You-Know-Who's Disguise Exposed

This Saturday night's excursion involved only three Gryffindor Little Lions.

At least, that was how it looked on the surface.

But the four bowls of tomato and egg noodles in the kitchen proved otherwise.

While the twins focused on eating their noodles, Hermione kept staring at the fork floating across from her.

It speared up a steaming bundle of noodles, gave them a shake, then rose slightly higher before gradually disappearing as though the air had absorbed them.

She sighed in disappointment. "Congratulations."

The wand floating opposite her tapped the air, and Vincent gradually began to appear.

"I heard you can cover your hands and feet now?"

Hermione glanced at the twins. "I'll learn it as soon as I can."

Healthy competition between friends could not only deepen their bond, but also push them forward.

"Quirrell still hasn't made a move?"

"No."

The Marauder's Map showed him in his office.

"Old Bat is brewing potions again." George stared toward the dungeons. "Could it be some poison that kills you the instant it touches you?"

Vincent recalled the minor changes he had made to the fourth-floor room and could not help regretting that he had failed to bring everything back.

The potion Snape was brewing was probably made from the things Vincent had taken before.

"I made an appointment with Cedric tomorrow." Fred set down his bowl. "He said he'll cooperate with you on the paper."

Hermione twirled a bundle of noodles around her fork. "What about the other grades? There are less than three months left until the holidays."

"Starting this month, we'll all be very busy." George slumped miserably in his chair.

The first Quidditch match of the school year would take place in early November. Wood had already declared that training would intensify, and that they would hand Slytherin a crushing defeat they would never forget.

"You all? Including Vincent?"

Hermione eyed the three of them suspiciously. "Don't tell me all of you are preparing for the Quidditch match?"

"Yeah." Fred hurriedly covered his mouth. "George and I are."

"I'm a Chaser." After saying that, Vincent lowered his head and resumed eating his noodles.

Since she had guessed it, he had no intention of continuing to hide it.

"You?" Hermione opened her small mouth in surprise. "But first-years aren't allowed to bring broomsticks."

Vincent swallowed his noodles and looked up. "Professor Dumbledore agreed."

"So you have a broomstick?"

"Yes. It's called Rascal Rabbit."

Her mouth twitched. "That name suits you."

"Thanks for the compliment."

No wonder McGonagall's essay had to be finished before the end of the school year.

"The professor said to keep it secret."

Hermione was not angry.

Fred and George were both on the school team, so they had not deliberately kept it from her.

"Wait, Harry went with you that day..."

The three boys exchanged looks.

This clever little witch had already guessed the truth.

She frowned. "Is Harry a Seeker?"

"Yes."

"I remember Slytherin's Seeker is seventh-year Terence Higgs..."

Her meaning was obvious.

Harry, small and slight as he was, probably could not compete with him.

"You need to give him extra training."

Vincent, under her serious gaze, nodded solemnly.

Whether Quirrell dared make another move or not, they had to strengthen Harry for the sake of House points.

The castle dungeons, the Bat Cave.

Snape stirred the cauldron before him counterclockwise three times, then extinguished the fire and portioned the potion into five small bottles.

His expression was extremely excited, as though Slytherin had just won its seventh consecutive championship.

"I told you, you can't run..."

Muttering to himself, he opened a locked drawer.

He added a drop of the red liquid, preserved for nearly half a month, into one of the bottles.

Its color began to darken, and it gave off a pungent odor.

Snape leaned closer for a sniff, and the smell of garlic shot straight into his head.

When it came to finding people, the Potions Master never failed.

With just a tiny piece of someone from their body, Polyjuice Potion could perfectly transform him into You-Know-Who.

"What a disgusting smell." He put down the bottle in distaste.

This Polyjuice Potion was bizarre in both appearance and smell.

If not for the need to hurry, it would never have turned out like this.

Snape seemed to struggle with himself before picking up the bottle again.

Though the garlic smell had practically confirmed it, could that timid professor really be You-Know-Who?

"Disgusting..."

The moment his lips touched the mouth of the bottle, his entire face twisted.

It smelled pungent, and tasted even more nauseating.

The moment he pinched his nose and took a sip, all his features began to twitch slightly.

His greasy long hair tangled into a mess and shrank back into his head;

His distinctive hooked nose gradually shrank;

His height and build rapidly swelled as well.

Snape opened the wardrobe and stood patiently before the mirror.

A ray of light in the pitch-black room shone upon his gleaming bald head.

"Quirinus Quirrell..."

Just as expected, You-Know-Who, who had infiltrated the office twice, was none other than the timid Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Wearing that face, Snape sneered, his gaze seeming to pierce the ceiling.

The Alder Wand and Nonverbal spells had both checked out. There was no possibility that Batman had beaten him.

Thinking of Batman made his smile grow even colder.

The students loved calling him that, especially the Gryffindors, who often called him Old Bat. It was not as if he did not know who they meant.

"Heh heh heh—"

A laugh dark enough to chill the soul echoed throughout the office.

Snape had set his sights on Quirrell,

But Quirrell had set his sights on the Forbidden Forest.

A gloomy room somewhere on the castle's third floor was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.

Its decor changed every year, simply because anyone who held the position could only remain at Hogwarts for one year.

Either they went mad by the end of the school year,

Or they mysteriously disappeared during the holidays,

Or they resigned before the new term began.

In any case, over the past several decades, no one had truly lasted until a second year.

Quirrell lay on his back in bed, unable to sleep.

Tomorrow was Voldemort's deadline.

No matter what method he used, he had to kill a living Unicorn and drink its fresh, steaming blood to gain a terrifying curse.

"Quirinus, you need to keep a lower profile—"

"My master, do you suspect someone knows?"

"Your blood—"

Quirrell was confused. "Doesn't brewing Polyjuice Potion take a month?"

"I know Snape's abilities. He altered many potion recipes when he was a student—"

Terror appeared on his face. "Master, do you think he already knows?"

"I look forward to your performance—"

He understood what Voldemort meant.

Even if he had been exposed now, he was merely a thief stealing potions.

No matter how deep Snape's hostility ran, he was not a ruthless maniac like Batman, who shot to kill.

"Master, I'll pin everything on him."

All Quirrell needed was to fabricate a lie about encountering Batman at the start of term, and he could instantly clear himself of all suspicion.