67: Voldemort’s Personal Disciple

Quirrell's mind has become delirious due to Voldemort's presence, so allowing him to come to class would risk exposure.

To stay at Hogwarts, Voldemort spent a significant amount of money.

Although he is currently only giving lectures, he has not used any magical powers.

However, for a remnant soul who struggled to speak even a few words, this was still a heavy burden.

Normally, when nothing is happening, Voldemort remains in a deep sleep to conserve energy.

Fortunately, Quirrell's small treasury was emptied by Voldemort in exchange for valuable materials, including Phoenix Tears given by Dumble.

This allowed Voldemort to regain some strength, so it shouldn't be a problem for him to survive this period of time.

"Defense is the foundation of everything."

Quirrell, or Voldemort, sets an example by putting effort and passion into his teachings. Since he is the one giving the lecture, he cannot afford to be careless.

If word gets around, wouldn't it mean losing the Dark Lord's reputation?

Staying true to Quirrell's character as much as possible, Voldemort presented a lot of genuine materials.

"Survival is the most important thing to consider when facing danger. Defense doesn't solely rely on using magic spells to counter the enemy's attacks.

"Evading, even escaping, is part of the defense."

"Mr. Lawrence..." Quirrell suddenly called Wayne's name and asked, "If a dark wizard confronts you, what would be the most appropriate course of action?"

Wayne calmly stood up and replied, "Analyze the opponent's intentions, assess the difference in strength, and if necessary, give it everything you've got in a fight."

Voldemort's eyes showed a flicker of admiration.

He hated Wayne because it was Wayne who had pushed him to the point where he had to risk being in the front office.

However, he would not deny someone's talent because of personal grudges.

Only by acknowledging the strength of one's enemies and defeating them can one demonstrate their extraordinary abilities.

Voldemort did the same.

He did not hesitate to acknowledge Potter's exceptional abilities, even going so far as to call him the Boy Who Lived.

Just to prove it.

He believed he could defeat the so-called chosen one and break free from the chains of fate.

Although he ultimately failed...

Because he did not know the extent of Wayne's abilities, from Voldemort's perspective, Wayne was nowhere near the level of a formidable opponent. However, this did not hinder his appreciation: of reason, talent, resources, and charm.

Everything was top-notch.

There was a trace of his former demeanor.

"That's correct, Mr. Lawrence." Quirrell asked Wayne to take his seat again. "Before engaging in a fight, it is crucial to understand why you are fighting..."

"To survive, to defeat the enemy, or..."

The corners of Voldemort's mouth lifted slightly but quickly vanished, and he stopped speaking.

Wayne looked at the young wizards who were completely captivated by what Voldemort had said and felt a strange mix of emotions.

But one thing is for sure, Dumbledore's vision is indeed poor.

With this level of teaching, my application for Defense Against the Dark Arts was rejected.

The things Voldemort talked about did not contain any specific magical knowledge, but they were extremely crucial. It can't be compared to simply learning a few magic spells.

The purpose is to develop students' basic understanding of Defense Against the Dark Arts and even the use of black magic.

Tall buildings rise from the ground, and with a strong mentality and spirit, whatever you do will be twice as effective with half the effort.

Just as Wayne taught Hermione, focused thinking and a clear purpose greatly improved the success rate of spell casting.

Very well said...

No wonder so many people followed Voldemort back then, even he listened.

"The definition of defense is clear: battle is inevitable, so we must gain the initiative and suppress the enemy."

"Having the initiative, you can advance or retreat. If you advance, you can subdue the enemy. If you retreat, you can protect yourself."

"If you want to suppress the enemy, you must rely not only on powerful magic but also on wisdom and experience. With one look or movement, you can observe the enemy's intentions and the magic he is preparing to release..."

The lecture abruptly stopped when the bell rang.

Voldemort drank water calmly and assigned homework.

"A two-foot treatise on how to stay calm in battle and judge the enemy's movements through movement. Class is over."

The little wizards woke up from a dream, and there was thunderous applause from the podium. Their excited shouts were enough to lift the ceiling and could be heard in classrooms far away.

"Marvelous!"

"Professor, is this your true level?"

Everyone was so happy that there was no magic spell in the whole class, but they learned something more precious than a magic spell.

The only thing that makes them sad is the two feet of paper. Are you sure this isn't killing them? That's 60 centimeters!

They walked out of the classroom still unfinished, and some students were already looking forward to the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Mr. Lawrence, please stay."

Wayne was walking among the crowd but was suddenly stopped.

The little badgers thought that because of the previous complaint, Quirrell was going to settle a score with Wayne, so they protected him.

