The Bloody Baron had long since vanished through the floor of the headmaster's office, leaving behind a silence so thick and oppressive that it bore down on them like an anvil. Severus even felt like that poor coyote at the moment, dazed from the impact.
"Did you know?" he managed to croak, meeting the Headmaster's solemn expression. "Did you know the Dark Lord might be possessing Quirrell?" Dumbledore's eyes didn't twinkle with reassuring light. And Snape deflated into his chair, a chill racing down his spine and along his arms. The Dark Lord might be inside Hogwarts and Dumbledore knew.
"I had considered the possibility," Dumbledore said quietly.
"And yet you let him wander the castle, knowing full well that he might be a two-faced monster!?" Snape spat, rising to his feet. The thought of that psychopath near his students made his blood boil. He had been young and impressionable when the Dark Lord brainwashed him, and if he dared to do the same to any of his Slytherins he had another thing coming.
"What do you propose I do?" Dumbledore asked sharply. "Unless Quirrell confesses that he is allowing Lord Voldemort to possess his body, there is very little we can do to prove any of this." He rose to his feet as well and began walking toward one of his many bookshelves. "You and I are certain he let the troll in during Halloween and for what purpose, but as there are no eyewitnesses and no sustainable proof, contacting the ministry is pointless."
Snape grimaced. Firing a professor in the middle of the school year was difficult. It required that his contract be nullified. There had to be an investigation, evidence to support the necessity of immediate termination, and then Quirrell could even call a hearing in retaliation. Unless they could present solid evidence that Quirrell was working with the Dark Lord and that he was a threat to the students, there was nothing they could do. But this task was made doubly hard by the fact that the ministry didn't even officially acknowledge the Dark Lord's continued existence, and so any claim that Quirrell was working with him was likely to be completely disregarded.
"Are we sure this information is even true?" Snape asked glancing back toward the spot the Bloody Baron had vanished. He would be lying if he said the blood-stained ghost had his utmost trust.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "My dear Severus, do you think I would have related this information if I hadn't already put the Bloody Baron through every test I could think of?" He gave a tired sigh. "I know that he must have outside connections in order to learn most of this information, a network of ghosts if you will. But, and I'm sure you know this as well; ghosts tend to not interfere with the affairs of the living. Someone has influenced them to come to join the fight."
Snape blinked. He watched as the Headmaster pulled down a book from his shelf and returned to his desk. "Who?" he questioned after a moment's silence. Who on earth could have that sort of sway over the Bloody Baron?
"Well, unless you know anyone who refers to himself as the Warlock, I'm afraid his identity will remain unknown to us – which I assume is this Warlock's intention." Dumbledore sat back down and looked up at the Potions Master.
"Is it possible this Warlock is at Hogwarts?" Snape asked quietly. He had a sinking suspicion Merlin was involved in this. After all, he defeated the troll without a scratch, not to mention how Merlin seemed to know a lot more than he should.
"Possible? Of course," Dumbledore replied, but he waved his hand. "But unlikely. I do not suspect any teachers here of being this Warlock and the magical ability required to enchant a ghost is beyond even most seventh years."
"Enchant a ghost?" Snape repeated blankly, and Dumbledore nodded.
"Yes, though I pressured the Baron to reveal to me the identity of this Warlock, he was unable to divulge a name. He had been enchanted so that he could not betray the Warlock's trust. A clever idea, and a very difficult one to execute."
Snape was silent for a moment. His hands gripped the back of the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. Yes, defeating a troll was difficult but something that a third-year student could tackle. Snape suspected that Merlin had many tricks up his sleeve, but he was just a boy. A very nosy and intelligent boy, but capable of something like this?
Doubtful.
"What do you want to do, Headmaster?" Snape asked heavily, sinking back into his chair once more. "If it is true, if the Dark Lord is possessing Quirrell he will use the professor in order to steal the philosopher's stone. He knows all the obstacles and can prepare for them accordingly."
Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "That has crossed my mind, which is why this Christmas I will be adding some additional security for the stone. The Mirror of Erised could do with some use – it's been collecting dust for decades now."
Snape didn't feel reassured. "Headmaster, what about the students? He's teaching them."
"From a curriculum." But Dumbledore didn't seem completely reassured either. He shook his head. "Yes, removing Quirrell from his position as Defense professor would be preferable; however, I think keeping our enemy close will be safer in the long run."
Snape gave a stiff nod, but he wasn't sure he completely agreed.
He tripped over tree roots and rocks as he ran through the forbidden forest. Merlin was testing out another way to the clearing; worried that someone would notice the path he'd created and stumble upon the two dragons that had made their home in the heart of the woods. But the problem was that urgency drove him to haste and he neglected to watch where he put his feet.
"Korrizahar!" Merlin shouted as he caught sight of the clearing in the distance. There was a burst of orange flame in the darkness and the next moment he felt a brush of wind against his cheek. He came skidding to a halt and looked up, seeing the young black and red dragon hovering in the air, his wings making no sound as they beat against the moonlit sky.
"Merlin, what's happened?" the dragon muttered, settling upon the warlock's shoulder. The strong scent of wood smoke filled Merlin's nostrils and he sucked in the familiar smell. Merlin touched the dragon's head and started walking again, explaining as he did so. He told Kor about the troll on Halloween night, about how had he killed the creature and then discovered that Professor Quirrell had let it in. He grew more energetic and anxious as he got to the part about finding the three-headed dog and telling Snape that it was he who had killed the troll. As he finished explaining that Dumbledore was guarding a Philosopher's Stone in his school – and what that meant as Kor hadn't encountered that magical artefact yet – he took a seat on the fallen stump across from Aithusa.
Korrizahar was silent for a long moment when he had finally finished speaking. Then, and with another brush of wind, he took perch on a tree branch just above Merlin's head. "That was incredibly stupid of you," The dragon growled.
Merlin stared at him. "I had to tell Snape! He—"
"Not that, Merlin!" Kor interrupted with an exasperated roar. "You tipped Quirrell off! Just like you'll be keeping an eye on him, he'll be keeping one on you, now."
Merlin gaped. "I had to make sure."
"Then you shouldn't have spat it in his face!" Kor huffed, a curl of acrid black smoke rising from his nostrils. "I might be younger than you, but if someone came asking funny questions about you and then mentioned the Merlin of Camelot times? Well, I'd have reason to worry."
"I'm just a kid in his eyes," Merlin pointed out. He was taken aback by the Kor's response to this. Of course, now that he thought about it he had to admit that it had been a pretty stupid move. "He'll underestimate me."
Kor deflated. "Probably, but Merlin," and here he floated back onto Merlin's shoulder. "Just don't underestimate him."
Merlin nodded and patted Kor again, a sad smile on his face. "I'll do my best," he said and he flashed a cheeky smile. Kor smacked the back of his head with his tail.
"Ouch! You know you have spines right?" Merlin cried out, jumping to his feet and grabbing the back of his head.
"Me and every other monster out there." Kor nuzzled Merlin's neck and flew back to his branch. "Now get to bed, I won't have you sleeping through class on my account."
Merlin grumbled but he turned around anyway. "Suddenly I miss the cryptic advice I used to get." He dodged the small fireball that Kor shot at him and ran laughing back through the trees. No, that was definitely a lie. He liked Kor's advice much more than that old dragon's ridiculous riddles. Not that he'd ever tell the dragon to his face, of course.
It was midnight when he got back to the castle, and he painstakingly looked around every corner just in case Filtch and his cat were patrolling the halls – or worse, Snape. He slipped back into his dormitory and was just about to pull his hangings around his bed shut when, out of the darkness came the words, "Did you make a fire or something?"
Merlin fell off his bed with a thud. As he climbed up he shot, "You're supposed to be asleep!"
