Quirrell knew he was being taken for a fool.
But thankfully, Ollivander's quality was still guaranteed.
Although this wand was not as comfortable to use as his old one, the difference was not that great.
With a Transfiguration spell, he carved it into the exact same shape as the broken one.
All the humiliation he had just endured vanished in that instant.
Knock, knock—
He got up and opened the office door. Fred and George, both smiling, squeezed their way inside.
"Hello, Professor."
The dialogue felt strangely familiar, and Quirrell was seized by an inexplicable sense of foreboding.
Before the twins could speak, Lee, who had squeezed in behind them, stated their purpose. "Professor, we all want to learn some magic for dealing with Dark wizards."
Quirrell was a little bewildered.
Because Voldemort had learned their true thoughts through their emotions.
They had come to expose a fraud.
And Fred and George, in particular, meant him no good.
As he connected everything together, Quirrell could not help secretly rejoicing.
Vincent's methods were clever. He had spotted that Quirrell did not dare reveal too much of his magical strength and still had to maintain the image of a timid, cowardly man.
After he briefly demonstrated two or three utterly pathetic spells, he was, as expected, met with the disdain of every third-year Gryffindor student.
The twins, the strongest fighters among them, even hinted that this professor was so useless that Filch could teach them better ways to spot enemies.
Voldemort exploded again.
His subordinate could not even compare to a mere Squib. The disgrace suffered by the Dark Lord could nearly fill the Mariana Trench.
While Quirrell endured their doubts, his mind was flooded with every sort of fragrant curse.
It was hard. Far too hard.
"Professor, don't you have anything