Hogwarts: I am Voldemort

"Every class is taught by both colleges together. This is to allow students from different colleges to communicate, so..."

Dumbledore didn't say any more. He reached out and picked up a piece of toffee finger cake and ate it.

Obviously, he wanted Quirrell to come up with a solution on his own.

"Set up an actual battlefield." Quirrell said, "A team of four academy students must participate. This can solve the communication problem."

"It's a method, but where is the actual battlefield?" Dumbledore picked up the honey and took a sip and asked.

"Forbidden Forest, if you allow me to do that, I need Hagrid as an assistant professor. He can help me find enough magical creatures."

"It seems that you have thought very carefully." Dumbledore put down the finger cake and frowned in thought.

Quirrell waited quietly. He knew that Dumbledore needed to think for a long time - the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching methods had changed too much, and the principal must make careful decisions.

"Promise him." A female voice suddenly remembered, causing the two of them to turn their heads at the same time in shock.

It was the portrait of Headmistress Delise Derwent who spoke. She was the headmistress of Hogwarts in the mid-eighteenth century and was very famous in Hogwarts and the wizarding world.

"Oh, Doris," Dumbledore said to her, "tell me your opinion. It's been a long time since you expressed your opinion."

"I have seen too many incompetent wizards in the portrait hanging in St. Mungo's. In the past two centuries, the actual combat capabilities of wizards have declined too much."

She rolled her eyes and said, "In the past, wizards were not afraid of being surrounded by dozens of people, but now... they can be killed by floo powder. Stupid wizards, it's time for them to grow up."

"Dalys, fighting Muggles and using fake Floo powder are two different things."

The portrait not far from Doris spoke, and Quirrell recognized it as Principal Black, who was also a very famous principal.

"I know, but I can't stand their stupidity. Appropriate adventures can help them understand the world." Delise replied dissatisfied.

"Okay." Dumbledore said, letting Principal Black swallow his rebuttal. "I accept your opinion, but..."

He looked at Quirrell, who looked at him expectantly and curiously.

"How do you solve the problem of class time?" Dumbledore asked, "If each grade and each house has to teach separately, I think you will be overwhelmed."

"Perhaps I could use a time-turner," Quirrell said.

As a Ravenclaw honors student, he had used it for a year in his third year, but then gave up the benefit - it gave him a sense of being out of time, but this time at Voldemort's request.

"no."

Dumbledore refused without hesitation, "The magic of adults will cause problems. Moreover, doubling the class time will make you exhausted on the podium - the curse may also multiply."

Quirrell shuddered and drank a glass of honey before speaking again: "Then let the two adjacent grades in the same college merge and teach two contents in one class. With the help of the seventh-grade teaching assistant, I want to think about the problem Not big."

Dumbledore took off his half-moon eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his right index finger and thumb - he looked helpless, closing his eyes and thinking about something.

Quirrell waited quietly. He knew that his request was a bit excessive, but...this was all the Dark Lord's idea.

More than forty years ago, the Dark Lord wanted to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and he even cursed the position because he couldn't get it.

Now, he finally got what he wanted, and these thoughts...

Quirrell had to think that this was the teaching content that the Dark Lord had been thinking about for forty years.

From this point of view, the complexity and changes are not so unreasonable.

In fact, this is indeed part of the idea in the remnant soul of the Dark Lord, but the fused soul has undergone a lot of changes - he firmly believes that establishing an actual battle that allows students to fight each other and must end with one party fainting The venue is undesirable.

"That is to say."

Finally, Dumbledore spoke, "You need to build an actual battlefield in the Forbidden Forest, you also need to adjust the overall curriculum, and... you need several teaching assistants, including Hagrid?"

Quirrell blinked. He suddenly felt that his request was indeed a bit excessive.

"Ahem...I think...that's about it." Finally, he said bravely.

"I think you are causing a lot of trouble for Professor McGonagall."

Dumbledore said, waving his wand, and a silver phoenix rushed out of the Elder Wand, circled in a circle and rushed out of the door - it should have sent a message to Professor McGonagall.

"If Professor McGonagall can adjust the class time to what you need, I support you in adjusting the Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

Dumbledore said, removing the blood donation brochure and taking out a blank piece of paper, "But if class time does not allow it, can you maintain the original teaching method and teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

As he spoke, he had already picked up the pen and dipped it in ink.

"Of course." Quirrell said with certainty, "Ravenclaw's wisdom allows me to usually be prepared."

"Then, wait a moment, please allow me to write the letter of appointment." Dumbledore said, and began to write the letter of appointment to Quirrell on the spot.

This may seem a bit formalistic, but presumably the great white wizard would not do anything in vain - Hogwarts is a mysterious place, and perhaps this is a necessary process.

Quirrell suppressed the joy in his heart and tried his best to look calm, but his eyes couldn't help but glance at Dumbledore's beautiful cursive handwriting, and then...

He saw something remarkable.

Just in front of the appointment letter—which had been covered by a blood donation brochure—revealed a brief letter that read:

Dear Dumbledore:

I will temporarily store the Philosopher's Stone in the underground vault of Gringotts No. 713 on the morning of July 31st. I hope you can take it away before dark, because the goblins are watching it.

Your dear friend Nico Flamel.

A brief letter, but it revealed enough content to drive any wizard crazy.

But for a moment, what arose in Quirrell's heart was not greed, but fear - he was 100% sure that Dumbledore had taken the initiative to let him see it, because the master had guessed that the Sorcerer's Stone was a hoax.

"Oh my God, Headmaster, is that really the Philosopher's Stone?" He shouted without hesitation, which actually made Dumbledore look at him in surprise.

"Oh, it's still here, I should put it away."

Dumbledore said, taking the letter into his arms, but it was obviously too late, wasn't it?

"I mean..." Quirrell's face was still full of surprise, "This is incredible. I never thought that I was so close to it."

"You are far away from it, child." Dumbledore was amused by him.

"Well, principal, you're right."

Quirrell was like a deflated balloon, slumped in his chair, as if what Dumbledore had just put away was not the letter, but the Philosopher's Stone he was about to get.

If Voldemort was still awake, he would definitely use a Chinese word to describe Quirrell's feeling at this moment, that is...

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