Bring a fairy tale to Hogwarts!

Chapter 83 Voldemort's Changes

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office gets a different decor every year. This year, it belongs to Quirrell.

The office was filled with advanced magic books and all sorts of magical artifacts. Although the room was relatively tidy, the closed doors and windows made it dimly lit, casting long, long shadows on everything.

Quirrell knelt in the shadows, not daring to look up.

Surprisingly, the object he knelt on was only a small, short shadow.

Sometimes, power does not come from physical size.

"I'm sorry, Master—"--The last plan failed. That guy didn't fall for it. He only brought me two venom sacs of the eight-eyed giant spider—" Quirrell said, bowing his head.

"I'm not surprised at all."

A few seconds later, a familiar, high-pitched voice came from the tabletop—only this time it wasn't so weak. The voice sounded like it came from a living person, slow and deliberate.

But the last note still had that eerie "magnetic" sound that sent chills down Quirrell's spine.

"—Your plans have almost never succeeded, Quirinas. You always make promises, and every time you fail—luckily, I wasn't foolish enough to place my hopes on your lousy plan."

"I'm sorry, Master! But you—you mean you have other preparations? I will definitely finish... 'Shut up. Did I give you permission to speak?'"

Voldemort's unhurried voice, like the Cruciatus Curse, instantly tightened around Quirrell's throat. After interrupting Quirrell, Quirrell's face turned deathly pale, and he dared not utter a single word.

Then, the room fell into a moment of deathly silence.

The small shadow belonging to Voldemort did not speak immediately. Instead, it moved a few times and slowly rose from the shadows. Strangely, the shadow did not resemble a human; instead, it had four elongated limbs.

He slowly, in a strange, almost wriggling motion, entered the candlelight.

When Quirrell accidentally saw his buttocks, he couldn't help but tremble again and lowered his head even further.

It was a dog with a human face.

Below the head, this creature possessed a canine-like structure, with limbs and a tail covered in black fur. But above the head, it had a bizarre, infantile face with sharp, pointed features!

If any ordinary person saw this, they would probably scream immediately, because this creature simply shouldn't exist in this world. The structure of the human face and the dog's body were completely different, but covered by a few green scales, they were forcibly put together.

Even Quirrell didn't dare to look too long.

But this only made the shrill voice ring out again.

"Why won't you look at me, Quirinas? This is the result of your 'efforts.'" The hound's crimson eyes glared venomously at the figure on the ground. "Oh, your master, now relegated to the lowly body of an alchemical beast. Exchanging form for some pathetic power—are you satisfied with that?"

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, please forgive me, Master..."

Quirrell kept his head bowed, not daring to look up. Yes, Victor's magic formula was the source of Voldemort's current appearance. Because Victor had taken away the fantastical magic used at night, Voldemort believed the formula was real and devoted himself to studying it throughout the Christmas season.

Thanks to his extraordinary magical talent, the formula was indeed successful.

The problem is that Voldemort doesn't trust the formula's effectiveness.

Fearing that Victor might poison him, after successfully concocting the first batch of alchemical potion, he did not choose to create a body for himself immediately. Instead, he fed the potion to a dog to test its effects. However, he did not expect that this alchemical potion was actually made by the matching maker.

The instant it took effect, it automatically sucked Voldemort out of Quirrell and placed him into the dog's body, turning him into this terrifying human-faced dog.

This made Voldemort furious.

Recalling that time, Quirrell's body trembled again, his face filled with fear.

Surprisingly, after burning with anger for a while, the venom in her shrill voice subsided.

"Forgive me? I can indeed forgive you, Quirinas. Although you have never satisfied me, everything I promised still stands—as long as you bring me that stone."

"Whether it's unicorn blood or the venom sac of the eight-eyed giant spider, it's all just a stopgap measure—"

Voldemort said in that terrifying voice, "The only thing I need is the Philosopher's Stone. You must put the plan to steal it into action."

"But—however," Quirrell's face seemed to paler even more, "we can't be active at night now, not even you."

"Yes, but so what?" The shrill voice carried a hint of impatience. "While this body relies on your power to exist, preventing me from moving at night, I still possess some of my own strength, which is enough for us to get through those ridiculous challenges."

"All you need to do is find an excuse to get Dumbledore out of the way, and our plan will succeed."

"As for that foreign wizard, he can be used, but he can never be trusted again—I have a feeling he will not be my loyal friend."

Quirrell knelt on the ground, his mouth seemingly dry, unsure of what to say—steal the Philosopher's Stone? Get Dumbledore out of the way? Could he really do it? But if he succeeded, he could fly away, never have to worry about the school again, and become the Dark Lord's right-hand man.

His expression changed several times, but he eventually calmed down again.

But before he could say anything, the door to his office suddenly rang.

"Right now."

"Immediately."

Just a wall away, stood two familiar red-haired figures—Fred and George. They stood expectantly in the corridor, completely unaware that a terrible conspiracy was brewing behind the door, inches away.

On the contrary, their emotions seemed calm with a hint of excitement.

They were even carrying a thick stack of exam papers in their hands.

That's right, the exam paper.

This thing, which seemed completely out of place with the Weasley twins, was now actually in their hands. Even more unbelievable was that every single one of these papers was densely covered with answers.

This certainly couldn't have been done by just the two of them.

Outside Quirrell's office, Fred and George stood shoulder to shoulder, their eyes gleaming with excitement as they looked at the stack of papers in their hands. Fred spoke first in a low voice:

"It's today."

1

"Today will be the day we get our answers."

George's lowered voice couldn't hide his excitement.