A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 104 Explanation

After the heavy snow came a continuous stream of overcast and rainy days. The sky was always gray and hazy, the air was damp and cold, and the occasional raindrops were icy cold. Few people wanted to go outside; only the Quidditch players would diligently train on the field.

Irving shifted his gaze from the players flying around in the rain outside the window, his eyes deep and calm as he looked at Quirrell, who sat opposite him dressed impeccably. He winked playfully at Quirrell and teased, "Professor Quirrell, it's truly delightful to see how good your taste has become lately."

As he spoke, Owen gently waved his wand, tidying up the messy office, and said in a considerate and caring tone, "Of course, I think focusing solely on appearance isn't enough. Cultivating elegance starts with the details of daily life, like making the office a little tidier first?"

"You seem to care a lot about this?" Quirrell looked at him with a flickering gaze, his face so pale he looked like he might collapse at any moment.

"Of course, who wouldn't want their companion to be a charismatic and charming character? Confidence, elegance, intelligence, and strength are what make someone truly captivating." Owen smiled sincerely, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. "Besides, the esteemed Dark Lord is on you, so you have to live up to his status and style, right? That's a matter of necessary respect."

That's right, Voldemort, this is for you. You need to have class and style, and you'd better not lose your brain, or go for the "dumb beauty" route and focus on being a mascot, so a nose and hair are a must! Owen considers himself a looks-obsessed person, maybe he'll actually follow you if he thinks you're good-looking!

"Hmm? Is something wrong with my thinking?" Owen stared blankly at the gray sky outside the window, feeling that he was becoming more and more prone to courting death.

Upon hearing Owen mention the Dark Lord, a flicker of fear crossed Quirrell's eyes, a mixture of his growing weakness and the Dark Lord's apparent disappointment and indifference. He felt he was about to die if he didn't obtain the Philosopher's Stone soon.

Thinking of this, his expression turned somewhat ferocious and crazed as he looked at Owen: "Why did you save Harry Potter?"

Owen thought to himself, "Just as I thought," but outwardly he was stunned for a moment, then said innocently, "Save him? You mean the time he was bitten by the poisonous spider? So that was your doing."

"Yes, all we had to do was put a poisonous spider bound by a binding charm on him, and when the spell wore off, the spider would angrily bite him, and Harry Potter would die in an accident. But you ruined my plan!" Quirrell's expression was somewhat broken. Even if he couldn't get the Philosopher's Stone for the time being, killing Potter would still be a great achievement. His master would reward him, and would never watch him weaken like this.

"That's a real shame." Owen grinned awkwardly, then said seriously, "You should at least have talked to me about it beforehand. In fact, Harry drank the beverage I gave him that night and then suddenly collapsed, making it look like I had poisoned him."

Owen sighed and rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "I was already feeling a bit guilty because I accepted the task of monitoring Harry from the Dark Lord. Plus, I ran into Professor Snape on my way back from here last time. He noticed the scent of potions on me very keenly and knew that I had been in contact with you, so he's been keeping an eye on me these days."

"Professor Quirrell, what am I supposed to do in this situation? Harry Potter collapsed after drinking my water, and I just watched him die from poisoning. What if someone finds out I also have dung stones on me, but I didn't use them on him..." Owen shrugged. "Even if I don't get arrested, I'll probably be expelled, right?"

"Although it was later discovered that the problem wasn't with my drink, I had no choice but to take that action to protect myself at the time. Besides, even if I hadn't saved him, he probably wouldn't have died. When I checked with a spell, I discovered a strange magical fluctuation on Harry's body, which was probably secretly arranged by Dumbledore. I thought that if Harry was really in danger, Dumbledore would definitely arrive in time."

Owen said earnestly, "Professor Quirrell, I don't really care that Harry died, but next time you take any action, please don't hide it from me. At least let me stay far away first, so as not to unintentionally ruin your plans."

"My close relationship with Harry is an advantage, but isn't it also a constraint?" he said softly, his voice like a distant murmur. "If I show even the slightest abnormality when I'm with him, I'll be the focus of attention and investigation."

"You're not loyal enough! For the Dark Lord, anything is worth it!" Quirrell said, his lips trembling, not forgetting to take the opportunity to express his loyalty.

