Walking With Harry

Every year at this time, Diagon Alley is at its liveliest.

Almost all British Wizards come to Diagon Alley these few days. They don't necessarily have to buy anything, they just want to experience the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley.

Voldemort and Harry stood face-to-face in the crowd, one contemplating whether to kill, the other tapping his foot on the floor.

"Let's go buy your uniform first," Voldemort, afraid of Dumbledore after all, said. "We can grab a hot drink on the way; you need to calm down."

"Thank you... Professor Quirrell."

After everything that had just happened, young Harry's spirits were clearly low. He followed Voldemort's footsteps, walking silently for a while before speaking again.

"Professor Quirrell, is the Wizarding world always this dangerous?"

This was a question that surprised Voldemort. Did the little fellow want to give up?

"I... I'm just a little curious."

Facing Voldemort's questioning gaze, young Harry said timidly.

"It's not very dangerous," Voldemort shrugged. "This was just an accident."

Harry nodded and quickened his pace, his short legs struggling to keep up with Quirrell's brisk walk.

"Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Tell her you're a new student, and she'll know what to do," Voldemort said, stopping in front of the shop. "I'll go get a hot drink; you need it."

Harry looked at Voldemort nervously, clearly not wanting him to leave, but Voldemort's gaze was firm.

"Okay, but can you come back quickly?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Of course, be brave, child, it's safe here."

Watching Harry enter the shop, Voldemort's brow furrowed the moment he turned away—a killing intent surged from the depths of his soul, the part belonging to Voldemort's remnant soul acting up.

Killing a child? He couldn't even imagine it.

Perhaps in the Darkest Hour, he would have done it without hesitation, but in his clear state, the reborn Voldemort couldn't bring himself to do it—he was ultimately not the same person he used to be. Lin Zuo's soul, from a peaceful era, played a decisive role in this matter.

"Perhaps..."

Voldemort thought to himself, "In my clear state, I can't even cast the Unforgivable Curses."

"You must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Quirrell."

Quirrell, who had returned to the entrance of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, encountered Lucius Malfoy.

He was dressed luxuriously and impeccably, looking as if he had nothing to do with the recent robbery. The house-elf Dobby followed him at a distance, carrying a stack of books.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort replied, holding a hot drink.

"I heard you were inside when the Gringotts robbery happened, is that right?" Malfoy asked nonchalantly.

"Yes, several men in black attacked us."

"Can you identify them?"

"No."

Voldemort had no interest in continuing the conversation, but Malfoy wasn't about to stop. Fortunately, at this moment, Draco Malfoy came out.

"Oh, son, come meet your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell."

Malfoy called his son over and introduced Voldemort to him.

"Hello, Professor," young Malfoy bowed politely, acting like a little adult.

"Hello, little Malfoy," Voldemort replied with a smile, but he saw young Malfoy frown.

"He prefers to be called Draco, Draco Malfoy," the elder Malfoy explained.

"Then he needs the corresponding strength," Voldemort said with some dissatisfaction. "Having a temper that doesn't match his abilities will only harm him."

The elder Malfoy raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into the depths of his gaze.

"My father is a school governor, if..."

Before young Malfoy could finish speaking, the elder Malfoy stopped him.

"Hush, Draco," the elder Malfoy said earnestly. "Apologize to your professor."

"What? Father, you actually..." young Malfoy tried to resist.

"Apologize."

The elder Malfoy said in an unrefusable tone, but young Malfoy still hesitated. Just as the elder Malfoy was about to take action, Voldemort spoke.

"There's no need for that."

Voldemort's tone shifted slightly, and in that instant, the elder Malfoy felt struck by lightning.

"I will educate him, at Hogwarts."

Voldemort looked at the elder Malfoy, his gaze calm and unwavering.

"Mas... Master... Yes, Professor, you may do so." The elder Malfoy's once straight back bowed slightly at this moment.

"Father, what's wrong? Why..."

Draco's words were only halfway out when his father's wooden staff landed on his backside.

"Shut up, Draco, don't say another word," the elder Malfoy said nervously.

"Now, now, don't lecture your child in public, you need to consider their self-esteem," Voldemort reminded him.

"Yes, Professor."

The elder Malfoy bowed respectfully, then said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Do you need me to see you? Or do something?"

"Do nothing, show nothing, that's best," Voldemort said softly, glancing at Draco.

