The Dragon King Bloodline of Hogwarts

Chapter 24 The Shadow in the Academy

Viserys leaned against the statue, his right hand resting on Harry's shoulder. Footsteps crept in from the other end of the corridor. Neither too loud nor too soft, neither too fast nor too slow.

Viserys didn't move. He listened carefully. The footsteps were clear and unwavering. The man knew his destination and knew no one would stop him.

A purple headscarf; the glimmer of light from the crack in the door flashed for a moment, then was cut off by a silhouette.

Viseris looked closely and realized it was Professor Quirrell. He had come out of Leicester's ward without looking at the statue and had simply walked past it.

The last figure turned into the stairwell at the end of the corridor, the end of the headscarf swaying before being swallowed by the darkness.

Viserys released his hand from Harry's shoulder.

Harry let out a breath. Viserys didn't loosen his hand on his shoulder. He counted silently, and only lowered his arm when he reached twenty.

"Does the scar still hurt?"

Harry paused for a moment, then raised his hand to touch his forehead. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"When that person just passed by..."

"...It stung a little," Harry said, lowering his hand and looking at Viserys, who was staring in the direction Quirrell had disappeared, his fingers unconsciously resting on the hilt of his dagger. Harry noticed this movement.

"You think there's something wrong with Quirrell."

Viserys turned to look at him. Harry didn't look away; he wasn't asking a question, but stating a conclusion he had already observed.

Why do you say that?

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 10 ...

"You're looking at him," Harry said. "I asked you about the scar earlier, and you didn't answer me. You're looking down that hallway."

Viserys paused for a moment, lowering his voice so that only the two of them could hear.

"Your scar was left by Voldemort, and it hurts, most likely because he was near you."

Harry's expression changed. "At school?"

"In the castle." Viserys looked him in the eyes.

"That's impossible, Dumbledore,"

"Dumbledore is the headmaster, not a guard. He can't possibly watch every door in the school."

Viserys' voice was even lower, but each word was like the edge of a dagger, short and sharp.

"I've experienced something similar in Gringotts. I had a rune in my palm, but when that priest came near me, it would start to burn and ache. It was my blood telling my body that something that almost killed me was near again. Your scar is the same; it's not an ordinary wound, it's Voldemort's mark on you. The fact that it hurts means the mark is still working."

He opened his right palm, and the runes glowed with a very faint dark red light under the torch.

"When you felt that stinging pain just now, there were only three people in the corridor. You, me, and him."

Harry looked down at the rune, then looked up at Viserys.

"On the day of the opening banquet, when Professor Snape looked at me..."

"Snape was staring right in front of you, and your scar ached. Naturally, you'd think he was the one causing the pain," Viserys said. "But he wasn't the only one in the teachers' table; Quirrell was there too. Your scar recognized Voldemort's presence, but your eyes only saw Snape because you can only see people directly in front of you. A scar doesn't tell you direction; it only tells you: he was there. Who was it? I won't jump to conclusions now. But I'll put both names on my suspect list: Snape and Quirrell."

Harry leaned against the base of the statue, head down, fingers unconsciously touching his forehead.

"If it really is him, I mean Voldemort, if he really is in the castle, what can we do?"

"Observe," Viserys said. "Pretend you haven't noticed, and then observe."

"Whom are you observing?"

"You observe Quirrell; you can sense him through his scars, and he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You'll have plenty of opportunities to see him in class. You don't need to question him, you don't need to follow him. Just pay attention to where he goes, who he talks to, and whether anything seems amiss. If anything feels off, remember it, then come to me. Don't tell anyone else."

Harry looked at Viserys and spoke after two seconds.

"You're talking to me like you're assigning me a task."

"This was originally a mission."

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” Harry said, his voice a little steadyer than before. “But if Quirrell really has a problem, I’ll keep an eye on him, and what are you going to do?”

"I am a Slytherin, and I can get close to people you can't. Professor Snape is our Head of House, and he's been showing me some concern lately. Whether that concern is well-intentioned or malicious, only by getting closer will I know."

"How are you going to get close to him?" Harry asked, with a stubborn insistence that he needed to figure out the plan before he could feel at ease.

"Potion. I need a healing potion with dragon blood as the main ingredient. The Ironbelly Dragon is right on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I can get its blood and then ask Snape to teach me how to make it. He'll think I'm just preparing for future battles. It's a reasonable potion topic and a reasonable reason to approach it."

