Huffily Puffily || Golden Trio

A Lesson in Deception || xvii

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Lucy dreaded the first Wednesday she had to spend with Professor Quirrell.

She was well aware that this situation was entirely her fault. In her defense, it had been very funny seeing Quirrell make funny faces every time she heckled him, but still. She should have never voiced her suspicions about the man, simple logic could have told her that accusing a dangerous man of being dangerous could only end badly. But it had happened, and this was her mess, and it was up to her to work her way out of it.

Despite what Snape had told her, she tried telling the trio about Quirrell, only for Hermione to give her an oddly understanding look and thanked Lucy for telling her. She later overheard the three whispering about how Snape managed to brainwash Lucy, and the sooner they could stop him, the better.

Lucy wanted to bang her head against the wall after hearing that.

But she had to let Gryffindors be the stubborn Gryffindors they were. Maybe it was better that they thought Quirrell was the good guy— she found a dark irony in the fact that Harry started smiling reassuringly at the same man who tried to murder him.

She was worried that the first evening with Quirrell, he would put her through terrible trials to test her loyalty. Snape held her after class and gave her a portkey wrapped tightly in a handkerchief, and he instructed her to immediately make contact with it if she ran into trouble. He said it'd be too dangerous for her to report to him right away, but she had 'detention' with him Friday where she could tell him everything.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy knocked on the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom door and took a step back. It was a few moments before Quirrell opened the door and ushered her in. She grimaced as he locked it behind her.

"Evening, professor," Lucy smiled slightly, fiddling with the handkerchief in her pocket.

Quirrell's eyes looked over her appearance like he could somehow X-Ray her for signs of deception. Obviously he couldn't, for he looked away, satisfied. "Ms. Rochester. I see you've followed through with our agreement. A wise decision on your part," he tacked on the last part ominously, and she felt a chill run up her spine.

This was some sort of poetic justice on Quirrell's part, where he of all people managed to make Lucy nervous. The heckled becomes the heckler... what a joke.

Instead of voicing this, Lucy surveyed the classroom. It still reeked heavily of garlic, much to her dismay, but without the jeering classmates, she found that it actually looked like a proper study room. There were displays of dark creatures everywhere— a bit too many to be considered innocent— and a bookshelf filled with dark curses. The further she examined, she couldn't believe that nobody noticed Quirrell's true character in the first place. What sort of man had a stuffed werewolf head on a wall? Weren't werewolves technically humans?

"We'll start off simple, then," Professor Quirrell said, drawing Lucy from her thoughts. She looked back over to the man as he began pulling books off of the shelves. "If you are to be of any help to us, you need to know how to help. Study the theoretical histories, and I shall quiz you next week, and I'll see if you have some potential after all."

He dropped the books down on the desk directly in front of his podium. Placing her backpack down beside her, she slid into the seat and started rifling through the worn out backpack for quills and parchment. At first she had been teased for the muggle-esque thing, but it was way more convenient than lugging a bookbag around on one shoulder, so she ignored everyone who had something to say.

As she started working, she was surprised at how uneventful this nefarious meeting was turning out to be. At his desk, Quirrell was grading assignments rather than plotting world domination. She tried to block him out as much as she could as she read the words in front of her.