anwhile, in the headmaster's office.
Quirrell sat on the sofa, shouting hoarsely at Dumbledore behind the desk.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, every word I say is true!" Quirrell's injuries had completely healed by now, thanks to the reliable dical system in the wizarding world, leaving no trace of his previous misery.
"Did he say, You-Know-Who," at the ntion of the na, Quirrell shivered all over, as if in great fear, "Did he say, I'm You-Know-Who's servant."
"But think about it, You-Know-Who, why would he want a weak, incompetent servant who reeks of garlic? He is... You-Know-Who, after all."
Dumbledore hadn't been paying much attention to Quirrell's words until he heard the last sentence.
He thought of Tom, that child, who always disguised himself as kind and friendly at school, but his inherent disdain and contempt were too intense to ignore.
Soone as arrogant as him would indeed not think much of Quirrell.
A quick look at " will leave you more fulfilled.
"Headmaster, think about it, ever since that child ca to Hogwarts, hasn't the place been plagued with disasters?" Quirrell noticed Dumbledore was contemplating and quickly leaned closer, sitting on the stool in front of the desk, continuing, "Think about it. Such talent, and in Slytherin, it really doesn't seem like..."
Quirrell didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to, because Dumbledore's eyes had already told him that he had achieved his goal.
A hint of hesitation flashed in Dumbledore's eyes.
-----------------
"Professor Little William~" Draco called out playfully, hooking his arm around Hoare's shoulder as they walked out.
"Can you give us a hint about the content of the headmaster's upcoming exam?" Blaise whispered.
Draco and Blaise squeezed in on either side of Hoare.
"The content of the exam—" Hoare suddenly said loudly, causing Draco and Blaise to quickly cover his mouth in a panic.
"Hey, hey, hey, Henry, keep it down, if soone hears us, we're done for!" Blaise was pushed away as Hoare turned his head.
"Just tell directly, you idiot!" Draco's hair gel was coming undone.
The three of them were playfully tussling in the corridor, and the younger students passing by greeted Hoare enthusiastically, making him quite the popular figure.
"You're way more popular than that Potter from Gryffindor," Draco said with schadenfreude, having taken a liking to watching Harry's troubles since their first day.
Hoare shrugged indifferently; fa didn't matter to him. Once the Squib potion was successful, he could have as much fa as he wanted.
A little school fa wasn't enough to make him proud.
"By the way, Henry, I heard a third-year girl confessed to you!" Blaise was excited, after all, it was a third-year girl.
"She just thought it was fun," Hoare explained.
It did happen, but Hoare turned her down. He had no ti for romance now, and it definitely wasn't because he saw a look of doting affection in the girl's eyes.
Just thinking about it...
Hoare couldn't help but shiver, that kind of look reminded him of Molly, and he wondered how they were doing.
Because sending letters via owl would reveal his location, Hoare had to use the excuse that his Muggle school, London First Junior School, didn't allow students to make phone calls, to avoid writing to Molly and Arthur.
"Henry William." Professor McGonagall appeared at the end of the corridor, approaching quickly. "Headmaster Dumbledore wants to see you."
Draco and Blaise released him with knowing smiles.
Hoare understood their childish mindset, thinking it was an honor for a teacher to give you tasks. He shook his head.
Little did they know how exhausting the job was.
Charging 200 Galleons per class was too little, no wonder Dumbledore agreed so readily.
Since he beca an assistant, Professor Snape initially still taught classes, but after realizing Hoare could handle it, and his teaching thods were more accessible to younger students, Snape, his dear headmaster and Potions professor, simply left the work to him, even letting Hoare clock in for him.
Thinking of this period, Hoare couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, Henry William is here." Professor McGonagall led Hoare into the headmaster's office.
Inside, not only was Headmaster Dumbledore present, but Headmaster Snape was also there, and soone was sitting in a chair, their back to him, so Hoare couldn't see who it was.
Hoare frowned, wondering what was going on.
Both of their expressions seed sowhat serious.
As Hoare approached Dumbledore's desk, he finally saw clearly who was sitting in the chair.
Quirinus Quirrell.
Hoare's heart skipped a beat, sensing sothing bad was happening.
He looked at Dumbledore.
At this mont, the sun was setting, and the light shone in from behind Dumbledore, completely hiding him in the shadows, making it impossible for Hoare to see his expression.
Hoare then turned to look at Snape.
Snape's eyes were vacant and dazed, one hand tightly gripping the other arm.
This was—Occluncy.
Hoare was surprised, wondering what had happened that even in the safety of Dumbledore's office, the professor was using Occluncy.
And the place he was covering—Hoare vaguely rembered, in the original story, that was where the Dark Mark was.
The Dark Mark was the symbol of Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters. Besides being used to punish, it also had communication and tracking functions, allowing one to notify the other of their location promptly.
Thinking of this, Hoare suddenly realized, isn't this just like a magical pager!
Could Voldemort really distinguish whose mark was calling him?
A ntal image flashed in Hoare's mind.
Voldemort waking up every day amidst a cacophony of ringing, surrounded by countless ringing phones, so even just greeting him good morning.
Hoare stifled a laugh, trying to maintain a serious expression as he looked at Snape.
"What have you noticed, Henry?" Dumbledore's voice ca from the shadows, sounding both like and unlike his usual self.
Hoare hesitated, "The professor's arm is injured?"
Quirrell jumped up imdiately, "Only You-Know-Who would know where everyone's mark is! He must be, he must be."
"He's back! He's back!" Quirrell repeated frantically, trembling as he spoke, eventually hiding under Dumbledore's desk.
Hoare, not a real child, naturally understood Quirrell's implication.
He couldn't help but laugh in anger.
"Are you questioning my identity?" His tone was very unfriendly.
In his previous life, he had no ill feelings towards Voldemort, even sowhat admiring him after watching various videos and essays.
Until he beca a Weasley.
The Weasley family was always at the forefront in the fight against Voldemort!
Even his family mber Fred had died!
These reasons were enough for him to be at odds with the man with a snake face!
And now, they were questioning his identity.
Dumbledore erged from the shadows, his blue eyes filled with scrutiny, even though his words were apologetic, it was still very annoying.
"I'm very sorry, my child, Professor Quirrell has suffered too much and his mind has collapsed."
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