Ch: 41-50 - Fanfics to read

Ch: 41-50

Chapter 41: He... Just... Ran While Pooping?

The moon's afterglow filtered through the wooden window, illuminating that pale, grotesque face.

Crimson vertical pupils glinted coldly in the gloom, staring straight out the window—clearly having discovered the uninvited little Wizards outside.

[resentment points from Lord Voldemort +999!]

[...]

On the system panel, bright red numbers refreshed frantically like a waterfall, and resentment pointssoared at an unprecedented rate.

But Signas had no time to appreciate this "harvest" at the moment.

Inside the room, Professor Quirrell turned around abruptly.

The habitual cowering on his face vanished without a trace, replaced by a condescending scrutiny.

A faint sneer played at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were now as sharp as poisoned daggers.

Signas felt a chill in his heart; although there was no proof, it felt like Lord Voldemort himself.

Sig had the Soothing Potion, which would grant him immunity to most magic upon drinking. However, the three Pure-blood "glass cannons"—Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle—couldn't withstand a single Dark Curse.

"Run!"

Thinking of this, Signas gave a decisive low shout, tugged Draco, and turned to sprint toward the Castle.

Crabbe and Goyle reacted extremely quickly, bursting into their fastest speed ever as they scrambled to follow close behind.

Clearly, they weren't stupid either; they could tell Professor Quirrell was acting abnormally. Although they didn't know what was up with that grotesque face, they were certain it was likely some form of Dark Arts.

For these little Pure-blood Wizards, such a scene wasn't entirely unfamiliar.

Draco knew his father's study contained several living skeletal hands and crystal skulls, all of which were Dark Arts items with powerful magic.

And as the Professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class, it wasn't surprising that Quirrellmight know some Dark Arts or possess Dark Arts items!

However, no matter who it was, no one wanted their Dark Arts secrets to be discovered.

Because after the fall of the Dark Lord, the current Wizarding World—at least on the surface—rejected the Dark Arts.

Having stumbled upon Professor Quirrell's secret, he naturally wouldn't let the matter rest.

There would be no good outcome for the little Wizards... The night wind whistled in their ears as the four sprinted desperately across the grass, the outline of the Castle drawing closer.

Just then, with a crack, Quirrell's figure suddenly appeared about a dozen meters ahead.

With his back to the moonlight, his silhouette was outlined in silver, like a messenger from hell.

"Aha, Mr. Shalk, Mr. Malfoy, and Crabbe and Goyle..." Quirrell's voice no longer stuttered, but carried a drawn-out drawl. "It seems you several have stolen the Gryffindor tradition of night wandering... Not sleeping in the middle of the night, do you want to make friends with the spiders in the Forbidden Forest?"

With one hand behind his back, he slowly raised his wand with the other, its tip shimmering in the moonlight.

Under Lord Voldemort's direction, Quirrell's killing intent was almost tangible; he wished he could use the Killing Curse to wipe these little Wizards from the world immediately.

But he couldn't!

Killing them would cause too much of a stir.

Dumbledore was no fool, and the Ministry of Magic wasn't just for show.

There were too many tracking spells and investigative methods that could easily lead back to "Professor Quirrell."

Once exposed, the plan to obtain the Philosopher's Stone would be completely ruined, and he might even have to flee.

Whereas a single Imperio would turn them into the most obedient puppets, making them forget everything from tonight or even work for him.

Quirrell's cold gaze locked onto Signas.

He was confident that a first-year student had no chance of resisting his Imperio.

The moment Quirrell spoke, Signas had already retrieved the Soothing Potion from his system spaceand, taking advantage of the gap in his speech, turned and quickly gulped down a large mouthful.

The cool liquid slid down his throat, and a strange sensation instantly spread throughout his body.

"Professor, you're here too! It's so late, you should be resting. We'll head back to our dormitory now!"

Signas's expression was grave. As he spoke, he gripped the wand hidden in his sleeve, his internal magic beginning to surge, ready to hop on a broomstick and bolt at any moment.

Quirrell—or rather, Lord Voldemort—snorted coldly. He had completely lost his patience and was about to wave his wand to cast Imperio.

"Imperio—"

Just as the first syllable of the incantation left his lips, another change occurred!

"Gurgle... gurgle-gurgle... rumble..."

An even more violent intestinal rumbling than before exploded in Quirrell's abdomen, the sound so loud it even drowned out the incantation.

Quirrell's body froze abruptly, the incantation coming to a dead stop, and his right hand holding the wand trembled violently and uncontrollably.

He felt that the power in his gut, which had already been churning, had fermented and built up into an active volcano ready to erupt after being forcibly suppressed and then subjected to Apparition!

