At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 77 Quirrell's Ignorance

The office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was filled with the suffocating smell of garlic.

But Albus Dumbledore knew that beneath that pungent odor lay an even more nauseating stench—the deathly aura of cursed unicorn blood, slowly fermenting within a decaying carcass.

"Quirinas, I hope my unexpected visit didn't disturb your lesson preparation."

Dumbledore pulled out a chair and sat down, then tapped his wand lightly, and a set of exquisite silver teaware appeared out of thin air.

The rising steam from the black tea slightly dispelled the chill in the room.

"Of course not, Headmaster Dumbledore."

Professor Quirrell abruptly stood up from behind his desk, his hands nervously clasped together, his large purple headscarf appearing unusually heavy.

His eyes, always filled with terror, darted around anxiously, as if Dumbledore were pouring out some kind of poison instead of tea.

"Sit down, boy. This is just a casual chat." Dumbledore smiled gently, watching Quirrell's every move without making a sound.

"I've been thinking about what happened in the Forbidden Forest lately." Dumbledore picked up his teacup and gently blew on the surface. "A pure unicorn was cruelly hunted down. Only someone driven to utter despair, even willing to be cursed with eternal life, would drink that blood."

"You seem to have a deep knowledge of dark magic, Quirinas. What kind of 'thing' do you think would do such a thing?"

Quirrell's lips began to tremble violently.

"I—I don't know, Principal—maybe—maybe some kind of evil creature lost in the woods—" he stammered, cold sweat beading on his forehead, and even the smell of garlic seemed to intensify with his fear.

"Yes, evil creatures."

Dumbledore sighed softly, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over Quirrell's enormous hood.

Under the extreme perception of Seeking Souls, he could clearly perceive that beneath Quirrell's cowardly and panicked surface consciousness lay a bottomless brain-sealing technique.

The lingering soul lurking in the shadows was staring at Quirrell with murderous intent through the back of his head.

"What's even more worrying is that a minor accident occurred in the Forbidden Forest that evening."

Dumbledore pulled a few charred fragments from his sleeve and placed them on the table. These were remnants of prank props found at the epicenter of the explosion, corrupted by powerful dark magic.

"Clatter".

The sound of the impact made Quirrell shudder.

"Several Gryffindor students violated regulations by using prank props on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, causing a violent explosion."

Although I publicly declared it was just an illegal fireworks display —

Dumbledore stared into Quirrell's eyes, his voice low and menacing. "But Hagrid told me he sensed an incredibly terrifying dark magical energy on the scene. It was even somewhat like—the legendary Killing Curse."

Quirrell's breathing suddenly quickened. "The Killing Curse?! In—in Hogwarts?!" he screamed, his voice shrill and piercing, a mixture of excessive pretense and genuine fear. "This is—this is terrible! Headmaster! You must—you must strengthen the castle's defenses!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking, Quirinas."

Dumbledore calmly retrieved the wreckage; he had gotten the answer he wanted.

The moment the "Killing Curse" was mentioned, Quirrell's magic reacted with an extremely aggressive rebound—confirming Snape's and his deduction that Quirrell indeed possessed the ability to cast the Killing Curse.

A hungry wolf with deadly strength is no longer suitable to be kept in a conventional fence.

We must get him to take the bait as soon as possible, and then completely strangle him.

So Dumbledore threw out the bait he had prepared long ago, a bait that would drive the Dark Lord mad.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid I won't be able to personally oversee the remaining defenses." Dumbledore stood up, his tone carrying just the right amount of weariness and helplessness.

Quirrell froze, a look of disbelief flashing in his eyes: "You—you're leaving?"

"Yes. Cornelius Fudge from the Ministry of Magic just sent me an urgent letter." Dumbledore straightened his robes and sighed. "The Ministry seems to have heard something about the commotion in the Forbidden Forest. Fudge wants me to go to London first thing tomorrow morning to be questioned in person. You know him; if I don't go, he might even send an Auror to take over Hogwarts."

The air in the room seemed to freeze for a moment.

Dumbledore could clearly feel that the energy that had been dormant within Quirrell's body surged uncontrollably upon hearing the words "to London."

"This—this is terrible, Headmaster." Quirrell lowered his head, trying his best to hide the twitch at the corner of his mouth. "But please—please rest assured, we—we will take good care of the school."

"With you here, of course I feel at ease, Quirinas."

Dumbledore turned and walked toward the wooden door to his office. Just as he grasped the doorknob, he suddenly stopped, turned his back to Quirrell, and said softly, "By the way, the defenses of the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor also need to be tightened."

Although the magical traps there are extremely ancient and deadly, without me there to oversee things, who knows if those power-hungry "thieves" might take the risk?

After saying that, Dumbledore didn't look at Quirrell again, pushed open the door and walked straight out.

With a bang, the facade of the office was instantly shattered.

Quirrell's timidity and fear vanished completely. He straightened his back, breathing heavily, as if he had just unloaded a mountain.

"Master—" Quirrell whispered to the empty room in an extremely fanatical and awe-inspiring tone, "Did you hear that? That old madman is going to London tomorrow! This is our once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

The foolish old man—he thought himself a chess player, unaware that every piece he placed was paving the way for my rebirth—

Tonight, I will retrieve that stone. Any obstacle will turn into withered bones beneath my throne as I return.

"Anyone who dares to stand in my way—I will use the Avada Kedavra curse to grant them the most equal death—"

In the corridor outside the door.

Dumbledore hadn't gone far. He sensed the murderous intent emanating from inside the door.

The fish have already bitten the bait.

"Enjoy your last bit of fun, Tom." The old headmaster's voice was only audible to himself. "The basement tonight is a dead end, a dead end."

""