Scarlet had little interest in Quidditch, but she suspected Quirrell might try something, so she needed to be present just to keep an eye on him.

Scarlet sat beside Maya, who was watching her first Quidditch match. Amelia was busy explaining the rules and showing Maya how to use the binocular. They both understand Scarlet wasn’t interested in the game, so they didn’t bother her much, except when something exciting happened. Scarlet was content with her corner seat, where her calm demeanour went unnoticed.

Her eyes mostly stayed on the staff and guest table, where the best view was, and she soon spotted Quirrell sitting in the back, where few would pay attention to him. His frowning expression suggested he still hadn’t healed from his injury.

The crowd cheered and gasped with every move the players made. Suddenly, Maya gasped, “Potter’s broom is jerking - is that normal?”

“No! Something’s wrong with his broom!” Amelia cried out.

Scarlet quickly noticed Quirrell’s eerie, with his stare focused on the field. But she also saw Professor Snape, silently muttering something...likely trying to stabilise Harry’s broom.

Reacting swiftly, Scarlet sketched a few runic characters in the air. Hidden within a gust of wind, a sharp wind blade sliced through the air, unnoticed by the crowd, and nicked Quirrell’s hands as they clasped in front of him, as if he were simply enjoying the game.

Startled, Quirrell flinched. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was enough to draw blood and break his concentration. He began scanning the audience, searching for the source of the attack. Scarlet quickly ducked under the bench, pretending to tie her shoelaces.

“How’s Potter now?” she asked Maya, her head still lowered.

“He’s managed to steady his broom. Maybe it was just some error after getting hit by another player.”

“Good,” Scarlet replied, rising as she resumed watching Quirrell. He was still scanning the crowd, but then his eyes locked on hers, as if trying to remember something. Their encounter on Halloween at the third-floor corridor must have left an impression, but he soon looked away and continued searching...He didn’t take the bait.

A pity. If he had took the bait and attacked, she could have reported him to the headmaster, dealing a significant blow to his plans and reducing his chances of going after Harry.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Harry caught the Snitch, ending the game with a spectacular move. Even Maya, normally so reserved, screamed in excitement for him. Well, this’ll just add to his fame, Scarlet thought, amused.

Quirrell made a quiet retreat as the game come to a close, seemingly unable to make any further moves. Scarlet had already given pendants to the centaurs, blocking his attempts to heal through the unicorns. Since his plan seemed to involve knocking Harry off his broom – likely to injure him and keep him in the hospital wing – he was probably aiming to kill two birds with one stone: steal healing potions, and eliminate Harry.

Now, what’s his next step...Scarlet mused. With Christmas approaching, Quirrell wouldn’t have many opportunities to get near Harry since Harry would be away from Hogwarts. Then she paused, considering something. Wait, he could follow Harry to his godfather’s place... or tail him right after he leaves the station...

Scarlet’s thoughts were interrupted when she bumped into Professor Snape, who fixed her with a calculating look and gave a subtle indication for her to follow.

“Nothing has been taken from my office,” Professor Snape said in a low, guarded tone. “But several potions have gone missing from the hospital wing.”

“During the chaos when Madam Pomfrey busy was treating the injured students after the match?” Scarlet replied, smiled knowingly. “I suspected as much. If Harry had ended up in the hospital wing, Quirrell would’ve definitely visit him at night. Who knows what he might have done then.”

Professor Snape’s gaze sharpened. “So, Ms. Hong, what precisely do you propose we do about it?” he asked, his voice edged with scepticism.

“Well, Quirrell won’t have any more chances to get near Harry or the unicorns while he’s at Hogwarts. I’ve already put protective measures in place. His next move will likely be during the Christmas holidays when people are distracted,” Scarlet replied with a slight nod, “He’ll either follow Harry to find an opportunity, or focus on the item guarded on the third floor. I’ll keep an eye on Harry over the holidays, but as for the third floor...”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“The third-floor,” Professor Snape interrupted shapely. His eyes flashed with irritation. “I am well aware of the risks and require no assistance from an overreacting first-year. As for you, see that you don’t make reckless promises you cannot keep.”

“Of course.” Scarlet bowed slightly in acknowledgement before adding, “Incidentally, Professor, thank you for your concern over how I derived my essay today. The Professor found it inappropriate, but acceptable - he warned me not to ‘encourage bad habits’ among the other students.”

Professor Snape’s expression hardened, though his tone dipped with mock appreciation. “Indeed, Ms. Hong. A brilliantly unconventional approach,” he said dryly, pausing before adding, “I’ve already taken the liberty of making copies of your essay for the class – though, unlike you, most will struggle with such ‘creativity’. They’ll have until the end of next week to meet these...elevated standard.”

