"I've seen you before, once in a shop. You bowed to me."
"He actually remembers!" Dedalus Diggle shouted, looking around at everyone present. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"
The man, overly excited that Harry remembered him, accidentally knocked off his top hat.
And so, Harry shook hands over and over again.
Harry could tell their emotions were genuine, unfeigned.
If he were still his pre-transmigration self, they might have realized he wasn't all that different from other young wizards—far from the legendary "Chosen One" or "the boy who defeated the Dark Lord at one year old." The gap between their expectations and reality would be stark.
Once the fan filter shattered, such emotions might quickly fade.
But now, with his kingly aura and a charisma stat of 5, Harry fulfilled their every fantasy.
If Harry wanted, he could recruit some of these fervently loyal wizards into a mage legion right now, registering them as direct subordinates in the system.
Harry glanced at Hagrid. There was still some time before school started, so he could stay at the Leaky Cauldron for now.
With people coming and going here, it was the perfect place to recruit a few adult wizards to handle tasks for him.
Once school began, he could have them gather intelligence and resources from the outside.
At that moment, a pale young man approached, looking extremely nervous, one of his eyes twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid said. "Harry, Professor Quirrell is one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," Professor Quirrell stammered, grabbing Harry's hand. "I c-can't tell you h-how p-p-pleased I am to m-meet you."
Harry frowned.
Hogwarts was indeed a den of dragons and tigers.
A teacher harboring killing intent toward a student…
This man's hidden malice was intense, and Harry's body tensed in response.
There was a clear gap in their physical strength—Quirrell's was that of an ordinary person. At this distance, with Harry gripping his hand, if Quirrell so much as twitched a finger to attack, Harry could subdue him instantly.
But wizards fought with magic, and a great mage could cast spells with a mere thought. Harry hadn't yet tested how his divine or physical strength would fare against magical power.
He could sense two distinct magical signatures from Quirrell but couldn't gauge their exact strength.
Also, Hagrid's information was off.
Harry shouldn't have any enemies—except for Voldemort…
This man definitely wasn't Voldemort, which meant he was likely one of Voldemort's minions or admirers.
The killing intent radiating from him was strong enough to convince Harry he'd killed hundreds.
Could Quirrell himself be Voldemort? Harry thought it unlikely.
Wizards might be capable of disguise or transformation, but even at his peak, Voldemort wouldn't have dared infiltrate Hogwarts. A weakened Voldemort certainly wouldn't have the guts to face Dumbledore head-on… unless he'd lost his mind over the past decade?
No, that was unlikely. As a major villain, Voldemort's intelligence might have limits, but it wouldn't be that low.
For covert operations like this, a boss would send a lackey, not go himself.
For one of Voldemort's minions to have killed so many… Hagrid's information was wildly inaccurate.
Perhaps it was because wizards typically cast spells from a distance?
This man's killing intent felt impure—a mix of cruelty and cowardice, almost like a split personality.
"What kind of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked, staring at him and keeping a firm grip on his hand.
"D-D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," Quirrell mumbled, as if reluctant to mention it. "B-but you w-w-won't need to l-learn that, will you, M-M-Mr. Potter?"
He let out a nervous, almost manic laugh.
"Y-you're h-here to b-buy what you need, r-right? I-I'm also g-going to b-buy a n-new book on v-vampires… C-could you let go of my hand, sir?"
Harry hesitated for two seconds. Did Dumbledore know about Quirrell's odd behavior?
Probably not.
With a school full of children, if he knew, he wouldn't have let Quirrell teach.
Harry had thought Hagrid's tales of Dumbledore's extraordinary wisdom meant something special.
Apparently not. The old man had been fooled so easily.
With his enemy still lurking in the shadows, there was no rush—Harry had plenty of time. He tightened his grip slightly, and a faint Lumos mark, barely noticeable in daylight, transferred from his hand to Quirrell.
Quirrell, was it? He wouldn't escape.
Bidding farewell to the crowd shaking his hand, Harry and Hagrid passed through the bar and entered a small, walled courtyard. It held nothing but a trash can and some weeds.
Hagrid grinned at Harry.
"Didn't I tell you? You're famous. Even Professor Quirrell trembles in front of you—though, mind you, he's always trembling."
Harry rubbed his chin. "Is he always this nervous?"
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind, read loads of books when he was in school. But then he took a year off to get some hands-on experience… They say he ran into vampires in the Black Forest, and a witch caused him no end of trouble. After that, he was a different man. Scared of students, scared of his own subject… Oh, where's my umbrella?"
Vampires? A witch? More likely Voldemort. Had he been hiding in the forest for the past decade? Perhaps Voldemort hadn't truly resurrected, just barely clung to life with little fighting strength.
Harry considered following Quirrell when he next ventured into the forest. He might find Voldemort that way.
But first, he needed to prepare.
The legendary wizards of this world might not be the sharpest, but their combat prowess couldn't be underestimated.
Harry needed to train his body back to peak condition, learn more spells, gather equipment, and prepare thoroughly to avoid any missteps.
Hagrid had mentioned that wizards could Apparate, giving them far greater mobility than Harry. If he couldn't win a fight, escaping might not be an option.
At that moment, Hagrid was counting the bricks above the trash can.
"Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."
He tapped the wall three times with the tip of his umbrella.
The brick he'd touched quivered and began to move, a small hole appearing in the center. The hole grew larger and larger.
Soon, a wide archway stood before them, big enough for even Hagrid to pass through, leading to a winding, cobblestone street that stretched out of sight.
"Welcome," Hagrid said, "to Diagon Alley."
Hagrid grinned at Harry as they stepped through the archway. Harry glanced back, watching the passage narrow and revert to solid wall.
"If you didn't have a wand, could you just climb over that wall?" Harry asked.
Hagrid opened his mouth to say the wall could shift and grow taller, making it impossible for most to climb.
Then he remembered Harry's physical prowess and scratched his head. "You could probably give it a go."
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