Are You His Father?

In the following days, Zabini's entire mental state changed.

During Potions Class, he listened intently, his quill flying across the parchment as he jotted down notes wherever Professor Flitwick spoke.

The bell rang, but he was still writing. He didn't stop until he wrote the last word. Then he packed up his things and went into the library.

In his spare time, he practiced a modified version of the Stunning Spell at the Room of Requirement.

Once, twice, three times, the dummy was knocked away, bounced back, and knocked away again.

Malfoy and Nott were dumbfounded. They'd agreed to be good-for-nothings together, so why did you suddenly get all worked up?

But the two dared not slack off, not wanting to be left too far behind by Zabini and lose face, so they forced themselves to study.

The three of them went from playing cards to reading, from chatting to practicing spells, and from eating snacks to discussing Potions recipes.

Tom watched all this, a slight smirk playing on his lips; the free labor force had been successfully trained.

The ingredients were bought with their own money; he essentially took both the food and the money.

But he still decided to offer some benefits, otherwise the other party wouldn't cooperate.

He tore a page from his notebook and wrote a few more lines, this time not for Zabini, but for himself: the effects of the tonic were becoming more and more obvious.

His magic power was increasing, his body was getting stronger, his spirit was improving, and the power of the Diffindo had doubled. Even Andros said he was making rapid progress.

Harry's been acting strange lately.

He sat at the Gryffindor table, a copy of * The History of Magic * open in front of him, but he wasn't reading it. He was lost in thought. His eyes were fixed on the pages, but he wasn't absorbing a single word.

He wondered what was hidden in the Third Floor Corridor, and why Quirrell was always acting so suspiciously.

He seemed to be born with a deep sense of patriotism and concern for the people, while school professors were all a bunch of scoundrels.

He was distracted during his studies, focusing more on the question of "who is Nicolas Flamel?"

Hermione tried to persuade him several times, but found that Harry didn't take her words to heart at all. So she put aside her desire to help others and focused on improving herself.

Quirrell began to keep his promise. In Defense Against the Dark Arts class, when Tom raised his hand to answer a question, Quirrell said, "Slytherin, five points."

Tom raised his hand again, Quirrell said, "Slytherin gets five points."

Tom raised his hand again, Quirrell said, "Slytherin gets five points."

After one lesson, Slytherin gained fifteen points.

The Gryffindor students exchanged glances.

Ron whispered, "Is Quirrell crazy?" Harry didn't answer; he was looking at Quirrell, Quirrell was looking at him.

Their eyes met briefly in the air, but Quirrell looked away first.

In the weeks following Quirrell's return, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was transformed into a testing ground for biological weapons.

The unpleasant odor emanating from him was even stronger; it wasn't just the smell of garlic, but a mixture of garlic, sweat, mold, and some indescribable stench of decay.

The first thing the students did when they entered the classroom wasn't to find a seat, but to cover their noses.

Quirrell stood on the podium, his large purple headscarf wrapped tightly around his eyes, and the dark circles under his eyes looked as if he had been punched twice.

"Today's topic is the habits of the Red Cap." Quirrell's voice trembled, and his hands trembled as well.

"The Red Cap are dark creatures that like to nest in ancient battlefields or places where humans have been murdered. Their hats are stained red with human blood..."

The classroom door and windows were closed. Quirrell insisted that the windows not be opened, reasoning that "the scent of Red Cap will attract their own kind."

The entire class not only has to fail to learn anything, but also has to endure attacks from biological weapons.

Some people started coughing, some covered their noses with scarves, and some propped their textbooks up on the table to hide their faces.

Tom raised his hand.

Quirrell's hand trembled slightly. "Mr. Riddle?"

"Professor, was the Red Cap hat really dyed red with blood?"

Yes, yes.

"How was the color of your headscarf dyed?"

The whole class fell silent, and Quirrell's face turned pale. "This, this is what I bought."

"Where did you buy it? I want to buy one too, for protection against magic."

Quirrell's lips trembled. "Slytherin, one point... please don't interrupt me."

Tom smirked and leaned back in his chair.

In the following weeks, Tom racked up over 80 points from Quirrell, and Slytherin's House Points surpassed Ravenclaw's by 20.

The numbers on the scoreboard have changed; the green gem cup is now taller than the blue one.

The Slytherin students were delighted. Zabini checked the scoreboard every morning and returned with a wide smile on his face.

Malfoy sat in the corner, holding Potions book, but not reading it. He was lost in thought.

Albus Dumbledore seem to rarely show his face, but he keeps a close eye on everything that happens at school. He used his authority as headmaster to check the bonus record, and after reading it, he fell silent.

A professor added 80 points to a student's grade in one month?

If you say there's nothing fishy going on, you wouldn't believe he's under Imperius Curse.

Albus Dumbledore, then called Snape over and explained the situation.

Snape was initially quite happy; Slytherin was in the lead again, Quirrell hadn't caused any trouble, and life was easy for him.

After hearing what Dumbledore said, Snape's face instantly turned as black as the bottom of a pot.

So, Quirrell added Slytherin's points by licking his boots?

Did Tom Riddle end up with Quirrell?

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Fawkes dozed off on a perch, his red feathers gleaming a dark red in the moonlight.

"I'm going to find him." Snape said coldly, turning and walking away aggressively.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his chair, looking at the closed door.

What is Riddle doing? He is growing, growing in his own way.

It wasn't the way Albus Dumbledore wanted, it wasn't the way Snape wanted, it was his own way.

Snape blocked Tom in the corridor. He stood at the entrance to the cellar, arms crossed, his black robes trailing to the ground like a black wall.

"Riddle, come to my office."

"Close the door, "Snape said with his usual gloomy face.

What's going on between you and Quirrell?

Tom looked at him. "What? What happened?"

"Bonus points, he gave you over eighty points." Snape's voice was low, almost as if squeezed out from between his teeth. "Are you his long-lost biological father?"

Tom was displeased. "I've noticed your sarcastic remarks have gotten even better; how can you use such foul language?"

Snape's lips twitched.

"If Professor Quirrell really is my son, then I should start learning the Three Unforgivable Curses now."

Snape stared at him for three seconds. "I'm asking you, why did he give you extra points?"

Tom thought for a moment. "Actually, the reason is quite simple."

"I discovered he tried to kill Harry in that Quidditch Match and also tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, so I used those to blackmail him."

"He not only promised to give me extra points, but he also promised to give me 100 Galleon every month."

"Once we get the Philosopher's Stone, we'll even have to split the Elixir of Life and the gold made from the Philosopher's Stone equally."

A multitude of question marks appeared on Snape's forehead.