Hogwarts: Harry Returns from Azeroth

Chapter 36 36. [Seeking follow-up reading] Voldemort's plot

What Ron described is indeed a strange sight in Hogwarts at present - Snape was adding points to Gryffindor from various angles and in various ways, but before the Gryffindor students could be happy, they found that Professor McGonagall was trying her best to deduct points from Gryffindor from various places.

Many senior students said that there must be something wrong with the world. Some brave ones even ran to the headmaster's office to ask Dumbledore for help, hoping that he could check Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall to see if they were crazy.

At a time when many people's impressions of Snape had become subtle, only Ron had always maintained his... uh, hatred towards Snape.

After all, he was the one with the most points deducted from Snape's class, and he also had to endure Snape's various sarcasms and ridicules - this in turn made Ron famous in Gryffindor, and many Gryffindor seniors encouraged him and gave him some snacks and small gifts.

This situation made Ron feel both painful and happy.

Not as a friend of Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, but as a frontline warrior against Snape - and Ron quite liked that title.

In this kind of life where he had to endure Snape's sharp attacks and mental pressure every day, Ron felt that he had become stronger.

"Well, I think what Neville said makes sense - Professor McGonagall is different from Professor Snape after all. She attaches great importance to fairness." After listening to Ron's complaints, Hagrid mumbled for a while and uttered these words.

"It's really fair," Ron complained, "If it weren't for Snape, I don't even dare to think how many points Gryffindor would have left - Professor McGonagall seems to be proving herself. Does she have to deduct more points to prove that she is fair?"

"Ahem! Stop talking about this! Ron!" Hagrid coughed loudly and forced himself to change the subject, "So Harry, if you really want to be my neighbor, you can consider staying on as a professor after graduation."

"Well, I think you can be the professor of Divination. After all, you can really tell fortunes, which is much better than that liar - I mean! Professor Trelawney!" Almost speaking the truth, Hagrid suggested enthusiastically: "I can help you build a wooden house. What style do you like?"

"Liar?" Hermione seemed to have finally recovered her breath. Although her face was still red, she was at least willing to talk. She keenly caught the words that Hagrid had not finished saying and asked curiously, "Why do you say that? What did she lie about?"

"Oh! I didn't say that," Hagrid waved his hands and said quickly, "Don't say anything, especially in the castle. After all, she is your professor."

"Okay, we won't talk nonsense." Hermione nodded, but still asked: "So Professor Trelawney can't actually do divination? Why is that? I mean - if she can't do divination, then Headmaster Dumbledore won't let her become a professor, right? That would be irresponsible to the students, and she can't be called a professor."

Hermione still couldn't believe that there would be a liar among the professors at Hogwarts.

"Aha!" Hagrid laughed loudly, and said disdainfully, "Don't ask, Hermione, I really don't want to say bad things about my colleagues - if you choose Divination in your third year, then you will know why I said that."

Hermione, with her curiosity bursting, seemed to want to ask more questions, but Hagrid was tight-lipped at this moment and refused to say anything, leaving the little girl sitting there sulking.

And Harry... he was just shooting mosquitoes with lightning arrows out of boredom.

With a crackling sound, one lightning after another flashed through the hut, hitting those little creatures with tenacious vitality.

"Hey, brother, I want to play this too." After helping to count seven or eight, Ron couldn't help but said, "Can you teach me a trick?"

"Of course," Harry said cheerfully. He looked at Hagrid. "In fact, if things go well, maybe it won't be too long before we can become neighbors. Hagrid - I'm going to apply to Headmaster Dumbledore this week. I'll start the first class of the Shaman Club next week. Can I borrow your venue?"

"Shaman Club? Next week?" Hagrid was stunned for a moment, then agreed readily: "Of course! Harry! If you don't mind, can I try it too?"

"completely fine."

Harry has already tried his best to reproduce the original version of the spiritual bond potion needed to open the shamanic path in this world. Although the taste and effect are slightly different from what he drank in the world of Azeroth, after trying it himself, Harry is convinced that this potion can also achieve the results he wants.

This is how alchemical medicine making works. Because raw materials are constantly appearing or disappearing, it is impossible to abandon a certain potion just because some materials have disappeared. You can only keep trying new formulas based on the medicinal properties, so the medicinal properties are the key.

Several people spent a pleasant afternoon in Hagrid's hut. Well, one little girl might disagree with this, but that's not a big problem.

After declining Hagrid's invitation to dinner, it was already getting dark when Harry and the others returned to the castle.

By coincidence, the four of them ran into Professor Quirrell in the corridor on the first floor.

"Come on! Professor Quirrell! You can definitely defeat the vampire!!" Ron suddenly raised his hand and shouted, sincerely encouraging the young professor who seemed to be in worse condition.

The evidence is that he seems to smell more garlicky and his movements seem more neurotic.

Not only Ron, Hermione and Neville also gave Professor Quirrell encouraging smiles.

When Harry's divinations for others were proven successful one after another, the story he had predicted about Professor Quirrell lying on the ground with blood on his face was spread more and more outrageously by the students.

What vampires attacked Hogwarts just to find the man they loved, Professor Quirrell, or the reason why Professor Quirrell was so miserable in the prophecy was because he smeared garlic essence on himself all day long, which angered the Garlic King and caused him to be severely injured by the Garlic King...

Well, the students at Hogwarts have quite a vivid imagination.

And I don't know since when, the opinion of Qi Luo among students has become strange. There are fewer complaints about him only reading from the textbook in class, and more encouragement to him. He is very sunny and full of positive energy.

