"You're going off with them to meet Hagrid?" asked Eridani that Saturday morning.

Victoria nodded. She had jumped at the opportunity to visit the gamekeeper for tea when Harry and Andrew asked if she could come along. Apparently, this was both her and Hermione's first visit to his hut, as before it was only Andrew, Ron, and Harry in the beginning. It gave her an excuse to avoid Quirrell for that time. "Yes. I mean, Andrew asked if I could come along. I didn't want to be rude."

"Uncle Lucius wouldn't be too happy, though."

"Mr. Malfoy is not here," she pointed out with a shrug. "Draco might complain all he wants, but he's just a kid like us. Though he's probably writing to your uncle about our less than savory friendships."

Back on the train, Draco didn't seem happy that they were sitting with "riff raff" like Ron Weasley and Andrew Black. He might not have said anything about them sitting them with Andrew and Ron in the library, but he certainly would be writing a letter to home about her and Eridani's choice of friends.

There was certainly going to be a conversation when they return to Malfoy Manor for the Christmas holidays.

"What are you planning on doing this afternoon?" Victoria had asked her.

"Cassiopeia and her friends are going to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice," Eridani answered. "No doubt to jeer at them. Neville and some of the Gryffindors are going to be there too. I figured I might be there to make sure she doesn't do anything on the way in or on the way out."

Even if Alphard and Severus had vowed to keep watch on Cassiopeia, that didn't mean that she'd do anything behind their backs.

That afternoon, as Eridani followed some of the Gryffindors to watch their team practice, Victoria, Andrew, Harry, Ron, and Hermione crossed the bridge towards Hagrid's hut. The white smoke pluming from the chimney as they neared the front door.

"See yeh bought some new friends, Harry!" Hagrid beamed as he opened the door, pulling back a big black dog. "Back, Fang! Back!"

For a dog with an intimidating name and appearance, he was rather a friendly thing. Licking on her ears and drooling all over her face.

"N'ver thought I see a Slytherin in me house," Hagrid said as he poured tea into their cups and gave them what looked like rock cakes.

"We're not all alike," she answered as she picked up the cake. Just by its texture, perhaps it was a good idea not to bite into it. It felt hard, as if it had been lying around for ages, too.

"'S'pose not," he said with a smile before turning to Hermione. "Was told that ye like books."

Maybe it was because she had primarily heard about Hagrid through the Malfoys, though he seemed less like the drunken savage described to her. Severus never said anything bad, and just recently, she heard nothing but good things about Hagrid from her conversations with Andrew.

"Nasty bus'ness with that troll, I hear." He turned to Andrew, Harry, and Ron. "Glad yeh three were there or two students woulda died tryin' to fight it 'emselves."

"Victoria and I never looked for the troll," Hermione clarified as Fang took the rock cake from Victoria's hand. "We just wanted to keep Harry, Andrew, and Ron out of trouble."

"The story was my idea," Victoria pitched in. "They were on their way anyway, though I bought the professors over to the bathroom because I was afraid that Andrew, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were going to die in there."

"But they lived!" he pointed out. "Not sayin' yeh shouldn't 'ave. The right three teachers came through."

Severus and Professor McGonagall, of course. Victoria wasn't so sure about Quirrell. Creepy Quirrell who was enamored with her for some reason.

Victoria saw that Harry looked at his rock cake before saying, "Dumbledore told all the teachers to follow him to the dungeons. And Snape didn't go to the dungeons with him."

"Probably makin' sure that nobody was stragglin' 'round," Hagrid replied, picking up his teacup. "Yeh know what he's like."

Harry didn't look convinced. As if Hagrid didn't understand what he was getting at. "Maybe he wasn't," he hinted at.

"Harry, he might not like 'is students, but that ain't mean he's up ter no good," Hagrid pointed out.

"Maybe he was just making sure that no one was taking advantage of the troll's entry to break into that third-floor corridor," Victoria theorized, as it would be something that Severus would do.

"There yeh go," Hagrid said with a smile as if she had proved his point. "Anyone woulda used somethin' to get in there." He then turns the subject over to the first Quidditch game. "Excited, Harry? Firs' game o' the season in a week."

"…and there were six of them," continued a third-year who Victoria knew was Holden Ledbury. "Potter was practically absent."

