Marauder's Map

"Repairing Charm~~"

Voldemort was using the Awkward Repairing Charm in awkward German, and it didn't seem to be working very well.

The Purple Sandalwood wand just gave a couple of "poofs," with some yellow-purple sparks flying out, but no complete spell was formed.

"It must be the rhythm."

Professor Flitwick frowned and said, "Try putting the emphasis on the front syllable."

Voldemort raised his wand again: "Re~pair~ing Charm~~"

"Poof poof~~"

Still no results from the casting, the wand seemed to be mockingly laughing at the two professors.

The dining students watched from afar, letting out laughter. Slytherin's was the loudest, Ravenclaw's the quietest—personally, Malfoy and the twins were equally prominent.

"Don't be like that, senior Weasley," Hermione chided with a pout. "That's our professor, we should respect him."

"Of course, Fred, would you laugh at a professor?" George asked his brother.

"Of course not, the great Professor Quirrell is working hard to learn the Repairing Charm, he'll definitely succeed... hahaha..." Fred roared with laughter, his brother chiming in.

Their words attracted Voldemort's attention. He glanced at the two but didn't care—in the books, they had slapped him before, so a little mockery was nothing.

"The syllables are wrong."

Dumbledore walked over and stopped at Voldemort's dining table. "Stretch the third syllable a bit longer, and the ending tail should be softer, like this: Repa~~ir~ing Charm~"

He spoke the incantation, gently waving the Elder Wand, and the scraps of paper in front of Voldemort immediately reformed into a blank sheet.

"I didn't expect you to be proficient in German charms, Headmaster. If I had known, I would have asked you for advice," Voldemort said, picking up the paper and tearing it, preparing to try again.

"I know many German charms. If you need anything, feel free to ask me."

Dumbledore said, his gaze fixed on Voldemort's wand, waiting for him to cast—it seemed he wanted to guide the professor he had hired.

"Repa~~ir~ing Charm~"

The incantation rolled off his tongue, and the wand instantly shot out yellow-purple light. Voldemort succeeded.

"Very good, your learning ability is strong," Dumbledore praised, glancing at the book in front of Voldemort—[The Awkward Repairing Charm].

"You're studying this charm? Are you looking for that one?" He didn't say it explicitly, but Voldemort understood his meaning.

"Yes, Headmaster, your guess was an inspiration to me," Voldemort put away his wand—in front of Dumbledore, he always felt a bit uneasy.

"A good idea, but I didn't expect you to choose a life-skill magic,"

He said with a smile, walked to his dining table, and added, "Study it well, I'm sure you'll gain something."

"I will, Headmaster,"

After Voldemort finished speaking, he sat down to eat.

During the meal, Flitwick would occasionally discuss the Repairing Charm with him, showing that he wanted to share his understanding of the spell.

Voldemort listened carefully, gaining much useful information from it.

"I really wish I could attend your classes again, Dean. I think I graduated too quickly," Voldemort said, half flattering, half sincere.

Flitwick just smiled at this, not saying much.

After dinner, they each went their separate ways to class.

Voldemort's classes today were for third and fourth-year students, the most difficult age group to teach.

First and second-years were still young, and the teaching content wasn't complicated. Sixth and seventh-years were already mature; they knew how to learn and grow.

Fifth-years were a special case; exam-oriented education was their forte.

Only third and fourth-years, at that in-between age, urgently needed improvement in both theoretical knowledge and practical skills, making them troublesome to teach.

Fortunately, he had ample preparation time during the holiday. Voldemort had prepared detailed lesson plans, which allowed him to handle everything with ease.

However, an incident in class today earned him another nickname—the most vengeful professor.

The incident occurred during the second class of the afternoon, which was for Gryffindor third and fourth-years. Voldemort was teaching the fourth-years.

Opposite him, in the Gryffindor third-year classroom, his assistant, Truman from Hufflepuff, was lecturing.

The lesson was progressing smoothly. When Voldemort had the fourth-years practice spells, he called Truman over to help the fourth-years correct their mistakes while he himself walked towards the third-year class.

"Let me see if Assistant Truman has explained it clearly to you,"

Voldemort said, beginning to briefly explain the lesson's key points. After about ten minutes and interacting with the students, he confirmed that these students had learned the necessary knowledge.

"Very good, children, start trying to get your classmates' wands. The Disarming Charm requires a lot of practice, otherwise, it's meaningless."

He said, walking into the midst of the students, seemingly about to move desks and chairs—he had done so with the fourth-years earlier.

But as he passed by the Weasley twins, he suddenly stopped and picked up a piece of parchment from their desk.

"Oh, Professor, what are you doing?"

One of the twins stood up, but Voldemort couldn't tell which one.

"I was teaching over there and saw you two studying this. Let me see what you've been up to," Voldemort said, unfolding the parchment, but there was nothing on it.

The Weasley sitting there was stifling a laugh. When Voldemort looked at him, he straightened up and said, "Professor, it's just a piece of paper. You don't think there's anything wrong with a piece of paper, do you?"

Voldemort's gaze lingered on the faces of the two brothers, seeming to want to catch them out but also appearing somewhat helpless.

It was just a blank piece of paper, and it seemed he really had no reason to punish them.

"Then I'll confiscate this paper, Weasley brothers. Don't stare blankly at a piece of parchment in class next time."

Voldemort said angrily, making him look like he was lashing out in embarrassment.

"You can't, Professor, that's our homework paper."

"Yes, Professor, if you need it, you can have this one."

"Yes, that paper has special meaning to us, we like it very much."

"We apologize, we'll be careful next time..."

The two brothers seemed a little flustered, as if the paper was very important, but Voldemort had already quickly rolled it up and tucked it into his robes.

"Special meaning? Is it a love letter without words?" Voldemort sneered. "Then it's perfect for me to practice my mending charms on. You know how useless that is for scrap paper."

The two brothers became more anxious, but Voldemort didn't care at all. He simply waved his wand, separating the desks and chairs, and then had the students practice dueling.

"He's getting revenge on you for mocking him this morning," Lee Jordan whispered to his two roommates. The Weasley brothers looked as if they had lost their parents.

"This is terrible, that was really important to us."

"Yes, we should find a way to get it back."

"Admit fault or apologize?"

"Yes, we'll try after class."

The two brothers thought of a plan and carried it out immediately after class.

But Voldemort righteously refused, saying it was punishment for not paying attention in class. However, anyone could see that he was retaliating for their mockery of him that morning.

Because of this incident, Voldemort gained another unflattering nickname, but he didn't care at all.

Compared to the Marauder's Map, what was one nickname? He'd trade it for a hundred – that was what he desperately needed, and he was willing to pay more for it.