A terrifying urge to defecate, like a landslide or a tsunami, was violently battering his final line of defense!

Under the moonlight, Quirrell's face turned from pale to purplish-red, and then from purplish-red to iron-blue at a speed visible to the naked eye.

It was so severe that it even alerted his master.

When Lord Voldemort forced his strength to take full control of the body, even he had to clamp his legs together under the impact of this powerful urge, his body curling like a cooked shrimp as pea-sized beads of cold sweat rolled down instantly.

He wanted to suppress it with his will.

Because he was Lord Voldemort!

He was the most powerful Dark Wizard in the history of the Magical World!

He could control minds, he could conquer death—how could he possibly fail to control a mere physiological reaction?!

However, that physiological impulse, mixed with the power of the Potion, followed no logic and had no regard for the dignity of a Dark Lord!

From those crimson vertical pupils that were instantly filled with horror and despair, Signas read a crystal-clear message:

It's... it's coming out!

"Pfft—pfft-pfft-pfft—bang!"

That was definitely not just the sound of passing gas.

Time stood still.

The air solidified.

Lord Voldemort remained in his bent-over, leg-clamping posture, completely petrified.

He could feel a warm, viscous, primal current breaking through the final line of defense, painting a magnificent "map" inside his silk trousers.

That indescribable smell, like an invisible plague, radiated frantically outward in a circle with him at the center.

[resentment points from Lord Voldemort +999!]

...Sig was completely dazed, because the system was blowing up!

"You... you..." Lord Voldemort tremblingly raised a finger to point at Signas, his crimson eyes burning with rage and humiliation.

He wanted to say something threatening, wanted to cast a Dark Curse, but the total collapse of his body caused both his brain and his dignity to crash.

"Pfft—!"

Another long, weak discharge extinguished his final efforts.

He couldn't care about the brats in front of him, nor could he care about his decency and dignity as the Dark Lord.

His only thought now was to escape, to flee from this scene of shame!

Lord Voldemort let out a non-human shriek and turned abruptly, rushing into the depths of the Forbidden Forest without looking back, moving in an extremely awkward and comical pigeon-toed waddle while dragging the "burden" in his crotch.

Behind his pathetic figure, he left only a string of intermittent, despairing "pfft-pfft" sounds and a contaminated area.

Signas, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stood frozen on the spot, left bewildered in the night breeze.

After a long time, Draco finally snapped out of it. Looking in the direction where Professor Quirrell had vanished, he spoke with difficulty:

"He... just... ran while pooping?"

Signas just gave an "Mm" and nodded expressionlessly.

Chapter 42: This One Gives '+999' as Soon as He Acts

The night wind blew, bringing the fresh scent of swirled grass, yet it could not disperse the suffocating stench lingering there.

The four stood in place in silence. Crabbe and Goyle's faces were written with lingering fear and physiological discomfort; they instinctively covered their noses and mouths with their sleeves.

"We... need to get back quickly." Signas's voice broke the eerie silence.

It was already very late. If they were caught by Filch or any Professor on night patrol, it would definitely be a considerable amount of trouble.

Along the way, he cautioned them repeatedly not to reveal the secret of Quirrell's monstrous face.

Sig was still pulling up the system panel in his mind, admiring his glorious achievements from tonight.

[resentment points Balance: 38,668 points!]

Looking at this shining five-digit number, Signas almost couldn't keep a straight face; the corners of his mouth curled up wildly.

He forced himself to cover his mouth with his hand, pretending to cough, but his shoulders were shaking uncontrollably.

Refreshing! So refreshing!

Lord Voldemort truly lived up to being the final boss. Even if he was just a remnant soul, his production of resentment points was in a league of its own!

Others worked hard to contribute double digits, but this one gave '+999' as soon as he acted, and in rapid succession too!

This wave of points gave him a slight sense of realization for his idea of achieving 'resentment point freedom.'

Signas even began to calculate what methods he should use next time to mine this 'rich resentment mine' more deeply and persistently.

It seemed that this person wasn't afraid of attacks or even death, but placed great importance on his psyche and dignity.

The four finally managed to sneak back to the Slytherin Common Room without further incident. The fire in the fireplace was almost out, with only a few specks of crimson charcoal flickering faintly.

As soon as they returned to the dormitory, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle collapsed onto their beds almost immediately, pulling the covers over their heads as if trying to use sleep to forget tonight's foul-smelling experience.

Meanwhile, deep beneath Hogwarts Castle.

Severus Snape's expression was gloomier than the stones in the dungeon.

He had just finished his routine nightly patrol.

On the grass near the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he keenly detected a trace of unusual magical residue fluctuations, as well as... a stench that even he found unbearable.

