The wheelchair-bound warrior is speedrunning Hogwarts.

Hagrid nodded, giving Hemera's head one last, reluctant pat: "See you next time, little one."

Back at the cabin, Hagrid tidied up the tea set while asking with concern, "Did you enjoy your walk on the Black Lake? Did you encounter any trouble?"

Vera shook her head: "Everything is calm, nothing has happened."

At lunchtime, Harley and Hermione finally finished their busy schedules, and the three of them reunited in the Great Hall.

"How's the training?" Vera handed Halle a glass of pumpkin juice.

Harry gulped down more than half a glass before panting and replying, "I'm exhausted! Wood is a devil!"

"By the way, how's Hemera today?" Hermione asked, remembering Hemera's schedule for the day.

Vera briefly described Xiaolong's progress, which drew a gasp of amazement from Harley.

"It can already catch rabbits? That's amazing!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, her green eyes sparkling. "I definitely have to go see it next time!"

Hermione smiled too: "It sounds like it's adapting very well."

Vera nodded, hesitated for a moment, and still didn't tell them about Quirrell.

Anyway, I've already decided to stand up the Dark Lord.

So that day, they went to the library after lunch as usual, and returned to the common room in the evening, each busy with their own things.

Vera sat by the window quietly reading, occasionally listening to Harley complain about how difficult her homework was, or to Hermione answering her questions about a certain spell.

Time passed by, and the sky gradually darkened.

"I'm going to take a shower," Vera said softly, closing the book, and pushed her wheelchair into the bathroom.

It's already seven o'clock.

As the sound of water filled the air, Vera tilted her head back, letting the warm water wash over her body, her long, silver-gray hair clinging wetly to her back.

With her eyes closed, she gently placed her fingers on the wall, precisely locating the office in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the fourth floor through the connection to the castle.

Quirrell was pacing back and forth in his office, his face contorted beneath a purple headscarf, glancing frequently toward the door, clearly growing impatient.

Voldemort's voice hissed in his ear: "She's not coming...that cunning little brat..."

“Master,” Quirrell said nervously, “perhaps she’s just late, let’s wait a little longer…”

"Fool!" Voldemort roared. "She was wary of you from the very beginning, and she's been avoiding you the whole time. Can't you see that?"

Quirrell hesitated for a moment: "Then, what should we do?"

Voldemort was silent for a moment, then his voice became even colder: "Since she won't submit obediently... then we'll just take action."

"Master...you mean...?"

"Tomorrow, go directly to her and use the Soul Reaper's Curse to make her go to that stupid half-giant and get the fire dragon."

Vera opened her eyes abruptly, water streaming down her cheeks, her heart pounding slightly.

As she expected, Voldemort was so easily provoked.

The incomplete soul, split into several Horcruxes, was indeed unstable; it was not only ugly but also irritable and easily angered.

She smiled silently, quickly turned off the tap, dried herself, changed into clean pajamas, and pushed her wheelchair back to her dormitory.

Harry and Hermione were already busy with their own things. When she saw her return, Harry looked up and asked, "Are you done washing up already?"

"Okay." Vera nodded, and approached them in a good mood. "Could you help me dry my hair?"

Before Harley could react, Hermione immediately put down her quill, took the towel Vera handed her, and stood behind her, gently wiping her wet hair.

Seeing Harley's displeasure, he smiled rather smugly, "Harley, don't forget you haven't finished your paper yet."

So, the task of drying Vera's hair had to be done by her.

Harley pouted and reluctantly picked up the quill pen again, but her eyes still couldn't help glancing this way.

Feeling Hermione's gentle movements, Vera unconsciously smiled, tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed this moment of tranquility.

"You seem to be in a particularly good mood today?" Although she was still struggling with her thesis, Harley couldn't help but ask out of curiosity.

Vera raised an eyebrow slightly: "Really? Maybe it's because Hermella has improved a lot."

She was only standing up the Dark Lord; she wasn't actually laughing happily.

Seeing Vera's beaming smile, Hermione gave a helpless smirk and held her head still: "Alright, don't move around."

