"Headmaster Dumbledore… y-you wanted to see me?" Quirrell entered the headmaster's office, sweat beading on his brow, nerves as taut as a wire.
"Quirinus, there's no need to look so anxious." Dumbledore greeted him warmly, offering a cup of steaming tea. "Are you feeling a bit overwhelmed lately?"
"N-no… no, I'm f-fine." Quirrell collapsed into the chair like a puppet with its strings cut, limbs rigid, every movement awkward.
Dumbledore sipped his tea, then frowned and dropped several sugar cubes into his cup. "The castle's been rather unsettled lately. I imagine you've noticed?"
"What?" Quirrell stiffened even further, as if turning to stone. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I… I don't… I don't know anything about that."
Dumbledore got straight to the point. "A friend of mine has asked me to safeguard a rather precious item for a time. I've arranged for it to be kept in the restricted area on the fourth floor."
"Oh… I-I see?" Quirrell tried to muster a smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Th-this is the first I've heard of it."
"Someone's after that item." Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. "Quirinus, I'd like your help."
"M-me? You want… my help?" Quirrell looked as if he might faint on the spot. "I-I'm honored… I think."
"Of course!" Dumbledore smiled gently. "It's because I trust you that I agreed to your transfer request. Before November, I'd like you to devise a protection. Can you manage that?"
Quirrell let out a brittle, almost hysterical laugh. "O-of course! No p-problem! I'll d-do my best!"
"Splendid! The old you might have refused me," Dumbledore added, with a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "By the way, did Wyzett visit you at lunchtime?"
"Yes! He's very talented, so I p-provided some reference books…" Quirrell blurted, flustered. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you're q-quite concerned about him?"
Dumbledore took a thoughtful sip of tea. "He's a troubled child. You were away from England this summer, so you may not know—he's an Obscurial."
"It was a close call. He was possessed by an Obscurus, and the Ministry nearly destroyed him. He recovered on his own, covered in wounds…"
"As the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, you should have plenty of experience with Dark Magic." He watched Quirrell closely. "Don't let Dark Magic claim him again. Will you?"
"I…" Quirrell's eyes darted, then settled with sudden resolve. "I will! I promise, I will!"
Dumbledore gave the faintest of smiles. "By Halloween, I look forward to your good news."
…
Back in his office, Quirrell relayed everything to Voldemort.
"So the defenses are as formidable as I suspected," Voldemort mused. "That wall is peculiar—magical probing won't work. You'll have to open the door yourself to confirm what's inside. Understood?"
"And since Dumbledore asked you for help, I expect Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick will be involved as well. You'll need to prepare even more thoroughly."
Quirrell ventured, "Master, I'm quite skilled at handling trolls. Could I use that as a protective measure?"
"I'll bring a troll into the castle on Halloween night. If there's an 'accident' while it's being secured, the troll escapes and chaos erupts."
"Not a bad idea." Voldemort actually sounded pleased. "Use the Obscurial as bait—provoke the Obscurus inside him…"
"Master!" Quirrell's tone turned unexpectedly firm. "Dumbledore just spoke to me about Wyzett. He cares about him deeply. I don't think we should use him as bait."
"Caution never hurts," Voldemort replied, unruffled. "I'll reward you with an ancient spell. Use it to create your 'accident.'"
He began to teach the magic, his voice seductive and insidious, until Quirrell collapsed in a faint.
In the darkness, a pair of eyes glowed with sinister red light. "Quirrell… do you really want to be a teacher who cares for his students? What a pity!"
"Well, the Obscurus's potential still needs to be cultivated." His voice dripped with mockery. "You're the one taking the risk, after all—why should I care?"
Study and practice seemed to devour all of Wyzett's time.
Before he knew it, the weekend arrived, and he made his way to Quirrell's office as promised.
The air was still thick with that metallic, reptilian stench; the chill hadn't lifted.
But there was one change—Quirrell no longer looked so deathly pale. He even wore a gentle smile.
In addition to the books Quirrell had suggested, Wyzett had gathered a few more, hoping to piece together the incantation for the Wasting Curse.
Quirrell glanced at the notes and raised his brows in surprise. "You came up with this incantation yourself? Have you tried casting it?"
Wyzett looked embarrassed. "I… haven't tried. It's a curse, after all—could be dangerous."
He might be open-minded about Dark Magic, but he understood its risks. He wasn't about to experiment recklessly.
"Let's give it a try, then." Quirrell beckoned toward a corner.
A linen cloth slipped from the iron cage, revealing a cluster of sleeping vipers—the source of that pungent smell.
One snake floated lazily toward them. Quirrell said softly, "Practice is the best way to master magic. Try your incantation on this one."
Wyzett drew his wand and whispered, "Entangled Illness!"
The snake jerked violently, writhing as mucus and scales sloughed off its body.
Quirrell nodded, smiling. "You've got the right idea. Both the Molting Hex and the Festering Hex worked."
Wyzett looked a little disappointed. "Severe diarrhea, unbreakable fever, skin ulceration—of the three, I only managed the last."
"Don't sell yourself short." Quirrell chuckled. "Those are the effects of a true curse!"
"To get this far shows real talent. In fact, I'd be more wary of facing a new spell like yours than the old standards."
Wyzett caught on instantly. "Because it's new, it's harder to counter?"
"Exactly!" Quirrell beamed. "As long as you don't run into an Auror—or someone even more powerful. Since your spell's based on the Wasting Curse, it's still relatively easy to break…"
He reached out and gently grasped the snake's head, murmuring under his breath. The snake stilled, its body returning to normal.
"First, let's learn the incantation for the Wasting Curse—Mortem Morbos. And then, let's work on your pronunciation…"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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