After listening to Quirrell's words, Snape remained silent for a moment before speaking again. The harshness in his tone had lessened somewhat, but it still carried an undeniable certainty. " Dark Magic Defence Class is a very important class and needs to be taught with care. Even if there is a need for sparring or practical exercises, let the boys try it first."
He paused here, tapping the air lightly with the tip of his cane, "For example, Herman Horace from our college would be more than happy to be an experimental subject, no, more like an example for teaching demonstrations."
Quirrell glanced at Snape with a puzzled look, probably wondering how this first-year student had offended his headmaster, but he readily agreed, "No problem, I'll definitely give Herman a good beating."
He quickly went through next week's schedule in his mind, and had already begun to plan how to include this student, who had been specifically chosen by his dean, in the classes. At the very least, he had to satisfy Snape before the student recovered from his injury.
As the two were talking, three pairs of eyes were watching them through the gaps between the pillars in the shadows of the far corner of the corridor.
The Gryffindor Common Room was much quieter around 11 a. m. than during the day.
The fire in the fireplace had burned down to a pile of dark red embers, with only a spark or two occasionally popping out, jumping briefly in the dim light before going out.
Neville peeked half his head out from the stairwell of the boys' dormitory, looked around, and confirmed that, as he had expected, it was empty.
Everyone had already been coaxed back to their dorms by the dutiful Prefect Percy, and Percy himself was nowhere to be seen, probably having gone back to his room to study all night.
Neville tiptoed out, wearing a dark gray robe, but it was clearly not the one he had worn during the day; the sleeves and hem were shorter, as if he had grabbed the wrong one in his haste. But at this point, no one cared about such things.
He walked to the fireplace and waved towards the stairwell on the other side.
Hugo soon came out as well, wearing glasses and clutching a small notebook. The open page had a few crooked lines drawn on it, which looked like a sketch of the castle corridor he had drawn from memory.
Ron was the last to come out, carrying a small bag. She tried to walk on tiptoe, but her movements were still slightly more noticeable than the two before her.
When the three met up, Neville glanced at the bag in Ron's arms and asked in a low voice, "What did you take?"
Ron squatted down and spread her bag out at her feet. Inside were three pairs of drab gray cloth shoe covers and three pairs of dark, round-framed sunglasses.
The lenses were so black they were almost opaque; they didn't look like something a sighted person would wear, but rather something a blind person would.
Ron explained in a low voice, "I asked George and Fred for it; it's for nighttime outings."
Silent shoe covers, they make no sound when you walk, even Filch's cat can't hear you.
There are also night vision goggles, so you can see the corridor clearly after the lights are off, without having to use an oil lamp to reveal your whereabouts.
Hugo picked up a pair of sunglasses, looked at them closely, and then held them up against the dim light of the lounge. The lenses were so dark that they completely obscured the tapestry on the opposite wall.
He hesitated for a moment and said, "This... will it work? Won't it make it even harder to see?"
Ron frowned and took the sunglasses back from him. "If you don't believe me, then don't wear them."
Hugo quickly waved her hand and apologized, "I'm sorry, I was just checking the effect."
Neville chimed in from the side, "Thank you, Ron. You're so thoughtful."
Ron blushed slightly, then bent down to hand out the three pairs of shoe covers and sunglasses to everyone, pretending not to notice Neville's gaze.
After fully armed, the three slipped out through the door of the common room.
The Fat Lady in the portrait was dozing off when she was awakened by the sound of the portrait being pushed aside. Annoyed, she muttered, "I'll definitely tell McGonagall that you little rascals don't sleep at night!"
Hugo subconsciously apologized, but was quickly pulled away by Ron.
As Ron walked, she whispered, "Don't worry, my brother said the Fat Lady won't complain. She's just a gatekeeper; she doesn't care about nighttime strolls unless a professor asks."
The three walked quickly down the corridor.
The dirty shoe covers made no sound when they stepped on the stone pavement, but the sunglasses were clearly not as effective as they had expected; they did have night vision, but it wasn't strong.
In the unlit areas of the corridor, you could see the outlines of the walls and floor, but everything was shrouded in an eerie green hue, as if you were inside the belly of a giant firefly, with everything appearing to glow with a dim, fluorescent light.
However, there are also advantages: the field of vision is much farther than usual, and eyesight seems to have been greatly improved.
They wandered around the castle for ages.
The corridors of Hogwarts were already complicated enough during the day, but at night, with most of the candles extinguished and the staircases repositioned, they were completely unfamiliar to everyone.
Hugo tried several times to identify the direction by referring to her sketch, but every time she reached a fork in the road, she found that the path did not match.
Neville had no choice but to rely on his intuition and choose a direction that didn't seem too unfamiliar.
Halfway through, a deep, echoing roar came from some distant floor.
The sound wasn't very close, but it carried far in the empty castle, like something throwing a tantrum in the distance before quickly stopping.
Ron was startled and instinctively lunged forward, grabbing the back of Hugo's robe with both hands, causing her sunglasses to be knocked askew.
Hugo was pulled so hard she almost fell backward, staggering a couple of steps before regaining her balance. She quickly whispered reassurance, "It's okay, they're far away from us, they're not coming for us."
The three waited a while, making sure the roar didn't start again, before continuing on their way.
After finally turning a corner past a familiar tapestry, Neville recognized the corridor ahead.
Just as he was about to quicken his pace, he suddenly raised his hand and waved it behind him, signaling the two behind him to stop. Hugo and Ron stopped at the same time and crouched down in the shadows in the corner.
Neville peered forward along the edge of the stone pillar, then pulled back and pointed ahead to the two of them.
Looking in his direction, at the corner of the corridor, in a brightly lit place, two figures stood facing each other.
One was black, the other gray; one was tall and thin like a taut string, the other was slightly hunched over, as if it weren't standing straight.
Snape stood there, the edge of his black robes casting a wide shadow on the ground, his wand raised, its tip pointing towards the person opposite him.
Quirrell stood two steps in front of him, his injured arm hanging at his side, the fabric of his sleeve soaked in blood, reflecting a dark sheen in the candlelight. Blood dripped from his fingertips onto the ground, seeping into a small patch of dark red in the cracks of the stone slabs.
Snape's wand moved forward half an inch, the tip almost touching Quirrell's chest. His posture was stern and cold, leaving only one conclusion for anyone witnessing this scene from afar:
He was interrogating me about something, or threatening me about something.
Quirrell kept his head down, his shoulders slightly hunched, and his lips were moving, as if repeating the same words over and over again.
Neville, peering from behind the stone pillar, felt his heart race.
Snape was indeed keeping an eye on Quirrell. It seems that his capture last night was just a coincidence; his real target was Quirrell.