"Enough, Quirrell. Abandon your plans against Harry Potter. Dumbledore is on his guard. You can't kill him at Hogwarts. You've been focusing on the Philosopher's Stone for too long. Neither you nor I can wait much longer... Now, I'm leaving." Voldemort's cold voice echoed in Quirrell's mind, sending a shiver down his spine.

Irving saw Quirrell's expression change as he sat across the table. His expression was no longer one of fear and madness, but rather one of condescending scrutiny and a mocking, half-smiling look.

"Professor, good afternoon." Owen's expression immediately became more solemn. "I am very sorry and regretful that I unintentionally ruined Professor Quirrell's plans."

"Everyone has selfish desires, and I can forgive your unintentional mistake." Voldemort looked at him thoughtfully. He narrowed his eyes, feeling Quirrell's body on the verge of collapse, and a greedy and lustful glint appeared in the depths of his gaze as he looked at Owen. A young body, full of vigor and vitality, a body tailor-made for him... He couldn't wait any longer.

It's almost there; just a little longer and it will be fully "mature".

Owen suddenly felt a chill. He watched as Voldemort waved his hand and summoned a pure gold cauldron, adding medicinal herbs into it. He rolled his eyes inwardly.

Using the crucible I gave you to torture me, how could you do this to me! Owen glanced at the shameless and ruthless Dark Lord and silently changed to a more upright sitting posture.

"Do you know what kind of potion this is?" Voldemort's voice drifted over, carrying a hint of mockery.

"I ran into Professor Snape when I left here last time. He said it was a potion that's good for your health," Owen replied with a smile. "Professor Quirrell seems to be getting weaker and weaker. I think he really needs to take some more tonics."

Voldemort smiled meaningfully, looking at Owen's pale face and sensing a sense of kinship from the young wizard before him.

"Summon your Dark Lord Guardian." He narrowed his eyes.

Owen didn't ask why, he simply drew his wand and softly uttered the incantation. Whether Voldemort could see what he had done or not, it was already a fait accompli, unless the other party had a way to disrupt the dark magic transformation he had already completed.

As the surging malice in his heart coalesced, a dark shadow appeared behind him, its hem gently brushing against his palm with the corner of its cloak. The ensuing chill caused the flames beneath the crucible to dim abruptly.

Voldemort scrutinized him for a moment, then suddenly laughed heartily. He looked at Owen with a grin and said slowly, "Going out to kill people during your vacation?"

Irving slightly raised his eyes, which were shrouded in a misty haze, and said with a bright smile in a very pleasant tone, "Yes."

Not only did they kill you, they also raided your hideout and kidnapped your snake.

Sensing the dark and twisted magic emanating from Owen, and the suddenly stronger yet more malevolent spiritual power, Voldemort's expression held a hint of satisfaction, but also a great deal of amusement.

Perhaps the young wizard before him has not yet realized that he himself has already completely fallen into darkness.

Although it was mostly for a better body, Voldemort was still gratified to see a gifted young wizard finally on the right path. He had always been very confident in his ability to be a professor.

To be honest, Owen was somewhat surprised that he had only now taken this step. Under his influence, Owen had completed the Dark Magician's transformation—a dark magic transformation considered unforgivable by others—at the stage when his mind and magic were most unstable. Driven and influenced by cutting-edge dark magic and the Unforgivable Curse, it was inevitable that he would reach this point.

Thinking of this, Voldemort felt a pang of regret. Owen's background and talents destined him to become one of his most capable followers, and he was even quite intelligent, especially since he was now unlikely to be accepted by that stubborn old man Dumbledore. But if he were to possess him, even if he was perfectly suited for possession, the process would inevitably destroy his spirit and mind…

"Congratulations on getting on the right track," Voldemort said softly. "How are you doing with the task I assigned you?"

"The right path..." Owen raised an eyebrow. The path of dark magic?

With his Dark Guardian summoned, his mind was cold and indifferent yet somewhat relaxed. He said earnestly, "I'm inquiring about Cerberus from Hagrid. I'm systematically learning about various magical creatures from him. I'm confident I'll have information about Cerberus in two months at most."

