As Quirrell's fading mental voice echoed in his mind, Ciel stared in shock. The unfinished paper Quirrell had left him bore a startling title:
"On the Feasibility of Trolls Returning to Titan Giant Bloodlines"
Besides this title, the basic theoretical framework seemed mostly constructed, lacking only key data to fill in the gaps. Clearly, this paper was a sequel to Quirrell's unpublished troll priest research.
Making trolls revert to Titan Giants, or at least increasing their Titan Giant bloodline concentration – even he had to admire the boldness of this idea. Quirrell's academic talent was truly remarkable.
If not for encountering Voldemort, magical history might have gained a renowned master. Such a pity.
Regret and lamentation passed quickly. His attention shifted from Quirrell's paper to his final warning.
"Beware, that person?"
He showed a strange expression. It wasn't that Quirrell was being deliberately cryptic. His mental fluctuations weakened too rapidly.
After all, the troll communication spell was designed for mentally weak creatures like trolls. Using this magic to communicate with him while evading Dumbledore would strain even a healthy Quirrell tremendously, let alone in his dying state.
By the time he wanted to reveal the name, his mental fluctuations had abruptly ceased. This represented Quirinus Quirrell's final trace in the world vanishing, leaving him only with mysteries.
"Who was Quirrell warning me about?"
Various guesses flashed through his mind. Most likely, he was warning about Voldemort. But according to Dumbledore, Voldemort's soul had already escaped Hogwarts, and in the process, Voldemort had taken several soul-destroying spells from Dumbledore.
Though Horcruxes prevented complete death, he should have lost most of his power, lurking in shadows like in the original story until faithful servants found him again, planning the Triwizard Cup incident for his successful return.
During these years, Voldemort should remain extremely weak, unable to appear in the magical world. But if Quirrell's warning referred to Voldemort, that implied he believed Voldemort could still threaten Hogwarts?
This made Ciel frown, a headache building. Was Voldemort using misdirection? What if the escaping black smoke wasn't his true soul, but his real soul remained in Hogwarts, playing a game of hiding in plain sight?
This wasn't impossible. Voldemort's soul research was unmatched in the magical world. Even if Dumbledore's strength exceeded his, being tricked by clever schemes wasn't impossible.
Perhaps Voldemort had also prepared contingencies during the Forbidden Forest trial preparation, like potions for rapid power recovery or other means.
Of course, Quirrell's warning might refer to others. Like Harry? Harry's strange connection with Voldemort was extremely dangerous before he could use Occlumency.
In the original, Voldemort not only transmitted false information through this connection to plan the Department of Mysteries battle but even directly possessed Harry during that conflict. Even Dumbledore couldn't prevent this.
If not for Harry's extreme grief over Sirius's death closing his mental connection to Voldemort, the battle's outcome would have been uncertain.
Though the previous Voldemort couldn't match his peak strength during the Department of Mysteries battle, he was far from the powerless state in the original Philosopher's Stone finale. He had recovered considerable strength then.
Harry was much more naive than during the Department of Mysteries. The possibility of Voldemort's soul lurking and possessing Harry couldn't be ruled out.
He also hadn't forgotten another person, Ron Weasley. Since potentially being corrupted by temple power, Ron's behaviour had become increasingly strange.
Besides visible magical improvement, he remembered Ron's intense hostility toward him during the Forbidden Forest trial. Quirrell had also undergone Quintaped transformation.
These evil monsters had strange connections to Delia Island's temple. If he could sense something wrong with Ron and warn him, that would make sense.
Various confusing speculations swirled through his mind. "Who could it be?"
Meanwhile, in a Gryffindor dormitory, young wizards slept deeply. They'd all been hit with Memory Charms to forget those terrible scenes. The Forbidden Forest trial's events were too traumatic for young wizards.
The Memory Charm's side effect was extended sleep, but even sleeping, several young wizards' faces occasionally showed fear and terror. Clearly, fears buried in subconsciousness weren't easily erased even by Memory Charms.
Now, in the quiet dormitory, sounds came from a corner: "Squeak, squeak. Eek."
Rodent calls and cage-rattling sounds. A grey rat looked aged, its fur balding, missing one paw. This was the Weasley family pet rat of over ten years, Scabbers.
This year it had been entrusted to newly enrolled Ron Weasley. Of course, no one yet knew this rat's true identity: Peter Pettigrew.
Clang. Clang.
Peter Pettigrew frantically rattled his cage, emitting sharp squeaks. He was using this method to vent his madness and frustration.
Eleven years, eleven whole years! Eleven years ago, he'd betrayed the Potters, expecting to benefit from serving the Dark Lord. But the Dark Lord was defeated by a baby?
This made his betrayal a complete joke. Not only did he gain nothing, but he could only fake death and use his Animagus form to become a damned rat, playing pet in the Weasley household.
Such days had lasted eleven muddy years. If not for occasionally sneaking out to briefly resume human form, Peter Pettigrew would have forgotten he was still a wizard.
Supporting him through day after day was one thought: The Dark Lord would eventually return. He was a contributor. If he endured, good days would come!