The little one lowered his head, feeling wronged all by himself.

"Okay, then..."

The elder Malfoy started to bow, but remembering Voldemort's words, he straightened up. However, he didn't know how to say goodbye.

"Then goodbye. Harry is coming out, and I still need to take him to buy books," Voldemort said with a smile, waving goodbye to the incredulous elder Malfoy.

"Goodbye... Mr. Quirrell," the elder Malfoy said dazedly, then took his child's hand and left, Dobby following behind them, skipping along.

"Creak."

The door opened, and Voldemort turned to see Harry.

"He's a rude fellow," Harry also saw the back of young Malfoy. "He always says strange things."

"It's prejudice in the wizarding world, just like in the Muggle world. It's always unavoidable," Voldemort said, then took out a small cloth bag and handed it to Harry.

"What is this?" Harry asked curiously.

"A cloth bag with an Undetectable Extension Charm added to it, a birthday gift for you," Voldemort said.

"Thank you, Professor Quirrell. This is the first birthday gift I've received, the first in eleven years."

He excitedly took the bag and looked it over, but it just looked like an ordinary bag no matter how he looked at it.

"Its space is much larger than it looks. You can put your school uniform in it," Voldemort began to teach him how to use it.

"It's amazing."

After trying it a few times, putting clothes in and taking them out, Harry said.

"Magic is always like this."

Voldemort said, handing him a hot drink, and instructed, "It's illegal to use the Undetectable Extension Charm without authorization, so don't use it frequently in front of people."

"Cough, cough, cough..." Harry, who was drinking the hot drink, was startled by Voldemort's words.

"Don't worry. If anyone finds out, just say I gave it to you," Voldemort said with a smile.

He wasn't afraid of the Ministry of Magic at all; he was only afraid of Dumbledore, especially after witnessing Dumbledore's enhanced "Finite Incantatem."

"Where are we going next?" Harry carefully put the cloth bag in his pocket and asked, glancing warily at the passersby around them.

"Flourish and Blotts," Voldemort said, leading the way.

"What is Quidditch?" Harry asked, following in his footsteps.

"A game played on broomsticks. You should be very talented," Voldemort said with a curl of his lip.

He disliked flying broomsticks, and neither of his fused souls liked them.

Voldemort himself had invented flying spells, partly because he thought riding a broomstick was silly.

The other part of his soul felt that stopping and accelerating on such a thing was unfriendly to men; witches were fine.

Of course, he, who could fly himself, didn't need to consider these issues at all.

For the rest of the way, Harry asked all sorts of questions. It was clear that after drinking the hot drink, Harry was full of curiosity about the wizarding world again.

However, unlike Hagrid's teachings, Voldemort's imparted concepts were more direct and to the core:

"Professor Quirrell, what is Gryffindor?"

"A house. The four founders of Hogwarts each established four houses in their own names."

"Professor Quirrell, which house are you from?"

"Ravenclaw, representing wisdom."

"Then what do Gryffindor and Slytherin represent? And Hufflepuff."

"Courage, glory, and loyalty. But I prefer to describe Hufflepuff as tenacity. Each of them is a cornerstone of the magical world."

"Where will I go?"

"It should be Gryffindor. You don't lack courage, and your parents went there."

"..."

They walked and talked, and Voldemort answered all his questions until they left Diagon Alley after seeing him obtain the wand that had once been very close to him.

"Go on in, Harry. I'll see you when school starts," Voldemort said to Harry at the door of number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, County Surrey.

"Okay, Professor," Harry said, walking towards the yard, but then he suddenly stopped. "But how do I get there?"

Voldemort also suddenly froze, asking in confusion, "Hagrid didn't give you your ticket?"

"What ticket?" Harry's eyes told Voldemort he knew nothing about it.

"Uh... the ticket to Hogwarts from King's Cross Station on September 1st."

Voldemort thought for a moment and said, "Hagrid must have forgotten. I'll have him mail it to you by owl later."

"Okay, thank you, Professor. I'm so happy you could spend my birthday with me. I'm really happy today." Harry said goodbye politely. The kid was still quite cheerful.

Voldemort nodded with a smile, watching him walk into the yard.

If only the previous Voldemort hadn't killed so many people... Voldemort thought, rubbing his head.

The instant he had this thought, in the lower left corner of his vision, beneath the dim words [Darkest Hour], a new skill lit up:

[Lin Zuo Moment].