Hogwarts: Please, Just Graduate Already! Chapter 42

Ding! The major event "Power of Hufflepuff" has been configured. Based on the event's impact and outcome, the final reward will be determined through a comprehensive evaluation.

Ding! The chain quest "The Fallen Professor" has begun. The reward will be assessed according to Quirrell's level of misery.

Note: "Power of Hufflepuff" is the first major event to appear since the system upgrade. The final reward will receive a tenfold critical multiplier. Please continue working hard, host, and bring some color to this boring world~

Wayne had experienced the system's so-called major events before. Most of his previous points had been earned through these major events.

Not only were the point rewards generous, but there were also final event rewards.

Especially this time, the system had generously granted a tenfold multiplier. The reward was bound to be substantial.

Unfortunately, Wayne knew that Quirrell most likely wouldn't leave Hogwarts, which would probably reduce the reward somewhat. Still, one should be content with what one had.

The regretful thought flashed through Wayne's mind and quickly vanished. Even with a tenfold multiplier, he had already made a killing.

As for the second quest, it was practically a free gift as well. However, when it came to making Quirrell miserable, Wayne still had to put in some effort.

He glanced at the points on the panel.

The matter had not yet settled, and the event reward had not been generated, but in just one day, his points had already surged by more than two thousand.

Moreover, as could be predicted, the impact was still spreading. He could cash in on another wave tomorrow. Wayne decided to keep the points for now and spend them after everything had been settled.

Things indeed continued fermenting just as Wayne had expected. His actions had been like flipping some strange switch. In the morning, Gryffindor's seats were nearly empty, and Quirrell had not appeared in the Great Hall either.

It was said that he had taken sick leave.

After Snape confidently taught two Defense Against the Dark Arts classes that morning, he was summoned to the Headmaster's Office at noon. Professor McGonagall was summoned there as well.

Half an hour later, the two of them emerged, both wearing terrible expressions. Professor McGonagall took a small bottle of Potion from her robe pocket and gulped it down. "Professor Snape, do you need some?"

"Madam Pomfrey prepared this for me. I take some whenever I feel chest tightness and a racing heartbeat."

"Thanks, but no need." Snape rejected her decisively, then said flatly, "If you could control that bunch of reckless idiots, it would be more effective than any Potion."

With that, Snape walked off on his own.

Professor McGonagall was so angry that she gritted her teeth, though not because of Snape. It was because of her own bunch of idiots.

They had actually reported Snape—not just one or two young wizards, but practically the entire house!

Seeing the letters Dumbledore had given her, McGonagall wished she could find a crack in the floor to hide in.

Could Snape and Quirrell possibly be the same?

Leaving aside the fact that he was the youngest Head of House in Slytherin's history and had excellent relationships with numerous pure-blood families,

just considering his achievements in Potions alone, if Hogwarts dismissed Snape, could they find another Potions professor capable of matching him?

He and a professor like Quirrell, who had no real talent and only knew how to read books, were simply not in the same league.

For these reasons, even though every professor knew that Snape was somewhat biased toward his own house, none of them took it seriously.

So the little lions had truly kicked an iron plate by reporting him.

Gryffindor's already meager points were directly reduced by sixty-six points by the extremely vindictive Snape.

Why sixty-six? Why not an even number?

Because that was all the points Gryffindor had left. To give Professor McGonagall some face, he had deliberately left them five points.

Well, Potter had Potions class the day after tomorrow. Those five points probably wouldn't survive either. Looking at the nearly empty scoreboard, the little lions were close to tears. "You're laughing!"

Hermione angrily pinched Wayne. In her eyes, Wayne was clearly taking pleasure in their misfortune.

If he hadn't set such a bad example, everyone else wouldn't have followed suit and written complaint letters. That fellow was truly capable of ruining everyone's lives without remorse.

"Hey, hey, don't get physical." Wayne dodged the delicate, smooth hand. No matter how beautiful a hand was, being pinched by it still hurt.

