I Want to Control Myself

The dark potion quickly filled the room with a foul stench.

"Stepped on my own landmine and now I have to lick my own... "

Enduring the nausea, gritting his teeth and steeling his resolve, Voldemort raised the golden cauldron.

"Gulp... gulp..."

The stench filled his mouth, then flowed down his throat into his stomach... This sour and refreshing taste was not something he wanted to experience a second time.

"Snap."

He disdainfully flicked the golden cauldron away, denting it, but Voldemort didn't care.

"Next, I need to sleep and try to glimpse the origin of the curse in my dreams."

Voldemort pondered his next steps, but didn't act immediately. Instead, he went to rinse his mouth and brush his teeth.

After taking care of his oral hygiene, he lay down on the bed and quickly fell asleep, waiting for the potion to take effect.

After sleeping for half an hour, in a daze, a dream began to form:

A dimly lit basement, with many stone pillars carved with intertwined snakes, soaring to support a ceiling that dissolved into the darkness above. The room was filled with a mysterious, green mist.

At the end of the basement, a straight figure gazed up at a tall statue behind him, muttering unintelligible words.

Voldemort wanted to approach and see, but he had no control over this dream. It was completely different from the world in the Pensieve.

Staring at the straight figure, Voldemort knew it was himself at twenty years old.

Time flew by. Now, he had lost his body and his power, becoming a sixty-something-year-old specter, while the figure before him was still in the prime of his youth...

Suddenly, the figure raised his wand, and a spell shot out from the tip, striking the statue—there was no explosion or flash as he expected. The statue simply absorbed the curse.

The entire dream began to dim, and finally, it slowly faded from Voldemort's vision.

"Hoo."

The sleeping Voldemort's eyes snapped open.

In the darkness, only the dim moonlight from outside the window illuminated the head of the bed.

"That spell... that spell..."

He muttered repeatedly, picking up the yew wand by his hand and attempting the spell again and again, based on the feeling from his dream:

Obliviate...

Cruciatus Curse...

Stupefy...

Voldemort tried every spell that directly affected the mind, one by one, but even as his magic was nearly depleted, there was still no result.

"Soul Departure..."

Green light shot out from the yew wand, and Voldemort's heart trembled.

"It's this feeling, but it's incomplete... incomplete..."

There were no colors in the dream, he couldn't see the color of the spell, but the feeling was definitely not the Imperius Curse—more accurately, it was more than just the Imperius Curse.

"A mixed spell? Similar to the Imperius Curse. If that's the case..."

"Confundus Charm."

The spell hit the ceiling, dislodging some plaster, but Voldemort didn't care at all, because he had found the feeling of the spell from his dream.

"Centered around the Confundus Charm, with the Imperius Curse added... Voldemort's remnant soul, how much memory have you lost?"

He couldn't help but complain inwardly. The spell in the dream was clearly an enhanced version of the Confundus Charm, with the characteristics of the Imperius Curse, making it better at confusing the senses.

The Confundus Charm was originally a common spell, but in Voldemort's hands, it had taken on the characteristics of dark magic—a powerful, supremely evil attribute.

In other words, once this curse was triggered—it must have a unique trigger condition—the Confundus Charm with Imperius Curse attributes would take effect on himself. At that point...

Voldemort couldn't help but shiver.

He couldn't imagine what would happen if he did things he couldn't control right under Dumbledore's nose.

"No wonder Quirrell in my memory dared to use dark curses on Harry during the match in broad daylight..."

"No wonder Lockhart, who had refined Obliviate into a divine skill, could barely use ordinary magic in the Chamber of Secrets..."

"No wonder the usually cautious and low-key Lupin forgot to drink his Wolfsbane Potion on the most crucial day..."

"No wonder Barty Crouch Jr. after completing his mission..."

"..."

Everything seemed to have an answer at this moment. The cursed Defense Against the Dark Arts class was indeed living up to its name.

"So, how can I avoid being confused?"

Voldemort was stumped. He didn't even know the trigger condition for the curse, so how could he prevent it?

"Could it be... give up?"

He had this thought, but he hesitated to make up his mind.

Giving up now would be more detrimental than beneficial:

First, his identity as Quirrell would surely be exposed, and he'd likely face endless pursuit from Old Bee.

Second, he wouldn't be able to wear down Old Bee as originally planned—in fact, he was no longer convinced by that idea.

Finally, Hogwarts held his Horcruxes and abundant magical knowledge, both of which he urgently needed.

Currently, although he could cast spells, even dark magic, by relying on Quirrell's powerful magic, he hadn't systematically studied it and still had many deficiencies.

Especially after witnessing the former Dark Lord's modifications to the Confundus Charm, he felt an even greater yearning to systematically study magic.

Even if he couldn't attend classes like a student in his role as a teacher, Hogwarts had a vast library and powerful professors who could answer his questions at any time, all of which he desperately needed.

And before he became powerful himself, the Death Eaters were untrustworthy—at least those outside Azkaban were.

"So, I still have to go, even if the first stumbling block is one I set for myself."

With his decision made, Voldemort no longer hesitated and began planning for the future.

He took out a diary and started organizing his thoughts:

First: Guard against the Confundus Charm and plan ahead for possible accidents.

Second: Strive to advance the plot until it reaches an irreversible point.

Third: Weaken Dumbledore's suspicion of me and work to keep the Quirrell identity safe.

Fourth: Create a study plan, including but not limited to this entire year.

Fifth: Create a teaching plan, focusing on the cultivation of Slytherin, and subtly influence Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor (prepare to abandon them if necessary).

Sixth: Pay attention to Azkaban and find a way to rescue loyal followers…

As the plans were laid out one by one, Voldemort's restless heart gradually calmed.

While the Confundus Charm cast by a twenty-year-old Voldemort was indeed terrifying, it wasn't impossible to defend against. However, doing so would make it nearly impossible to ensure the plot proceeded smoothly.

"If only I could…"

As he tore off the page he was writing on, along with the next few pages, and burned them all, he thought, "The best way is still to control myself and not be affected by the Confundus Charm."