"What Quidditch team practices without their Seeker?" Adrian asked, narrowing his eyes as he tilted his head in confusion. "They are the most important part of the game."

"Maybe their Quidditch captain doesn't want any of us to hex him," Victoria theorized as she looked up at the High Table. Quirrell was keeping his eyes on his food, luckily. He wasn't looking at her, though perhaps it has to do with Severus sitting beside him.

"Vic?" asked Eridani uncertainly.

"Yes?" she asked.

Eridani swallowed. Opening her mouth and closing it. Her cheeks blushing before saying, "I wonder how the Quidditch game is going to turn out. It's only a week away."

"No offense to Harry, but I heard our team flattened Gryffindor last year," she answered. "We should be able to this year."

As Eridani nodded, Victoria had the feeling that it was not what Eridani had wanted to speak about. That there was something else. She could ask her what it was, but with how Eridani blushed, maybe she didn't want to push her.

Victoria kept her word to Severus and, throughout the week, had avoided Quirrell. It didn't help that she had Defense four times a week, but other than that managed to not intercept him.

Fortunately, the nearing Quidditch match had managed to push Quirrell from her mind for the most part. In fact, the excitement for it could be tasted in the school more and more as the week had passed. There was even a betting pool in the Slytherin common room on who would win this year, much to Alphard's chagrin.

"Of course, they'll be a lot of tossers wasting Sickles and Galleons to see if Potter can catch the Snitch," he scoffed, scowling at the bulletin board. "Of course, his flying abilities are all talk. He's only a bloody first year."

"I don't know, Alphard," Eridani told him. "He pretty much landed without a scratch when he caught that Remembrall."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Eri."

Aside from the excitement outside the common room, there had been a build-up of tension between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. Which was saying something, as even when Victoria and her friends were friendly with some of the Gryffindors from their year, there were always tensions between the house of the serpent and the house of the lion. Some of the older Gryffindors had taken upon themselves to hex the younger Slytherins and vice versa. The Weasley twins were given detention for fixing Vincent and Greg to the ceiling of the derelict second-floor girls' lavatory. A third-year Slytherin and a fourth-year Gryffindor had to both go to the hospital wing with bulbotuber puss and backward knees, respectively.

Victoria had managed to split her time with her friend group (which included Eridani) from Slytherin and her group from Gryffindor. Rather than borrow her copy of Quidditch Through The Ages, Harry preferred to read the library copy.

She could tell that he was nervous and had wanted to read the book to ease his mind. Who wouldn't be, given the injuries it might entail?

The day before the match, she joined Andrew, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the freezing courtyard during break. Hermione had conjured up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Severus crossed the yard. Victoria had noticed that he had been walking with a limp the past week. Yet it had seemed noticeable now than it had in Potions this morning.

The five of them moved closer together to block the fire from view. It was certainly against the school rules, enough that points might be docked. As if noticing their guilty faces, Severus limped over to them. If not for the fire, Victoria was certain Severus might find something to tell them off.

"The five of you are not up to something, are you?" he asked, towering over them.

"Last time we knew, it's not against the rules to be in the courtyard during break," Harry retorted.

"Being in the courtyard isn't against the rules, but taking a library book from the building is," Severus countered, eyeing the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. "Give it to me, Potter."

"Is it against the rules to bring a library book out of the school?" Andrew asked her as Severus limped away from them. "Your guardian is literally a member of faculty."

"I don't know," Victoria answered truthfully with a shrug. "I might have to ask. Hogwarts has a lot of rules, but not all of them get enforced by everyone. That's what Alphard said."

"Wonder what's wrong with his leg?" asked Harry.

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly. When Victoria glared at him, Ron said, "I get it. He's not terrible to you. But that doesn't mean that he's not terrible to us."

During dinner, after checking with Alphard ("Actually yes. It's one of those that doesn't get enforced often"), she reported back to Andrew, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "I checked, and that rule got made because someone had left a library book by the Whomping Willow two decades ago."

"The Whomping Willow is literally on the other side of the bridge," Ron pointed out.

"Everything outside the Hogsmeade station is school property," she pointed out.

The Great Hall's enchanted ceiling was a clear azure blue when the school congregated for breakfast the morning of the Quidditch match. Everyone in Slytherin was decked out in their green and silver colors, with Victoria among those not choosing to don the face paint.

