Seeing the notebook bound in human skin, signed by Herpo the Foul himself, Char was genuinely surprised. The name was legendary in the annals of dark magic. Many of the most vile curses and spells had their origins in prototypes created by Herpo thousands of years ago. Even the Basilisk, a 5X-level magical beast, had been his artificial creation. Rumors even whispered that he was an ancestor of Salazar Slytherin himself. An item left behind by a wizard of this caliber was likely as valuable as an heirloom from one of the Four Founders.
What felt even more significant to Char was the era in which Herpo the Foul had lived. It was a time very close to the fall of the Olympian age. Perhaps, within these notes, he could find clues about that lost world. This favor from the Malfoy family was truly substantial. It was clear they had decided to invest heavily in him.
But Char had no intention of refusing. He looked at Draco Malfoy, and then at the gleaming crystal ball in Malfoy's hand. "Whether it was the Chalati grass seeds you gave me last time, or the cursed jewelry and this notebook, I will remember the Malfoy family's help. Perhaps in the future, we will have more opportunities to cooperate." He then added, "Draco, if you have any magical problems, you can come to me."
Hearing this, a brilliant, almost manic grin spread across Draco Malfoy's face. He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Really? That spell you used in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class… the one that summoned a five-headed snake… could you teach me?"
That day, Draco had witnessed Char use the Serpent-Summoning Charm to create a massive five-headed snake that had effortlessly crushed Marcus Flint's bones. The image had been burned into his mind, and he had coveted the curse ever since.
Char raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. The Snake-Summoning Charm? In the original story, Malfoy had used this very spell on Harry during the Dueling Club in their second year. He never expected that this time, Malfoy would come to him to learn it. He nodded. "No problem. This spell was originally given to me by your father. Speaking of which, I have to thank him. The charm was of great help to me. How about this, I'll teach it to you once I'm done with what I'm doing."
As soon as these words were spoken, not only was Draco Malfoy ecstatic, but even Lucius Malfoy, listening on the other side of the crystal ball, couldn't help but show his joy. It seemed the gift this time had truly touched Char's heart, shortening the distance between him and Draco considerably. Thinking of this, Lucius felt quite proud. The reason the Malfoy family had been able to stand firm in the wizarding world for so many years, no matter who was in power, was because they knew how to spend money, where it should be spent. Unlike some pure-blood misers, he was not so short-sighted.
Herpo the Foul's notebook was certainly valuable, but it contained no powerful spells, mostly just fragmented sighs and essays. The Malfoy family had collected it many years ago, but it was just an antique with no practical use. What's more, given their history of defecting to the Dark Lord, the Ministry of Magic conducted inspections from time to time. The notebook was a hot potato. Giving this worthless, dangerous item to Char in exchange for such a favor was, in the old fox's eyes, a huge profit. It also confirmed one thing: this young Char was not to be underestimated. His attainments in dark magic were definitely not low, and he had a very dark heart. Otherwise, what naive child would accept a notebook made of human skin without hesitation? The qualification for a Dark Lord is confirmed! he thought. Wait until the era of Dumbledore and Voldemort is over. What follows will be the era of Char!
At this time, Draco Malfoy carefully said goodbye to Char, who then picked up the chest containing the cursed jewels and Herpo's codex and walked towards the small greenhouse.
After they had all left, Hermione, who had been eavesdropping from behind the library door with bated breath, was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, her expression tensed. She hurried towards the Gryffindor common room.
Harry and Ron were still marginalized and excluded, busy revising their essays on Transfiguration in a corner. Harry's face was filled with an expression of unbearable pain, but Ron, unlike usual, did not hate the subject. He even showed an attitude of ease and comfort. But Hermione had no time to pay attention to these things. She hurriedly told the two of them what she had seen and heard.
This perked Harry up instantly. "Malfoy was so hard on Char before, and now he's actually being so humble and fawning towards him? He even gave him so many jewels and a book made of human skin?"
Hermione nodded solemnly. "That's right. And it's not just Draco. It's the entire Malfoy family trying to show goodwill. I heard the voice from the crystal ball with my own ears. Draco called him father. That should be Lucius Malfoy. And what they gave him…" She recalled the magic emanating from the cursed jewels and the strange notebook. She couldn't help but shiver, her face pale. "Those are definitely extremely dangerous dark magic items. I also saw Char come out of the Restricted Section today. He has gone further and further down the path of the dark arts. If this continues, the consequences will be disastrous."
