"What's wrong, Professor Quirrell? Why are you suddenly sweating so much? Are you not feeling well?"
Ethan suddenly stepped closer to Quirrell. A wicked gleam flashed in his cobalt-blue eyes, reflecting his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's pale, sweaty face.
[Ask that child... ask him why he wants to learn the magic of soul separation... ask him now!]
Quirrell jolted. The furious and urgent voice in his mind struck his spine like an iron whip, making his whole body tremble.
Quirrell swallowed. He stared at the handsome boy with a concerned face in front of him but felt an inexplicable sense of horror. It was like looking at a monster wearing human skin. Although the exterior was human-like, the inside was full of incomprehensible things!
Too eerie, too strange!
Why did this boy's single sentence make his great Master so furious? What unknown secrets did this supposedly ignorant first-year student know?!
"S-soul separation magic?" Quirrell really started stuttering now, forcing a hideous smile. "Why... why are you asking about this? This is very evil Dark Magic..."
Ethan tilted his head, the wicked smile quickly flitting across his lips, leaving only pure innocence and purity.
"Evil? I just want to research living portraits, that's all. Is that very evil?" Ethan blinked his round blue eyes.
Thanks to his age and appearance, he knew this move was exceptionally effective. Particularly effective against older women. And particularly effective against men of certain professions.
Every morning when he washed up, Ethan was charmed by his own cuteness. Damn, he thought with a flicker of self-admiration. This face is too effective.
Hehe.
[Ethan has launched a Cute Attack. Do you choose to believe it?]
[> Believe]
[ Resist (Error...Garbled_Data)]
Quirrell naturally didn't see these strange things. All he saw was a pure and innocent Ethan. This gradually calmed Quirrell's previously pounding heart.
In his mind, after a long silence, a new command finally came:
[...Let's leave it at that for now.]
Voldemort instinctively felt that Ethan was toying with him. But he had no proof.
This first-year brat couldn't possibly know about "Horcruxes." Even he, the great one, had only learned about it in his upper years.
Voldemort was extremely confident. He was a being superior to all others. Other people were blundering trolls; only he was a once-in-a-century genius! To have achieved more, to know more than him at the same age?
Impossible. Absolutely impossible!
Thinking of this, Voldemort felt at ease. He even felt that his own overreaction to hearing a keyword was somewhat ridiculous.
[Since it's about painting research, assist him as best you can...]
The voice was hoarse, like the struggle of a dying person. Quirrell felt his weak Master had fallen back asleep. He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as well.
He looked up and saw Ethan staring straight at him, waiting for his answer.
Ethan: ◉ᴗ◉
"..."
Caught between a rock and a hard place. Quirrell felt like his whole being was about to fall apart.
"Th-that, Student Vincent. I'm not particularly familiar with living portraits, I need to do some research first..."
"It's fine," Ethan interrupted Quirrell's stuttering, saying cheerfully, "I know."
Quirrell: "Huh?"
You know? Then why did you come asking me?
Ethan: "First, I need to borrow two books, False Souls and True Memories and The Craft of Living Portraits, and learn the spells used within. By the way, they're in the Restricted Section. You need to write me a permission slip."
Quirrell: "O-okay..."
Sounds easy enough. It's still just teaching spells.
Ethan: "Second, I need ten bundles of unicorn tail hair, a bucket of moonstone powder, a bucket of dragon's blood, ritual mistletoe..."
Listening to Ethan list off several items like a menu, Quirrell understood. He had relaxed too soon.
Ten "bundles" of unicorn tail hair?! He had never heard of "bundle" as a unit of measurement for unicorn tail hair! Had the wizarding world's economy secretly evolved without him?!
So he was just here to stock up on supplies, wasn't he!
If not for Voldemort's orders, Quirrell would have wanted to cast a Cruciatus Curse on this arrogant brat right now. Then, thinking of the mountain that was Dumbledore above him, Quirrell became even calmer.
But he couldn't let the insult of being toyed with go unavenged.
"You want quite a few things... are they all materials needed for living portraits?" Quirrell said slowly, his tone suddenly becoming raspy. He leaned forward, looking straight into Ethan's eyes.
Legilimency!
Whoosh!
Quirrell's eyes went vacant.
Red, a sea of red.
Quirrell heard the sound of a tide rising and falling, bloody waves lapping at his feet. And above, ahead, seemingly far away yet so close, Quirrell saw a mountain of flesh. It squirmed, wailed, and constantly transformed. Countless flowing faces within it seemed twisted in extreme torment, yet also seemed to relish it.
"Ah, ah... ahahahaha!"
When Quirrell came to his senses, he realized he was on the ground, scrambling backward and laughing maniacally. And Ethan was standing aside, quietly watching him go mad.
His cobalt-blue eyes were against the light, revealing just how cold they were. Reminding Quirrell of those Muggle doctors who would cut open patients' bodies.
What had he just seen?
Merlin! Was that something a young wizard, a human, could think of?!
Since Quirrell had voluntarily become Voldemort's vessel, he rarely prayed to Merlin. But now, Quirrell couldn't help but silently chant it several times. He didn't even realize it himself.
"I assume," Ethan's polite voice sounded, making Quirrell shudder violently and look up at him in terror, "you were just performing Legilimency on me, Professor Quirrell?"
"No, no! I was just, just trying to find out about those materials!"
"Were you trying to plagiarize my creativity and inspiration?" Ethan looked at Quirrell accusingly.
Quirrell: "..."
Who wants to plagiarize your inspiration!
At this moment, Quirrell felt as if a strong man had cornered him, only to pull out a hotel room key instead of a fist. He might as well have just punched me.
But Ethan clearly had no intention of letting him go. In fact, Ethan had always wanted those who didn't understand him to use Legilimency on him. To directly see his truest thoughts, to feel his most genuine desire for art. That way, everyone could get along peacefully instead of screaming and chasing him out of the studio.
Peace and love~♡
So Ethan's expression became gentle, like a patient and guiding teacher, saying: "It's alright, Professor Quirrell. I know you suspect I'm trying to get supplies from you. How could that be a suspicion... ahem, how could that be the truth? They are indeed necessities for making living portraits."
Just that the quantity was a tiny bit excessive for error tolerance and practice.
"How about this? It seems you haven't yet understood my pursuit of art. What you just saw was my new inspiration: 'Mountain of Painful Flesh'. I'm considering fusing it with living portraits."
"Now!" Ethan suddenly stretched out his hand, pressing down on Quirrell's shoulder, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Tonight, let's discuss the topics of love, death, and art! It will be the perfect opportunity to increase my knowledge of soul magic."
"I... I don't..."
"After all, Professor Quirrell wouldn't want Headmaster Dumbledore to know that you used Legilimency on a small, pitiful, and helpless little wizard, would he?"
[Chapter Complete]
***
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