At one corner of the table, the Slytherin Team sat congregated. The past week, Alphard did not hesitate to point them out to anyone asking: Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey, Miles Bletchley, Terrence Higgs, Peregrine Derrick, and Lucian Bole. Three of whom she had already heard of and spoke with. Only one of them was missing.

"Bletchley still in the Hospital Wing? He should be out by now."

"Yeah, but you know how Madam Pomfrey is. I get what she was saying. It was a particularly nasty hex he took."

"They say that Abigail is just as good on a broomstick as her twin brother."

Abigail Bletchley was Miles' twin sister. And Victoria had often heard her complain how Flint and the team captain before him went by bulk and were nepotistic in their team recruitment ("It's the skill that should matter. Not our body frames, and surnames and who we're associated with!"). Privately, Victoria agreed. Just because someone had come from a certain family doesn't mean that they would have the skill.

At breakfast's tail end, she had gone over to Gryffindor table to check on Harry. He'd looked rather pale, and Seamus had just added some more to his plate as if to help his nerves.

"You'll do good, Harry," she told him, hoping to be of some help. "You were able to catch Neville's Remembrall with no problems, so certainly you can catch the Snitch with no trouble either."

"Thanks, Vic," he replied brightly.

On the way to the pitch to watch the game, Draco felt the need to protest.

"You're not supposed to wish luck on one of the players on the opposing team," he protested. "That's not how it's supposed to work."

"It's not like I know anybody that well on our team," she pointed out.

"You don't have to be friendly with Potter," Draco sneered.

"Oh, sod off, Malfoy," spat Kevin as they ascended the stairs to the viewing stands. As with their meals and most of their classes, the students were separated by their Hogwarts houses. Eridani managed to find some good seats in the front row. Though Draco was not too far away, unfortunately.

"How are they going to come in?" asked Eridani, who was gripping her binoculars in anticipation. "The house teams?"

"They usually walk onto the field," Alphard answered two rows from behind. "And then they fly at the sound of the referees' blow of the whistle."

"And here they come now," said Cassiopeia in her lofty voice. Looking down on the field, Victoria could clearly see two of the teams coming onto the field: the Slytherins in robes of emerald and silver while the Gryffindors don the ones in scarlet and gold. Most of the Slytherin team had the same bulky build compared to the Gryffindor team, who all varied in size and stature.

Even if each of the latter team had members of different frames and heights, Harry Potter still managed to stick out with his small size. He could only be holding that Nimbus Two Thousand that Draco had been ranting about him getting.

At the blow of Madam Hooch's whistle, all fifteen brooms flew into the air.

"And the Quaffle is immediately taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too –"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The game was commentated by Lee Jordan, who was broadcasting his obvious bias towards his own Hogwarts House. Even if McGonagall was impartial, Victoria was sure that his Gryffindor bias wasn't the reason she was closely watching him. If his comments on Angelina Johnson weren't any indication.

Victoria watched the red and green figures on their broomsticks. Dodging or batting away bludgers, trying to keep the Quaffle from passing through the center hoop, and passing the Quaffle around. At times, she had found herself gazing at Harry, who did a few loop-the-loops with his broom at some point. Perhaps to release some feelings until it was time for him to catch the Snitch.

When it was time for him to start his pursuit, he was cut off by the Slytherin Quidditch captain. Victoria watched as Harry was spun off course and was relieved to see that he stayed on his broom.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors from their stands.

"Why does our captain have to play dirty?" said Daphne with a sigh.

"Don't tell me that you're on the Gryffindor team's side," said Draco. Tearing his gaze from the ongoing game to glare at Daphne.

"Just because someone pointed out poor sportsmanship does not bloody mean that they are rooting for the opposing team, you toerag!" Eridani spat, throwing her hands in the air.

Amid Draco and Eridani's bickering, did Victoria see it happen. Around her, only a portion of the Slytherins gasped in horror as she clamps her hands over her mouth; the blood drains from her skin. The others – with Draco the first to, of course – jeered and pointed.

"Oh no, it seemed that the Gryffindor Seeker's broomstick has gained a mind of its own," commented Lee Jordan.

"He's not going to fall, is he?" Victoria whispers as she watches in horror.

"It's not like there'll be teachers to intervene," said Kevin, still looking at the scene before them. "The moment he falls, one of them will try to slow it."

