Is There Something Wrong with Your Brain?

Professor McGonagall had no time to keep scolding Harry.

She stepped over the Troll's body and walked into the bathroom.

At the far end, Hermione lay motionless on the floor.

Professor McGonagall choked back a sob and quickened her pace, her voice trembling along with her body. "Miss Granger, Miss Granger?"

"Professor, I'm here." Hermione spoke up, and her voice didn't sound all that weak.

Professor McGonagall let out a sigh of relief. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right, I just have a bit of a headache and my chest hurts. Harry won't let me move," Hermione said flatly.

Professor McGonagall was relieved. "That's good. I'll take you to the Hospital Wing now."

"If you feel unwell at all, be sure to tell me."

She waved her wand, and Hermione floated into the air, carefully guided through the doorway.

"Mr. Potter." As she left the bathroom, Professor McGonagall glanced at Snape, her tone hurried. "Gryffindor loses ten points for your recklessness."

Hermione's nose stung, and she almost burst into tears again.

"But that was impressive." Professor McGonagall changed her tune. "Excellent Transfiguration. No first-year has ever managed anything like that."

"For your courage, determination, and ability, Gryffindor earns twenty points."

Snape's expression changed. He furrowed his brow and said coldly, "Professor McGonagall, isn't that a little too lenient?"

"That will only encourage Potter to act even more recklessly!"

"I think it would be best to give Mr. Potter a detention as well. I'll personally see to it..."

"Thank you, Professor Snape." Professor McGonagall politely declined. "But Mr. Potter is in my House, so I think it's best if I handle this."

"Get a good night's rest. I'll see you in my office tomorrow, Mr. Potter."

She hurried off with Hermione.

"Try to keep your head on straight next time." Snape walked up to Harry. The blood and grime covering him made Snape find him a little more bearable. "You're reckless. You survived by sheer luck."

"You're not much better than that Troll."

"Perhaps you should have had a hand or an arm crushed by the Troll, like Miss Granger..."

Harry cut him off, meeting Snape's gaze. "Better yet, it could have torn my face off and gouged out my eyes."

Snape's gaze turned dangerous. He stared at Harry like a snake eyeing its prey.

"Perhaps I should have been firmer and asked Professor McGonagall to hand you over to me." Snape's voice grew quieter, but his tone became even more menacing.

Harry walked over to the Troll's body. "Professor Snape, which parts of a Troll can be used to brew Potions?"

Snape froze, looking at the small figure crouched on the ground.

When Snape didn't answer, Harry glanced back in confusion. "Professor?"

Their eyes met—Harry's amber catlike eyes—and Snape's thoughts snapped back into place. He curled his lip in disgust. "Its hair. Troll hair is the only part that's any use."

"Oh, its hair." Harry clicked his tongue, looking conflicted.

Such a huge creature, and only that tiny bit was useful?

He picked up the sword, cut off the Troll's head, then expertly gutted it and prepared to skin it.

The bloody sight made Ron turn pale, leaving even Snape a little puzzled. "Mr. Potter, what are you doing?"

"Have you finally lost your mind and started taking it out on the Troll?"

As he spoke, he glanced at Quirrell. "What you should be doing now is getting back as soon as possible."

Harry replied, "Its skin is tough and resists magic rather well. Maybe it could be made into a set of leather armor. I spoke with Professor Flitwick, and he said he'd help me get in touch with a master blacksmith. I haven't heard back yet, but there's no harm in preparing the materials ahead of time."

"Tch." Surprisingly, Snape didn't mock Harry for that. He glanced at Quirrell, then found a different angle to sneer at him. "I didn't expect you to be so skilled at dissecting things."

"I've already decided what I'll have you do if I catch you and give you detention in the future."

Harry looked at the Troll's foul-smelling entrails and asked again, unwilling to give up. "Professor, are none of its other parts useful?"

"Are your ears no good?" Snape scoffed. "Or did getting up close and personal with a Troll leave you with a brain like one, unable to understand human speech?"

"They have no effect at all. Perhaps you could eat them and savor that stench, then see if you can bring up last night's dinner."

Harry picked up the head and stood, turning to Quirrell, who was still sobbing nearby. "Professor Quirrell."

Quirrell's body trembled slightly.

"We're leaving. I think you'd better go check your classroom." Harry waved at Professor Quirrell.

Quirrell jolted and opened his mouth.

Ron also looked like he wanted to say something. He really didn't want to be in the same place as Snape right now. He was so frightened that he was trembling.

They left the first-floor corridor and entered the hall.

"All right, Potter, I'm not your babysitter." Snape stopped immediately. "Remember to bring your brain with you before you do anything next time."

"Thank you, Professor Snape. I have one more question for you." Harry tried to keep him there.

Snape lowered his raised foot and arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

"What's the password for Headmaster Dumbledore's office?" Harry asked.

Snape furrowed his brow and clicked his tongue. "Cockroach Clusters. You should have guessed. What else would he use for a password?"

With that, he flicked his robes and hurried away.

