On Saturday morning, sunlight filtered through the windows of the Hufflepuff Basement Common Room, casting mottled spots of light on the floor.
Lynn was still lying sprawled on his bed, immersed in a dream of "landing a hundred-meter-long catch," with a suspicious trace of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Vaguely, he felt as if he had forgotten something.
Dazed, he rolled over, forced one eye open, fumbled for the wand on his bedside table, and gave a lazy flick in the air.
Translucent numbers materialized in the air.
'Only nine...' Lynn let out a long yawn. 'Weekend mornings are for sleeping in. Even if the sky falls, it can wait until noon...'
He pulled the duvet tight with a clear conscience, preparing to sink back into his dreams and continue his grand ambition of "never returning empty-handed" from fishing.
"Hoot hoot... Hoot!"
A somewhat urgent owl's hooting sounded by his bedside, accompanied by the fluttering of wings.
Lynn muttered impatiently, "Don't be noisy... I'm at the crucial part of my dream..."
But the owl seemed very persistent, even lightly pecking at his duvet with its beak.
Lynn finally woke up completely. He sat up irritably, rubbing his eyes as he looked toward the source of the noise.
An unfamiliar barn owl was standing on his nightstand, tilting its head as it looked at him, a letter tied to its leg.
'Wait, what?'
Lynn was bewildered.
'How did an owl find its way into the basement common room? And it even pinpointed my bed? This door-to-door delivery service is a bit too thorough, isn't it?'
"A letter for me?"
He asked the owl sleepily and confusedly.
The owl nodded and said in a somewhat complaining tone, "Yes, sign for it quickly. The one who sent it... well, they're in a very bad mood, and the atmosphere around them is terrifyingly low."
After speaking, it didn't wait for Lynn's reaction. It hopped familiarly onto the nearby table, snatched up a piece of beef jerky Lynn had left over from last night, swallowed it in a couple of bites, then flapped its wings and flew straight out through the common room passage.
"What bad mood? I haven't offended anyone, have I?"
Lynn scratched his messy bedhead and opened the letter, talking to himself.
He pulled out the parchment. On it was only a single line of text, written in slightly scrawled handwriting that seemed to suppress a burning anger:
"Mr. Lynn, it seems you have no interest in my Saturday tutoring session. Perhaps I should consider retracting the permission slip? —Professor Quirrell"
"Oh! Shit! Professor Quirrell!"
Lynn bolted out of bed, his sleepiness instantly vanishing.
He finally remembered what he had forgotten.
Learning Dark Arts with Quirrell on Saturday. Looking at the time, he was already nearly an hour late.
He hurriedly began to dress, stuffing his wand and that precious permission slip haphazardly into his bag. He didn't even have time to use "Scourgify" to tidy his bird's-nest hair before sprinting toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.
Knock, knock, knock.
Lynn panted heavily as he knocked on that familiar wooden door, which was permeated with the smell of garlic.
"Come in!"
A voice came from inside, sounding very displeased.
Lynn cautiously pushed the door open and entered.
Professor Quirrell was sitting behind his desk, not wearing his signature turban. His face was even paler than usual, and he stared at Lynn with gloomy eyes, his fingers unconsciously tapping the tabletop.
"Oh~!"
Professor Quirrell spoke in a deliberately drawn-out, sarcastic tone that instantly reminded Lynn of a certain bat-like professor.
"It seems our upright, kind, and diligent Mr. Lynn was delayed by something more important, so much so that he forgot the precious study time scheduled with his humble professor? Perhaps..."
Lynn complained wildly in his head: 'You're Professor Quirrell, not Snape! Stop acting like him, Professor!'
But he wouldn't dare say those words out loud for the life of him.
His face was immediately filled with guilt and sincerity, and his mind raced to weave an excuse: "Very sorry, Professor! I... I found some very profound and fascinating Dark Arts books in the Restricted Section yesterday.
I got so absorbed in reading that I accidentally stayed up until the early hours of the morning. I really couldn't get up this morning... I promise it won't happen again, Professor!"
This was an absolute lie.
He hadn't gone to the Restricted Section at all yesterday. He spent the whole afternoon pitting his wits against the fish in the Black Lake and losing miserably, and the evening bragging and chatting with his roommates in the common room.
Fortunately, Professor Quirrell didn't seem to have any intention of looking into it further. Perhaps he cared more about the appearance of Lynn being "obsessed with the Dark Arts."
Professor Quirrell gave a cold snort, and his expression softened slightly. "Hmm... being obsessed with learning is somewhat excusable. Don't let it happen again."
He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Today we only have 10 minutes left.
Time is tight, so I'll teach you a simple and practical little spell—the Fear Charm.
This spell can create unsettling fear and carries a certain amount of damage. It is mainly used for interference and deterrence against opponents."
What followed was a seven-minute rapid explanation and demonstration.
Professor Quirrell flicked his wand, and a thin but piercing electric snake shot from the tip, accompanied by a tooth-aching "sizzling" sound, striking a training dummy in the corner of the room.
A scorched mark was left on the surface of the dummy.
Thanks to the power of Engrave, the moment Professor Quirrell finished his demonstration, Lynn had already completely mastered the spell.
"You can try it now, on the dummy in front of you," Professor Quirrell gestured.
Lynn raised his wand and chanted the spell.
"Crack!"
An electric spark, almost identical to the one in Professor Quirrell's demonstration, shot out and accurately hit the dummy's chest, leaving a similar scorch mark. Even the piercing noise was exactly the same.
The entire process was without any hesitation, as smooth as if he had practiced it thousands of times.
A flash of hard-to-conceal surprise crossed the eyes of "Professor Quirrell" behind the desk.
Even more so, he was ecstatic in his heart: 'Look! He can master it so quickly! Even the first casting is so stable!
This is definitely not something an ordinary, kind Hufflepuff could achieve!
There must be a hidden desire for power within him! I truly didn't misjudge him!'
Lynn: Slander! He's slandering me! I'm just a well-behaved and upright little wizard who wants to learn more skills and get some free system rewards! Is it my fault I learn so fast?
"Very well. It seems you didn't lie to me; you have indeed been studying hard. Same time next week. Remember, do not be late again." He deliberately emphasized the last few words.
"Yes, Professor! Thank you, Professor!" Lynn bowed and then backed out of the office that made him feel entirely uncomfortable.
As soon as the door closed, inside the office, Professor Quirrell slumped into his chair and asked tremblingly, "Mas... Master, did you really... only teach him an ordinary Fear Charm?"
"How could that be, Quirinus? That was a variant of the Fear Charm that I have slightly 'improved.'
"It is more powerful, its visual effect is more shocking, and it's enough to satisfy the vanity of a little wizard seeking power.
But more importantly, frequent use of this spell will subtly distort his perception of magic..."
Lord Voldemort's voice was full of calculation: "As long as I continue like this, guiding him step by step with more powerful and tempting Dark Arts.
Letting him taste the sweetness of easily obtaining power, letting him get used to solving problems with fear and pain... that old fool Dumbledore.
He will soon see how the 'docile little badger' he believes in slides step by step into the abyss of darkness... When that time comes, his expression will surely be quite magnificent... Hahaha..."
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Read my other novel: Naruto: Multiverse Adventures.