At this moment, Professor Quirrell's office resembled a large-scale slaughterhouse.
Blood and chunks of flesh were splattered everywhere, staining everything near the desk a dark red.
Clearly, the Dark Lord couldn't be bothered to cast a Scourgify on this outcome.
Professor Quirrell was sprawled in the blood, gasping for breath as if on the verge of death, he struggled to get up, only to stumble and fall back into the pool of blood.
A rat's skull with its dark, empty eye sockets was facing him.
"Merlin's beard!"
Terrified, Quirrell scrambled back on all fours, only to feel his hands and feet submerged in a slurry of blood and minced meat.
Finally, he staggered up from the floor, struggled, and painstakingly made his way to a shelf by the wall, forcefully pulling open the wooden door at the bottom and taking out a huge glass jar from inside.
A narrow mouth, a slender neck, and a huge belly.
Through the engraved, frosted, translucent belly of the jar, one could vaguely see a thick, dark red liquid that looked very much like blood, still bubbling strangely as if it were boiling.
Panting, he gritted his teeth and pulled the stopper open with force, glug, glug, glug.
A short while later, Quirrell finally let out a sigh of relief.
He carefully placed the jar back in the cabinet.
Then he drew his wand and cast multiple Scourgify charms on the office that looked like a slaughterhouse.
tumbled back to the area behind his office and instantly collapsed into a large armchair, "I don't understand!"
Quirrell muttered, his voice growing louder, "I don't understand, Master, I really don't understand, I worked so hard to help you regain your strength, yet you waste it on controlling my body, and just to teach a child?"
Does he know how hard it has been for me?
That potion in the glass jar, brewed from the blood of magical creatures, every sip is my life savings!
The savings of more than half my life!
Earned penny by penny!
Not used for a great cause, not used for some grand conspiracy, but to play a teaching game?
I gave everything for you! My life! My being! My savings! Everything!
Just for you to fool around?
Quirrell deeply regretted going to Albania to find the Dark Lord, he had gained nothing, no glory, no power, nothing at all!
He even felt that the so-called Dark Lord was incredibly lame, like a third-rate villain from a fairy tale!
Quirrell began to doubt whether this investment of his was the right one.
Of course, he was constantly wavering, being bewitched, and even enslaved.
He could no longer back out.
But his savings really couldn't hold out any longer, if this continued, he would have to go to the dangerous Forbidden Forest next to Hogwarts Castle to find magical creatures and drink their blood!
A sharp voice came from the turban, "You don't understand, you don't understand!"
Hah, does he think I, Quirrell, truly don't understand, when I was teaching Muggle Studies, it's not like I hadn't heard that the Dark Lord had cursed the Defense Against the Dark Arts position because he couldn't become its professor.
He clearly only needed to return to Hogwarts, to his position teaching Muggle Studies.
Dumbledore appreciated him so much, he was about to promote him to a full professor.
His future was originally so bright!
But Voldemort's attitude was firm, he insisted on being the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he hesitated for a long time, and finally agreed to the Dark Lord's request.
After all, it was his own master's curse, it shouldn't affect him... right?
But!
But he had finally managed to find all sorts of ways to help his master regain his strength, only for it all to be squandered, just to satisfy his craving to be a professor?
No one knew the soul-tearing pain he felt when the Dark Lord used his body!
No one knew that just by the Dark Lord residing in his body, his mind was gradually becoming dull!
No, the Dark Lord didn't care at all, he only cared about his damn Defense Against the Dark Arts class!
Quirrell let out a strange laugh, the complex emotions within it hard to describe.
"Dumbledore wants us to set up protections for the chamber where the Philosopher's Stone is kept, I've already found a troll."
"Halloween, on Halloween I will release it, let it create a disturbance, Dumbledore will surely prioritize the students' safety, and then I'll go get my hands on the Philosopher's Stone!"
"As long as I get the Philosopher's Stone, I can resurrect my master, and everything will be different."
"Very good," the sharp voice said, "I will not forget your devotion to me, Quirinus Quirrell."
"That child, Anton, I can see he is very grateful to me, when necessary, you can call on him, he will be very useful."
Quirrell finally couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a low roar, "I really don't understand! Why this Anton, what use could he be!"
"Hehehe~" a sharp laugh echoed behind his ear.
"That is a delicious delicacy."
"If you succeed on Halloween, I will prepare this delicacy myself. But if you, in your foolishness, fail, yes, your stupidity makes it hard for me to have much hope, then I will need someone to help me process it."
Quirrell clenched his fists tightly, the Dark Lord's words were filled with humiliation, he had clearly given everything for his master! "What needs to be done, I'll do it! I'll do it!"
"Heh~" the faint laugh was full of contempt.
Quirrell suddenly let out a shrill, low roar, his body, slumped in the chair, abruptly stiffened and began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Obey, Quirrell, that is all I need you to do..."
The office plunged into darkness.
Boundless.
...
...
No matter what people go through, the sun will always rise as usual the next day.
Brilliant rays of light pierced through the clouds.
After a hearty breakfast, Anton felt full of energy for the day.
Aunt Ilsa, yes, that's the nosy old woman Lupin found.
She required Anton to write a letter home to Uncle Lupin every month, with no specific content requirements, saying that a young wizard is bound to have many growing pains, and that he should tell his guardian so Lupin could help him sort them out.
Now Anton was indeed a bit troubled, so he wrote a letter to Lupin.
The general meaning was: There's a teacher who is teaching me everything he knows and is very good to me, but he's an out-and-out bad guy, what should I do?
That day, as he was eating breakfast, Lupin's owl finally arrived.
Lupin expressed his confusion, writing a question, "Didn't you already kill him?"
Then he wrote a lot of good things about this new friend of his, the old wizard, asking Anton to be considerate of the feelings of this person who was already dead.
Telling them not to quarrel at Hogwarts like they did at home.
What the hell, be considerate.
Anton rolled his eyes, wrote a reply, and had the owl take it back.
—Not the previous one, I've run into another one now!
Sigh.
Why is his path to education always so rugged and bumpy.
Why?
This is too hard for me!
Too hard~~~