Ethan Jones was in a daze when he left Snape's office.
He didn't expect Snape to agree so readily, without any of the back-and-forth he had imagined.
"Starting next Saturday, come to my office every Saturday to learn from me."
Snape threw him a sentence, snatched the jar from his hand, and pushed him out the door.
The process went so smoothly, beyond his wildest imagination, that he even began to suspect that Snape might be plotting something.
In the afternoon, he told Hermione about it, not only because he needed her to prepare the facilities for the Salamanders, but also because he wanted her to help him think of anything he might have overlooked.
Hermione thought he was overthinking things. As a professor at the school, he wouldn't have any ulterior motives towards a student like him: "It seems Snape really likes you!"
"I hope so." Ethan Jones had a bad feeling, and combined with Snape's pitying look earlier, he felt that something he didn't know might have happened to him.
After dinner, Hermione said he could bring the Salamander, and she had already set up the portable fire bottle in her dorm room.
After sending the last cub away, Little Black, now alone again, happily climbed around on the metal mesh, celebrating that he could once again have the flame all to himself.
Of course, this is Ethan Jones's interpretation. As for whether he was saddened that his children had all left him, he didn't want to think in that direction, as that would make him seem like a bad person who broke up the Black family.
By the time this somewhat dreamlike weekend for Ethan Jones was over, it was already mid-October.
After Tuesday's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Quirrell called him over again.
"Jones, wait a moment."
Hearing Quirrell's words, Ethan Jones inwardly groaned, but had no choice but to stop.
This time, Quirrell said nothing and walked straight toward the stairs, only giving him a look to follow.
"Jones's spell, how's your study going?" Just like last time, a cup of tea and a plate of snacks.
After thinking for a moment, he decided to conceal his progress and discourage Voldemort's further plans: "Professor, I am not very talented. I only have a slight understanding of one of the spells, and I have no clue about the others."
Unexpectedly, Quirrell's eyes lit up: "Good, good, you're perfect for it, perfect for learning Dark Magic!"
This made Ethan Jones uneasy. He didn't know if he had underestimated his talent or if Voldemort had him completely under his thumb, praising him no matter what he said.
"Professor, I only have a little bit of understanding, I don't know anything else." He quickly tried to make up for it.
"No, no need to say anything, show me the spell."
"Here? Isn't that a bit inappropriate?" Ethan Jones didn't want to reveal his secrets.
Although Quirrell stammered, his tone was firm: "You, you go ahead and cast the spell! And, besides, aren't you clueless? Then, what's there to be afraid of?"
Ethan Jones was frustrated. Reluctantly, he picked up his wand and, following Quirrell's instructions, cast a spell towards the fireplace in the office.
He performed the other four spells as he always had, but when it came to the Confringo (Blazing Flame) spell, he hesitated slightly and decided to make some mistakes.
"Confringo!" He deliberately disrupted the rhythm of his voice, hoping that he would fail to cast the spell.
But an accident happened.
Perhaps it was because he had practiced the spell so many times that even with a slight error in the spell, he still managed to release an orange fireball the size of a marble, which fell into the fireplace and exploded, sending ashes flying everywhere.
"Cough cough." Ethan Jones fanned the ashes in front of him with his hand and coughed.
Quirrell was also somewhat incredulous that he had actually unleashed this profound Dark Magic.
He coughed twice before taking out his wand, gathering the ashes into a ball, and throwing it back into the fireplace.
Before Quirrell could speak, Ethan Jones began to sing praises: "It must be because of the professor that I was able to perform exceptionally well and successfully cast this spell for the first time!"
Quirrell's face still had some ash that he hadn't cleaned off, which contrasted sharply with his bright white teeth.
"No, very good! Jones! I was waiting for you to come and ask me questions, but I never expected that you would actually learn this magic on your own!"
Ethan Jones said with a mournful face, "It's all a coincidence, all a coincidence."
His face was covered in ash, and when he wiped it with his hand, it turned into a smeared cat face.
"Don't underestimate yourself, Jones, you're a genius!" Quirrell's words became very fluent again, perhaps because he was thinking about something else.
However, as he frowned, he started stuttering again.
"This, this is what I prepared and will give to you later, but now, I'll give it to you now." He then took out a stack of parchment.
"Professor, I haven't learned the previous parts yet, so I won't need to do this." Ethan Jones felt a chill in his heart. He was genuinely afraid. Voldemort had prepared the other parts long ago. He really couldn't understand it. Did he have the ability to predict the future?
Quirrell grabbed the parchment and shoved it into his hand: "No, this, this is the simpler part, I'm just worried you won't be able to learn it."
"Hmm? Then why did the professor give me the difficult parts before?"
Seeing Quirrell's constantly changing expression, Ethan Jones worried that he would get angry and turn against him, so he made an excuse for him: "I understand. Is the professor trying to let me know that I still have a lot to learn and that I shouldn't be too ambitious?"
"You're right!" Quirrell said, but he secretly breathed a sigh of relief. "Actually, it was just to undermine your confidence so that you would be obediently trained by me and become Voldemort's assistant."
However, this idea was shattered after the blazing inferno was unleashed.
Judging from Voldemort's excited state on the back of his head, he genuinely wants to cultivate Ethan Jones into a reliable subordinate, rather than, as he previously thought, a pawn to provide some assistance in obtaining the Philosopher's Stone and to be used to attract attention when necessary.
"Study hard, and wait until after class next week, or during your break. If you have any questions, you can come and ask me."
"Okay, Professor, I'll be going now." Since Quirrell had already put things this way, he didn't dare linger for a moment and quickly went downstairs.
"Wait, wait, I forgot to take my things!" Quirrell called out to him again when he saw the manuscript that Quirrell had deliberately left on the sofa.
Ethan Jones, who had just reached the top of the stairs, had to turn back to pick up the manuscript: "I'm sorry, Professor, I was so overjoyed after casting the spell that I accidentally left this precious manuscript behind."
"Okay, take it with you. Don't lose it again."
"Okay, Professor." He scurried downstairs and ran off.
Quirrell closed the door, took off his turban, and revealed Voldemort's face on the back of his head.
He stood by the mirror, looking at his reflection and listening to his master's instructions.
"Very good, Quirrell, you did a great job this time. Keep doing this, gradually drawing him to our side. I'm going to train him into a master of Dark Magic! I want to show Dumbledore that I'm the best teacher!"
"Yes, Master!" Quirrell bowed respectfully to Voldemort in the mirror.