Gryffindor Faction

Malfoy's rampage in the classroom and his furious roar in the corridor on the Seventh Floor had become the hot topic among the students over dinner.

"Don't be afraid, Quirrell."

Unusually, Professor McGonagall offered Voldemort some reassurance. "The Headmaster will protect you, and the professors will support you."

"Malfoy has nothing but filth and money. Don't be afraid of him—fight back." Professor Kettleburn spoke up beside them, drawing an irritated glare from Professor McGonagall.

"It would be best to be cautious, Quirrell. Don't cause any more trouble for now," Professor Flitwick said sternly. He felt his student had a serious tendency to act like a Gryffindor.

Faced with all the different opinions, Voldemort could only smile wryly and nod, but he still secretly gave Professor Kettleburn a thumbs-up.

"Professor, the Headmaster wants to see you."

Percy came to the High Table with some "good" news for him. "The Headmaster will stand up for you. I asked him, and he made his position clear."

"Thank you."

Voldemort smiled, finished the last bite of his meat pie, and rose from the dining table.

"Professor Quirrell is so cool."

Ron gazed at Quirrell as he left the Great Hall, admiration filling his eyes. "If I didn't know he was a Ravenclaw, I'd have thought he was a Gryffindor."

"He saved me," Harry said. "At Gringotts."

Everyone nearby turned to look at him in surprise, and Harry's cheeks flushed under their gaze. He was a shy child, as he had always been.

"Tell us about it, Harry. You've never told us before." The twins hurried over.

"Yeah, maybe we were wrong about Professor Quirrell. Tell everyone what happened, Harry." The other twin chimed in.

Even Hermione, who was usually proud and disliked talking to students who were bad at their studies, couldn't help shifting her chair a little closer to Harry.

"It... it was about that Gringotts robbery..."

Harry began to recount the story haltingly as the others listened with curiosity. Only the Weasley children let out the occasional cry of surprise, adding color to Harry's otherwise plain account.

Percy had come over long ago. At first, he had wanted to stop the commotion, but when he heard it was about Quirrell, he immediately fell silent and moved closer to listen.

"Just like today at noon, Headmaster Dumbledore suddenly appeared and put an end to everything. When I opened my eyes, the ground was getting bigger right in front of me."

Harry was getting a little worked up too. He lowered his head until he was looking straight at the tabletop.

"My face was this close to the ground, and then I heard someone shout, 'Harry Potter, Accio!'"

"That was the Accio spell," one of the twins said. "It must've been Professor Quirrell, right?"

"Yes, it was the professor."

Harry's cheeks flushed with excitement. "I felt something pulling me. Hagrid let go, and I flew out, straight toward the professor. Then the professor used the Levitation Charm to stop me."

"The professor is amazing!" Hermione blurted out.

Everyone turned to look at the proud little girl, leaving Hermione a little embarrassed. But she raised her chin as if nothing had happened.

Ron pursed his lips and looked at Harry. "He saved you twice, right?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded. "I was unconscious the first time, but Hagrid told me about it. The second time, I saw it clearly. And... afterward, the professor went shopping with me."

"You saw Malfoy there. You told me about it. Did the professor see him too?" Ron asked.

"Yes. I saw him talking to Malfoy's father through a window. Maybe they already had a grudge then. Maybe it was because of me, too."

Little Harry felt somewhat guilty. He really was a good kid, always inclined to blame himself for problems.

"There's no need to worry about the professor."

Percy suddenly spoke, making the twins jump. "Headmaster Dumbledore will protect him. He did nothing wrong. We all know that."

"Of course."

Unusually, the twins were the first to agree, which surprised Percy. His two brothers usually opposed whatever he said.

"Besides, Percy, the professor protected you too."

"Yeah, at least you're out of trouble now."

The twins' words immediately darkened Percy's expression. As expected, he couldn't get a single kind word out of them.

"Break it up. Anyone with an evening class should go to it, and the rest of you should stop making a mess in the Great Hall." Percy left after delivering that dark-faced order.

The twins watched him go, grinning mischievously as if they'd won some great victory.

"The professor will be all right, won't he?" Hermione suddenly asked in a quiet voice.

"Why do you care so much about him?" Ron cut in. "Trying to suck up to a teacher again?"

Hermione's expression darkened at once. She ate the last bite of her sausage, then got up and walked away.

The twins exchanged a look, then burst out laughing at Ron.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classes for Hogwarts first- and second-years were held that evening.

When Voldemort walked into the classroom, he mistook it for another Ravenclaw class. The children sat obediently, looking at him with eager faces. It was hardly very Gryffindor of them.

"Professor Quirrell, the Headmaster won't expel you, will he?" Harry Potter spoke first, voicing what all the children were thinking.

"Of course not."

Voldemort nodded firmly. "Using magic to punish students is certainly wrong, but if you've read History of Magic thoroughly, you'll know it's nothing out of the ordinary."

The little lions let out a sigh of relief. They had already heard about the Gringotts robbery from the twins, and it had filled them with admiration for Voldemort.

Whether he had fought against a crowd of dark wizards or saved Harry, both acts had been incredible and brave. Gryffindor children had always admired lone heroes like that.

"All right, first-years, head over to the other side. The Hufflepuff House sixth-year Prefect, Gabriel Truman, will teach you. I hope you'll treat him kindly, unlike the Snake House students."

Voldemort's words made the students laugh. Ron was the first to call out, "We won't do that!" and the others quickly echoed him.

Even Hermione, who usually kept to herself, smiled and called out her agreement.

"Truman, it looks like your class will be a little easier," Voldemort said to his teaching assistant. Then he called the second-years over to his side and got ready to teach.

The evening class passed in a relaxed and cheerful atmosphere. Voldemort was in an excellent mood. At the very end, he even took the time to explain the format and methods for writing essays.

Thanks to Hermione's questions, he gave all the first-years the same lesson.

"Professor Quirrell, could I ask you to teach us how to keep magic suspended in midair?" Hermione, a first-year, asked him in class.

It was an ability he couldn't teach, so Voldemort could only refuse with regret. But he explained the nature of magic to the children: everyone had their own magical traits, and they had to discover them for themselves.

Voldemort had some unique insights on the subject. He told the children about Dumbledore's Transfiguration, his own ability to suspend magic, and Snape's sharp magic.

These traits might be related to personality or a wizard's abilities, and they weren't fixed.

The children were somewhat disappointed that they couldn't learn the ability right away, but they were still captivated by this magical theory. Everyone wanted to become unique, and no one was an exception.

Even Truman, the sixth-year, thanked him after class, saying he had learned a great deal.

"As a professor, I'm happy to pass on what I know." Voldemort smiled as he said goodbye to Truman and the little lions.

On the way back to his office, students kept greeting him.

It seemed that the Malfoy incident had earned him the students' approval. Even some Slytherins respected him more now.

"The students' respect is secondary. What matters most is being accepted by the Gryffindor faction."

Remembering what Dumbledore had said over dinner, Voldemort could barely contain his excitement.

"Don't be afraid, Quirrell. As long as I'm at Hogwarts, you'll keep your position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You have my word."

When Dumbledore had looked at him seriously through his Half-moon Spectacles and made that promise, Voldemort had been overwhelmed by the thrill of infiltrating the enemy's ranks.

If the man sitting across from him hadn't been the greatest White Wizard, he would have dropped to his knees and celebrated on the spot.