"What, what?"
Caught off guard by Silan's question, Quirrell was so startled that he reverted to his former trembling state.
Can I even say that?!
Do you know the Dark Lord is right behind my head?!
His head started hurting again.
But Silan refused to let him off, putting on an admiring expression as he continued, "You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You must be devoted to academic pursuits and eager to stand against Voldemort, right?"
"Y-you dare say his name?"
The courage of this young wizard before him genuinely terrified Quirrell.
"What's so strange about that?" Silan said indifferently. "Professor, have you forgotten? He's already dead."
"Honestly, I really doubt whether the supposedly legendary Voldemort was truly that powerful. He couldn't even deal with a baby. Potter was still alive, yet he died."
Silan looked at Quirrell with a faint smile. "Clearly, Voldemort wasn't all that impressive. If it were you, Professor, you would definitely be able to defeat him."
Stop talking, stop talking! Quirrell roared inwardly.
The Dark Lord in his head had clearly been provoked by Silan's words. His furious howls ravaged Quirrell's mind, as though they would churn his brains into pulp.
Saying something like that right in front of the Dark Lord?
And why drag me into it?!
Isn't this forcing me down a dead end?!
If Silan had not looked so admiring and impressed, Quirrell would almost have believed he was deliberately trying to harm him.
Quirrell could clearly feel cold sweat breaking out across his back, soaking through his shirt.
He could no longer maintain that assured, superior manner from before.
Forcing himself to rise from his chair, Quirrell turned around and faced away from Silan, afraid that the boy would notice the strange expression on his face.
"Mr. Prewett, you