"I'm just congratulating you."

"You've got no points left anyway. With no desires, you're invincible. Even if Snape wants to target you now, there's nothing he can do, right?"

Wayne was spouting nonsense, but unexpectedly, someone actually believed him. The Weasley twins' eyes lit up. After exchanging a glance, they let out a strange, hee-hee-hee laugh. "Looks like we're free, George."

"Ah, now we can really show what we're capable of, Fred." Hermione was completely dumbfounded.

What kind of house had I been sorted into? They were useless at everything except causing trouble, where they ranked first!

On the fourth floor, inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office,

under the cover of a soundproofing barrier, Quirrell trembled and prostrated himself on the floor, letting out shrill screams and moans.

"Master, please calm down, Master."

"Please spare me this once. I was only following your instructions and deliberately hiding my abilities!"

"Who could have expected that Lawrence would be so recklessly bold? He actually dared to lead so many people in reporting me!"

At that moment, Quirrell hated Wayne to the bone.

If not for him, Quirrell would not have been punished by the Dark Lord, nor would he be cowering in his office like a rat crossing the street, afraid to go anywhere and only able to hide from the storm.

"You mean to say you blame me?" Voldemort's murderous voice rang out in Quirrell's mind.

"No, Master." Quirrell hurriedly defended himself:

"This is all Lawrence's fault! That damn Mudblood ruined your plan!"

"All I have seen is your incompetence." Voldemort's face twisted viciously. Quirrell felt a piercing pain throughout his body and screamed again.

The pain continued for quite some time before finally stopping. Sweat had already soaked through his clothes.

"I don't care what method you use. Get me Dragon Blood, Mandrake Juice, and Swooping Evil venom as soon as possible."

"W-what are you going to do?"

"Hmph. Dumbledore will definitely come to speak with you. I must hide even deeper to evade his investigation."

Voldemort absolutely refused to leave Hogwarts. He had to obtain the Philosopher's Stone.

After receiving the order, Quirrell did not dare delay. He left the school through the fireplace in his office.

He spent all his savings and even robbed several Dark wizards in Knockturn Alley before barely scraping together enough money to purchase all the materials Voldemort required.

After a full night, Quirrell returned to Hogwarts.

Before long, someone knocked on the door of his office. Snape's voice came from outside:

"Quirrell, I know you're in there. Dumbledore wants to see you."

Standing at the door, Snape wore an amused expression. He wanted to see how Quirrell would get through this ordeal.

Would he reveal his fox's tail?

Two minutes later, the office door was pushed open, and Quirrell emerged with a calm expression.

"Let's go, Professor Snape."

Seeing his condition, Snape frowned slightly. "Weren't you suffering from a cold?"

"Thank you for your concern, but I bought some medicine yesterday, and I'm already much better." Snape looked at him sinisterly. "If you ever need Potion, come to me. It's free."

"No need. I can handle it myself," Quirrell cursed inwardly.

Who knew what strange things Snape might add to the medicine, such as Truth Serum?

Since the start of term, Snape had been monitoring Quirrell's movements, openly or otherwise. Even now, he had not managed to investigate the exact situation on the fourth floor. As a result, he had no idea how many times Voldemort had cursed him. Quirrell hated Snape almost as much as he hated Wayne.

The two reached the Seventh Floor. After bringing Quirrell there, Snape left.

The gargoyle had received instructions in advance and opened the passage without requiring a password. Forcing himself to remain calm, Quirrell clenched his fists and walked inside.

"Quirinus, I'm glad to see that your cold has recovered."

Dumbledore was as affable as ever, but Quirrell had already become extremely alert.

This was the first time he had met Dumbledore alone since successfully applying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.

To be honest, he was somewhat panicked.

What if Dumbledore suddenly attacked and subdued him?

Even as Voldemort's Jinchuriki, Quirrell knew that in his current condition, his master was no match for this white-bearded old man.

