November at Hogwarts marked the Quidditch season, though Scarlet couldn’t quite understand why a wizarding school without any physical education would choose to have its student compete for the Quidditch Cup during such a freezing month. To be fair, most Hogwarts students fit the stereotypical notion that “while they may be clever, most magic user are physically frail”, much like how wizards are portrayed in D&D or video games. The only exception seemed to be the Quidditch players.

Even then, when she looked at Harry, he didn’t strike her as particularly athletic. But, of course, he was the protagonist - so it wasn’t her concern anyway.

Quirrell was absent at breakfast that morning. The curse from her spear must have caused him quite a bit of trouble.

She finished her breakfast quickly, packed some food into a lunch box in case she got hungry later, and made her way to the Potions Master. “Good morning, Professor Snape. I’ve come across some difficulties with potion brewing and was hoping to ask for your insight to help me approach it better.”

Professor Snape shot her a stern glare, wiped his mouth, and stood. “Follow me,” he said curtly, striding away at a brisk pace.

His steps were so quick his robe billowed behind him like a flag, and Scarlet had to be careful not to step on it accidentally - choking the Potions Master would certainly cost her House some points.

They soon reached his office, where he immediately locked the door with a flick of his wand. “Ms. Hong,” he began in a low, foreboding tone, “if this request for my ‘insight’ involves any reckless endeavours, I’ll have little patience for your excuses.”

“I know my limits, Professor,” Scarlet replied quickly, sensing his suspicion. “I encountered the soul fragment in the Forbidden Forest.”

Professor Snape’s eyes narrowed, though he didn’t interrupt, waiting for her to continue. “I sensed Quirrell leaving the castle, so I followed him. But instead of Quirrell, I found a cloaked figure with a threatening aura hunting unicorns. I fought him, and managed to strike his shoulder with my spear. He’s injured, and the cursed wound won’t heal easily. He’ll either seek out you or the hospital wing for a remedy.”

His face remained impassive, though he scrutinised her closely, as if weighing her words for truth. “Why would a first-year student even consider following a professor?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “Do you understand the level of foolishness you’re describing?”

Scarlet hesitated but held his gaze. “I sensed a dark magic – a powerful, dangerous one. As for the details...it was something I needed to confirm.”

Snape’s expression softened slightly, though his scepticism didn’t fade. “I’ve heard you’re studying the magic of death and soul?” he pressed.

“Yes,” Scarlet confirmed, then continued, a note of regret in her tone, “but he’s far too skilled for me to handle. His reactions were quick, he showed no fear, and he cast non-verbal magic - spells or curses I don’t recognise yet. I’m still learning the basics. Otherwise, I would’ve captured him on the spot.”

“Captured?” Professor Snape echoed with a darkly amused look. “You overestimate your capabilities, Ms. Hong. Who precisely do you think you are dealing with?”

Scarlet gave a slight nod, conceding the point. “True, I lack the skills. But I doubt Quirrell’s a simple follower. I suspect he has multiple soul fragments.” Her words startled the Potions Master, though he concealed it with a slight frown.

“There’s one in Harry’s scar, one on Quirrell’s head, and I remember something about a diary... likely seven fragments in total,” She vaguely recalled seven films in the series, which likely meant seven fragments.

Professor Snape’s expression turned stony, his voice dangerously low. “What do you mean by ‘one in Potter’s scar’?”

Scarlet blinked, realising how shocking her words mush have sounded. “I’m not entirely sure how it happened – perhaps unintentional – but I believe a fragment of soul resides within Harry’s scar. I've considered ways to remove it...”

“Remove it?” Professor Snape’s voice cut through sharply, his disbelief evident. “And what exactly qualifies you to even consider such a thing?”

“Calm down, Professor Snape.” Scarlet raised a hand, trying to ease his tension. “Harry still has some kind of protection magic left by his mother; if my senses are correct. It should last a few more years. Besides, I’m not certain Professor Dumbledore would approve any immediate action, would he?”

She vaguely remembered reading online in her previous life about Dumbledore critics accusing him of being a master manipulator, treating everyone as mere pieces in his game. They argued that even his love for Harry was just because Harry was his weapon against the dark wizard, and that Snape’s death was part of his grand plan...or something like that, she wasn’t sure how accurate that was – she hadn’t kept up with the later parts of the series due to busy handling other cases caused by reckless casters.

Professor Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Dumbledore...has his reasons, I’m sure,” he muttered, his tone laced with something close to bitterness. “If indeed you have discovered fragments, then you realise the risks involved.” He looked at her sceptically. “Yet you claimed you’re simply a first-year. Tell me, where have you obtained such...advanced insights?”

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Scarlet shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Ancient magic, and a few clues here, some readings there. My only real concern now is the fragment on Quirrell’s head. It can move, take action, hunt unicorns, and is after whatever’s being guarded on the third floor. It’s far more dangerous and unpredictable.”

Professor Snape watched her in silence, his suspicion lingering but tempered by thoughtfulness. After what felt like a long silence, he finally unlocked the door with a flick of his wand, “I’ll consider what you’ve shared. This conversation is not to be discussed further.”

“Of course, Professor,” Scarlet replied, keep her tone polite. “In the meantime, I’ll do my best to keep Quirrell’s attention on me – though I think his focus will remain with Harry. Thank you, Professor, for your guidance. Today, I’ve learned so much about the Sleeping Draught.”

The Potion Master gave her a curt nod in response to her excuse, and Scarlet headed to her class. Her housemates were quick to praise her for having the courage to speak to the intimidating Potion Master in private.

