Unearthing Potential, Cultivating Vessels

"The earliest Mucus Curse was very... very complicated. It was a compound curse that could make someone suffer vi... violent diarrhea, a fever that wouldn't break, ulcerating skin..."

Quirrell's stutter was simply too severe. In less than three minutes, the students who had rarely managed to perk up again could not hold out, and began nodding off.

Wizet's attentiveness moved Quirrell, making him open up. He gave an in-depth interpretation of the Mucus Curse, with the air of someone pouring out everything he knew.

Only Wizet listened with great interest, filling an entire page with notes.

When the bell rang, Quirrell came up to Wizet, his expression uneasy, and asked in a hoarse voice, "Ho... how was it? Could you un... understand?"

"It was wonderful!" Wizet smiled in satisfaction. "This is my first time coming into contact with compound magic. Did those earlier spells all have similar characteristics?"

Quirrell smiled happily. "A wonderful as... association! No wonder Professor Flitwick and the others are always praising you."

"Would you like to know mo... more about this sort of magic? Come to my office at noon, and I'll re... recommend some books to you!"

Wizet nodded. "Of course. Then I'll be imposing on your lunch break."

"No... no trouble!" Quirrell waved a hand, smiling even more happily than before. "It's rare to meet such a stu... studious student."

He returned to his office with heavy steps, pressed his back against the door, and pain showed in his eyes.

"I have to do this... It is the Master's order..." he said hysterically. "But he is only a studious Ravenclaw, just like I once was... I'm sorry..."

"Hiss!" Quirrell sucked in a sharp breath and instinctively clutched his head. The pain made it hard for him even to breathe. This was the signal that Voldemort was summoning him.

He walked to the middle of the office and, facing the mirror, unwrapped the purple turban on his head.

The mirror reflected the back of his skull, where a terrible face had grown.

The face looked very much like a snake's. Where a nose should have been, there were only two slits, and its sinister eyes glimmered with an eerie red light.

Voldemort, who had originally attached himself to the snake's body, had transferred onto Quirrell, forming a master-servant bond that could not be defied.

Voldemort let out a cold voice like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. "Quirinus... I hope you have brought me good news this time!"

"Master..." Quirrell's body trembled, his tone utterly respectful. "Of the two boys you told me to keep an eye on, I have already invited one of them."

"Harry Potter?" The red light in Voldemort's eyes flared, then immediately dimmed a little. "No! That boy is far too mediocre... You invited Wizet Lovegood?"

"That's right! I explained the Mucus Curse today and successfully attracted his attention." Quirrell hurriedly said, "I invited him to come over at noon so I could recommend a few books to him."

"He is a Ravenclaw like you. The temptation brought by knowledge is fatal to your kind!" Voldemort laughed sinisterly.

"Very good! Quirinus, you have done very well! After all this time, you have finally truly accomplished something for me!"

"Now hurry and investigate how to enter that room on the fourth floor. Once it is done, I will give you everything you desire!"

"Thank you! My Master!" Quirrell closed his eyes, his cheeks twitching slightly. "What should I do later?"

"What was the content of your lesson today? Why did it attract his attention?"

"The Mucus Curse. I described the history of this magic. Wizet felt that since this magic is a curse, it should not be so simple."

"His instincts are very sharp!" Voldemort gave a cold laugh. "Those fools, in order to conceal the truth, used a stupid, ordinary name like Mucus Curse to cover up this curse's true name."

"The Chronic Curse! Master, you only told me about this magic yesterday." Quirrell asked in confusion, "But I don't understand. What are you planning to do with Wizet? Isn't it enough to have Harry Potter..."

"Quirinus, do not presume to guess my intentions!" Voldemort snapped harshly.

Quirrell suddenly felt as if his head were about to explode. Even his body could barely keep its balance. In an instant, cold sweat poured from him, and he collapsed to his knees.

"Master... I know I was wrong!" he hurriedly begged for mercy. "Master... what should we do?"

"Let go of everything, Quirinus..." Voldemort's voice was full of bewitching allure. "I will pour the mysteries of the Chronic Curse into you, and you will teach this magic to him!"

Quirrell had no time to answer. He tried hard to shake his head, but felt his consciousness growing more and more blurred, and could only nod with difficulty.

Dragging his heavy body, he struggled toward the chair not far away.

Countless pieces of knowledge suddenly surged in. The violent pain in his skull made him lose consciousness in an instant, and he fainted in the chair...

"His soul's resistance against me has weakened further." Voldemort laughed sinisterly. "Leaving aside his incompetence, he is indeed a qualified servant!"

He fixed his gaze on the mirror. "An Obscurus... Finding an Obscurial now is no easy task."

"I hope Quirrell can hold out a little longer, so that I may properly dig out this Obscurial's potential and make him into a suitable vessel!"

At noon, Wizet knocked on the office door.

"Come in!"

This office was on the third floor of the castle. The lighting was quite good, yet it gave off a cold, gloomy feeling.

There were not many things in the office. In the corner stood an iron cage half-covered with linen. Besides the smell of garlic, another strange, fishy odor hung in the air.

"Mr. Lovegood!" Quirrell called. "Sit down! The lesson will begin at once."

Compared with when he had been teaching in the morning, his face was as pale as paper, and his lips had no color at all, as if he had just suffered a serious illness.

"Professor Quirrell, are you all right?" Wizet asked softly. "Why don't you rest first? I can come visit another day."

"No need!" Quirrell hurriedly said, waving over a chair, which landed behind Wizet.

"I remember telling you before that I ran into several vampires and hags over the summer, and they cursed me together. I end up like this from time to time."

"It's the same in class. Too many people make me think of the scene back then, and I start stuttering without realizing it. When there are fewer people, I'm much better."

Wizet said politely, "It seems curses really are terrifying! Professor Quirrell, you should take better care of yourself."

Quirrell's body trembled, and he suddenly began stammering again. "You're the f-first student to care about me."

Wizet smiled noncommittally, took out his notebook and quill, and prepared to take notes at any time.

Quirrell did not beat around the bush either, and his speech became smooth again. "I remember you said this morning that you were interested in composite magic."

"Yes!" Wizet said with a smile. "In truth, as long as it's related to magic, I'm interested."

"That's very good. That is exactly how a Ravenclaw should be!" Quirrell forced out a kindly smile. It was somewhat stiff, as though he had not smiled like that in a very long time.

"I'll use the Chronic Curse as an example, so you can understand what counts as composite magic, and what traits this kind of magic has!"

Wizet asked, "The Chronic Curse? Is that the true name of the Mucus Curse?"

Quirrell nodded. "That's right. After its power was weakened, it was given a new name."