Douglas sighed, looking less like a prisoner about to face execution and more like a teacher utterly disappointed in an unruly student.
He said with deep regret:
"Unfortunately, no. In fact, Professor Snape himself found me quite disagreeable and did not even let me attend his advanced Potions class."
There was a trace of regret in his tone, as though he had missed a valuable learning opportunity, which he indeed had.
This answer clearly caught Voldemort by surprise.
The threatening expression on his face briefly faltered, and confusion flickered in his scarlet eyes.
That made no sense.
"Was it because you were too outstanding?"
A probing note entered Voldemort's voice as he instinctively slipped back into the role of Tom Riddle at Hogwarts, who could so easily see into people's hearts.
It was an art of conversation, a technique for manipulating people that he had long since mastered.
"During my years in exile, I too heard of the renowned Professor Holmes,"
he said slowly, each word like a carefully calculated piece of bait.
"You invented the New Wolfsbane Potion. A truly great invention, one that could bring werewolves into the light from then on."
"You flatter me, Riddle,"
Douglas replied politely to his senior.
"It was merely a little hobby of mine in Potions. I just happened to succeed."
"A hobby?"
Voldemort gave a hissing laugh that sounded almost admiring.
"Your modesty hardly matches the ability you have displayed."
"In my view, this Rebirth Potion could also be considered a masterpiece,"
he deftly steered the conversation toward the subject that concerned him most.
"The father's bone, the servant's flesh, the enemy's blood... ancient and dark, yet filled with a balance of power. Such a formula is certainly not something an ordinary wizard could devise."
He stared fixedly at Douglas, trying