Saturday was Harry’s first Quidditch match, and he had been on edge ever since learning the date. Not even Hermione and Ron could calm his nerves. On top of that, something felt off, but he didn’t know who to turn to. His suspicions sounded ridiculous, and both Ron and Hermione dismissed them as him overthinking.

Then, Harry noticed Scarlet sitting at her usual spot at the far end of the Hufflepuff table. It was where she often sat when receiving reports from her assistants and distributing the tasks. Ron always sighed with deep admiration, saying he could never manage something like that. Even Hermione was impressed, considering Scarlet an inspiring figure who always, seemed to know exactly what she was doing. They were all the same age, but Harry felt utterly lost in comparison, with no clear idea of what he wanted or where he was heading.

After Scarlet finished distributing tasks and her assistants had left, Harry realised he had wandered over toward her without even noticing. She looked up and caught his gaze.

“Anything I can help you with, Harry?” Scarlet’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Only then did he noticed he was standing right next to her. Feeling both frustrated and unsure, he nodded and sat down next to the most reliable friend he had.

“I think...something strange is happening with Professor Quirrell,” Harry began, his voice low, uncertain if Scarlet would believe him.

Scarlet listened intently, nodding for him to continue. “And what makes you thinking that?” she asked.

Harry hesitated, then explained. “There’ve been times when I look at him, my scar starts burning. It’s extremely painful. It doesn’t happen all the time, but over the past few days, it been happening more and more, especially when our eyes meet. I have to look away...and now Hermione thinks I’m not paying attention in class.”

Scarlet considered this for a moment. “Anything else besides that?”

“Well...he seems paler. He’s been walking slower, too, and I’ve seen him touch his shoulder like it hurts or something,” Harry added, looking puzzled. “He looked harmless, but at the same time, I get this strange, dangerous feeling around him.”

Just as Scarlet was about to respond, the flurry of owls swooping into the Great Hall interrupted them. Faye, Scarlet’s owl, landed in front of her, and Hedwig, Harry’s owl, arrived with a letter for Harry from his godfather. He took the letter, giving his owl a gentle pat, while Scarlet collected a small package and rewarded Faye with a few treats.

“Nice timing.” Scarlet said as she opened the package, taking out a beautiful greenish pendant unlike anything Harry had seen before. She muttered something under her breath, words Harry couldn’t quite make out, and traced symbols unfamiliar to Harry in the air above the pendant. Once she finished, she handed it to him. “Wear this under your robes, and don’t take it off. It should help with your scar. And remember, stay away from Quirrell.”

She whispered the last part into Harry’s ear, making him nervously whisper back, “What’s wrong with him?”

“You’ll know soon enough.” Scarlet replied, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “If anything happens, call me or any of the professors.”

Harry looked taken aback, “You’re making me even more nervous! I’m already wound up about the match!”

Scarlet blinked, “I thought you were looking forward to it?”

“I was, but...I can’t help it. I feel so anxious, I don’t even feel like eating,” Harry admitted, his tone sinking with frustration. “Hermione and Ron have been trying to cheer me up. Ron keeps talking about all the Quidditch matches he’s seen, and Hermione gave me a book to study - though the book was taken by Professor Snape...But the feeling won’t go away. It just keeps coming back.”

Scarlet thought for a moment, then offered, “Well, let’s try a method I use. It’s a bit silly, but it works.”

Harry’s curiosity was piqued.

“Think of the worst-case scenario,” Scarlet said. “Let’s say you lose the Quidditch match. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Harry’s mind racing as she began counting her fingers, “People might look down on you? Malfoy would sneer at you? Your teammates would be disappointed?”

“...And I’d end up getting expelled?” Harry added hesitantly.

“Hmm, I doubt that. But alright, let’s add it to the list,” Scarlet said, holding up another finger. “What else?”

“I’d have to go back to my aunt’s house?”

“Yes, and?”

Harry shook his head after a brief pause. “That’s all I can think of.”

“Okay, now let’s go over it,” Scarlet said, “Getting expelled and going back to your aunt’s house...What about your godfather? I heard from Hermione that Sirius Black is your Godfather. Wouldn’t he step in?”

Harry’s face lit up. “Yeah, Sirius would definitely help me.”

“So, do you really care if people look down on you?” Scarlet asked. Harry shook his head, “What about Malfoy? Would it bother you if he sneered at you?”

“Yes.”

“Which would be worse – Malfoy sneering at you or going back to your aunt’s house?”

“Going back to my aunt’s,” Harry said slowly. Nothing could top that.

“Right, so let’s be rational,” Scarlet continued. “Is it likely you’d get expelled just for losing a Quidditch match?”

“...No?”

“Exactly. It’s just a game. You’re not harming anyone, and you’re doing well in your academics. There’s no reason they’d expel you,” Scarlet said, her voice calm and steady. “Besides, even if they did, you still have your godfather to rely on, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, feeling a bit more at ease.

“Do you trust Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes...?”

“Well, wasn’t she the one who put you on the Quidditch team? No first-year has ever been allowed to play before, but she chose you,” Scarlet pointed out. “You can doubt yourself, but don’t doubt Professor McGonagall’s decision. She taught countless students, and yet she chose you. Doesn’t that prove something?”

Harry’s face brightened, “Thanks, Scarlet. I think I know what to do now.”

“Good.” Scarlet said with a smile, patting his shoulder as she stood. “Don’t forget to wear the pendant, and don’t worry. Leave the rest to me.”

Yes. After week of contemplation, Scarlet had finally made up her mind.

She would interfere the storyline. She wasn’t going to let anything bad happen to these students - not even Professor Dumbledore could stop her. Let the kids be happy. As the adult, even if only in soul, she would take action.