Draco pulled back the curtains of his four-poster. In the dim green light of their lake window, Merlin could see his friend raise an eyebrow. "Well, look who's talking," he drawled.
"I just needed to do something."
"Oh, so very informative. I know everything now," Draco said very sarcastically. "Did you go dance around a fire like a savage in the middle of the woods?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I did," Merlin quipped back, rolling his eyes and pulling the covers over his head. "Finally, you figured it out, I'm so proud of you."
"I was just joking," Draco muttered and Merlin was surprised by his subdued tone. He craned his neck to look over at him.
"So was I," he said slowly. "What's up?"
"Nothing," but the quickly spoken word did not reassure Merlin in the slightest.
"Right." Merlin hesitated, wanting to say something more but unable to find the words. He rolled over. "Well, goodnight then," and he pulled the covers around his four-poster closed.
He wished he could find out why Draco was acting so oddly. This was the first real conversation they'd had since Halloween. The first time Draco hadn't abruptly left during an exchange. Merlin frowned, but he had more important things to worry about. Namely, what he was going to do about Defense Against the Dark Arts because Kor was right, he'd tipped Quirrell off. So, should he skip the class or just pretend that nothing had changed?
His thoughts hadn't let him fall asleep for several hours. He'd barely closed his eyes when he was woken by the bustling of the dormitory getting ready for class. Merlin groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow. Their first class was DADA and he still wasn't sure what he was going to do.
"Merlin! Get up!" He felt a pillow crash through his curtains and hit his back.
"Just tell Quirrell I'm sick," Merlin grumbled, pulling the curtain back and throwing the pillow back at Blaise. "I hate his classes anyway." He almost wanted to suggest they all skip the class because the professor was only at Hogwarts because he was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone for his "Dark King" but he didn't think that'd go over to well.
"No, come on. Get dressed, you're already failing as it is," and Blaise threw his robes at him.
Glaring at him, Merlin dressed, making sure to look as haphazard as possible. "Why do you dislike Professor Quirrell, anyway?" Draco asked in an undertone. Merlin glanced at him. He was putting on his shoes, as though trying to appear only slightly interested.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Merlin said simply and he jammed his feet into his own shoes without bothering to untie them first.
"Try me."
"Oh look, we're going to be late," and Merlin grabbed his book bag from the floor as he walked out of the dormitory. Although warning Draco about Quirrell was something he wanted to do, what would happened if Quirrell found out? He might begin to panic that the entire school knew what he was planning – or, you know, silence the pair of them before they could tell anyone else. Merlin could handle whatever the professor decided to do – Draco couldn't.
To his relief, Draco didn't ask again when he caught up in the common room, although the expression he shot him was thick with unsaid words. Blaise talked the whole way to class, though Merlin barely paid attention. What should he do? Challenge Quirrell or pretend that he hadn't meant anything by his questioning the other day? Merlin shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in a very Snape-like manner.
Before he could actually enter the classroom though, Draco pulled him back. "I know you think you can't trust me," he muttered as Blaise and the others went ahead. "I think the number of secrets you have out-number my father's – and that's saying something."
"Draco—do we have to do this now?" Merlin asked glancing toward the door. "Class is about to start.
"Yes, we do." He took a deep breath. "I'm here to back you up, okay? Just," and here he took a step back, straightening his tie. "Just don't do anything stupid." And he brushed past Merlin into the classroom.
What?
Merlin stood there for several moments. What on earth had gotten into him? But funny enough, it helped Merlin make his decision and he walked into the classroom, taking a seat beside Draco who glanced at him with a nod. The best idea right now would be to pretend that he hadn't meant anything by his questions the previous day. He's just been an interested student, that's all.
And it seemed that Quirrell was taking the same route.
The professor taught the class as he always did – even if those light blue eyes flickered over to him with more regularity than normal. Merlin did his best not to betray any sort of contempt or suspicion toward the professor. He lay back in his seat and neglected his notebook as always.
