Translator's Note:
First, I would like to sincerely apologize for not uploading the chapters as scheduled, and second, for not informing you all beforehand about the delay.
I understand that many of you look forward to regular updates, and I take full responsibility for failing to et those expectations. I promise this will not happen again.
Moving forward, even if I cannot upload for a day, I will make sure to inform you all about any delays in advance.
Thank you for your patience and continued support.
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With a plan forming in his mind, Ciel started walking towards the Quidditch pitch. But just then, a stuttering voice rang out.
"C-Ciel. Are you also going to watch the Quidditch match? Wh-what a coincidence."
Ciel's hand tightened slightly on the strap of his bag. He looked at Quirrell erging from the shadows of the corridor. Quirrell was forcing a nervous smile. Ever since he had lost his composure in front of Ciel last ti, he still hadn't found a way to get past the three-headed dog. He had no choice. He had to resort to targeting this little badger.
"Do you want to watch the match together? I'm not b-bragging... when I was in school, I knew a lot about Quidditch."
Quirrell had a plan. As long as he got closer to Ciel, there would eventually be a ti when he could persuade him. He didn't believe that a young wizard could have much ability to distinguish right from wrong. Moreover, he was Ciel's professor; using this identity to persuade him had a natural advantage.
But the next mont, Quirrell's invitation was decisively rejected.
"Sorry, Professor," Ciel said politely. "I've already arranged to watch the match with my aunt. It's almost ti, so I'll be going now."
The smile on Quirrell's face stiffened. Watching Ciel's departing figure, he felt a surge of annoyance. Damn little badger. He doesn't know what's good for him!
anwhile, a cold light flickered in Ciel's eyes. This Quirrell was like a stubborn piece of gum stuck to his shoe. Was he ever going to give up? If this continued, whenever he went to the greenhouse or the Potions classroom at night, he would have to worry about being found by Quirrell.
Although he probably wouldn't dare to make a move within Hogwarts Castle, Ciel wouldn't risk his safety on Quirrell's rationality. This idiot had tried to kill Harry during a Quidditch match... it wouldn't be surprising if he did sothing equally foolish. Moreover, he had the dormant Voldemort on him. If the noseless monster woke up, with his perversely powerful Legilincy, there was no telling if he would peek into his secrets.
He had to find a way to make Quirrell quiet down for a while. But how?
A direct confrontation would be unwise. Although Quirrell was instantly defeated by Voldemort's soul fragnt in the original story, he could perform wandless, silent transfiguration. This level of magical strength was rare in the wizarding world.
As thoughts flickered in his mind, Ciel suddenly rembered his previous retaliation against Malfoy. If he rembered correctly, the strong sll of garlic on Quirrell was to cover up the putrid sll emanating from Voldemort's parasitic presence. Therefore, Quirrell had to use a lot of fresh garlic every day.
Thinking of this, an idea took shape in Ciel's mind.
"Got it!"
By eleven o'clock, the Quidditch pitch was almost full. It seed like the entire school had co. Ciel hurried in and found the seat Professor Sprout had saved for him.
Professor Sprout looked surprised. "Ciel, why are you so late? You almost missed the teams' entrance."
Ciel showed an apologetic expression. "On the way, I rembered a few pots of Goldfish Vines hadn't been watered. So I was delayed a bit."
Professor Sprout was both amused and exasperated. This was the opening match of the Quidditch season. How many people had sleepless nights, eagerly wanting to get to the stands early? Ciel had actually thought of watering Goldfish Vines just before the match started. This child...
Fortunately, just then, a loud cheer erupted, attracting everyone's attention. Both teams had entered the pitch. The Gryffindor and Slytherin teams wore their distinctive uniforms, the glances they exchanged seeming to want to crush each other. The stands erupted with cheers, and the intense sll of gunpowder imdiately filled the air.
