I Curse Myself

Before the letter of appointment was even written, the silver phoenix had already flown back.

"Even though Professor McGonagall was very angry, she still adjusted the class schedule."

Dumbledore said happily, "You can do as you please. After the letter of appointment is written, I will also write a letter to Hagrid, asking him to be your assistant teacher part-time."

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore," Quirrell said sincerely.

"I only hope you can escape that curse, otherwise in a year..."

Dumbledore lowered his head and wrote the letter of appointment, his words filled with helplessness—it seemed Voldemort's curse had worn him out.

Quirrell also let out a sigh of relief. Regarding that curse, even without acting, he was terrified of it, because the curse came from his master.

"Crack."

The seal, unique to Hogwarts, bearing the images of the lion, badger, eagle, and snake, was stamped onto the letter of appointment.

Quirrell keenly felt a magical fluctuation flicker on the letter of appointment the moment the seal landed.

"Then..."

Dumbledore picked up the letter of appointment and looked at Quirrell, "Welcome home, Quirrell. This is your second job at Hogwarts."

"Thank you." Quirrell excitedly stood up and took the letter of appointment.

At that very moment, the curse descended. Quirrell shivered, and within him, Voldemort, who was hiding in the Blood Curse, was also awakened by his own curse.

"Your reaction is more intense than others," Dumbledore asked with concern, "Are you feeling unwell?"

"No."

Quirrell immediately replied, "It must be the Blood Curse that makes me sensitive to curses."

Dumbledore nodded, looking at Quirrell with worry. After a moment of thought, he said, "I will try to decipher it again. If you discover anything, you can also tell me."

Quirrell nodded, "Okay, Headmaster. I'll head back then. As for the training grounds in the Forbidden Forest, I'll set them up with Hagrid after I've organized my thoughts."

Dumbledore nodded and quickly wrote a short message, handing it to Quirrell. This was Hagrid's credential.

"If you need to use the fireplace, contact Professor McGonagall anytime," Dumbledore said.

"Okay, Headmaster," Quirrell replied, bowed, and left.

As soon as he stepped out of the Headmaster's office, Voldemort took direct control of the body, and Quirrell immediately began recounting what had happened after Voldemort had fallen asleep.

"You did well, but we need to hurry back now to deal with the curse, my own curse."

Voldemort said this with a hint of helplessness in his voice.

So...

I cursed myself?

"It doesn't seem like it."

After Quirrell left, Headmaster Black's portrait immediately spoke.

"Albus, what did you see in the Blood Curse?"

Headmaster Armando Dippet's portrait, who had not spoken before, asked.

"A female vampire's curse, nothing more."

Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "He doesn't seem to have met Voldemort, but we all know Voldemort's cunning."

The portraits of the headmasters fell silent, and no one spoke for a long time.

"It's time to test those Pure-blood families," Dumbledore stood up and straightened his robes, "Perhaps he is hiding in one of their manors."

"Go check out the Malfoy family, they are the most hypocritical," said the portrait of Headmistress Dilys Derwent.

"Also check the Parkinson family; their household is not as clean as it appears," Headmaster Armando Dippet's portrait also offered his opinion.

"I will check them all. I need to know where he truly is," Dumbledore said, extending his right hand. The phoenix Fawkes behind the door flew up, landed on his arm, and then, with a "bang," disappeared from the room.

36 Hall Street.

Voldemort, having refused Madam Rosmerta's dinner invitation, hurried back here.

He had to analyze the content of the curse in more detail before it fully took shape—thanks to the struggle between the two souls, Voldemort's residual soul, already with fragmented memories, had even lost the detailed content of the curse.

"It's definitely not a killing curse. Even the most brutal me never intended to kill all wizards, not even those Mudbloods," Voldemort muttered. In a locked room on the second floor, he set up a gold cauldron—this type of cauldron could effectively combine potion ingredients with conflicting properties, which was exactly what he needed now.

"The residual memories indicate that this curse was adapted from a mental spell. Perhaps I've recently come into contact with this magic."

While analyzing, he added water to the cauldron and also put in daffodils, an herb associated with death that could connect well with the curse.

"The method of casting... I do have a memory of it. Based on the Slytherin bloodline in my body at the time, I leveraged the power of the Hogwarts Chamber of Secrets to implant it into the entire castle..."

"So, as long as Hogwarts isn't rebuilt, or I don't receive an offer for this position, the curse will remain... A troublesome curse. No wonder even Dumbledore couldn't break it."

"Incendio."

The yew wand pointed beneath the gold cauldron, and flames instantly blazed.

Voldemort's hands didn't stop as he began adding the African tree snake skin filament, the key to connecting the two opposing potion ingredients.

"Add one-third first, stir clockwise three times, then quickly stir counter-clockwise..."

Reciting the potion's brewing method from memory helped him operate with greater accuracy.

"Next is the dried crocodile heart, sliced thinly, crushed, and added..."

"Add another third of the African tree snake skin filament, counter-clockwise three times..."

"Muggle-repelling feather, a rare ingredient..."

"Simmer on low heat, wait quietly..."

After adjusting the flames, Voldemort sat cross-legged nearby and began to wait quietly.

During this time, he tried to find more information about the curse within the fragmented memories, but unfortunately, he found nothing.

"Absorbing the souls and memories from the Horcruxes needs to be put on the agenda."

This was a decision he had made long ago, but at the time, he didn't think he could defeat those Horcruxes.

But now, it seemed, whether he could defeat them or not, it had to be put on the agenda—being cursed by his own curse was not only frustrating but also dangerous.

As he pondered, the earthy-yellow potion began to bubble, and the liquid started to shrink rapidly.

"Three drops of Comfrey essence, which counteracts narcissus, added in stages."

Muttering, Voldemort carefully added one drop of Comfrey essence. The liquid's shrinking speed slowed slightly but was still fast, and the earthy-yellow color began to deepen, emitting a strange smell.

Upon adding the second drop, the earthy-yellow turned dark brown. The liquid's shrinking speed slowed again, and the smell became even more pungent, making Voldemort want to pinch his nose.

With the third drop, the potion's color turned completely black, a foul odor wafted out, and the liquid stopped shrinking, leaving only a pool at the bottom of the gold cauldron.

"Finite Incantatem."

Voldemort pointed at the cauldron, and the flames extinguished. The potion was successfully brewed.

"Curse-Revealing Potion... In the past, did I really not consider the potion's appearance and smell?"

Looking at the foul-smelling black liquid, Voldemort's face contorted in an awkward expression.