Chapter 33: On Genius

The conversation in the office continued.

Allen didn’t know whether he was stunned by Professor Quirrell’s words or repelled by his tone—he just froze in place.

Professor Quirrell also froze, for he had just used Legilimency on Allen, but received no response at all, as if his magic had vanished into the sea; yet his expression remained unchanged, and he quickly tried several more times—with the same result.

Professor Quirrell looked at the antlers on Allen’s head today and seemed to understand something, but even without Legilimency, he believed he could handle Allen—he had seen too many such young wizards.

After a long silence, Allen finally raised his head and met Professor Quirrell’s eyes directly, whispering: “Are there any other ways to deal with Malfoy?”

Professor Quirrell smiled strangely: “There are many methods—ones that will make him suffer more, that will let you strike him down faster and more secretly, even inflict injuries he can never recover from—so he spends his entire life living in fear of you!”

Allen hesitated now, feeling the topic had veered too far off course; he spoke cautiously: “We’ve just had minor disagreements—is it really necessary to go this far?”

“Minor disagreements?” Professor Quirrell sneered. “I’ve heard about your situation—he nearly cost you your life! Is that a minor disagreement?”

Allen still hesitated.

“Kindness makes us weak, and weakness is the greatest enemy on our path to power. And I can give you even more—like many powerful spells, rare potion recipes—all of which will let you stand out among your peers and become the envy of everyone...” Professor Quirrell paced around Allen, his voice dripping with temptation.

Allen now clearly sensed something was off about Professor Quirrell. If he were an ordinary eleven-year-old wizard, he might have been swayed—but he possessed a mature soul, and he quickly sensed the anomaly: which normal teacher would guide their student like this?

But he had to pretend to be tempted—otherwise, if Professor Quirrell realized he was different from other eleven-year-olds, things would get messy. Allen continued to ponder, thinking about what to do next.

Allen’s hesitation was taken by Professor Quirrell as a sign of wavering will—he decided to press harder.

He waved his wand and summoned Allen’s Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook into his hand, pointing to the Ancient Runes on the page: “I can teach you Ancient Runes—knowledge few ever master! I’ve studied them for years and possess more Ancient Runes than the entire academic community!”

The final weight of Ancient Runes tipped Allen’s scales. Though he sensed something was wrong with Professor Quirrell, the man was a long-tenured teacher at Hogwarts—his behavior could merely be a difference in teaching philosophy.

Moreover, Ancient Runes were rare beyond measure, and their benefits for his future development were immense. Allen decided to stop hesitating.

“Can I learn them?” Allen quickly raised his head.

“Of course I can teach you!” Professor Quirrell responded instantly—he had waited for this moment. The fish had finally bitten.

Before Allen could even rejoice, Professor Quirrell changed his tone.

“But why should I teach you?” Professor Quirrell looked at Allen with a half-smile.

Allen was caught off guard by this unexpected twist—he never imagined such a turn. Just moments ago, the man had been gently coaxing him, and now he’d slammed on the brakes.

“If you were a once-in-a-generation genius, I’d impart all my knowledge to you—only such a person can inherit and properly use my wisdom. Ordinary fools who inherit my knowledge will only destroy themselves! But you clearly aren’t a genius.” Professor Quirrell regarded Allen with amusement, like a predator eyeing prey already pinned beneath its claw, savoring the chance to toy with it a little longer.

But Allen took it seriously—he knew he wasn’t a once-in-a-generation genius. His magical talent was plainly average; he learned spells only slightly faster than others, with no standout ability.

Yet Allen was irritated by Professor Quirrell’s words; his tone grew stiff as he asked: “Then what does a once-in-a-generation genius look like in your eyes?”

Professor Quirrell saw his “prey” begin to struggle—and found it even more entertaining.

He chuckled lightly: “In my eyes, there are two kinds of once-in-a-generation geniuses: one with extraordinary magical talent, able to master spells and magical knowledge rapidly; the other capable of doing what ordinary people cannot—like inventing or improving a spell. Which kind of genius are you?”

Professor Quirrell watched Allen with mockery, savoring his embarrassment. He felt another successful psychological strike—his prey’s expectations had dropped significantly. Now came the moment to offer a sweet reward, and the prey would bow in gratitude. Professor Quirrell thought coldly to himself—he relished manipulating minds.

But Allen’s eyes lit up at the words, though he hesitated—was it wise to reveal his Improved Lumos? The lure of Ancient Runes was simply too great.

The improved Lumos was merely a golden egg; Ancient Runes were the golden hen that laid golden eggs—the choice was obvious.

Moreover, the final two parameters of the Lumos spell were so counterintuitive, so unnatural, that even if Professor Quirrell saw them, he’d never guess how to cast it—and his Ministry bonus was still safe.

Allen made his decision. He looked Professor Quirrell squarely in the eye and confirmed: “You said the second kind of genius is anyone who improves any spell, correct?”

Professor Quirrell laughed. He mocked Allen’s serious expression, convinced this was merely the last desperate struggle of an eleven-year-old boy clinging to his pride. He decided to deliver the final blow—to crush him utterly.

“Yes! Even if you improve the simplest Lumos spell, you’re a genius—and I’ll impart all my knowledge to you. Go on! My little genius!” Professor Quirrell sneered mercilessly, his voice sharpening as he burst into loud, mocking laughter—as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the world.

“WOCAO!” Allen nearly lost his composure. “If I don’t take this bait, I’ll be struck by lightning!” He thought rapidly, still hesitating.

But his hesitation was interpreted by Professor Quirrell as defeat—he decided to stop playing with his prey.

“Help me with one thing, and I’ll teach you all this knowledge,” Professor Quirrell returned to his seductive tone, whispering softly into Allen’s ear.

But Allen heard the contempt in those words—and it solidified his resolve.

Allen drew his wand and cast the spell he knew best:

Allen drew his wand and uttered the spell he knew best:

“Lumos!”

Two red orbs appeared above Professor Quirrell’s head, darting rapidly through the air.

Professor Quirrell’s laughter died instantly. He looked up, startled, at the flickering orbs circling above him, squinting to discern the two letters formed by their paths.

After a long silence, he murmured doubtfully:

“S-B?”

「S-B?」