He assessed the progress of his performance preparations and carefully set a deadline. Although he was no longer afraid of Voldemort's possession and was now quite fearless, he decided to give a deadline to prevent Voldemort from losing patience and affecting his plans. Waiting without seeing the future is the most agonizing, but having something to look forward to makes one much more patient.

"Are you sure?" Voldemort's cold gaze seemed to pierce into the depths of his heart. "If you can't do it, I'll be very angry."

"I'm sure, Professor," Owen assured him solemnly.

Since that's the case, there's no need to rush to take over his body. Quirrell can still hold on for a while; he still has some unicorn blood left… Voldemort thought calmly.

"Oh, right, Professor. I've made a major discovery about Harry," Owen suddenly said excitedly.

"...Harry suspected Professor Snape of plotting to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and that night he followed him with us... Later, we encountered two people in black cloaks, one named Trevor and the other Lilith. They claimed to be from the Aetherial Society and had infiltrated Hogwarts long ago with the aim of obtaining the Philosopher's Stone and observing and studying what powers Harry Potter possessed..."

"The Aether Society?" Voldemort sneered. "This little-known organization dares to covet Dumbledore's things. It seems Dumbledore is losing his intimidating power." He felt a sense of melancholy and regret. Dumbledore was getting old after all. Watching such a powerful wizard gradually approach his end only deepened his obsession with immortality.

"However, judging from that man's words, the Etheric Society seems to be a long-established secret organization, even showing disrespect to you," Owen said, bowing slightly. "Of course, it could also be their boasting."

"Go on," Voldemort tapped the table, his expression unreadable.

"They seem to be close to finding a way through Cerberus, and that man also wants to kill Harry and turn him into a collectible." Owen's face showed a slightly strange expression. "Later, Harry displayed a special power."

"Harry's hands seem to have a discerning ability; suspicious people he touches will develop a dense rash of blisters on their hands. I don't know the nature of this ability, but I think it's a way of distinguishing between malice and evil forces," Owen said, downplaying the seriousness of the matter.

He needed to warn Quirrell and Voldemort to be alert to Harry's probing, lest Harry inadvertently find the real culprit. At the same time, he described Harry's ability merely as "detecting malice and causing blisters," so they wouldn't be too wary—after all, who would believe that Harry's loving hugs could be fatal?

"He's been shaking hands with everyone these days to identify suspicious individuals?" Voldemort tapped his finger on the table. "So, has he shaken your hand?"

Owen blinked and said, "I shook his hand, but I'm fine. Maybe it's because I'm not special enough, or maybe I haven't yet entertained the thought of killing him? Whatever his abilities are, I just hope the professors can be careful."

"Quirok told me that he once shook hands with Harry Potter at the Leaky Cauldron," Voldemort said slowly.

"Ah, that's good. As long as Professor Quirrell hasn't changed much, Harry shouldn't be able to recognize him, right?" Owen looked relieved.

Hearing Owen's seemingly unintentional words, Voldemort's expression grew more serious. Quirrell had indeed changed, and changed a lot, since Voldemort hadn't possessed him yet. Just in case, it seemed he'd have to keep an eye on Quirrell.

"This information is very valuable. Please continue," he nodded.

Irving continued to recount the events of that night, downplaying the important parts and telling only a small portion of the truth. After finishing his story, he waited quietly and dispersed the Dark Guard.

The two remained silent for a long time, until wisps of pale purple steam rose from the office, carrying a rich, floral fragrance. Voldemort, having finalized his plan to watch the fourth-floor restricted corridor and learn from Aether's double-crossing tactics, slowly spoke, "Then, let's begin today's lesson. If you cannot achieve something, this should be the last time."

"You've already learned the Confusion Charm, so all that's left is the Curse of the End." He calmly listed out the key points of this top-tier antidote. Although his greatest achievement was in the field of dark magic, it didn't mean he wasn't good at other things. Even his casual remarks could greatly benefit Owen.

"This is a profound undoing for you; it will take you some time to master it." Voldemort elegantly interlaced his fingers as he looked at Owen and said softly, "So, regarding dark magic, what can you choose to learn today?"

"Wow, that's quite humane today. Are you also considering a personalized teaching approach?" Irving thought to himself, pondering his own weaknesses, then said with a smile, "A curse."

(End of this chapter)