Leo's expression turned blank.
Because Professor Quirrell wasn't looking at Carlotta anymore.
He was looking directly at Leo.
Not just looking.
Staring.
The timid professor's eyes seemed oddly focused for a brief moment, completely unlike his usual nervous self.
The classroom suddenly felt colder.
The lazy thoughts inside Leo's head vanished instantly.
Gone.
Not weakened.
Gone.
As though they had never existed.
Every nerve in his body became alert.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
"Mr. Nicholas."
Quirrell's voice stuttered.
"Y-you seem to have something to say as well."
The entire classroom turned to look at Leo.
Carlotta sat down immediately.
Traitor.
Leo maintained a perfectly calm expression.
"No, Professor."
Quirrell continued staring at him.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the professor smiled awkwardly.
"I-I see."
He turned back toward the blackboard.
The lesson continued.
Leo slowly relaxed.
Not completely.
Only enough to avoid looking suspicious.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Quirrell had heard their whispering.
That part was understandable.
The classroom wasn't large.
But the moment he looked at Leo, Leo had felt something.
A sensation similar to the Sorting Hat.
Similar to Legilimency.
Similar to being observed by something ancient and unpleasant.
The feeling lasted less than a second.
Then it disappeared.
Leo quietly adjusted his glasses.
The silver frames carried several alchemical improvements now.
Most importantly, they suppressed mental interference.
At least in theory.
He glanced toward the back of Quirrell's purple turban.
A ridiculous thought entered his mind.
Then he immediately stopped it.
No.
Thinking about that situation was dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
A Dark Lord attached to a professor's skull wasn't something an eleven-year-old should investigate.
The lesson continued.
Professor Quirrell spoke about dark creatures.
Specifically vampires.
An unfortunate choice considering the amount of garlic currently attacking everyone's senses.
Several students struggled to pay attention.
Others fought yawns.
Leo watched Quirrell carefully.
The professor's nervousness seemed genuine.
His stutter seemed genuine.
His fear seemed genuine.
Yet Leo couldn't shake the memory of that brief stare.
The stare had been wrong.
Far too wrong.
At one point Quirrell moved between rows of desks.
When he reached Leo's row, he paused.
Only briefly.
Then he continued walking.
Leo noticed another detail.
The garlic smell became stronger whenever Quirrell approached.
Much stronger.
As though the scent wasn't coming from the room.
As though it was coming from him.
Carlotta clearly noticed too.
Her nose wrinkled.
Draco looked mildly green.
By the time the lesson finally ended, everyone escaped with obvious relief.
The moment they stepped into the corridor, Draco took the tissue from his nose and inhaled deeply.
"Fresh air."
Carlotta looked equally grateful.
"I never want to smell garlic again."
Leo said nothing.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
The lazy feelings had disappeared for nearly the entire class.
Not because he had overcome them.
Not because they had vanished.
Something had scared them away.
The realization bothered him.
A lot.
Whatever was happening inside his mind seemed capable of reacting to outside influences.
That meant it wasn't simple exhaustion.
And it definitely wasn't ordinary laziness.
The three continued through the corridor.
Students filled the castle as afternoon classes ended.
Everyone seemed eager for the upcoming flying lesson.
First years from every house had been talking about it since breakfast.
Even Draco looked excited.
"You've flown before, right?" Carlotta asked.
Draco nodded immediately.
"Of course."
"My father taught me."
Carlotta looked impressed.
Then she turned to Leo.
"What about you?"
Leo considered the question.
"I've never ridden a broom."
"Really?" Draco looked surprised.
"Really."
Carlotta suddenly grinned.
"Then we'll finally get to see something Leo doesn't already know."
Leo looked at her.
She looked very pleased about that possibility.
Unfortunately for her, Leo wasn't worried.
Flying was flying.
Whether by broom, magical cloak, or his own improvised levitation method, the principles weren't completely unfamiliar anymore.
The real problem was something else.
If he got on a broom right now...
Would the lazy thoughts return?
Would they interfere?
Would he accidentally fall?
That possibility wasn't comforting.
They reached the courtyard where first-year flying lessons were held.
Two groups had already arrived.
Gryffindor.
And Slytherin.
Hermione waved immediately when she spotted them.
Harry and Ron followed.
The six quickly gathered together.
"Leo!" Ron said.
"Feeling better?"
"Much."
"Madam Pomfrey said he was fine," Carlotta answered before Leo could.
Hermione adjusted her books.
"That's good."
Then she looked toward the line of broomsticks arranged across the grass.
A hint of uncertainty appeared on her face.
Flying, apparently, wasn't something she had studied extensively.
The sight comforted Ron enormously.
At least there was one magical subject Hermione couldn't immediately dominate.
A whistle suddenly cut through the courtyard.
Madam Hooch strode toward them.
Her yellow eyes swept over the assembled first years.
She looked sharp enough to spot trouble before it happened.
Which meant she would probably have a difficult year.
"Welcome, first years."
Her voice carried across the field.
"Stand beside a broom."
Students quickly obeyed.
Leo found himself standing between Harry and Draco.
A school broom lay at his feet.
It looked old.
Worn.
Practical.
Nothing like the expensive racing brooms advertised in magical magazines.
Madam Hooch raised her voice.
"When I say so, place your hand above the broom and command it to rise."
Students nodded.
Some looked excited.
Others looked terrified.
"Now."
The instructor's whistle sounded again.
"Up!"
Immediately, voices erupted across the field.
"Up!"
"UP!"
"Come on!"
Several brooms jumped into waiting hands.
Many remained stubbornly on the ground.
Some rolled away.
One hit a student's ankle.
Draco's broom flew neatly into his palm.
Carlotta succeeded on her second attempt.
Harry's worked almost immediately.
Ron needed three tries.
Hermione looked offended by her broom's refusal to cooperate.
Leo stared down at his own broom.
The lazy voice whispered.
Too troublesome.
Why call it?
Just pick it up.
Leo's eye twitched.
No.
Absolutely not.
"Up."
The broom shot into his hand instantly.
Unfortunately, it arrived with far too much enthusiasm.
Smack.
The wooden handle slammed directly into his palm.
Several nearby students jumped.
Harry winced.
Draco coughed.
Carlotta laughed.
Leo stared at the broom.
The broom stared back.
Or at least it felt that way.
For some reason, he had the distinct impression that this flying lesson was not going to be peaceful.
....
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