Voldemort's Host

More than a month passed in the blink of an eye, and Christmas Eve arrived.

Today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was shared by Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

Professor Quirrell was still wrapped in a thick purple turban, holding a large Chameleon as he haltingly explained the theory behind Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Though his manner of speaking was rather distinctive, this class was already quite interesting compared to the dull Astronomy and History of Magic lessons.

History of Magic in particular. No one knew what the school had been thinking when it hired a ghost to teach.

Though ghosts had far more experience than the living, the ghost responsible for teaching was not exactly quick-witted. He could wander off-topic halfway through a lesson.

Professor Quirrell did not seem to be in very good condition. Compared to usual, he looked even frailer, as though he had only just recovered from a serious illness.

That was the professor's private business, and Aaron had no interest in finding out what had happened to him. But one thing did catch his attention.

When Professor Quirrell paced over to Aaron's side of the classroom, Abei, who had been dozing on the desk, suddenly stood up.

Standing on all fours atop the desk, it bared its teeth at Professor Quirrell, its eyes fixed firmly on his turban.

"M-Mr. Gaius, w-what's wrong with your cat?" Quirrell asked nervously, though his body involuntarily took a step back.

Aaron immediately picked Abei up and said awkwardly, "Professor, my cat has been rather worked up from eating garlic lately, and the smell on you... is really a little too strong."

Even Aaron did not believe that excuse. Defense Against the Dark Arts was held twice a week, and they had already had at least a dozen lessons since school began. Abei had never acted like this before!

More importantly, his cat had never eaten garlic.

"Is... is that so?" Quirrell swallowed as he looked at the fierce cat that might pounce at any moment. "I'm terribly sorry. Should I keep my distance?"

"That wouldn't be appropriate, would it?" Aaron said with a wry smile. He moved Abei to the other corner of the desk. "It would be better for it to keep its distance."

As the distance between them widened, both man and dragon seemed to return to normal. Abei still held a trace of hostility, while Aaron inadvertently caught a glint in Professor Quirrell's eyes.

That icy gaze, laden with intense killing intent, made him shudder instinctively.

Holy shit! Professor Quirrell is definitely not simple. At the very least, he isn't as cowardly as he looks. Or rather, his cowardice is all an act.

There's definitely something wrong with him. Otherwise, he wouldn't make Abei, with its holy attributes, hate him so much.

Suddenly, Aaron seemed to think of something. Could Professor Quirrell be Voldemort's host?

The possibility was not nonexistent. In fact, it was highly likely.

At that thought, Aaron felt sweat soak his back. He immediately adjusted his expression. If his guess was correct, he absolutely could not let Quirrell notice anything unusual about him, or he might have to face Voldemort ahead of schedule.

Voldemort's goal was to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and he certainly would not reveal himself easily before accomplishing that goal. But it was better to be safe than sorry!

Fortunately, Quirrell had focused most of his attention on the harmless-looking Abei and did not pay much attention to Aaron. He completely failed to notice the rapid changes in Aaron's expression over those brief two seconds.

Aaron's Mental Fortitude was fairly strong. Until class ended, he acted perfectly "normal" and left the classroom without incident.

That scared me to death. I thought Quirrell was going to keep me behind, Aaron thought with lingering fear, though inwardly he felt immensely relieved.

As long as Quirrell had not become suspicious this time, Aaron was confident that he would not reveal any flaws the next time he faced him.

For now, it was better to let nature take its course.

The afternoon class was Charms Class. After a long period of foundational study, Professor Flitwick had finally decided to teach the first-years a spell.

Inside the classroom, Gryffindor and Slytherin students sat on opposite sides. A white feather lay on every desk, while Professor Flitwick, who was about the size of a dwarf, stood atop a tall stack of books and lectured.

"As a wizard, one of your fundamental abilities is levitation—the ability to make objects fly.

Have you all received your feathers?"

Hermione immediately raised her feather high, making sure Professor Flitwick could see it clearly.

