Chapter 71: Kinds of Anger

Professor Quirrell watched from behind Allen as the latter finally conceded, a faint smile curling his lips, his eyes filled with undefined meaning.

“You made a wise decision! You won’t regret learning this spell.” Professor Quirrell said in a low voice.

Then the formal instruction began.

“This spell is called Cruciatus. The incantation is short, the wand movement simple, ideal for rapid casting—but the most crucial element is emotional power.” Professor Quirrell began explaining the spell.

“What kind of emotional power?” Allen struggled to memorize every word; he could not take notes while studying Dark Arts under Quirrell—he had to rely solely on his memory.

“For the Cruciatus, the required emotion is a craving for cruelty!” Professor Quirrell slipped back into the shadows; Allen could only see his silhouette, not his expression.

“A craving—for cruelty?” Allen murmured, suddenly finding the requirement monstrous; no normal person would feel such an emotion.

“Exactly! It is precisely by channeling this emotion that the spell becomes so powerful!” Professor Quirrell continued to urge Allen.

“Professor, I think I’ll struggle to master the Cruciatus—I don’t possess that craving for cruelty.” Allen hesitated before speaking.

“Hehehe!” A dark chuckle emerged from the shadows. “That’s exactly why I’m your teacher—I’ll teach you the secret to mastering this spell.”

“First, practice the incantation and wand motion until you’ve perfected them. Then we’ll proceed.” Professor Quirrell said.

The incantation and wand motion of the Cruciatus were indeed simple; soon, Allen mastered them.

“Good! Now let’s begin the real practice! You go first!” Professor Quirrell remained hidden in the shadows.

“Alright!” Allen replied firmly, raising his wand toward the empty floor to cast the Cruciatus.

“No! My boy!” Professor Quirrell suddenly spoke from the shadows. “Casting Cruciatus on empty space has no training effect. Use it on this.”

A pale, slender hand extended from the shadows, pointing at the large spider on the table, which had just regained its composure.

Allen stared at the spider, his throat suddenly dry; he swallowed hard, a flicker of unease rising in him about what was to come...

He wasn’t sure if it was the spider’s grotesque appearance or the fate awaiting it that unsettled him.

“What are you waiting for, my boy?” Professor Quirrell began to urge him.

Allen hesitated, then decided to use the spider for practice—after all, it was hideous, and it had no vocal cords; he felt little psychological pressure.

He waved his wand at the spider and spoke the incantation: “Crucio!”

But the spider remained utterly still, its abdomen still pulsing—reminding Allen it was still alive, as if mocking the weakness of his spell.

“Hahaha!” A cheerful laugh rang from the shadows; Professor Quirrell had clearly anticipated this.

“I already told you—you must stir up your inner emotion, crave cruelty!” Professor Quirrell continued instructing Allen.

Allen closed his eyes, trying to summon the emotion Quirrell described, but after much effort, he found it futile.

He grew disheartened and told Quirrell: “Perhaps I simply lack the talent to cast this spell—I can’t generate that emotion.”

Professor Quirrell remained silent in the shadows.

Suddenly, an anomaly occurred—the spider, which had been still on the table, suddenly spat a stream of venom, aimed directly at Allen. Unprepared, Allen instinctively raised his arm to shield his face.

The venom splashed half his body. When he lowered his arm, he saw his robe was now blotched and corroded. He quickly stripped it off and cast a cleaning charm to salvage it—but it was too late; several large holes had already formed. The venom had not touched his skin.

Allen tried to repair the robe with a mending charm—but the corrosion had gone too deep; even the charm could not restore it.

Allen gazed at his ruined robe with sorrow. Though old, it was one of his few possessions—and now it was destroyed.

A fire of rage ignited within Allen. He glared furiously at the leisurely spider, and suddenly, a craving for cruelty stirred in his heart.

“Quick! While it’s hot!” Professor Quirrell suddenly spoke. “Cast Cruciatus!”

Allen instantly reacted. He waved his wand at the spider and spoke the incantation: “Crucio!”

This time, the spell worked—the spider curled in agony, then returned to normal... returned to normal...

Allen was confused. He had clearly felt the craving for cruelty—so why was the spell’s effect so weak?

Professor Quirrell seemed to sense his confusion and whispered: “You just used anger to fuel your craving for cruelty—the method was correct!”

“But anger comes in many forms. What you felt just now was righteous anger. Righteous anger cannot generate a strong craving for cruelty—it’s why your Cruciatus failed.”

“The spider destroyed your robe first. Your anger then was righteous anger.”

Allen listened, deep in thought.

“If there’s righteous anger, then there must also be evil anger, right?” Allen keenly sensed the hidden implication in Quirrell’s words.

“Yes! Evil anger fuels a far stronger craving for cruelty—and that’s precisely what you must learn today.” Professor Quirrell was pleased with Allen’s perceptiveness.

“Now, do as I say!” Professor Quirrell commanded from the shadows, his voice suddenly cold and sharp.

Allen felt a chill crawl up his spine; something felt wrong—but he had no time to think further...

“Close your eyes!” Professor Quirrell began guiding him. “Forget about your robe.”

“Imagine this disgusting spider crawling over your shoes, its fuzzy, sticky abdomen leaving vile stains on them; imagine it crawling across your bed at night, leaving thick, revolting webs; imagine it defecating in your drinking cup—the very cup you love most...”

Quirrell’s voice held a strange magic, making Allen automatically ignore the absurdities in his words and sink into the scenario he described. A fire of rage slowly kindled in his chest, growing fiercer and fiercer...

Finally, he snapped his eyes open. Without waiting for Quirrell’s cue, he fixed his slightly reddened gaze on the spider on the table, raised his wand, and spoke the incantation:

“Crucio!”