A ruined Hogwarts

After dinner, Owen came outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office again. As soon as he opened the door, he almost choked at the smell of garlic.

The dark and cramped office was cold and damp, with the curtains drawn tightly and the fireplace unlit. Quirrell sat behind his desk with a sullen face, his extremely pale face making him look like a vampire.

"Oh, Professor Quirrell, even if you are single, you have to learn to take good care of yourself." Owen shook his head with a sigh, looking around at the messy environment in the room, "Do you mind if I help you tidy it up?"

Quirrell looked at him with a strange expression, and was speechless for a moment.

Owen gave him a bared smile, assuming he acquiesced, so he took out his wand, waved it, and said: "Whirlwind sweeps away."

The surrounding garbage and the smell of garlic in the air were swept away, and the random piles of debris were sorted and stored neatly. The office instantly became much neater and cleaner, and even the air became fresher.

Owen recited "The flames are raging" to the fireplace again, and the bright orange flames rose up "whooshing", illuminating the surroundings much brighter and bringing a warm feeling. Then he waved his magic wand again, and several oil lamps hanging on the wall lit up one after another. A copper kettle flew above the fireplace, and the sound of boiling water soon came from inside. A teapot and two teacups also floated to the table, and Owen took out some tea leaves from his pocket.

"Fine Ceylon black tea, do you want to have a cup of tea together?" Owen said with a bright smile.

This wave of anti-customer operations stunned Quirrell. He sat there and stared at Owen for a long time, speechless.

Owen looked at Quirrell's outfit thoughtfully, then suddenly tilted his head and said: "Professor Quirrell, I would like to ask, why do you love garlic so much?"

Quirrell gave him a cold look, then looked down at the kettle on the table, unconsciously rubbing his hands: "For disguise."

"To be honest, your disguise isn't much better. Is Professor Snape suspicious of you?" Owen said.

"He can only doubt it." Quirrell sneered.

"Aren't you afraid that he will tell Dumbledore?" Owen raised his eyebrows.

"The things he has done before determine that he cannot be trusted by Dumbledore." Quirrell smiled secretly, "If he couldn't find any evidence, he would have no choice but to do anything to me. It's a pity that the big dog couldn't bite me that day. Break his neck."

"But you didn't get the Philosopher's Stone either?" Owen said bluntly, "You almost let a Chimera beast kill all the students in Slytherin House. We were chased all the way by that monster on Halloween."

Quirrell's expression suddenly became more gloomy, with deep fear and pain in his eyes. He shook his head suddenly and said, "Where those monsters go is their own business."

Owen stared at him for a while, curled his lips, and returned to the previous topic: "Pretending doesn't necessarily make you weird. Being out of tune with others will arouse curiosity and inquiry. Think about it, this period of time is always Someone is interested in the scarf on your head, which means your disguise is a complete failure..."

He said mysteriously: "Professor Quirrell, do you want to try to change your image? You see, your conditions are actually good. You became a professor at Hogwarts at a young age. You are young and promising, and your appearance is not bad. Why? Why don’t you be more confident and make yourself more popular?”

"Well, let me think about it, you can start by changing your dressing sense. Oh, the scarf on your head can be replaced with various styles of hats. Ha, by the way! The most important thing is, I have a few bottles of perfume potions here, yes Men's favorite." Owen said with a strong recommendation, "It can significantly increase the charm, and, if you wish, it has a certain expulsion effect on vampires..."

As he spoke, under Quirrell's slightly dull gaze, he turned his empty palm, and several crystal bottles of different colors appeared in his palm and were placed on the table. This is a product he recently got from the potion shop at home, and he also added a little vampire-repelling ingredient to it.

"Of course, if you really like garlic, this bottle is garlic-flavored." Owen pushed out one of the bottles and said with bright eyes, "Do you need me to find a fashion magazine for you?"

"Do you want me to be exposed?" Quirrell glared at him gloomily.

"How could it be? Aren't you already under suspicion?" Owen blinked his left eye at him and said seductively, "There are many things in this world that can change a person. You can use the excuse of being scared by a vampire to become cowardly." , and you can make changes again naturally. For example, you have a profound enlightenment after facing the danger of a monster, or you find your favorite witch or wizard... This way, you will be less likely to be suspected."

Under Quirrell's flickering eyes, a cold voice that did not belong to either of them sounded: "That's enough, Owen, stop playing."

Quirrell suddenly held his head and trembled, while Owen suppressed the playful expression on his face. He looked at this scene with dark eyes and his expression became half-smiling.

When Quirrell raised his head again, his eyes and expression were completely different from before.

"Good evening, Professor." Owen bowed gracefully.

"Owen, I need you to do something." Voldemort said calmly. "Ask from Hagrid the way to get past the three-headed dog."

"Eh? Professor, can't you deal with that three-headed dog?" Owen raised his eyebrows pretending to be surprised, "I thought it was Professor Snape who stopped you that night..."

