Quirrell Had Another Face

Dear... Mr. Kayson Heath...

A second later, he made his decision. A flaming cube appeared in his hand and burned the letter to ashes, because in that second, he had already understood exactly what this letter was about.

It was nothing more than an advertisement for vaults, trying to get him to open one at Gringotts.

But it was completely useless to him. Really.

After reading his personal mail, he left his office and headed for the Professors' lounge.

First, it was livelier there. Being cooped up alone in his office was honestly boring.

Second, there were Professor Sprout's cookies in the Professors' lounge. Richly milky and sweet without being cloying, one bite made you want another.

The moment he entered the lounge, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, who had been chatting, spotted Kayson and quickly beckoned him over to sit with them.

"You certainly caused quite a stir in your first class. Neither Minerva nor I managed to teach properly. They kept asking us whether Charms and Transfiguration could create gold." Professor Flitwick pushed the cookies in front of him toward Kayson.

Kayson picked up a cookie and started devouring it. "If I disrupted your lessons at all, I'm sorry. But honestly, I'm proud of myself. Really. I never thought my first class would go so peacefully, because my alchemy isn't orthodox alchemy. It's more unconventional than unconventional."

"But your first class was still very good. The best thing was that you sparked their interest in alchemy. Studying a subject you're not interested in is as painful as marrying someone you don't love, so when it came to piquing their interest, you were absolutely in the top tier." Professor Flitwick comforted him.

"Yeah. I have a fourth-year class tomorrow, so I'll have to teach them real knowledge instead of using gold to get through a lesson." Kayson nodded.

"This is what happens when you don't prepare a lesson plan." Professor McGonagall added the finishing blow.

"Okay, I definitely won't make that mistake again. I promise, Professor."

"That would be best."

The three chatted for a while longer, but soon, a strange smell drifted into their noses.

Garlic? Well, it was garlic.

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

In an instant, Professor McGonagall suddenly remembered that she still had student assignments to mark. Professor Flitwick also finally remembered that he needed to make up his lesson plans, and Professor McGonagall had been pressing him about them.

Meanwhile, Kayson sat there like a poor little thing, unable to leave yet unable to stay, trembling in the garlic-scented wind.

"Professor Kayson... I, I'm very glad you, you didn't run away when you saw me," Quirrell said awkwardly as he sat down.

"Why would I run? Besides, I eat garlic sometimes too, like when I'm having barbecue." Kayson forced himself to say it.

"Th-thank you for, for understanding me." Quirrell looked delighted.

"It's fine. Everyone is an individual. You don't need other people's understanding to be complete. A person can still become a good person on their own," Kayson explained.

Favorability from Quirrell +10

Quirrell nodded. "Yes... ex-exactly. R-right, I came here to find you. I, I have something to ask."

"I heard that you, you can turn things into gold. I want to see how, how you do it."

Though Kayson could not understand why Quirrell was curious about this, he did not look into it further.

He had no right to question why someone else was curious, after all. It was their personal privacy.

He merely picked up a quill lying on the coffee table. With a pinch of his fingers, countless tiny golden cubes seeped into every part of the quill on a microscopic level, like cuckoos taking over a nest. They squeezed out the native fibers and made them dissipate into the air.

Only gold remained in place, forming a golden quill.

From that perspective, so-called transformation should really have been called replacement.

It was not entirely accurate, but it was closer in meaning than transformation.

Quirrell watched the entire scene from beginning to end, and he was utterly stunned.

Trembling, he picked up the golden quill.

"It really... really is incredible. H-how, how did you do this?"

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

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 went rigid.

He had not seen that wrong, had he? What had he just seen?

...Voldemort?

If he remembered correctly, Voldemort seemed to be the big boss. And now that big boss had expressed appreciation for him.

"Um..."

He raised his head and looked around. Not every Hogwarts professor was as leisurely as he was right now.

The professors of required subjects were all busy, while most elective professors had matters of their own to attend to, their own magical experiments.

Very few, like Kayson, had nothing better to do than come to the lounge and chat.

Therefore, in the spacious Professors' lounge, there were only him and Professor Quirrell at this moment.

"..." Kayson silently swallowed as he looked at Quirrell across from him, who was playing with the golden quill in his hand.

Maybe this wasn't Quirrell. No, that couldn't explain it.

After all, he had also received favorability from Quirrell...

Once he realized this, he discreetly controlled strands of tiny cubes, spreading them throughout the lounge and scanning the entire room.

Fine, he could now rule out the possibility that Voldemort was invisible.

Which meant that this bushy-browed, big-eyed Quirrell before him had another face.

Kayson sucked in a sharp breath, making his own contribution to global warming.

At last, Quirrell spoke. "Professor Kayson, can you... can you make, make the Philosopher's Stone? I think your current alchemy level is, is no lower than Nicolas Flamel's."

"You're overestimating me. I just have a little talent. I can't possibly compare myself to Nicolas Flamel."

"No, don't underestimate yourself. You, you're younger than him. That is, that is your greatest talent." After Quirrell finished speaking in fits and starts, he looked again at the golden quill in his hand.

"Can I... can I..."

"Of course. Take it. I don't mind."

"Th-thank you, thank you so much. You, you're very generous."

Kayson watched Quirrell leave the Professors' lounge. Only after waiting another five minutes did he finally let out a breath of relief. Then he too left the lounge and headed straight to Dumbledore's office.

Looking at the two statues before him, he said, "Cockroach Clusters."

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