A voice sounded from just a few inches away. The compartment door was pulled open, and it sounded as though someone had walked in.
However, if an outsider had been peeking into the compartment at this moment, they would have seen only Ares Delfino sitting there alone.
"A very impressive Disillusionment Charm, sir."
But within the unique magical vision constructed by Ares's bright eyes, someone had indeed barged into his compartment.
It was a middle-aged man with an upright posture and an extraordinary air about him. He had blond hair and a pair of clear blue eyes.
The man was dressed in white monastic robes made of exquisite fabric, though the style was rather eccentric. A gold pocket watch hung on his chest. Ares's gaze "casually" swept over the dragon-hide suitcase the man carried; even through the lid, he could sense its heavy weight.
Then, Ares's penetrating gaze locked onto the man's face again. He furrowed his brow slightly, feigning the confusion one ought to show, but his pupils involuntarily constricted to pinpoints!
"But who might you be, sir?" Ares asked softly. "And furthermore, who is this person you are asking for?"
Thud!
"You act very well, Delfino."
The middle-aged man's square, broad face was written with cold indifference. He dropped the dragon-hide suitcase onto the floor and sat down opposite Ares without invitation.
First glancing at the potion in Ares's hand, the man questioned him in a voice mixed with icy coldness and urgency.
"Have you truly forgotten me, Delfino? We had a deal, didn't we?"
"I have transactional relationships with many people, sir," Ares smiled, maintaining his composure, though his tightly constricted pupils refused to relax. "Which one are you?"
"Still playing dumb, Delfino!"
Anger seeped into the man's voice, but his face remained frozen, incapable of showing any other expression.
"On the 20th of last month, I intercepted you in the underground Knockturn Alley. I gave you a deposit of eight thousand Galleons to break Bellatrix Lestrange out of Azkaban. Remember? I promised you another seven thousand Galleons upon completion."
Ares lowered his eyelids slightly. He lifted his hand and slowly, steadily placed the potion on the table, his eyes never leaving the man's cold face.
"On the 20th of last month, in the underground Knockturn Alley, I did indeed reach a secret agreement with a wizard," Ares said softly, a refreshing smile playing on his lips. "But that person was obviously not you."
Of course Quirrell never showed his face to Ares. Those explanations about Bellatrix Lestrange were just to trick her into cooperating and not making too much noise.
"I was wearing a black cloak then... and so were you, weren't you?" the middle-aged man said impatiently. "But I knew your identity beforehand. I followed you down there—yes, you never saw my face... I overlooked that. It's normal you don't recognize me."
"Oh, a black cloak?" Ares said lightly. "The one playing dumb isn't me, sir, it's you. You should understand that if such an exquisite Disillusionment Charm couldn't block my sight, an ordinary cloak certainly couldn't either."
The man fell silent, as if he hadn't expected to be seen through.
"Hmm... You are very sharp, Delfino. I didn't expect you to see through it—but this is a good thing. After all, if the matter we are cooperating on were exposed, we'd both be finished."
Sniffling slightly, the middle-aged wizard looked at Ares and said, "Yes, actually, I took Polyjuice Potion before coming here."
"Oh, really?" Ares looked amused, as if he'd heard a joke. "I thought a wizard of your high magical power would understand that Polyjuice Potion isn't omnipotent either."
Woo-woo—
The steam engine's whistle let out a heavy, high-pitched shriek that pierced the clouds, drowning out the monotonous clack-clack of the wheels on the tracks.
The train entered another tunnel. In the cold darkness, the carriages remained filled with the laughter of young wizards and witches. But unknown to them, whether they could reach their destination safely was now a matter of great uncertainty.
They also didn't know that on this very train, their future Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was working hard to increase their chances of survival.
Daylight returned, illuminating the last compartment and the two faces within, neither showing any unusual color.
Suddenly, the blond wizard did something strange.
Under Ares's focused gaze, he raised both hands, covered his face, and rubbed it vigorously. Then—
"Oh, haha. You are much harder to deal with than I imagined, Ares."
Just like that, the ice on the wizard's face melted, replaced by a kind, amiable smile.
The cold posture of confrontation he had deliberately assumed vanished. He leaned back against the window comfortably, his tone intimate, as if he were an old friend of Ares.
"Honestly, I've always known my acting skills aren't great, but I thought my lies would at least fool you for a little while. Now it seems you saw through me at a glance?"
"Actually, your acting was superb," Ares complimented. "I was almost fooled by you."
"You really know how to comfort people, Ares," the middle-aged wizard chuckled huskily, shaking his head.
The atmosphere in the compartment seemed to have become pleasant, but in reality, beneath this pleasantness lay a cold, taut tension.
"May I see this potion of yours, Ares?"
The middle-aged wizard made no attempt to hide his curiosity. His clear blue eyes fixed on the half-cup of red potion in front of Ares.
"Naturally," Ares said, raising his hand with a flourish. He watched as the wizard picked up the potion and sniffed it lightly, nostrils flaring.
"Would you like to try some? I have more."
"Oh, I don't think that will be necessary." The wizard put down the potion and looked at Ares with a beaming smile. "I wouldn't dare claim I could digest such a potent poison like you can."
He saw through the potion's effects just by smelling it.
Ares's heart sank slightly, but his smile remained unchanged.
"Then... forgive my presumption, sir. I think we are having a lovely chat, but one question remains."
Ares bowed slightly, his manner polite.
"You see, you know who I am. You know my name is Ares Delfino. But so far, I still don't know how to address you?"
"That is indeed a very serious question, Ares."
The middle-aged wizard nodded solemnly, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.
Ares thought he would come up with another excuse to evade the question, but instead—
"Larry Gaspard."
The wizard's eyes were full of smiles. "Don't be a stranger, Ares. Just call me Larry."
Larry Gaspard...
Ares's eyes flickered. Dumbledore's words echoed in his ears:
The goblins omitted... a merchant... fought bravely... against Quirrell?
Quirrell... worthy of a brave fight?
"So," Ares breathed softly, his gaze burning as he looked at the man who called himself Larry Gaspard. "Where is the wizard who actually made the deal with me?"
"You mean Quirinus Quirrell?"
Larry Gaspard rubbed his stiff shoulder and leaned back against the seat, a regretful smile appearing on his face.
"He's dead."