Chapter 73: Awake

Allen slowly lowered his wand, feeling as if he had just awoken from a long dream.

The final “teaching tool” shattered his psychological limits, jolting him back to clarity.

After casting Crucio, he felt an addictive sensation surge through him—immediately raising his alarm. In his past life, his safe country’s anti-drug propaganda had been everywhere, deeply ingrained in his mind.

It was this sliver of vigilance, coupled with memories of his past life’s propaganda, that finally freed him from Quirrell’s hypnosis.

Yes, Allen felt his previous state was exactly like the hypnosis described in his past life.

He suddenly realized Crucio was like a drug among spells—each casting fed the caster a faint thrill, driving them to cast again to amplify that thrill, and as the pleasure grew, so too did their craving for cruelty.

When the desire for cruelty filled his heart completely, would I still be myself? Allen thought, trembling with dread.

But he dared not look at Quirrell. This time, he fully recognized Quirrell’s oddness—Quirrell’s study of Crucio was far too deep. No ordinary person could achieve this. Even if Quirrell had once been a famed prodigy, he still couldn’t have done it.

Crucio’s four levels were simply too terrifying. How many living beings must the researcher have subjected to how many Crucio casts to uncover these four levels, each one building upon the last, interlocking perfectly?

Allen had actually cast Crucio, so he understood its power—it was the strongest spell he had ever learned. He had previously studied what spells were taught from first to seventh year at Hogwarts, and from their descriptions, none came close to Crucio’s might.

Yet such a powerful spell should have been difficult to learn, requiring extensive practice to master—but having experienced the rapid surge in Crucio’s potency under Quirrell’s guidance, Allen now knew: if he followed Quirrell’s method, he could fully master Crucio in fewer than twenty casts, unlocking its maximum power.

This made Allen fear Quirrell even more. He understood how terrifying it was to refine a spell to such depths and discover a shortcut to mastery. He had every reason to believe someone who fully mastered Crucio was consumed by a craving for cruelty—his heart would be twisted, monstrous. How had he spent so long alone with such a person? Allen was filled with dread.

And this was a Dark Arts spell!

This spell once again shattered Allen’s understanding. He had previously learned two Dark Arts spells and thought little of them—but Crucio was utterly different. Even now, after regaining clarity, the craving for cruelty still lingered in his heart. That faint thrill still danced within him, teasing his mind, compelling him to amplify it.

Thinking of this, Allen felt a wave of relief: thank goodness he broke free in time—if he hadn’t, he would have sunk into that feeling forever.

Clearly, this spell could alter a person’s character and thoughts, dragging them down a dark path.

Combined with its effect, how evil must Crucio truly be?

Who could have refined such a vile and powerful spell to such an apex?

Voldemort!!!!!!

Only Voldemort!!!

The name instantly flashed in Allen’s mind. He recalled all the historical texts he had read about Voldemort—when he first read of Voldemort’s atrocities, he had always felt detached, as if watching from afar.

He had once thought Voldemort’s cruelty couldn’t compare to Hitler’s, and the murdered wizards couldn’t rival the suffering in the concentration camps.

But now, that mindset was gone—through Crucio alone, he glimpsed the full horror. The Dark Lord’s evil and brutality surpassed anything he had imagined, and his heart trembled slightly...

He suddenly understood why non-Muggle wizards reacted with such terror to the Dark Lord.

So Quirrell must have been sent by the Dark Lord—he was undoubtedly the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant, which explained why Voldemort had personally taught him Crucio. He was surely here for the Philosopher’s Stone!

Allen remembered what had happened after Quirrell had hypnotized him—and his scalp prickled with dread.

He recalled Quirrell’s hand patting his shoulder, whispering into his ear—and instantly, those two spots turned icy cold.

How dangerous was the wizarding world? I nearly lost myself, nearly been controlled! Allen thought in anguish, his back soaked in sweat.

“What’s wrong?” Quirrell’s voice suddenly came, tinged with irritation.

Allen jolted violently, feeling his heart seized in an instant.

His perception of Quirrell had undergone a complete reversal—all notions of “tech guy” demeanor or “social anxiety” vanished into thin air.

Faced with this simple question, normally quick-witted Allen lost his ability to speak. He could no longer face Quirrell as before. He felt a massive stone lodged in his throat—not only blocking his voice, but choking his breath. He felt himself beginning to suffocate.

Allen dared not look at Quirrell. He gripped his wand tightly, palms slick with sweat. The room fell into deathly silence—he felt each second stretch into an eternity.

Then, the bell from Hogwarts’ clock tower broke the silence—and saved Allen from the brink of collapse.

Instinct for survival drove Allen to quickly compose himself.

By the time the Hogwarts bell faded, Allen had raised his head, smiling at Quirrell.

“Huh? I was just distracted. What did you say, Professor?”

Allen forced himself to meet Quirrell’s gaze, holding his eyes steady while internally recalling his favorite teacher from his past life—the Director of the Strategic Deception Bureau—filling his heart with reverence and affection for the Director, then projecting it through his eyes—the same gaze he had always used toward Quirrell.

He also silently prayed that the Director, the God of Strategic Deception, would lend him his power to see him through this ordeal.

Quirrell regarded Allen calmly, his eyes filled with unreadable meaning. He looked at Allen, who seemed perfectly normal, then suddenly lowered his head until their noses nearly touched.

Then he whispered softly: “Let’s continue practicing.”