"Dumbledore, Quirrell has gone too far."
In the Headmaster's Office, Professor McGonagall said sternly, "Two year groups are being taught together, and the lessons are a chaotic mess. How can there be any quality in teaching like that?"
Dumbledore smiled and nodded, gesturing for Professor McGonagall to have a biscuit from the plate. He didn't hurry to say anything.
"Dumbledore, you need to take a stand. The term has only just begun; there's still time to replace him," Professor McGonagall said, displeased.
"Calm down, McGonagall."
Dumbledore had no choice but to speak, though his tone remained mild.
"How am I supposed to stay calm?"
Professor McGonagall lowered her voice, but she was still unhappy. "Four houses, four different approaches, two teaching methods—and that's only the older students. If..."
She didn't finish, but the slight shake of her head made her opinion clear.
"I think he's doing a good job, McGonagall."
Dumbledore rubbed his temples. He looked a little tired, but still forced himself to speak.
"Ravenclaw doesn't need lessons explained in too much detail, especially the older students, so a more blunt approach is fine. Hufflepuff is just the opposite; they need more careful attention."
Professor McGonagall paused. From that perspective, it did make sense.
"But what about Slytherin and Gryffindor?" she asked, unwilling to let it go.
"Slytherin is a little different. During the interview, Quirrell mentioned that pure-bloods have greater reserves of magic, so I think he's trying to draw out Slytherin's potential."
At that, Professor McGonagall's expression darkened. There was a strong air of Pure-blood Supremacy in those words.
"Hey, McGonagall, calm down."
Dumbledore had to remind her, "The facts aren't discrimination, nor do they mean he's one of them. I'm a pure-blood. I understand the difference."
Though Professor McGonagall wasn't a pure-blood, she understood the distinction too. She nodded reluctantly, but her expression remained troubled.
"As for Gryffindor, we're both Gryffindors. We know what sort of professor we like, so... he's doing a good job, isn't he?"
Dumbledore asked rhetorically, but Professor McGonagall was clearly still caught up in the previous subject.
"He isn't?" Professor McGonagall asked. "I mean, he isn't that person?"
"No."
Dumbledore shook his head in pain and said, "I used to think he was, but all the signs suggest he isn't, so..."
"..."
Professor McGonagall fell silent too. The only sound in the room was Fawkes pecking at his feathers.
"He's here."
Dumbledore spoke abruptly, making the silent Professor McGonagall look up in surprise. "The castle told me he's here, but I can't find him. That's what's giving me a headache."
"If it isn't Quirrell, then he 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; my mind is often sluggish. I even suspected Snape for a while..."
"Perhaps you need some rest. I'm sorry for disturbing you over Quirrell's teaching." For once, a trace of guilt crossed Professor McGonagall's face.
"You're the deputy headmistress. This is your responsibility; you don't need to feel guilty."
Dumbledore took another sip of the murky drink before speaking. "I think he's become cleverer. As far as I know, that shouldn't be possible, but it seems something has happened that I don't know about."
Professor McGonagall nodded, her eyes passing over the book on the Headmaster's desk that radiated an evil aura—Secrets of the Darkest Art. It seemed the Headmaster had been consulting it quite a bit lately.
"Are you taking Potions?"
After looking away from the book and glancing at the murky drink in front of Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall asked in surprise.
"Just a little Calming Draught. Snape can control the dose. Don't worry." Dumbledore waved a hand, as if he didn't want to discuss it with Professor McGonagall.
"Is there anything I can do?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Of course."
Dumbledore replied firmly, "You need to fulfill your duties as deputy headmistress, and even take on some of the Headmaster's responsibilities, just as before. You can do it."
Professor McGonagall nodded. She understood that Dumbledore was politely declining, but she couldn't think of anything she could do about this matter.
That person was mysterious, cunning, evil, and powerful. No one but Dumbledore could stand against him, and Professor McGonagall knew she couldn't either.
"Very well, I won't disturb your rest, Dumbledore. You should take care of yourself."
Even as she said goodbye, Professor McGonagall couldn't help reminding him.
"Of course. I value my life."
Dumbledore smiled and nodded, but the weary exhaustion in his eyes couldn't be hidden by his smile.
Third-floor office.
"I don't quite understand, Professor."
Percy furrowed his brow. "Slytherin won't like me. The first-years are all right, but the third-years have already settled into Slytherin."
Voldemort nodded. He knew that, of course, but he had his own purpose. To learn a foreign language well, one needed the right environment. Turning a lion into a snake was no different.
"What should I do, Professor?" Percy asked for help.
"The position of assistant professor comes with authority of its own."
Voldemort rose and poured a glass of plain water for himself and Percy. "All you need to do now is be fair and impartial. Then they'll have no reason not to accept you."
"But I'm a Gryffindor, and Slytherin values pure-bloods..."
Before he could finish, Voldemort cut him off. "You're a pure-blood too."
"Uh..." Percy was at a loss for words.
"Slytherin values pure-bloods, but it also admires strength and authority, so you really have nothing to worry about."
Voldemort tried to reassure him, but Percy wasn't convinced. He still looked troubled.
"If something's worrying you, tell me. Perhaps I can find a way to solve it," Voldemort said again.
"I don't know what to do."
Percy lowered his head, confused. "Everyone in the house supports me becoming a Prefect, but I can tell they don't accept my authority. They think I'm too rigid."
Voldemort nodded. That was indeed a problem.
Percy's magical talent and skill were beyond question, but he had a serious problem when it came to exercising authority: he was far too rigid.
That had to do with his personality, as well as the person he admired—Barty Crouch. He looked up to the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a decisive and meticulous man.
But clearly, that approach didn't work at Hogwarts.
"I can't change who you are with words, Percy, but I can give you some advice," Voldemort said after a moment's thought.
Percy immediately raised his head and looked at Voldemort expectantly. He had been deeply troubled lately, and had even considered looking for books on authority, but he didn't know whether they would help.
"Does Dumbledore have authority?" Voldemort asked.
"Of course. Mr. Dumbledore is the Headmaster, and at Hogwarts, he..."
Voldemort waved a hand, cutting him off.
"I'm asking whether Headmaster Dumbledore has authority throughout the Wizarding World."
Percy blinked, then quickly shook his head. Dumbledore was only the Headmaster; his authority was at Hogwarts, not in the Wizarding World.
"But he can influence the entire Wizarding World, not just England. His influence can even extend throughout Europe, and across the whole world."
As Voldemort spoke, his eyes gleamed with the same light as Percy's.
"Authority is only the smallest part of power," Voldemort said, patiently guiding him. "Relying on the power authority grants to lead others makes you the most mediocre kind of leader."
"Then... then what should I rely on?" Percy asked impatiently. "Influence? Like the Headmaster?"
"No."
Voldemort shook his head firmly, then pointed his wand at his own chest.
"The hearts of people, Percy. Only the hearts of people are the true foundation of power."
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