"Is it just me, or has Quirrell actually realized you exist?" Blaise asked as they left the classroom. "I mean, he actually looked at you for once."
Merlin didn't miss the way that Draco quickly glanced toward him. "Maybe he realized that I'm the only one failing his class," Merlin suggested casually. Blaise snickered at him and lead the group toward the next class, charms. But they had only walked to the end of the corridor when Draco nudged Merlin's shoulder and pointed behind them.
"What—Hermione!"
Hermione Granger looked slightly out of breath. "Good, I caught you," she managed before sucking in a gulp of air. Merlin noticed that she had dirt beneath her fingernails.
"Did you just run here all the way from Herbology?" he asked. "You could have just waited until lunch you know."
Hermione glanced toward Draco and something strange passed between the two. Draco didn't snap any rude remarks toward her and he actually held her gaze. Merlin looked from one to the other and raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something important?" he asked shortly.
Hermione shook her head. "I just didn't want to mention it in front of the rest of your house."
"Obviously," Draco drawled with a tired sigh.
"Well, what's up?" Merlin asked and he flashed her one of his smiles. She hesitated a moment.
"Ron wants to have a word with you."
"What?"
"What does that blood traitor want?" Draco spat. He folded his arms and shot her a hard glare. "Wants to have a second round, does he?"
"No!" Hermione said quickly. "He just wants to talk." She shrugged helplessly. "I don't really know what about, but I think he's at least willing to hear you out this time." She bit her lip. "So, will you talk to him?"
Merlin exchanged a look with Draco. The blond rolled his eyes. "He knows you'll just collapse another bookcase on him if he tries anything."
"Or worse," Hermione mumbled and Merlin turned sharply to her. She seemed to pale slightly and she glanced toward Draco again before giving a nervous laugh. "So—so will you?"
There was definitely something going on between these two. It was almost as if they shared some sort of inside joke. Merlin scratched the back of his neck, wondering why that bothered him. "Uh, sure," he finally said. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. Where does he want to meet?"
"The library."
"Of course he does." Merlin sighed. "If Madam Pince sees us fighting again, she just might ban us both for life."
Hermione sniffed and raised her head. "Then you better not fight," and she turned tail. Merlin and Draco watched her go before looking at each other.
"So, are you going?"
Merlin shrugged. "She'll probably drag me there herself if I don't." A smile played about his lips and he turned and started walking again. Draco didn't say anything for several moments.
"Oh!" He paused a moment before setting off again at a faster pace. "First Quidditch game of the season this Friday! Maybe Weasley wants to make a bet with you or something."
Merlin grimaced. "I honestly don't care about Quidditch. At all." He didn't want to be anywhere near a broom again. Draco seemed to remember the incident as well and winced.
"You'll like it – the games are fun enough. Anyway, Slytherin is facing Gryffindor, so you have to be there to support your team, at least." He nudged him in the shoulder. "Or I'll drag you there myself."
Ron felt naked without his wand.
Hermione had taken it from him but he would claim that he'd given it to her. No man would ever admit that a girl had beaten him. He sat in the back of the library, twiddling his fingers. She'd told him that Evans would show but a small part of him almost wanted the kid to stand him up. This had been impulsive on his part after all.
He didn't even know what he was going to say.
Ron felt horribly conflicted toward the Slytherin. Both his brothers and Hermione seemed to think that Evans was different from the other Slytherins. And sure, he'd seen him stand up for Neville on more than one occasion but Evans was also a friend with that racist prat, Malfoy. How could someone be both at the same time – one of them had to be a lie. And it was obvious to him that Hermione was going to continue being his friend.
He just wanted to see what the fuss was about.
Ron heard him before he saw him. Evans had apparently clipped the bookshelf and came around the corner massaging his arm. He came to a pause in front of the table that Ron was seated at, looking uncertain. "Uh, hey," he said.
"Hey." Ron wanted to cringe. The awkward atmosphere settling on them was unbearable.
"Should I—" Evans gestured toward one of the chairs.
