Chapter 32: The Peak Produces False Supporters, and the Dusk Witnesses the True Slaves

A reading activity that lasted for most of the class ended like this.

The little wizards were greatly disappointed. This kind of Defense Against the Dark Arts class was completely meaningless and just a waste of time. Even a dog on the podium would be better than Quirrell. At least it wouldn't stutter when barking.

The one who suffered more than the students was Quirrell. He didn't know how he could survive the get out of class after being tortured by Rolf. On the way to the office, his eyes were dizzy and his legs were shaking.

The boy Scamander was like a chatterbox. During class, he kept dragging him there to chat, talking about his trip to Albania, and those days of "How Quirrell scolded and insulted the Dark Lord in a fancy way"...

Quirrell did scold!

He admits it!

At that time, he had not yet entered the Albanian forest, nor had he seen the Dark Lord, but he met the famous Mr. Scamander and his grandson Rolf...

Luofu kept pestering him, wanting to hear stories about the African savanna, and looked at him with admiration... Chilo was a little carried away, and drank some more wine brought by Luofu, and followed the strength of the wine and pointed out the country, "Gently "A few insults" to the Dark Lord.

If things come to this point, that's it, but he enters the Albanian forest and really encounters the Dark Lord...

At this point, there is still room for maneuver. It has been a long time anyway, but this kid who was going to Ilvermorny came to Hogwarts, and helped him forcefully start a wave of memory killings...

Rolf Scamander, if you are so talkative, does your autistic grandpa know? !

It was really hard for Quirrell to imagine what a wonderful expression the Dark Lord on the back of his head would have when he heard those words. Anyway, he already wanted to die!

I used to pour alcohol when I had it, but why didn't I pour it that night and even talked such nonsense... Drinking made things worse!

Quirrell was in a daze as he walked toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts office alone. Students kept pointing at him in the corridor, and he had no time to pay attention.

Quirrell stumbled to the office. He opened the door tremblingly and closed it.

Lock it up!

Quirrell stood in front of a mirror and slowly untied the thick scarf on his head, revealing a bald head.

There is a face on the back of the head, as white as chalk, with closed eyes, and below it are two slender nostrils like snakes.

After Quirrell took off his scarf, he began to take off his loose robe. He took off all his clothes and knelt naked in the center of the office.

His body was so thin that all his ribs were visible, and his back was even more shocking with large scars.

Quirrell raised his wand, and one end of the wand transformed into a slender whip with sharp metal barbs.

Quirrell picked up the whip, gritted his teeth, and whipped his back hard. The skin that had almost grown back became dripping with blood again.

He twitched up and down, letting out bursts of screams, and shouted piously:

"Master, forgive me for my ignorance, and forgive me for offending you with my words.

At that time, I was just a confused wizard in the world. It was you who helped me find my goal and direction...

I'm guilty,

I repent,

Please show me mercy..."

Quirrell whipped himself hard, but the face on the back of his head never opened his eyes, allowing him to whip.

The whole office was filled with the sounds of whipping, Quirrell's cries and prayers.

After a long time, the familiar voice finally sounded: "Okay, of course I forgive you, my most loyal servant."

The voice was cold and biting, but it was like the sound of nature in Quirrell's ears. He took a breath, lay on the ground and cried bitterly, murmuring:

"Thank you, Master, for your kindness."

Voldemort narrowed his blood-red eyes. If it were before, he would just reward him with "Avada Kedavra"...

A servant dared to scold him, what a deception!

But now the Dark Lord has no one available except Quirrell. He doesn't want to go back to the deep forest and lurk in the dark for another ten years!

You can only choose to forgive! !

"Scamander saw you in Albania?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes, Master, I didn't expect him to come to Hogwarts. Do you want to kill him?" Quirrell asked.

"Idiot! You killed someone under Dumbledore's nose. Do you think he won't find you?" Voldemort screamed:

"The fact that you broke into the Gringotts vault was enough to alert him. If you start killing people again, you won't have another chance to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

"so what should I do now?"

"You should really make plans early." Voldemort narrowed his eyes and said with a gloomy expression:

"If Dumbledore knew that you had been to Albania and you didn't mention it to him, he would definitely be suspicious of you."

"My strength is still too weak, and you alone are not enough to deal with the current situation." Voldemort's eyes were full of murderous intent, and he whispered: "I must summon another of my slaves."

Quirrell knelt on the ground, his whole body shaking like chaff and said, "Is it Snape? He used to be your servant, in Hogwarts..."

"No!" Voldemort's uncertain face showed a sarcastic look, and he sneered: "

"The night I lost my power, Snape turned against Dumbledore and became a professor at Hogwarts. He lived peacefully for ten years without ever looking for his master again.

The peak produces false support, and the dusk witnesses the true slave...I can't believe now that he is still mine..."

"Then who do you ask for help?"

Voldemort whispered in Quirrell's ear, and Quirrell's whole body trembled with excitement.

"With that guy, we will definitely succeed, Master!"

"Do you really think so?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes Master……"

Voldemort calmed his expression, his eyes showed the cruelty of his cold nature, and he said angrily:

"Hurry up and throw this thought into the Albanian forest. Have you forgotten the failure of Gringotts?

Let me tell you, it would be strange if you think you can make another mistake and I can make you a comfortable professor here! "

"Master, I will not let you down again..." Quirrell cried, like a little daughter-in-law who made a mistake, with a look of aggrievedness.

"Don't show such a disgusting face. I'm scolding you today for your own good. I'm scolding you to see if you can still be useful." Voldemort's tone became more and more fierce:

"Whenever I stop losing my temper, it will be enough for you to see."

Quirrell just kowtowed.

"How are the herbs?"

"I have already brought a lot of thorns from the Forbidden Forest. I will soon be able to steal herbs, and then steal the magic stone to brew the potion to revive you." Quirrell said with a look of fear on his face.

"Well, there is also unicorn blood!" Voldemort narrowed his eyes and said, "I need to regain some strength. I went to the Forbidden Forest recently to catch a few."

"Yes, Master!"

Voldemort closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep again. In this state, he could not do much except feel what was happening outside.

Quirrell struggled to stand up. He walked to a small basin of fresh water and gently wiped the blood off his back with the fresh water, observing the way the blood swirled in the water.

After a moment, he looked into the mirror. Two mirrors, one in front and one behind, allowed him to see clearly the face of the Dark Lord with his eyes closed.

That terrifying, noseless face aroused an unbridled impulse in Quirrell's body.

This blasphemous thought made Quirrell shudder. He picked up the belt and stabbed the sharp metal barbs into his flesh.

Pain suppresses desire.

When the barb of the whip penetrated deeper, Quirrell's muscles all over his body instinctively contracted. He exhaled slowly, savoring the satisfaction brought by the pain.

After drying the wound, the man put his robe back on and wrapped his scarf around his head. He was back to being the timid, stuttering Quirrell.

…

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(Thanks to the "Book Friends" boss for the tip.)