Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
Quirrell was sprawled on the floor, his face pale as cold sweat dripped down in large beads.
"I… please forgive my foolishness and weakness, my great Lord."
His pained, hoarse voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum.
A cold voice echoed in his mind, bringing with it another wave of sharp, burning pain.
"That spell was one I personally created! I didn't expect a fool like you to learn it so quickly... I'll give you one more week. If you fail again, I won't hesitate to carve the spell directly into your brain!"
Quirrell trembled and nodded repeatedly.
"Yes, yes, my Lord."
The Dark Arts Voldemort had taught him was a curse that slowly eroded the soul, allowing control over the target's thoughts.
Its advantage lay in its subtlety—unless examined carefully within an hour of casting, all traces would gradually fade away.
However, the process required time, and the interval between each use could not exceed ten days—making it the perfect tool to use on that insolent, detestable boy during his weekly tutoring sessions.
But the spell was excruciatingly difficult to master, and each attempt felt like stirring his own brain while tearing at his throat.
Sensing Quirrell's deep fear, the Voldemort residing within him felt both contempt and satisfaction.
He currently lacked the strength to carry out such idle threats.
But his prestige—his aura of terror—remained undeniably powerful.
Voldemort also realized that his life force was still draining. In another two or three months, he would need to replenish it and begin restoring his strength. Perhaps the Unicorns in the Forbidden Forest…
...
Inside the small cabin,
Lucien closed the book in his hands.
Honestly, the system's reply had made him laugh, but it also put him somewhat at ease.
At least now he knew his "resistance" to the Dark Arts was extremely high. As long as he didn't use them excessively or dabble in particularly dangerous spells, the effects on him would be minimal—and not irreversible.
The Dark Arts were still a form of knowledge. Since they could be studied and mastered, Lucien saw no reason to reject them or live in fear of them.
Of course, he wouldn't allow himself to become truly obsessed with them.
After all, knowledge was meant to be wielded by people—not the other way around.
"Master, I'm back!"
Lumen appeared before Lucien in an instant.
"Inside are Mr. Newt's reply and a small barrel."
A small barrel?
Lucien had a guess. He opened his small satchel and took out the envelope along with a small purple barrel.
It was made of purple salt crystal—a material used to safely preserve the Exploding Fluid of an Erumpent.
Lucien carefully set the barrel on the ground and began reading Newt's reply.
Providing the necessary elements for plant growth wasn't difficult; with a combination of spells, alchemy, and a few potions, it could be achieved easily enough.
Lucien also studied the corrections Newt had made to his magical creature records.
This was knowledge personally imparted by the world's foremost expert on magical creatures—there was no way Lucien would overlook it.
He also noticed Newt's question about which House he belonged to and decided to mention it in his next letter.
Though it seemed the elderly professor rather hoped he was a little badger from Hufflepuff.
At the end of the letter, Newt had also included detailed notes on the properties of Erumpent Exploding Fluid, how to store it, and precautions for its use.
Lucien carefully committed the information to memory.
Erumpent Exploding Fluid was incredibly powerful—it could easily blast through or corrode most materials.
The human body stood no chance against it, and Lucien certainly didn't want to be blown to pieces and then revived by Lumen's tongue.
"Oh, right, Master. Before I left, Mr. Newt asked me what kind of magical creature I was."
"Oh? And what did he say after you answered?"
Lumen tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Hmm… Mr. Newt seemed very shocked at first. He kept saying things like, 'Is a Qilin like this?' and 'Even a mutated species couldn't…'"
"Then he told me very seriously to remind you, Master—absolutely do not reveal my existence easily, even if my appearance is quite different from other Qilins."
"He also said he would help keep the secret and would never speak of me to anyone."
Hearing Lumen's recounting, Lucien nodded.
Newt truly was a kind person, and his warning was sound.
If Lumen's abilities were as "weak" as those of native Qilins, there might not have been much to worry about.
The Qilins of this world, after all, looked more like oddly shaped deer than divine beasts.
Their ability, simply put, was to "discern loyalty and treachery"—the gift to perceive the purity of a soul and thus choose those of great virtue to become leaders in the wizarding world.
As for the extraordinary abilities Lumen possessed—such as cloud-stepping flight, pure fire, and Apparition—the native Qilins had none of those.
In Lucien's view, the self-preservation skills of those local Qilins were rather worrying.
Because of their special gift for judging people's hearts, they were often hunted by both righteous and dark wizards, yet lacked the strength to defend themselves.
"Hm, I'll thank Mr. Newt in my next letter, and you should thank him as well when you see him again."
"Did he give any other instructions?"
"In the end, Mr. Newt quietly said, 'Should I find an opportunity to visit Hogwarts?'"
That made Lucien raise an eyebrow, a faint smile curling at his lips.
Was he uneasy about Lumen's existence and wanted to confirm it himself, or had he guessed that the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts held a large Acromantula colony and wished to investigate?
Tsk, tsk—if the students at Hogwarts learned that the famous Newt Scamander was coming, they would go wild.
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was a required Hogwarts textbook, read by every young wizard.
But unlike other textbooks, Newt's book vividly brought the fascinating world of magical creatures to life, revealing a realm of wonder to countless young witches and wizards.
Both the book—and its author—were beloved throughout the wizarding world.
Hmm, but knowing Old Man Newt's social anxiety, he probably wouldn't easily show his face in front of so many people.
Lucien took out an ordinary pocket watch—the kind that simply told the time.
Click. He opened it, and after checking the time, decided it was about time to get ready for Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
...
Ding-a-ling-ling—
When the class bell rang, Lucien stepped out of the classroom, preparing to follow Quirrell to his office.
He mentally reviewed the key points from The Identification of Dark Arts once more.
At the same time, he also planned to visit Headmaster Dumbledore for afternoon tea after his private lesson.
They would chat about academic topics and everyday matters, but mainly, Lucien wanted Dumbledore to help him conduct a check—to add another layer of protection against Dark Arts curses.
"Ahem, Lucien, may I have a word?"
Hearing someone call out, Lucien turned around and saw Malfoy with his two usual cronies.
The previous class had been shared with Slytherin.
"What is it?"
Malfoy curled his lips into what he believed was a proper smile.
"Lucien, although you're a Mudbl—I mean.. Muggle-born, you're still quite exceptional. Heh, I think you're worthy of my friendship, so I'm giving you a chance to befriend a Malfoy."
After saying that, Malfoy extended his hand, clearly expecting Lucien to shake it with excitement.
Lucien looked at him calmly, a trace of concern flickering in his eyes.
What kind of nonsense was this child saying?
Did he hit his head when Harry pranked him last time? Maybe there'd been some lasting brain damage.
Ah, poor thing—probably didn't get medical treatment in time.
"Thanks, but no."
Malfoy seemed not to register the words before Lucien turned and walked away without hesitation—leaving his outstretched hand hanging awkwardly in the air.
__________
11 Advance Chaps- P@treon/DarkDevil1