"Oh, I see." Even though the Dark Lord had just made her jump up and down in anger, Vera still obediently tilted her head back, letting Hermione stroke her hair.

In fact, Vera was somewhat confused about why Voldemort insisted on targeting her.

The friendship between the three of them and Hagrid has never been hidden, but apart from Harley, who was once considered Voldemort's nemesis and rival, there was actually Hermione as an alternative.

Therefore, after realizing what Voldemort was planning, Vera would also keep an eye on Hermione's daily activities to prevent any accidents from happening.

Hermione's fingers gently combed Vera's long, silver-grey hair. The towel absorbed most of the moisture, and the hair shimmered softly in the firelight.

Vera squinted comfortably, like a cat being stroked.

Harley watched Hermione intently drying Vera's hair, then looked at Vera's relaxed and enjoying expression, and her slight displeasure quickly vanished.

She even felt that Vera's slightly squinted eyes at that moment were somewhat similar to Knox, who always liked to lazily curl up on the windowsill to bask in the sun.

Thinking of this, she couldn't help but smile secretly.

“Alright,” Hermione removed the towel and gently ran her fingers through Vera’s almost completely dry, smooth hair. “It’s almost dry. Remember to use a drying charm next time; it will be much faster and you won’t catch a cold.”

“Thank you, Hermione.” Vera turned to her and gave her a genuine smile. “It’s nice to feel this way sometimes.”

Hermione's face flushed slightly as she handed the towel back to her, muttering, "It's nothing."

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" Vera asked, seemingly casually, clutching a towel.

Hermione had just sat back down at the table when she heard her question and was taken aback. "Ron borrowed my class notes and probably won't be back for a day or two. Harley's going to play ball... What about you? Aren't you coming to the library with me?"

It's the library again, as expected.

Vera smiled, took her hand, and gently wiped the remaining water stains from her hands with a towel before saying, "Sorry, I might have something to do tomorrow."

"...I knew you'd say that." Hermione gave a light snort as if she had expected it, and then withdrew her hand from her palm. "Anyway, I'll be at the library tomorrow."

If you feel like looking for her, you can come anytime.

However… she guessed that this person wouldn’t come looking for her.

"Okay." Vera smiled and turned to look at Harley, who had been quietly watching them without them noticing.

"...I...I'll be done soon!" Harley quickly lowered her head, muttering as she scribbled rapidly across the parchment.

Vera looked at it for a while, then gently tapped the spot where her pen had just touched: "Take another look at the data here."

Harley blinked, then quickly turned her head and flipped through the book with a rustling sound before turning back to correct the numbers on it.

"Now there shouldn't be any problems, right?" She smiled smugly, her bright green eyes looking at her.

Before Vera could speak, Hermione, who was reciting the history of magic, reminded her, "Harley, your paper is still two inches long."

"Okay, okay, it'll be over soon..." Harley's face fell, and she could only lower her head and continue.

Vera looked at the two of them, turned around and hung the towel on the rack next to her. The unconscious smile on her lips betrayed her current mood.

Chapter 128 Fishing

The next day, Vera unusually stayed home, and even breakfast and lunch were brought back to her from the Great Hall by Hermione before she went to the library.

According to her, she is not in good health and therefore not very strong. It is normal for her to rest in her dormitory on the weekend.

If she hadn't looked perfectly normal, Hach would have taken her to the school hospital for another checkup.

"Thank you." The food on the table was still warm. Vera put down her book, smiled, and looked up at Hermione.

Hermione looked at her leisurely demeanor and shook her head helplessly: "You certainly know how to enjoy yourself. Really not coming to the library with me? We recently got a new batch of books, and I think you'd be interested."

“Next time for sure,” Vera promised, taking a bite of a sandwich. “I just want to relax today.”

Seeing her relaxed expression, Hermione didn't press her further. She gave her a few more words of advice, such as "get some rest" and "don't read anymore," before leaving to head to the library.

The dormitory quieted down, leaving only Vera and Knox curled up on the windowsill sunbathing.