Harry processed what he'd just said. "You used yourself as bait."

“I used myself as a research subject,” Viserys said. “No matter who Snape worked for, as long as he thought I was still useful, he wouldn’t refuse to teach me. What I needed was that time to stand next to his podium, to see how he spoke, how he thought, and what words he reacted to. Even if he had doubts, he wouldn’t put them out in the open. So I needed to get close. And what you can do is look at another point of doubt from the opposite direction. Two directions, two perspectives.”

"Then we'll exchange intelligence," Harry said.

"right."

Harry nodded, a small but decisive gesture. This arrangement neither left him out nor thrust him into the forefront; he accepted it.

Viserys shifted his gaze from Harry's face to the slightly ajar door at the other end of the corridor.

"There's one more thing. Quirrell just came out of Lester's room. It's so late, and a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is at the door of a duel loser's ward. It could just be a round, or it could be for some other reason."

"Leicester? You mean the one you dueled with?" Harry paused. "He's still alive."

“Of course he’s alive. Madam Pomfrey said his wounds are healing quickly and he’ll be back in class in a few days,” Viserys said. “He’s awake, lucid, and can talk. Quirrell was in his room just now, and whether Quirrell came to check on him or to ask something else, Lester is the only one who could possibly know. I have a good reason to go in. I haven’t seen him since the duel, so it makes perfect sense to come now. He won’t think I’m trying to trick him; I came to see him anyway. As for what I can glean from his words, I’ll find out when I get in.”

He turned to Harry.

"We'll decide what to do next after we get out."

---

When Viserys pushed open the hospital room door, Lester was staring at the ceiling. Not in a daze, but with the look of someone who had been staring at the same spot for a long time and didn't need to move anymore. The sheet was pulled up to his chest, his right hand resting outside the sheet, fresh scabs on his knuckles.

"What are you doing here?" The voice was hoarseer than in the hallway, but the hostility remained. "A medical examination?"

Viserys closed the door and sat down in the visitor's chair at the foot of the bed. "You're recovering faster than I expected."

Lester's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't reply. Outside the window, the night wind swept through the canopy of the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and only the faint crackling of the torches remained in the ward.

"You didn't need to bring up a duel that day at the common room door. Slytherins have always admired the strong, and your dragon-riding incident was already widely known. You didn't need to engage with me, but you did." He shifted his gaze from the ceiling to Viserys. "I've thought about this for a long time. You weren't responding to my provocation; you were using me to establish your authority."

He didn't wait for Viserys' confirmation. "I am no match for you, I am your stage. You turned the duel into a showcase, letting the entire academy see the flames, the daggers, and what you are capable of. You succeeded, very well."

His voice didn't rise, but something that had been suppressed for too long was surging forth. "So you came here just to say 'it's nothing,' then forget it. I traded four years of self-respect for this exhibition. Don't forgive myself for me."

"You're right, I need Slytherin to see what I can do, and you gave me that opportunity," Viserys said. "I won't apologize."

"Then what are you doing here?"

Viserys looked at his right hand. The edges of the scabbed wounds on his knuckles were red, marks left by repeated scratching. He was struggling with himself, a feeling Viserys recognized.

"You have four more years of training than me. If I gave you an extra month to understand me better, the outcome might be different."

Lester's fingers stopped, not because he was comforted, but because he was judging whether the statement was charity or the truth.

"...You're saying all this to make me feel better."

"no."

Lester paused for a moment, then chuckled briefly, a weak laugh. "So what are you doing here? Checking if I've rotted in bed? Or worried I'll come back to cause you trouble in a few days?"

Viserys didn't answer; he was waiting. When Lester mentioned "a few days," his tone shifted slightly—not with anger, but with something he wasn't good at hiding. It was like holding a card that hadn't been revealed yet, unsure whether to play it.

"I'm not worried about you coming back to cause trouble for me. I'm wondering if you'll still be just a gofer when you come back."

Lester's finger froze in mid-air.

Viserys didn't wait for his reply and continued, "You're recovering very quickly. Mrs. Pomfrey said you'll be discharged in a few days."

"I won't stay in bed for too long."

He blinked as he said this, his eyes lingering on the last syllable of "too long," before adding, "Some people heal faster than others."

This wasn't a repetition of Pomfrey's diagnosis; it was a statement of conviction. He didn't even realize his lips twitched as he said it. It wasn't a sarcastic remark intended for his opponent; it was for himself.

