Nothing built friendship faster than surviving a troll together.
After Halloween night, Harry, Ron, and Hermione truly became inseparable.
Even Hermione stopped obsessing over school rules quite so much.
Though admittedly, she still lectured people constantly.
Some habits simply couldn't be cured.
Meanwhile, Harry's Quidditch training intensified rapidly as Gryffindor's first match approached.
The entire House had become increasingly excited.
Even Ron joined the preparations enthusiastically.
Lucas and Kassandra eventually helped enchant Ron's bed sheets into a massive moving lion banner that roared whenever Gryffindor scored imaginary points.
Ron nearly cried from happiness.
Recently, Harry had also discovered that Snape appeared to have been bitten on the leg by Fluffy.
As a result, Harry instantly concluded Snape was obviously trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone.
Honestly, Snape truly deserved the title of Hogwarts's First Pot King.
Whenever something suspicious happened, Harry instinctively suspected him first.
On this particular afternoon, after Defence Against the Dark Arts class ended, Quirrell once again stopped Lucas from leaving.
Since Halloween night, this had become increasingly common.
Every few days, Quirrell summoned Lucas privately and handed him another Dark Magic notebook.
Following Voldemort's instructions carefully, Quirrell had been attempting to lure Lucas deeper and deeper into Dark Arts knowledge step by step.
At first, Lucas found the notebooks laughably simplistic.
But recently…
The contents had gradually become more advanced.
At minimum, they'd finally reached the point where Lucas occasionally found something mildly interesting.
Naturally, he continued pretending to be obsessed.
Every single time Quirrell handed him a notebook, Lucas deliberately showed visible excitement.
As a result, Quirrell now firmly believed Lucas had already become addicted to the pursuit of Dark Magic and power.
The moment Lucas entered Quirrell's office today, he immediately spoke impatiently.
"Professor, do you have another notebook for me?"
Seeing the greedy anticipation on Lucas's face, Quirrell secretly rejoiced.
At this rate, he would complete his master's task very soon.
"The notebooks…" Quirrell began slowly. "After reading them… how do you feel about the magic inside?"
Lucas lowered his voice immediately.
"They're incredible."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Powerful. Truly powerful."
Then his expression twisted bitterly.
"But Professor Dumbledore would never allow me to use magic like that."
Quirrell watched him closely.
Lucas slowly raised one trembling hand as though remembering something intoxicating.
"In Albania…" he murmured softly, "I used magic like that to slaughter the werewolves who tortured me."
A strange expression crossed his face.
"That feeling…"
His breathing became slightly uneven.
Quirrell's eyes brightened immediately.
"But after returning to Britain," Lucas continued bitterly, "Professor Dumbledore forbade me from using those spells."
"So I endured it."
"I didn't want to become a monster and get thrown back into the orphanage again."
Quirrell smiled slowly.
"I understand," he whispered. "There is nothing shameful about desiring great power."
Then he asked carefully:
"You said you learned Dark Magic in Albania?"
Lucas's body suddenly trembled as though recalling trauma.
"Yes."
He lowered his head quietly.
"The werewolves experimented on me with Dark Magic."
"They used curses repeatedly during torture."
"After escaping…" Lucas slowly clenched his fists, "…I discovered I somehow understood every spell they used on me."
Quirrell's breathing quickened.
A genius.
A true natural-born Dark wizard.
"The final spell they taught me," Lucas whispered softly, "was the Killing Curse."
"They intended to execute me with it."
Quirrell felt genuine shock.
The terrifying Fiendfyre Lucas used in the Forbidden Forest flashed through his mind instantly.
This talent was monstrous.
Lucas looked up again now.
"I've always been interested in Dark Magic."
His voice became quieter.
"But after returning to Britain, I never had the chance to study it properly."
"Until you gave me those notebooks, Professor."
He spoke with visible gratitude.
Quirrell completely relaxed internally.
Everything felt perfect.
Lucas had revealed all this emotional information voluntarily.
And from Quirrell's perspective, it made perfect sense.
No matter how gifted Lucas was, he remained just a child.
Children lacked caution.
Or so Quirrell believed.
Meanwhile, Lucas calmly analysed everything internally.
Voldemort clearly intended to recruit him fully now.
And sooner or later, Voldemort would absolutely reveal himself personally.
Lucas had deliberately crafted an image extremely similar to Tom Riddle himself.
A gifted orphan.
A lonely child fascinated by power.
A genius forced to hide his true nature beneath Dumbledore's watchful eyes.
The similarities were almost painfully obvious.
Which meant Voldemort's ego would inevitably drag him closer.
Lucas also confirmed one important thing recently.
Voldemort still remained attached to Quirrell.
Apparently, the Marauder's Map simply couldn't detect fragmented souls properly.
Then Lucas suddenly asked curiously:
"But Professor… why are you teaching me all this?"
"Even Professor Dumbledore hides knowledge like this carefully."
Quirrell stumbled slightly.
"I… only wish to help you."
"You are gifted. Learning such knowledge may prove useful one day."
"Even if you never use it… understanding it still has value."
Lucas narrowed his eyes slightly.
Clearly unconvinced.
Quirrell realised immediately that he'd become too eager recently.
Someone as intelligent as Lucas would naturally notice inconsistencies.
Just as Quirrell desperately tried changing the topic—
A hoarse voice suddenly echoed through the room.
"Enough, Quirrell."
"There is no need to test him further."
For the first time in a long while, Lucas experienced genuine surprise.
He'd expected Voldemort to reveal himself eventually.
But not this early.
Originally, Lucas assumed it would happen sometime after Christmas.
Apparently, Voldemort's emotional projection toward him had accelerated things dramatically.
The Dark Lord truly believed Lucas was another version of himself.
And he couldn't wait any longer.
Lucas slowly stepped backward in apparent horror.
"…Who said that?"
Quirrell looked alarmed.
"M-My Lord—"
"I will speak to him personally."
With trembling hands, Quirrell slowly unwound the purple turban around his head.
Then—
A pale, twisted face appeared on the back of Quirrell's skull.
Red eyes.
Flat nostrils.
A horrifying snake-like expression.
Honestly, Lucas privately thought Voldemort looked better before smiling.
"Lucas Summers," Voldemort hissed softly. "Technically speaking… this is not our first meeting."
Lucas immediately drew his wand and pointed it forward.
"Who are you?"
Quirrell straightened slowly now.
For once, his voice no longer stuttered.
"This," he said reverently, "is my master."
"The greatest Dark Lord in the world."
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