Chapter 35: Multiple Personalities

Allen wanted to refute Professor Quirrell, but he suddenly realized there was no reason for Quirrell to deceive him on such a matter.

He could only sigh and say, “The magical materials you need must be extremely rare—I doubt I have the ability to obtain them. Why not ask Hagrid directly?”

“I don’t need you to find the magical materials,” Professor Quirrell said kindly. “I only want you to tell me what you’ve seen during your work-study duties.”

Allen hesitated for a moment, feeling there was no real problem, and agreed to Professor Quirrell’s request.

The two finally reached an agreement.

Allen picked up his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook again and gently placed it before Quirrell.

Quirrell’s fingers tapped lightly on the textbook as he asked indifferently, “What do you most want to learn? Ancient Runes? Stronger offensive spells? Or these weak incantations in this book?”

Allen thought for a moment and replied, “The spells in this book are already difficult enough for me right now, so I’d like to study them first. I’m very interested in Ancient Runes, so I want to learn those too. Powerful offensive spells must be hard to master—and probably dangerous.”

Quirrell stared straight at Allen, sounding slightly disappointed. “Fine. I understand. But these powerful offensive spells only require pure, intense emotion to activate—they’re not hard to learn.”

Allen calmly said to Quirrell, “Professor, I’m only eleven. It’s better to learn step by step.”

Quirrell snorted dismissively, saying nothing in response.

He picked up Allen’s Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and, with his long, pale fingers, pointed to an Ancient Rune. “Then let’s begin! This Ancient Rune means ‘destination’!”

Allen quickly wrote it down and looked at Quirrell expectantly.

Quirrell then closed the textbook and handed it back to Allen.

Allen took the book dumbly, bewildered.

Quirrell explained, “You’ve been here over an hour already. If you stay any longer, Filch will catch you returning. And my body can’t sustain long conversations.”

Only then did Allen realize he’d been there over an hour. Though reluctant, he knew today’s session had to end.

He looked at Quirrell, whose energy seemed drained, and asked cautiously, “And next time…?”

“Next time, come to me every Saturday night,” Quirrell said, sounding even weaker.

Allen politely took his leave.

Just as Allen was about to open the door, Quirrell called out to him.

“Are you close friends with the famous Harry Potter?” Quirrell’s body looked frail, but his eyes fixed sharply on Allen.

Allen froze, unsure of Quirrell’s intent, and stammered, “U-um… sort of?”

Quirrell slowly leaned closer to Allen and whispered in a seductive tone, “Aren’t you curious how Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord?”

Allen stared blankly at Quirrell and replied cautiously, “I’ve been curious.”

Quirrell lightly patted Allen’s shoulder and continued to entice him, “That’s the true power worth pursuing. Perhaps we could study it together…”

Allen was stunned by the sudden invitation and didn’t know what to say.

But Quirrell didn’t seem to mind. He whispered, “Just joking. Don’t take it seriously.”

Then, as if he had become someone else, Quirrell stammered, “A-Allen, y-you… g-get b-back now!”

Allen was bewildered as he was ushered out the door.

He stood dazed in front of Quirrell’s office.

A cold wind blew past, and only then did Allen realize his back and head were drenched in sweat—the pressure from Quirrell had forced him to give his full attention.

Allen quickly pulled his robe tighter; at eleven, his small frame was prone to illness, then he headed toward Gryffindor Tower.

As he walked, he sank into thought…

The chilly night air cleared his slightly fevered mind.

He felt Quirrell had been different today—like a different person—but since he knew so little about Quirrell before, he couldn’t pinpoint what was off.

Quirrell’s behavior today felt like that of a villain! The thought suddenly struck Allen.

But then he remembered how Hermione and Ron had repeatedly said Hogwarts was the safest place in the world—even when Voldemort was at his peak, he never dared touch Hogwarts. If that’s true, the real threat must come from outside Hogwarts.

Thinking of this, Allen cursed himself for not knowing the plot.

And Quirrell was right under Dumbledore’s nose—Dumbledore was so powerful. If Quirrell were a villain, wouldn’t Dumbledore have noticed already? Allen shook his head, dismissing the idea that Quirrell was a villain.

If Quirrell wasn’t a villain, why did he want Allen to pay attention to the magical materials in the Forbidden Forest? Could it be for smuggling? That made some sense.

But it still didn’t explain Quirrell’s villainous behavior today.

Then what caused this behavior?

Suddenly, a flash of insight struck him: “Could Professor Quirrell have dissociative identity disorder?”

The moment the thought came, everything suddenly made sense.

He’d watched many films about dissociative identity in his past life, so he was familiar with the concept. Quirrell’s behavior matched it perfectly.

Allen believed Quirrell’s mind contained at least three personalities:

First, the confident, brilliant personality he’d shown before;

Second, the fragile, helpless, neurotic, stuttering personality that emerged after some terrifying event during the holidays, with a strong instinct for self-preservation;

Third, the hidden, ambitious personality deep within—ruthless in pursuit of power, and dangerously unpredictable.

Allen’s head throbbed thinking of it. He didn’t know how many personalities Quirrell had, but in the films he’d seen, patients often had seven or eight, sometimes as many as twenty-six.

So Quirrell must have more than three—there were certainly other hidden personalities.

Allen began to regret his agreement with Quirrell.

If he had to meet this mentally ill man every Saturday night, he’d always be afraid. Maybe he should pretend today never happened. Allen thought to himself.

But Quirrell had shown impressive knowledge and power today. And Allen needed to strengthen himself quickly—Quirrell was the best option available. Besides, he’d shown kindness and genuine appreciation for Allen’s talent. There was no better candidate at Hogwarts.

Allen struggled internally.

Then he thought of the powerful spells Quirrell mentioned. He couldn’t deny he was tempted.

“This is so hard to decide,” Allen sighed inwardly.

What tipped the balance was Quirrell’s knowledge of Ancient Runes.

This was exactly what Allen had longed for—the key to uncovering the world’s deepest mysteries. The more he could learn, the better.

If he could “improve” a few powerful spells, his debt wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Allen was torn.

And he had no way to explain the vast amount of precise, unknown Ancient Runes he’d recorded. Even though Quirrell had only seen a tiny fraction today, and had used the knowledge merely as bait to get Allen to help him, Quirrell wouldn’t suspect him now—but over time, he inevitably would.

He’d make up an excuse if questioned. If Quirrell still doubted him, he’d stop immediately. Allen resolved silently.

Then Allen suddenly remembered the meaning Quirrell had just taught him for that Ancient Rune.

He quickly flipped to the page, found the rune, and was thrilled to discover it could translate into the key of a cleaning spell with an empty value. His heart leapt.

Then he realized he was near the abandoned girls’ bathroom…

This time he hesitated—but couldn’t resist the temptation. He turned and strode toward it…

Girls’ bathroom! Your emperor has returned!