Even Harry - Harry smiled at Quirrell and made a cheering gesture.

Harry did encourage Quirrell with a sincere heart, but the things he encouraged Quirrell to do in his heart might be different from the things other students encouraged Quirrell to do.

He was looking forward to Quirrell rushing to the fourth floor to step on the trap. As long as Quirrell stepped on the trap set by Headmaster Dumbledore, then Headmaster Dumbledore would no longer need to keep this unstable element, and could then settle the mission reward for himself.

Perfect logic. Harry really wanted to know how Dumbledore had given him the scene in the divination picture, and what the suitcase was... He was so curious that he felt like a cat was scratching his heart.

Harry and his group of four just left, and Quirrell - Quirrell stared at them from behind, and after watching their backs disappear, he quickly ran to his office.

"...What should I do, what should I do, what should I do! Master! He must know!" As soon as he entered the room, he went straight to the mirror. Quirrell put his hands on the cabinet, stared at the mirror in front of him and muttered to himself. His voice was full of panic, and there was none of the calmness and composure that Harry saw that day.

"Shut up!" Another voice suddenly rang out in this office where only Quirrell was supposed to be. It was very stern and hoarse, with an undisguised weakness. "Look at how ridiculous you look now."

There was no doubt that this voice could only belong to Voldemort.

"Master!" Quirrell almost knelt down, tears already appeared in the corners of his eyes, and his voice trembled, "But Dumbledore - that boy must have told Dumbledore!"

“Quiet!!” The voice became more severe, but suddenly became gentle the next second, “Ah, yes, Dumbledore… My poor servant, he has been frightened by Dumbledore…”

"No, no, no, I didn't, master, I didn't!" Quirrell's body trembled with fear.

“So what if it’s Dumbledore?” Voldemort said impatiently, his voice becoming wild. “Even Dumbledore can’t kill me! No one can kill Voldemort!!”

"Yes, Master, no one can kill you." Quirrell knelt humbly on the ground and murmured, "But your plan...your plan is not yet complete. You need to be revived, you need...the Philosopher's Stone!"

"Ah, yes, my plan," Voldemort said with satisfaction, "I am glad that you still remember my plan, my servant... there is no need to be afraid."

"Dumbledore is just hiding in Hogwarts and struggling to survive. He can't do anything - even if he knows, what does it matter?"

"He knows he can't kill me," Voldemort said happily, "so he can only watch me regain my power and get everything I want. This is his incompetence."

"Your power makes me tremble, master," Quirrell responded with words of praise.

"The room on the fourth floor is a trap," Voldemort said suddenly, "Dumbledore also knows that I can see it, so he puts what I want there, like a bird waiting for its prey to come to the door - but I am the snake that is watching in the dark and will get everything in the end!!"

Every mature Slytherin likes to call himself a snake. The ignorant magical journey of wizards begins when they label themselves at the age of eleven.

"Then Master, should we——"

"No hurry." Voldemort interrupted Quirrell and said leisurely: "I seem to have found a good child - a good child, just like you once were."

“Remember when you appeared before me?” Voldemort’s voice became gentler. “You prostrated yourself before me and told me what you wanted in your heart… You wanted to become powerful and respected, and no longer be a weak and neglected… Muggle Studies professor? Ha!”

Voldemort sneered disdainfully.

"It is you who inspired me, my master," Quirrell said without even daring to raise his head.

"Of course, of course I do," Voldemort's voice hissed like a snake, "but now, I seem to see another lonely, restless, uneasy soul."

"Master, you mean... Harry Potter?" Quirrell asked cautiously, "The Boy Who Lived?"

“Ah, yes, the Boy-Who-Lived…” Voldemort’s voice became complicated, “So unique, so special, so…similar.”

The last word was so soft, so soft that Quirrell couldn't hear it at all.

"Dumbledore would never understand," Voldemort laughed in a low voice. "He suffered a lot since childhood, grew up like a house elf in the home of his Muggle relatives, was small and fragile - but was full of desire for magic and showed amazing talent."

"Master, do you—do you want?" Quirrell held his breath, "to make that immortal boy serve you?"

"Why not?" Voldemort said happily, "The Potter family has never had any legends about soul magic, but that child said he has studied this kind of magic - Quirrell, my servant, you will not understand."

"Once you start studying magic related to the soul, you can't stop. The advancement of this kind of magic will inevitably mean the emergence of sacrifices... Dumbledore will never understand that child. Only I can understand him."

No one could understand better than Voldemort what kind of state of mind Harry Potter would be in if he grew up in the environment described in the newspaper, especially when he had extraordinary talents.

"Then master, what should I do?" Although his heart was full of jealousy towards Harry Potter, Quirrell still asked obediently.

"Do what you should do, Quirrell." Voldemort's voice became impatient, "But from today on, I will teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts class myself... I will make that child understand the secrets of magic and the true meaning of magic... Then he will..."

Voldemort's voice became weaker and weaker, but this did not reduce his excitement at the moment, because Voldemort felt that he had a great idea.

Didn't Dumbledore think highly of Harry Potter? Didn't the entire wizarding world think that Harry Potter was the one who defeated them and saved them?
In that case, I might as well turn Harry Potter into a Death Eater - even teach that lucky boy right under Dumbledore's nose, show him the charm of dark magic, and then let his soul be devoured by dark magic!

Voldemort couldn't wait to see the expression on Dumbledore's face when he discovered that the boy he cared about had unknowingly transformed into another person.

That must have felt very... pleasurable.

(End of this chapter)