Seeing this human skin manuscript signed by Herpo, Ciel was truly somewhat surprised. After all, Herpo the Foul was indeed too famous in the Dark Arts field. Many current Dark Arts originated from Herpo's creations thousands of years ago.
Even the Basilisk, a 5X level dangerous magical creature, was artificially bred by Herpo. Salazar Slytherin even had rumours claiming Herpo was his ancestor.
A wizard of this calibre – his remaining artefacts' value probably wasn't inferior to the Four Founders' heirloom items. What made him pay even more attention was the era Herpo the Foul lived in; it should be very close to the Olympian era's destruction.
Perhaps Herpo the Foul's manuscript could reveal some Olympian-era events. This made his eyes show strangeness. The Malfoy family's favour was quite substantial. They had clearly decided to invest in him.
But he had no intention of refusing. He looked at Draco Malfoy and the glittering crystal ball in Malfoy's hands.
"Whether it was the Chalatike grass seeds you sent me last time or this time's cursed jewellery and manuscript, I'll remember the Malfoy family's help. Perhaps we'll have more cooperation opportunities in the future."
He thought again: "Draco, if you have any magical questions, you can come find me."
Hearing this, Draco Malfoy's face showed joy. He excitedly rubbed his hands together and couldn't help asking: "Really? Then that spell you used in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, the one that summoned five snakes, could you teach me?"
That day Draco had personally witnessed him use the Serpensortia spell. A massive five-headed snake directly crushed Marcus Flint's bones. That scene often surfaced in his mind, making him covet this spell.
He raised an eyebrow with amusement. Serpensortia? In the original story, during the second year's Duelling Club, Malfoy used this spell against Harry. Unexpectedly, this time Malfoy came to learn this spell from him?
Then he nodded: "No problem. This spell was originally gifted to me by your father. I should thank your father; Serpensortia has helped me considerably. How about this: once I finish my current tasks, I'll teach you this spell."
Hearing this, not only was Draco overjoyed, but even Lucius on the other end of the crystal ball couldn't help showing pleasure. It seemed the items sent this time had truly touched his heart. This had significantly shortened the distance between him and Draco.
Thinking this, Lucius felt quite proud. The Malfoy family could stand firm in the magical world for so many years without falling, remaining prosperous regardless of who governed or which faction dominated, precisely because they knew how to spend money, were willing to spend money, and could spend money where it mattered.
Unlike some pure-blood nobles who were pure misers, preferring to let Galleons gather dust in underground vaults and family collections rot in storerooms rather than invest. His vision wasn't so short-sighted.
Herpo the Foul's manuscript naturally had considerable value, but it didn't record any powerful spells; it was mostly filled with musings and random notes and was quite fragmented. The Malfoy family had collected it for many years, but it was just an antique with no practical value.
Moreover, given the Malfoy family's history of following the Dark Lord, the Ministry occasionally checked for Dark Arts items. This manuscript staying in the Malfoy family was quite troublesome.
A worthless hot potato exchanged for such a favour – in old fox Lucius Malfoy's view, it was absolutely profitable. Plus, this further confirmed something: he was definitely accomplished in Dark Arts and quite dark-hearted.
"After all, what innocent little Hufflepuff would so readily accept a manuscript written on human skin and steeped in Dark Arts? Dark Lord material, without question! Perhaps when Dumbledore and Voldemort's time came to an end, Ciel's era would begin!"
With Draco and his increasingly close relationship, perhaps the Malfoy family could advance further.
At this time, Draco carefully bid farewell to him. He also picked up the briefcase containing cursed jewellery and Herpo's manuscript, heading toward the small greenhouse.
After they all left, Hermione, who had been holding her breath and eavesdropping behind the library door, finally exhaled deeply. Then her expression tensed as she hurried toward the Gryffindor Common Room.
Harry and Ron remained marginalised figures, cramming to revise their Transfiguration essays in a corner of the common room. Professor McGonagall would check their essay progress in today's Transfiguration class.
Harry's face showed agony, but Ron, unlike his usual hatred for Transfiguration, displayed a composed attitude, appearing quite relaxed and confident.
But Hermione currently had no attention for these details. She urgently told them about her earlier observations.
This immediately energised Harry: "Malfoy previously antagonised Ciel so much, repeatedly causing trouble for him. Now he's actually showing humble flattery toward Ciel, even giving him so many jewels and a book made of human skin?"
Hermione nodded gravely: "That's right. And not just Draco Malfoy; it should be the entire Malfoy family showing goodwill toward Ciel. I personally heard voices from the crystal ball. Draco called him Father; that should be Lucius Malfoy."
