The corridor was quiet, candles burning along the walls. As Tom passed the Potions classroom, he heard voices inside.
Not the troll's voice—human voices. He stopped and pressed his ear to the door.
"It should have run off already." That was Quirrell's voice.
"Are you sure?" That was Snape's voice.
"I'm sure. I checked."
Quirrell's footsteps approached the door. Tom slipped around the corner of the corridor and pressed himself against the wall.
Quirrell emerged from the Potions classroom, staggering as he walked. His purple turban was crooked, his face still pale, and sweat covered his forehead.
Tom stepped out from around the corner and watched Quirrell's back disappear at the end of the corridor.
There was a shoeprint on Quirrell's hand—Tom's shoeprint. The soles of his shoes had a distinctive pattern; they were custom-made by Madam Malkin's Robe Shop.
In all of Hogwarts, only his shoe soles had that pattern. Quirrell had not noticed. There was only one dirty shoeprint on his hand, as though he had stepped in mud.
When Tom reached the entrance to the common room, he stopped and dispelled the Disillusionment Charm. His body slowly changed from transparent to solid, as though rising out of water.
He pushed open the door. Inside the common room, the little snakes were still discussing the troll.
"Professor Quirrell is way too cowardly," Zabini said. "A single troll scared him unconscious."
Nott turned a page in his book. "There probably won't be anyone worse than him in the future."
Tom sat down on the sofa. "Interview him next year."
Zabini froze for a moment. "Interview him?"
"Ask him what it feels like to be scared unconscious by a troll."
Zabini laughed, and the corner of Nott's mouth curled upward slightly.
Daphne poked her head over from the side. "Where