A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 49 is taught separately.

"Irving, where are you going again?"

Upon noticing that Irving was once again acting mysteriously and not returning to the common room, Blaise asked curiously.

"Go ask Professor Quirrell some questions about Defense Against the Dark Arts," Owen said with a sly smile. There was nothing wrong with that; it's only natural for a student to ask their teacher questions.

"Huh?" Blaise looked startled. "You're asking him? I think you'd be better off reading a book yourself..."

"Or have you finally discovered Quirrell's hidden strengths?" He asked, his eyes wide. Harry, Daphne, and the others nearby also looked over with great curiosity.

"That's right, his theoretical knowledge is actually very solid." Owen said the truth in a serious tone, "After all, he is an outstanding graduate of Ravenclaw, so he must have some skills."

"If what you're saying is that one of your two skills is stuttering and the other is being covered in garlic... then I agree." Draco happened to be strolling over with Crabbe and Goyle, and upon hearing this, he commented without any politeness, making no attempt to hide his contempt for Quirrell.

"You're something else, Owen," Harry said, half-laughing, half-crying. "Back when you were already talking to Mr. Filch, I should have guessed this day would come sooner or later..."

"I hope you come back without smelling like pickled vegetables," Draco said with a frown, moving away from Harry as if the other boy carried some terrible germ. Harry also frowned, refusing to even look at him.

"Hmm...that is a problem," Owen said solemnly. "So, I'll be right back."

After saying that, he stopped letting the group tease him and disappeared into the stairwell.

"Speaking of which, I've always been curious about how Irving manages to stay ahead of everyone in every class?" Draco said suspiciously. "He's so lazy, he always finishes his homework hastily and then sleeps in the lounge... I suspect he's gotten a lot of tricks from the school's professors."

"According to Irving, he wasn't sleeping, he was brainstorming," Daphne said with a laugh.

"Tch, who would believe that? I could say that in my dreams too." Draco raised his head high and swaggered away.

"Harry, you and Draco..." Pansy coughed lightly.

"What do you think of today's Potions class homework...?" Harry abruptly changed the subject.

As they walked toward the common room, Owen had already arrived outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

He paused at the door, rummaged through his bag and pulled out a packet of potion ingredients, then knocked on the door.

After the last test, Owen confirmed that Voldemort's mind-reading ability had been greatly weakened. Not only could he not read other people's thoughts at any time, but he would also most likely need to make eye contact to have it work.

Furthermore, his recent significant progress in Occlumency surgery has allowed him to retain his memories of his past life. Owen dislikes the feeling of severing ties with his past life, as it causes him to lose a crucial part of himself, significantly impacting him and making him prone to making choices against his true will.

Of course, just in case, Owen severed his memories of the storyline. This was a necessary precaution when facing the Dark Lord.

"Come in." Shortly after the knocking, a soft yet authoritative voice came from inside the door.

Irving's hand paused in mid-air for a moment; this tone didn't sound like Quirrell's...

He pushed open the door and glanced into the office, only to meet a pair of intrigued eyes. "Quirk" was sitting behind the desk, tapping the surface with his pale fingers, looking him up and down with a half-smile.

Irving's lips twitched, and he suddenly felt a toothache. Seriously, is it really okay for you to come out like this when you have nothing better to do? Aren't you worried about Quirrell's health? He inexplicably felt sorry for Quirrell, even though it was all his own fault.

"Good evening, Professor Quirrell. I've brought the medicinal herbs you needed." Owen smiled innocently, determined to pretend he didn't know who was on the other end.

"Now that you've discovered my identity, there's no need for you to play any tricks." Voldemort's haughty eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, as if he were examining a fascinating toy.

He curled the corners of his mouth slightly, glanced at the clock on the wall, and said lazily, "As long as I don't use magic, I can hold out for a while. Hmm, not bad, punctual."

Since the other party had said that, Owen relaxed as well. After all, bound by the oath, the other party wouldn't attack him at this time. Owen walked directly to the opposite side and placed the herbal packet on the table: "Then should I address you... Lord Dark Lord? The herbs are all here. If you have no other needs, I'll take my leave."

"You can call me Professor." Voldemort glanced lazily at the potion ingredients on the table before turning his gaze back to Owen, saying softly, "I waited for you here specifically to fulfill the lesson I promised you in my oath."

As he spoke, he glanced at Irving's left hand, a half-smile returning to his face: "I think you've noticed too."

"Yes, it was a very subtle oath spell; I didn't even notice it at the time," Owen said with a smile, touching the back of his left hand.

"It's just a minor spell; it won't fool an experienced wizard. In fact, if you have the relevant knowledge, breaking it isn't difficult at all," Voldemort said casually, nonchalantly pointing out the weakness of the oath. "Of course, it requires a certain level of dark magic."

"Well, I think it's very necessary to have an oath as a binding force," Owen said politely. "Ah, since you're going to be teaching, would you mind if I cleaned your office for you, Professor?"

Meeting the other person's interested gaze, Owen drew his wand and cast a "Clean Up" spell into the office.

The clutter in the corners, cabinets, and on the desks automatically tidied up; trash was automatically packed up and thrown outside; the grime on the desks and chairs was instantly swept away; and dust accumulated in hidden places, along with the pervasive smell of garlic, rushed out of the office. In the blink of an eye, the messy office became clean and tidy. If only a few more lights were on, it would be even better.

Owen waved his wand to close the door, then sat down in the chair opposite the desk, adopting a dutiful listening posture. Since it was a condition of the vow, he couldn't refuse; he might as well be a good student—he wouldn't lose out anyway.

"I wonder what spell the professor will teach me tonight?" Owen said in a lively and pleasant tone, like a child looking forward to a new toy.

Voldemort looked at him with amusement, his eyes filled with mockery: "Then let's start with... the Patronus Charm." He said casually, but made no attempt to hide his contempt for the spell.

Huh? Irving blinked.

Dark Lord, you're being a bit mischievous.

(End of this chapter)