"Master, I—I today…"
Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, its door tightly shut, Quirinus Quirrell had already removed his turban. He was trembling with nerves, his face so pale it looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment.
"I've told you already—this isn't your fault."
From the back of his head, that deathly white face spoke in a soft, coaxing whisper. "Since you have become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you must leave nothing to chance and carry out your duties with absolute commitment. You cannot allow even the slightest flaw for Dumbledore to notice."
"Remember—everything we do serves a single ultimate purpose: obtaining the Philosopher's Stone. The process in between is completely irrelevant. Whether it's infiltrating Gringotts or cursing Dark wizards… once you present me with the Stone and I regain my body, you will receive glory and rewards beyond your imagination…"
Under this reassurance and encouragement, Quirrell finally seemed to relax. "I—I will live up to your expectations, Master!"
"That's my good servant."
Knock, knock, knock.
"Professor Quirrell? Are you there? I have a question I'd like to ask you…"
The knock on the office door came without warning, accompanied by a young, indistinct voice. Quirrell nearly jumped in fright. He hurriedly flicked his wand, pulling the turban back into place to conceal Voldemort's face.
"What should I do, Master?" he whispered urgently.
"Do what a professor should do—explain it to him and send him on his way," Voldemort replied impatiently. "Do I really need to teach you even that?"
"Y-yes… yes…"
Quirrell raised his wand, opened the office door, and after clearly seeing the student standing outside, forced a strained smile. "Ah, M-Mister Ken. What can I do for you?"
"Professor."
Avada closed the door behind him and placed a sheet of parchment on the desk. "It's like this. While previewing the second-year textbooks, I came across an interesting spell that seems to sit somewhere between a jinx and a standard charm—the Confundus Charm. It can disorient the target's senses and produce some rather unusual effects…"
"Y-yes, that's correct," Quirrell said, nodding awkwardly.
"After that, I studied the spell more carefully and realized it seemed to have room for improvement. So I went to the library to look up other spells similar to the Confundus Charm. Drawing on the principles of the Memory Charm and some simple illusion spells, I came up with this…"
He pushed the parchment toward Quirrell. "According to my deductions, if the Confundus Charm were refined along this path to its theoretical limit, it would produce something extremely terrifying—no, perhaps 'extremely peculiar' is more accurate. But didn't you say in class that certain jinxes, if developed too far, gradually turn into Dark Magic? So I wanted to ask you to confirm this for me."
"All right… let me take a look…"
Quirrell absentmindedly picked up the parchment and began reading. Meanwhile, Avada seized the opportunity to activate Occlumency while frantically analyzing the mutated structure of Voldemort's mental energy.
'To fully analyze this mass of mental energy, I need to break it down into four stages: starting from a normal human mental structure, then the damage caused by Dark Magic erosion, followed by mutations triggered by certain magical transformations, and finally the trauma caused by soul fragmentation… Only by peeling it apart layer by layer can I complete the full analysis.'
'The fundamental framework is still human mental energy—this hasn't changed. Memory, cognition, and emotion are all present, but the emotional component is severely damaged, especially positive emotions… There's also noticeable damage to the cognitive processes.'
'I don't have many samples of Dark Magic erosion. This part will require much more effort…'
'This structure is very similar to Professor Baker's—definitely a mutation caused by soul-splitting… but it's more complex and far more unstable. Of course it is—he split his soul into a full seven pieces…'
'My earlier assumption was wrong. His mental structure bears no resemblance to a ghost's at all. That means even fewer usable samples…'
'Damn it, the information density is insane. Even after drinking a Wit-Sharpening Potion from Diagon Alley in advance, my brain still can't keep up—my memory and calculations are both lagging. And now I probably won't have time to analyze the Diadem or work on talent optimization either…'
While Avada was desperately analyzing, Quirrell continued reading the parchment—and cold sweat began to bead on his forehead. The contents were simply too shocking.
"What is it, Quirrell?"
Voldemort's voice sounded directly inside his mind. "I sense your astonishment. What did that student show you?"
"M-Master, you—you should look…"
Quirrell shakily shared his field of vision with Voldemort. "This second-year student… he's independently derived the embryonic form of the Imperius Curse!"
That was exactly what Avada had used to capture Quirrell's attention—the result he had obtained from the Diadem the previous school year: the prototype of the Imperius Curse. He had then cleverly reassembled it using the principles of the Confundus Charm, the Memory Charm, and other illusion spells, disguising it as research derived from second-year material—shooting the arrow first, then painting the target afterward.
"Oh?"
Voldemort's interest was immediately piqued. Through Quirrell's eyes, he carefully read the paper. As Avada noticed the drastic fluctuations in Voldemort's mental energy, he maintained Occlumency with all his might, carefully controlling his expression while memorizing even more dynamic samples…
"Interesting. Very interesting…"
"Quirrell—let me take control of your body for a moment."
"Y-yes, Master."
Quirrell suddenly lifted his head and looked at Avada. The nervousness was gone from his face, replaced by calm confidence and composure. "Can you tell me how you arrived at this line of thinking?"
Oh, damn it!
The instant Quirrell raised his head, Avada stopped analyzing altogether and poured everything into Occlumency.
Voldemort personally logged in?! Was my paper really that attractive?!
At first, he had only intended to spark a little interest—just enough to keep Quirrell from rejecting him, buying time to observe Voldemort's mental energy. Now it seemed he had seriously misjudged the appropriate "level" of interest.
"Ahem."
Avada straightened his expression, adopting the mindset of a thesis defense, and addressed the man before him. "It's like this. During my research on the Confundus Charm, I discovered that…"
As Avada explained, Quirrell—no, Voldemort—listened intently, occasionally interjecting with pointed questions that Avada answered in turn. For a time, the Defense Against the Dark Arts office genuinely became a thesis defense venue. Aside from the fact that both mentor and student harbored ulterior motives, it was nearly flawless.
"A brilliant idea. An exquisite line of reasoning. Without question, you are a genius, Mister Ken."
"You possess an extraordinarily rare talent in the study of mental energy. I can tell you in advance—the endpoint of this path you've uncovered is an exceptionally powerful form of magic. Had you been born before this magic was officially created, you might even have been recorded in history on the strength of this paper alone… You should absolutely continue this line of research. It will benefit you greatly… In fact—"
He opened a drawer, took out a sheet of parchment, wrote something on it, and handed it to Avada. "I recommend that you visit the Restricted Section and find a particular book. Its contents are closely related to your current field of study and may provide you with inspiration. This is a permission slip."
"Off you go. If you have any questions, you're welcome to come to me anytime. I like talented students."
Controlling Quirrell's body, Voldemort smiled warmly as he escorted Avada out. The moment the door was locked again, his expression instantly reverted from composed to anxious—Quirrell's consciousness had returned.
(End of Chapter)