The Lion's Confusion

"Dumbledore, Quirrell is being too reckless."

In the Headmaster's office, Professor McGonagall spoke sternly, "Having two year groups attend class together, with such chaotic and disorganized lessons, what quality of teaching is there?"

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, gesturing for Professor McGonagall to have some of the biscuits on the plate, not rushing to say anything.

"Dumbledore, you need to take a stand. The semester has just begun, and it's still possible to change people," Professor McGonagall said with dissatisfaction.

"Calm down, McGonagall."

Dumbledore had to speak, but his tone was still very mild.

"How can you tell me to calm down?"

Professor McGonagall's voice lowered slightly, but she remained displeased. "Four houses, four attitudes, two teaching methods. This is just for the upper years, if..."

Her words were unfinished, but her shaking head showed Professor McGonagall's stance.

"I think he's doing a fine job, McGonagall."

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. He seemed a bit tired, but he forced himself to say, "Teaching Ravenclaw, especially the upper years, doesn't require going into too much detail, so being a bit rough is fine. Hufflepuff is the opposite; they need to be treated meticulously."

Professor McGonagall was taken aback. From that perspective, there was indeed no problem.

"But what about Slytherin and Gryffindor?" she asked, unwilling to give up.

"Slytherin is a bit special. During the interview, Quirrell mentioned the issue of Pure-blood magic being dense, so I think he's trying to tap into Slytherin's potential."

Upon hearing this, Professor McGonagall's expression immediately soured—the statement carried a strong undertone of Pure-blood supremacy.

"Hey, McGonagall, calm down."

Dumbledore had to remind Professor McGonagall, "The facts aren't discriminatory, nor does it mean he's aligned with them. I'm Pure-blood, I can understand the difference."

Although Professor McGonagall was not Pure-blood, she could understand the difference. She nodded reluctantly, but her expression remained grim.

"As for Gryffindor, we are all Gryffindors. We know what kind of professors we like, so... he's doing a good job, isn't he?"

Dumbledore asked rhetorically, but Professor McGonagall was clearly still dwelling on the previous topic.

"He's not?" Professor McGonagall asked. "I mean, he's not that person?"

"No."

Dumbledore shook his head painfully. "I once thought so, but various signs indicate he is not. So..."

"..."

Professor McGonagall also fell silent. The only sound in the room was Fawkes pecking at his feathers.

"He's here."

Dumbledore suddenly spoke, causing the silent Professor McGonagall to look up in surprise. "The castle told me he's here, but I can't find him. That's the problem that's giving me a headache."

"If it's not Quirrell, then it must be among the students? A first-year?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I don't know."

Dumbledore picked up the murky drink in front of him and took a sip. "I'm getting old, always lacking energy. I even suspected Snape for a while..."

"Perhaps you need to rest. I'm sorry for disturbing you about Quirrell's teaching." Uncharacteristically, a hint of self-reproach flickered across Professor McGonagall's face.

"You are the Deputy Headmistress; it's your responsibility. You don't need to blame yourself."

Dumbledore took another sip of the murky drink before speaking. "I think he's gotten smarter. As far as I know, that's impossible, but it seems something I don't know has happened."

Professor McGonagall nodded, her gaze sweeping over the evil-smelling book on the Headmaster's desk—Secrets of the Darkest Art. It seemed the Headmaster had been consulting it quite a bit lately.

"Are you using Potions?"

Her gaze moved away from the book and landed on the murky drink in front of Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall asked in surprise.

"Just a mild restorative. Snape can control the dosage well, so don't worry." Dumbledore waved his hand, as if unwilling to discuss the topic with Professor McGonagall.

"Is there anything I can do?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Of course."

Dumbledore said affirmatively, "You need to fulfill your duties as Deputy Headmistress, even taking on some of the Headmaster's responsibilities, just like before. You can do it."

Professor McGonagall nodded. She understood that Dumbledore was politely refusing, but she couldn't think of anything she could do in this situation.

That person was mysterious, cunning, evil, and powerful. Besides Dumbledore, no one was his match, and Professor McGonagall knew she wasn't either.

"Alright, then I won't disturb your rest, Dumbledore. You need to take care of yourself."

In her farewell, Professor McGonagall couldn't help but remind him.

"Of course, I cherish my life."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, but the weariness and exhaustion in his brows couldn't be hidden by his smile.

Third-floor office.

"I don't quite understand, Professor."

Percy frowned and said, "Slytherin won't like me. It's fine for first-years, but third-years are already integrated into Slytherin."

Voldemort nodded. He knew this, of course, but he had his own purpose—to learn a foreign language well, one needed a suitable environment, and to turn a lion into a snake was the same.

"What should I do, Professor?" Percy asked for help.

"The position of Assistant Professor itself comes with authority."

Voldemort stood up and poured himself and Percy each a glass of plain water. "What you need to do next is to be fair and just. If you are, they will have no reason not to accept you."

"But I'm from Gryffindor, and Slytherin values pure-bloods..."

Before he could finish, Voldemort interrupted, "You are also pure-blood."

"Uh..." Percy was speechless for a moment.

"Slytherin values pure-bloods, but they also worship strength and authority, so you really have nothing to worry about."

Voldemort said comfortingly, but it didn't ease Percy's mind. He was still frowning.

"What are you worried about? Tell me, maybe I can help solve it," Voldemort said again.

"I don't know how to do it."

Percy lowered his head, confused. "In the house, although everyone supported me becoming Head Boy, I could see they didn't respect my authority. They thought I was too rigid."

Voldemort nodded. This was indeed a problem.

Percy's magical talent and strength were undeniable, but when it came to applying power, he had a big issue: he was too rigid.

This had to do with his personality and the person he admired—Barty Crouch, whom he admired as the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was a decisive and meticulous figure.

But clearly, his methods wouldn't work at Hogwarts.

"I can't fundamentally change you through words, Percy, but I can give you some advice," Voldemort said after some thought.

Percy immediately looked up, his face full of anticipation as he looked at Voldemort. He had been very confused recently and had even considered looking for books on power, but he didn't know if they would be useful.

"Does Dumbledore have authority?" Voldemort asked.

"Of course, Mr. Dumbledore is the Headmaster. He has authority at Hogwarts..."

Voldemort waved his hand, interrupting him.

"I'm asking if Headmaster Dumbledore has authority in the entire Wizarding World?"

Percy blinked, then quickly shook his head. Dumbledore was just the Headmaster; his authority was at Hogwarts, not in the Wizarding World.

"But he can influence the entire Wizarding World, not just Britain, but even Europe, and even the whole world."

As Voldemort said this, a light flashed in his eyes, similar to the one in Percy's.

"Authority is only the smallest part of power," Voldemort said, guiding him. "Leading others by relying on the power granted by authority makes for the most mediocre leader."

"Then... what should one rely on?" Percy asked eagerly. "Influence? Like the Headmaster?"

"No."

Voldemort shook his head firmly, then pointed his wand at his own chest.

"It's people's hearts, Percy. Only people's hearts are the fundamental source of power."