A powerful stream of crystal-clear water gushed from the tip of Marius Cloud's wand, wrapping itself precisely around Quirrell's turban—and more importantly, his entire rear skull—under the sharp control of Marius's level 3 mental strength.
"Worry not, Professor! You're now experiencing the all-new TideCharm Pro™, the number one solution to eliminate foul odors—trusted by thousands of faculty members across the wizarding world!"
Marius grinned as he spoke nonsense in a cheery infomercial tone while focusing intently on keeping the water flow fixed on Quirrell's head, no matter how the professor squirmed or twisted.
Just drown already... Just drown right here and save me the trouble...
Marius mumbled inwardly.
Right on cue, Quirrell's tense expression twisted into outright panic. A wave of jet-black magical energy burst from him, instantly shattering the water orb.
"ENOUGH!"
The dark aura surged violently, tearing apart the turban and revealing a hideously warped face snarling beneath it.
Marius gasped, feigning innocence: "My goodness, Professor! Your hygiene's gotten so bad your scalp's growing faces! Don't worry—I'll take care of it! Aguamenti!"
"I said that's ENOU—gurgle gurgle gurgle!"
Before Voldemort could finish his roar, another blast of water flooded his face.
If he'd had a throat to scream properly with, it would have been shredded by now from sheer frustration. This was beyond insulting.
Quirrell's expression snapped into something crueler and colder. The air thickened with murderous tension.
Marius's eyes narrowed. That presence—he recognized it instantly. This wasn't the stammering professor anymore. Voldemort himself had taken direct control.
"Reducto!"
The first curse Voldemort cast was no warning shot. It was a lethal spell meant to obliterate him.
Luckily, Marius had been prepared. He spun his wand with precise timing, diverting the destructive hex just in time. It crashed through the compartment window and vanished into the night sky.
Thankfully, this was the staff car. No students were around to witness the chaos—or be caught in it.
It was clear Voldemort was also trying not to make a scene. If he had gone all out, Marius wouldn't have stood a chance.
"Now, now, Professor," Marius said coolly, despite the sweat on his back, "attacking students seems like a serious breach of school policy—especially if you're aiming to kill. Should I report this to Professor Dumbledore when we arrive?"
"I SAID ENOUGH!" Voldemort thundered, every word dripping venom. "No more of your pointless pretending. You're the little brat who attacked me in Gringotts, aren't you!?"
Marius's smile stiffened. He stayed quiet.
"Don't bother denying it," Voldemort sneered. "Your fatal flaw was having too much talent. That kind of overwhelming magical power and mental strength doesn't exist among children. You stood out like a lighthouse in a storm."
So that's where he'd slipped up.
Marius mentally sighed. Of all the things he'd accounted for, he hadn't considered that being too powerful would blow his cover.
"Fine. My mistake. So, tell me—what do you want, Lord Voldemort?"
Marius folded his arms and smirked. "Revealing yourself like this to a student… Surely that must mean you're planning something big?"
Voldemort nearly coughed up blood.
What do you mean I revealed myself? You nearly drowned me, you little pest! I was forced to show myself!
"...Hmph. You really are a strange one," Voldemort growled, regaining a sliver of composure. "Not only do you show no fear... you even dare attack me."
Marius widened his eyes, mock-innocently. "Fear? Of you? We're on the Hogwarts Express, aren't we? What are you going to do—bite me?"
Voldemort genuinely considered whether to scream, cry, or throw Quirrell out the window and be done with it.
"You… you're not even afraid I might kill you?"
"Please. Killing me on this train?" Marius scoffed. "I'm a pure-blood heir, the only heir to my family, mind you. If I suddenly died, Hogwarts, the Ministry, and half the wizarding world would be breathing down your neck. You'd need to be a complete idiot to try something like that here."
He waved his hand dramatically. "And I don't think Lord Voldemort—possessing an idiot as he may be—would let his own IQ be dragged down with the host's, would he?"
Voldemort was past rage. He was now somewhere between "homicidal" and "ready to yeet a child out the window."
What Marius didn't show was just how tense he really was inside. His body was coiled like a spring, ready to react.
Quirrell's mental state was already weakened by the possession, while Marius's mental strength had grown significantly. If things went south, he could probably get off a focused Mind Shock spell to stun Quirrell for a second or two.
And that was all the time he'd need.
Thanks to his physical training and enhanced reflexes, he was confident he could boot Quirrell—and Voldemort with him—clean out the window.
Let's see how well the Dark Lord fares chasing a moving train on foot.
Of course, that was a last resort. Marius wasn't eager to go that far unless necessary.
"Quite the silver tongue you have, young master Cloud."
Voldemort forced himself to calm down. He wasn't going to let some brat talk circles around him—he had other ways to win.
And he wanted to plant a seed of fear before moving forward.
"I wonder," he said darkly, "if you've considered this: even if I can't touch you—for now—I can take my anger out on those close to you. Your… lesser friends. The ones without name or status to shield them."
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T/N:
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