"Ah!"
Quirrell could no longer maintain the spell. Struck by Lucien's Expelliarmus, the wand in his hand flew away at once.
But Quirrell paid no attention to his wand. All he could do was collapse to his knees on the floor, clutching his head in both hands and howling in agony.
After the spell clash ended, the mad laughter in his mind gradually faded, but it still lingered.
At times it felt like needles stabbing him; at others, like blades slicing through him, tormenting Quirrell's nerves.
Watching Quirrell lie motionless on the floor, gradually falling silent, Lucien's heart skipped a beat.
What was going on?
Was this the result of that change in his wand just now?
He had heard a snickering laugh, just like when he had first obtained the wand, only clearer this time.
But Quirrell's reaction was way too extreme. It was like he'd been viciously beaten.
Why wasn't he moving or making any sound?
No way... he hadn't accidentally killed a professor, had he?
It was only Expelliarmus. He hadn't even used Avada Kedavra.
What was this supposed to be, a teaching accident?
"Professor Quirrell, are you hurt? Shall I take you to the Hospital Wing? Or I can go get Professor Snape. He's very skilled with Potions."
"Actually, never mind. I'll just call Headmaster Dumbledore. He's even more—"
"No need!"
Quirrell shot to his feet. His pale face was covered in bulging veins and beads of sweat that had yet to fade, and he forced out a pained smile.
"N-no, it's fine. I'm... I'm fine."
"Let's... let's end today's tutoring here."
Several minutes passed after Lucien left the office.
Quirrell was still kneeling on the floor.
"I-I'm sorry, Master. I... I shouldn't have disturbed your rest."
"What happened just now?"
Voldemort was not angry. Instead,