"Only advanced dark magic can curse a flying broomstick," Ron said. "I heard my dad talk about it. Traditional craftsmanship makes broomsticks highly protected and hard to tamper with, unlike modified Muggle vehicles. Most wizards' curses can't find a chink in a broomstick's defenses…"
Ron began to unleash the sharp intellect that Harry so admired.
"An underage wizard could hardly have that kind of dark magic skill—unless it's you, Harry. I believe you could do it…"
"No, I couldn't," Harry replied.
Of course, cursing something like that required learned skill, and Harry hadn't studied it.
Without knowledge, even charm and magical power were useless for such delicate techniques. Brute force was the only option.
Ron's rat was a prime example of brute force at work, but that was only because he'd already taught himself basic Transfiguration.
Hogwarts didn't teach real curses, though. Advanced and cutting-edge dark magic wasn't part of the curriculum, even for seventh years. You'd have to sneak into the Restricted Section to learn it.
Among the professors, probably only Dumbledore and Snape knew some advanced dark magic.
Even minor curses were passed around among students. The professors likely knew plenty but wouldn't teach them. The only course that came close, Defense Against the Dark Arts, was taught by that useless Quirrell.
No wonder Snape sometimes griped about not teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Why let those insects teach it?" he'd say. "How can they possibly educate anyone properly?"
But if Snape did teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, who'd handle Potions? One professor teaching seven years across four houses—two houses per class—would be run ragged.
Harry understood why Dumbledore didn't let Snape switch. If students struggled with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms could compensate. But there was no substitute for Potions. Potions was critical.
Harry didn't like Snape, but the man taught real skills. He'd even taken extra care with Harry's advanced Potions lessons.
"It's only because you don't bother with curses, Harry," Ron said. "I'm sure if you studied dark magic, even the Dark Lord wouldn't stand a chance. You'd be a Dark God."
"What are you talking about?" Hermione snapped. "Harry would never learn those corrupting tricks."
"I'm just making a point," Ron said. "Do you think Harry couldn't surpass You-Know-Who?"
"Let's focus on the matter at hand," Harry interrupted, cutting off Ron's flattery and what sounded like courtly scheming.
Harry had seen real palace intrigue before. He could read people's characters better than most. Compared to the emperors in those dramas, he was far too clever for petty tricks to work on him.
"Er, right…" Ron said, thinking hard. "Why didn't they curse you directly? Oh, that's suicide—the Killing Curse didn't even work on you. Stupid question. Back to the broom… I'm guessing it wasn't a student. Could it have been a professor?"
Harry nodded, impressed. Ron was providing insights and analyzing on his own.
Ron really had the potential to be a strategist. With some nurturing in that direction, he could grow to be as good as Harry himself!
Harry hadn't told Ron about Voldemort's spy, Quirrell, lurking at Hogwarts. He'd only shared that secret with Dumbledore.
Dumbledore probably hadn't told anyone else, though Snape clearly knew something was off with Quirrell.
Professors like McGonagall and Hagrid acted normal around Quirrell.
"It was Snape," Hermione said suddenly. "He was definitely cursing your broom, Harry. He was muttering under his breath, eyes fixed on you. I saw him from the stands."
"Nonsense," Hagrid said. He'd been watching the match and hadn't noticed Snape. "Why would Snape do such a thing?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. Harry hadn't told them about Snape's… preferences, but they'd discussed how Snape might be after Dumbledore's treasure and got bitten by the guard dog.
"We found out some things," Ron told Hagrid. "On Halloween, Snape tried to get past that three-headed dog. It bit him. We think he's trying to steal whatever it's guarding."
Hagrid slammed his teapot down.
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he demanded.
"Fluffy?" Harry asked.
"Yeah—he's mine. Got him from a Greek bloke I met at an inn last year. Lent him to Dumbledore to guard—"
"What?"
"Enough!" Hagrid barked. "That's top secret, got it?"
"But Snape's trying to steal it," Hermione pressed.
"Nonsense," Hagrid said again. "Snape's a Hogwarts professor. He'd never do such a thing."
"Then why's he trying to kill Harry?" Hermione demanded.
The afternoon's events had clearly shifted her view of Snape.
"I know a curse when I see one, Hagrid," she said. "I've read all about them! You need to maintain eye contact to cast them. Snape didn't blink once—I saw it!"
"I'm telling you, you're wrong!" Hagrid snapped. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted up, but Snape would never try to kill a student! Now, all three of you, listen—this is none of your business. It's dangerous. Forget the dog. Forget what it's guarding. This is between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"
"Aha!" Harry said. "So there's someone named Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"
Hagrid looked furious with himself for letting that slip.
Harry hadn't expected to get a lead so easily.
But something felt too convenient. From Snape to Hagrid, it was as if everything was luring him toward Dumbledore's treasure.
Snape seemed to be saying, "If you don't steal it, I will."
Hagrid seemed to be saying, "This treasure is incredible."
They might not mean it—maybe it was all coincidence. Harry was certain Hagrid didn't intend to set him up. Still, the string of coincidences put him on guard.
Then it hit him. This could be a trap set by Dumbledore—or a test!
He was testing whether Harry was greedy enough to go after the treasure. If Harry tried to steal it now, he'd fall right into the trap.
There wouldn't be any treasure. Dumbledore would be waiting at the end, with every professor ready to spring a web of magical traps to defeat Harry and force him into servitude!
Christmas was coming.
One morning in mid-December, the grounds were blanketed in several feet of snow, and the lake was frozen solid.
The Weasley twins had been punished for enchanting snowballs to chase Quirrell around and smash into the back of his turban.
When Harry heard, he worried for them. That turban was definitely dangerous.
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