Chapter 51: Dark Magic After-School Retention
Ethan 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."
With that, Snape 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 a habitat 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, she wouldn't have any ulterior motives toward a student like him: "Sounds like Snape really likes you!"
"I hope so." Ethan had a bad feeling, and, combined with Snape's pitying look earlier, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened without his knowledge.
After dinner, Hermione said he could bring the salamander, and she had already set up a 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 was Ethan's interpretation. As for whether he was actually upset that his children had all left him, he didn't want to go down that road, as that would make him feel like a monster for separating a father from his children.
By the time this somewhat dreamlike weekend for Ethan 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 inwardly groaned, but had no choice but to stop.
This time, Quirrell said nothing and walked straight toward the stairs, merely glancing back to signal for him to follow.
"How is your study of the spells progressing, Jones?" Just like last time, a cup of tea and a plate of snacks awaited him.
After thinking for a moment, he decided to conceal his progress and discourage Voldemort from pursuing this further: "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 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 backtracked quickly.
"No, no need to say anything. Show me the spell." "Here? Isn't that a bit inappropriate?" Ethan didn't want to reveal his secrets.
Even though Quirrell stammered, his tone was firm. "You, you go ahead and cast the spell! And besides, aren't you inexperienced? Then what's there to be afraid of?"
Frustrated, Ethan reluctantly picked up his wand and, following Quirrell's instructions, cast a spell at the office fireplace.
He performed the other four spells as usual, but when it came to the Confringo spell, he hesitated, deciding to deliberately mess it up.
"Confringo!" He deliberately slurred the incantation, hoping he would fail.
But something unexpected happened.
Perhaps because he had practiced the spell so many times, even with a slight error, he still managed to produce an orange fireball the size of a marble. It fell into the fireplace and exploded, sending ash flying everywhere.
Ethan waved away the ash and coughed.
Quirrell also seemed somewhat incredulous that he had actually unleashed such powerful Dark Magic.
He cleared his throat twice before taking out his wand, gathering the ash into a ball, and tossing it back into the fireplace.
Before Quirrell could speak, Ethan started singing Quirrell's praises. "It must be thanks to your excellent teaching that I was able to perform so well and successfully cast this spell for the first time!"
Quirrell's face still had some ash on it that he hadn't cleaned off, contrasting 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!"
"It's all a coincidence, all a coincidence," Ethan said, his mournful expression not quite reaching his eyes.
His face was covered in ash, and when he wiped it with his hand, he ended up looking like a smudged cat.
"Don't underestimate yourself, Jones, you're a genius!" Quirrell's speech grew smooth again, perhaps because he was thinking about something else.
However, as he frowned, he started stuttering again.
"This is what I was preparing to give 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 don't need this." Ethan felt a chill run down his spine. He was genuinely afraid. Voldemort had prepared the other parts long ago. Did the man really have the ability to predict the future?
Quirrell grabbed the parchment and shoved it into Ethan's hand. "No, this is the simpler part. I'm just worried you won't be able to learn it."
"Oh? Then why did the professor give me the difficult parts first?"
Seeing Quirrell's expression shift, Ethan worried he might provoke the man's wrath, so he offered him an out.
"I understand. Are you trying to tell me I still have much to learn and shouldn't be too ambitious?"
"Exactly!" Quirrell said, breathing a silent sigh of relief. "Actually, I was merely undermining your confidence so you would accept my training obediently and become Voldemort's assistant."
However, this idea was shattered after the blazing inferno was unleashed.
Judging by Voldemort's excitement on the back of his head, he genuinely wanted to cultivate Ethan into a reliable subordinate rather than the pawn he had previously considered Ethan to be, useful only for obtaining the Philosopher's Stone or drawing attention when necessary.
"Study hard. You may come and ask me questions after class next week, or during your break."
"Okay, Professor, I'll be going now." Since Quirrell had dismissed him, he didn't dare linger a moment longer and quickly headed downstairs.
"Wait, wait, you forgot your things!" Quirrell called out when he noticed the manuscript he'd deliberately left on the sofa.
Ethan, who had just reached 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've done a fine job this time. Keep it up. Gradually draw him to our side. I'll train him into a master of Dark Magic! I want to show Dumbledore that I am the greatest teacher!"
"Yes, Master!" Quirrell bowed respectfully to Voldemort in the mirror.
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