This is a good lesson, but the little badgers will never abandon their friends.

"Don't get me wrong," Quirrell also guessed what they were thinking. "I just have something I want to talk to Lawrence about."

Wayne also advised, "It's okay, Professor Quirrell won't do anything to me."He said this, but the magic wand was already in his hand, hidden inside the wide-sleeved robe, and the dynamic perception was quietly activated.

When Voldemort dares to take action, he will react immediately.

Wayne would approach an old man with limited health cautiously, but he would never be afraid.

After hearing what Wayne said, everyone had no option but to leave.

Soon, only Wayne and Quirrell remained in the classroom.

"Lawrence, although I didn't teach specific spells in this class, it can be said to be somewhat satisfactory."

Quirrell's attitude was very gentle. "I wonder if you could provide me with some phoenix tears. My curse is not fully healed yet."

"Professor, how about teaching me the magic spell in the next class?" Wayne said, smiling.

Brat!

Sooner or later, I will kill you one day!

Voldemort cursed inwardly, but his expression remained unchanged as he pulled out a piece of paper.

"This is a magic I discovered while exploring the ruins. It's so powerful that even I haven't mastered it myself. Do you think it's enough?"

Wayne took the paper and examined it.

[Thundernet, made of lightning threads woven into a net, can not only effectively control the enemy but also has considerable lethality when touched.]

If you feel really sleepy, just use the pillow.

I drew Lord Thunder's decree last night, and now Voldemort has sent me a thunder spell.

Wayne smiled and stored the spell away.

"Thank you, Professor."

Before diving into learning it, Wayne decided to have Dumbledore inspect the spell first. He couldn't be too cautious, considering what tricks Voldemort might have up his sleeve.

While the spell seemed fine at first glance, Wayne couldn't be sure of the hidden traps Voldemort may have set. Though Voldemort's strength has diminished, his magical abilities still surpass Wayne's.

Grateful for the benefits, Wayne gave the tears.

Quirrell quickly took the tears, worried that Wayne might change his mind. But his expression soon changed.

"Aren't these tears from your phoenix?"

"No." Wayne happily replied, "My phoenix has been suffering from trachoma and can't shed tears."

"These are tears from a Fawkes. They both belong to the Phoenix family. There shouldn't be much difference, right?"

From the beginning, Wayne never intended to give Voldemort the fox's tears. He didn't want to make it too easy for tears to flow.

Damn it, why didn't you mention your phoenix's recent illness?

Voldemort gritted his teeth, almost unable to resist pulling out his wand and giving Wayne a hard time.

"Professor," Wayne observed, "you don't seem satisfied."

"Why don't you return the tears to me, and when Fox recovers, I'll collect some for you."

"No...no need." Voldemort took a deep breath. If he returned them now, who knows how long Wayne would postpone it? It might be too late for even the fox's tears to fall.

"Let's leave it like this for now. If your phoenix gets better, we can trade then. I have other high-level magic to offer."

Voldemort had no choice but to continue tempting Wayne, and he nodded in agreement.

Not in a hurry to leave, Wayne asked a few more questions.

How can I miss this opportunity to take full advantage while Voldemort is here?

Fifteen minutes later, with a sense of satisfaction, Wayne left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and headed to the auditorium to have some dinner.

As he sat down, words appeared on the plate out of thin air.

"Lawrence, would you mind joining a lonely old man for tea? I'll be waiting for you in the office after class."After Wayne read it twice, the handwriting slowly disappeared as if it had never been there. Looking up, Dumbledore, the guest of honor, winked mischievously at him. Wayne understood and nodded gently.

"I don't know what kind of medicine old Dumble sells, it's so mysterious," Wayne thought to himself. However, he agreed with Dumbledore anyway. Originally, he had planned to take Cho and Hermione to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to see the biting cabbage, but this time he had to postpone it for a while.

After eating and chatting with the two girls, they were envious of Wayne's special privilege of having afternoon tea with the principal. Only Wayne and no one else had experienced such an honor.

"You just think too highly of Dumbledore," Wayne smiled, trying to calm the girls down. "He is just a lively old man."

Cho rolled her eyes. After all, Dumbledore was a great wizard who appeared in various textbooks and historical records. He was considered the greatest white wizard of the century. How could anyone treat him casually?

In the afternoon, they had a Potions class. Snape, with a gloomy face, arranged the content of the lesson. Despite Gryffindor's score being cleared in the morning, Snape's anger had not completely subsided. Every time he saw Wayne, he couldn't help but think of what this kid had said to Dumbledore in the Headmaster's Office.

