Chapter 82: Night Wander
"What I've taught you so far are jinxes and hexes, which are dark magic that won't corrupt you. As for curses, if you wish to learn them, I can teach you those as well." Voldemort smiled happily while in Quirrell's body.
"No, thank you, Professor. Hexes and jinxes are sufficient for now." Ethan declined.
"Good. Then let's begin today's lesson. Some of this will repeat what you read in the manuscript I gave you earlier, but listen carefully. You may ask questions when I'm finished."
Ethan nodded.
"Incendio is the most widely used dark magic spell. Many so-called righteous wizards learn it for self-defense, though most end up using it only to light their fireplaces for Floo travel. Without malicious intent, it is no more powerful than a standard fire-making charm."
Voldemort brought up the incident from last semester. "You used this spell when you killed the troll, so you should understand it well. You intended to harm or kill that creature, and thus you unleashed magic capable of destroying a highly magic-resistant troll in a single blast. Tell me, has your Incendio been that powerful since then?"
Ethan recalled his recent practice and nodded.
"Yes, Professor. If I mean no harm, the spell is only as powerful as before."
Voldemort smiled softly. "But that isn't what I want. This fire spell doesn't have to be limited to such basic levels, so I've made modifications. I've incorporated principles from Meteorological Charms, allowing it to unleash greater power without needing intense malice, though it can be further enhanced when malice is present. It still can't match Fiendfyre, but it remains useful."
"Meteorological Charms?" Ethan was shocked. He'd never imagined weather magic could factor into this.
Voldemort drew his wand and traced the original spell, his modified version, and various Meteorological Charms and Dark Magic incantations in the air. He recited each one, explaining their effects.
"See? My modified spell shares their rhythm, doesn't it?"
Ethan nodded vigorously, scribbling furiously to record knowledge he normally couldn't access.
He'd scoured the library and found only the Thunderstorm Charm and the Rain Charm. But Voldemort had shown him more offensive weather charms, like the Hail Charm and the Lightning Charm.
Several other Dark curses were new to him as well, and he needed to be cautious while learning them, unsure whether they were truly curses or something else.
Most importantly, watching Voldemort modify Incendio using weather charms had inspired him.
Voldemort deserved his title as Dark Lord. He possessed a profound understanding of Dark Magic's origins, development, and evolution.
Ethan was completely immersed in this ocean of magic, forgetting just how dangerous the man before him was.
He listened to Voldemort's eloquent words, completely enthralled and hungry for knowledge.
An hour passed quickly.
Voldemort stopped the lesson, picked up his cooled tea, and took a sip.
Ethan was still copying down the slowly fading text.
"Whew!" He'd finally managed to record everything in his notebook just before the text faded completely.
"Any questions for me?"
"Yes, far too many to organize at once." Ethan looked at the seven or eight pages of notes, his mind swimming with new knowledge and questions.
"Then take your time. I'll give you ten minutes."
Ethan quickly organized his notes and began asking his most pressing questions one by one.
Half an hour later, Voldemort had answered everything, bringing the master class to a close.
Ethan stood and bowed respectfully.
"Thank you, Professor," he said with genuine gratitude.
Voldemort was stunned. Seeing the sincerity in his eyes, he laughed heartily. "Excellent! Ethan, I truly appreciate you calling me Professor."
"All right, you may go. See you next week."
"Thank you, Professor. Good night."
That evening's encounter had indeed changed Ethan's view of Voldemort.
Perhaps because his earlier application for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position had been rejected, Voldemort's obsession with becoming a professor deepened.
Quirrell, whose body he possessed, was the instructor in name only, as Voldemort's agenda kept him from ever properly teaching the class.
Now, with a student like Ethan, who genuinely treated him as a professor, Voldemort was delighted.
Once Ethan had gone, Voldemort relinquished control of the body to Quirrell.
As Quirrell felt his strength fade once more, resentment flashed across his face, followed by a scream.
"I was wrong. I shouldn't have had those thoughts. Forgive me, Master!" Quirrell begged, sobbing.
The punishment stopped, the screams ceased, but Quirrell continued to weep.
Ethan returned to his dormitory in high spirits, processing everything he had learned that day.
Now he was busier than before, learning Potions on Saturdays, studying with Voldemort on Wednesday nights, and finding time to review Dumbledore's Transfiguration notes.
He was as busy as a bee. Outside of classes, he spent every spare moment either in the library or on his way to the library.
Outwardly, he focused on his Transfiguration and Potions notes. Once the library closed, he returned to his dorm to study the Dark Arts that Voldemort had taught him.
It was time to sneak out and find the Room of Requirement. The dormitory had become unbearable. He glanced at the two other beds where his roommates were snoring and made up his mind.
His Disillusionment Charm could conceal him now that he'd experienced his second magical surge, but without an Invisibility Cloak or stealth robes, he always felt the disguise wasn't perfect, so he'd never risked it.
Now, the cramped conditions forced him to adapt.
Besides, he needed somewhere to practice what Voldemort had taught him.
The night was still young; curfew had only just begun. He would act tonight.
He packed the manuscripts into his bag, cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, and slipped quietly out of the dormitory.