At this time, Harry suddenly interrupted her. He seemed to have thought of something, pacing back and forth anxiously, organizing the thoughts in his mind and connecting all the clues. "We now know that Dumbledore and the professors are guarding the Philosopher's Stone. Voldemort has always wanted it. We've confirmed Snape is his lackey, helping him obtain it. The Malfoy family are dark wizards who once followed Voldemort. The academic review kept the professors busy, and Snape went to the fourth-floor corridor every day during that time, surely hoping to seize the stone. This opportunity was created for him by Malfoy. So, the Malfoy family is also helping Voldemort. The question arises… where is Voldemort now?"
When Harry asked this question, Ron and Hermione both froze. A terrible thought flashed through their minds like lightning. Hermione paled, asking in a trembling voice, "Harry… you, you don't mean—"
Harry nodded seriously. "That's right. I think Char is Voldemort. Or, at least, he has a very close connection with him. Otherwise, why would Snape treat him so badly at first, but later become so close to him? Why would Malfoy be so humble to him and send him all kinds of dark magic items? And Hermione, you mentioned it too. The professors all know that Char's talent isn't good. But how can his performance tell that he has no talent? Maybe it's because of Voldemort that he behaves like this! Everything makes sense now!"
After Harry finished his guess, Hermione and Ron's buzzing heads finally came to their senses. Hermione wanted to say something, but Harry's reasoning seemed impeccable. Ron didn't even have the slightest doubt. "I've long felt that something was wrong with him. His flaws are finally revealed! 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 it. If we don't provide evidence, Headmaster Dumbledore will never believe us. As for the rest of the professors—" He thought about it and felt a chill in his heart. Before they knew it, it seemed like all the professors at Hogwarts had a close relationship with Char. They couldn't even find anyone to ask for help. This was a Dark Lord's method.
But fortunately, at this moment, a figure appeared in Harry's mind: Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirinus Quirrell. During this period, he and the Aurors from the Ministry of Magic had investigated the disappearances and the monster. After he had joined, the monster's actions were repeatedly frustrated. According to the Daily Prophet, Professor Quirrell had a key clue, and in a few days, the monster would be brought to justice. Thinking of him, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. This professor was so powerful. He was still fighting against Snape. If there was still someone in Hogwarts who could be trusted, it was Quirrell. Harry's eyes showed determination. "We must write to Professor Quirrell quickly. Just tell him everything that happened at Hogwarts. Now only he can stop the Dark Lord's actions."
Miles away, in a damp, cold forest filled with fog, a powerful magic had blocked off a vast area. Nothing inside could escape. The monster that had caused countless atrocities was now locked in these mountains. It was just a matter of time before it was caught. The Aurors on patrol breathed a sigh of relief. These days had been like a nightmare. Fortunately, Professor Quirrell had come. This incident was finally coming to an end.
And at this time, in a tent outside the forest, Quirrell, who was almost hailed as a hero by the media, waved his wand and cast a powerful protective spell at the entrance. Then, he stretched his body a little, a strange, cold smile appearing on his face. Under his cloak, his human body began to mutate. One after another, red hairs emerged. More limbs writhed from beneath his flesh. He exhaled. "I've been holding it in for a whole day. Finally, I can breathe."
At the same time, a look of greed appeared on his face. He opened what looked like a clothing storage box in his tent. After it was opened, a dark staircase leading underground was revealed. Below, one could faintly hear bursts of creepy screams. The limbs on his body swung, carrying him down the stairs without hesitation. A moment later, the scene below came into view. It was a room filled with cages. In the center, there was a long table. Even though there was a tablecloth on it, the top was already covered in black and red, soaked in blood.
When Quirrell came down, two completely different noises were heard from inside the cages. One sound was impatience. Faces came closer to the bars, trying to get close to him, their faces full of appetite. Like starving dogs begging for food. The creatures locked in these cages were actually Quintapeds with red hair. But judging from the clothes still on them, some had been wearing Ministry of Magic uniforms. Some even wore the Auror's mark. And in other cages, there were sobbing sounds. People shrank back, terrified of him to the extreme.
Quirrell didn't care. He opened a cage with ease and took out his "food" for the day. A moment later, a sumptuous feast began at the long table. As for the food scraps, he threw them into the cages of the wizards who had been transformed into Quintapeds. The extremely hungry creatures couldn't wait to start eating.
