The Tragic Quirrell

With this plan in mind, the Weasleys became enemies, wandering around Slytherin's table every day and threatening to destroy their old rival Slytherin with a new tactic.

There was also a quiet rumour that Ivan, the hero of Gryffindor, had recently made a bet that if Gryffindor won, it would be ten to one, and if Slytherin won, they would win as much as they bet.

When the young Slytherin witches and wizards heard this, they were so angry that they began to jump up and down.

Being the wealthiest house in Hogwarts, Ivan was not short of money, and soon received several Galleons, though most of them were Sickles and Knuts.

After all, this bet was just for fun, and the participants were all young wizards, so the bet was usually just a few Bronze Knuts or a Silver Sickle…

Even so, Ivan had received a large amount of money over the past few days, and with the occasional bet by a student from another house, his principal was completely out of pocket.

If we lose, we're screwed…

Given this, both Joel and Fred grew nervous and felt they had to do something to save the day.

Like… giving Harry extra practice!

Harry's weekly training regime, having suffered an undeserved loss, was again… more!

Fortunately, these miserable days did not last long, as the Quidditch match had already begun.

"Harry, come on, you have to catch the Golden Snitch!" Backstage, George gazed solemnly at Harry and spoke as if this Quidditch match concerned the very survival of the world.

"Yeah, or we'd be eating dirt…" Fred nodded in agreement.

Fred's words confused Harry, as more than one person had said them to him over the past few days.

At first, Harry felt a heavy sense of responsibility, believing that his fellow students were encouraging him, but he soon found out that Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and even the Hufflepuff students were saying strange things to him.

This frustrated Harry, but he could not find anything amiss.

Captain Wood warned Harry, who seemed distracted, after giving an encouraging speech.

"Don't be distracted, Harry, the game is on."

"Yeah…" Harry nodded, trying to calm his nerves.

The gates of the stadium flew open, and the Gryffindor team flew out on their brooms, Harry behind them.

After passing through the slightly darkened backstage area, Harry found himself in a wide, circular arena. The seats, which were usually empty, were already full, and the Gryffindor seats were filled with cheers.

Ron and Neville were now holding up a huge banner made of torn sheets, which Hermione had bewitched to flicker "Potter Must Die" in midair.

Harry was touched, but strangely did not see Ivan there, and after looking around, he managed to spot Ivan sitting in the stands near Slytherin.

Harry, wondering why Ivan was sitting there, saw him smile and point his wand at the sky.

A short time later, a fiery beam of light shot up into the sky and exploded dozens of feet into the air, its faint light forming the words "Gryffindor Must Win, Harry Potter Go!"

Harry felt a sudden warmth in his heart, and instead of thinking about his earlier question, he concentrated on the game that was about to begin.

On Ivan's side, after cheering Harry on with magic, Ivan began the day's task of keeping an eye on Quirrell.

Indeed, Ivan would not have had anything to do with Quirrell this term if the outcome of the Quidditch match had not directly concerned his sudden wealth or his sudden bankruptcy.

After all, during this period, Ivan was arguably the only one who knew that Lord Voldemort resided at the back of Quirrell's head, other than the elusive Dumbledore, who might have sensed it.

Ivan felt rather guilty about having to deal with a final boss indirectly in his first year.

Fortunately, Ivan didn't actually have to do anything other than sit and watch Quirrell from time to time. Ivan didn't believe that Quirrell would dare to cast a spell while Ivan was watching him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ivan's occasional stares made Quirrell, who was sitting curled up in the corner, uncomfortable, as if his secrets had been seen through.

Ivan also realised that staring at Quirrell so openly would make him suspicious, so he pretended to be curious and chatted awkwardly with Quirrell.

"Professor Quirrell, I hear you once encountered a vampire in the jungles of Romania. Is that true?"

"Ah… yes, there was something. I managed to get rid of it…" Quirrell stammered.

"Really? Then, Professor, how did you defeat the zombies in Africa…"

"I also heard that you fainted at the Hallowe'en Feast when you announced the news about the troll…"

"And…"

Ivan was very nervous about talking to the Dark Lord indirectly for the first time. He didn't even know what to talk about. Would it be too deliberate to talk about learning in such a cheerful atmosphere?

Yvonne had to start with lighter topics… such as recent anecdotes.

"That's enough!" Quirrell interrupted. Quirrell was a good-natured man and would not have lost his temper so easily, but Yvonne was a terrible conversationalist, asking him about the dark past he had always wanted to forget…

This was especially true for Hallowe'en, as Quirrell got angry whenever he thought about it. He pretended to faint at the Hallowe'en meeting to clear his name of releasing the troll, which was a sign of his high-end acting skills and was highly praised by the Dark Lord…

Who would have thought that Ivan, a first-year brat, would be able to kill a troll of that size so easily? In addition, Professor McGonagall, who kicked Ivan when he was down, used him as a foil to show off the troll's strength.

As a result, Quirrell became the laughing stock of the school overnight, and his status as a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was rumoured to have been traded for by Dumbledore.

Most importantly, he did not dare to explain. No matter how hard it was, he could only keep it to himself…