Quirrell Has Two Faces

[Respected... Mr. Kayson Heath...]

A second later, he still made his decision. A flame cube appeared in his hand, burning the letter to ashes, because in that second he had already understood exactly what kind of game this letter was playing.

Nothing more than a vault advertisement, telling him to open a vault at Gringotts.

But it was utterly useless to him, truly.

After finishing his personal correspondence, he walked out of his office and headed toward the Professors' lounge.

First, for the liveliness—sitting alone in his office was truly boring.

Second, the Professors' lounge had Professor Sprout's freshly baked cookies, rich with milky fragrance, sweet without being cloying—one bite and you craved another.

The moment he stepped into the lounge, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, who had been chatting, spotted Kayson and quickly waved him over.

"You made quite a splash in your first class. Minerva and I couldn't teach our lessons properly—they kept asking us whether Transfiguration and Charms could create gold." Professor Flitwick pushed the plate of cookies toward Kayson.

Kayson grabbed a cookie and devoured it: "If I caused any disruption to your lessons, I apologize, but honestly, I'm proud. Truly. I never thought my first class would go so peacefully, because my alchemy isn't orthodox alchemy—it's even wilder than unorthodox methods."

"But your first lesson was still excellent. The best part was sparking their interest in alchemy. Studying a subject without interest is as painful as marrying someone you don't love, so in terms of igniting interest, you're absolutely top-tier." Professor Flitwick comforted him.

"Yeah, tomorrow I have fourth-year classes. I need to teach them real knowledge, not just use gold to get through one lesson." Kayson nodded.

"And that's the downside of not preparing a lesson plan." Professor McGonagall delivered the finishing blow.

"OK, I definitely won't let it happen again. I promise, Professor."

"See that you don't."

The three chatted a while longer, and soon a strange smell drifted into their nostrils.

Like garlic? Well, it was garlic.

The ancient Greek god of garlic, Professor Quirrell, had arrived.

In an instant, Professor McGonagall suddenly remembered she still had student homework to grade, and Professor Flitwick finally recalled he needed to fill in his lesson plans—McGonagall was pressing him hard.

As for Kayson, he sat there like a pitiful little thing, neither able to leave nor stay, shivering in the garlic wind.

"Kayson... Pro..Professor, uh, glad you, you didn't run away when you saw me." Quirrell sat down, somewhat embarrassed.

"Why would I run? And sometimes I eat garlic too—like when I'm having barbecue." Kayson said through gritted teeth.

"Th..thank you for, for understanding me." Quirrell said, delighted.

"It's nothing. Everyone is an individual. You don't need others' understanding to be complete. A person can still be a good person on their own." Kayson explained.

[Affection from Quirrell +10]

Quirrell nodded: "Yes... th..that's right. Oh, right, I came here to, to ask you about something."

"I heard you, you can transmute gold. I wanted to see how, how you do it?"

Though Kayson couldn't fathom why Quirrell was curious about this, he didn't dig deeper.

He had no right to question why someone was curious—that was their personal business.

He simply picked up a loose quill from the coffee table, pinched it between his fingers, and on a microscopic level, countless tiny golden cubes burrowed into every part of the quill, like cuckoos usurping a nest, squeezing out the original fibers and letting them dissipate into the air.

Only gold remained in place, forming a golden quill.

From this perspective, what was called "transmutation" was really more like "replacement."

Not quite accurate, but closer in meaning than "transmutation."

Quirrell watched the entire scene unfold, utterly stunned.

He picked up the golden quill with trembling hands.

"It really... really is incredible. How.. how did you do it?"

"You didn't.. didn't use magic, the Philosopher's Stone? And this isn't, isn't mercury either?"

Kayson shrugged: "Maybe it's talent."

[Appreciation from Voldemort +10]

Kayson, who had been resisting the garlic smell while enjoying Professor Quirrell's praise, suddenly froze.

He wasn't seeing things, was he? What had he just seen?

...Voldemort?

If he remembered correctly, this Voldemort was supposed to be the big bad boss, and this big bad boss had just expressed appreciation for him.

"Emmm..."

He looked up and glanced around. Not all of Hogwarts' professors were as leisurely as he was right now.

Core subject professors were all busy, and most elective professors had their own affairs, their own magical experiments.

Few were like Kayson, loafing around the lounge with nothing to do.

Thus, in the vast Professors' lounge, at this very moment, only he and Professor Quirrell remained.

"..." Kayson silently swallowed his saliva, looking at Quirrell, who sat across from him, fiddling with the golden quill in his hand.

Maybe this wasn't Quirrell. No, that couldn't be explained.

He himself also had favorability points from Quirrell...

Realizing this, he subtly controlled wisps of tiny cubes to spread throughout the entire lounge, scanning the whole room.

Alright, he could now rule out the possibility of Voldemort being invisible.

In other words, this Quirrell with his thick eyebrows and honest face had two sides to him.

Kayson sucked in a sharp breath, contributing a mouthful to global warming.

Quirrell finally spoke: "Professor Kayson, you, you can... can you make, make the Philosopher's Stone? I see, your, your current alchemy level, is not, not lower than that Nicolas Flamel."

"You're overestimating me there. I just have a bit of talent; I can't compare myself to Nicolas Flamel."

"No, don't sell yourself short. You, you are younger than him, that is, that is your greatest, talent." After Quirrell finished speaking haltingly, he looked down at the golden quill in his hand.

"I... I can..."

"Of course you can. Take it, I don't mind."

"Th... thank you, thank you so much, you, you are truly generous."

Kayson watched Quirrell leave the Professors' lounge. After waiting another five minutes, he let out a sigh of relief, then left the lounge himself and went straight to the door of Dumbledore's office.

He looked at the two stone statues in front of him and said: "Cockroach Clusters."

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