Hermione accompanied Blake on the train back to Hogwarts too, which the boy was grateful for. He hadn't been able to think of anything since learning that Connor was most likely coming to Hogwarts soon.
The only distractions he'd had from that all Christmas break was the work McGonagall had set him, plus any reading he could do related to magic.
Quirrell… Quirrell… Quirrell… Blake's terror at the thought of Quirrell trying anything at all with his little brother consumed him, even as he rode back to the school, and it was apparent on his face.
Tracey, Zabini, Charlotte, and especially Greengrass, were surprised to see the dazed look on his face, instead of a happy or at least normal one after coming back to Hogwarts.
"What happened?" Greengrass asked him in between lessons on their first day back. Tracey and Zabini were arguing, with Charlotte mediating, so they'd been given a rare opportunity to talk.
"Nothing," Blake said. "I've just realised that we need to get a move on - and soon."
Greengrass sniffed imperceptibly. "If you're going to lie to me, at least put some effort and make it believable."
"Shut up, Greengrass."
Lessons continued with McGonagall, but the Professor sensed something was different. Blake had clearly completed what she'd asked him to do, and had apparently practiced the wand movements too. He's improved over Christmas, without any real training! The boy's talent somehow managed to always surprise McGonagall, but she was still worried. Like any good teacher, she asked her student what was wrong.
"Nothing, Professor."
The old witch raised an eyebrow at him. Should I tell her I know about the Stone? No, Dumbledore might use Legilimency to find out how I know, and I don't want to get Hagrid in trouble, or make him lose trust in me. But she already knows I know about Quirrell trying to steal it - she just doesn't think I know what exactly it is. In that case…
"Fine, Professor," Blake said, rolling his eyes, before deflating slightly. "My brother's going to be a wizard too, I think."
McGonagall opened her eyes wide in surprise.
"Are you sure, Mr Renshaw? Y'know, unexplained magic could still have been y-"
"My mum said it had happened twice during the first term, Professor."
McGonagall paused in shock again.
"That is very rare," McGonagall muttered to herself. "Two sibling muggleborn students? I've not heard of that before… Are you sure you don't have any magical heritage, Mr Renshaw?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Hmm… interesting…" That family certainly is special, Minerva thought to herself with a small smile. But I don't understand why the child seems worried. Oh, wait - of course…
"Hm. I see why you're concerned, child," McGonagall sighed. "But please, trust us - whatever's being guarded is being guarded with everything Hogwarts has to offer."
Blake didn't have to fake his contempt.
"Respectfully, Professor, a first year student like me already knows how to get past the dog. I doubt Quirrell will have many problems."
McGonagall looked at him, somewhat surprised at his rare, frustrated tone, before sighing, looking as if she was thinking hard.
Oh whatever - it's not like the boy knows about the Stone anyway, and if I tell him he's much more likely to calm down a little bit - it's like he's high on something right now!
"Mr Renshaw, if I tell you just how thoroughly the Stone's guarded, will it ease your worries?"
Blake's eyes lit up for a second, and the professor sighed again.
"Very well. Listen carefully, Mr Renshaw. To reach the object in question, one must get past a challenge from each of the professors at Hogwarts. Fluffy was Hagrid's. There are 7 in total, each extremely challenging and precarious in their own right. The only person that knows how to get past everything, and the only person likely able to get past everything, is Professor Dumbledore. Does that help?"
Blake answered the question with a question.
"Who are the professors and what are their challenges?"
McGonagall's nostrils flared at the audacity, but she wasn't surprised, nor angry.
"I think you must know I cannot tell you what the challenges are, Mr Renshaw! But if you must know, the challenges were made by Hagrid, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor Quirrell-" McGonagall saw the incredulous look on Blake's face but continued.
"Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore, and myself!" she finished with pointed eyes.
"So even if you could believe that Quirrell could get past our defences, he would have to get past Dumbledore's too!"
Blake was silent - he had no reply, and McGonagall felt a small wave of triumph. Dumbledore had been expecting that Blake wouldn't be too pleased with Quirrell remaining in the school, and now that his little brother was attending, his feelings towards Dumbledore had probably been… less than good. But now - that should've changed. Blake should be perfectly content with minding his own business now.
"I see - thank you, Professor," he said, smiling, and they continued on with their lesson, with McGonagall thinking the matter had been put to bed. Blake, however, had other ideas. Sorry, Professor. But I'm not taking any more chances.
/
Later that day, Blake found himself near the Forbidden Forest again - but only this time, he wasn't there to improve his spell. I don't have the time for that, Blake told himself. Quirrell might make a move at any time, and I can't afford to be wasting time worrying about essay writing when I might have to fight him!
Alone, Blake practiced his spells, over and over again until he felt like he'd had no magic left - and it's not even dark yet!
Blake banged his arm against the nearest tree in frustration. I've barely done 50 reps in total, and I'm already tired - and that was just the second year spells! How am I meant to stand up to Quirrell like this! I don't even have any spells to use to actually hurt or kill him either!
Blake paused suddenly, and stayed still for a very long time. Did I just…
He shuddered. Since when was I actually considering killing someone?
Blake pushed the thought far back in his mind. There's no point in thinking about that. He sighed, wondering what else he could do. Suddenly, McGonagall's words came back to mind.
"-magical fatigue exists, Mr Renshaw - it grows with practice, just like physical fatigue, but it's very worth keeping track of in a battle. Dodge where you can, and don't fire spells for the sake of it - calculate every move, and then eventually, when you reach a certain stage, it'll become instinct."
He then thought of Quirrell - not as a potential enemy, not as an attempted murderer, but just his appearance. Frail, weak, sickly. I doubt he can move all that fast…
Blake tucked his wand deep into his pockets, and got down on his hands and knees.
"1!"
If I'm going to practice my magical endurance and strength…
"2!"
I should make sure my physical endurance and strength matches it…
"3!"
Push ups, pull ups, squats, running…
"4!"
Every day, as much as I can…
"5!"
When Quirrell makes his move, I'll be as ready as I can be.
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