When Harry's group discussed stopping villains from stealing the Philosopher's Stone, no one was more excited than Peter Pettigrew. After eleven years, he'd finally received news of the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord would definitely obtain the Stone and return. Soon he could escape this situation and openly "revive" as Peter Pettigrew.
Especially when thunderous sounds came from the Forbidden Forest and the castle fell into unprecedented chaos, Peter Pettigrew laughed with joy.
But now, all his hopes had crashed. The great Dark Lord had actually failed? How much longer must he hide as a rat? When would such days end?!
Peter Pettigrew frantically battered his cage, squeaking curses at everything he remembered. He also prayed: "Let him return! Let the Dark Lord return! I'll pay any price!"
Just as Peter Pettigrew broke down in despair, a weak, cold voice echoed in his mind:
"Oh, such thoughts truly delight me. Good to know that besides some loyal few in Azkaban, in this corner of the magical world, there's still such a pitiful creature so faithful to me."
Hearing this voice, Peter Pettigrew's eyes widened in terror, cowering in his cage corner. "Who? Who's speaking? Where are you?!"
The voice carried contempt, echoing in his mind again: "Look at your frightened state. What a complete wretch. Easy to imagine your school days, cowering, desperately finding groups to join, humbly begging acceptance just to have strong protectors nearby."
Peter Pettigrew's body trembled. "Stop talking."
But the voice continued self-indulgently: "Of course, creatures like you radiate mockery and humiliation. Even joining groups, you're just entertainment for mockery. Anyone can tease you, regardless of your feelings."
"Even some despised outcasts can joke at your expense. Good moods bring you pleasant faces. Bad moods bring scolding. You're the lowest existence, no status, no dignity, just like your Animagus form."
"When you and friends completed Animagus transformations, what did they say? I needn't read your thoughts to know. They were laughing, unsurprised, patting your shoulder while laughing until their stomachs hurt: 'Hey, Peter, your Animagus really suits you.' Am I right..."
Before finishing, Peter Pettigrew nearly collapsed, screaming madly for the voice to leave his mind. But the voice continued slowly, methodically digging out all his psychology, the dirtiest, most shameful, angriest, and most insane parts.
Peter Pettigrew now felt only terror. Everything about him seemed exposed before this voice.
"Please, stop. Stop, or else, or else..."
The voice pressed step by step: "Or else what?"
Peter Pettigrew suddenly let out his most insane shriek yet. Saliva flew from his mouth. Like hitting rock bottom and bouncing back, his twisted psyche erupted with power like on the betrayal night.
"Or else I'll kill you!"
Suddenly, laughter echoed in Peter Pettigrew's mind. "Yes, yes, exactly like this. See, Peter, how angry and twisted you are. But that's fine; follow me, and you needn't suppress yourself."
"Vent anger, indulge cruelty. Even a rat can cause a plague, killing everyone. So what will you be? A cowering rat here, or something that strikes fear?"
Peter Pettigrew's breathing became extremely rapid. No need to ask; he already knew who this voice was.
"You're the Dark Lord."
The voice laughed mockingly: "Still unwilling to face your heart? You have one chance to change your address."
Peter Pettigrew prostrated himself: "Master... Master."
His voice trembled: "What can I do for you?"
Voldemort said with satisfaction: "Good. You're more loyal than I thought. But for now, do nothing. Hiding in the castle while fooling Dumbledore isn't easy. I've lost too much power."
"But that's fine, Peter. Your heart's darkness exceeds even Quirrell's. That genius only suffered some grievances; how much darkness could that create? But your heart holds decades of suppression and rage, enough to slowly restore some of my strength."
"While I recover, stay with Ron Weasley. This Weasley child has mysterious powers indeed."
Voldemort's voice carried deep, cold meaning: "Moreover, his relationship with Harry Potter can be quite useful. This time, I can lurk very long. I'll figure out exactly how to deal with Harry Potter."
"And that little badger who ruined my plans..."
But soon, Voldemort's voice weakened. His price this time was enormous, almost returning to his Albanian forest state before meeting Quirrell. Without parasitising Peter Pettigrew and feeding on his accumulated negative emotions, he'd quickly become a shadow again.
Now he must lurk for a very long time. But that was fine; he had opportunities. Every passing moment aged Dumbledore further, while he remained forever strong. When Dumbledore weakened enough, who in the magical world could stop him?
Harry Potter's tricks, eventually, he'd understand them completely.
Meanwhile, Ciel had refused Dumbledore's offer to escort him to the Hufflepuff common room, instead coming to his greenhouse. He wasn't truly traumatised by bloody scenes, as Dumbledore thought.
Tea drinking could wait. Moreover, for emotional recovery, farming was more effective for him.
Looking at his long-absent greenhouse, his thoughts, scattered by Quirrell's warning, completely cleared. Whatever Quirrell was warning about, since he couldn't guess, why waste mental energy?
Short-term, nothing could run wild at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's nerves were definitely stretched taut, burning with fury. This was evident from his methods against Voldemort's escape.
