New Vessel

The battle erupted in the blink of an eye! The dim light of the Leaky Cauldron bar set the mysterious atmosphere.

Dudley was left bewildered by the sudden erratic behavior of Totoro. Everything unfolded at an astonishing pace!

In front of our eyes, Quirrell's mouth silently closed, creating an eerie silence. A sudden change in the air slowed down, as if an invisible hand caressed everyone's skin.

A peculiar sensation enveloped us... Totoro hung frozen mid-air, his body motionless!

"Stop, Quirrell! What's the meaning of this!?" Hagrid exclaimed, taking a step forward, his words echoing in the tense atmosphere.

Hagrid, positioned between Harry and Dudley, his fists clenched like large fan-like hands, ready to shield the students if necessary.

Quirrell's expression shifted from gloom to panic in an instant.

"No, no... It's not what you think! Hagrid, it's a misunderstanding," he stammered, attempting to explain as the situation spiraled unpredictably.

Totoro, magically suspended in the air, vanished, only to reappear right in front of Quirrell's face!

Attempting to evade, Quirrell leaned back, but not before a few shallow blood marks appeared on his cheeks.

Meanwhile, Dudley felt a soft touch in the palm of his hand. Looking down, he discovered my neighbor Totoro standing there, gesturing like a claw, clearly indicating something to Quirrell.

Perhaps this incident marked the onset of trouble, but the expected scene of Professor Quirrell getting provoked and enraged by Totoro didn't unfold. Instead, Quirrell calmly tended to his wounds.

"Professor Quirrell seems to be in a rough state, but don't take it to heart. These two are just kids. Nevertheless, I apologize on their behalf," Hagrid sighed, clearly distressed by the unexpected turn of events during what should have been an ordinary meeting. He silently blamed himself for agreeing to take Dudley's pet to the Leaky Cauldron.

"It's nothing... Really. Hagrid, you see, before I became a Dark Arts lecturer at Hogwarts, my focus was on Muggle studies and wizarding exploration," Quirrell explained, wiping the shallow wound on his face with a handkerchief, struggling to finish his sentence.

"Alright, Professor Quirrell, time is of the essence. These two students will be in your class in the future, and will have the chance to meet again. Let's leave now; more people are starting to notice." Hagrid, concerned, quickly ushered Dudley and Harry away from the gathering crowd.

As they left, Dudley cast a final glance back at Quirrell. Observing the wound on his face and the thick bandage wrapped around his head, Dudley noted the indifferent smile Quirrell maintained. Without saying a word, he followed Hagrid to a closed wall.

The wall was constructed of weathered masonry, displaying traces of its long existence. Harry, bewildered, asked in a hushed tone, "Mr. Hagrid, this is a wall... there's no way!"

Hagrid grinned and replied, "You see, this is not just a wall; it's a door!" He tapped the wall rhythmically with his umbrella. "Click!" A few peculiar sounds, and the wall opened from the center to the sides, leaving Harry in awe. Hagrid looked proudly at his handiwork, but Dudley's brows remained furrowed.

.....

In a separate room at the Leaky Cauldron Bar, the Hogwarts professor of dark magic, Quirinus Quirrell, stood in bewilderment. Candles flickered around him as he raised his hand to touch the strap above his head. Unlike before, his speech was now fluent, without the usual stutters.

"Great and supreme being, I heard your call. Your most devout servant, Quirinus Quirrell, is here, listening to your teachings," Quirrell proclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of dullness. A human face appeared on the back of his head, its features distorted, lips squirming.

"I felt it, that... Chinchilla," The face on his head spoke in a whisper.

Quirrell hesitated but continued, "Great master, do you mean the mouse from before?"

The face on his head interrupted, "Yes, that little guy's body has a feeling that makes me very close. Its abnormality is not only in claws and magical talent. I can feel it; it can be a perfect vessel for... carrying my soul. I need it."

As the voice spoke, Quirrell's knees involuntarily hit the ground, his voice filled with trepidation. "Lord... Master, you can't do this! Isn't my human body, your humble servant, comparable to a 'mouse'?"

...

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