Bab 22: First Night at Hogwarts
The banquet concluded amidst Professor Quirrell's profuse sweating and restless demeanor. However, aside from him, most people seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves, with Harry devouring his food voraciously.
Harry hadn't exactly starved at the Dursleys', but he'd never truly been full either, as Dudley always claimed everything in sight, including Harry's share of spaghetti.
The last time Harry remembered eating to his heart's content was in Baba Yaga's house.
This memory suddenly surfaced, and it stayed with him even as Percy led them to the Gryffindor common room—because aside from the moving portraits, nothing at Hogwarts yet matched the magic of that chicken-legged house.
"Why doesn't the school enchant the tableware to move on its own? That way, I wouldn't have to pour my own water," Harry mused aloud as they walked.
Percy, walking ahead, responded, "That's not really necessary, is it? Typically, enchanted items are products of alchemy. For instance, today's magical photos are created using alchemically enhanced cameras. But enchanting thousands of plates to move on their own would require an enormous amount of effort."
"Besides, the school's tableware has been around for ages. They're part of Hogwarts' history, and as long as they're functional, there's no need to change them."
Harry nodded, only partially understanding.
Still, this didn't stop him from imagining Professor Victor as someone extraordinarily wealthy. After all, the way Borgin had fawned over Victor was akin to someone greeting an open Gringotts vault.
Pondering this, Harry passed a corridor and caught a fleeting glimpse of a pale face illuminated by the faint glow of magical candles at the end of the hallway. He immediately realized it was Victor.
Unable to resist, Harry glanced back.
This time, he saw Victor standing across from a ghost covered in bloodstains, its face expressionless and chained. It was the Bloody Baron of Slytherin.
A faint voice drifted from that direction:
"...I know your secret..."
"...I won't tell... anyone... at the school..."
"...Do I need to pass a test? Just say... I'll do anything..."
The voice was raspy and ethereal, as though it were rising from the depths of the earth. Harry involuntarily shivered but quickly recognized it as the Bloody Baron's voice.
It mentioned a test?
Harry's mind jumped to the first time he had visited Baba Yaga's house. Back then, someone had mentioned a "test," claiming that passing it would help him seek revenge.
This thought inflamed Harry's curiosity.
What if he listened and learned how to pass the test?
Not for revenge, of course. But perhaps it could teach him some magic—like divination!
"I need to use the restroom!"
Harry hastily called out to Percy before bolting away. Percy's voice trailed behind him:
"Don't forget—the password is 'dragon dung!'"
Harry retraced his steps until he reached the corner where Victor and the Bloody Baron stood. Although Nearly Headless Nick had claimed that the Baron never spoke to anyone, exceptions clearly existed.
As Harry pressed himself against the corner, the conversation became clearer.
Victor's voice came first:
"...I can't grant your request. You have nothing left to offer. Fulfilling any wish requires a fair exchange. I'm already depleting my own magic just to glimpse the future. It won't be long before I fade away."
Then came the Baron's reply:
"I'll give you anything you want, as long as you let me see that moment—even my soul."
"No, Baron," Victor said coldly. "You no longer have a soul. What remains of you is merely the most unforgettable fragment of your memory, eroded by centuries until it's as worthless as chewed tea leaves."
"Then what about time? I saw it—Trelawney exchanged her time with you and gained true prophetic abilities!"
"You must help me! For that moment, I'm willing to give anything—I have all the time in the world, and it's yours!"
Harry's eyes widened in shock.
Time? Was that something you could trade?
Professor Trelawney... wasn't she the previous Divination professor?
While Harry processed this revelation, the argument continued unabated.
"You have nothing to offer, Baron. Time belongs to the living. You're dead, a hollow shell devoid of feelings or any bargaining chips."
Victor's refusal was unyielding. The Bloody Baron, however, persisted, asking question after question, only to be rejected each time.
Finally, Victor, sounding thoroughly exasperated, said:
"Fine, fine! Stop pestering me."
"Here's the deal. Since you have no price to pay, find something—or someone—who does. Bring me a soul full of emotion, or better yet, a living person. Villains are ideal."
"Villains? What do you mean?"
"Wizards harboring intense negative emotions. Their volatile energy, heightened nerves, and abundant magic make them perfect for a deal. Capture someone for me, or share their secrets, and I'll divine the means to your release."
A long silence followed.
Just when Harry thought the Baron had vanished, the ghost's usual cold voice said:
"I understand."
Harry peeked around the corner just in time to see the Bloody Baron slip through the wall, leaving Victor alone.
Pressing himself back against the wall, Harry puzzled over what he had just overheard.
What kind of prophecy deal was Victor talking about? Why did it require secrets and emotions?
"Could it really be..."
"Could it really be what?"
A voice behind him sent Harry's heart leaping into his throat.
At some point, Victor had appeared directly behind him, towering over him with an imposing gaze.
"S-s-sorry, Professor Victor! I heard something about a test, and I couldn't help being curious. Baba Yaga once mentioned a test, and I wondered if I could pass it—so I..."
Harry stammered so badly that he could barely string a sentence together.
Victor, however, latched onto one key point.
"You want to pass Baba Yaga's test? For what? Revenge against your aunt and uncle?"
"No, no! I-I just want to learn some magic... The book Borgin gave me, From Bloodlines to Curses, got confiscated by Professor McGonagall because I used a jinx on the train."
"I'm worried that when classes start, I won't be able to learn any new spells..."
Harry lowered his head, embarrassed.
"Sorry, Professor."
"That's not an issue."
Victor didn't seem bothered by Harry's eavesdropping or by the confiscated book. After a moment of thought, he scrutinized Harry.
"It's not entirely impossible. Your talent is unique. If you come help me with some chores once a week, I'll teach you a bit of magic. How about that?"
"Absolutely, Professor! But... what kind of magic? Divination?"
"Some magic you won't find anywhere else."
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