Hogwarts: Voldemort, don't stop me from studying!

The red-haired wizard was incredibly talkative, not the type to keep secrets; and he had certainly known Professor Morrie for much longer, so why would Wade ask him to keep secrets for him?

Let's move the portrait to a different location first... and then make further plans.

……

Terence Murray finally finished teaching his seventh-grade class, then stormed off with his lesson plan in hand, leaving behind a few students looking at each other like quails, their expressions dejected as if they had just weathered a storm.

What do you mean by "first-graders are better than you"? Do first-graders even know what alchemy is? Do they know how to write "0" in runes?

They were unconvinced, but under Professor Morrie's reprimand, no one dared to refute him; they could only lower their heads and say meekly, "Yes, yes, you are right."

Professor Morrie was even angrier.

After meeting Vader, he became increasingly dissatisfied with his carefully selected students; upon reviewing their previous alchemical works, he grew even more discontent, ultimately assigning them five times the usual amount of homework, and still felt that these students were having too easy a time.

Professor Morrie sulked as he returned to his office, when he heard a warm voice from afar: "How did today's class go, Professor Morrie? The young wizards must have learned a lot!"

It's hard for anyone to remain truly indifferent to such enthusiasm. Professor Morrie couldn't help but smile: "Oh, Griffiths!"

“Yes, who else could it be but me?” Griffiths said.

Professor Morrie couldn't help but stand in the corridor and complain to him about his student: "—Not only is he not as smart as others, but he's also not as diligent. What's the point of learning alchemy? He might as well be a decoration in the Ministry of Magic!"

"So you've taken a liking to that little wizard?" Griffiths asked with a smile, leaning over the picture frame.

Professor Morrie was silent for a moment, then suddenly sighed.

“Griffiths, genius wizards often show their extraordinary talent from a young age, attracting everyone’s attention as soon as they enter school. But talented people always yearn to learn those difficult and dangerous magics, to master more powerful forces, and to pursue greater benefits, but few are willing to settle down and study alchemy.”

"But in my opinion, what good is mastering the most dangerous forbidden magic in the world? Look at those who were once famous! Some fell like meteors, some became infamous dark lords, and some, despite their great fame, ended up with nothing! The more powerful they are, the more death and slaughter they bring to the world!"

"The real thing that can bring change to the wizarding world and happiness to people should be alchemy! Only by constantly learning from Muggles, innovating technology, and improving alchemical products can the wizarding world develop better, and only then... only then can we prevent wizards from being wiped out by Muggles."

"But over the years... although I have made some achievements and introduced some products invented by Muggles into the magical world, I feel like a baby learning to walk. The more I try to catch up with the giants in front of me, the more I find that the gap between us is so huge that it is despairing... and this gap is getting bigger every moment."

"And what about my students? All they think about is inventing some wildly popular magical item and making a lot of money. That's all they think about—"

“But that child is different, isn’t he?” Griffiths suddenly asked.

“Yes—” Professor Morrie smiled, “even though he is only eleven years old.”

Chapter 37 Quidditch

Vader had no idea that Professor Morrie had placed such high hopes on him after only one meeting. He was simply delighted that his alchemical studies, which had been like groping in the dark, were now finally receiving professional guidance.

Back in the auditorium, all four long tables were empty, with only a few students who had slept in late eating their breakfast at a leisurely pace. It was Sunday, and most students didn't get up early, so breakfast time was extended by half an hour.

Wade casually grabbed two sandwiches and saw West Moore, the sixth-year prefect of Ravenclaw, at the end of the long table. He went over and sat down next to him. "Good morning, West."

"Good morning, Wade," West said lazily. "It's rare to see you sleep in."

Wade leaned forward, getting closer: "West, do you know who the alchemy professor at the school is?"

“Of course, it’s Professor Terence Murray,” West said. “I enrolled in his advanced class this year—why are you asking?”

“Because I’m very interested in alchemy, I wanted to learn about it in advance.” Wade didn’t mention his chance encounter that morning, but instead asked, “Who is Professor Morrie? I don’t think I heard anyone mention him when the freshmen enrolled.”

“Of course,” West said matter-of-factly. “Professor Morrie is never at school. You won’t see him at freshman orientation or Halloween party.” “He’s a renowned alchemist, said to be second only to Nicolas Flamel in alchemy—of course, everyone agrees that Nicolas Flamel is the greatest alchemist of our time, and there are at least five or six people who are called ‘the second Nicolas Flamel.’ But Professor Morrie isn’t the kind of person who seeks fame; he really has something to offer.”

