A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 41 The Dark Lord's Demand

In the dimly lit office, the atmosphere was utterly silent, with only the crackling of the stove fire mingling with the sound of rain outside, filling the lifeless space.

Quirrell fidgeted with the corner of the table, while Owen remained calm. Their eyes met, but Quirrell's gaze flickered and became vacant for a moment, his expression shifting rapidly. Finally, he seemed to gain more confidence, but his face wore an expression of reluctance and forced obedience.

Irving carefully observed the changes in his expression, silently calculating his next course of action.

The little tabby cat in his arms bristled again, its golden eyes giving Owen a helpless look before struggling to burrow into the pocket of his robe. It deeply regretted following this guy, falling into the hands of a terrifying, evil creature. The cat had been living in constant fear all night, its heart pounding with dread. Was this any way for a cat to survive?

Quirrell looked up at Owen, his expression one of deep displeasure and ill intent. He said softly, "What if our master wanted your loyalty?"

He squinted at Owen, reluctantly but perhaps having someone else share the burden would be a good thing. His master was too powerful and too strict. Although he wanted to claim all the credit for resurrecting the Dark Lord, the punishment for mistakes and failures instilled a deep-seated fear in him.

"Come, become followers of the Dark Lord! When he returns, we will receive unimaginable rewards and supreme glory!" Quirrell shouted fanatically, like a mad believer who had lost his mind.

"The Dark Lord?" Owen's expression froze for the first time. After his memories were fragmented, he never expected to receive such an answer, and for a moment, he felt incredibly troubled.

Assuming Quirrell is telling the truth, then many of his methods absolutely cannot be used. If the Dark Lord is indeed not dead, but waiting to make a comeback, and Owen offends him… although the Dark Lord currently seems to be merely clinging to life, if he were to truly return one day, Owen himself could flee for his life, but what about his parents?

With a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, Irving blurted out, "You're lying to me!" Even if it's true, it has to be fake now!

"The Dark Lord... he's not coming back! Everyone says so!"

"That's because they're fools, they're ignorant!" Quirrell sneered. "Their shallow understanding will never comprehend the immense power our master possesses. He has truly entered the realm of immortality! Even if he's temporarily down, as long as we help him obtain the Philosopher's Stone, he will rise again, and then he will complete his unfinished work and sweep across the entire world!"

"How can you prove this isn't just a fabricated story you made up to get me to comply? In fact, I think that's more likely." Owen looked at him indifferently.

How to make the Dark Lord prove that he is himself is an interesting question.

"Owen Shafik, your parents supported the Dark Lord's ideals back then." Quirrell realized that this couldn't be proven for the time being, so he changed the subject and said, "They were just too cowardly. They only dared to support him from behind, but they didn't dare to pave the way for the Dark Lord... But you are different. The Dark Lord saw your intelligence, extraordinary courage, and great ambition."

"You can do better than your parents, do things they wouldn't even dare to imagine, achieve feats that will amaze them and everyone else... Only the Dark Lord can make you that way, Owen Shafik." Quirrell's eyes gleamed.

No, they'll just hang me up and break my legs! Irving thought to himself.

"I will help you get the Philosopher's Stone," Owen said slowly.

Quirrell chuckled leisurely: "That's it?"

"I will help you get the Philosopher's Stone," Owen repeated, paused, and then said, "When he truly returns, I am willing to stay by his side."

Quirrell's face darkened. He seemed about to say something, but then his expression shifted slightly, and he feigned a listening posture. After a moment, he gave Owen a strange, jealous look, and nodded coldly, saying, "Remember what you said."

"Of course," Irving nodded.

"Besides the Philosopher's Stone, you also need to do everything you can to find us some herbs and even potions," Quirrell said coldly.

"This is something I promised a long time ago."

"In addition, you must promise that you will not, in any way, tell or remind anyone of anything you know about me and the Dark Lord," Quirrell continued.

"I promise," Irving said thoughtfully.

"Well, there's one last thing." Quirrell's lips twitched. "Master knows that you have a close relationship with Harry Potter."

"It's alright." Owen looked at him with sudden realization. He finally understood why the other person had cast the Imperius Curse on him as soon as they met instead of the Forgetfulness Curse; it was Harry's fault.