"And the things they gave Ciel..." Hermione recalled the magic emanating from those cursed jewels and that strange human skin manuscript, involuntarily shuddering with a pale face. "Those were definitely extremely dangerous Dark Arts items. I also saw Ciel coming from the Restricted Section today. He's going further down the Dark Arts path. If this continues, the consequences will be unthinkable."
At this time, Harry suddenly interrupted Hermione. He seemed to think of something, pacing back and forth urgently, organising his thoughts, and trying to connect all current clues.
"Look, we know they're all guarding the Philosopher's Stone, right? It makes gold and keeps you alive forever, but it can also bring back things that are nearly dead. That's exactly what Voldemort needs! Snape's obviously working for him—we've seen the proof. And everyone knows the Malfoys are Dark wizards. Lucius followed Voldemort before. When that academic review thing was happening, Snape kept going to the forbidden corridor every day. The Malfoys must have set up that whole review to give him the chance. They're all helping Voldemort get the Stone. But that means... where is Voldemort right now?"
When Harry asked this question, Ron and Hermione froze. A terrible thought flashed through their minds like lightning.
Hermione's face went pale, her voice trembling: "Harry, you... you couldn't mean..."
"Harry nodded seriously. 'That's exactly what I think. Ciel must be Voldemort, or at least closely connected to him. How else do you explain Snape's complete change in attitude—from hatred to what looked like respect? Or Malfoy going from tormenting him to practically grovelling, even bringing him Dark Arts objects? And Hermione, you said the professors all think his magical ability is poor, but when has he ever shown poor performance? Voldemort must be the source of his power. It's the only thing that explains everything!'"
After Harry finished his speculation, after a long while, Ron and Hermione's buzzing heads finally recovered. Hermione wanted to say something, but Harry's reasoning seemed flawless.
Ron had no doubts whatsoever: "I always felt something was wrong with Ciel. His true colours are finally showing! So what do we do? Tell Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall?"
Harry shook his head: "Professor McGonagall is already very angry with us. She won't believe us. Without evidence, Headmaster Dumbledore definitely won't believe our claims either. As for other professors..."
He thought about it, feeling even more chilled. Unknowingly, Hogwarts professors all seemed quite close to Ciel. They couldn't even find anyone to ask for help. This was the Dark Lord's method?!
Fortunately, a figure surfaced in Harry's mind: Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor Quirinus Quirrell. Recently, Professor Quirrell had been leading Ministry Aurors investigating disappearance incidents and that monster.
After he joined, the monster's actions repeatedly failed. According to the Daily Prophet, Professor Quirrell had grasped key clues. In a few days, the monster would be brought to justice.
Thinking of Quirrell, Harry relaxed slightly. This professor was so powerful and had been fighting Snape. If anyone at Hogwarts could still be trusted, it was Quirrell.
Harry's eyes showed determination: "We must quickly write to Professor Quirrell and tell him everything happening at Hogwarts. Only he can stop the Dark Lord's actions now."
In the wilderness, among mountains and forests, damp cold mist spread. Instantly, it was broken by numerous Lumos spells. Ministry personnel were everywhere. Aurors had almost mobilised completely. Now, powerful magic had sealed this mountain forest. Nothing inside could escape.
That monster responsible for countless tragedies was now locked in the forest. Capture was just a matter of time. Thinking this, patrolling Aurors breathed easier. These days had been like nightmares even for them, powerful man-eating monsters, with pressure from superiors and magical world public opinion almost suffocating them.
Fortunately, Professor Quirrell had come. This disappearance incident would finally end.
At this time, in a tent outside the forest, Quirrell, almost hailed as a hero by the media, waved his wand, covering the tent entrance with powerful protective spells. Then he stretched slightly, showing a strange, cold smile.
Under his cloak, his human body began changing. Red hair emerged strand by strand. More limbs drilled out from under Quirrell's flesh. He exhaled: "Been holding back all day. Finally can breathe."
Simultaneously, Quirrell's face showed greed. He opened what looked like a clothing storage box in his tent. When opened, it revealed a dark staircase leading underground. Below in the darkness, piercing wails could be faintly heard.
Quirrell's limbs swayed, carrying him unhesitatingly down the stairs. Soon, the scene below came into view: rows of cages! In the central open area stood a long table. Even covered with a tablecloth, the table was completely dark red, seemingly soaked through with blood.
When Quirrell descended, two completely different sounds came from the cages. One was eager anticipation, faces pressed against cage bars, trying to approach Quirrell with hungry expressions, like starving dogs begging their master for food.
These cages held monsters with red hair resembling Quintapeds. But from their remaining clothing, some wore Ministry uniforms and even bore Auror badges! Other cages held whimpering sobs, shrinking backward, seemingly terrified of Quirrell to the extreme.