She ripped the binoculars from Eridani's hands and looked through the crowd.

As she turns her gaze to the stands where the faculty and guests sat, the first thing she sees is Severus speaking extremely fast; his eyes not blinking or leaving Harry. Quirrell was also gazing intently at Harry, though his hands were clasped together, and he was not speaking.

One had to maintain eye contact for jinxes, but she read that jinxes could be done nonverbally as well. Of Severus and Quirrell, one was messing with Harry's broom, and one was trying to save him. Victoria could bet twenty Golden Snitches that the former wasn't definitely Severus.

When Victoria had turned her binoculars away from where Severus and Quirrell were sitting, she didn't see Severus trying to stomp on his cloak. She didn't see someone collide with Quirrell, breaking his eye contact from Harry.

What she did see was Harry's broomstick stop trying to chuck him off, and that had relieved her.

Victoria wasn't alone as she sighed in relief when he managed to get on his broomstick and caught up with Slytherin Seeker Terrence Higgs, who was in the pursuit of the Snitch.

The two Seekers tried bumping each other out of the way until Harry dived towards the ground to get his target. Right after he coughed into his hands, something golden being seen on his palms.

"That's not a win if he swallowed it!" Draco complained after the match. "Why didn't his broom chuck him off?" It had not mattered, for Gryffindor had won fair and square. Gryffindor had one by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Desiring to be away from Draco's string of complaints, Victoria sat with Andrew, Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they had tea in Hagrid's hut.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining to Harry, "Hermione, Andrew, and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Neither did Quirrell," Victoria maintained. "He was looking intently at Harry."

"He wasn't speaking!" said Andrew.

"You don't have to cast jinxes verbally," she argued. "For all we know, Quirrell was probably using a nonverbal jinx on him."

"Quirrell?" Hermione demanded, raising her eyebrow. "The same Quirrell who can't even say a sentence without stammering?"

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, shaking his head. "Why would either Snape or Quirrell do somethin' like that?"

Victoria swallowed as the four Gryffindors had gazed at each other.

"Quirrell wasn't there at the feast and just so happened to come across that troll," Victoria had answered.

"I found out something about Snape," Harry told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

We. Unquestionably, Victoria wasn't in that equation.

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.

"Fluffy?" Andrew demanded as Victoria spat out her tea in shock. It surely didn't suit that Cerberus, just as Fang didn't suit Hagrid's dog.

"That thing has a name?"

"Yeah – he's mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –"

"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"You've already started to spill about it, Hagrid," pitched in Andrew, his lips set in a mischievous grin.

"But Snape's trying to steal it."

"Or Quirrell," Victoria said.

"What else do you have on Quirrell besides that, huh?" demanded Ron, clearly not believing her. "He wasn't limping around like Snape was yesterday."

Truthfully, she hadn't. All she had was that Quirrell was making her uncomfortable. Something that wouldn't count as reliable. Even if she didn't believe Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Andrew's accusation, unfortunately, they'd had more evidence leading them to think it was Severus than she had thinking that it was Quirrell.

"Yer talkin' nonsense," said Hagrid, breaking the silence. "Snape an' Quirrell are Hogwarts teachers, they'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did either one of them try to kill Harry?" Hermione asked. Victoria had a feeling that Hermione still firmly believed that it was Severus and that she had only said that to not get her angry. She didn't seem to believe that Quirrell would be up to no good. "I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape or Quirrell wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all five of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Nicolas Flamel?" she'd asked, wonderstruck.

"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

When they were crossing the bridge and leaving Hagrid's hut, Harry asked Victoria, "You seem to know who Nicolas Flamel is. Who is he, exactly?"

"He's an alchemist from fourteenth-century France," she answered. "He basically set the standard for Alchemy. Even the Muggles have him in their history."

"Fourteenth century?" Ron asked. "Hagrid spoke of him as if – he's supposed to be dead! He'd be like over six hundred!"

"We'll have to read to find out," Hermione pointed out. "I'm certain that Hogwarts has loads of books on Alchemy."

"Sure, hit the books," sighed Ron, looking at his feet.

On the other side of the bridge, Victoria saw a group of second-year Gryffindors lounging on the grass. A few of them turning their head towards them. "Oh look, the son of mad Black," called a blond boy who seemed to be at the center of the group. "Going to pull your wand on us and blast us to bits?"