"No, the boy who survived trusts you deeply," Quirrell chuckled coldly. "Much more than Draco Malfoy, who's always with him. Master knows everything..."

"Well, I didn't even know about this myself," Owen said softly. "I understand. I'll keep an eye on Harry Potter, unless you want me to kill him."

"You can't kill him, but keeping an eye on him is enough," Quirrell scoffed, then tossed Owen's wand back to him.

Owen took the wand, pulled a soaking wet white handkerchief from his pocket, carefully wiped it, and then put it away.

"Of course, the Dark Lord won't let his followers work for nothing. Not killing you before was just a convenient thing to do." Quirrell's expression became excited. "He's willing to bestow upon you the reward you deserve, such as... the knowledge you crave." The Dark Lord is now inside his body, and teaching Owen means he can also get something for free. How could he not be excited? For a moment, he even seemed to find Owen more agreeable.

"Huh?" Owen's eyes lit up. Such a good thing? He answered without hesitation, "The theory of advanced spells!"

Undoubtedly, spells can be upgraded. Wizards can modify spells to enhance their power or produce special effects, which is why many spells can turn the ordinary into the extraordinary in the hands of powerful wizards.

For example, Grindelwald could transform an ordinary fire shield into a gas stove, which could also be used to test loyalty, and even unleash its terrifying power to nearly burn down a city... This is an advanced form of spell. Of course, this is the most advanced example, and probably only wizards like Dumbledore and the Dark Lord could master it.

Who wouldn't want a cool gas stove? Even though most wizards will never reach that level in their lifetime, it is undeniable that the advancement of spells is very useful for all wizards. It can strengthen and expand many spells and make up for many weaknesses.

Quirrell paused for a moment, then said with some regret, "The Dark Lord doesn't have the time or energy to teach you such complicated things... You are a talented wizard, and your master is willing to teach you a few spells. Don't be greedy, Owen Shafik."

"I see..." Owen immediately lost interest. He didn't have much need for spells at the moment, and he still had so many spells he hadn't mastered.

But not making a request now seemed impossible… Owen pondered the spells he hadn't yet grasped or begun learning, then drew his wand and pointed to a roll of parchment on the table. The paper unfolded automatically, and a quill pen beside it sprang to life, scribbling on it:

Ironclad Curse, Oblivion Curse, Explosion Curse, Confusion Curse, and Curse of the End of All Curses.

"That's all." Owen haphazardly pushed the parchment towards Quirrell, already planning how to settle the little raccoon cat when they got back.

As for these spells, Owen could just scribble them down casually, the Dark Lord could fudge them, and that would be the end of it. He had no interest in anything from the Dark Lord right now. The Dark Lord's black magic? That was magic that could truly corrupt the mind. Owen would naturally begin to study it when he was powerful enough to suppress its side effects, but for now, he'd better stay away from that stuff.

Kyrie Irving has always been able to clearly understand what he wants.

"That's it?" Quirrell stared dumbfounded at the writing on the parchment. For a moment, he wanted to crack open Owen's skull and see if his brain was filled with water. That was the Dark Lord! And you actually want to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts from him? And all of them are common spells?

He clearly heard the Dark Lord say "Hmm?" in his mind, clearly confused as well.

"Are you sure?" Quirrell crumpled the paper in his hand.

"No problem." Owen glanced at it and nodded seriously.

"Is that all?" Quirrell asked, unwilling to give up.

"Hmm... Guardian Charm?" Owen murmured, his thoughts wandering, before offering an awkward yet polite smile. It seemed he'd touched a nerve; was he being a bit arrogant?

Quirrell remained silent for a long time before finally saying, "The Dark Lord's greatest strength lies in his dark magic..."

"Professor Quirrell, aiming too high isn't a good habit," Owen said innocently, shrugging. "I'm just a first-year wizard."

"Oh dear, it's getting late. Please allow me to take my leave, Professor." Owen took out his pocket watch again and glanced at it.

"Go ahead," Quirrell said.

"Goodbye, Professor." Irving walked out of the office and closed the door behind him.

(End of this chapter)