“What a considerate arrangement I fought for them, ensuring it doesn’t start from our next class,” Scarlet gave a brief nod, exiting the room, unaware the gleam of amusement in his gaze.

November slipped away, and the holiday season arrived. The school buzzed with excitement as student grew scatterbrained over Christmas, eagerly discussing their plans for the break.

Quirrell attempted to hunt the unicorns again, but fled the moment he spotted Scarlet standing in the woods, spear in hand. That encounter made Scarlet realise that this soul fragment wanted to avoid drawing attention at all costs. This unnerved her even more, for a lurking snake was far more dangerous than a roaring tiger; you could predict what a tiger would do, but not a snake.

Harry was especially excited, as he’d be spending Christmas at his godfather’s house this year. Ron, on the other hand, was downhearted; his family – his parents and his little sister – were off to Romania to visit his older brother, Charlie, leaving Ron, the twins, and Percy at Hogwarts.

Scarlet, busy handling out her newly received business card to her assistants, overheard the conversation. She approached the Gryffindor table and asked the Weasleys, “Would you like to join me and my family for Christmas?”

Ron looked shocked, while Fred and George appeared to seriously consider the offer, surprising him even more – since when had his brothers gotten so chummy with Scarlet?

“I thought you came from a Muggle family--” Fred started.

“--won’t it be a problem letting us join your Christmas?” George finished.

Scarlet waved off the twins’ concern. “My dad’s actually curious about the wizarding world. You can share your experience with him, and I bet he’s got some interesting stories that might inspire you to invent something.”

“But there’ll be four of us...” Ron hesitated. “Oh, wait - Percy probably won’t come. He’d rather have a quiet time studying.”

“That’s not an issue. I’m living in a manor on the outskirt, with plenty of rooms for anyone who prefers a quiet moment.” Scarlet handed them her business card as well. “Besides, it’d be good to let Mrs. Weasley know about the invitation. Perhaps she could convince Percy to join too? It’s a family season, and I’d feel bad if he was the only Weasley left behind at Hogwarts while the rest of you are enjoying yourselves at my place.”

“Good idea! I’ll write to mum,” Ron said, quickly pocketing the little card before pulling out some parchment and beginning his letter. Meanwhile, Fred and George examined the business card with interest.

Fred read aloud, “Scarlet Smith Hong...Contact numbers...”

George added, “--Local, international...and an address?”

Even Harry looked confused. “Director of MapleFox Studio...specialised in rebranding handmade and local product...Eco-friendly...”

Hermione, passing by at that moment, accepted a card as well. She instantly recognised the details “Scarlet, you have a business card? ‘Best coconut coal from Africa, handmade soap from third-world communities’...Sounds like a solid business.”

Scarlet pointed to a handwritten address and phone number at the bottom. “And this is my home address and phone number. You can visit me during the holidays, but remember to give me a call beforehand. Or if you can’t reach me through this, I’m probably not in England - just contact my office, my manager will sort it out.”

“I’ll definitely give you a call!” Hermione said excitedly. Harry nodded too. “I’ll try finding a phone box and give you a ring. But I’ll probably still send an owl.”

The Weasleys, however, were puzzled.

“What’s a ‘phone’?” Fred asked.

“And what do these numbers mean?” George added.

“Why are there local and international numbers?” Ron chimed in.

Scarlet grinned, “Well, come to my house, and I’ll show you what a phone is.”

“Sure thing!”

“Hurry up, Ronny--”

“--we’ve got to get mum’s permission!”

Neville, standing nearby, took one of her cards too, but quietly requested a private place to talk. They left the Great Hall, walking into a quiet corridor where snow drizzled outside, sending a cold breeze their way. Neville looked a bit embarrassed for suggesting the private chat, but Scarlet gently tapped his shoulder, warming him up with a touch.

Neville always knew there was something special about Scarlet’s magic, something different from what they learned at school. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” Scarlet said with a shrug. “So, what’s on your mind? Oh, by the way, if you’re staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, I’ll still need your news summaries delivered as usual.”

Neville shook his head. “No, I’m going home for Christmas.”

“Well then, no news reports for me during the holidays,” Scarlet teased. “If that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be - I’ll manage.”

“My gran subscribes to the Daily Prophet and a few other magazines,” Neville explained quickly. “I could still send you reports through our family owl.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Neville,” Scarlet said with a smile. “But what else is on your mind?”

Neville hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, “I...I want to invite you to a place.”

“Oh? Where?”

“St. Mungo’s,” Neville said quietly, “That is, if you’re still interested. I remember you mentioned wanting to visit when I was in the hospital wing.”

Scarlet’s expression softened. “Yes, I did want to visit. But...I didn’t think we could just go in without a reason.”

Neville’s voice wavered slightly as he said, “My parents are there.”