Recruiting Second-Generation Death Eaters

"Let me share some joyous news with you all."

Dumbledore spread his arms wide in a grand gesture, then pulled his right hand back. "Quirinus Quirrell, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

Voldemort stood up and, amidst the applause of students and faculty, smiled and bowed. He saw Harry Potter clapping vigorously and saying something loudly to the person on his left and right.

As he sat down, he noticed Snape's gaze, full of unconcealed resentment.

"And Hagrid, whom you all know, has become Quirrell's Deputy Professor," Dumbledore continued his introductions.

Hagrid nervously stood up, almost knocking over his table, which drew a roar of laughter, quickly covered by applause.

"Under the leadership of Professor Quirrell and with the help of the other professors, the Maple Training Ground is ready. I believe it will bring you much enjoyment."

The students began to chatter excitedly, clearly not knowing what the Maple Training Ground was for, but Malfoy was an exception. He held his head high, proudly explaining something.

As the son of a school governor, it wasn't difficult for him to know these things, but his detestable demeanor made Voldemort wish he could just cast the Cruciatus Curse on him.

"Professor Quirrell will tell you the specific uses and operating times of the Maple Training Ground. That falls under Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Alright, then... let's eat."

With a wave of Dumbledore's hand, many dishes appeared on the dining plates: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, and so on.

Voldemort picked up his fork, selected a few items, and ate slowly, occasionally chatting with the professors beside him. They had become familiar with each other during the holiday break.

Only Snape and Trelawney seemed to dislike Voldemort. Snape's dislike stemmed from his position, while Trelawney's was instinctual. She didn't particularly like anyone, except Dumbledore.

After the meal, Dumbledore stood up again and briefed everyone on a few matters, including the Forbidden Forest, Quidditch tryouts, and the restricted area on the fourth floor.

Then, he announced some exciting news for the Prefects: "Defense Against the Dark Arts requires four teaching assistants. All Prefects can report to Professor Quirrell after escorting the new students."

The twenty-four Prefects buzzed with excitement, their eager gazes fixed on Voldemort, wishing they could participate in the selection immediately. Becoming a professor's assistant during one's school years was an incredible resume builder.

But Dumbledore wouldn't allow it, as he still had to lead everyone in singing. Voldemort hummed the song in a cheerful tone and then began to watch the performance of the Weasley twins.

Once all that was over, the new students were led away by their respective Prefects, which only required two Prefects, one male and one female, from each house.

Thus, the remaining sixteen Prefects swarmed forward.

"Don't rush, children, you all have a chance," Voldemort said, leading them toward his office. "However, I must say, the chances for the seventh and fifth-year Prefects are not high."

"Why, Professor? The seventh-years are the most experienced," a seventh-year Prefect asked.

"Because of the exams."

Voldemort explained as they walked. "The fifth-years have to deal with the Ordinary Wizarding Levels exams, which are very important. The seventh-years have the Ultimate Wizarding Levels exams, which are equally important."

They couldn't refute his words, but both the seventh-year and fifth-year Prefects held onto hope. There weren't many fifth-year Prefects present; most of them had taken the new students away.

"Alright, Robert Hilliard, come in with me. The rest of you, wait outside."

This name belonged to a sixth-year Ravenclaw Prefect, which indicated Voldemort's stance:

First, he favored students from his own house. Second, he leaned towards sixth-year Prefects.

Robert Hilliard took an excited yet nervous breath and followed Voldemort into his office.

"Sit down, Robert. There's no need to be nervous."

Voldemort gestured to a seat and poured Robert a glass of water. "Tell me your thoughts on Ravenclaw."

"Okay, Professor."

He took the water and fidgeted nervously. "But Professor, you've asked very broadly. May I know what aspect you're looking for in my opinion?"

Voldemort smiled and nodded, his face showing a look of approval.

"That's a trap, Robert. Congratulations for not falling into it."

Voldemort's words surprised Robert, but he then nodded excitedly.

"I need you to objectively evaluate our house's educational philosophy," Voldemort said after sitting down. "What kind of students does Ravenclaw aim to cultivate, or rather, what kind of people does it hope its students will become in the future?"

Robert nodded, pondered for a moment, and then began, "I think the house aims to cultivate intelligent people."

Voldemort nodded. "That's too broad. Be more specific."

"Okay, Professor."

Robert fell silent again. After a moment, he spoke, "I think the house wants us to become people who guide their lives with wisdom after graduation."

Voldemort nodded, a satisfied expression on his face, but he remained silent. He needed more substantial content, not something hollow.

"As we all know, our Head of House, Flitwick, excels at dueling," he continued.

"Yes, he was skilled at it when he taught me," Voldemort interjected, causing Robert to smile happily, his nervousness easing considerably.

"But he never seemed keen on teaching us dueling."

With his tension eased, Robert's speech quickened.

"When I was younger, I was also keen on dueling. Back then, I asked the Head of House why he didn't teach us dueling."

"Why?" Voldemort asked.

"He didn't give me an answer. He told me to find the answer myself."

Robert's speech quickened, a sign he had found his answer and completely shed his nervousness. "After a long period of study and thought, I have found the answer."

Voldemort looked at him, anticipation in his eyes.

"Because dueling isn't everything in life, and it's not the true way to fight."

Robert continued, "Use wisdom to guide your life, make long-term plans and considerations. If you consider things comprehensively enough, many people won't need to duel or fight their entire lives."

Voldemort nodded, agreeing with this.

"And once you develop the habit of dueling—I'm not saying it's bad—it will definitely make one's thinking narrow. Even after achieving success in it, they might arrogantly believe that fighting can solve all problems."

"A very good theory. You must have done some self-reflection," Voldemort said loudly.

"Yes, I've pondered the meaning of dueling," Robert replied.

"And the result?"

"The result is that it's meaningless," Robert said with a grimace. "If it were during the time the Dark Lord was around, his followers wouldn't bow first before using the Unforgivable Curses on me."

"Not necessarily."

Voldemort's words made Robert pause. "I once heard that there was a big idiot among them who really liked to duel people and would do so even with an absolute advantage."

"And the result?" Robert asked, stunned.

"The result was that he died, hahaha..."

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed, causing Robert to join in.

The sound carried outside, making many Prefects exchange confused glances. Naturally, no one could guess the reason.

"I am very satisfied with your answer. Now, please answer my next question: how many offensive and defensive spells have you mastered?"

Voldemort posed his second question, and Robert immediately began to answer earnestly.

About ten minutes later, all inquiries concluded. After instructing Robert not to reveal the content of the questions, Voldemort had him call in the next Prefect.

"I can't give you the answer now, but you did very well." Under Robert's expectant gaze, Voldemort gave this response.

Before he had interviewed everyone, he couldn't be sure who was better, but he was very satisfied with this Robert.

He had to admit, this kid made Voldemort feel like this was a good start.

Perhaps among these people, a leader for the second generation of Death Eaters could truly emerge... Voldemort thought to himself.