The sunlight streamed through the glass window, bathing me in its warmth, which did indeed make me feel a little sleepy.

She slowly finished the lunch Hermione had brought, put the utensils aside, and "watched" from afar the restless figure on the fourth floor through the castle's connection.

Quirrell barely slept a wink that night; the office was filled with an atmosphere of failure and fear.

Voldemort's rage was as tangible and chilling as ice, tormenting his nerves.

"...We must get that dragon!" a hoarse voice screamed in Quirrell's mind. "That Mudblood! That Black! They must know! Go ask! Go investigate!"

"But...but Master...they're very wary..."

"Useless!" Voldemort's voice was twisted with rage. "I don't care what methods you use! If you fail again—"

Before the threatening words were finished, Quirrell was already trembling with fear, his purple headscarf soaked with cold sweat, and he could only nod meekly.

Vera "watched" all of this, picked up her teacup, took a sip, and a cold sneer curled at the corner of her mouth.

Yesterday's no-show was quite effective, and coupled with her failure to show up today, she had successfully exhausted the other party's patience without doing anything.

But that phrase "mud-blooded"...

It really does sound jarring no matter how you look at it.

However, this also means that in Voldemort's eyes, Hermione, like him, is a potential breakthrough point that can be used to seize the dragon.

Since he can't succeed on his own side for the time being, Quirrell's attention will likely turn to Hermione.

Although Hermione is smart and alert enough, facing a Dark Lord who will stop at nothing... it's just too difficult for Hermione to imagine.

There's no other way; we can't wait any longer.

Vera took a deep breath, a resolute glint in her eyes.

In the afternoon, when Harley dragged her tired body back from the stadium, and Hermione returned from the library laden with books, they discovered that Vera had disappeared.

Harley and Hermione stared at each other in the empty dormitory.

"Where's Vera?" Harley put down her broom guard and looked around in confusion.

The fatigue from training hadn't completely subsided, but the absence of her friend made her feel vaguely uneasy.

Hermione frowned, walked to Vera's bedside, touched the neatly folded bedding, and checked the place where the wheelchair was usually parked.

"She's not here; she looks like she's been gone for a while."

Her gaze fell on Knox, who was curled up on the windowsill. "Knox, do you know where Vera went?"

The cat lazily lifted its eyelids, glanced at them with its amber eyes, and then nonchalantly licked its paws, acting as if it were none of its business.

Harley's heart inexplicably quickened, and an inexplicable sense of anxiety gripped her.

She walked quickly to the window and looked out at the sun gradually setting in the west.

Although Vera usually acts alone, this time, she inexplicably wanted to find Vera and stay by her side.

At that moment, Vera had just stepped out of the castle and was pushing her wheelchair along a deserted path toward Hagrid's cottage.

She had only gone halfway when she suddenly felt a strong warning coming from the crystal in front of her heart.

She immediately stopped her wheelchair, and as if sensing something, turned it around. She saw Quirrell standing in the shadows not far away, staring intently at her.

His expression was more distorted than usual, and his eyes, hidden beneath the purple headscarf, gleamed with an eerie light.

They did follow us after all.

Vera even slightly adjusted her posture, allowing her right hand to more naturally approach the inconspicuous hidden compartment on the armrest of her wheelchair.

“Professor Quirrell?” she asked, feigning surprise and a perfectly timed hint of confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Quirrell did not answer immediately. He slowly emerged from the shadows, his steps somewhat stiff, his eyes fixed straight ahead, as if controlled by something invisible.

The sunlight shone on his pale face, adding to his eerie appearance.

The smell of garlic on him seemed to be masked by another, colder, more decaying odor.

The breath of life is growing weaker and weaker; is Voldemort about to completely control him...?

Vera narrowed her eyes; her earlier guess about Voldemort's method of forcibly prolonging his lifespan was indeed correct.

Now, Voldemort can only drink Quirrell's blood.

But in that case, once Quirrell dies, Voldemort himself will revert to his ghostly state.