Watching this scene, Voldemort's voice echoed in Quirrell's mind. "The Ministry of Magic is still as rubbish as ever. They would never have dreamed that you, Professor Quirrell, the hero, are the culprit behind all this. The reason you are here, acting with them, is just to accumulate some more materials to transform more Quintapeds." Voldemort's gaze fell upon the cages. "Counting them, that should be about right. If we act now, even if the Ministry is stupid, they will realize something is wrong. Five or six Aurors, plus the dark wizards abducted from Knockturn Alley… it's enough." But Voldemort frowned. "But you're so high-profile. Are you sure there won't be any problems? If you go back to Hogwarts, Dumbledore will probably keep an eye on you."
To this, a cold look appeared on Quirrell's face. "Will it help if I continue to pretend to stutter like before? If I don't accumulate fame, build momentum for myself, I'll never be able to stand up to Dumbledore at Hogwarts. I'd be like a mouse he could do whatever he wants with. Only by gaining unrivaled momentum can I fight him. I should have thought of this earlier." He viciously tore off a piece of bloody raw meat. "Besides, I'm also tired of playing a stuttering, wimpy, incompetent piece of trash. I, Quirinus Quirrell, am a genius, not some circus clown that plays house with Dumbledore! He wants to play, so I'll play with him."
Thinking of Quirrell's crazy plan, even Voldemort was a little stunned. After Quirrell chose not to be human and accepted the transformation, his ideas were indeed not those of a normal person. But a moment later, Voldemort didn't care. No matter how much trouble this plan would cause, he just wanted the Philosopher's Stone.
Just then, there was a wave of movement outside the tent. Quirrell's expression changed slightly. The crimson hair and wriggling limbs all retreated under his cloak. The blood at the corners of his mouth and the flesh residue between his teeth were quickly cleaned up. Only then did he return to the tent from the cage. He closed the box tightly. Checking the source of the magical fluctuations, a moment later, there was impatience in his eyes. "An owl? Damn it! Which ignorant idiot wrote to me again, praising me as a hero?" he muttered. "Foolish people only know how to follow idols. They don't even know if their idols are human or ghosts. It's all garbage." Just as he was about to send the letter away, he suddenly froze. "Wait. This owl." He raised an eyebrow. He remembered where he had seen this exceptionally beautiful snowy owl. "Isn't this Harry Potter's owl? The one called Hedwig? Harry Potter actually wrote me a letter?"
With curiosity, he opened it. When he saw the content, even though he was no longer human, he couldn't help but be stunned for a moment. Voldemort, on the back of his head, could not see the letter and urged repeatedly, "Quirrell. What did Potter write you?"
A moment later, a strange sound came from Quirrell's mouth. "He told me he suspects that Char Sprout is the Dark Lord. He hopes I will protect Hogwarts and thwart the Dark Lord's plot."
Voldemort was also stunned for a moment. Then, in the tent, the dual laughter of Quirrell and Voldemort echoed, every sound filled with sarcasm and chilling coldness. Finally, when the laughter died down, Quirrell's voice was dark, his eyes filled with malice. "Since the Savior has requested so, then Master, when I return to Hogwarts and start the plan, please take good care of that little Char. You don't mind, do you?"
Voldemort, who had once admired Char, showed not even the slightest fluctuation at this time. Char had certainly shown "loyalty" to him, but so what? He only looked at value. Now that Quirrell had become a Quintaped, his value was undoubtedly much higher. Leaving Char to him was something that did not require hesitation at all. "As you wish. I only look at the results."
Hearing Voldemort's reply, the corner of Quirrell's mouth put on a sinister smile. "Char Sprout. You don't know yet what kind of horror you will face. Cherish the last days you have left."
At this time, in a small greenhouse, Char had no idea that Harry and his two companions had asked Quirrell for help, nor did he have any idea of Quirrell's plan. Or rather, even if he knew, what else could be changed? Strengthening himself was the fundamental thing. His eyes fell on the plants in the small greenhouse. After his magical perception was improved, his perception of the magic in the magical herbs became much more acute. Details that were previously unnoticed were now clearly visible. The next moment, his eyes fell on the mutant Devil's Snare that had been planted for a long time. Seeming to have noticed something, a flash of surprise appeared in his eyes. "Hmm?!"