A magical journey that begins at Hogwarts

"Hmph! Wait a minute," said Ms. Pomfrey, then went to the shelf next to her, took down a small bottle of red medicine, and handed it directly to Aaron. "Drink this, then rest for one night, and you should be fine."

However, it's best not to use your right arm too much for the next two days, otherwise you might have to do it again.

"I understand!" Aaron said sincerely, and without hesitation, he grabbed the bottle and drank it down in one gulp.

This medicine tastes strange, bitter and astringent, extremely unpleasant to drink, but its effects are immediate.

Less than ten seconds after drinking it, Aaron felt a warm sensation on his arm, the pain was masked by a slight itch, and he was even able to do some light activities.

"Do you need a bandage put on your arm?" Mrs. Pomfrey asked.

"No need for this."

"If you don't want to go to the lounge, you can recuperate in the infirmary for two days. I'm sure Professor Snape will prepare a sick note for you."

Aaron was somewhat tempted, after all, he was injured, and being able to take two days of sick leave would be ideal.

There aren't any particularly important things in the first-year curriculum; most of the knowledge can be obtained from the textbook.

But looking at these empty white hospital beds, it always felt a bit strange, especially late at night.

Although Hogwarts has no shortage of ghosts, the environment is really affecting one's mood; the bed in the dormitory is much more welcoming.

"Thank you very much for your advice, Mrs. Pomfrey."

However, I don't want anyone to know that I'm injured.

Besides, I'm fine now, so I won't miss class.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Alright, little wizard, since you're so opinionated, I won't keep you any longer."

There are still twenty minutes until curfew; you can still make it back in time.

"Understood," Aaron said, then got up and walked towards the door.

To his surprise, Snape, with his expressionless face, escorted him all the way to the door of the common room without saying a word.

It's clear he cares about his students, but he's extremely bad at expressing himself.

“Professor, if you didn’t always have such a cold face, you would be more popular than anyone else,” Aaron said meaningfully.

"Ha! You think I'm concerned about you?"

Stop joking, I'm just worried you'll get lost or won't make it back to the common room in time.

If Filch catches us, it will be a disgrace to Slytherin.

"Yes, yes, you're a professor, you're right," Aaron said hastily, then made a gesture of invitation, but not towards the inside, but towards the passageway to the side.

After all, this is the students' common room. If he were to invite the serious Snape in, many students would probably have nightmares tonight.

Snape snorted and left expressionlessly.

Aaron gave the command, opened the door, and tiptoed towards his dormitory.

However, he happened to run into Malfoy, who looked at Aaron with surprise at his exhaustion written all over his face. "Where have you been? Why are you so late?"

Aaron glared at him. "Thanks to you, Professor Snape wanted me to join the House team, so he dragged me over to take the House team's test."

"More than two hours! I'm almost exhausted."

Malfoy's eyes darted around, a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation in his gaze. "You must have passed the test!"

"Of course, the senior members of the college team all agreed to let me be Slytherin's Seeker."

"That's great!" Malfoy said excitedly. "With you in charge, we're sure to defeat Harry Potter."

Aaron: ......

Just how much does this brat hate Harry Potter?

But never mind, we're all just eleven-year-olds, let's just treat this petty squabble as a joke.

"Ahem! We'll talk about that later."

You must keep my role as Slytherin's Seeker a secret; I don't want too many people to know before the official match.

"Don't worry, I'm always very tight-lipped," Malfoy assured him, patting his chest.

For some reason, seeing his confident demeanor, Aaron felt that he couldn't keep the secret.

Chapter 28 Voldemort's Accomplice

A little over a month passed quickly, and Christmas Eve was just around the corner.

Today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class is being held together by both Slytherin and Ravenclaw houses.

Professor Quirrell, still wrapped in a thick purple headscarf and holding a large chameleon, haltingly recounted the theories of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Although his speaking speed was unusual, the lesson was quite interesting compared to the dry history of astronomy and magic.

Especially the history of magic—I don't know what the school was thinking, they actually invited a ghost to teach the class.

Although ghosts have far more experience than living people, the ghost in charge of teaching is not very bright and often goes off-topic halfway through the lesson.

Professor Quirrell seemed to be in poor condition, much weaker than usual, and looked like he was recovering from a serious illness.

This was the professor's private matter, and Aaron wasn't interested in knowing what had happened to him, but there was one thing that bothered him.

That is, when Professor Quirrell strolled over to Aaron's side in the classroom, Abbe, who had been dozing off at the table, suddenly stood up.

It stood on the table with all four legs, baring its teeth at Professor Quirrell, its eyes fixed on his headscarf.

“Mr. Gaius, what’s wrong with your cat?” Quirrell asked nervously, but his body involuntarily took a step back.

