Hogwarts Library

"Quirrell, you eat like a troll," Flitwick squeaked. "How can you be so hungry?"

"I was hungry in the middle of the night and had nothing to eat, so I held out until now. I feel like I could swallow a cow right now," Voldemort said, chewing a meat patty with dark circles under his eyes.

"Where's your house-elf? Why didn't you have him bring you something to eat?" Flitwick asked curiously.

Voldemort was slightly taken aback, but he didn't dare show it. He quickly pretended to choke, while simultaneously summoning Quirrell in his mind.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Taking advantage of the coughing fit, he learned the relevant information from Quirrell—every professor had a dedicated house-elf serving them, and Quirrell used to have one.

"Yes, Wada," Voldemort said after taking a sip of water. "I haven't had a chance to tell him I'm back yet. I'll go find him later."

Flitwick didn't suspect anything. He just said, "You should have done that long ago."

"Indeed."

Voldemort agreed, looking ahead. He happened to see two red-haired students walk by—they looked identical, which was rare at Hogwarts.

"The Weasley twins," Flitwick said, following Voldemort's gaze. "They're a pair of mischievous children. Filch complains about them to me often."

Voldemort smiled and nodded, but his gaze deliberately fell on the parchment the two were holding—each of them was gripping one side, intently reading something on it.

"Teenagers are all mischievous, except for Ravenclaw," Voldemort said with a smile, retracting his gaze.

"Yes, hahaha. I saw the assignment you gave to the older Ravenclaw students. It's excellent; it will teach them to think."

As the head of Eagle House, Flitwick never hesitated to praise his students.

"Of course, I put some thought into it," Voldemort said, then began to focus his attention on the food. He was indeed very hungry.

All the classes for the day were for fifth-year students.

Since these students would be taking their Ordinary Wizarding Levels exam at the end of the term, Voldemort was giving them individual instruction, and his lesson plans were quite detailed.

Unlike other years, he gave the fifth-year students many practice tests to help them pass the exam. He tried to minimize essays and practical components.

This made the Defense Against the Dark Arts class for all the fifth-year students extremely boring. By the end of the day, students from all four houses were complaining:

"Studying spells? Senior, that's impossible. The professor just lectures..."

"My notebook is thirteen pages long, and every page is filled with text..."

"You'll never guess it, but Professor Quirrell spent an entire class reviewing all the first-year topics. Heaven knows, my head was spinning after the lesson..."

"Boring Professor Quirrell" was Voldemort's new nickname. Even the Ravenclaw students, known for their wisdom, were overwhelmed by his endless stream of knowledge.

After a busy day, Voldemort didn't drag his tired body to rest. Instead, after the evening class, he walked into the library on the second floor of Hogwarts.

He was a regular here; he came every day since the start of the term.

"Quirrell, what book are you looking for today?"

It was only their third meeting, but Madam Pince had a deep impression of him—not because of Quirrell, but because Voldemort had disturbed her on his first day back.

"Everything about the Repairing Charm, Madam Pince. I need your help." To save time, Voldemort chose to ask the librarian for assistance.

"Are you researching this spell?" Madam Pince asked, gesturing to an area. "It's all there. I remember a few books specifically about this spell."

Voldemort noted the location and then asked in a low voice, "Is there any relevant content in the Restricted Section? I imagine the books there would be more advanced."

Madam Pince wasn't overly surprised. Books in the Restricted Section were dangerous for students, but not as much of a threat to professors, especially those on everyday life.

"I'll need to check the catalog. There are very few restricted books on everyday life."

As she spoke, she took out a black-bound notebook from under her desk and quickly browsed through it.

While waiting, Voldemort glanced back at the luxurious library:

In the hall covered with red carpet, polished wooden tables were arranged, and students sat scattered. Behind them, rows of bookshelves stood in a dense formation.

Above the hall, dazzling starlight twinkled, resembling the night sky outside. It was a constantly changing dome.

Voldemort took a deep breath, as if he could smell the unique aroma of books—being a professor was not as good as being a librarian.

As he was daydreaming, his gaze was attracted by a small figure...

It was a younger girl with messy long brown hair and prominent front teeth. She was holding a book and walking quickly towards a desk.

The trio hasn't gathered yet... Voldemort thought, slowly retracting his gaze.

"Found it, Professor Quirrell," Madam Pince's voice rang out at the opportune moment. "In the Restricted Section, fifth row, third bookshelf. Secrets of Time. That's its name. The content of this book is said to be quite difficult."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. Secrets of Time. That was a name he liked.

"Thank you, Madam Pince," he said with a smile. After thanking her, Voldemort headed towards the bookshelf. He didn't go directly to the Restricted Section but first looked at the regular books.

Upon arriving at the designated area, he discovered that there were many books related to the Repairing Charm—a whole half bookshelf was dedicated to this topic.

Pulled out the first book: [Repairing Charm That Makes Muggles Drop Their Jaws].

Casually flipping through a few pages, Voldemort immediately put it back in its place…

This was actually a story about a Wizard who toyed with Muggles using the Repairing Charm. The synopsis also mentioned that the author of this book was briefly sent to Azkaban for this act.

Heaven help me, is this person an idiot?

Continuing to flip through the second book, he found it was still a storybook.

This one didn't toy with Muggles, but he also seemed not very bright—he treated this magic as a trick and thrived in a Muggle circus.

"What kind of people are these…"

Voldemort couldn't help but curl his lips; he was defeated by the Wizards' strong desire to perform.

The next few books were still not serious, but he endured his inner complaints and flipped through them one by one.

Finally, after a long time, some serious content appeared:

[The Messy Business of the Repairing Charm], which recorded a large number of cases where the Repairing Charm went wrong.

[Repairing Rhythm], a book detailing the Repairing Charm from the perspective of Wand movements.

[The Awkward Repairing Charm], which recorded the Repairing Charm incantations from various countries and analyzed their effects.

Voldemort didn't examine any of them closely. He just picked out the books he thought were decent, finally piling them up and carrying them towards the depths of the library.

At the end of his line of sight was a dim area—that was the Restricted Section. Students consciously avoided it; most students didn't want to go near there.

Voldemort had no psychological pressure. His fragmented soul's memories contained many messy recollections of being in the Restricted Section—he had been a regular visitor since childhood.

I wonder if my walking Horcrux's habit of entering the Restricted Section was influenced by me… Voldemort thought as he walked.