Quirrell paid no mind, routinely opening a cage and extracting his "food" for today. Soon, a lavish feast began on the long table. Food scraps were thrown into cages holding transformed wizards, letting those starving Quintapeds begin eating eagerly.
Watching this scene, Voldemort's voice echoed in Quirrell's mind: "The Ministry remains as useless as ever. They probably couldn't dream that Professor Quirrell, you, this hero, is the true culprit behind everything. Performing here with them is just to accumulate more materials for Quintaped transformation. Counting numbers, it should be about enough. Acting now, even if the Ministry are stupid, they should notice something's wrong. Five or six Aurors plus Dark wizards captured from Knockturn Alley, though their transformation was rushed, far inferior to true Quintapeds and incomparable to my transformation of you, they're sufficient."
But Voldemort frowned: "But with you being so high profile, are you sure there won't be problems? Returning to Hogwarts, Dumbledore will probably keep watching you."
To this, Quirrell's face showed coldness: "Does continuing to stutter and act weak like before work? Without accumulating fame and building momentum, I'll never be able to oppose Dumbledore at Hogwarts; like a mouse, Dumbledore can toy with me however he wants. Only by achieving an unparalleled reputation can I contest Dumbledore at Hogwarts. I should have realised this earlier."
Quirrell viciously tore off a bloody piece of raw meat: "Moreover, I'm tired of playing a stuttering, cowardly, incompetent waste. I, Quirinus Quirrell, am a genius, not a circus clown playing house games with Dumbledore! If Dumbledore wants to play, I'll accompany him."
Thinking of Quirrell's insane plan, even Voldemort was somewhat astounded. After choosing to abandon humanity and accept the Quintaped transformation, Quirrell's thinking truly was no longer human.
But moments later, Voldemort didn't care. No matter what chaos this plan would cause at Hogwarts or how many would die, he only wanted the Philosopher's Stone. Get the Philosopher's Stone, make a comeback, achieve victory – someone would whitewash this history!
Just then, fluctuations came from outside the tent. Quirrell's expression changed slightly. Red hair and writhing limbs retracted under his cloak. Blood from the corners of his mouth and meat scraps between his teeth were quickly cleaned.
Only then did Quirrell return from the cages to his tent, tightly closing the box and checking the source of magical fluctuations.
Soon, his eyes showed impatience: "Owl? Damn it, which ignorant fool is writing again, praising me as a hero. Ignorant things only know how to follow idols. They don't even know if their idol is human or ghost; as long as it's an idol, they follow. All trash."
Just as Quirrell was about to dismiss this letter, he suddenly paused: "Wait. This owl." Quirrell raised an eyebrow, remembering where he had seen this particularly beautiful owl: "Isn't this Harry Potter's owl? The one called Hedwig? Harry Potter actually wrote to me?"
With curiosity, Quirrell opened the letter. Seeing its contents, even though he was no longer human, Quirrell still couldn't help pausing.
Since Voldemort on his skull's back couldn't see this letter, he kept urging: "Quirrell, what did Potter write?"
After a moment, Quirrell's voice carried strangeness: "He told me he suspects that little badger Ciel Sprout is the Dark Lord. He hopes I'll guard Hogwarts and thwart the Dark Lord's conspiracy."
Voldemort also paused. Then the tent echoed with Quirrell and Voldemort's dual laughter, every sound carrying mockery and coldness.
When the laughter finally subsided, Quirrell's voice was ghostly, his eyes full of malice: "Since the saviour has made such a request, then Master, when I return to Hogwarts and the plan begins, I'll take good care of that little badger Ciel. You won't mind, will you?"
Voldemort, who once quite appreciated Ciel, now showed no fluctuation whatsoever. Though Ciel had shown him "loyalty", so what? He only looked at value. Now, after Quirrell became a Quintaped, his value was undoubtedly much higher than Ciel's.
Leaving Ciel for Quirrell to handle required no hesitation. "Do as you wish. I only look at results."
Hearing Voldemort's reply, Quirrell's mouth curved into a cold smile: "Ciel Sprout, you don't know what horror you'll face. Cherish your remaining final days."
At this time, in the small greenhouse, he knew nothing about the Golden Trio seeking help from Quirrell or Quirrell's plans. Or rather, even if he knew, what could it change? Strengthening himself was fundamental.
His gaze fell on plants in the small greenhouse. After his magical perception improved, his sensing of magic in magical herbs had become much more acute. Details previously unperceived were now crystal clear.
The next moment, his gaze fell on the long-cultivated variant Devil's Snare. Seeming to notice something, his eyes flashed with surprise: "Hmm?!"