Stepping out of the small world, Loren couldn't help sighing—his underlings' initiative was ridiculously strong.
With the sigh done, he stopped worrying about the small world. Let them make a ruckus; he would steer the big picture. Using his permissions, he warped to the Room of Requirement, summoned Dobby, and had him prepare some dinner to comfort his stomach.
Fed and watered, Loren blinked back to where he'd been and strolled to the Gryffindor common room. The scene that greeted him made him pause: Hermione was tutoring Harry, Ron, and Neville. Judging by the setup, the trio had asked her for help—there were fewer than ten weeks left before finals.
Because Loren had meddled earlier, all the professors had tightened their lesson plans. The finals looked to be harder than usual; no wonder they were begging Hermione for tutoring.
After watching from afar for a bit, Loren's mischief kicked in. Controlling his steps, he ghosted up behind the three. Hermione spotted him at once and was about to speak, but Loren cut her off with a glance and a small gesture.
He studied the trio's states and immediately saw the differences. The study session had to be Neville's idea—he listened the most seriously. Ron and Harry were there because Neville had dragged them along. Ron, competing with Neville, was actually trying. Harry, meanwhile, had parked his body here, but his soul was wandering who-knows-where.
"Professor Quirrell really is pitiful—bullied by students and by Snape," Loren murmured right into Harry's ear.
"Right! I think someone's framing Professor Quirrell from behind the scenes, but I don't know who," Harry answered without thinking, still mulling Quirrell's situation. Ever since learning that Snape was pressuring Quirrell, he'd been secretly watching him and found the man in a bad way. Aside from class time, Quirrell almost never appeared outside his office, and on his way to lessons he was furtive and cautious—students kept trying to snatch off his turban.
"I suspect Professor Snape is deliberately targeting him," Loren went on. "At first it was Peeves, but when Peeves disappeared, rumors spread that someone had put a bounty on Quirrell's turban. Peeves is a special ghost who only the Bloody Baron can command, and the Bloody Baron just happens to be Slytherin's house ghost, and Snape just happens to be Slytherin's Head. He can, to a degree, direct the house ghost."
There Loren stopped, leaving the rest for Harry to fill in on his own.
The highest art of lying is to speak only truths; combined the right way, those truths make a lie. Peeves had indeed made the first move against Quirrell—but at Loren's instruction. It was common knowledge at Hogwarts that the Bloody Baron could direct Peeves. A Head of House could indeed direct the house ghost; whether the ghost listened was another matter.
In Harry's mind, it became: from the start, someone had planned to isolate the new Professor Quirrell by siccing Peeves on him. Quirrell resisted and somehow got rid of Peeves, but Snape wouldn't stop—he stirred up students to harass Quirrell. Faced with endless student trouble, Quirrell couldn't harden his heart against them, and, helpless, he submitted to Snape's threats and tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone for him. To keep the leash short, Snape didn't stop the harassment; if anything, it escalated. After Christmas, Quirrell vanished from the castle for quite a while; Snape even substituted for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Only in the past week had Quirrell returned, looking visibly weaker. Clearly he'd tried to run over the holiday, been caught by Snape, and punished—otherwise he wouldn't seem so drained. Yes, that was it. Snape was the mastermind. It was all his doing.
With that, Harry slapped the table. "Snape's the one behind it all—we have to stop him!"
Every other student in the common room glared daggers at him. With finals looming and the revised curriculum, teachers had piled on homework and hinted openly and obliquely that the exams would be tougher. Many Gryffindors already disliked studying and now were miserable. Because of the Transfiguration experiments, lots of parents had warmed to them and upped their allowances. If finals went badly, those allowances would be cut. Having seen the light, who wanted to go back to the dark?
Harry's table-slap had started with momentum, but under all those angry stares his bravado evaporated. He hunched, grabbed Ron and Neville, and fled to the dormitory.
"Is tricking a fool fun to you?" Hermione had somehow appeared at Loren's side and whispered.
"It's very fun. I want to see Harry's face when he finally discovers Quirrell is the real final boss," Loren whispered back, slipping an arm around her.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think your mean streak is acting up—"
Her words cut off when Loren stole a firm kiss; nothing else came out. The move drew more looks in the common room; once people saw it was Loren and Hermione, the attention melted into grins and whispers.
By now Loren was the most legendary figure at Hogwarts, admired by students of every House. It wasn't that his grades were flawless, or because he never did any homework—there were one or two upper-year Ravenclaws with similar privileges. The root was Professor Binns, the ghost who taught History of Magic. Over Christmas, Loren had given him a hat that could maintain a soul. The effect was astonishing. On the first night back, while the whole school (save Quirrell) ate in the Great Hall, Professor Binns rose from under the staff table and, in front of everyone, demanded his back pay for nearly a thousand years—then declared he would give all of it to Loren to thank him for the lovely hat. The Hall exploded. Only then did people notice the hat on Binns's head.
Lower-year students from every House focused on the fact that Binns wanted to hand his wages to Loren. After that uproar, Loren naturally became a legend of Hogwarts, basking in almost universal admiration. (A few dim bulbs were exceptions—mostly Slytherins; close-cousin marriages tend to produce the odd deformity. Can't blame them.)
Hermione, bolder than before, still flushed under so many eyes. She raised her book to cover her face and scurried back to the girls' dormitory. Loren, much thicker-skinned, waved to everyone and sauntered off to his room.
Meanwhile, back in the dorm, Harry had dragged Ron and Neville along and breathlessly recounted what happened in the common room. When he finished, Ron spoke first. "Harry, your theory makes a lot of sense. No wonder Professor Quirrell was gone from the castle for weeks—Snape must have dragged him off for torture."
"Neville?" Harry blinked.
Neville's comment startled him—he had indeed ignored one thing: who had whispered in his ear? Watching Harry fall into thought, Neville shut his mouth. From what he knew of Loren, those words were likely Loren's. Since he began training, Neville's brain had grown. He recalled meeting Loren; little details that once slipped past now stood out. He was sure his good friend loved to tease people; Quirrell had been a great example. And Harry right now looked a lot like Draco had back then.
"Harry only said a couple of bad things about Loren," Neville consoled himself silently. "He shouldn't end up as miserable as Draco… right?"
The dormitory sank into a quiet gloom.
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