Who let this evil dragon into Hogwarts!

Chapter 45 Late-Night Secret Talk

In Quirrell's office, the pale moonlight shone on the windowsill, casting flickering light and shadow on Quirrell's face.

Persson rubbed his wrist, watching Quirrell warily, his fingers already subtly reaching for his wand in his sleeve, ready to strike.

Why did Quirrell suddenly bring him here?

Planning to kill someone to cover it up?

Or did the fact that he had informed Dumbledore come to light?

Countless thoughts flashed through Persson's mind, but then he saw Quirrell suddenly release his grip, as if he had only just realized his rashness.

"I'm...sorry!"

He hurriedly pulled out his wand, lit the candle on the table, and the warm yellow light instantly enveloped the office, restoring the atmosphere to a friendly teacher-student conversation.

Persson released his wand. Since Quirrell chose to continue playing the role of a stutterer, it meant that his "little secret" with Dumbledore had not been exposed, and that he had come to him for another purpose.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Persson tilted his head, his tone as innocent as that of an ordinary student.

"Oh...no...nothing...it's just...what about the book I gave you this afternoon? Did you...read it?"

"Of course," Poisson nodded, a hint of anticipation and satisfaction in his eyes. "The contents of that book really opened my eyes. All sorts of powerful dark magic. I may have to spend a lot of time to fully understand them...and the defensive methods."

"Yes...yes...defense methods...I gave you this book...just hoping you...learn how to defend against dark magic...nothing else..." Quirrell kept trying to cover up, "Of course...it's best not to let Dumbledore find out...he definitely won't like it..."

"I understand, Professor. Dumbledore is a stubborn old man; he's the one who's hindered the development of Defense Against the Dark Arts over the years!"

"No...that's not what I meant..." Professor Quirrell waved his hands repeatedly, desperately trying to suppress a smile. "Anyway...don't show that book to anyone else...and don't discuss it...if you have any questions...you can ask me..."

"I will, Professor."

Persson gave a slight bow. He didn't believe that Quirrell had specifically brought him here just to say these things, so he tentatively asked, "Professor, is there anything else? If not, I'll head back to the lounge."

"Oh! Of course!" Quirrell grabbed Persson's hand again, his twitching expression as if he had been whipped.

"Perseus... I heard from Dumbledore that you were the one who dealt with that troll... You seem to know a lot about magical creatures?"

"Yes, Professor."

Persson became extremely alert, realizing that his chance to prove his worth and gain Voldemort's trust had arrived!

"Then...you must know a lot about dogs, right? Do you know how to make...a big dog obey?"

Big dog?

Cerberus?

Persson knew what Quirrell was referring to, but he wasn't going to give a direct answer. Instead, he planned to force Quirrell to reveal more information, so much so that Voldemort thought Persson might cause the operation to be exposed.

As long as Voldemort was still planning to steal the Philosopher's Stone on campus, he couldn't possibly kill anyone to cover it up.

This leaves him with only one choice—

Laposon joins the team!

Thinking of this, Persson simply spouted nonsense: "Dealing with big dogs? Easy! Dragon fruit and blueberry juice kick, one combo and any dog ​​will submit!"

"Uh..." Quirrell looked down at his little feet, then thought about the size of the three-headed dog. He felt that one kick to the chest might not be enough to cover the three heads!

"Um... is there a gentler way? The thing I need to deal with... is quite large... and has three heads... ordinary methods might not work..."

"Three heads... a three-headed dog? I've heard that three-headed dogs are very rare, and people usually use them to guard treasure vaults. Why do you want to deal with a three-headed dog?"

Persson pressed on relentlessly, and Quirrell's expression looked as if he had been whipped; Voldemort was clearly displeased with his habit of speaking recklessly.

"Of course, as a professor at Hogwarts, I believe you would not do something like coveting someone else's treasure vault."

Persson relaxed slightly, and Quirrell let out a huge sigh of relief, hurriedly explaining, "I...I have a friend...yes, a friend! Someone keeps a Cerberus in front of his house...he wants to know...how to get around the Cerberus..."

Listening to Quirrell's explanation, Persson chuckled inwardly, but outwardly he nodded in agreement and said, "Perhaps your friend could try singing."

"Sing...sing a song?"

"Yes," Persson recalled from the original text, "Cerberus loves music; you can put it to sleep by singing any song, and other instruments have a similar effect."

"Oh... music... music!" Quirrell's eyes lit up, making Persson feel a chill, as if this guy couldn't wait to hug him and kiss him.

In fact, Quirrell did have this impulse.

He'd been at Hogwarts for two months, and this was the first time he'd made any real progress. In front of his master, he finally had the courage to straighten his back a little, and he no longer had to worry about being hit with the Crucifixion Curse every now and then!

"Fool, how do you know he's not lying to you if you haven't even tried?" Voldemort's cold voice echoed in his mind, and Quirrell shuddered as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him.

Yes, no matter how smart Poisson is, he's still just a freshman.

How could he know something that even the great Dark Lord didn't know?

Maybe it's just a fairy tale I picked up somewhere, with a bit of fabrication added, just to fool him...

Thinking of this, Quirrell completely lost interest, casually waved his hand, and indicated that Persson could leave.

Watching Poison's receding figure, he laughed self-deprecatingly, feeling as if he had lost his mind, actually placing his hopes on a child.

Besides, if a child could easily overcome Dumbledore's obstacles, what would be the point of his existence?

And behind Quirrell's head.

Voldemort also stared at Perseus's retreating figure, but his thoughts were completely different from Quirrell's.

Intelligent, ambitious, and power-hungry, that's his ideal servant, not that fool Quirrell.

Quirrell has already revealed too much. If Persson wasn't lying to him and singing really could put Cerberus to a deep sleep, then he would have to consider having an open and honest talk with Persson.

From the time he robbed Gringotts until now, Quirrell's fruitless efforts have repeatedly disappointed Voldemort. If he had any other choice, he would have used a Killing Curse to clean up the wizarding world of its dregs!

And now, it seems the choice has arrived...

"No matter how clever he is, he's still just an eleven-year-old child. With a little guidance, he'll surely serve me as his master!"

Voldemort thought to himself with a sinister air, unaware that the person opposite him was thinking much the same thing.

"No matter how powerful it is, it's just a remnant soul, a creature that even has to share its brain with someone else. It thinks it can escape my grasp?"

Filled with anticipation for a bright future, Mr. Bo, after a busy day, finally lay back down on his familiar bed...