After Lucien bid farewell and left the office, Quirrell's face paled instantly. Sweat poured off him as he collapsed to the floor with a thud.
"M-Master, why teach Lucien dark magic? W-Won't that risk exposing your plan?" he stammered.
To Quirrell's surprise, Voldemort didn't snap. Instead, his voice was cold and mocking. "Heh, the boy's got real talent. He sensed it and mastered the spell in such a short time—far better than a useless fool like you."
"But didn't you notice? He tried the curse without hesitation, no reluctance at all."
"And when I offered to teach him the true essence of the spell, how quickly he agreed. What do you think that means?"
Quirrell, head bowed, answered cautiously, "Forgive my stupidity, Master. I don't understand."
Voldemort snorted. "He's not just talented—he's ambitious!"
"Lucien craves deeper knowledge, more powerful magic."
"If he wants to learn, let him!"
After a pause, Voldemort added, "Weave dark magic into his Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. The more he learns, the better."
"Ha! As if Dumbledore would ever allow a student to dabble in dark magic."
"No need to control Lucien with a curse. Once he's hooked on the power of dark magic, do you think he'll run to the headmaster or his teachers to snitch?"
Voldemort's thoughts drifted to his own youth at Hogwarts, when Dumbledore watched him like a hawk, always suspicious.
Despite being the most brilliant, charismatic wizard with a loyal following, Voldemort was constantly stifled and targeted by Dumbledore.
If Lucien followed a similar path, he'd naturally drift away from Dumbledore.
What Voldemort didn't tell Quirrell was that Lucien reminded him of his younger self.
Not quite as exceptional, of course.
Lucien came from a Muggle family, after all.
But his talent, his hunger for power, his knack for masking his true nature…
Heh, an eagle pretending to be a sparrow, playing the part of a friendly companion.
These traits stirred something in Voldemort—a desire to mold Lucien into a follower.
He was confident that once Lucien tasted the allure of advanced dark magic, he'd see Voldemort's strength and bow to his authority.
---
In the headmaster's office, Lucien took a sip of tea, moistening his dry lips.
"Headmaster, about the spell Professor Quirrell taught me…" he began. "Is it… normal?"
After hearing Lucien recount his recent lesson with Quirrell, Dumbledore absently dropped another sugar cube into his tea.
Lucien's lips twitched as he glanced at Dumbledore's cup, now practically syrup.
Dumbledore sipped his tea but stayed silent.
The portraits of past headmasters on the walls, however, weren't so restrained. A chorus of voices erupted:
"Albus, the safety of Hogwarts—"
"Don't put this boy in danger—"
"I told you, it's obviously dark mag—"
"What's there to hesitate about? Just go kil—"
Dumbledore waved a hand, and the curtains snapped shut, muffling the portraits.
He sighed softly, his gaze on Lucien complex.
His original plan assumed Quirrell would maintain a facade of normalcy while secretly advancing his schemes.
But Lucien's involvement seemed to throw everything off—both Dumbledore's plans and Quirrell's, or rather, his master's.
Quirrell—or Voldemort—likely never expected Lucien to run straight to Dumbledore and report.
What could Dumbledore do? He could intervene and crush Voldemort's plan now.
But he couldn't truly defeat Voldemort. According to the prophecy, only Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, could do that.
So, Dumbledore's focus was on preparing Harry—guiding him through challenges, helping him grow, ensuring he'd be ready to face Voldemort.
Yet Lucien's account stirred an unease in Dumbledore.
"Lucien, you're… exceptionally gifted in many ways," he said slowly.
"You're also very clever. As for Professor Quirrell…"
Sensing Dumbledore's rare hesitation, Lucien understood.
Dumbledore wasn't going to deal with Quirrell directly. He was sticking to his plan to groom the Chosen One.
Tch, prophecies in this world.
To truly kill Voldemort, the Horcruxes had to be destroyed first.
There were ways to do it—basilisk venom, the Sword of Gryffindor imbued with venom, Fiendfyre…
Find the Horcruxes, destroy them, then finish Voldemort.
But apparently, only Harry Potter, the prophesied child, could pull it off.
Prophecies, fate…
Lucien recalled Firenze's words: he'd alter many fates.
Was his unique presence causing changes beyond the prophecy?
"So, Headmaster, what do you want me to do?" Lucien asked bluntly.
Knowing Dumbledore, he'd maneuver people into his plans whether they liked it or not.
Even trying to break free could be twisted to serve his ends.
Newt Scamander was a prime example—running around for Dumbledore in his youth, thinking it was all his own idea.
Dumbledore sighed again at Lucien's directness. "You're very sharp. I'd like you to… continue studying with Professor Quirrell."
"And whatever Quirinius teaches you—spells, knowledge—I'd like you to share it with me, as you've done today."
Lucien shrugged. He'd planned to milk Quirrell—or rather, Tom—for magic and knowledge anyway.
And Dumbledore was essentially giving him the green light to learn dark magic.
He probably saw it as Lucien taking on a risky role.
Perfect. It wasn't the right time yet, but once Harry and the others learned about the Philosopher's Stone, Lucien could ask Dumbledore about it.
Getting the Stone early would be ideal.
He needed it to brew a potion to settle his debt with the Qilin.
Using the Stone wasn't going to be simple—it'd require plenty of experimentation.
This favor today would make Dumbledore more likely to agree when Lucien asked about the Stone later.
Lucien smiled at Dumbledore. "Alright, Headmaster. I'm happy to learn more magic and knowledge."