West suddenly moved closer, lowering his voice with longing, and said, "Did you know? Professor Morrie even has shares in Nimbus Broom Company and Wizard Radio, is a guest of the famous singer Setina Warbeck, and has collaborated with the Ministries of Magic in various countries, participating in the renovation of at least three Ministries. Just this past Halloween, he was in France attending the Carcassonne Alchemy Conference, an invitation only received by the most elite alchemists."

“So, for someone as busy as him—” West regained his normal voice, “it’s already a miracle that he can make time to teach us every week. He can’t possibly live on campus like other professors, and he almost never eats in the Great Hall. But starting to learn alchemy now is a very wise choice for you. That way, when you officially begin studying under Professor Morrie in your sixth year, you’ll definitely make a name for yourself, and maybe he’ll even take you on as a real apprentice, propelling you straight to the top!”

"What do you mean by instant success?" West's friend Benson suddenly said, appearing out of nowhere with messy hair and toothpaste residue on his face. He grabbed a pie from the table and, without waiting for West's reply, urged, "Let's hurry up, or we won't get a good spot."

"Wait!" West took out his wand and cast a Cleanse on him before saying, "What's the rush? The Gryffindor and Slytherin match doesn't start for another half hour! Besides, they're flying around, so it doesn't matter where you sit."

“How can it be the same? If there are only seats left behind the pillars, we won’t be able to see the exciting scenes! And I don’t want to sit with Slytherin…” Benson muttered, pulling West along as they strode toward the pitch.

West turned and called out, "Well then, Wade, you'd better hurry up too—"

Before he could finish speaking, he was dragged out of the auditorium.

Wade then realized that the reason the Great Hall was so empty wasn't because many students were sleeping in, but because most people had gone to the Quidditch pitch. So much had happened since last night that he had completely forgotten the first Quidditch match was today.

After Benson urged West to leave, the few remaining students in the Great Hall seemed to realize the urgency of the situation and hurriedly ran out. Wade finished the cup of hot water that had appeared out of nowhere in front of him before heading towards the Quidditch pitch.

Almost the entire student body had come here, and many were carrying binoculars to get a better view of the match. The stands were packed to capacity, with seats rising in tiers to almost touching the ceiling. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students mingled with Gryffindors, while Slytherins huddled together in their own groups.

At the very top row, Gryffindor students hung a huge banner with the words "Potter Will Win" flashing in different colors, and someone had even drawn a lifelike lion on it.

The players from both teams filed out of the locker room, and the students throughout the stadium were shouting and clapping. Although there were only a few hundred people, it seemed as if they were in a stadium with the energy of ten thousand. The players were like NBA stars, receiving encouragement and cheers from their respective colleges.

Wade first climbed to the top tier of the stands and quickly spotted his target—several professors who had come to watch the game were clustered in one area, probably not wanting to be crowded with the students. Professor Snape, in particular, was easy to find, as he resembled a black raven.

Wade soon spotted Quirrell—he was very close to Professor Snape, wearing a large scarf around his head, staring intently at Harry Potter riding on his broomstick, his pale face flushed as if he too were caught up in the enthusiastic atmosphere.

With Mrs. Hooch's whistle, both teams of players soared into the sky, instantly becoming tiny black dots. The students in the stands almost instinctively stood up, craning their necks to look up, trying to identify the players, and occasionally letting out gasps of surprise in sync with the action.

Wade squeezed his way through the crowd, his ears ringing with the passionate commentary of Gryffindor student Lee Jordan: "Flint didn't score! Gryffindor's goalkeeper, Wood, made a brilliant tackle to intercept the ball—"

As the players from both teams were attacking and defending back and forth, Wade had already squeezed his way to the vicinity of the stands where the professors were. Then, with the students on both sides providing cover, he quietly extended his wand and quickly waved and flicked it!

Quirrell was applauding Gryffindor's goal, smiling along with the professors beside him, completely ignoring Snape's sullen face not far away.

Just as he was secretly preparing to cast a spell on Harry Potter's broom, his body suddenly lunged forward, rolling uncontrollably down the stands, even knocking over several students.

It looks exactly like Professor Quirrell got so excited while watching the game that he accidentally fell.

The crowd hurriedly helped them up, and they saw Quirrell covering his nose with two streams of blood flowing down his face.

"How are you, Professor Quirrell?" Professor Sprout asked with concern.

At the same time, Lee Jordan's ecstatic voice rang out—

"Harry Potter caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins by 170 to 20! What a great victory! The great Harry Potter! He beat the Slytherin team on his first Seeker role!"

With his face covered in blood, Quirrell abruptly turned his head, staring blankly at the celebrating Gryffindor team, completely forgetting to hide his suddenly grim expression. Fortunately, the crowd was cheering and jumping for joy, and almost no one noticed his change in expression.