"The materials are placed in the wrong order, five points will be deducted from Hufflepuff!" Snape announced. Wayne nonchalantly mentioned something about Toad Bile and Puff Down switching places. He wished Snape would be more cruel and deduct hundreds of points from him, considering deductions as bonus points.

"Lawrence," Snape's voice addressed him. Only the two of them could hear. "You gave Fox tears to Quirrell?"

Wayne blinked innocently and replied, "Fox recently got trachoma, so I gave him Fawkes."

Snape couldn't help but burst into laughter. Hannah, who overheard this, was taken aback and looked at him in surprise.

"Now pay attention to what I'm doing, I'm setting up a crucible!" Snape said, suddenly changing his expression. "Lawrence, watch your bottle, five points from Hufflepuff!"

Snape's mood switched quickly as he scolded Wayne and then walked away to another part of the classroom. Hannah was speechless, and Wayne quickly comforted her before raising his middle finger at Snape's back.

After deducting 20 points, Wayne wasted no time and went straight to the eighth floor.

The principal's office.

"Lemon"

Before the command was finished, the gargoyle stone beast gave way to the passage:

"Go away quickly, go away quickly, I don't want to see you."

"I almost died from the letter two days ago!"

Wayne smiled, patted the gargoyle's head, and walked into the office.

A dessert tower had been placed on the desk, and the exquisite tea cups were steaming.

"Professor."

Wayne was not polite and sat directly opposite Dumbledore. He said hello, took a bite of the cheesecake, and drank a sip of black tea. It felt very comfortable.

Dumbledore's eyes were full of smiles as he watched Wayne enjoy the food.

He also enjoyed the feeling of getting along with students.

However, everyone seemed to respect him a little too much and acted reserved in his presence.

Only Wayne truly saw him as an ordinary old man.

After having a piece of cake and a cup of black tea, Wayne felt re-energized.

"Professor, why did you ask me to come?"

He knew in his heart that this was not just a simple afternoon tea.

"Oh, by the way." Wayne slapped his head and said belatedly: "Please excuse my forgetfulness. This morning, Professor Quirrell gave me a spell that I can't understand. Can you help me with it?"

"Shall I take a look?"

Wayne made up an excuse, as he didn't want Dumbledore to realize something was wrong with Quirrell.

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore straightened up and examined the spell recorded on the parchment.

About ten minutes later, he suddenly picked up his wand and chanted a spell.

Zhila!

A small thunder net appeared in mid-air and quickly dissipated.

Dumbledore then smiled and handed the parchment back to Wayne.

"There's nothing wrong with this spell."

"It's a good spell. Thunder spells are quite rare. Quirrell must have discovered it in some ruins."

"With your talent, you can learn it quickly."

Dumbledore proceeded to explain his understanding of the spell and shared some techniques with Wayne.

Wayne listened attentively, amazed by the amount of knowledge Dumbledore possessed. He quickly grasped many tricks and techniques in such a short time.

Wayne successfully cast the spell in no time.

To keep it as his secret weapon, he deliberately suppressed Lord Thunder's decree.

Even with this constraint, it was enough to impress Dumbledore.

"Mr. Lawrence, you are the most outstanding student I have ever seen, and perhaps the most outstanding student this school has ever had."

Dumbledore had used this statement to evaluate Voldemort before, but in Wayne's presence, Voldemort seemed overshadowed.

"Professor, you flatter me." Wayne shyly bowed his head. "At least compared to you, I am far behind."

When it came to white magic, Wayne was confident that his talent surpassed even Old Dumble's.

But when it came to black magic...The old man in front of him is not just a wizard skilled in white magic; he is equally proficient in black magic.

He is recognized as the master of dark magic by the first Dark Lord, Grindelwald.

After a business exchange, Wayne took advantage of Dumbledore's good mood to ask him many questions.

In the morning, Voldemort tutored me, and in the afternoon, Dumbledore provided some guidance.

With two teachers of such high caliber, Wayne absorbed their knowledge and experience like a hungry sponge.

After a thorough session, he remembered that Hermione and Cho were still waiting for him, so he steered the conversation back on track.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore talked about the reason he asked Wayne to come.

"You had given me some of Fox's feathers before, which were very different from Fawke's own."

"I'm not an expert on magical beasts, so I sent one to an old friend of mine."

"He has extensive research on magical animals and can be called the best."

"I received a reply from him today. He was equally surprised and asked me to deliver a letter to you."

Dumbledore placed the letter in front of Wayne after narrating the story.

Even without mentioning his name, Wayne could guess who the old friend was.

The Pokémon Master.

Nonsense!

An expert in magical animals, a legend from Hufflepuff Academy, and the man despised by the first Dark Lord.

Newt Scamander!