sure no one was there, and then took an empty corridor out of the castle.
Duncan thought for a moment and didn't follow Quirrell into the Forest, but headed for the Great Hall.
After all, the mechanisms in the Forest had already been set up.
The troll would help trigger them.
There was no point in him going as well—he might even get caught in friendly fire.
Outside the castle the stars were few and the moon was bright, and the cold wind gusted.
Professor Quirrell pulled his robes tighter and, making use of the moonlight, jogged toward the Forest.
"Heh heh, my treasure, heh heh, here I come.
I'm counting on you today…" Quirrell muttered to himself excitedly and, following the path he had walked several times—one he could take with his eyes closed—strode to where the troll was kept under lock.
Quirrell admired the troll's burly body and frenzied roaring, nodded with satisfaction, and took from under a nearby stone the lump of meat he had stashed there during the day.
It was smeared with spices and gave off an enticing aroma.
Never mind that stupid troll—just the smell had Quirrell's own mouth watering, and he kept swallowing.
"Be a good boy.
Want a bite?
If you do, then come with me." Quirrell made the meat rise and dangle in front of the troll, then led it along with the meat toward the secret passage that led to the castle, while unfastening the chains on the troll.
The troll's nostrils flared and viscous drool dribbled from the corners of its mouth, slid down its round belly, and dripped onto the ground.
"Come on then, my treasure…" Quirrell called again.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, the troll lumbered after him.
After it had gone a dozen metres or so, it suddenly caught a familiar scent.
Before its mind even reacted, its big hand moved on instinct, reached to a nearby trunk, and pressed quickly.
A faint light flashed ahead.
Quirrell yelped, bent down at once, and rolled up his trouser leg.
There on his calf was a small red dot.
It seemed he had been bitten by some kind of creature.
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