Snape was about to intervene, but Quirrell, instead of taking the chance to flee, charged forward again as if in a bloodthirsty frenzy.
Old Snape's lips tightened slightly. Sensing that Anton still had the strength to resist, he simply turned back to face Quirrell.
His expression grew serious, no longer the look of a cat toying with a mouse. The slight narrowing of his eyes made Quirrell tremble.
Shit, what was I thinking, rushing up here in the heat of the moment?!!
The atmosphere at that moment was particularly delicate.
Snape didn't want to deal a fatal blow. Quirrell was clearly connected to the Dark Lord in some way. He wanted to prevent the Dark Lord's resurrection, because Dumbledore had said that Voldemort, in his wraith state, would be unable to return if enough time passed.
But if he did return, killing Quirrell now would mean losing all room for maneuver.
Quirrell was even more reluctant to fight. Once the rush of blood subsided, he was now scared to death.
"Stop fighting!"
A young wizard's cry came from not far away.
"Stop fighting!"
"You are both my most beloved and respected teachers~~~~~"
"Why must I be here, to watch all of this unfold with my own eyes!"
"Stop fighting!"
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched slightly. He waved his wand, repelling the three-headed dog, and the great door closed.
Anton gasped for breath as if he had just survived a disaster, returning to his human form.
Then he was grabbed by Snape, who forced a large mouthful of potion down his throat. "Go back to your dormitory, and don't run around at a time like this!"
Anton looked at Snape, then at Quirrell, and blinked. "Okay."
He vanished from their sight in a flash.
...
...
Quick walk!
Jog!
Full-speed run!
He scrambled on all fours, rushing all the way to the dormitory.
Anton sat panting on the stairs outside the common room.
Oh my god~
That was so thrilling!
Anton's mind kept replaying the battle.
His research was a success!
The magical image of dragonhide from a dragon plus a werewolf successfully created a muscular werewolf comparable to a black bear.
Its defense was on par with a dragon's, and its strength had skyrocketed.
Nice!
Then there was the battle scene between the two professors.
The way they had just deflected each other's spells was clearly some kind of non-verbal spell, but its effect was superb.
And that incredibly powerful spell from Snape; even with countless layers of Shield Charms constantly being cast on him, he was still sent flying.
Thank goodness Professor Quirrell acted as a cushion, or the immense force would have definitely given him internal injuries.
Quirrell's spells were also very interesting: ropes, fireballs, iron rings, a fire lion... Those who knew would know he was from Ravenclaw; those who didn't might think he graduated from a vocational school for circus performers.
Anton had his eye on that fire lion. With a wave of the wand, a lion made of flames, standing one and a half meters tall on all fours, just appeared. It was exceptionally cool.
He'd ask Snape or Professor Flitwick about it another day.
As for Professor Quirrell...
Anton sighed. The Dark Lord's plan to steal the Philosopher's Stone had failed, and it had drawn the school's attention. The chances now seemed slim.
He could imagine how the furious Voldemort would torment Quirrell.
He could also imagine how much Quirrell would resent him.
Don't be fooled by Quirrell's stuttering appearance; this was an adult wizard of considerable skill, and a professor at that. He had too many ways to deal with him.
There was another point: Voldemort would probably be in no mood to teach anymore, and might even drop all pretense!
As a young wizard who had wandered the bottom rungs of the wizarding world for two years, he saw through this kind of human nature all too clearly.
"What a pity. He was a teacher who taught me so many advanced lessons."
Anton was wistful.
He let out a long sigh.
He decided to go tell Dumbledore that old Voldy was hiding on the back of Quirrell's head, and finish him off for good!
...
...
The next day.
"Professor Dumbledore, my teacher has become very strange!" Anton said with a serious face.
Dumbledore grabbed a Cockroach Cluster, tossed it into his mouth, and looked at Anton with a smile.
"One time when he was teaching me, his turban slipped, and I saw half a face on the back of his head!" Anton's expression was extremely grave. "I have reason to suspect that my teacher is possessed by some strange thing!"
Dumbledore grabbed another Cockroach Cluster, tossed it into his mouth, and ate it with relish.
Anton placed both hands on the desk, staring intently at Dumbledore. "My teacher! Professor Quirrell! He's in great danger! Professor Dumbledore, you have to save him!"
Dumbledore once again grabbed a Cockroach Cluster and tossed it into his mouth, even squinting his eyes as if savoring a delicacy from heaven.
What the hell!
What kind of reaction is this?!
Anton was about to go crazy.
He gesticulated excitedly. "I've looked into it. The professor went to Albania before. I've heard that Vold..."
Dumbledore waved a hand, cutting him off.
"He has placed a charm on his own name. Anyone who speaks it will be sensed. I imagine you would mind that."
Anton quickly covered his mouth.
Dumbledore pushed the plate over. "Relax, don't be so anxious. A little something sweet is best at a time like this."
"..."
The cockroaches in the plate crawled around. Some crawled to the edge of the plate, tumbled back to the bottom, their long antennae twitching, their countless little legs wiggling.
"You reminded me last time, and this indeed warrants my full attention." Dumbledore smiled and pointed at the plate. "So I used a magical detection spell, and they're all just candy."
"!!!"
What the hell do you mean, warrants your full attention!
When Anton heard the first half of the sentence, he was still wondering when he had ever reminded Dumbledore about Voldemort.
Ever since he had transmigrated, by playing dumb and relying on his silver tongue, he had been practically invincible wherever he went, be it with centuries-old goblins, Snape who walked the line between black and white, or the business elites of the French Muggle world.
However, things got a little problematic with Voldemort.
And with Dumbledore, it was completely ineffective.
He was completely numb.
Smiling my ass, I can't figure out old Dumbledore's thoughts at all. I'm screwed!
He resentfully grabbed a Cockroach Cluster, tossed it into his mouth. To be honest, he had always found this thing disgusting, but now he found old Dumbledore's inscrutable attitude even more disgusting, so the Cockroach Cluster seemed alright by comparison.
"Mmm!!!"
The Cockroach Cluster crawled in his mouth, but it wasn't itchy. Instead, a rich, sweet aroma swirled inside.
He tried taking a gentle bite...
It burst!
A rich chocolate aroma, the mellow taste of peanut butter, the tempting oiliness of cashews, all exploded in his mouth. The mix of several flavors and textures was surprisingly layered.
Anton raised an eyebrow, continued to chew, and his eyes lit up.
He hesitated slightly. "I think I can also taste a bit of a sweet and sour berry flavor?"
Dumbledore laughed heartily. "Yes, it's a mixed jam of raspberry and blueberry. What do you think? Didn't I say it was delicious?"
"It shertainly is!"
Anton licked the corner of his mouth. "Can I have another one?"
Old Dumbledore clapped his hands, and a drink appeared in front of each of them. "Honey lemon juice. Take a sip after you're done, it'll make your mouth feel exceptionally refreshed."
And so, on this Halloween afternoon, as the evening glow of the sunset dyed the sky red and a gentle breeze stirred the gauze curtains, one old and one young person earnestly savored their afternoon tea.