Defense class was a quiet affair. Aside from the shuffling of everyone's books being withdrawn from their bags, no one was speaking. Harry began to wonder exactly what the point of this class was. They certainly didn't learn anything, let alone stay awake to learn anything. Even Hermione's eyes drooped as she took her place at the table next to him and Ron. The classroom always smelled weird. Yes, Harry had heard the rumors about garlic being stuffed up Quirrell's turban. However, if Harry could place a name to the scent he would say it was death. The man smelled ghastly and he couldn't stand to be within 10 feet of him.

With utter reluctance, Harry took his seat next to Ron and turned to the appropriate page in his book. He began to read the chapter, which did not hold his interest for very long. If it weren't for Quirrell's noisy entrance, Harry would have fallen asleep right then.

As an instinctual habit, Harry reached up to pinch his nose when Quirrell walked past him and to the front of the classroom. Harry froze. He looked around, but no one seemed to notice what had just happened. Ron glanced up in time to see Harry gain control of his facial features. Ron's questioning look was waved off by Harry and the lesson proceeded normally.

~.~

"I'm telling you guys! As he walked past me I distinctly heard the words 'I'll kill you'," Harry desperately told the twins.

George glanced at Fred nervously. "So… it didn't come from Quirrell or one of the other students? You just… heard it in the air?" Fred asked.

"No, I said this already, it was definitely coming from Quirrell, but his mouth wasn't moving!" Harry protested. "It was almost like it was coming from his mind!"

The younger boy paced around the dormitory as Fred and George sat on the window sill. Both boys fidgeted restlessly ever since this new information was brought to their attention. Things were getting weird and nothing good would come of it.

"Was it even Quirrell's voice though?" asked George.

"Well, it was hard to tell. It was very faint and I just barely caught it," Harry replied.

For the first time during the conversation, Fred grinned. "I think it'd be pretty obvious if it were Quirrell's voice or not, right?" Fred glanced at George for reassurance who just returned his look with curiosity. "Was the voice stuttering or not?" Fred finished.

"I don't think it's as simple as that," George supplied. "If the voice was Quirrell's, and he does indeed want to kill Harry, then maybe he's hiding his true personality. Maybe he doesn't really have a stutter."

"It could have been coming from his turban," Harry interrupted suddenly.

The twins exchanged dubious looks. "Umm, what would make you say that?" George questioned.

Harry considered that question for a moment. It was completely far fetched, but that turban was so mysterious, as was Quirrell's stutter actually. The man's whole persona was strange. Apparently the man never stuttered before, until recently. He supposedly acquired his turban recently as well.

"His scent affects me differently than everyone else. I can tell," Harry began. "To me, his turban smells like decay. I feel physically sick whenever he walks past me. So sick that I rudely have to cover my nose. Nobody else does that, I just see their noses twitch unpleasantly and then once Quirrell gets past them, they forget all about it." The twins looked unconvinced. Harry continued, "Also, whenever Quirrell's back is turned, my scar hurts."

This finally seemed to catch the older boys' attentions. They'd never of Harry's scar hurting, so it must've meant something.

"YES!" Fred yelled.

"What?" Harry and George replied.

However, Fred wasn't listening. Instead he started pacing around the room and rubbing his hands together mischievously.

"Seriously what's up?" George asked while giving his brother a good poke on the forehead.

Batting George's hand away impatiently, Fred finally stopped pacing and faced the other two. "I've got an idea. Something I've been wanting to do all year!" At George's and Harry's blank looks, Fred continued. "We should rip Quirrell's turban off in front of the whole school!" he finished grandly.

Harry and George looked at him like he grew a second head. "What the hell makes you think that's a good idea?" George questioned.

"No seriously, hear me out," Fred pleaded. "We could kill two birds with one stone if we do this. First of all, yes, we'll definitely get in trouble for yanking off Quirrell's turban if nothing is under it. However, at least Dumbledore will see that we're still pranking people. Secondly, we get to see what the deal is with that thing! If nothing's under it, we'll have a good laugh. If something is under it….well…. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Fred concluded.

After a moment's pause, George complied "Yeah alright."

Harry nodded his head in agreement with George. "So when are we going to do it?"

"Tomorrow. Lunch time in the Great Hall," Fred announced.

Gulping back the saliva that had gathered in Harry's mouth, he nodded once more.

~.~

~.~