Viserys caught it.

He was certain that, as the most dangerous magical creature in the world, the damage caused by a dragon's flames was difficult to recover from in a short time. Even though the damage was limited due to Fox's timely transfer, Lester's speed could not have been achieved through conventional treatment; there must have been third-party intervention.

Quirrell just came out from the half-open door. A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor wouldn't appear in a student ward at this time for no reason. Besides, Lester's tone just now didn't sound like he was expecting to recover; it sounded like he was waiting for a weapon.

"You seem very certain," Viserys said.

Lester shifted his gaze back to the ceiling, his right hand unconsciously pressing under the pillow. The movement was small, but the sound of his knuckles digging into the folds of the pillowcase was exceptionally clear in the quiet hospital room, suggesting something was hidden there.

"I've seen it. You're recovering well." Viserys stood up. "When you're discharged, the Slytherin common room password will remain the same."

Lester spoke only when Viserys reached the door: "I don't need you to hold the door for me."

Viserys pushed open the door, and Harry was standing next to the stone statue across the corridor, his back against the wall. He immediately came to greet him when he came out.

"How is it?"

"He's alive, mentally alert, and healing faster than normal." Viserys lowered his voice, not stopping, with Harry beside him as they walked down the corridor toward the stairs. "There's another detail: he hid something under his pillow. Quirrell just came out of his room, and whatever they talked about, Lester now has something he didn't have before."

Harry paused for a moment, then caught up. "What is it?"

"He didn't let me see it, but it was under the pillow, and he was protecting it with his hand. It wasn't a wand or a potion bottle; the shape was wrong." Viserys turned into the stairwell, making sure no one was up or down, before continuing, "You saw Quirrell at the banquet before; he was sitting in the teachers' section. What impression did you have of him?"

Harry frowned and thought for a moment. "He had that turban wrapped around his head and seemed hesitant to make eye contact. My scar was hurting at the time, and my attention was all on Snape." He paused. "He didn't seem like someone who could threaten anyone."

"That's probably the effect he wanted," Viserys said. "When was your first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson?"

"Thursday."

"Pay attention to his words and actions. Does he daydream in class? Does he glance at any student more than necessary? Does he mention the Forbidden Forest? Any details that seem off, remember, come to me, but don't tell anyone else."

Harry nodded, then looked up at Viserys. "Then what are you going to do?"

“Snape is our headmaster, and I have to stand under his nose twice a week in Potions,” Viserys said. “He eats at the same teachers’ table as Quirrell and grades papers in the same teachers’ lounge. If he’s noticed anything, his reaction will tell me. If he hasn’t noticed anything, I need to know. I’m in Slytherin, and I have a legitimate reason to be near him.”

Harry paused for a moment, then spoke. "How can I contact you if something happens?"

"Owls are too slow, and notes aren't safe. The password for the common room changes every two weeks, but the library is a public area. If you need to meet, meet at the library. You don't need to explain why you're going to the library since you're coming from Gryffindor. If it's really urgent, just come find me; don't worry about the house."

Harry nodded, asked no further questions, and the two said their goodbyes.

Voldemort's shadow is getting closer. That semi-transparent outline in the Gringotts tunnels might now be behind a door in the same castle. And what about the priest?

He looked down at the rune in his palm. From the entrance to Leicester's ward to the medical wing corridor, from the end of the banquet until this moment, the rune had remained silent, unresponsive. The priestess wasn't in the castle, which wasn't good news. If she were nearby, the rune would give a warning; if she was far away, it was even worse, because he had no idea what she was doing.

She and Voldemort fought side-by-side in Gringotts, so they must have had some form of communication, coordinating their actions without needing to be face-to-face. With Voldemort hiding in the castle, she must have been somewhere nearby, convenient for providing support, relaying messages, and appearing when Voldemort needed her.

Aside from the castle itself, there are only two other places on campus where people can hide: Hogsmeade or the Forbidden Forest.

In a few days it will be the weekend, and McGonagall's Forbidden Forest patrol will allow him to explore one of the options. If the priest is indeed in the Forbidden Forest, he needs to prepare in advance. The Ironbelly Dragon is on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. If he encounters the priest in the forest, he can stall, retreat, or have the dragon come to his aid. At least he won't be facing everything alone in the Forbidden Forest.