Hogwarts: I am Voldemort.

Chapter 15 Dumbledore's Consultation

"Professor McGonagall, long time no see."

Coming out of the fireplace surrounded by green flames, Voldemort forced a smile and said - he had decided not to use this way of traveling again.

"Quirrell, you look a bit embarrassed."

Professor McGonagall raised his head from his desk, looking at him with his eyes through the top edge of the lens, smiling casually like a teacher, staring at the students who made mistakes, "but the clothes are good."

"Thank you."

He patted the dust on his body, but found it difficult to clean it up. In the end, he simply used a silent spell and used [clean up a new one].

"The silent spell is great. It seems that the Black Forest has improved you."

After Professor McGonagall finished speaking, she looked at the documents on the table—as the vice-principal, she was very busy before the start of school—and said at the same time, "You know the location of the principal's office, and the password is: Toffee Finger Cake. "

"Okay, Professor." Voldemort replied, leaving Professor McGonagall's office.

Walking in the stairwell of Hogwarts, the memory deep in the soul slowly awakened, and even a sense of joy came—it was the memory belonging to Voldemort's remnant soul, and he obviously liked it here.

Not long after, Voldemort came to the corridor on the eighth floor and stood in front of the gargoyle.

"Then, it's up to you." Voldemort said to Quirrell's soul, and then abdicated.

Quirrell's soul took the initiative, while Voldemort's soul was hidden in a strong blood curse - but he did not choose to sleep, but secretly peeped at everything outside.

"Toffee Finger Cake." Quirrell puffed out his chest before saying to the stone beast.

"boom."

The stone beast jumped aside, and the wall behind it cracked open, revealing a spiral staircase moving upwards slowly.

"Quirrell?" Headmaster Dumbledore's voice came from the depths of the stairs.

"Yes principal, it's me." Quirrell said calmly.

"Come on, I have prepared finger cakes for you."

"Thank you."

While talking, Quirrell went up the spiral staircase and walked into a spacious and beautiful circular room.

Facing the back of the stairs, there is a huge long table with thin legs, and Dumbledore with silver hair is sitting behind, but he is looking at something, not looking at Quirrell.

"Eat some finger cakes, I have to finish this paragraph." He said without looking up.

"Okay, principal, you are busy first."

Quirrell responded, looking around the room curiously.

The most eye-catching thing must be the row of strange silverware on the table. Through Quirrell's eyes, Voldemort saw the silver lighter, the gold watch, and the sorting hat behind Dumbledore's side.

But their eyes were quickly attracted by the material Dumbledore was viewing-it was a brochure, and it was obvious at a glance that it was used by Muggles, because the photos there did not move.

Quirrell took advantage of the gap while leaning over and took a quick glance—it was a brochure for blood donation in a hospital.

"Boom, boom..." Quirrell's heart beat rapidly.

"You're a little nervous." Dumbledore raised his head in surprise, then smiled kindly, and said, "Have some honey, it will help relieve stress."

As the Elder Wand was waved, a cup of honeydew appeared in front of Quirrell.

"Thank you... I don't know if I'm ready for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class." Quirrell took a sip of his drink while talking.

"You have been a professor of Muggle studies, which means you have teaching experience."

Dumbledore put the blood donation flyer on the table, and said comfortingly, "You have also been to the Black Forest, which means you have actual combat experience, so...don't worry."

Quirrell squeezed out a nervous smile, and quickly became serious again, as if preparing to face Dumbledore's interview questions.

"Don't worry, I just have a question I want to ask you."

Dumbledore picked up the flyer, raised his hand, and said, "About the Muggle hospital, the issue of blood drawing - from this list, I should have taken the wrong documents - what I want to say is that the Muggle How much blood does the hospital usually draw?"

Quirrell's eyes widened in doubt, and his eyes were full of confusion: "Uh...Principal, I think...I'm interviewing for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class this time, not..."

"Oh, you don't understand me."

Dumbledore leaned back, then smiled, "This is a personal question, not an interview."

"what."

Qi Luo suddenly realized, thought for a while, and said, "It's hard to say, it depends on the disease, but generally speaking, I like to smoke more."

"Why?" Dumbledore asked suspiciously.

"In order to confirm the condition, and to avoid rot." Quirrell explained, "They use blood tests to confirm the cause. The more directions they do, the more causes will be ruled out. If there is no problem because they did less, In the end, there is trouble, and that is Luo Lan."

Dumbledore nodded, frowning slightly, and asked again: "The measurement of blood drawing will not involve life safety?"

"Certainly not. They have clear rules and regulations, and they will be held accountable for any problems."

"Oh, how about a debilitating situation that draws a lot of blood?"

Quirrell raised his eyebrows suspiciously, and after thinking about it, he said, "I don't know. I haven't been to a Muggle hospital since I entered Hogwarts."

After listening to his last words, Dumbledore smiled at him and said, "I just went there once out of curiosity, but I didn't do anything."

Quirrell smiled back, and then asked: "The principal asked this because there is some problem, do you need to go to the Muggle hospital to solve it? Or is there something else?"

"It's a child." Dumbledore said, "I went to the Muggle hospital for an examination, and my body showed symptoms of anemia. Of course, he is very thin, which may have something to do with it."

Quirrell shook his head, saying that he didn't quite understand it.

"Well, you've cleared up most of my doubts."

Dumbledore seemed to be completely relieved, but the real situation was unknown, "Actually, I still think that you are suitable for teaching Muggle studies - this course, I have always encouraged wizards who came from outside the wizarding world to become professors. .”

"But I'm really not interested in that course." Quirrell frowned and said with a hint of grievance.

"Of course, none of you have much interest in it."

Dumbledore said helplessly, and then seemed to think of something suddenly, "I heard about the old Tom's bar, and it seems that you are braver than before."

Quirrell was stunned for a moment, and then realized that the so-called Old Tom's Bar should refer to the Leaky Cauldron, and that incident...

"The curse of the vampire made me a little nervous, and I just returned to the wizarding world, and I haven't adjusted well yet."

Quirrell explained eagerly, as if he didn't want to affect Dumbledore's assessment of himself because of that incident.

"Don't be nervous, kid."

Dumbledore reassured, "It's not a mistake to be brave, and it's not something worthy of praise for them to bet your life."

Quirrell nodded, he thought so too.

　Ask for a few tickets, the data is too miserable.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)