Chapter 66: The Doctrine of Voldemort

Allen was stunned by the question; his first thought was that Voldemort was a man without a nose, but he quickly realized Professor Quirrell wasn’t asking about that.

Is Professor Quirrell going to discuss magical history and politics with me? This is the first time he’s ever brought up such a topic! Allen thought to himself.

But Allen believed this was a good thing, because he had never brought back any useful information for Professor Quirrell, while the professor had been giving everything on his own.

Allen felt their relationship was unequal, and that would only damage it—and that was the last thing he wanted.

Today, Professor Quirrell had taken the initiative to talk about history and politics; Allen immediately sensed this was his chance to draw closer to him.

Moreover, before his transmigration, Allen had been a history enthusiast and an online political commentator, frequently arguing with others on the internet; after transmigration, to learn Ancient Runes and search for Nicolas Flamel, he had been forced to read many books on magical history, so he was anything but intimidated by this topic—he grew excited instead.

As someone who had been conditioned by the internet’s shock-style content, he knew that when discussing such topics, you had to strike first and seize the initiative.

After a brief pause, he spoke solemnly:

“I believe the Dark Lord is a man with grand ambitions but little talent, and a narrow-minded vision!”

The moment the words left his mouth, the room grew colder, an inexplicable pressure settled over him, his skin prickled with goosebumps, every hair stood on end, a sudden warning of danger pierced his mind—he felt as if a serpent had fixed him with a cold, piercing gaze...

The feeling came fast and vanished just as quickly; so fast he wondered if he’d imagined it.

Allen glanced at Professor Quirrell, puzzled, only to find him calmly flipping through his book, as if he hadn’t noticed any change in the room—this confirmed to Allen that he’d only imagined it.

Professor Quirrell noticed Allen staring and gave him a cold, dismissive glance. “Young as you are, your mouth is full of big words!”

Allen instantly bristled: “Professor, these are conclusions I’ve thought through deeply.”

Professor Quirrell found it amusing. “Then explain properly—how exactly is the Dark Lord grandiose yet incompetent, narrow-minded?”

Allen keenly sensed his words had sparked Quirrell’s interest, so he grew even more serious; as a 2021-era keyboard politician, he had indeed analyzed Voldemort’s deeds and political ideology in depth.

“Voldemort’s grandiosity and incompetence are most evident in his political methods,” Allen declared outright, naming the Dark Lord directly—he knew native wizards had an instinctive fear response to the name, and this would further capture Quirrell’s attention and make him take Allen’s words seriously.

Indeed, when he heard “Voldemort,” Professor Quirrell stiffened slightly, but quickly regained his composure.

“Interesting,” Quirrell said, closing his book and giving Allen another sidelong glance. “Go on.”

Seeing Quirrell’s dismissive expression, Allen silently resolved: Today, he would make Quirrell look at him differently.

“If we regard Voldemort’s attempt to seize supreme power in the magical world as a revolution, then his revolutionary platform is undoubtedly the most low-tier! He uses blood purity—a concept long discarded into the dustbin of history—as his platform, and expects to rule the magical world with it. This is doomed to fail!” Allen stated his first point calmly.

“Heh heh! An interesting idea!” Professor Quirrell sneered at Allen, offering no judgment, gesturing for him to continue.

“Blood purity may attract some pure-blood wizards, but such a backward-looking platform is bound to provoke widespread resentment,” Allen observed Quirrell’s expression carefully and continued softly. “Who are the enemies of the revolution? Who are its allies? This is the foremost question of any revolution. Blood purity harms the interests of the majority of wizards—those whose interests are damaged will become Voldemort’s enemies or remain neutral.”

“Thus, Voldemort’s enemies vastly outnumber his allies. Even if his personal power is unmatched, it cannot alter the imbalance of forces!”

“If that were all, Voldemort might not have failed so quickly—his personal combat ability remains unparalleled, and his enemies are still fragmented, lacking a unified political platform to rally against him.”

“But at this point, Voldemort made a grave mistake—he began instituting terror, killing and burning indiscriminately, trying to intimidate everyone with violence.”

“This drove many neutral wizards to join his opponents; under his oppressive rule, they suddenly realized a truth—money didn’t matter to them, blood purity didn’t matter, but the absence of Voldemort did! So they united to resist him.”

“Moreover, Voldemort’s followers are mostly pure-blood wizards with families and property, most of whom possess the weakness of petty bourgeoisie—they could never risk their lives fighting against non-pure-blood wizards driven to desperation, for the barefoot fear nothing from the shodded!”

“Thus, Voldemort’s defeat was inevitable from the start—even without Harry Potter, he would still have failed! Could such a Voldemort be called grandiose yet incompetent?”

Allen delivered this entire speech in one breath, giving his listener no chance to catch his breath—he knew the destructive power of these words in this isolated magical world.

Throughout his speech, Allen watched his audience’s expression, seeing it shift from dismissal to shock to solemnity—all within less than a minute.

Watching the usually stern Professor Quirrell undergo such a transformation, Allen felt deeply satisfied.

Ah! The life of a keyboard politician is simple, unadorned, and dull—!

When he finished, his throat was parched; he quickly picked up his cup and drank several sips.

After drinking, he noticed Professor Quirrell sat motionless like a statue, expression blank, eyes vacant.

He decided to wake the professor up.

“Professor! Professor! Are you all right?” Allen whispered.

Professor Quirrell snapped out of his thoughts, then fixed Allen with bloodshot eyes.

Allen felt uneasy under that stare, puzzled by the professor’s extreme reaction—it was just ordinary keyboard politics, after all.

“Who told you all this?” Professor Quirrell suddenly asked, his tone sharp with accusation.

Allen looked at him in confusion, replying as if it were obvious: “Who needs to tell me? I figured it out myself after reading a few books on magical history!”

Professor Quirrell studied Allen with wary, uncertain eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.

Allen, still basking in the joy of keyboard politics, paid little attention to the professor’s gaze.

Professor Quirrell fell silent again, retreating into his own thoughts.

Long moments passed before he spoke again: “Is the Dark Lord truly doomed to fail? Is there no way to save him?”

His voice was hoarse, as if he were asking himself.

But Allen failed to notice this—he assumed Quirrell was genuinely engaging him in debate.

He hadn’t expected such a question, but as a 2021-era keyboard politician, he’d debated countless “Monday morning quarterback” scenarios before; after a brief pause, inspiration struck, and he answered casually:

“Yes!”