During the morning Defense Against the Dark Arts, the Little Lions and Little Snakes were all distracted.
The banquet held before Halloween is one of the annual traditions of Hogwarts.
Most students are very much looking forward to this.
After all, none of them had as much fun as those six.
Seeing that the students below would chat with him whenever they had the chance, Quirrell simply announced that class would end soon after class.
This move drew cheers from the crowd.
Vincent certainly knew why he did that.
Tonight's banquet will Great Hall.
Make a big fuss and attract attention, then the Headmaster's Office will be easily accessible.
"What's there to look forward to? My dad's birthday parties for me were way more extravagant than this—"
The only voice that could be so unpleasant could come from Slytherin.
"Let's ignore him," Ron continued telling Harry the amusing stories he had heard.
"Fred and George said they suggested to Professor Dumbledore last year that they invite a Skeleton Dance Troupe to perform for everyone this year."
"Really? We can see it tonight?"
"Maybe so. I heard that you have to book two years in advance to invite them."
Just as Harry was about to express his anticipation for the banquet, Draco, who was on the other side of the aisle, suddenly burst into loud laughter.
"If it were my dad, there would be no need for any reservations!"
The sky has cleared up.
The rain has stopped.
Young Master Malfoy felt he was invincible again.
Vincent thought that keeping a low profile for two or three days would continue until the end of the school year.
As it turns out, this spoiled child needed a more profound lesson than before.
"Nobody's asking for your opinion, Malfoy!" Ron said, pouting.
Mr. Weasley has been keeping a close eye on Old Malfoy lately, and as a result, he's become much more assertive.
"You country bumpkins who've never seen the world," Draco retorted sarcastically. "Can your family even afford to hire them?"
Ron blushed and was about to retort when Harry grabbed his sleeve.
"Forget it, he's not worth us using our House Points to insult him back."
He glanced at Quirrell, who was lost in thought on the stage, and said, "You're right, Harry."
He doesn't know Scourgify; he probably hasn't even brushed his teeth since leaving home.
"Pfft—" Hermione quickly covered her mouth.
Her family owns a dental clinic, and judging from the foul smell coming from Draco's mouth, it was clearly caused by not cleaning his mouth properly.
"Weasley, do you dare say that again?!"
"You've definitely never brushed your teeth, Malfoy."
Draco, his face contorted in a menacing expression, glanced at the podium. Seeing that Quirrell didn't seem to care about classroom discipline, he decided not to keep a low profile any longer.
"Ha, a bunch of paupers!" His tone was incredibly irritating. "Have you Weasley become so poor that you've resorted to using Muggle tools?"
Do you even know what an automatic toothbrush is? You poor bastard!
Hermione had something to say about this.
Muggle don't have automatic toothbrushes, but they do have electric toothbrushes.
Just as she was about to provide some background information and offer a retort, Quirrell suddenly stood up.
"Gryffindor disrupts classroom discipline, deduct 30 points."
The undisguised smile on his face made Vincent immediately decide to use three big machines that night.
"Professor, where is Slytherin?"
"Wayne, continue studying."
It's no wonder they've shared a bad reputation; their friendship is even more blatant than Snape's targeting.
Vincent finally saw through this man.
Could the Sorcerer's Stone be obtained so easily?
Innocent!
In the afternoon Flying Class, Madam Hooch had the students from both houses fly in pairs to 500 feet.
Draco came over arrogantly to provoke them again.
"Coward Potter, do you dare team up with me?"
Harry gripped the Sweeping Six Stars in his hand tightly. "Malfoy, I'll make you admit defeat."
Vincent had been observing from the shadows, landed.
Both sides were using flying brooms generously sponsored by the Malfoy family, so the outcome of this match was predictable.
Sure enough, before Madam Hooch could even blow her whistle, Malfoy made a false start.
Before the Gryffindor could even utter their curses, Potter launched himself into the air the instant the whistle blew.
At such a fast speed, they caught up with their opponent in the blink of an eye.
"Oh dear!" Vincent exclaimed with a regretful expression, "It seems Malfoy will only be able to eat dust in the dust!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
Seamus and Dean were particularly excited.
"With this level of skill, can Muggle fighter jet even leave dust in its wake?"
"Of course not." Vincent stretched out his right thumb and forefinger, making a tiny gap.
"The difference between them is like the difference between us and Professor Dumbledore."
"Wow!" Neville exclaimed, his mouth agape. "So Malfoy was just bragging?"
"It's obvious." Ron was even more excited than if he had won when he saw Harry fly back across the finish line.
"So why did you only draw a tiny gap?" Alfred discovered the blind spot.
"That's because—" Vincent paused, feigning seriousness, "I'll keep you in suspense for now."
A flood of donations poured in.
Without exception, they all rolled their eyes.
Even Madam Hooch turned around and rolled her eyes.
After Draco, his face pale, flew back, he heard Gryffindor's smirking laughter coming from the other side.
He lost to Vincent in a wizarding duel, and then lost to Harry in a flying duel.
But he was not discouraged; in fact, he was even thinking of turning the tables.
In any aspect?
He really didn't believe that there was such a thing as an omnipotent person in the world.
At the same time, Quirrell quietly slipped out of the castle.
He entered the Forbidden Forest cloaked in black, looking around as if searching for something.
Dumbledore's magic could not stop him, nor could the Acromantula that launched the attack out of nowhere.
"Quirinus, one Troll is not enough to cause a riot—"
The Alder Wand pointed lightly at the Centaur approaching.
"Master, I know what to do."
Quirrell arrived in a very remote forest and found a Troll with gray skin, only the size of a palm, under a tree hole.
"Ah—Little Bean Brain Idiot."
He held the Troll in his palm, saying, "You won't be lonely tonight."
"Huffing and puffing—"
He nodded seriously as if he understood the sound the Troll made.
"Your task is to guard the stairs and not let anyone except me through."
"Huffing and puffing—"
This shrunken Troll must have been trained in human language.
The way it excitedly raised the small wooden stick in its hand seemed to be expressing its excitement.
Quirrell's gaze, hidden beneath his cloak, swept back and forth across the surroundings.
The Forbidden Forest is home to many magical creatures, but most of them are not particularly strong in combat.
"Quirinus, use the Graphorn in the mountains—"
"But master, it is the offspring of the last pair of Graphorn in the Wizarding World."
Newt Scamander Scamander?
It wasn't him who defeated Grindelwald, but Dumbledore.
"I understand, Master." Quirrell headed toward the deepest part of the Forbidden Forest.
Voldemort were to be resurrected, would he still be afraid of Dumbledore?