Voldemort glanced at his bloodless hands, then looked at Owen with eyes hiding desire and greed, and said softly: "My current magic power depends on this weak body, and the power I can exert is too little. ... Even if I get rid of the three-headed dog, I still won’t have the strength to get the magic stone.”

"Since it wasn't Professor Snape who stopped you, why don't you go find him?" Owen said softly, "I think his identity and abilities will be of great help to you." Snape was once a foodie His father knew about the Death Apostles. In fact, for ancient pure-blood families like the Shafik family, which still have huge wealth and power in the magical world, the identities of almost all Death Eaters are not a secret. .

"But he may also make my plan completely fail." Voldemort looked at the tightly closed curtains with a heavy gaze, as if he could see the dark sky outside through the curtains, "Severus is indeed a wizard with outstanding talents. He once He is my most loyal follower...I don’t know if he has completely turned against me now.”

He turned his head and looked at Owen, pulled the crucible aside with one hand in front of him, lit a flame under the crucible, slowly threw some potion ingredients into it, and said calmly: "This is really something that makes me extremely disappointed. It's been ten years, and no one who has sworn eternal loyalty to me has gone to find their master. How can they be so sure that I won't make a comeback?"

Owen opened his mouth and said softly: "Maybe everyone thinks you are... dead."

Voldemort did not raise his head, but simply said: "Yes, yes, they thought I was finished, so they couldn't wait to sneak back to my enemies, claiming that they were innocent and were under witchcraft. Even though I had let them know long ago. I have found a way to prevent death and have proven my boundless power countless times... Maybe they think there is a more powerful force in this world that can defeat Voldemort..."

He dropped the last few medicinal materials into the crucible, and wisps of white mist floated out from the blue medicinal liquid, with a slightly sour sweetness gradually filling the small office.

Owen sniffed the increasingly sweet sweetness in the air and silently looked at the potion in the crucible. Is this poisoning in person? You are so arrogant.

"With all due respect, Professor, you suddenly completely disappeared from this world. Normal people would think that you are no longer here..." He blinked and said, "There are some people who don't want to believe it, but they are all imprisoned now. In Azkaban.”

Owen has found a way to get along with the current Voldemort. The other party now has plans for him, which means that he can relax more while keeping a good control of the situation. Voldemort in his weak state is not as arrogant as he was in his heyday, at least. I can listen to some people's words.

"As for you having found a way to prevent death...isn't this really the slogan you used when recruiting followers?" He said innocently, "Perhaps in the eyes of many people, it is just like the slogan of the Minister of Magic during his campaign. You can’t believe any of the slogans…”

Owen seemed to feel Voldemort giving him a cold glare. With a normal expression on his face, he let the kettle fly over the fireplace, put some tea leaves into the teapot, then filled it with water, closed the lid and waited quietly for the tea to brew.

"Professor, do you want some tea? I'm good at making tea." He said in a relaxed tone, "Or, I can also help you make potions. Unfortunately, my level of potions is not very high... ..." He glanced at the pot of boiling potion.

Voldemort stared at him for a while, but was not angry. Facing this little wizard who was becoming more and more bold in front of him, he found it a bit interesting.

"Owen, are you willing to dedicate your loyalty to me, even your life?" He said playfully, and his deep voice even sounded very pleasant.

Owen's body froze, almost thinking that the other party was going to take action now. He glanced at the unpredictable Voldemort and said softly: "I am willing to devote my loyalty to you, but I will sacrifice my life... This is too sudden, Professor, I think I am not ready yet."

"I thought you had surrendered to me." Voldemort narrowed his eyes dangerously.

Owen silently poured two cups of tea, took one of them and took a sip, feeling the rich and mellow aroma of the black tea, and then sighed: "Who wants to die if they can live, Professor."

"There are many situations for a person to give his life, such as for love, pursuit and belief. If you can use an ideal future to gather people with lofty ideals, use personal charm and clever means to conquer people's hearts, and become followers With the hope and faith in your eyes, there will definitely be countless people who want to die for you fanatically."

"You want to discuss the topic of love with me? It sounds like Dumbledore's hypocritical and weak arguments." Voldemort sneered sarcastically, "I don't need those trivial things, only power is enough. I don’t need anyone to volunteer to die for me either, I can force anyone to die.”

Owen quickly picked up the tea cup and took a sip of tea, with an awkward yet polite smile on his face. Then why are you asking me? Just kidding?

"You're quite honest. You finally understand that it's ridiculous to be clever in front of me, Owen." Voldemort said lazily. The cold and dangerous aura he had just now subsided in an instant, and his interesting look looked like he was teasing. A fun little pet.

Owen squeezed the teacup in his hand and silently poured himself another cup of tea. Amused! Dark Lord, you are a bit naughty...Who said Voldemort is not smart? This guy knew a lot of things in his mind, but he just didn't want to use his brain anymore because he was too inflated after making Horcruxes to escape death.

"What do you think of my previous ideas?" Voldemort seemed to ask casually.

"It's very tempting, Professor. Pure-blood supremacy and enslaving Muggles are in the interests of my family." Owen had a flawless smile on his face. "Compared to Grindelwald's slogan at that time, your philosophy is like A fairy tale." Absurd and childish!

