Inside the secret chamber attached to Quirrell's office.
Quirrell was currently kneeling on the floor, clutching his head in his hands. His whole body trembled as he muttered to the empty room:
"I'm sorry... Master, I just didn't notice... please, don't..."
From the darkness, a cold, rasping voice answered, "Shut up... coward... wait for my power... wait, what was I doing just now?"
The voice trailed off mid-sentence, sounding confused about its own actions.
"Did you get the Mandrake?"
Quirrell, already shaking, felt as if countless whispers were buzzing in his ears. In just a few seconds, he felt more exhausted and nervous than ever. He struggled to focus his mind enough to confirm the question from the voice behind him.
"Speak!"
The voice rang out again, this time with obvious anger.
"G-got... got it..." Quirrell's voice was even more stuttered and dragged out than usual.
"Then start!" The voice was clearly losing patience.
Quirrell stumbled over to the table. The Mandrake he had just retrieved lay there, its leaves noticeably withered and yellow.
"Take out everything we prepared..."
---
Quirrell stood before the table, a cauldron on either side of him. His eyes were bloodshot.
His hands were stirring both cauldrons simultaneously—the left hand moving counter-clockwise, the right hand clockwise. His movements were mechanical, like a puppet being controlled by strings.
A voice kept transmitting directly into his ear.
"...Slower... idiot... do you want to blow us all up..."
Hearing this, Quirrell's hand jerked involuntarily, but he didn't dare stop.
The liquid in the left cauldron was milky white and steaming, while the liquid in the right one was transparent, with frost creeping up the rim of the cauldron.
The flickering candlelight cast a shadow against the back of Quirrell's head.
The purple turban had been removed. A blurred face was embedded in the back of Quirrell's head—noseless, with only two slit-like nostrils.
The eyes were closed, but the eyelids twitched incessantly.
The mouth cracked open, gasping for air.
The cold voice spoke again. "Add it... now..."
Quirrell froze for a second, taking a moment to react before his gaze turned to a silver knife resting nearby.
"No... Master... please..."
"Now."
The voice was icy and left no room for argument.
Trembling, Quirrell picked up the silver knife and aimed it at his left wrist. The sharpness of the blade made him flinch, and he accidentally sliced right through the skin.
Blood dripped into the left cauldron, turning the milky white liquid instantly pink.
The face on the back of his head twisted into an expression that looked like a smile, yet also like pain.
Then, Quirrell pointed the blade at the face on the back of his head—and the eyes on the face snapped open.
In the dim chamber, the crimson red in those eyes was terrifyingly clear.
The blade pierced the forehead of the face.
No blood flowed; instead, a black, viscous substance oozed out. One drop, then two, fell into the right cauldron.
The transparent liquid immediately began to boil, emitting a high-pitched shriek.
Quirrell shuddered at the sound, sobbing silently as tears mixed with sweat ran down his face.
The face on the back of his head, however, let out a satisfied sigh. "Good... continue..."
In the flickering candlelight, Quirrell poured the contents of the two cauldrons together. They didn't mix; instead, they floated into the air, forming a swirling vortex...
---
"What is the Mandrake for?"
Inside the study group's room, the fireplace crackled in the corner.
Rock sat alone, rubbing the space between his eyebrows.
On the desk lay One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, open to the entry on Mandrakes. After coming back from the courtyard, Rock had come straight here to find answers.
Unfortunately, this was just a textbook. It couldn't explain why Quirrell needed a Mandrake.
Click—
Hearing the door, Rock looked up to see Theo and the others sauntering in.
"See? Told you he'd be here."
Theo sat down next to Rock, tilting his head to glance at the open book. "Trying to study in secret so you can get ahead of us?"
"Does he need to? Rock is already ahead of you in every subject," Adam said with a snort.
Michael and Terry set down their books, while Padma looked at the cups on the table. "What does everyone want to drink?"
"Snowy weather calls for a cup of piping hot milk tea, obviously," Adam said.
The next moment, his cup filled to the brim with steaming milk tea.
"Praise the House-elves!" Adam toasted, lifting his cup.
Next to him, Neville swallowed and asked for milk tea as well—watching Adam drink made him feel like today's tea would taste especially good.
Soon, a sweet aroma filled the room. Everyone had a cup of tea in hand.
Taking advantage of the break, Michael pulled out his Transfiguration homework. "Alright everyone, we need to get this done."
Theo groaned, burying his face in his hands. "My god, it's a rare snow day. Can't we have a little entertainment?"
"But didn't you just spend ages playing in the common room before we came here?" Padma asked, looking confused.
Theo froze. He couldn't exactly admit that he just didn't feel like studying right now, could he?
Rock chuckled at the scene. In the past, Theo would have just copied his homework. But since the study group started, Theo had been working hard to avoid being teased by Michael and the others.
Shaking his head, Rock closed One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
If he couldn't figure it out, he'd let it go for now. The modified "Lingering Whispers" spell he cast should be enough to give Quirrell and Voldemort a headache anyway.
The room filled with the scratching sound of quills. Rock worked on his assignment while occasionally answering questions from Neville and the others.
On his internal system interface, the "Daily Inscription" panel flashed occasionally, showing his experience points rising.
Lately, Rock had been improving his stats at a steady, stable pace.
After analyzing the Philosopher's Stone for the third time, he felt he had grasped some new concepts that just needed time to digest.
His current state was optimal. Between Flitwick's Charms Club, Professor McGonagall's scheduled checks, and... Snape's private Potions lessons (if you could call getting roasted "lessons"), his schedule was full.
Once his homework was done, Rock pulled Ancient Runes Made Easy from his bag.
Thanks to the vision of Nicolas Flamel that night, he understood the practical operations of alchemy, but he still needed to master the basics.
Ancient Runes Made Easy covered the ancient script often used in alchemical symbols and spells.
Rock went through the runes one by one, cross-referencing them with the memories in his head. Watching the Daily Inscription numbers tick up on his panel, he felt a wave of satisfaction.