A Christmas Invitation

"What? You're saying Professor Dumbledore let Will read books from the Restricted Section?" At the Gryffindor table early the next morning, Hermione's hushed voice rang with surprise. She didn't doubt Professor Dumbledore. He was the greatest wizard of the century, after all.

But Will had actually won Professor Dumbledore's approval. And according to Harry, the teachers had all turned a blind eye to what he was doing. Had the gap between her and Will really grown that wide?

Hermione felt deflated. She hadn't slacked off for a moment these past few months. She'd studied diligently and worked hard to earn points, afraid her marks wouldn't be good enough. Yet after only a few months, Will had been given permission to enter the Restricted Section.

"Blimey, George and Fred told me there are loads of Dark Magic books in there. Maybe he's already started learning Dark Magic!" Ron said indistinctly through a mouthful of bacon and eggs.

"Ron! If Professor Dumbledore lets Will read those books, that proves Will isn't that sort of person." Hermione felt Ron had always been hostile and prejudiced toward Will. She thought he was projecting his prejudice against Slytherin onto him.

Ron raised his hands in surrender and went back to eating in silence.

The group wasn't nearly as close as they 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 he was well-disposed toward Will too.

She glanced toward the Slytherin table. Only Sylvia was there. Will was absent again.

"Sylvia, where's Will?"

Sylvia was eating an apple when Hermione came over, drawing curious looks from a few students.

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

Ever since Will's last talk with Dumbledore, he had stopped sealing the Room of Requirement off completely. Sylvia, Hermione, and Neville could all enter.

"I heard..." Hermione told Sylvia what she'd heard from Harry, stressing that Will had been allowed to read books from the Restricted Section.

"I know." Sylvia barely reacted. "He told me ages ago, so I leave him alone when he's reading."

Hermione felt an inexplicable pang of defeat. Apparently, she and Ron had been the last to know.

In the Defence Against the Dark Arts office...

"I am deeply disappointed in you!"

Quirrell lay slumped over his desk as a cold voice sounded inside his head. It belonged to the Dark Lord he served, and every word made Quirrell's head hurt worse. It was sheer torture.

"Oh, Master, I... I truly couldn't kill Harry Potter yesterday. Dumbledore was right there in the kitchen..." Quirrell pleaded, his voice close to tears. "I was terrified he'd discover you."

"That is not what I mean. I ordered you to drink Unicorn Blood, yet all you found were a few hairs the creature had shed..." Voldemort's voice was cold and hollow, like his soul.

"Master, give me a little more time. I swear I'll catch a unicorn for you and drink its blood." Quirrell forced out the promise through a splitting headache. Only then did Voldemort end his torment.

"Beware of Dumbledore," Voldemort warned.

"I will, Master. I'll have a Christmas present for you." Quirrell wiped away his sweat, panting.

"Hurry. I won't use your body for a while."

Voldemort meant it. He hadn't expected his contact with Will to provoke such a strong reaction from Dumbledore. Truth be told, the sight of Will had stirred his interest. The boy was so much like his younger self: just as hungry for knowledge, just as ambitious, even just as handsome. He merely lacked some of Voldemort's humility.

To him, Will was practically a copy of himself as a child.

He certainly kept a close eye on Will, but he hadn't expected Dumbledore to watch the boy even more closely. Voldemort soon came to terms with it, though. Of course Dumbledore would pay attention to someone so like him.

For now, he genuinely had no intention of getting too entangled with Will. His resurrection mattered more. Once he returned, he could make Will a young Death Eater and teach the boy himself.

Voldemort had yet to realize just how deeply he was fixated on becoming a professor.

Quirrell, meanwhile, was delighted to hear it. Every time Voldemort used his body, pain tore through him from head to toe.

"Great Master, I would sacrifice anything to pave the way for your return."

Quirrell laid on the flattery. What he really wanted was to get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone as soon as possible, so he wouldn't have to touch that cursed blood again.

Perhaps he should go back tonight and see if that enormous dog had let its guard down. There was no harm in trying his luck. What if fate was on his side?

Will slept until noon. Luckily, he had no classes that day. He strolled to the Great Hall for lunch, still mulling over how to investigate the Definition of Distorted Knowledge.

Perhaps he needed to read more material on the Potion Conversion School. He might be able to tease out a pattern.

He absently stirred the risotto on his plate with a spoon as Sylvia approached, holding a sheet of parchment.

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

Sylvia sat beside Will and pulled a plate of salad toward herself.

"What is it?"

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

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

"Maybe she thinks you're not Pure-blood and you'll contaminate her. You know how obsessed Greengrass is with blood purity." Seeing him put the list aside, Sylvia asked, "You're leaving for Christmas? Would you like to visit my family?"

"Wouldn't they throw me out? Isn't the Lestrange family Pure-blood too?"

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

"Corvus?"

"The Corvus bloodline," Sylvia explained. "The Lestrange family has three branches: Corvus, Radolphus, and Cyril. The Radolphus branch are extreme blood purists. They'd definitely throw you out. Our Corvus branch has always been easy to get along with. A great-great-aunt of mine was even considered unlike a Slytherin by lots of Slytherins. She was 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, whom Grindelwald had burned to death.

No wonder Sylvia wasn't like most Slytherins. Her family's outlook probably had something to do with it.

"There are some things I need to deal with at home. If I can, I'll come." Will's answer brought a smile to Sylvia's face...