At this ti, a strong sll of garlic also drifted through the stands. Quirrell, carrying a basket of garlic he'd found placed at his office door, hurried to his seat. After all, he was planning to cast a spell on Harry's broom later. A broom of the Nimbus 2000 level placed great emphasis on safety, with extrely powerful protective magic. For anyone other than the broom's owner, casting a spell on it was very difficult. Even Quirrell had to use his real skills.
And because he was possessed by Voldemort, when he cast spells with full force, the putrid sll would be particularly strong. At that ti, this basket of garlic would co in handy.
"It's just that today's garlic..." Quirrell thought with so confusion. He always felt that today's garlic was sohow strange.
But soon, with a whistle, the Quidditch match began. Quirrell's attention was diverted. His gaze was fixed on Harry.
As the match beca more intense and everyone was fully focused, Quirrell's lips began to move, a silent curse forming under his breath. His gaze remained fixed on Harry's broom. The power of dark magic imdiately began to invade the Nimbus 2000, causing it to gradually lose control and make Harry sway from side to side in the air.
At this ti, Snape in the stands frowned tightly. He also began to silently recite a curse. A counterforce of magic rushed into the broom, trying to stabilize it. The two magical forces collided in mid-air.
Quirrell showed surprise. Soone had actually noticed his secret actions? And was trying to stop him? But after a mont, he cald down. After being possessed by the Dark Lord, his dark magic skills had risen dramatically. As long as Dumbledore didn't intervene, he feared no one in the wizarding world.
At this ti, Snape's expression also beca solemn. This dark wizard cursing Harry had truly remarkable dark magic skills. Plus, attacking was always easier than defending. So all Snape could do was reduce the intensity of the dark magic, so Harry wouldn't be thrown off too quickly. He felt sowhat fortunate. If Ciel hadn't healed his leg and dispelled the magic from the three-headed dog, he probably could have done very little right now.
Then Snape increased the speed of his incantation, trying to launch a counterattack. This surprised Quirrell. But after a mont, his incantation speed also increased. He gradually suppressed Snape's long-range counterattack.
However, with this action, Quirrell himself could sll a strong, putrid odor emanating from the back of his head through his turban. No matter how arrogant he was, he didn't dare let such an anomaly continue. Dumbledore was still at the match. If discovered, he would surely be done for.
So Quirrell quickly grabbed a handful of garlic from the basket beside him. Master. Please bear with it for a mont.
Then Quirrell stuffed the garlic into his turban, near the back of his head. His heart relaxed. This way, the putrid sll could be covered up. When he unleashed his full power, Harry Potter would be thrown to his death in no ti!
But just as Quirrell was full of confidence and preparing to act again, a piercing pain suddenly ca from the back of his head. It felt as if sothing with sharp teeth had bitten his head fiercely.
Quirrell let out a painful scream. At the sa ti, an angry voice screeched in his mind.
"Quirrell? Did you put a Fanged Geranium on my face? Are you trying to commit regicide?!"
"Damn it, don't bite my nose!"
Hearing this voice, Quirrell was filled with terror. "What? Fanged Geranium?!"
Before he could react, suddenly, besides the sharp pain, there was also a painful and itchy sensation that made him want to scratch. It was as if dozens or hundreds of boils had appeared on the back of his head. And a pungent stench erupted from within his turban.
In Quirrell's mind, Voldemort's voice was almost frantic. "Giant Slothflower Juice? You put this on my face too? QUIRRELL!"
Quirrell suddenly felt a mortal threat. And at this mont, he thought at the fastest speed of his life about who would do such a thing to him. Fanged Geranium, Giant Slothflower Juice... the first person he thought of was Ciel, whom he had just encountered.
Could it be him?
But then, Quirrell shook his head vigorously. No, it couldn't be. A little badger wouldn't be capable of sothing so malicious. And this style of action...
"I know!" Quirrell gritted his teeth, his face contorted in pain and realization.
"Master, this was definitely not . I know who it was. The Weasley twins! They always like to play pranks on and have tried to hit you with stones several tis. It must be those damn twins!"
[Chapter Complete]
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