In the original, Dumbledore used no intercepting methods, but this time he used several soul-destroying curses. Didn't Dumbledore know Voldemort had special methods making him nearly immortal?
He definitely knew but still acted, simply because he was truly enraged. Even unable to kill Voldemort, he wanted Voldemort to suffer.
If any demons dared emerge at Hogwarts now, he would admire their courage. So brave. Wasn't living good?
So during this time, he needn't overthink. Seize this rare peaceful time for planting. Future events were unknowable. Only the present could be grasped!
Soon after, he hurriedly entered his long-absent greenhouse. Upon entering, deep ocean-blue radiance met his eyes. He instinctively looked over, seeing clusters of deep blue blood jade swaying.
Above them, bright, full reward orbs seemed to echo with deep sea wave sounds. When his gaze fell upon them, he took a deep breath.
These were the blood jade infused with North Sea Kraken blood, only one step from maturity. Using three magical creature blood types for harmony, plus the North Sea Kraken, an extremely powerful existence far exceeding level 5X, this blood jade group's rewards far surpassed previous groups.
Platinum-level limb regeneration ability. Gold-level smoke breath ability. Silver-level whirlpool ability. All related to the North Sea Kraken.
The first two greatly increased his survival ability. For the last whirlpool ability, he remembered the whirlpool summoned by ancient magic during his underwater battle with the North Sea Kraken. That power was extraordinary.
Without legendary strength sublimation, he'd have reached his limit. He lacked powerful area attack abilities. Even if whirlpools only worked in water, they'd be important supplementary methods.
At sufficient levels, perhaps his imitation whirlpool could exceed the genuine North Sea Kraken's!
Now he had an idea. His post-sublimation blood greatly benefited blood jade growth stages. But then, only legendary life had undergone sublimation; legendary strength hadn't yet.
Each legendary ability sublimation meant his life level slightly improved. Now, perhaps his blood's effects were stronger than before?
Simultaneously, his gaze fell on legendary strength's sublimation trait, Indomitable Power. This trait let him boost strength another level when nearing limits, reaching legendary strength's second sublimation level.
He had experienced this tremendous power. Without exaggeration, in pure brute force, few magical world creatures could match him. Perhaps only ancient, special beings like the North Sea Kraken qualified to compete with him.
In this state, his life level was temporarily elevated further. "If I use blood from this state to water this nearly mature blood jade group, what would happen?"
His eyes burnt with fervour. "Could it elevate reward levels slightly?"
Originally, this blood jade group's highest reward was platinum-level. He estimated that even harvesting all reward orbs would barely reach the platinum-diamond advancement threshold. Crossing to diamond level was still difficult.
After all, this qualitative change was much greater than gold-to-platinum. But if reward levels could be slightly elevated, he might gain diamond-level limb regeneration ability.
He also recalled the transformed Aurors from the Forbidden Forest trial. Forget the elite Auror Quintaped, even ordinary Auror Quintapeds were superior opponents in pure magical combat. Much less top wizards like Dumbledore and Voldemort.
The gap remained vast as heaven and earth. This time, he'd earned Voldemort's hatred. When opportunity came, Voldemort would unhesitatingly try killing him.
Without seizing every chance to improve, should he expect enemy mercy in life-or-death combat? No real-life danger, just reaching a near-limit state, might dramatically increase gains. Others would beg for such opportunities!
Taking a deep breath, his eyes showed resolve. Next moment, his wand moved like a blade. The fatal Sectumsempra struck his own body, cutting flesh.
Instantly, severe pain hit. Blood flowed like springs. But his expression remained unchanged. Not enough. This fatal injury for ordinary people was like a small knife cut for him. Far from reaching limits. But if insufficient, he'd continue!
Then his wand moved continuously without pause. Half an hour later, he looked like he'd endured slow torture. His whole body revealed white bone everywhere. But even so, he was far from his limit.
Occlumency operated as his gaze remained unwavering, continuing such cruel self-treatment. Another half hour later, familiar vision-blurring sensations emerged. Even powerful life couldn't support massive bleeding wounds everywhere.
But with limits came surging mighty strength. Now, omnipotent feelings again filled his heart. Briefly, he reached legendary strength's second sublimation level.
He didn't waste this time bought with immense suffering. From nearly depleted blood vessels, he squeezed out blood mist enveloping the deep blue blood jade.
This blood mist seemed to radiate majesty, no longer entirely mortal. Soon after, blood mist penetrated the deep blue blood jade. In his blurred vision, he saw reward orbs above the blood jade begin violently pulsing.
Then reward orbs suddenly expanded. Before his eyes appeared system notifications:
[Due to powerful legendary blood influence, blood jade reward levels have improved.]
Then limb regeneration (Platinum), smoke breath (Gold), whirlpool (Silver) – this reward information blazed with unprecedented brilliance.
When brightness faded, what appeared before him was limb regeneration ability between platinum and diamond levels, plus platinum-level smoke breath and gold-level whirlpool!
He exhaled in relief, smiling. Then, as he raised his arm and reached out to touch, orbs of light rushed toward him instantly!