Bab 67: Chapter 67
Milo started as the office door slammed shut. He hadn't seen anyone enter, but there was no reason it couldn't have been someone invisible...
"See Invisibility," he cast as quietly as he could, though the spell didn't turn up anything.
He exhaled. It must have been the wind...
...there couldn't possibly be any wind in the dungeons, could there?
So, maybe I should use Detect Thoughts? While he debated spending another 2nd-level spell slot on what might be nothing, Milo suddenly felt himself being yanked upwards into the air.
"Gah!" Milo shouted reflexively as he dangled by his ankles.
To Milo's horror, the air near the door seemed to run like wet paint towards the ground, revealing a very smug-looking Professor Snape, wand brandished like a sword.
Unfortunately for our hero, the Disillusionment Charm only makes the target very, very difficult to see by changing their colour to resemble the background—rather like a chameleon—rather than being actually invisible. As such, See Invisibility—which only revealed invisible creatures and objects, was ineffective.
I'm still invisible, Milo reminded himself. Maybe this dangly spell affects a wide area and he doesn't actually know where I am...
"Finite Incantatem," Snape muttered, but nothing seemed to happen. "Accio Invisibility Cloak." Milo held his breath. Snape frowned, staring at his wand as if it must be broken. With a shrug, he cast "Accio Flour."
A heavy burlap sack flew from one of Snape's many supply cupboards and into Snape's hand.
Milo panicked. Flour was, in addition to closed doors, an infamous bane of invisible characters everywhere—it was much like a Cleric's Glitterdust.
"Ventus," Snape said with a sneer, and the flour in his hand was blasted around the classroom.
Milo looked up at himself: he was completely covered in the white powder, which gave away his position completely. He sighed.
"Look, I—" Milo began.
"Stupefy," Snape cast, and with a red flash everything went black.
o—o—o—o
Quirrell sat by himself watching the Quidditch match without much enthusiasm. Despite the crowd, all of the seats nearby him were strangely empty—likely because of the strong scent of garlic his turban emanated.
"Slytherin in possession again," Lee Thomas announced miserably to the audience. "Those Firebolts must be something else entirely." Lee sighed audibly. "Oh, and guess what? They scored. Again. That puts the score at 140-30 for Slytherin, although, might I remind you that all three of Gryffindor's amazing goals were made by Angelina Johnson, the lovely and talented—and, might I say, beautiful—"
"No, you may not," interrupted McGonagall.
"Sorry Professor. Anyways, oh, Slytherin's got the Quaffle again..."
To Quirrell's great surprise, Milo came and sat down next to him.
"Sh-sh-shouldnt you b-b-be with your friends?" Quirrell stammered.
Milo simply shrugged.
"I-I suppose you c-c-came to t-t-talk about v-v-v-vampires again?"
Milo stared up at him and frowned.
"Yeah," he said. "Remind me again where we left off?"
Quirrell eyed his student suspiciously.
"You w-w-were t-t-telling me how you b-b-believed that H-H-He-Who-M-M-Must-N-N-Not-B-B-B-Be-N-N-N-Named" (Quirrell resolved to say "Y-Y-You-Kn-Kn-Know-Who" from there on out, if only to save time) "had s-s-servants r-r-rounding up v-v-vampires."
Milo stared at him with an unusual expression.
"Did I, now?" he said softly. "And, have you thought at all about it? What do you think... Professor?"
Quirrell paused. What did he think? The truth of what he believed was something he tried not to think about, lest his master discover how odd he thought it that becoming a vampire hadn't been his first plan...
"The D-D-Dark L-L-Lord is widely known to b-b-believe strongly in b-b-blood purity," Quirrell explained. "I d-d-don't b-b-believe he would b-be w-w-willing to b-b-become a v-vampire."
Milo choked somewhat, but recovered quickly. Something is not right here, Quirrell thought. I have to press him for information... can he really bring back the dead?
"M-m-more importantly," Quirrell stammered, "what y-y-you said earlier—is it t-true?"
Milo hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking.
"Yes, of course."
"But—h-how?"
In the background, ignored by both of them, Slytherin scored again.
Milo paused.
"In the same way that all wonders are achieved," he said. "I think you know how."
Quirrell frowned.
"N-no, I r-r-really don't."
Milo looked vaguely disappointed.
"Where's Snape?" Milo asked suddenly. "I wonder what he might be up to while the students are all here, watching the game?"
Quirrell himself had just been wondering the selfsame question.
"Y-you think h-h-he's trying to g-g-get the Stone again?" Quirrell asked.
"Maybe. What are we going to do about it?"
To Quirrell's surprise, a small rat climbed up his leg without warning. Quirrell reached for his wand to hex it, but noticed the rat was holding a tiny roll of parchment between its teeth.
Unfurling it, Quirrell read:
Professor Quirrel,
Snape has me locked in his office. He hexed me and fled, I'm almost completely immobilized. You're the only professor who knows what he's up to. Help!
—Milo
The writing was messy and hasty, and the ink blotches ran in the wrong direction, almost as if it had been written upside-down.
"Oh," Quirrell smiled darkly. "I don't think you'll be needing to worry about Severus Snape for much longer."
Without another word, Quirrell stood up and strode out of the stands, his purple robes trailing behind him.
"Oh-oh OH!" Lee shouted, "POTTER'S SEEN THE SNITCH! HE'S GOING AFTER IT AND—"
Dozens of students nearby saw it happen. His face mottled with rage and frustration, Milo, to the horror of all watching, drew his wand and, pointing it at Harry Potter, clearly cast the Hurling Hex. Ignoring the shocked looks of horror on the bystanders' faces, Milo left the stadium.
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Status Power Mingguan
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Power 
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