"Er, sure."
Evans sat down.
Ron took a deep breath. "Look, first of all, I'm sorry about last time. I shouldn't have hit you."
"Well, I'm sorry about the bookcases."
Ron refrained from rolling his eyes. That cheeky smile irritated him to no end, it was so Slytherin. "And," he continued with effort. "I suppose you can't be all bad if you stuck up for Neville."
Merlin narrowed his eyes. "But?"
"But," Ron repeated. "I still don't trust you." He saw Evan's shoulders deflate slightly. "But," he said again and he sighed. "Hermione seems to. So, I'll just say this, if you hurt her you're going to regret it."
Ron didn't know any curses yet, but he would master them all if Evans hurt his fellow Gryffindor. Okay, it was really more of a bluff. He was practically rubbish at the moment. And for some reason, he had the feeling that Evans was just pretending to be – he could remember how the boy had collapsed those two bookcases. He knew Evans was more powerful than him – not that he'd admit it. And yeah, there was this weird calm feeling that he got from Evans when he was with him – almost as if he could trust him with anything – but he refused to fall under whatever spell he had going for him. He just wanted to make sure Hermione didn't get hurt.
Or his brothers.
"Ron," Evans said and he felt weird when the Slytherin addressed him by his first name. "Hermione's my friend too." And he gave a very small smile.
"She's not my friend," Ron said quickly, and Evans raised an eyebrow.
"Well, in any case, you don't have anything to worry about." The Slytherin got to his feet. "Good luck at the match, by the way."
Ron blinked. "Uh, you too?" He said but it sounded like a question. He'd never heard that from a Slytherin before. Evans smiled and then left just as quickly as he had come. Ron frowned and sat back in his chair, thinking. What was he even doing? Hermione wasn't his friend and he didn't really like her – well, he definitely liked it when she gave him her notes. But, he wasn't her keeper. Ron shook his head.
"So, what was all that about?"
Ron jumped. Hermione emerged from among the bookshelves, twirling his wand in her fingers. She looked smug and cheerful and Ron was certain that she'd listened in to his private conversation. "It's rude to eavesdrop!" he snapped and he snatched his wand back from her hands. He stuffed it roughly into his inside pocket.
Hermione watched him for a moment. "Do you think he's a good guy?"
Ron glanced sharply up at her. Why did that question feel so loaded? God, it wasn't like his opinion even mattered so why was she pretending it did? He knew that she'd keep on hanging with that snake even if he said that he hated him and that he was going to ruin her life. But, to be honest, he didn't think that Evans would do that. The kid, if anything else, did seem to genuinely care about Hermione.
"He's—" Ron grumbled, "okay."
But Hermione looked like he had just told her that Evans was the most amazing person in the world. Girls were so weird.
"Let go of my arm already, will you?"
"I told you, I will drag you to the Quidditch match."
"Yeah, okay but we're here now, so let go." Merlin wrenched his arm free from Draco's grip, his mood sour. He had been looking forward to sleeping in. Which, meant he wouldn't get up until lunchtime but no, Quidditch had to start earlier than that. Merlin munched on the piece of toast he'd managed to snatch from the Great Hall and then grimaced when he realized he'd forgotten to put any jam or butter on it.
"This sport doesn't even make sense," he grumbled as Madam Hooch walked onto the field, carrying the box of balls.
"And why not?" Blaise shot from his other side. "Quidditch is a fantastic game."
"It can last months. That's just stupid."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, because you're such an expert on games."
Even if Merlin had wanted to reply his words would have been drowned out by the roar of the crowd. The two teams walked onto the pitch. Merlin could just barely see Terrence down there. He was the seeker, apparently. Merlin thought he looked pretty good, the Gryffindor seeker was someone he'd never met in his life and looked terrified.
And then the match began.
Merlin had no idea what was going on. There were just too many players and too many balls. The commentator was clearly biased toward the Gryffindor team – but he had to admit that his team didn't exactly play fair. Fifteen minutes in they were in the lead with fifty points.