Both Andrew and Ron would have lunged at the chuckling Gryffindors had it not been for the combined efforts of Victoria, Harry, and Hermione.

"He's not worth it, he's not worth it," Hermione repeated as they had neared the castle.

"It's one thing for those in my House to have their little infighting but Gryffindor…?" Victoria shook her head. "That is far from chivalrous."

"Cormac McLaggen's a special case," said Hermione. "I heard Lavender and Parvati swoon over him last night. How anyone would like such a – "

"If the Sorting Hat placed someone in the wrong House, it's him," said Harry.

"You probably wouldn't see him as the only one," Victoria pointed out as they let go of Andrew and Ron when they knew it wasn't safe. "Vincent and Gregory lack the Slytherin cunning. Gregory wouldn't know the difference between the levitation charm and the knockback jinx to save his own life."

Victoria, Andrew, Hermione, Harry, and Ron had forgotten entirely their disagreement over who was responsible for Harry's racing broom being jinxed. For they were more interested reading on Nicolas Flamel, even if Victoria herself had read up on him.

Victoria was happy to point which books they might find him in ("He can't be in Modern Magical History or in Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century," she explained. "He hasn't done anything recently."), and Hermione, for all her love of books, had seemed taken aback by the list of Alchemy books that were on Victoria's list on where to look. "Some of these titles sound rare. Like you can't find them here," Hermione pointed out.

"That doesn't mean that some of them can't be found in this library," she had pointed out.

However, even with Victoria's extensive list, they didn't need to go too far. The first and last book that Hermione had chosen for their search was an enormous book titled Ancient History of Magic. "The title already looks interesting," Hermione beamed as she slammed it on the surface of the table. "I'm thinking of borrowing it from the library for a bit of light reading."

"This is light?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"It's an expression, Ron," Victoria explained, raising up her eyebrows. "It means you're not reading just to –"

"I know what it means," Ron interrupted. "It's just that it doesn't seem the type for it, that's all."

It took Hermione some time to flip through the thick tome. Scanning the print on the aged pages until she slightly hit the pages in triumph. "I found it." She studies the pages before whispering dramatically, "Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone."

Victoria knew she could have told them that. To save them having her writing a booklist, yet she only offered to give them books to look through to give Hermione her time to shine. As one that loved books herself, one shouldn't deny the bookworm to look through books to see what else might be there.

As for the boys, Hermione's words didn't have quite the effect she'd expected.

"The what?" said Andrew, Harry, and Ron.

"Oh, honestly, don't you three read? Look - read that, there."

Even if Victoria had read something similar, she still took a glimpse of the passage when Hermione pushed the book towards them:

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist, and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"See?" said Hermione when they had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

Victoria had never connected the Gringotts break-in to what Fluffy must be guarding. However, that break-in had happened on the very same day of the meeting that Severus had attended, and he knew that that right-hand third-floor corridor would be off-limits. It had to be the Philosopher's Stone because why else have that three-headed dog standing over a trapdoor.

"Dumbledore had a meeting the day of the break-in," she whispered. "Suppose the culprit knew they were going to remove it but didn't get there on time before they could."

"See, it has to be one of the teachers," whispered Andrew, snapping his fingers. "Certainly not Professor McGonagall. Definitely not Flitwick or Sprout. It would fall through Binns' hands."

"This is a stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harry. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

Even if Victoria didn't mean to, it was as if she had given her friends more ammunition to suspect it was Severus. That maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

"C-can a-any-yone t-t-tell me t-he pu-urpse of-f the Smokescreen s-sp-pell?" Professor Quirrell stammered as the Slytherin first years gathered for Defense Against the Dark Arts the last Monday of November.

Despite knowing the answer, Victoria never raised her hand. Primarily because he almost always chose her and nearly overlooked the others. Perhaps it was due to her avoiding him, but he never commented on her missing tea. Though maybe he might find a way to get her alone.

As if that would happen.

And right now, he seemed put out that she never offered to answer. Dragging his feet when he called out Tracey and asked, "D-do you k-know, M-miss D-davis?"

When they were dismissed, Victoria had hurriedly gathered her books and papers ("Of course, she's eager to meet with those Gryffindors she speaks with time to time," said Lavinia). Grasping the strap of her bag tightly and she had just reached the door when something tells her to stay.