The word "almost" is used because Professor Snape, whose face was equally ashen, was staring at him with a gloomy expression.

Behind Quirrell, separated by several walls of people, Vader quietly withdrew his wand. He glanced at Quirrell one last time before mingling with the excited students and returning to the castle.

Chapter 38 Learning to Understand and Control

Ever since he overheard Quirrell's conversation with the Voldemort character, Wade stopped going to those secluded, deserted corners. When he didn't have classes, he spent most of his time in the Umbrella House. Fortunately, Michael's enthusiasm for Quidditch had finally cooled down—probably because Ravenclaw had lost to Hufflepuff in a match, and two students had been injured, making Quidditch seem less interesting.

During the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Vader paid close attention to Quirrell. When facing his students, Professor Quirrell remained the same timid, cowardly, and pitiful Quirrell. When a mischievous student asked about the fall in the stands, he could only awkwardly stammer, "I—I didn't notice—it seemed—it seemed—someone pushed me—"

The students all looked incredulous—which student would dare to play a prank on the professor? They all thought Quirrell must have been too excited and lost his balance, but was too embarrassed to admit it.

Of course, no one would suspect Wade of this. In everyone's eyes, he had always been the epitome of a good student—respectful to professors, diligent in his studies, never causing trouble, a typical Ravenclaw.

After class, Padma quickly packed her bag and ran over excitedly, asking, "Want to go to the umbrella house to do my homework?"

Quirrell's teaching skills aren't great, but his ability to assign homework is almost on par with Professor Snape's. He always has papers that are over a foot long, which would give even Ravenclaw students a headache.

However, after studying at the Umbrella House for a while, Padma felt as if she had mastered the secret to writing papers, and even enjoyed it. Perhaps it was because after quickly finishing her assignments, seeing her classmates complaining about how much homework they had, how difficult it was, and how worried they were, gave her a great sense of superiority.

Wade had seen her chatting with people in the auditorium more than once—

How much homework do you have left?

"Huh? You still haven't finished writing this much? I finished my paper in just forty minutes yesterday. It seemed pretty easy. How come you haven't even written the introduction? Were you not paying attention in class?"

After a few times, no one paid any attention to her anymore, and Padma always stayed with her sister. But judging from Parvati's expression, the reason she tolerated Padma's showing off was so that she could "reference" her homework.

Wade wanted to persuade her to stop being so Versailles-like, but Michael stared intently at Padma's smile on the other end of the long table and said, "Don't you think she's adorable? It's like her face is screaming 'Am I amazing?' and 'Come on, praise me!'"

He couldn't help but laugh: "Both stupid and clever—like a little kid."

Okay then.

Wade swallowed the words he was about to say.

He wondered if he was too old-fashioned and too realistic in his thinking, which was why he couldn't appreciate the cuteness of a little girl's silly side.

Padma was excitedly looking forward to going to the Umbrella House, but behind her, Michael was winking and giving Wade a knowing look.

Wade glanced over there, then looked back and said, "You guys go ahead, I have some questions to ask Professor Flitwick."

Michael was overjoyed, gave a thumbs-up and then bent it twice to express his gratitude.

Padma was a little disappointed: "--Okay."

The two of them left together, and Wade packed his things and headed up to the seventh floor.

He wasn't deliberately creating opportunities for Michael; he genuinely needed to speak with Professor Flitwick.

Professor Flitwick's office was on the seventh floor, and students rarely climbed such a high floor, so it was very quiet. In the long corridor, only the portrait occasionally seemed to murmur.

Speaking of which, Wied had never seen another portrait as lively as Griffiths'. Most of the portraits in the castle were just stretching or turning their heads, and some he never saw leave their portraits.

For example, Miss Claudia.

Vader arrived at an oak door with an eagle carved on it. Seeing Vader, the eagle flapped its wings, as if speaking to itself, "Vade Grey has come to visit."

A moment later, it said, "Entry permitted."

The oak door slid open, and Wade went inside.

Professor Flitwick's office was styled exactly like the Ravenclaw Tower—an arched structure with thirteen windows offering views of the Ravenclaw Tower and the Owl Tower. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting dappled patterns on the floor.

Most of the furniture in the room was miniature, just the right height for Professor Flitwick. The bookshelves, however, were exceptionally magnificent, with hundreds of books stacked from floor to ceiling. There were also thick stacks of parchment on the floor, most of which were notes compiled by Professor Flitwick himself. He would sometimes lend them to his favorite students, and Wade currently had two of them in his bag.