A Christmas invitation

"What? You said Professor Dumbledore let Will read books from the Restricted Section?" Early the next morning, at the Gryffindor table, Hermione's hushed voice carried a note of astonishment. She did not doubt Professor Dumbledore—after all, he was the greatest wizard of the century.

But Will had actually managed to get Professor Dumbledore's approval, and according to Harry, all the teachers tacitly permitted what Will was doing. Had the gap between them really grown that wide?

Hermione could not help feeling discouraged. Over the past few months, she had not dared slack off in the slightest. She had studied diligently and worked tirelessly to earn points, terrified that her grades would not be good enough. Yet in just a few months, Will had already earned the teachers' permission to enter the Restricted Section.

"Blimey, George and Fred told me there are loads of books on dark magic in the Restricted Section. Maybe he's already started dabbling in it!" Ron said indistinctly, his mouth stuffed with bacon and eggs.

"Ron! If Professor Dumbledore lets Will read those books, that proves Will isn't that sort of person." Hermione felt that Ron always harbored a certain hostility and prejudice toward Will. She believed he was projecting his prejudice against Slytherin onto him.

Ron raised his hands in surrender and went back to eating quietly, saying no more.

Their relationship was nowhere near as close as it had been in the original story. Will had saved them on Halloween night, so Hermione regarded Ron as no more than an ordinary friend. She got along somewhat better with Harry, since Harry was also well disposed toward Will.

She glanced toward the Slytherin table, but only saw Sylvia. Will was absent again.

"Sylvia, where's Will?"

Sylvia was eating an apple when Hermione came over to her side, drawing curious looks from several students.

"Will? He's still asleep in the Room of Requirement. He seemed really tired."

Ever since his last conversation with Dumbledore, Will had stopped completely sealing off the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Sylvia, Hermione, and Neville could all enter.

"I heard..." Hermione told Sylvia what Harry had told her, emphasizing that Will had been allowed to read books from the Restricted Section.

"I know," Sylvia replied without much of a reaction. "He told me ages ago, so I leave him alone when he's reading."

For no clear reason, Hermione felt a surge of frustration. So she and Ron had been the last to find out.

Inside the Defence Against the Dark Arts office...

"I am utterly disappointed in you!"

Quirrell lay slumped over his desk as a cold, sinister voice rang inside his head. It belonged to the Dark Lord he served, and every word made his head hurt a little more. It was sheer torture.

"Oh, Master, I... I really couldn't kill Harry Potter yesterday. Dumbledore was in the Kitchens..." Quirrell defended himself in a tearful voice. "I was terrified. I was afraid he would discover you."

"That is not what I mean. I told you to drink unicorn blood, yet all you found were a few hairs a unicorn had shed..." Voldemort's voice was cold and hollow, just like his soul.

"Master, give me a little more time. Master, I will catch a unicorn for you and drink its blood." Quirrell made his promise through the agonizing headache. Only then did Voldemort stop torturing him.

"Be careful of Dumbledore," Voldemort warned.

"Master, I will. I will present you with a Christmas gift." Quirrell panted as he wiped away his sweat.

"Make haste. I will not be using your body for a while."

Voldemort truly meant it. He had not expected his contact with Will to provoke such a strong reaction from Dumbledore. To be honest, the sight of Will had stirred his interest. How much that boy resembled his younger self: just as hungry for knowledge, just as ambitious, and even just as handsome, though rather less humble.

In his eyes, Will was practically a replica of his childhood self.

He was indeed paying close attention to Will, but he had not expected Dumbledore's interest in the boy to exceed even his own. Still, Voldemort soon accepted it. Faced with someone so like him, it was only natural that Dumbledore would pay attention.

He genuinely had no intention of getting too involved with Will for the time being. His own resurrection was what mattered. Once that was accomplished, he could make Will a young Death Eater and become his professor himself.

Voldemort had yet to realize just how deeply his obsession with becoming a professor ran.

Quirrell, meanwhile, was delighted to hear Voldemort's words. Every time Voldemort used his body, he was wracked with pain that felt as though he were being torn apart.

"My great Master, I will sacrifice everything to pave the way for your return."

Quirrell lavished him with flattery. In truth, he now wanted nothing more than to get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone as soon as possible, so he would not have to expose himself to that curse.

Perhaps he should go again tonight and see whether that big dog let its guard down. There was nothing wrong with trying his luck. What if he really was destined to succeed?

Will slept until noon. Luckily, he had no classes that day. He strolled leisurely to the Dining Room for lunch, still pondering how to explore the "definition of distorted knowledge."

He thought he might need to read more material from the Potion Conversion School. Perhaps he could identify some patterns in it.

He was absentmindedly stirring the risotto on his plate with a spoon when Sylvia approached, holding a sheet of parchment.

"You're awake? Here, this is for you."

Sylvia sat beside Will and reached for a plate of salad.

"What is it?"

"The list of students staying at school over Christmas. Sign it if you're staying. Greengrass asked me to give it to you. She said she didn't want to have any contact with you."

"Oh? Why?" Will set the list aside. He would be leaving school for Christmas.

"Maybe she thinks you'll contaminate her because you're not a pure-blood. You know, Greengrass is almost obsessed with blood purity." Seeing Will put the list aside, Sylvia extended an invitation. "You're leaving for Christmas? Would you like to visit our home?"

"Won't I get thrown out if I go? The Lestrange family is a pure-blood family too, isn't it?"

"Of course not. Our Corvus branch doesn't discriminate against anyone," Sylvia countered.

"Corvus?"

"The Corvus bloodline," Sylvia explained to Will. "The Lestrange family is divided into three branches: the Corvus bloodline, the Radolphus bloodline, and the Cyril bloodline. The Radolphus branch are extreme believers in pure-blood theory. They would definitely throw you out. Our Corvus branch has always been easy to get along with. A lot of Slytherins thought one of my great-great-aunts wasn't like a Slytherin at all. Yes, the one who married Theseus Scamander, Leta Lestrange."

Will understood. Theseus Scamander was Newt Scamander's older brother.

Sylvia's great-great-aunt must have been Leta Lestrange, who had been burned to death by Grindelwald.

No wonder Sylvia was unlike the average Slytherin. Her family environment probably had something to do with it.

"I have some things to take care of at home. If I can, I'll come." Will's words brought a smile to Sylvia's face...