Although he knows that Voldemort's true purpose is to achieve immortality and use his power to do whatever he wants and make everyone surrender to him, as for pure-blood supremacy, he has to wait for a while. This idea may be put forward more to gather a group of people who can see it. Just a passing subordinate.

"So, you believe our future is bright." Voldemort said slowly.

"Of course... no. On the contrary, I think the future is bleak, Professor." Owen took a deep breath and put on a sad expression. Come on, let's have fun together.

Voldemort's expression paused, and then he chuckled: "It's interesting. Do you think I will eventually lose power again?"

"No, of course you'll be fine, Professor, but I don't see the possibility of this goal succeeding..." Owen said with a pessimistic look on his face, almost squeezing out two tears.

"Do you think my power is not enough to realize my ambition, or that my allies are not strong enough?" Voldemort looked at him condescendingly.

"Professor your power is naturally great enough, but your potential supporters are destined to be only some pure-blood families, and the vast majority of wizards will be on the opposite side. Although most wizards will ignore the matter before the fire burns them. It's high-pitched, but when pure blood comes to power, the identities of wizards are divided into three, six or nine levels because of their blood, and when oppression really comes, there will never be a shortage of people to stand up and resist. Not to mention there is a Dumbledore here I am."

"Dumbledore? He will only establish an inconspicuous small organization and let them jump up and down like clowns." Voldemort said coldly, "As for those mediocre wizards? What's the use of their resistance?"

"Dumbledore does have a strange persistence, but I think that when the situation develops to the point where he has to stand up, and when he realizes that the real crisis is coming, he will no longer stay in a corner but rise up to speak out. , those scattered wizards will be twisted into a rope in an instant, and we will have no advantage." Owen shrugged.

"But he was so weak that he didn't dare to stand up at all. This was the case during Grindelwald's time, and it was the same later." Voldemort's expression was extremely mocking.

"That's different." Owen said mysteriously, "I have some rumors. I heard that Dumbledore didn't deal with Grindelwald because they used to be very good friends, very, very good friends... "

"..."

"..."

It turned cold for a while. Owen coughed lightly and drank some black tea by himself. There was steam and mist above the cauldron on the table, and Voldemort's face was hidden behind the steam, making his expression unclear. The two sat across from each other, and the atmosphere seemed somewhat harmonious.

"Okay, even if we succeed in killing Dumbledore, the pure-bloods succeed in taking over, and we enslave the Muggles..." Owen continued, "But the Muggles have hot weapons such as firearms, and some of them will also When wizards appear, Muggles who are unwilling to be enslaved will definitely rise up to resist, and the biggest targets will naturally be the wizards who are above them."

"When the time comes, there will be no shortage of sneak attacks and assassinations against wizards. The situation of wizards will not get better, but they will be even more afraid to appear in front of Muggles. Unless we can kill all Muggles, but there are so many Muggles, we have to kill them. How long? Not to mention that there are too many wizards who have close relationships with Muggles and will only interfere with them..."

"As for the wizards, pure-blood wizards occupy high positions. Under oppression and exploitation, there will not only be resisters, but also some resentful extremists. They can't deal with you, Professor, but they can assassinate pure-blood wizards and even their Children are more than enough, pure-blood wizards will only face an extremely difficult situation, and in the end they will either be exterminated or compromised."

"Professor, without your subordinates, you will be constantly harassed and targeted by wizards. After all, wizards are born with extraordinary talents and power. Maybe there will be a group of people squatting around every day, ready to kill you. curse……"

Owen finished speaking in one breath, picked up the tea cup in his hand and drank it all in one gulp, then breathed out gently and poured himself another cup of tea. Although what he said was a bit exaggerated, it was by no means alarmist.

Voldemort's expression was still unfathomable. He didn't care much about the life and death of other wizards, but when it came to his own interests, he couldn't help but think carefully. Thinking about it this way, he felt that Owen's words might really come true. Although he was confident in his own strength, he didn't want to be attacked by a group of people with the Killing Curse - although he could be resurrected, the taste of death was not pleasant.

"Then what solution do you have?" He said slowly, his expression becoming cautious.

"This matter is too complicated. I'm just an eleven-year-old wizard. How can I think of any good solution?" Owen spread his hands with an innocent look on his face, thinking that he has bluffed you.

Voldemort's slender fingers gently rubbed the table, his eyes almost narrowed into thin slits. The little guy in front of him was very smart, with a keen perception of the situation and extraordinary foresight. This surpassed all the Death Eaters under his command, and he couldn't bear to completely occupy it.

"Then you go back and think about it carefully, write a paper and give it to me before I lose patience." He said calmly.

Owen's expression froze. Is this guy going to rebel? I'm just going to make fun of you for not practicing martial ethics?

"Then, let's start today's lecture." Voldemort glanced at the wilted little wizard, and his mood became good, "You have mastered the Explosive Curse, then let's talk about the Fire Curse, which represents ultimate destruction. Bar."