I Told You Quirrell Was Bad News

"There's no time!" Ron stared anxiously at Harry as his broom flung him about in the sky. "We have to stop Snape!"

"It's Quirrell!" Eliana stamped her foot. "Did you listen to my analysis? It's Quirrell!"

"Fine, it might be Quirrell," Ron said reluctantly. He still thought Snape was the villain. "Either way, we have to stop them!"

Hermione sprang up from the stands and ran off, wand in hand.

One look at her raised wand told Eliana what she intended to do. She hurried after her through the crowd. "Don't set Professor Snape on fire! Set Quirrell on fire!"

"I'll go talk to Professor Snape. That'll interrupt him too. We'll split up—it'll be faster. Harry can't hold on much longer."

You know perfectly well whether Harry's the real reason you're doing this.

Hermione snorted, but said nothing. Clutching her wand, she charged toward Quirrell, her robes billowing with anger.

Eliana sprinted to the row behind Snape. She was about to call for him to turn around when, on a whim, she glanced at Hermione.

Hermione's face was grim. A string of blue flames burst from the tip of her wand.

With a startled cry, Quirrell clutched his enormous turban and leaped to his feet.

Eliana noticed at once that Harry seemed to have suddenly regained control of his broom. He struggled back onto it. Snape was still staring at Harry and muttering, but Harry's broom was growing steadily more stable.

Eliana let out a huge breath. For all her confidence earlier, she had been a little unsure herself.

She liked Snape a great deal, but honestly, she had thought he might be capable of cursing Harry.

That was the dungeon's serpent king for you—every time he opened his mouth, venom came out.

But Merlin was her witness: Snape really was a good man. He had been chanting a counter-curse. She hadn't even dared invent that possibility earlier.

She was the only student who would believe in Snape, yet even she had harbored a flicker of doubt about him.

She touched the costly bottle of Essence of Dittany in her pocket and felt absolutely awful.

Eliana's devotion to him surged.

Tears in her eyes, she rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a miniature carving she had made while practicing: a walnut. She tapped it with her wand, then gave Snape's robes a sharp tug.

Snape was grimly working to steady Potter's wretched broom. Things had just begun to improve, and he hadn't even had time to breathe a sigh of relief when suddenly he couldn't breathe at all.

Someone had yanked his collar hard downward and back. The force sent stars bursting across his vision.

Was the person behind the curse so brazen that, with the plan thwarted, they had dropped the pretense and attacked him directly for getting in the way?

Protecting his throat with one hand, Snape whipped around, his wand already sliding into the palm of the other.

He found himself facing Eliana's tear-streaked little face.

"You had better have a reason for this, Ritchie." He forced down his irritation, the words squeezed through his teeth.

"Professor Snape, you really are a good person!"

His tone didn't seem to frighten Ritchie at all. For some reason, she looked even more moved. "You're even worried about whether something's wrong with me! I knew it—you're all bark and no bite! So many people misunderstand you!"

Snape: ???

It was as though someone had shoved a rotten rat into his mouth. He felt thoroughly sick.

"Speak plainly, Ritchie." His habitually sour face looked as if someone had painted it black. "Or has the water in your skull still not drained—"

Before he could finish, the little Mandrake, whose emotions seemed as abundant as the water in her head, threw herself at him and hugged him tight.

Snape: !

He went rigid, like a fresh statue caught in a Basilisk's gaze.

She thrust something round into his hand and said through her tears:

"Professor Snape, everyone misunderstands you so badly. You're Hogwarts' best professor!"

Snape: ???

He stared in shock as Eliana wiped her tears and ran back to Gryffindor.

Snape began to wonder whether the person who had cursed Potter's broom had decided to curse him instead. How else could he explain what had just happened?

In the middle of a Quidditch match, Eliana had run up to him crying, declared him Hogwarts' best professor, then fled without another word?

He absently raised the object she had pressed into his hand. It was a walnut with Hogwarts Castle carved into its shell. The castle was exquisitely detailed; there was even a Whomping Willow carved along one edge. Snape's gaze fell to the bottom of the walnut.

To my best teacher—Severus Snape.

Hah. Instead of working on her Potions, she spent all day making things like this until she'd addled her brain.

Snape gave a cold laugh and shoved the walnut into his pocket.

Best?

Had Flint's Quaffle hit her in the head when he threw it at Gryffindor earlier?

Flint was forever coming to him for permission slips to use the pitch. What on earth had he been practicing? His aim was so terrible it was an embarrassment to Slytherin!

Snape irritably began blaming Flint for the whole thing.

By the time Eliana returned to the Gryffindor stands, the match was over. Harry had spat the Golden Snitch out of his mouth, and Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin by a hundred and ten points. The place was in an uproar.

They decided to take refuge at Hagrid's Hut.

"It was Quirrell!" Eliana said triumphantly. She had picked a scapegoat at random and found the real culprit, all while defending her favorite professor. She couldn't have been more pleased. "He was cursing Harry!"

"Was he?" Ron still sounded unconvinced.

"It was Quirrell," Hermione said, disappointed. She had always thought Professor Quirrell was a decent teacher, mild-mannered despite the strong smell of garlic.

Apparently, he smelled bad and was rotten inside too!

"After I set Quirrell's robes on fire, Harry's broom stopped bucking. Ellie hadn't done anything yet, and Snape was still chanting, but Harry's broom kept getting steadier."

"I told you, my eyes don't lie!" Eliana said, planting her hands on her hips. "I knew Quirrell was no good! Headmaster Dumbledore took me shopping at the start of term, and Quirrell ran off the moment he saw him. If that isn't a guilty conscience, what is? Everyone else came up to shake Dumbledore's hand!"

"You said Snape was trying to steal something, but I bet it was Quirrell, and Snape tried to stop him. That's why the three-headed dog bit Snape!"

She slapped a thigh in exasperation. "Why couldn't that dog tell friend from foe? Three heads, and not a working brain between them?"

Ron sprang up with a yelp. "Eliana, I know you're worked up—but that was my thigh!"

Eliana kept her eyes straight ahead. "Slapping my own would hurt."

Ron almost laughed in disbelief. "And I'm made of wood, so I can't feel pain?"

"Fluffy is not a brainless dog! She's a clever little fluffball!" Hagrid set down his teacup with a thump. "And how do you know about Fluffy?"

"The dog's called Fluffy—you know her. No, she's yours!" Eliana's mind was working fast. "You called her clever, so you like her. But she isn't with you, and you aren't worried. You know where she is and what she's doing!"

Harry caught on too. "What is she guarding?" he asked urgently.

"That's none of your business. It's top secret!" Hagrid cut him off sharply. "Professor Quirrell wouldn't want to kill a student, either. You're imagining things."

"I don't believe that. One look at him and I could tell he was bad news. Hagrid, I think you haven't thought hard enough."

Eliana folded her arms and snorted.

"You're wrong!" Hagrid looked furious. "Forget about it. It's none of your concern. Forget Fluffy and what she's guarding. That's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"

Realizing he had let something slip again, he broke off abruptly and grew even angrier.

Eliana leaned close to Hermione's ear and whispered, "We should ask Hagrid more questions. His mouth's like a wide-open jar."

Hagrid's mouth might have been wide open, but his ears worked just fine. Fuming, he threw them all out.