Magical Studies at Hogwarts...

Chapter 24 Chocolate Milk

It took Ike a while to calm down after sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.

"Professor, I'll be leaving now." Ike nodded slightly to Quirrell, his eyes still bloodshot.

"Go back and eat some dessert; it will make you feel much better," Quirrell said slowly, with a hint of anticipation.

"Professor..." Ike turned and took two steps, then stopped, turned back and asked, "See you next Saturday?"

"Of course, Mr. Strad," Quirrell replied with a smile.

As Quirrell watched Ike leave, his face immediately filled with respect.

"Master, he has left."

"Quirinus, my servant," Voldemort's voice rang out, drawn out and very weak.

"Owner."

"You're questioning my decision, Quirinas."

"No! Master!" Quirrell bent down even lower.

"No? Good..."

"This young wizard possesses unparalleled talent and is filled with a thirst for power..."

"But, Master..." Quirrell hesitated, "He almost broke down just now, I... I'm afraid he won't be able to meet your expectations..."

"That doesn't matter," Voldemort's voice deepened. "That's not the most important thing..."

"The Philosopher's Stone, Quirrell, the Philosopher's Stone..."

"Yes, Master." Quirrell waited quietly for a long time, but Voldemort's voice did not sound again. He relaxed a little, got up, pushed open the office door, and disappeared.

Ike knew that Voldemort had taken a liking to him, otherwise he wouldn't have instructed Quirrell to teach him, but he had no time to think about what Voldemort was planning.

I went straight back to my dorm, took out a paper bag containing a pile of cockroaches from my drawer, quickly stuffed two into my mouth, and closed my eyes to savor the wonderful explosion of flavor on my taste buds.

After a while, Ike let out a long sigh of relief, sank into the soft bed, and tapped his head with his wand in his right hand.

True to its reputation as the most evil and cruel form of black magic, the use of the Death Curse requires maintaining a strong killing intent at all times. Even when facing spiders and rabbits, the feeling of personally ending lives in a short period of time still gives Ike a sense of mental schizophrenia.

It felt as if a pure, evil, tyrannical personality had appeared inside me, wanting to kill everyone, and constantly assaulting my mental defenses.

So close, so very close...

Last time, when Ike was about to lose control, it was the wand's resistance and reminder that brought him back to his senses. This time, it is the wand that helps him fight against the invasion of evil.

Each time the spell was cast, the wand would give Ike a sense of warmth. Just when he was about to succumb, that gentle, warm feeling, as if he were surrounded by the softest thing in the world, was like a slowly flowing stream, constantly soothing Ike's mind.

Although it was like a blade of grass compared to a towering tree compared to the effects of the Death Curse, it still helped Ike persevere.

But what helped him the most wasn't any magic wand, nor the useless notebook system...

"We are the successors of communism..."

"A great river flows wide and strong, the wind blows and the rice blossoms scent both banks."

Ever since leaving Quirrell's office, these melodies had been playing in Ike's mind. For some reason, recalling these melodies brought him a strange sense of peace. Although they couldn't eliminate the negative effects of the Death Curse, the wand's help was enough to make his inner defenses appear fragile, yet were actually impregnable.

After a while, Ike finally grabbed the paper bag and went to the common room.

Perhaps it was the end of the semester, but the young eagles' deep-seated obsession with grades had awakened. There were hardly any older students left, only groups of first and second-grade wizards chatting in the lounge.

Stewart, Terry, Michael, and Anthony sat in pairs on the sofa, chatting and laughing happily. Ike also smiled and sat on the armrest of the sofa next to Michael, waving the paper bag in his hand.

"What are you talking about? You seem to be having so much fun!"

"Would you like some cockroach swarms?"

"Ike Strayder!" Michael jumped up from the sofa, and Anthony ducked next to Stewart. "You promised us you wouldn't take this... Wait! What were you doing in Professor Quirrell's office? You look so haggard!"

"I just asked Professor Quirrell a few questions." Ike slid onto the sofa, reached in and pulled out a cockroach, stuffing it into his mouth.

"Oh, and I also practiced some spells while I was at it."

Stuart nodded upon hearing this and replied, "Practicing spells? That must be because you've been using too much magic."

"Then a good night's sleep will do the trick. I had the same problem when I performed a spell for my family at Christmas. I was too excited and didn't pay attention to the magic. My mother was the one who noticed something was wrong," Terry agreed, relieved of his worries. "It's a very common problem. Of course, if you go to Madam Pomfrey now and ask for some Water of Life and Death, it will be even more effective."

"Let's forget about the Potion of Life and Death." Ike shook his head. "It's said that many of Madam Pomfrey's potions are made in Potions class. Ever since I saw how you guys performed in Potions class, I never want to drink Madam Pomfrey's potions again."

"That's infuriating! Hit him!" Ike's face, full of disgust, made Stuart and the others furious. With a shout, they pounced on him and launched a series of attacks on Ike's ticklish spots.

Ike lay on the sofa, dodging and weaving, but he was no match for the many hands he had, and had to beg for mercy repeatedly.

After playing around for a while, all five of them were panting and slumped on the sofa, laughing foolishly.

Ike calmed his breathing slightly, then picked up another pile of cockroaches and tossed it into his mouth. After chewing a few times, he stopped and said to Anthony, "By the way, Anthony, I remember you have a carton of milk, right? You brought it back after the holidays. Could you pour me a glass?"

"Milk is flying in!"

"The cup is flying over!"

Anthony summoned the milk, and Ike also summoned his own cup from his dorm room, watching expectantly as Anthony filled the cup, nodding in satisfaction.

"I remember you don't like drinking milk, Ike," Stewart asked curiously.

"I don't like drinking, but I just thought of something fun and I want to try it out." Ike picked up the cup, took a sip, and then put it back on the table.

"Stuart, you should know about Oreos, right?"

"What's an Oreo?" Terry came from a wizarding family, and he really didn't know what this popular Muggle cookie was.

"A kind of Muggle cookie, it's delicious..." Stewart explained for a moment, then suddenly stopped, looking at Ike with a horrified expression, "Wait! Ike, you didn't mean to..."

"Milk is a magical drink. Although I don't like drinking it, I can't deny that it's beneficial to people..."

"Furthermore, many things taste better when paired with milk..."

"Like Oreo cookies, they're great on their own, but they're even better soaked in milk..."

"So..." Ike threw two swarms of cockroaches into the cup, watching them swim in the white milk, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up.

"I'm curious to see what kind of amazing reactions they'll produce. Would you like to try some? I think it would be quite delicious."

Ike turned around, his smile instantly freezing. The huge common room was now empty except for him; even the second-year wizards had all left.

Shrugging, Ike picked up his glass, took a sip from the pile of cockroaches, and squinted his eyes in enjoyment.

"Hmm...it's chocolate milk..."

(End of this chapter)