Teacher Voldemort

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Saturday afternoon

Hogwarts students had the weekend off from classes. Most senior students took the opportunity to visit Hogsmeade Village, either to spend money or enjoy themselves, while the younger students could only wander around the campus.

Dyroth had composed himself before heading to Quirrell's office.

"Mr. Grindelwald, you are very punctual," Voldemort's voice greeted Dyroth as soon as he stepped inside the door.

The door clicked shut behind him with a resounding boom.

In a respectful tone, Dyroth responded, "This is what I should do, teacher."

"Hahaha..."

Voldemort sounded pleased with Dyroth's deference, enjoying being called 'teacher.' With a simple wave of his hand, the notes that Dyroth had brought with him floated from his arms into Voldemort's hands.

As Voldemort flipped through the pages, the only sound in the room was the rustling of paper.

"Very good, Dyroth. It seems you've been studying diligently," Voldemort said, a note of appreciation in his voice.

The notes were filled with meticulous thoughts and observations, clear evidence of deep study. No teacher could dislike a hardworking, talented student.

"Do you have a different perspective now about dark magic?" Voldemort inquired.

Dyroth nodded. "Yes! I used to believe that evil intent defined dark magic. But through the notes you provided, I've come to realize that dark magic and white magic seem fundamentally different."

He continued, "Even advanced white magic doesn't appear to possess the same lethal force as dark magic."

Voldemort set the notes aside and replied calmly, "The fact that you noticed this proves you've started to grasp the origin of magic."

"Origin?" Dyroth asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Yes. Simply put, it's the original intention behind the creation of magic," Voldemort explained. "For example, the Killing Curse was designed to kill, while the Lumos charm was created to produce light."

"When you cast these spells, there is a difference in intention, in belief," Voldemort continued. "In some ways, dark magic isn't inherently more powerful than white magic, but its force is unmatched."

Though Voldemort was known as the Dark Lord, it didn't mean he lacked an understanding of white magic. Quite the opposite—his expertise in it rivaled that of anyone else.

"I understand, teacher. Thank you for your guidance," Dyroth said gratefully, before raising more questions that had accumulated during his studies.

"During my practice, I noticed that certain curses seem similar to jinxes," Dyroth explained. "But when I tried to combine them, I couldn't achieve the desired effect."

Voldemort waved his wand, summoning an owl onto the blank table in front of them. "Dyroth, you've shown remarkable attention to detail."

He continued, "Take the owl, for instance—something every young wizard is familiar with."

With another flick of his wand, the owl let out a sharp, piercing cry, only for Voldemort to silence it with a wave of his hand. The owl opened its beak to screech again, but no sound emerged.

"The owl's body is made up of various components—skin, bones, blood, organs," Voldemort began. "But if you take them apart…"

The owl suddenly disassembled into a grotesque array of individual parts.

Dyroth's gaze remained fixed on the bloody organs before him, his face betraying no emotion, only curiosity.

Voldemort's satisfaction grew. He gestured to the owl's separated organs. "A complete life is made up of these parts, but putting them together doesn't necessarily create life."

Dyroth's eyes brightened with understanding. "I see, teacher. A curse may be made up of smaller spells, but those spells need to be arranged in the right order and under the right conditions for the curse to function properly."

"Exactly," Voldemort confirmed.

For the rest of the afternoon, Dyroth asked more questions, all of which Voldemort answered. Despite his evil nature, Voldemort proved to be a remarkably thorough teacher. He possessed an extensive knowledge base and explained concepts clearly, often using relatable examples.

By the end of the day, Dyroth had gained a wealth of knowledge.

"Any further questions, Dyroth?" Voldemort asked, clearly pleased with his student's progress.

"No, teacher, not for now. Thank you for your guidance," Dyroth replied respectfully, his tone sincere.

"Do you recall what I asked you about last time?" Voldemort inquired.

"Yes," Dyroth responded. "There's a three-headed dog in the restricted area on the third floor, seemingly guarding something. I'm not yet sure what it is."

"Three-headed dog…" Voldemort murmured, lost in thought.

After a few moments, he shifted his focus. "And what of Harry Potter?"

"What part of his information do you want to know?"

"Everything," Voldemort demanded.

In his weakened state, Voldemort had limited access to outside information. He could sense that Harry might be important, but his knowledge of him was sparse.

Dyroth, without hesitation, began relaying everything he knew about Harry, from his abusive upbringing with the Dursleys to his ignorance of the magical world before entering Hogwarts. He avoided mentioning crucial plot points like Harry being a Horcrux or his mother's protective spell.

Voldemort listened intently, lost in thought once again.

"Well done. Here is your reward," Voldemort said after a long silence, flicking his wand. A fresh notebook floated into Dyroth's arms alongside the one he had been using.

"Continue gathering information on Harry Potter. There will be follow-up actions that require your cooperation," Voldemort instructed. "I'll contact you when the time comes."

"Understood, teacher," Dyroth replied.

…

As Dyroth left Quirrell's office, the sky had already darkened.

"Typical Britain," he muttered to himself. "It's not even four o'clock, and it's pitch-black outside."

He quickly returned to his dormitory, retrieved the Marauder's Map, and began his journey to Hogsmeade, carefully avoiding detection by classmates and professors.

But when Dyroth arrived in the village, he realized something important—Hogsmeade was much larger than he had anticipated.

He hadn't agreed on a specific meeting location with Vinda, and now he had no idea where to find her.

After searching for a while, Dyroth followed the crowd to what he thought was the Three Broomsticks bar. However, as he approached the entrance, he saw a huge Hog's head hanging from the door.

He entered Hog's Head Inn by mistake.

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