💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎
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"I—I'm fine, let's con—continue," Quirrell said, but his sweaty forehead told another answer.
Anthony frowned. "Whatever you're worried about, Professor Quirrell, perhaps you should go up first. Go to the Hospital Wing—I promise I'll deal with the Basilisk."
Quirrell didn't answer and just walked forward silently. Anthony followed behind him worriedly. Besides garlic smell, Quirrell gave off a strange odor, but he was already an adult and Anthony couldn't make decisions for him.
When he decided to turn into a fork, Anthony gripped the rope and called out, "Professor Quirrell? Professor! This way."
Quirrell's face twitched and smiled. "Of—of course, you know—know the way, Professor Anthony."
He started asking Anthony incoherently how much he knew about Basilisks, how he remembered the path, whether tonight's dinner suited his taste.
His distraction was too obvious. Anthony had to answer each question gently and told him he'd read quite a bit about Basilisks and left markers when coming down last time. As for dinner, he didn't eat much but quite liked today's mashed potatoes, just wasn't too satisfied with the boiled peas.
"Yes, yes, boiled peas..." Quirrell murmured.
Anthony wrapped rope around the fork corner while chatting with him. "Which dish do you like best, Professor Quirrell?"
"Ju—juniper berries," Quirrell answered irrelevantly.
Anthony thought seriously. "Very rare choice—I haven't seen juniper berries used in cooking much. Let me think... Probably because I don't eat much game."
Quirrell half-heartedly responded and walked with him through the damp cold tunnel. "What do—do you like?"
Anthony considered and couldn't help smiling. "Quite a lot. I guess I'm a greedy person, but if you ask me now, what I most want to eat isn't some delicious dish but scones from the shop at my community entrance."
"Sco—scones?"
"Yes, scones. Cheap and delicious," Anthony promised. "If there's a chance, I'll bring you some next time I return from holiday."
Perhaps because the house-elves' baking skills were too exquisite, Hogwarts scones were always just right in softness and sweetness, and Anthony found he still preferred that small shop's scones whose crusts sometimes baked somewhat dry and hard.
Quirrell's face paled further.
They soon reached that stone wall. The viper coiled on Anthony's wrist raised its head, hissed and flicked its tongue, and looked at the emerald snake eyes glinting under magical light.
The two intertwined stone snakes suddenly separated. The wall cracked open and slowly slid to both sides. The room behind was astonishingly tall—in light so dim almost nothing could be seen, between tall stone pillars permeated an eerie green atmosphere that quietly waited for Anthony and Quirrell.
Quirrell suddenly said, "Did you pre—prepare a rooster, An—Anthony Professor?"
Anthony was stunned and shook his head. On the road he'd already told Quirrell he thought the Basilisk was still dormant, and Quirrell agreed with his speculation.
"We'd be—best make thorough preparations," Quirrell stammered as sweat seeped from his turban again. "Go ask Ha—Hagrid for a chicken."
"All right," Anthony thought. "Then I'll trouble you, Professor Quirrell." Quirrell looked indeed quite terrified but still insisted on helping Anthony. If he could send him away to do something else, that was also good.
Quirrell shook his head. "I'm not—not familiar with him. You go ex—explain, Professor."
"No need for such trouble—just tell Hagrid it's to deal with the Basilisk and he'll definitely help you," Anthony said.
Quirrell's face twitched and suddenly laughed neurotically. "You go, don't wa—waste time. I don't ca—care about the Basilisk."
He flicked his wand and made a loud whooshing sound. A very deep mark suddenly appeared on the solid tunnel floor accompanied by ominous sizzling—remains, mud, stone bricks near the mark were all corroded into black smoke. If he hadn't held back, Anthony believed this strike could've demolished the tunnel.
So Anthony accepted his goodwill. Probably Quirrell thought Anthony couldn't escape calmly under Basilisk threat, which was why he insisted on accompanying him to deal with the Basilisk despite poor health.
After all, only three people in school knew his necromancer identity: Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Snape. In Quirrell's eyes, he was probably just a Muggle Studies professor obsessed with magical theory research.
Before leaving, Anthony touched the Wraith Mouse in his pocket and left it in the tunnel. If necessary, it could contact him.
The little Wraith Mouse stuck to the wall base and found its previously favorite corner and lay down comfortably.
It was required to watch the passage ahead—once a living thing appeared, living things other than that pale-faced man, immediately contact its summoner.
Unless that man was talking to it, he was explaining something to an empty tunnel.
In the dark mud, it heard the other's faint voice echo on damp walls.
"I... I thought You wanted to recruit him, Master," this person wearing a large scarf said and trembled all over. "No... sorry, Master, sorry."
As if something invisible was tormenting him, he trembled and plopped down kneeling in the sticky passage, which scared the Wraith Mouse to freeze in shock and glance at him before quickly switching to a more secluded corner.
"He... he might not have discovered... Master, Master... he said he hasn't gone to check yet..." the other said intermittently with voice carrying a sob. "If we kill him now, Dumbledore will suspect... Snape is already watching me... our goal..."
He sobbed. "Yes, Master... No, I didn't... just unnecessary..."
That invisible thing seemed to torment him again and the person wrapped in a large turban almost buried himself in the mud.
"No! Please don't, Master!" After a bout of convulsions, he suddenly shouted. "I... I shouldn't have acted on my own..."
But a low, hoarse and eerie hissing already echoed in the tunnel. This young man covered in mud and sweat cried in terror and seemed unable to hear anything anymore.
"Forgive me, Master!" he shouted. "Forgive me!" He tightly closed his eyes and seemed to already know what he was about to face.
He kept shouting these phrases.
A shrill voice suddenly appeared. "I am disappointed, Quirinus... You've lost another part of my trust... But the Dark Lord is merciful... You still have use, close your eyes..."
The young man wept.
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