"The rest of the investigation is up to you two. We've figured out what's hidden in that corridor and understood Snape's motives."
In the Hogwarts library, three young wizards had chosen a table at the very edge, quietly discussing their next plan in hushed whispers.
Since Hermione was going home for Christmas, the task of investigating Snape would fall entirely to Harry and Ron, who were staying at school.
"We just need to keep an eye on Snape and find some clues to piece together evidence that he wants to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Hermione explained, her voice urgent but controlled. "To steal that thing, Snape will definitely try to find a way past Fluffy. Although Hagrid believes Fluffy can prevent others from entering that corridor, he also mentioned that Fluffy has weaknesses."
She leaned forward, her eyes intense. "The library is crucial. If Snape wants to know about the three-headed dog's weaknesses, this is the first place he'll come. During the holidays, you need to spend more time here keeping watch. We absolutely cannot let him find out how to get past Fluffy!"
"If possible, it would be best to read all the books he's looked at!"
Hearing Hermione's words, Ron couldn't help but groan.
"Come to the library during vacation?"
"Do you still want to catch Snape or not?" Hermione glared at Ron disapprovingly, then spoke earnestly again. "This difficulty is only temporary. Once we catch Snape, everything will be fine!"
"Why aren't you going home for Christmas either?"
Walking back to the common room, Harry suddenly turned to look at Ron. Hermione was still in the library, saying she planned to choose a few books to read during the holidays and had told them to go back first.
"Mum and Dad are going to Romania to see Charlie. It's not just me—George, Fred, and Percy are also spending Christmas at school." Ron's expression was somewhat gloomy, as if wondering why they couldn't be taken along to visit Charlie.
"Charlie? Your brother who raises dragons in Romania?"
Harry remembered the name. Although Ron didn't mention Charlie as often as Bill and Percy, he had still heard it many times.
"Yeah, he's also Mum's darling."
After chatting for a while longer, Harry suddenly felt the urge to use the loo. He told Ron and turned toward a washroom in the nearby corridor.
Hogwarts had at least five washrooms on each floor, some of which were rarely visited, like the one Harry was heading to now. He wasn't sure why the school had built so many washrooms in remote locations, but now it could provide him with some privacy.
But just as Harry reached the door and was about to push it open, a somewhat panicked voice suddenly came from inside.
"...I'll do my best. Please give me another chance."
"He likes magical creatures very much. I think we could get a rather rare egg..."
Who was in the washroom?
Hearing the voice from inside, Harry felt a spark of curiosity. Instead of going straight in, he pressed his ear against the door to listen carefully.
Then he heard an extremely hoarse voice—one that made his blood run cold.
The speaker seemed to have something terribly wrong with their throat, making their voice sound like a venomous snake preparing to strike.
"This is the last time."
"Using this filthy, weak body makes me feel sick. You'd better not make me go that far."
"Otherwise, your soul..."
Inadvertently, Harry's head bumped against the washroom door handle, making a faint sound.
He quickly pulled back, but the voices in the room had already stopped.
A few seconds later, the door was pushed open, and Professor Quirrell, with his large turban wrapped around his head, stumbled out in a panic, glancing toward the doorway.
Seeing it was Harry, his already panicked expression became even more unpleasant. His lips moved, but he ultimately said nothing and hurried toward the nearby corridor.
Professor Quirrell?
Watching the stumbling figure leave the washroom, Harry felt puzzled. Didn't he have a stuttering problem? Quirrell clearly stuttered terribly when teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, but just now when he was speaking, he didn't seem to stutter at all.
This didn't match his impression of Professor Quirrell at all.
And why would Professor Quirrell be here? It sounded like he was being threatened.
Watching Quirrell's disappearing figure, Harry suddenly had a realization.
Wait, who would threaten Professor Quirrell? Who could threaten Professor Quirrell in the castle?
A name immediately flashed through his mind.
Snape!
Only Snape, with his network throughout the school, could possibly threaten a school professor at Hogwarts!
Thinking this way, he pushed open the washroom door and rushed in.
If he saw Snape inside, he would have found solid evidence of Snape threatening other professors!
But after Harry rushed through the door, what he saw was an empty washroom.
Warm oil lamps flickered on both sides, the washbasins were spotlessly clean, all the stall doors hung open, and the washroom appeared completely deserted.
He carefully searched the entire washroom, checking every stall and corner, but still found no trace of anyone.
Harry was certain that before he entered the washroom, he hadn't seen anyone else come out besides Quirrell. But if there was no one else... who had made that hoarse voice?
Scratching his head in confusion, Harry searched the washroom carefully once more, still finding nothing, and had to give up reluctantly.
Maybe I heard wrong?
But he had definitely heard a hoarse voice threatening Quirrell. That voice was very distinctive—he was certain he could never have imagined such a voice.
But thinking about it carefully, that voice didn't really sound like Snape either. Although Snape's voice was cold, it was never hoarse to that degree.
But besides Snape, who else would threaten Quirrell in the castle? And leave no trace whatsoever?
A ghost? Or a spirit?
"Using this filthy, weak body..."
Mulling over those words, Harry's body shivered, and he instinctively looked around at everything.
Maybe I should use a different washroom?
About two minutes later, Harry emerged from the washroom and walked toward the Gryffindor common room.
After Harry had gone far, Quirrell's figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the nearby corridor, watching Harry's retreating form with a trace of malice in his eyes.
The turban on his head began to writhe slowly, and a voice echoed in the corridor.
"He heard it, he must have heard it!"
The hoarse voice sounded from the back of Quirrell's head. It was like a venomous snake, yet more chilling than any serpent.
"Harry Potter! It's him again!"
"That damned prophecy!"
"Kill him, we must kill him!"
The voice gradually became increasingly furious, and Quirrell's body began to tremble as he slowly leaned against the nearby wall.
His face became as white as parchment, his legs shaking uncontrollably, looking as if he might collapse at any moment.
After a long while, the anger in the voice gradually subsided, leaving only cold killing intent.
"I'm giving you three days. After three days, if he's still alive, you know the consequences."
"If you still want to keep that weak body of yours."
The voice slowly faded away, and Quirrell's trembling gradually calmed. He stood up again, his legs still somewhat weak, but his tone was very firm.
"Yes, Master."
[Chapter Complete]
***
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