"Mr. Baron."
As he approached the Slytherin Common Room, John lifted his Disillusionment Charm.
Rather than feeling embarrassed at being caught wandering around at night, John was curious about what the Bloody Baron was doing there.
Gazing out into the night, the Bloody Baron looked lost in thought.
"It's you, the Slytherin who sneaks out."
The Bloody Baron was a terrifying ghost, with hollow eyes, a gaunt face, and robes spattered with silvery blood.
Peeves feared nothing and no one except this ghost. Even hearing his name was enough to make him tremble.
John could tell that the bloodstains on the Bloody Baron carried a story. Though curious, he had no intention of reopening someone else's wounds.
Apparently, the Bloody Baron knew someone had been sneaking out regularly, but not who.
John nodded. The Bloody Baron looked him up and down, his expression turning a little strange.
After all, anyone would find it strange to see a wizard carrying a greatsword on his back. The Bloody Baron asked, "What do you go out for?"
"To practice. I think I need to work even harder to be worthy of Slytherin."
A little flattery never hurt. At John's words, the Bloody Baron shook his head. "You work very hard, but I think you're more like a..."
Gryffindor.
He left the sentence unfinished. The resemblance really was too strong.
The Bloody Baron had lived in the time of the four founders. After failing to win the love of Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena Ravenclaw, he had killed Helena. Overwhelmed by grief and guilt afterward, he had taken his own life.
Thus, he had met Gryffindor's founder, Godric Gryffindor, another man obsessed with swordsmanship and combat. He had even commissioned the goblins to forge him a silver sword.
But the silver sword they produced was so perfect that the goblins grew greedy, forcing Godric Gryffindor to fight them.
The outcome was obvious. Though the goblins kept claiming that Gryffindor had stolen their sword, not one dared come to Hogwarts to reclaim it.
Rather than Salazar Slytherin, John was the very image of a young Godric Gryffindor.
Merlin's beard.
Who knew whether that old hat had gone wrong? It had actually sent a copy of Gryffindor into Slytherin.
"I came to tell you that there are other things about at night, dangerous things. Be careful."
Pulling himself from his thoughts, the Bloody Baron realized it had been a long time since he had spoken so much.
Something stirred in John's mind, and he thought of Quirrell.
According to the Marauder's Map, Quirrell often left Hogwarts.
The Bloody Baron was the most unusual of the four house ghosts. He could turn invisible.
He must have discovered something, which was why he had come to warn him.
"I understand, Mr. Baron. I'll be careful."
John accepted the ghost's kind warning. Once back in his room, he eagerly took out the Marauder's Map.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"
A map of Hogwarts appeared on the parchment. Besides professors like Snape who prowled around catching students, John spotted Quirrell's name.
Quirrell's name skirted the patrolling professors and Filch, heading out of Hogwarts Castle.
"Where's he going?"
John was baffled. Where could Quirrell be going, leaving the castle in the middle of the night?
Unfortunately, the map only covered Hogwarts itself. It could not show more distant places, such as the Forbidden Forest.
"Could he be going to the Forbidden Forest?"
After thinking it over, John decided that unless Quirrell was leaving Hogwarts altogether, there was only one place he could be heading: the Forbidden Forest.
Many magical creatures lived in the Forbidden Forest, including werewolves, centaurs, and pure unicorns.
"When the Bloody Baron said it was dangerous, did he mean Voldemort?"
The thought of Voldemort heightened John's sense of danger.
This second Dark Lord might not have wielded influence across all of Europe as the first had, but Voldemort had no limits.
When it came to his own interests, Voldemort had no sense of decency or shame. He would not feel the slightest guilt even about using the Killing Curse on a baby.
If Voldemort had possessed even some of the first Dark Lord's dignity, John would not have had to be afraid even at Hogwarts.
"No. I still need to get stronger!"
Placing Big Ears over Tom's eyes, John refused to pin his hopes on some elusive prophecy.
Who knew whether the prophecy was even real? Besides, it wasn't as though no one had ever died at Hogwarts.
October 31, Charms.
The sweet scent of roasted pumpkin filled the corridors. In class, the students sat in pairs, listening to Professor Flitwick explain the key points of the Levitation Charm.
John could clearly see Goyle's and Crabbe's Adam's apples bobbing as they swallowed. His own partner was Malfoy. Enemies really did have a way of crossing paths.
Malfoy stayed tense the entire time, as though afraid John might suddenly pick up his wand and stab him in the eye.
Professor Flitwick stood on a chair temporarily raised with a stack of books, offering pointers in his squeaky voice.
"Now, don't forget that subtle wrist movement we've been practicing!"
"Swish and flick. Remember, swish and flick. Pronouncing the incantation correctly is very important, too. Never forget the wizard Baruffio..."
As head of Ravenclaw and professor of Charms, Professor Flitwick was undoubtedly excellent.
He seemed eager to break every spell down into tiny pieces and feed them to his students bit by bit. He was a very good teacher.
John had heard that Professor Flitwick had even won a Dueling Tournament championship in his youth. His ability was beyond question.
Once Professor Flitwick finished explaining the key points, the students began practicing.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Malfoy's wand nearly poked John in the face, yet the feather on the desk remained motionless. John was speechless.
With great patience, he offered a gentle word of reassurance. "Malfoy, if you poke my hand again, I'll stick your wand in your ear."
The threat made Malfoy stiffen, but his pride as a pure-blood aristocrat would not let him bow to a Mudblood. Defiantly, he said, "Then you do it, if you're so good."
"Sorry, but I really can."
John shrugged, elegantly drew his wand, and pointed it at the feather on the desk.
With a swish and a flick of his wrist, he said, "Wingardium Leviosa."
Under everyone's gaze, the feather rose into the air.
Guided by John's wand, the feather floated toward Professor Flitwick and settled gently and precisely into his hand.
"Wonderful!"
Flitwick clapped excitedly, his voice growing even shriller. "Look! Mr. Wick has succeeded with perfect elegance. Ten points to Slytherin!"
Over on the Gryffindor side, Hermione had already practiced and had been brimming with confidence.
She had been certain she could perform the Levitation Charm.
But she had been paired with Ron and could barely stand his wild wand-waving. Just as she was about to cast the spell correctly, John beat her to it.
Watching that precisely controlled feather left Hermione feeling a little down, and she happened to have the perfect outlet for those feelings.
Unfortunately for Ron, Hermione's emotionally charged instructions left him in a thoroughly foul mood.
After class, in the crowded corridor.
Ron complained to Harry, "No wonder everyone can't stand her. She's a nightmare."
Hermione overheard him and felt even more hurt. She had only been trying to help Ron, yet he resented her for it.
Too upset to wait for John, she wanted to find somewhere she could have a good cry.
Weaving through the crowd, she bumped into Harry.
Harry noticed that she was crying. Having already changed his opinion of Hermione, he felt Ron had gone too far.
"I think she heard you."
Ron had seen Hermione's hurt expression too, but his boyish pride made him stubborn. "So what? She must have noticed she hasn't got a single friend."
"Ron, you shouldn't have said that," Harry told him seriously.
With even his best friend speaking up, Ron could only lower his head and walk away sulkily. He muttered, "Fine. She does have a friend, actually. John."
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