"Harry, I'm sorry. I forgot what you told me..." Ron began, his voice trailing off. Then he changed tack, gesturing wildly as he defended himself. "But I found out something huge. Really huge."

Without a word, Harry shoved the Troll's head and the Sorting Hat into Ron's arms. "We'll talk when I get back. I need to find Headmaster Dumbledore now."

Ron opened his mouth, clutching the two filthy objects, not knowing what to do.

"Once you get back, wash the hat for me. Consider it payback for what you did." Harry waved. "And find somewhere clean to put the head. I'll deal with it when I get back."

The Sorting Hat began grumbling. "Come back quickly. I have something to tell you too."

Harry raised a hand to rub his temples and nodded.

It was supposed to be a holiday.

So why did it feel like he was even busier?

He ran to Headmaster Dumbledore's office on the third floor, said the password, and went up the stairs to the seventh floor.

"Harry." Dumbledore looked surprised to see him. "What happened to you?"

"I got into a fight with a Troll." Harry waved a hand. "That's not important. You must have found something out, right?"

Dumbledore waved his wand and cast Scourgify, cleaning the blood and grime from Harry. "What did you say?"

"Quirrell. I mean Quirrell," Harry emphasized.

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow.

Harry arched one too. "Don't tell me you didn't even know Quirrell let the Troll in."

"I'm curious. How did you know?" Dumbledore invited Harry to sit, then waved his wand again and poured him a glass of milk.

Harry picked up the glass and took a sip. "His act was terrible. He supposedly got scared by the Troll, yet he managed to run all the way from the dungeon to the hall, tell you everything, and then faint."

"And there's no way he couldn't handle a Troll."

"He gives me a dangerous feeling. More dangerous than all the other professors. Only you are more dangerous than he is."

In Harry's estimation, the most dangerous person at Hogwarts was Dumbledore, followed by Quirrell, then Flitwick, McGonagall, and Snape, who were about equal. Sprout came next, just a little behind them.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It's an honor to be praised like that by a young man."

Harry frowned.

"All right, I did find out a few things." Dumbledore hesitated, watching Harry as his fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk. After a long pause, he continued, "I suspect Quirrell may have become Voldemort's lackey."

"You should kick someone that dangerous out of the castle," Harry said bluntly. "And isn't Voldemort already dead?"

"I've always suspected he wasn't dead." Dumbledore adjusted his glasses. "A powerful wizard, especially a Dark wizard, always has many ways of resisting death."

"As for... Quirrell."

"I'm afraid I can't kick him out."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

Dumbledore explained, "Quirrell was once a good student, an excellent Ravenclaw, and an excellent Muggle Studies professor. But he changed after the start of this school year."

"I thought his personality had changed because of certain things. It wasn't until today that I realized he was after the Sorcerer's Stone. Only then did I start to suspect that Voldemort might be controlling him."

"I'm the headmaster of Hogwarts. I can't abandon my dear students, even if he's already graduated."

Harry finished his milk and gently set down the glass. "So Voldemort possessed Quirrell?"

Dumbledore froze. "Why would you think that?"

Harry lifted his hair and pointed to his scar. "This. The Chosen One's symbol, a hero's scar."

"Symbolically speaking, it connects me to Voldemort."

"He's the only one who could make it react, right?"

"Ah, I should have thought of that sooner. I just kept thinking he was already dead."

Dumbledore picked up his teacup and took a sip, then countered, "Why couldn't Voldemort have cursed Quirrell, making your scar react?"

"It only happened once." Harry furrowed his brow. "If it was a curse, I've been in contact with Professor Quirrell many times, so it should have happened many times. But after the night school started, it never happened again."

"That night..."

"Voldemort must have been using Quirrell's eyes to spy on me."

With that, Harry stood without changing expression and nodded to show his thanks. "Thank you for your guidance, Mr. Dumbledore. It looks like I'll have to stay away from Defense Against the Dark Arts from now on."

Dumbledore called after him. "Wait, Harry. Don't you want to do something about this?"

Harry turned and looked at him, expressionless. "What do I need to do?"

"That's Voldemort." Dumbledore lowered his voice.

Harry sneered. "You know it's Voldemort, Headmaster Dumbledore. Everyone thinks I'm the Chosen One, the one who defeated Voldemort."

"But you know he's not dead."

"You also know I don't have any special ability to save the world."

"What makes you think that I—a mere first-year student—should have any ideas about dealing with Voldemort?"

"You're the headmaster, my dear Mr. Dumbledore."

"Should I call Professor Snape over? He's very good at insulting people. Maybe he can fix your brain."

Thank you all for your recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, and thank you to San Geng Wu Xing for the tip.

I've given it some thought.

How about this? There are currently 40 people who've invested. Once we reach 100, I'll immediately add another chapter.

And, shamelessly, before the book goes on sale, I'll add another chapter for every 5,000 Qidian Coins in tips.

If—just hypothetically—we get 10,000 in one day, I'll count it toward the total, since I still need to control the pace during the new-book period. I already feel like writing 9,000 characters a day is speeding things up.

If there's anything left over, I'll unleash it all at once when the book goes on sale.

I hope everyone will support me! QAQ.