Chapter 32: Professor Quirrell

Allen and his friends went to the Great Hall for dinner, then once again left Harry and Ron behind, heading alone to Professor Quirrell's office.

At the door of Professor Quirrell's office, Allen calmed his somewhat excited feelings, adjusted his robes, and gently knocked a few times.

The door opened quickly; Professor Quirrell still wore his large purple turban, which appeared especially huge under the room's light.

Allen felt his small body completely shrouded in the shadow of Professor Quirrell's turban, feeling strangely uneasy for no reason.

But he pushed that feeling aside, remembering why he had come today; he bowed politely and said to Professor Quirrell, "Professor, I have some questions about magic I wish to ask you, hoping for your guidance!"

Professor Quirrell did not respond to Allen, nor did he step aside to let Allen enter; he simply stared straight at Allen. Allen also felt something was wrong and secretly observed Professor Quirrell.

But since Professor Quirrell was backlit, Allen could not see the expression on his face, only feeling that he was looking at him with some amusement.

"Professor?" Allen could not stand the oppressive atmosphere and spoke up to remind him.

Only then did Professor Quirrell step aside, saying in a somewhat low voice, "Come in, my boy!"

Allen looked at Professor Quirrell in surprise, feeling delighted: "Sure enough, my guess was correct; Professor Quirrell is indeed less socially anxious when fewer people are around! Now he speaks without stuttering at all."

Allen walked cheerfully into Professor Quirrell's office. Surprisingly, there was no smell of garlic at all, but rather a heavy scent of potions.

Allen even suspected he had entered Professor Snape's office, but fortunately the potion smell was not so unpleasant; at least it was far better than the smell of garlic.

The room was very dark, with only a single lamp lit in the corner.

After entering, Allen felt at a loss.

"Sit there!" Professor Quirrell pointed to a chair under the light and said to Allen in a commanding tone.

Allen was startled, but still obeyed Professor Quirrell's instruction, carefully sitting down on that chair.

Professor Quirrell then sat opposite Allen in a place where the light could not reach, shrouding himself in darkness, motionless.

The atmosphere once again fell into oppression.

Allen felt Professor Quirrell observing him constantly in the darkness; he felt his throat go dry and knew he must break the stalemate.

"Professor, I came to ask about the Petrification Spell and the Leg-Locker Curse; please instruct me." Allen took out his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and respectfully handed it to Professor Quirrell.

Professor Quirrell seemed to come to his senses then; he extended a hand into the light and took the textbook.

Allen felt that hand was slender and pale, with fingernails slightly blackened.

"Why do you want to learn these two spells?" Professor Quirrell's voice was very dull.

Allen suddenly realized he had become nervous without noticing; he swallowed hard, moistened his throat, and answered dryly:

"I am simply very interested in this area, so I wish to study it in my spare time."

"Hahaha!" Professor Quirrell let out a cold laugh.

"Speak your true reason! I do not like people who lie to me! If you wish to learn, you must have sincerity!" Professor Quirrell's voice suddenly became stern.

Allen was stuck; he felt Professor Quirrell was right, but the true reason could not be revealed. What should he do? Allen thought anxiously in his heart.

"If you do not wish to say, then you may return. This content is meant for next semester; I have no obligation to guide you now!" Professor Quirrell said unhurriedly.

Allen panicked, suddenly remembering Ron's words today, and blurted out, "Malfoy! It is because of Malfoy!"

"Malfoy!" Professor Quirrell repeated the name, seeming very familiar with that surname.

"Oh? Speak in detail!" Professor Quirrell seemed very interested in this topic, and even his tone had changed.

Allen's mind raced quickly; he knew he must give a satisfactory answer, or he would be driven out by Professor Quirrell, and then he could never hope to ask Professor Quirrell for guidance again.

So he drew upon his past-life experience in lying, controlled his expression, constantly recalled Malfoy's detestable acts in his mind, the despair and helplessness while struggling to survive in the air, and let these emotions fill his heart.

Indeed, under the surge of these emotions, Allen's expression became somewhat twisted and ferocious: "Malfoy insulted my parents and nearly killed me; I must teach him a good lesson!"

"Clap! Clap! Clap!" Professor Quirrell in the shadow slowly clapped his hands, and his voice carried a hint of excitement: "That is right! Hatred is the best motive to drive a person forward!"

Allen breathed a sigh of relief, but he dared not relax his face at all; he never expected the usually kind and funny Professor Quirrell to exert such pressure on him. Now he felt cold sweat on his back.

"I just want to find a chance to teach him a lesson!" Allen felt as if an Oscar-winning actor had possessed him; the more he acted, the smoother it became, the more carried away he got. So he redoubled his efforts and said to Professor Quirrell with hatred.

Only then did Professor Quirrell step out from the shadow, looking at Allen and praising, "Yes! That is it! I see in your eyes a thirst for power!"

Allen then realized how strange Professor Quirrell had become; he looked at Professor Quirrell trembling, not daring to breathe loudly.

Professor Quirrell flipped through Allen's Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook carelessly, then suddenly paused, as if seeing something unexpected; he quickly flipped through the entire book.

"Ancient Runes?" Professor Quirrell's voice became somewhat surprised and doubtful. "Why are there Ancient Runes on your textbook?"

"Uh... recently I tried to find a way to deal with Malfoy in the Ancient Runes. You know, he has two very strong henchmen! They are very hard to deal with." Allen quickly added; he felt he had completely immersed himself in the role, and the words he spoke were so convincing even he could not tell truth from falsehood.

"Hmph! The direction is good! But you are far too overconfident!" Professor Quirrell snorted coldly and evaluated without expression.

Professor Quirrell casually tossed Allen's Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook aside, suddenly bent low, and brought his head close to Allen's face; their noses almost touched...

Allen felt a strange scent; his body instinctively leaned back, then he was stunned by Professor Quirrell's gaze. Allen felt that those ordinary-looking eyes shimmered with terrifying light, greatly increasing his pressure.

"Do you not think using only the Petrification Spell and the Leg-Locker Curse is too cheap for Malfoy?" Professor Quirrell's voice became cold.

Allen felt his tone was icy and devoid of warmth...