The next day.
In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
As Professor Quirrell stammered through his lecture, many young witches and wizards started to zone out. Some whispered to each other, others doodled in their notebooks—though it was clear they weren't taking notes.
Lucien, however, was deep in thought, reflecting on what he'd gleaned from reading Identifying Dark Magic the previous night. With his SS+ talent in Dark Magic, learning anything related to it came almost effortlessly. Even though the book only detailed the characteristics and identification methods of most dark spells, Lucien couldn't shake a strange feeling. The more he learned, the more it seemed like he could grasp the basics of certain dark spells—without ever being taught how to cast them. It was as if his intuition guided his magic, naturally channeling it in the right direction.
It was an odd sensation, like tasting a dish for the first time and instinctively knowing how it was cooked, even without a recipe.
Lucien considered his abilities across different magical disciplines. The higher his talent, the more dramatic the difference in his performance. For instance, with his A and A+ talents in Potions and Alchemy, he could quickly master what teachers or books taught him. But breaking beyond that knowledge—finding true innovation—was tough, like chasing a spark of inspiration that only time or luck could ignite.
But when it came to S-tier talents and above? That was a whole new world. His SS-tier magical power gave him an almost absurd amount of raw magic for his age, and it was still growing. As for his SSS-tier Transfiguration talent, Lucien sensed its true potential would shine once he delved into advanced techniques. Maybe Animagus transformations, or even the fleeting magical creature transformations he'd briefly experimented with…
Chimera transformation was already impressive enough. Fusing biological traits was sufficient to meet the requirements of his "debt." But it could be refined further. Lucien recalled his experiments from the night before, blending skeletal and muscular structures to create something new—not just stacking external features, but crafting an entirely novel, unnatural creature from the ground up.
Maybe he could even combine traits of living and non-living things. No matter how strong or unique a creature's physique, it couldn't match the potential of certain man-made constructs. The more Lucien experimented, the more he realized the genius of the Chimera Manual's author. He'd thought the ancient wizard's meticulous dissections of creatures were just to aid transformations involving living beings. But after diving deeper into fusion transformations, Lucien saw how invaluable those detailed biological notes were.
He couldn't help but wonder: what had that wizard created in the end?
Lucien's mind drifted to a line from the Chimera Manual:
It is beautiful, my creation, and it does not belong to this world!
Ding-a-ling-ling!
The bell rang, signaling the end of class.
The young witches and wizards eagerly packed up, thrilled to escape the dull Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Unlike usual, Professor Quirrell didn't rush out. Instead, he cast a subtle glance at Lucien.
Today, Quirrell thought, I'll start using that variant of the Imperius Curse to influence this reckless, peculiar boy.
He had a plan: lecture on theory, drag it out until the spell was complete, and refuse any requests for practical magic practice. Quirrell wasn't convinced a young wizard would dare confront him directly. Still, the memory of their last magical duel—the eerie, manic laughter—sent a shiver down his spine.
But yesterday's promise to his master, and the terrifying punishment for failure, pushed Quirrell to stick to the plan.
Back in his office, Quirrell had barely closed the door when a knock came.
He's here.
"Come in," Quirrell called.
In walked the boy with dark golden hair and deep green eyes. Quirrell forced a fake smile, eager to complete his task and eliminate this threat.
"Alright, today we'll cover…"
Lucien listened as Quirrell lectured on the techniques and applications of the Protego charm. This common shielding spell was essential in wizarding duels, where speed and timing were everything—a split second could make or break you.
But as Lucien listened, his brow furrowed. A low, raspy voice echoed in his mind.
Each syllable was strange, yet crystal clear. Oddly, it didn't feel alarming.
What is this? A spell?
Lucien's gaze flicked to Quirrell, who continued lecturing as if nothing was amiss. But Identifying Dark Magic had mentioned subtle curses that could be cast silently, without disrupting the caster's normal actions.
Silently?
Then why was the voice in his head so clear? If this was a dark curse, wasn't it a bit too obvious? Was Quirrell deliberately tipping him off?
Lucien shifted in his seat, slipping his left hand into his pocket to pull out a brass pocket watch. His right hand, hidden in his wide sleeve, gripped his wand.
Quirrell barely noticed, dismissing it as the boy fidgeting with a watch. Just a kid, after all, he thought smugly. Pretending to be studious, but already bored.
He continued his lecture, all while silently casting the variant Imperius Curse. Just one round of incantations so far—four more, and this week's influence would be set.
Lucien's mind raced. If the strange voice was a dark curse, it was likely one meant to control the mind or body. Unless Tom Riddle had given up on the Philosopher's Stone and wanted to expose himself in a direct showdown with Dumbledore, he wouldn't allow Quirrell to use harmful dark magic on him. That would instantly reveal their scheme.
A mind-control curse wouldn't take effect quickly or in a single cast. Powerful ones often left obvious side effects—enough for sharp-eyed professors like McGonagall to notice. If they followed the trail, Quirrell's cover would be blown.
Lucien's fingers brushed the watch's cover, ready to flick it open. If this was a subtle control curse, it likely required multiple casts to take hold. But during their last tutoring session, he hadn't heard this voice. Had Quirrell not used it then, or had he only recently learned this spell?
And why could Lucien hear it so clearly?
His SS+ Dark Magic talent clicked into place. It didn't just grant resistance to dark magic or reduce its backlash—it heightened his sensitivity to it. This wasn't just detection; it was like someone was demonstrating the spell to him, live. Unlike reading about dark magic in books without clear instructions, this was vivid, tangible.
Following his instincts, Lucien tried mimicking the strange syllables in his mind. His magic naturally flowed to his throat, creating a unique vibration.
Quirrell was nearing the end of his lecture, inwardly gleeful. He was about to complete the first round of the curse, and Lucien sat quietly, not asking to practice Protego as he'd feared. Suppressing a smirk, Quirrell prepared to start the next round.
But then, a faint, almost imperceptible voice echoed in his mind:
"heviods~yieyss~mowam…"
The sound was fuzzy, chaotic. Quirrell strained to hear it, a chill creeping up his spine. The more he listened, the more familiar it seemed…
It was the dark curse he'd been practicing for days!
Click!
A sharp sound snapped him back to reality. Lucien had flicked open his pocket watch, seemingly to check the time. But the boy's gaze was fixed on him, a faint, unsettling smile playing on his lips, his green eyes glinting with a cold, fathomless depth.
Lucien didn't speak.
Yet the voice in Quirrell's mind grew clearer, though still barely audible. And then, he heard it:
"Professor, are you trying to teach me this spell?"
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