This is What Ravenclaw Looks Like

T/N: Sorry, got sick, now back.

Paper can't contain fire forever.

To be more precise — although all sorts of wild rumors had been swirling around that morning, by the end of the morning classes, most of what had really happened the night before finally came out.

Quirrell was dead — that was the confirmed news.

He wasn't just a professor at Hogwarts; he was also someone's child. Even if he hardly counted as a "sacrifice," the school still had to notify his family, and the castle ghosts had witnessed everything.

Students who'd gotten up for a late-night bathroom trip had been curious enough to visit Hagrid, who confirmed that the carriage they'd seen last night really had passengers. Since no alarms had gone off in the castle and no mess was left behind, people guessed the visitors must have been Aurors brought in to help.

"If Dumbledore were going to call anyone, it'd have to be Aurors — he'd never hire thugs—"

That's what the Gryffindors were saying.

Students whose classes had turned into self-study that morning had plenty of time to mull over the rumors. With that newly enforced corridor ban this year, everyone naturally assumed Quirrell had been trying to sneak in there — so the fight must have started in that corridor and ended in his office.

Others guessed that corridor had been a trap all along — Quirrell fled the trap, only to be ambushed by waiting Aurors. And Dumbledore hadn't wanted to do the deed himself out of pity.

Some rumors said Harry got dragged into it too — that Quirrell had cursed him on purpose, hoping Harry being rushed to the hospital would create enough chaos for him to slip away into the corridor.

In the end, every version had holes, but everyone still enjoyed speculating.

"Andrew, what do you think?"

"I think I'm reading my Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook…"

Andrew cut himself a piece of chicken breast — it was a bit dry. After swallowing it, he added:

"Christmas break hasn't even started yet, and we're already down a professor… I don't think they'll just cancel the class before exams. They'll probably find a substitute. So I'm brushing up my grade while I can."

"That won't be easy… no one wants that job anyway, and now we've actually had a professor die… I bet we'll just get self-study and an exam. But Andrew, I'm surprised you read textbooks other than Transfiguration."

"Always do before an exam."

Andrew's deadpan answer made everyone nearby burst out laughing. Quirrell's death hadn't cast any real shadow over them — for kids this age, death was still a faraway idea. And Professor Quirrell had never been popular anyway, so his death felt meaningless to most.

"Harry?"

The voice echoed in Harry's head. His forehead felt like it was splitting open, and his whole body ached as if he'd been trampled by a herd of wild buffalo.

Yet a strange heat kept surging through him, forcing him out of his restless sleep.

"Nngh…"

He groaned, mouth barely opening.

"He's awake!"

Harry heard the relieved shout.

"I swear Snape did something to him!"

"Don't say that, child."

Another voice joined in, gentle but firm.

"He'd already had healing potions before he got to me — and they worked well."

"That's because Snape wanted to rough him up even harder, so he gave him painkillers and healing potions!"

"That's no way to talk…"

Harry's half-conscious brain thought, Well, Snape might actually do that…

"Water…"

His throat was parched. He croaked out the word, and a sip of cold water let him finally open his eyes.

"Ah — Ron? Neville?"

He looked around and saw his roommates lying in beds on either side.

"What happened to you guys?"

"Snape froze us in the corridor all night. We came here to get you help and ended up stuck ourselves. They didn't find us till morning… Madam Pomfrey says we have to stay half a day to rest."

Harry knew he shouldn't, but he felt a small laugh bubbling up.

"Glad you're okay, Harry."

Ron grinned.

"Oh, and I've got some bad news — Hermione came by earlier. She left us all her morning notes."

"Of course she did. That's so Hermione."

"Oh," Neville piped up, "they're saying Professor Quirrell died last night. They say he cursed you so he could sneak off to steal something from that corridor."

"Snape broke the curse — but it sounds like he gave you a proper thrashing with magic too…"

Dean added helpfully.

Harry's already aching head could barely process it all.

"Let me think… this is just too much…"

Knock knock knock…

Dumbledore's office door was rapped on once again.

"Come in — ah, Minerva."

Dumbledore smiled when he saw Professor McGonagall carrying only a single file.

"What is it? I was working hard until late last night."

"Nothing that important, Albus."

McGonagall stared at him.

"Harry's awake. That office is being repaired as we speak. We'll need a new professor."

"That will be difficult — no one wants to take over halfway through the year, especially now. But I'll try."

"Also, Severus sent in a report. He seems willing to double up."

"No."

"Understood."

"And one last thing." She laid the file on his desk."We received a well-packaged delivery this morning. Your mirror arrived, Albus — the Mirror of Erised."

A smile twitched at the corner of McGonagall's otherwise stern face.

She knew a bit of Dumbledore's plan — to use the mirror as a trap no one could easily walk away from. The stronger one's desire, the harder it was to escape the mirror.

But the racket from last night made one thing clear: the plan was now in an awkward spot.

The trap hadn't even been installed yet — and the target was gone.

Dumbledore clearly realized it too.

Not just the mirror — all the elaborate enchantments, puzzles, and baited traps were now useless.

They were supposed to protect the Stone, but now Dumbledore carried it with him — the very thing meant to be hidden in the mirror as bait.

It was all a bit embarrassing, honestly.

But McGonagall suddenly had an idea.

"Do you still want the mirror, Albus?"

"Feel free to use it, Minerva."

"Bit of a waste, but it could be useful for my office work."

McGonagall nodded.

"I'll move it to my office, then."

T/N: For twenty chapters ahead on all my fics become a P@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle