Before the letter of appointment was finished, the silver phoenix had already flown back.
"Although Professor McGonagall was quite upset, she still managed to adjust the class schedule."
Dumbledore said happily, "You can do things your own way. Once I've finished writing your letter, I'll also send Hagrid a note asking him to work as your teaching assistant 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 to write the letter of appointment, his words full of helplessness. It seemed Voldemort's curse had left him struggling to cope.
Quirrell also let out a long breath. Even without having to pretend, he was truly afraid of that curse, because it had come from his master.
"Click."
The seal bearing the four images unique to Hogwarts—a lion, a badger, an eagle, and a snake—was stamped onto the letter.
Quirrell keenly sensed a wave of magic flicker across the letter the instant the seal came down.
"Well then..."
Dumbledore picked up the letter and looked at Quirrell. "Welcome home, Quirrell. This is your second job at Hogwarts."
"Thank you." Quirrell stood up excitedly and took the letter.
At that very moment, the curse took hold. Quirrell shuddered, and Voldemort, hiding inside him within the Blood Curse, was jolted awake by his own curse.
"Your reaction is stronger than anyone else's," Dumbledore asked with concern. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"No."
Quirrell answered at once. "It must be the Blood Curse. It's made me sensitive to the curse."
Dumbledore nodded and looked at Quirrell with concern. After a moment's thought, he said, "I'll try to break it again. If you discover anything, you can tell me as well."
Quirrell nodded. "All right, Headmaster. I'll be going back now. Once I've sorted out my ideas, I'll build the practical training grounds in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid."
Dumbledore nodded, quickly wrote a short note, and handed it to Quirrell. It was proof of authorization for Hagrid.
"If you need to use a fireplace, get in touch with Professor McGonagall at any time," Dumbledore said.
"All right, Headmaster." Quirrell bowed and left.
As soon as he was out of the Headmaster's Office, Voldemort took control of the body, and Quirrell immediately began recounting what had happened while Voldemort was asleep.
"You did well, but we need to hurry back now and deal with the curse—my own curse."
Voldemort spoke with considerable resignation.
So...
I cursed myself?
"It doesn't look like it."
As soon as Quirrell left, the portrait of Headmaster Black spoke up.
"Albus, what did you see in the Blood Curse?"
The portrait of Headmaster Armando Dippet, who had not spoken before, asked.
"The curse of a female Vampire. Nothing more."
Dumbledore said thoughtfully, "He doesn't look as though he's ever seen Voldemort, but we all know how cunning Voldemort is."
The portraits of the headmasters fell silent. For a long while, no one spoke.
"It's time to sound out those Pure-blood families." Dumbledore rose and straightened his robes. "Perhaps he's hiding in one of their estates."
"Take a look at the Malfoy family. They're the most hypocritical of them all," said the portrait of Headmaster Dilys Derwent.
"Look into the Parkinson family, too. They're not as respectable as they appear," added the portrait of Headmaster Armando Dippet.
"I'll look into them all. I need to find out where he is."
As he spoke, Dumbledore held out his right hand. Fawkes flew from behind the door and landed on his arm.
Then, with a "pop," he vanished from the room.
36 Hall Street.
Voldemort had turned down Madam Rosmerta's invitation to dinner and hurried back here.
He had to analyze the curse in greater detail before it fully took shape. Thanks to the struggle between the two souls, Voldemort's already incomplete Soul Fragment had even lost the curse's full details.
"It definitely isn't a killing curse. Even at my most brutal, I never considered killing all wizards, not even those Mudbloods."
Voldemort murmured as he set up a gold cauldron in the locked room on the second floor. This kind of cauldron was ideal for combining Potions ingredients with conflicting properties, exactly what he needed now.
"The memories I have left suggest this curse was adapted from a mind-affecting spell. Perhaps I've been in contact with that magic recently."
As he analyzed, he filled the cauldron with water and added daffodils, an herb associated with death that could readily link with the curse.
"The memory of how to cast it is still there. I used the blood of Slytherin in my body at the time to pry open the power of the Chamber of Secrets and implant it throughout the castle..."
"In other words, the curse will remain as long as Hogwarts isn't rebuilt, or until I get the letter appointing me to this position... What a troublesome curse. No wonder Dumbledore can't break it, either."
"Flame Blaze."
Voldemort tapped the bottom of the gold cauldron with his yew wand, and blazing flames erupted beneath it.
His hands never stopped moving as he began adding African tree snake skin filament, the key to linking ingredients with opposing properties.
"Add one-third first, stir clockwise three times, then stir quickly counterclockwise..."
Reciting the instructions for this potion from memory helped him work accurately.
"Next, take dried Crocodile heart, slice it thin, crush it, and add it..."
"Then add another third of the African tree snake skin filament and stir counterclockwise three times..."
"An Muggle-repelling feather, a rare ingredient..."
"Simmer over low heat and wait quietly..."
After adjusting the flame, Voldemort sat cross-legged beside the cauldron and waited in silence.
During that time, he tried to dig more information about the curse out of his broken memories, but found nothing.
"Absorbing the souls and memories in the Horcruxes needs to be moved up the list."
He had made that decision long ago, but back then, he hadn't thought he could defeat those Horcruxes.
Now, it seemed that whether or not he could defeat them, he had to move ahead with it. Being cursed by a curse he'd cast himself was not only humiliating, but dangerous, too.
As he pondered, the ochre potion began to bubble, and the liquid quickly started to shrink.
"Three drops of Comfrey essence, which counteracts the daffodils. Add them one at a time."
Muttering under his breath, Voldemort carefully added a drop of Comfrey essence. The liquid shrank a little more slowly, but it was still shrinking quickly. The ochre color deepened, and a strange smell rose from the cauldron.
With the second drop, the ochre liquid turned dark brown. It shrank more slowly, and the smell grew stronger, making Voldemort want to pinch his nose shut.
With the third drop, the potion turned completely black. A foul stench filled the air, and the liquid stopped shrinking, leaving only a puddle at the bottom of the gold cauldron.
"Finite Incantatem."
Voldemort pointed beneath the cauldron. The flames went out, and the potion was finished.
"Curse-Revealing Potion... Did I really never care about a potion's appearance or smell?"
Staring at the puddle of foul black liquid, Voldemort's face crumpled.
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