HRHL# Chapter 53: Ambush Quirrell

Harry slipped the biting Chinese cabbage into a small pouch—one he had bought earlier in Diagon Alley from a rather mysterious wizard.

The pouch, enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, was no longer legally sold. Exceptions were made only for trunks, which first-years had to purchase from specific vendors.

He also stuffed a pair of dragon-hide gloves into his pocket. Without gloves, handling the Chinese biting cabbage could leave your hands in a terrible state.

“I should also pick up some biting cabbage seeds next time I’m in Diagon Alley,” Harry thought. Neville happened to be quite skilled at cultivating plants like these, so it’d be a good task to delegate.

But biting cabbage seeds weren’t sold to young wizards like him in Diagon Alley. For those, he’d need to venture into the neighboring Knockturn Alley.

Harry tucked the small pouch securely and tiptoed out of the dormitory.

When he returned to the Great Hall, the twins were clearly growing impatient.

“Oh, finally!” Fred exclaimed.

“Fred thought you’d chickened out and found some excuse to bail,” added George.

“Relax. Even if you two bail on me, I wouldn’t run. Gryffindor doesn’t lack courage, right?” Harry retorted.

“Courage like getting Quirell to remove his suspicious turban?” The twins exchanged glances and clapped their hands together. “Yeah!”

“Listen.” Harry sat down, tapping the table with his finger. “Here’s the plan: the three of us will follow Quirrell according to schedule. You two are in charge of throwing snowballs. If Quirrell takes off his turban, great. If not, I’ll handle the next part. Got it?”

“Got it, Lion King,” the twins said in unison.

“Good.” Harry glanced at the clock. “It’s 7:50 now. We’ve got ten minutes to set up an ambush—”

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the hall.

The weather was bitterly cold, and even Hedwig seemed lethargic, crash-landing into Harry’s arms as if she’d been shot down.

“Your bird doesn’t look too well,” Fred remarked. “I think you should get her some owl tonic. The weather’s brutal.”

“You’re right,” Harry agreed, taking the letter from Hedwig’s beak.

“Ooh, ooh—” George’s eyes lit up as he noticed the handwriting on the envelope. “Looks like it’s from a girl…”

“Enough, George. Respect people’s privacy,” Fred chided, pulling George back. Then he turned to Harry. “We’ll scout ahead for you.”

“Thanks, I’ll be there soon,” Harry replied.

Once the twins left, Harry opened the letter. A faint scent of vanilla wafted up as he unfolded the parchment. The message read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

I must apologize for what happened yesterday. Being a Slytherin Prefect carries not only honor but equal responsibility.

Might you have time today? I’ll be waiting in the empty classroom on the second floor. Please let your owl carry your reply. I’ll wait for your response.

Sincerely yours,
Gemma Farley

“Miss Farley?”

Harry folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope.

What on earth was she up to?

Since the invitation was extended, Harry saw no reason to refuse.
I’m a Gryffindor—how could I possibly fear a Slytherin?

Harry mused, borrowing paper and a quill from a cheerful Hufflepuff boy nearby to pen a reply. He handed it to Hedwig for delivery.

“Thanks for the paper and quill,” Harry said, returning them to the boy. “Hi, I’m Harry Potter.”

“Of course I know who you are!” The boy grinned brightly, extending a hand. “Cedric Diggory. You can call me Cedric.”

“Thanks, Cedric.” Harry nodded, pointing to the door. “Sorry, the Weasley twins are waiting for me outside.”

“Don’t let me hold you up, Harry,” Cedric chuckled. “Go on before they get impatient.”

Harry gulped down a glass of water from the table, bid Cedric farewell, and hurried outside.

The twins were already crouched behind the bushes outside, shivering against the biting wind.

“Guys.”

Harry greeted them as he ducked behind the bushes. His eyes immediately fell on a pile of snowballs behind them, resembling ammunition stocked for Napoleon’s artillery corps.

“What is this?!”

His eyes widened in shock. “The plan was to hit Quirrell! You’ve made enough snowballs to pelt every professor on campus, you lunatics!”

“Snowballs,” Fred explained without a hint of shame. “Meet our latest creation: ordinary version.”

Fred grabbed a snowball, about the size of two fists, and crushed it in his hand.

“This is the enhanced version,” George added, holding another snowball. Instead of crushing it, he brushed off the surface snow, revealing a glistening ice core.

Harry’s eyelid twitched. Good grief, these two were terrifying.

All I wanted was to toss a Chinese biting cabbage at Quirrell. And you two? What are you trying to do?!

“Isn’t this a bit much?” Harry ventured.

“Well,” Fred shrugged, “it beats enduring more garlic fumes. I’d rather have Snape teach Defense Against the Dark Arts—at least we’d learn something useful, even if Gryffindor loses points.”

“Shh!” George suddenly grabbed their sleeves and whispered, “Someone’s coming!”

The three of them peered over the bushes. Quirrell, clutching a book under one arm, strolled leisurely toward the Great Hall.

“Ready—” Fred whispered.

As Quirrell passed, his back fully exposed, the twins exchanged a glance, grabbed snowballs, and hurled them at the back of his turban.

“Who’s there?!” Quirrell yelped, flailing at the turban atop his head. But no matter how he swatted, he didn’t remove it.

The twins reached for the enhanced snowballs, but Harry stopped them.

“Let me,” he said.

Pulling on his dragon-hide gloves, Harry reached into the enchanted pouch. The twins watched in first confusion, then shock, and finally awe as Harry withdrew the Chinese biting cabbage.

The cabbage, roused by the cold wind, wiggled slightly and even sneezed.

Harry carried the cabbage and hurried toward Quirrell, pretending to trip and fall as he neared him.

The flowerpot shattered with a loud crack, and the round little cabbage bounced on the ground before springing into the air like a rogue Bludger.

In an instant, it latched onto Quirrell’s exposed neck.

“AAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

Quirrell let out an ear-splitting scream.