"I took the medicine twice and feel much better, Professor," Quirrell replied softly, deliberately avoiding those bright eyes. Dumbledore nodded. "Then I'm relieved. "You should have heard about what happened recently, right?"

"I know everything." Quirrell responded according to Voldemort's instructions. "The Ghoul and Vampire curses are constantly eroding my mind. Sometimes my reactions are rather slow."

"I'm sorry about that. The students have been affected."

"Then what do you plan to do?" Dumbledore followed Quirrell's words. "Curses from dark creatures are indeed extremely troublesome. Even I must deal with them cautiously."

"I sympathize with your situation, but the students' Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons cannot be delayed."

"Quirinus, my suggestion is that you return home and recuperate for a while." Dumbledore filled a cup with hot tea for Quirrell. "The other professors can take turns covering your classes. You can return after you have fully recovered."

Quirrell naturally understood the unspoken meaning.

If you remain in this condition, you don't need to teach anymore.

He cursed Wayne viciously again, then forced a smile. "Professor, I think that won't be necessary. I'm safest inside Hogwarts." "You know that I've been avoiding those people.

"As for the classes, please don't worry. I'll do everything I can to help the students."

"Oh?"

Dumbledore's expression suddenly grew much more serious as he studied Quirrell. "Are you certain?"

"If another complaint arises, I'm afraid your departure won't be very dignified." "I'm certain." Quirrell steadied his mind. "But I still need some help suppressing the curse."

Dumbledore neither agreed nor disagreed. "What do you want? Snape's Potion?"

"No. I need Phoenix tears."

The office fell silent. Neither of them spoke again. Only Fawkes cried out twice in displeasure.

Quirrell was sweating inwardly.

Everything he had said had been taught to him by Voldemort.

To ensure that he could remain in Hogwarts, Voldemort had gone all out. Is it just Defense Against the Dark Arts? I'll teach it myself!

Voldemort had always held a grudge over failing to obtain this position back then, and he had come to hate Dumbledore even more because of it.

Now, he could consider this a dream fulfilled by unconventional means.

He had used the curse as an excuse to explain the drastic change in Quirrell and dispel Dumbledore's suspicions. The only problem was that his energy was running low.

Although he could control Quirrell's body, he could not maintain it for long. Voldemort planned to trick Dumbledore into giving him some Phoenix tears to tide him over, then go to the Forbidden Forest to find Unicorns and use their blood to restore his strength.

Compared to White Magic, the Dark Arts took effect faster and suited Voldemort's tastes better. To conceal himself completely, Voldemort had fallen into a deep sleep before coming here.

Quirrell was extremely nervous now, unsure whether Dumbledore would agree to his request.

"All right. For the sake of your health, I suppose I'll have to trouble Fawkes."

Dumbledore finally spoke. He then walked over to the Phoenix and gently stroked its feathers.

Fawkes was displeased, but still squeezed out a small bottle of tears. Then, angrily turning his backside toward Old Dumbledore, he flew out the window to play with Ho-Oh. It was easy to predict that Fawkes would not be giving his master a pleasant look for quite some time.

Quirrell left happily with the tears, promising that after resting for one more day, he would resume teaching normally.

Not long afterward, Snape came again. "What did you figure out?"

"A great deal, and very little." Dumbledore became a riddle-speaker. "Quirrell asked for a bottle of Phoenix tears—or rather, Tom asked for them."

Snape's expression changed, and his body shifted unnaturally. "You gave them to him?"

"I did." A wise light flashed through Dumbledore's eyes. "If I refused, he would certainly resort to more extreme methods to achieve his goal."

"Rather than let Quirrell do something we know nothing about, I might as well give him a hand."

"At least the situation remains under our control."

"Can't we just arrest him?" Snape irritably clasped his hands together. "One dose of Truth Serum, and I guarantee he'll tell us everything."

"The result is just as important as the process, Severus."