Quirrell began the lesson with a pointed question. "Wyzett, are you familiar with so-called 'counter-curses'?"
"Counter-curses?" Wyzett thought back to his reading. "There's a General Counter-Curse in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two."
He remembered Professor McGonagall using that very spell not long ago to dispel the effects of an Engorgement Charm—the memory was still vivid.
Quirrell gave an approving smile. "That's right! The General Counter-Curse is a classic example, theoretically capable of undoing any spell found in The Standard Book of Spells."
"It's called 'General' for a reason—it's extremely versatile," he explained. "The more thoroughly you master the spells in the book, the more effectively you can counter them."
"The General Counter-Curse is like a master key—it can always open the lock. But to counteract the widespread use of this spell, wizards developed compound magic."
"They crafted more intricate 'locks' by combining and linking different spells together. That's the foundational concept behind compound magic."
"Ah, I get it!" Wyzett's eyes lit up. "It's like drawing—when you combine different shapes, you end up with far more complex patterns."
"An excellent analogy!" Quirrell praised him. "Now that you've grasped the basics, it's time to formally begin our study of the Wasting Curse."
He flicked his wand, summoning a quill and a writing board. As he outlined the principles of the Wasting Curse, the quill moved on its own, neatly transcribing the key points onto the board.
As a compound spell, the Wasting Curse wove together a variety of hexes and jinxes.
By chaining these dark spells and poisons, it became a curse of terrifying potency—a perfect example of quantity transforming into quality.
As the lesson progressed, Wyzett realized that Quirrell was far more formidable than he appeared. His theoretical foundation was rock-solid; even the most arcane concepts were explained in simple, accessible terms.
It was clear that whatever had happened to him over the summer had left a deep mark, leading students to misjudge him.
Quirrell's voice grew even more hoarse. "Wyzett, don't you have another class this afternoon?"
"That's right," Wyzett nodded. "Transfiguration is up next."
"Then let's stop here for today," Quirrell said, a note of regret in his tone. "If you have the time, you might want to track down and read these books."
He flicked his fingers, and a slip of parchment, the ink still drying, floated over to Wyzett.
Wyzett read the titles aloud: "Medieval Witchcraft Guide, Mad Magic by Mad Wizards, The Compendium of Curses and Countercurses?"
"Needs a signature," Quirrell said, snatching the note back to scrawl his name. "The originals are all in the Restricted Section. Without a professor's signature, Madam Pince won't let you in."
He handed the slip back. "Just show this to Madam Pince—she'll know what to do."
"Professor Quirrell, thank you so much for giving up your lunch break for me!" Wyzett said sincerely, tucking the note away with care.
A flush of color crept into Quirrell's pale cheeks.
He waved his hands, voice rising with uncharacteristic energy. "I'm a professor! This is what I'm here for!"
He hesitated, then asked, almost shyly, "But… do you really think I'm a good teacher?"
"Of course I do!" Wyzett replied emphatically. "At my age, I'd never have had access to this material otherwise."
"Even if I did, I doubt I'd be able to understand it. Without your guidance—breaking things down step by step—I could never have grasped these concepts."
"Splendid!" Quirrell's smile was genuine, almost radiant. "Then let me give you a little assignment…"
"Summarize the hexes I taught you today, and combine them into a phrase or word that you think is appropriate and easy to pronounce."
Wyzett glanced at his notes, something clicking in his mind. "Is this how compound magic is constructed?"
Quirrell grinned even wider. "Exactly! That's the whole point of the exercise."
"Understood." Wyzett nodded. "I'll do my best."
"Good—" Quirrell started, but a sudden, stabbing pain shot through the back of his head. "Hiss!"
He spun around, hiding his twisted expression and struggling to keep his body from shaking.
Voldemort had awakened. He couldn't risk Wyzett discovering his secret.
Wyzett noticed the change immediately. "Professor Quirrell, are you alright?"
Quirrell waved him off, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "You… go on. Come back Saturday… Saturday at two."
"Alright, but please take care of yourself!" Wyzett placed a Chocolate Frog on the desk and, with a gentle sigh, added, "Professor, you really are a wonderful teacher. Keep it up!"
…
The door closed, and only Quirrell's ragged breathing filled the office.
Whether from pain or something like relief, tears streaked down his face.
He approached the mirror once more, ripping off the cloth that hid Voldemort's snake-like visage.
"Quirinus… it seems your attitude still needs adjusting," Voldemort sneered. "Crying? Was it the praise that moved you? Or the bit of chocolate?"
"Don't be so naïve! He's only grateful because I gave you the secrets of the Wasting Curse! Without me, you'd be nothing. Do you understand?"
A violent shudder ran through Quirrell.
He wiped away his tears, bowing his head. "Yes… Master! I understand."
"Good." Voldemort's voice oozed satisfaction. "How far have you gotten?"
"I introduced him to the basics of compound magic and showed him the necessary hexes and jinxes," Quirrell answered quickly.
A note of suspicion crept into Voldemort's tone. "Quirinus… that's not what I told you, is it? I told you to get him to master the Wasting Curse as quickly as possible!"
"Er…" Quirrell fought through the pain splitting his skull. "But if I do that… the curse will consume him!"
"You're worried about the Obscurial being corrupted by a curse?" Voldemort let out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Have you forgotten what an Obscurus is? He's a born Dark wizard!"
"The Obscurus is the ultimate curse! I'm excavating his potential—unleashing that one-in-a-million Obscurial gift!"
"Is that so?" Quirrell gasped, sweat soaking his robes as he knelt on the floor. "Master… you mean to cultivate him?"
Another wave of agony crashed over him, and Voldemort's contemptuous voice echoed in his ears. "Quirinus, I don't owe you an explanation! Just do your job!"
"Keep watching Harry Potter—find out what truly sets him apart. And as for the Obscurial, make sure he casts the Wasting Curse soon. I don't care if he masters it—just make him use it, understand?"
"And another thing… Find a way into that fourth-floor room. I want to know what's inside! You've only tried once since the start of term—your efficiency is abysmal!"
Quirrell shut his eyes tight against the pain, bowing low. "Yes… my Master!"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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