Chapter 34: Conversation

The atmosphere in the room instantly became awkward and oppressive.

Professor Quirrell stared silently at the light orbs dancing in the sky, lost in thought.

Allen felt somewhat uncomfortable under this oppressive atmosphere; he was at a loss and dared not press his advantage to throw back the words Professor Quirrell had just thrown at him.

Finally, Allen couldn't hold back; he quietly changed the subject and explained: "Actually, I intended to use this on Malfoy's head; I just couldn't hold back just now!"

Seeing Allen give him an out, Professor Quirrell ended his stare and calmly went along with it: "Does S-B stand for SuperBoy? Why would you praise Malfoy?"

Allen was stunned by Professor Quirrell's words; he never expected that changing the linguistic system would allow S-B to be explained this way. He remembered a talent show from his past life called 'Happy Boys' whose English name was also SuperBoy, and suddenly a thousand complaints rose in his heart, yet he didn't know how to voice them.

Allen could only stammer: "Now that you mention it, that is indeed the case; let me think again about what to draw on Malfoy's head!"

With this topic as a distraction, the atmosphere in the room instantly eased considerably.

But Professor Quirrell seemed unable to save face; he returned to that seat in the shadows and hid his face in the darkness.

Allen spoke cautiously: "You just said..."

Professor Quirrell, hidden in the shadows, rudely interrupted Allen: "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" Allen asked blankly.

"How did you think of improving the Lumos spell that way?" Professor Quirrell asked without any courtesy.

This stumped Allen, but this question was not one he couldn't answer; he had a universal excuse: "A year ago, an extremely intense magical surge occurred within me, causing great damage to my head. Although I recovered completely after treatment, strange thoughts have been popping into my mind ever since."

Professor Quirrell was rendered speechless by Allen's bizarre excuse; could it really be that the mentally ill have broad ideas and the intellectually disabled have much joy?

Seeing Professor Quirrell fall silent, Allen began to want to continue the topic that had just been interrupted; he spoke cautiously: "You just said that as long as I..."

Professor Quirrell interrupted Allen again: "Why did the Sorting Ceremony take so long for you when school started?"

"The Sorting Hat said it couldn't see my thoughts; it seemed to say some spells were ineffective against me," Allen said honestly, truly feeling there was nothing worth hiding.

Professor Quirrell, hidden in the shadows, became even more annoyed; looking at Allen, he felt as though he had nowhere to bite. He felt he had transformed from hunter to prey, while the previous prey had stepped on his vital spot, making him very uncomfortable; now he was passive everywhere, what should he do?

Professor Quirrell felt somewhat regretful; he was also a bit angry and ashamed, wanting to end this awkward scene today quickly.

So he silently cast spells without a wand, casting the Imperius Curse and the Obliviate Curse on Allen, but it was like throwing mud into the sea; there was no feedback at all...

This made Professor Quirrell feel even worse...

This little wizard couldn't be beaten, couldn't be killed, couldn't be controlled; it made him feel like his own mind was sick... Professor Quirrell lamented in his mind.

At this moment, seeing Professor Quirrell silent again, Allen asked cautiously once more: "You just said you knew I improved..."

Professor Quirrell, as expected, interrupted Allen again; he desperately drove away that sick thought in his mind that made him feel his mind was sick, and quickly asked Allen: "How did you improve this Lumos spell?"

Allen apologized to Professor Quirrell: "I cannot tell you this; I still have many debts to repay using this."

Professor Quirrell sneered: "Such a simple spell, I don't need you to say it; I can guess it!"

Having finished speaking, he drew out his wand,

and quickly began casting Lumos spells; various colored light orbs appeared rapidly at the tip of his wand. Some of these orbs were spinning, others flickering dimly and brightly, but none could fly out from the wand tip...

Allen watched as Professor Quirrell's face in the darkness was illuminated by the various light orbs, flickering dimly and brightly, and noticed his expression becoming increasingly gloomy.

Meanwhile, Allen was stunned by Professor Quirrell's casting speed; in the time it took him to cast one Lumos spell, Professor Quirrell could cast five or six. Professor Quirrell was indeed as highly professional as Allen had originally thought; his casting speed proved his strength was indeed very great.

After casting dozens of Lumos spells, Professor Quirrell finally stopped, and the place where he sat once again fell into darkness.

But Allen was unwilling to let Professor Quirrell off the hook; the strength Professor Quirrell had just displayed only strengthened his determination to cling to a big thigh and learn. So he spoke for the fourth time: "You just said that as long as I improved a spell, even a Lumos spell, you would impart all your knowledge to me without holding back, so please give me your guidance from now on!"

Having finished speaking, he threw himself into the spirit of bowing and performed a deep ninety-degree Japanese bow.

Professor Quirrell sighed deeply in the darkness, slowly walked to Allen's side, helped him up, and said calmly: "To gain such an excellent student today makes me very happy. I will certainly teach you all my knowledge; I hope you can use it in appropriate places."

Hearing this, Allen was overjoyed and kept assuring Professor Quirrell.

But Professor Quirrell sighed deeply again, his expression turning sorrowful, and Allen's heart rose with anxiety.

Professor Quirrell said: "Today, master and disciple meeting so late is truly regrettable, but unfortunately I do not have much time left; I can only impart my knowledge to you as much as possible before my death!"

Allen was stunned again, thinking in his heart: What trick is this now? Although he had doubts in his heart, he had to accept Professor Quirrell's lead.

"Professor, what is going on?" Allen asked.

"A few months ago, I went to the Dark Forest in Albania and was accidentally ambushed by a magical creature, suffering severe injuries; now I am only maintained by some potions!" Professor Quirrell said slowly.

"Then I can help you report to Professor Dumbledore! He is the greatest wizard of this era; he surely has a way to cure you." Allen actively pushed the matter outward.

"No need; I have now found a cure, so there is no need to trouble Professor Dumbledore, but now I am just short of some magical materials, so I hope you can help keep an eye out for them." Professor Quirrell was unmoved.

I don't believe a single word of that! What 'not much time left' is surely something you made up! Allen cursed inwardly.

But at this point, Allen was not in a position to expose Professor Quirrell.

"Alright, I will help keep an eye out; I don't know which ones you need? I'll write them down quickly."

"The magical materials I need can only be found in the Forbidden Forest!"

"Ah? Then I have no way; Professor Dumbledore already said at the start of school that students are not allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest."

"No, you have a way; didn't the school provide you with a work-study job?"

"Yes, it's been so long, and I still haven't heard anything!"

"Professor McGonagall has already confirmed your job is to help the gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, deal with some matters in the Forbidden Forest, and Professor Dumbledore has already approved it!"

"Ah? Ah!"