"Professor Quirrell looks lethargic."
After finishing a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell quickly disappeared from everyone's sight. Harry, while tidying up the books on the table, spoke to Ron.
There were no books on Ron's table at all, so he just watched Harry clear them away.
"Isn't he always like this? I heard that he was pretty good when he taught Slytherin. Is he the head of Slytherin?"
Ron complained mercilessly, then glanced at Harry and said, "Why do you put the books out? We don't need them during class anyway."
"And, Harry, do you remember what the notes were? The Adventures of Professor Quirrell?"
Seamus sat on the stool, turned around, and said with a teasing face: "I took a look, the only ones we have together are you and Hermione taking notes."
Harry could hear the disrespect for Professor Quirrell in their words.
But he had nothing to argue with. After all, Professor Quirrell is really not a likable professor.
If nothing else, just because he was obviously wrong when he was in Slytherin class, you can see his prejudice against students.
Then don't expect the students to respect him equally.
But if Harry remembered correctly, Professor Quirrell should have graduated from Ravenclaw. Why do you prefer Slytherin now?
"I just think this course is very important. Maybe what the professor said has some useful knowledge."
Harry explained it to everyone. If you feel that you are different from your friends, you will inevitably feel a little uneasy. So he could only explain quickly.
"This course is indeed very important." Ron nodded seriously, "But there is one course that is even more important!"
After Harry finally finished cleaning up, he asked confusedly: "What class?"
He recalled Ron's usual behavior: "Is it Transfiguration class?"
In his impression, Ron was already quite serious when he was taking the Transfiguration class. Of course, the Potions class he took the most seriously was, but it was unlikely that it wasn't because Ron thought it was important.
"No! Flying lessons of course!"
Ron said excitedly: "We are about to have our first flying lesson!"
Harry shook his head helplessly. This was not the first time he heard about flying lessons today. It seems that many friends around me are looking forward to this course.
They even kept bragging about it, including but not limited to competing with Muggle helicopters and flying to London on the family broom at the age of four.
Children, I can understand it. He remembered that Luke listened with great interest and even took out a strange crystal ball, which seemed to be recording.
However, when everyone asked Luke about his flying skills, Luke just said that he had never been exposed to flying, so it was best to wait until he had completed the flying lesson to discuss the specific situation.
At this time, Malfoy will pop up and let Luke not worry. He can teach Luke and guarantee that he can teach Luke to become a qualified Quidditch player.
Speaking of which, he seemed to be looking forward to playing Quidditch with Luke.
Although Luke didn't seem too keen on it.
They walked out of the classroom, and when they were in the corridor, Ron suddenly noticed Neville, who looked quite good.
"You're in a good mood! Neville!"
"Of course! I haven't been teased by Peeves for a few days. Sure enough, life is wonderful without Peeves. Even better without Snape!"
Neville said in a brisk tone.
Harry looked at Neville, who was happier and more confident than the first time he saw him, and clearly felt the power of companionship.
"Speaking of which, I heard from Lee Jordan," Seamus said as if he suddenly remembered something, "Peeves seemed to have been furious a few days ago and made a lot of noise in the dungeon. He even shouted that he must be killed. The person who attacked him will pay the price!"
"Someone attacked Peeves? Was Peeves injured?"
Luke frowned slightly as he listened to Bloody Baron's words, although he was very confident that Peeves was not simple. But the other party is also Voldemort after all. But between the two, it’s hard to say who will be the camel to die.
"Peeves suffered a little loss, but he said the other party was definitely not feeling well either."
Bloody Barro said: "He disappeared after being injured. Just let me tell you. I think he may be recuperating from his injuries now and thinking of some ways to torment the opponent."
"Can you find him?"
Luke pressed.
Barrow shook his head silently, and then said: "It's impossible, sir. If Peeves doesn't want to be found, then no one can find him."
Luke heard this and then glanced at the kitten lying at his feet.
Booker gave him a roll of his eyes and covered his face with his tail.
Luke felt his blood pressure rise. But he still took a deep breath and calmed down.
"Okay, please help me keep an eye on Peeves. If he appears, tell me as soon as possible."
After hearing these words, Bloody Man Barrow put a hand on his chest and said seriously: "I obey, my lord."
Luke nodded and kicked Booker gently: "Let's go back to sleep."
Booker stood up slowly, stretched, and then followed Luke's footsteps.
In the office, Quirrell was looking hideous on his sofa, feeling like he was wailing in pain. But no sound came out.
The sofa was torn and deformed, and the withered fist hit the sofa with a heavy muffled sound. Clothes that originally fit became looser at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The face that was originally quite plump shrunk suddenly, and then swelled up again. Only the back of the head remained unchanged.
Quirrell's suffering came to an end after ten minutes.
He fell to the ground, and then struggled hard to crawl to the desk not far ahead.
After about half a minute, he finally completed the distance that was only a few steps.
He pulled open the drawer with force, and when it was pulled to a normal position, his hand slipped from the handle once. Then he grasped the handle again and finally pulled the drawer out.
He reached in and fumbled around and pulled out a bottle of magic potion.
Quirrell put the potion bottle to his mouth and swallowed greedily.
The brown potion disappeared quickly. And Quirrell's figure quickly changed back to its original shape.
The empty medicine bottle fell to the carpet, making an unclear sound.
Quirrell gasped and stood up from the ground covered in sweat.
He staggered and sat on the sofa again, breathing heavily. His eyes were full of panic and fear, and he looked as if he had narrowly escaped death.
In his mind, Voldemort was roaring at this moment.
"More power! Quirrell! More power!"
"I want further recovery!"
"I want! Kill! That damn! Ghost!"
Quirrell, on the other hand, could only remain motionless like a dying man.
