Chapter 69

"What was that?"

The magic felt sharp…almost as if it wanted to hurt, not kill…like it wanted to cut.

"Diffindo?"

"From the list Potter. Diffindo at its worst can only cut a few millimeters of flesh. It is neither dark nor dangerous."

Harry ran his finger down the list, wavering between a Sectumsempra and Excacuere. Realising that Sectum meant 'cut', he said, "Sectumsempra?"

Ping!

Mind Arts, Lv-5 (7%)

The act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings, either with others or one's own self. One of the rarest magics today due to its regulated teaching.

Cost-40 MP per use

Somehow, using his Gamer's mind for shielding and sensing spells seemed to be leveling up his Mind Arts. It was almost as if exercising one facet of his mind was somehow exercising everything related to it.

Or maybe Gamer's Mind was actually a form of modified Occlumency, in which case, strengthening his Mind Arts skill was somehow bettering his Gamer's Mind, which was amazing.

"Correct. Now rest for a few minutes. I have to see to a potion."

Snape walked over to the potions station along the wall and started dicing some kind of slivery looking fruit. Harry sat down on the chair that stood near the working professor and closed his eyes, letting the smooth magic of potion making waft through his senses. If this was how it felt for Professor Snape to brew potions, Harry could definitely see why the Professor chose to have a Potions position and not DADA, even though the man was clearly well versed in Dark Arts and their counters. Speaking of which…

Getting his courage up, Harry asked, "Professor, is it true that you wanted to teach DADA?"

There was a moment of silence and Harry had wondered if he'd gone too far. Then came the reply, "I did apply for the position yes."

"So why didn't they give the position to you. You're clearly a better teacher than Quirrell."

"I'm sure Professor Quirrell will do a fine job of teaching you. You should respect his abilities more Mr. Potter," His tone was sly, almost sarcastic.

But Harry was feeling conflicted.

He'd have to tell someone about Quirrell soon. He couldn't let someone like that man teach a school full of children. He'd considered McGonagall and Flitwick, but right now the teacher who was most likely to believe him was the one he was talking to right now.

"Professor…I have to tell you something."

Harry told an extremely edited version of the story of the previous night to him. He told him that he'd been out of bounds in order to visit the library and had seen Quirrell put on a hooded robe and then he had followed him to the Forbidden Forest, where he'd seen him hunt down a unicorn and promptly run away.

"You shouldn't have followed him," Snape said. He put down the ladle he was stirring the potion with and put the fire on medium. Then he turned to Harry.

"It appears that Quirinus Quirrell…is a more dangerous man than I initially anticipated. The fact that he hasn't harmed any students in the school shows that he's after something else, something that requires the school remaining open. Something powerful and useful enough that he'd risk drinking unicorn blood for it. You know what drinking unicorn blood does, don't you Potter?"

"Afraid not Professor."

"It is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips," The Professor's voice was quiet, and after he finished talking, the silence weighed heavy on the entire room.

"What…what could even be worth it?" Harry whispered, last night's memory of the broken unicorn fresh on its mind.

"You're an intelligent student Potter. You'll work it out yourself. But when you do, think twice before going after it. There are people who'd rather have you go after it as a test of your character…to see whether you are worthy of the trust this world places on you." He paused, as if deliberating whether to say what he wished to or not. "But I say don't. You don't owe this world a thing."

Harry vowed that he would remember that.

The Professor picked up his wand and they both resumed their initial positions. Harry sensed another spell splashing harmlessly into the obsidian wall behind him.

"What was that?" the professor's silky voice asked.

Harry looked down at the only spell left on his list.

"…Avada Kedavra."

When Professor Snape had let Harry go, the time was well after the curfew. And of all people, who should Harry run into while he walked through the dungeons towards the stairs to the Entrance Hall but the crown prince of Slytherin himself, Draco Malfoy.

"Heir Malfoy," Harry acknowledged in the usual stuck-up-fantasy-book-nobleman-character style that he had perfected through hours of practicing in front of the mirror as the blond boy fell into step beside him, "Is it not too late for students to be out of bed?"

"I could say the same about you Heir Potter," The blond replied in kind before stopping Harry with a hand on the shoulder, "You have been avoiding me."

He was right. Harry had been avoiding the Slytherin. Mostly because Draco Malfoy's reputation as a bully had alienated him from most of the other three houses, but also because the boy confused him a little. His identity as an abused kid who loved his father confounded the heck out of Harry, and since he spent a lot of time with the Ravenclaw boys both in and out of class, who weren't very keen on seeing him talk to Malfoy, he usually tried to stay away.

Well, that and Harry wasn't very fond of the obnoxious boy who liked to pick on Neville whenever he saw him.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. And you haven't done yourself any favors by alienating most of the other houses. I have yet to meet a student outside of Slytherin that wants to even be seen around you." Harry replied, falling into the same cold persona that he used to deal with the pureblood.

The blond let go of his shoulder. "What are you ta-"

He was cut off by a meow that echoed through the corridor.

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