Aaron immediately picked up Abe and said somewhat awkwardly, "Professor, my cat has been eating too much garlic lately, and your scent... is just too strong."

Aaron didn't believe this. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a class held twice a week, and with so much time since the start of the semester, there must have been at least a dozen classes. But Abe had never acted like this before!

Most importantly, our cat never eats garlic.

"Is that so?" Quirrell swallowed hard, looking at the fierce cat that might pounce at any moment. "I'm so sorry, shall I stay away?"

"This isn't appropriate!" Aaron said with a wry smile, then carried Abe to the other corner of the table. "It's better to keep it away from us."

As they increased their distance, both the man and the dragon seemed to return to normal. Abe still harbored a hint of hostility, while Aaron inadvertently noticed a glint of shrewdness in Professor Quirrell's eyes.

That cold, murderous gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

Holy crap! Professor Quirrell is definitely not simple, at least not as timid as he seems on the surface, or rather, his timidity is just an act.

This guy is definitely suspicious, otherwise he wouldn't be so disliked by Abe, who possesses divine attributes.

Suddenly, Aaron seemed to realize something: Could Professor Quirrell be the one Voldemort was possessing?

This possibility is not nonexistent; in fact, it's quite high.

Thinking of this, Aaron felt his back soaked with sweat, and then he instantly adjusted his state. If this guess was correct, then he absolutely could not let Quirrell notice anything unusual about him, otherwise he might have to face Voldemort ahead of time.

Although Voldemort's goal was to steal the Philosopher's Stone, he would never easily reveal himself before achieving his goal, but one can never be too careful!

Fortunately, Quirrell focused most of his attention on the harmless Abe and paid little attention to Aaron, completely missing the rich changes in his facial expressions in those short two seconds.

Aaron's mental fortitude was quite good; he remained 'normal' until the end of get out of class and left the classroom unscathed.

"That scared me to death! I thought Quirrell was going to keep me here!" Aaron thought with lingering fear, but also with a sense of relief.

As long as Quirrell doesn't suspect anything this time, he's confident he won't reveal any flaws when facing Quirrell next time.

As for now, it's best to let things take their course.

......

The afternoon class was a Charms class. After a long period of basic learning, Professor Flitwick was finally willing to teach the new students Charms.

Inside the classroom, Gryffindor and Slytherin students sat on the left and right sides respectively, each with a white feather on their desk. Professor Flitwick, who was the size of a dwarf, stood on a high stack of books to give his lecture.

"One of the basic skills of a magician is to levitate and take flight, which means having the ability to make objects fly."

"Have you all received the feathers?"

Hermione immediately raised her feather so that Professor Flitwick could see it very clearly.

"very good."

"Now, don't forget the wrist movement we've been practicing. First, a flick, then a shake. Let's do it together," Professor Flitwick said, drawing his wand to demonstrate.

"You must pronounce the incantation clearly, Yugadimur Leviosa, you guys train!"

In an instant, the students in the classroom began waving their wands and chanting spells over the feathers in front of them.

Aaron smiled and shook his head. He had learned these simple spells years ago. He had used this levitation spell to fly a kite when Abe was still an egg.

He simply waved his wand lightly, without even chanting a spell, and the pure white feather floated up, slowly drifting to the ceiling before coming to rest.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared silently at the feather floating in mid-air. While marveling at Aaron's talent, they couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration.

"Excellent! Look here, everyone! Mr. Gaius has succeeded!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed excitedly.

Then everyone tried even harder. Ron chanted the spell, but he had obviously forgotten the movement of his wrist. He kept swinging his wand, and the air was filled with the rustling sound of wind.

“No, stop! Are you going to gouge someone’s eyes out?” Hermione, who was sitting next to him, immediately interrupted him. “Besides, you mispronounced it. It’s Leviosa, not Laviasa.”

“You’re so smart, then you try it!” Ron said defiantly.

Hermione didn't say much, but simply picked up her wand and lightly flicked her wrist, "Yugardim Leviosa!"

The next moment, another feather flew into the air.

Ron was dumbfounded, pouting as he buried his face in his textbook.

The third to succeed was Draco Malfoy, but his gaze toward Hermione was full of resentment. Although he was the third to succeed, the gap between him and Aaron and Hermione was still a little too large.

They both succeeded on their first try, while he tried no less than five times.

“You’ve done quite well for your first time using this spell,” Aaron comforted him.

"But she..."

"Draco, your talent is quite remarkable."

But Hermione spends all her time outside of eating, attending classes, and sleeping reading. If you can do that, you won't be any worse than anyone else.

Malfoy paused for a moment, then looked at Hermione in astonishment and murmured, "Why was she sorted into Gryffindor? Shouldn't she be in Ravenclaw?"

"Who knows! Perhaps she has unwavering courage, which outweighs her thirst for knowledge."