"Enjoying the match?" Draco shouted over all the screams and cheers from the crowd.
"Not really," Merlin shouted back. Draco rolled his eyes.
"You don't understand true sport."
Slytherin scored another goal. Terrence was hovering above the pitch, circling the stadium in a wide circle. Merlin lost interest. He glanced toward the teacher's stand. Professor Dumbledore seemed relaxed, and he engaged the professors beside him in animated conversation. Snape, on the other hand, looked like he was on the edge of his seat. He kept glancing toward McGonagall.
Of course, house rivalry and all that.
"Slytherin has the snitch!"
"What?" Merlin shouted. "It's over?" and he glanced back toward the pitch. Terrence looked windblown, but he was holding the snitch up in the air. The Gryffindor seeker was sprawled on the grass behind him and Madam Hooch was attending to him.
"Yeah, we won!" Draco shouted. He punched Merlin on the shoulder.
"Party in the common room!" Blaise said and several people copied him.
Merlin sighed and let Draco steer him off the stands and onto the pitch. The entire Slytherin house was going to congratulate the team on their victory. It was some kind of tradition of theirs, and for some reason, they seemed to think that beating the Gryffindor's was the most important match all year. Merlin managed to duck around Draco's arm and hovered near the entrance, laughing and watching as they cheered and put their team members on their shoulders. Merlin shook his head and walked outside of the pitch, hanging out on the grounds next to the entrance for them to come out.
And then something odd caught his eye.
Quirrell was heading into the Forbidden Forest. Now, he might not have thought this odd – Defense teachers did sometimes display a creature or two for the class – if not for the timing. Merlin saw him disappear into the trees. He hesitated a moment, and before he really knew what he was doing, he was walking toward the forest. And then he was running.
Merlin stopped on the edge of the forbidden forest.
He was doing something stupid again, wasn't he?
Snape had told him that he would keep an eye on Quirrell already, and what happened if Quirrell realized that Merlin was following him? He hesitated a moment, and then with a sigh turned around. Now was not the time to rush in blindly. It wasn't like he could just kill the professor either. The stone was safe for the moment, and although he hated it. There wasn't much he could do.
With a frustrated sigh, Merlin headed back toward the pitch and on to the Slytherin common room. Draco would probably be pissed he'd ditched, but the temptation to rush after the Defense professor was too great to let hover right in front of him.
Merlin had ditched him.
Draco had realized it when walking back out of the pitch with the rest of the Slytherin house. It was a little irritating, to be honest. Draco frowned and glanced around the grounds in hopes of seeing him. He walked back toward the stands, just in case Merlin had maybe gone back to grab something – which was stupid because he hadn't brought anything with him to begin with, other than that piece of bread. But as Draco came to the conclusion that Merlin had probably gone to the common room ahead of him, he spotted the Granger girl hovering underneath the stands.
"Draco! You coming?" Blaise shouted over to him.
"Go ahead of me, I forgot something," he called back. Blaise shrugged and left with the rest of the Slytherins. Draco took a deep breath and walked over to her. She was leaning against one of the wood posts, looking lost in thought. When he came closer she looked up and gave a small smile.
"Congratulations on winning."
"Thanks," Draco said shortly. He looked around. "What are you doing here?"
She shrugged. "Just thinking." She paused and then met his eyes. "Merlin tell you about his meeting with Ron?"
"He mentioned it, yes," Draco drawled with a shrug. "Didn't seem all that interesting, to be honest."
"He told me that he thought Merlin was okay."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "And because he approves, suddenly what we saw doesn't matter any more?" he sneered. "Sorry, but I don't think a blood traitor is going to dictate what I think."
Granger frowned and folded her arms. "No, what Ron thinks doesn't matter. What matters is what we think." She sighed and glanced out across the grounds. "Merlin has a lot of secrets."
"No kidding."