"Very good."

"Now, don't forget the wrist movement we've been practicing. Swish, then flick. Everyone, together." Professor Flitwick drew his Wand as he spoke and demonstrated for the class.

"You must pronounce the incantation clearly: Wingardium Leviosa. Now, practice!"

In an instant, the students throughout the classroom began waving their Wands and chanting at the feathers in front of them.

Aaron smiled and shook his head. He had learned these simple spells years ago. Back when Abei was still an egg, he had even used this Levitation Charm to fly a kite with it.

With a light flick of his Wand, without even speaking the incantation, the pure white feather floated up and slowly rose to the ceiling, where it came to a stop.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and quietly watched the feather hovering in midair. While marveling at Aaron's talent, they could not help feeling a little discouraged.

"Excellent! Everyone, look here. Mr. Gaius has succeeded," Professor Flitwick said excitedly.

The others began trying even harder. Ron chanted the incantation, but he had clearly forgotten the wrist movement. He kept wildly swinging his Wand, making the air whistle.

"No, stop! You're going to poke someone's eye out!" Hermione, seated beside him, immediately interrupted. "Besides, you said it wrong. It's Leviosa, not Leviosar."

"You're so smart, so why don't you try it?" Ron retorted indignantly.

Hermione said nothing more. She simply picked up her Wand and flicked her wrist gracefully. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The next moment, another feather rose into the air.

Ron was dumbfounded. Pouting, he slumped over his textbook.

The third person to succeed was Draco Malfoy, but his gaze at Hermione was full of unwillingness. Though he had succeeded third, the gap between him and Aaron and Hermione was still somewhat large.

The two of them had both succeeded on their first try, while he had needed no fewer than five attempts.

"For your first time learning this spell, you've done quite well already," Aaron comforted him.

"But she..."

"Draco, you're quite talented.

But Hermione spends every moment outside of eating, class, and sleeping reading books. If you could do that too, you wouldn't be inferior to anyone."

Having received an answer that was barely convincing, Malfoy said nothing more. He silently turned around and began guiding his two lackeys in practicing the spell.

A blinding flash suddenly burst forth, followed by a huge bang that startled everyone. Professor Flitwick nearly fell from his stack of books.

Everyone looked over at once. Simon sat frozen in his seat, his face blackened with soot and his hair standing up like a hedgehog's, as though he had been scared senseless.

One look at the feather on the desk, now reduced to ashes, made it easy to guess what had happened.

His deskmate, Harry Potter, had also been caught in the blast. Half of his face had turned black as well. "We need another feather over here, Professor Flitwick."

Seeing this, Aaron silently shook his head. Simon's talent for Charms was truly abysmal. If there were ten explosions in a classroom, at least five of them would probably be caused by him.

After class, Ron walked down the corridor with an unhappy expression, saying sarcastically to Harry, Simon, and another Gryffindor boy, "It's Leviosa, not Leviosar! What a know-it-all. I can't stand her. No wonder she doesn't have any friends."

Just then, Hermione hurried past Ron with her books in her arms, bumping his arm as she went.

Her expression was not very good, and there was even a faint sob in her voice.

"I think she heard you," Harry said.

"So what? She doesn't have any friends anyway," Ron said resentfully.

"Ahem." Aaron appeared behind them at some point. "That isn't right. At the very least, I'm her friend.

"And here's a little advice: if you don't want to lose Hermione as a friend, go apologize to her.

"You should apologize to her as well. Speaking badly about people behind their backs is not a good look."

"Why should I?" Ron's gaze shifted uneasily, but when he saw the Slytherin robes Aaron wore, he became much more defiant. "I didn't say anything wrong. Besides, what happens in Gryffindor is none of your business, Slytherin."

"Oh! So that's what you think," Aaron sneered. "I was going to try to ease the tension between you and Malfoy, but it seems I was overthinking things."

With that, Aaron left without looking back. Harry wanted to stop him, but after opening his mouth, he could not say anything.