No, I have to get to Herbology.

No, you need to be here.

As much as Victoria had tried to fight that alien thought and go to her next class, she found herself walking back into the classroom. The door closing behind her as she felt herself being steered closer.

"O-oh, f-f-forgot s-somet-thing, M-miss V-v-victoria M-mulciber?" Quirrell had asked her nervously. Trying to come off as clueless.

Yet, Victoria knew better. "I have to go to my next class, or I'll be late." She turned back to the door and tried the knob, only to find it locked shut. That panic setting in as she tried it again.

"Let me out!" she exclaimed, looking back at Quirrell

It wasn't Quirrell that had answered, but the hairs on the back of her neck had raised when a disembodied voice rasped, "Hand me control, Quirinius."

At this, the blood drained from Quirrell's face. His own brand of panic set in, it seemed as he croaked, "Master?"

"Just this one time, I require full control of your body, Quirinius," answered that voice as a new horror that Victoria had never felt before had seeded in the pit of her gut. She had grasped the doorknob tightly. "That will be all."

"Yes, milord," Quirrell whimpered. Then it had happened. Victoria jumped, her back hitting the door as she watched Quirrell seize up. The eyes rolling to the back of his head as he convulsed where he stood. When he came to, there was that red glint in his eyes that had unsettled her.

The uncharacteristic unsetting smile that had graced his lips was another.

"Come here, child," the Not-Quirrell had beckoned, outstretching his arm.

That…language. One that had been only hissed by the snakes that she had been so much afraid of. To hear it coming from a man, it had sounded strange. Unnatural.

Terrifying.

Though she had desired to try at the door, Victoria found herself walking towards him. Her palms were sweaty as she had looked him in the eye. Trying not to show her fear, even if her legs had felt wobbly.

"Who are you?" she had asked, though that frightened voice in her mind had insisted that she knew full well what it could be.

The Not-Quirrell had chuckled as if amused. "My dear girl, had I not lossst my body and my powerssss ten yearsss ago, I would be sstanding before you asss I truly wasss. What I sssshall get back real sssoon sshould my latessst endeavor goesss asss planned."

Victoria's throat felt dry as it was confirmed. The blood draining on her face as she tries to keep breathing. For she felt as if she was being suffocated. It had felt alien to address him as such. In fact, it was something that she had pushed from her mind two months ago.

"Father," she responded, seeing how the word felt on her tongue. It had felt unpleasant, like poison.

His hand touches her shoulder as she forces herself to look at him. "It was with such regret that we had to part when you were only an infant due to events beyond my control. But, no matter, we shall we make up for that lost time when I return at the end of your first year at the most. You are not some mere bastard child, Victoria. You are so much more, for you have a greater inheritance than you would have ever received from the likes of Gaius Mulciber. Something that those foolish children will realize, and they'll have to bend their knees to not only me but you as well. Don't forget that I have told you."

He withdraws his hand, and the seconds drag before he blinks. That red glint was vanishing, and Quirrell had appeared before her as he usually had. "Everything alright?" he had asked, not stammering for once.

Her fear must have shown on her face, for she made sure that it didn't.

"Yes," she lied, taking a few steps back. "May I go to my class now?"

When she was out of the classroom, Victoria had made a run for it. Bolting as fast as she could to Herbology.

She had not gotten into much trouble for being late for Herbology. For Professor Sprout had accepted the excuse she gave ("I had to ask Professor Quirrell a question about an assignment," was her lie).

Victoria's explanation, however, was met with raised eyebrows by Eridani, Kevin, and Millicent. Even Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass appeared concerned. She figured that they would have had to have paid attention that she was making sure to avoid Quirrell beforehand.

She didn't even want them to ask what had really happened. Answering will only make her hear those words again. Victoria hoped that Severus didn't even dare try to ask her about what went on. She'd be sure to avoid him.

No, Victoria didn't want to think about it. She promised herself that, as it made things so much easier.

You are not some mere bastard child, Victoria. You are so much more, for you have a greater inheritance than you would have ever received from the likes of Gaius Mulciber.

That night, the blood pounded in Victoria's ears; her throat dry as she struggled to breathe. Her chest hurting as the world shook around her.

When she woke up the following day, it was as if she never slept.