"But I think that we should be there for him anyway." She glanced back at him and smiled softly. "He won't turn dark if he has someone to show him the light."
Draco wanted to roll his eyes. "That's cheesy," he said. Talking to her was getting easier and easier as the weeks past. He still felt a little strange, and the fact that he wasn't making fun of her was disarming. But, her blood status wasn't as important as Merlin. "But," and here he tried not to cringe, "I think you're right."
She beamed at him, and then she cocked her head to the side. "Why?"
Draco blinked. "Why what?"
"Look, you can deny it all you want. But everyone knows that your family is dark and that your father was in league with You-Know-Who for a time. So, why don't you want Merlin to go down that path?" She hesitated a moment. "I mean, aren't you going in that direction?"
Draco stared at her. "You have no filter, do you?" He shook his head. She made a very good point after all. His dad was always telling him that he should be proud to be a Malfoy and that their darkness was to be praised. They were better than everyone else, but his dad really just cosied up to the greatest power at the moment. The minister, the dark lord, the minister again. It was all a big political game to him.
"A friend once told me," Draco began softly, "that fathers can sometimes be wrong."
"That sounds like good advice."
Draco nodded. "Yeah," he turned to leave before pausing. "Hey listen, what do you know about Professor Quirrell?"
"That boy knows something."
Long pasty fingers rapped against the wood of his desk. Even after all these months, he hadn't gotten used to the sensation of second soul living within him, sharing the space. It made him feel stretched and powerful, as though he was a vessel that harboured more energy than any other person on the planet. He was bursting, ready to explode. And it was addicting, he liked the confidence it gave him, even if there was one very important catch.
"He is of no consequence," the high cold voice of his lord replied, not concerned in the slightest. "A mere boy of eleven cannot stop our plans."
"Yes," Quirrell replied though the worry still showed on the lines of his face. He had hardly paid attention to Evans at all; the boy never did his homework and had taken to sleeping in his class. Quirrell had written him off as a deadbeat, doomed to a pathetic paper-pushing career. And yet...
"But if he knows what we're trying to accomplish—" Quirrell began nervously, "he could undo everything."
"You give the young Slytherin too much credit, Quirrell," the Dark Lord said, and Quirrell was certain the entity was laughing at him. "I have seen his abilities during your classes, and to think that he possesses much of a threat is laughable."
Silently Quirrell agreed with him, but there was some nagging thought at the back of his mind that if this boy suspected what he was up to then someone else that was a threat might have noticed something. He frowned but didn't voice these concerns. The Dark Lord would have thought of them, and he didn't want to agitate the powerful wizard.
"Severus Snape is a more pressing concern," the Dark Lord continued, his tone lowering slightly. Ah, Snape. Quirrell had seen the Potions Master exiting the third-floor corridor with a slight limp, preventing himself and his Lord from attempting to steal the stone.
"Are you certain you don't want to include him in this? He might—" Quirrell started to ask but the Dark Lord interrupted him.
"No," hissed the voice and Quirrell went silent at once. "His loyalty is questionable and I will not jeopardize this plan. I have waited far too long to risk anything getting in the way."
"Of course, Master," Quirrell hurriedly said, a bead of sweat on his brow. "But sir, he suspects something as well." He wouldn't have been surprised if that's how that Evans boy had been tipped off – wasn't there this uncanny rumour of the two being related?
"I know, Quirrell. I hear everything that you hear," he snapped, and Quirrell cringed slightly. "As long as there are no more foul-ups like Halloween, everything will go smoothly and Severus Snape will no longer be an issue. He and that muggle loving fool can't do anything without proof of your incompetence!"
Quirrell swallowed.
"Now, go pretend to be the bumbling professor and feint idiocy when confronted by Severus. He will no doubt come to you and attempt to join our cause, but whether he is coming of his own violation or of the muggle-loving fool's we can't know." The Dark Lord paused a moment, and Quirrell gave an involuntary nod in agreement. "When I have regained a body and my power, his loyalty will be put to the test."