In the center of that area, he also picked up a purple turban stained with an unknown filth.

It belonged to Quirinus Quirrell.

Quirrell went into the Forbidden Forest?

This was quite unusual!

Because the Troll Quirrell had prepared had already been sent into the restricted area of that room on the Fourth Floor; he had no need to enter the Forbidden Forest now.

Snape used the Levitation Charm to hold the turban in mid-air. The crimson firelight reflected off his greasy face, and his eyes were so dark and sullen they seemed ready to drip with malice.

He had long suspected Quirrell was problematic.

That cowardly fool always had a faint, lingering aura of the Dark Arts about him.

Dumbledore had asked him to keep an eye on Quirrell's movements, so he had been monitoring him in secret. Tonight's discovery clearly proved that this fellow was suspicious.

In addition to the aura of Quirrell and the Dark Arts, Snape also found traces of a Potion at the scene.

Snape's nostrils flared slightly.

He was far too familiar with this; he had tasted this Potion personally.

It was Cygnus Sharke.

"Interesting..." The corner of Snape's mouth curled into a cold arc.

It seemed Slytherin had produced an expert night-wanderer; only a first-year, yet he dared to venture into the Forbidden Forest at night!

This reminded Snape of another person—James Potter. They were so alike: the same arrogance, the same bullying of the weak, and the same love for night-wandering... Snape flicked his wand, and a cluster of black flames appeared out of thin air, silently incinerating the foul-smelling turban along with the filth on it into ashes.

Whether it was Quirrell up to no good or that audacious boy fooling around, this matter would not end simply.

Lying in bed, Signas was happily calculating how to use these nearly forty thousand resentment points.

The lottery was out of the question—his luck was terrible now, and he didn't know how to cheat—so he simply exchanged them for 90 skill points to first max out his Levitation Charm level.

But this was not a long-term solution after all.

Learning spells themselves was not easy; progress was slow and needed to be synchronized with the growth of one's own magic power.

His current magic capacity was not yet enough to support comprehending those profound magics on his own, so naturally, he couldn't use skill points to level them up directly!

Therefore, the top priority was to strengthen existing skills to maximize combat power and survival capability.

He clicked on the system and browsed the magic he had mastered: Levitation Charm, Lumos, Fire-Making Spell... all were basic spells.

In addition, there were skills like Soothing Potion, Cure for Boils Potion, Flight, and Elementary Transfiguration.

The Levitation Charm was already maxed out and extremely practical. So the next one to upgrade... Signas's gaze fell on 'Flight.'

As the Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team, the first match would be after Halloween; Flight would surely be of great use then!

A max-level Flight skill would not only make him invincible on the Quidditch Pitch but would also be a trump card for saving his life at a critical moment!

At this thought, Signas no longer hesitated and made a mental command.

"Consume ten thousand resentment points, upgrade Flight skill to MAX (Level 100)!"

[Ding! Flight skill has reached max level!]

In an instant, countless bits of knowledge, techniques, and muscle memories regarding Flight flooded into his brain and body like a bursting dam.

How to feel the flow of the wind, how to merge with the broom, how to complete sharp turns, hovers, and dives in milliseconds... these felt like instincts he was born with.

He even had an illusion at this moment: as long as he was given a broom, he could weave freely through the dense canopy of the Forbidden Forest without touching a single leaf.

He decided to save the remaining resentment points for emergencies. After all, in the wizarding world, who could know whether an accident or tomorrow would come first?

Over the next few days, Hogwarts seemed to return to its usual calm.

Unsurprisingly, Professor Quirrell took several days of sick leave, and Defense Against the Dark Artsclasses were taken over by Snape.

As soon as this news broke, students from the other houses were immediately filled with wails of woe, walking into the classroom as if they were about to face a Dementor.

Some students, especially Harry Potter, felt that the days were harder to endure than being in prison.

But Signas was quite satisfied.

On one hand, every time Snape saw him, a trace of complex emotion would flash in those obsidian-like eyes.

Then, a message would punctually pop up on the system panel: [resentment points from Severus Snape +44], giving him a steady harvest of 'daily income.'

On the other hand, Dean Snape truly taught things.

He still used the previous textbook, 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection,' but the content of his explanations was worlds apart.

Using concise and sharp language, he precisely analyzed the key points of casting and practical applications of each spell, which was a hundred times better than listening to Quirrell's stuttering recitations of the book.

After just two classes, Signas had not only completely mastered the Curse of the Bogies but had also learned the Knockback Jinx along the way...

Chapter 43: Are You Sure Your Pure-blood Lineage Isn't Mixed?

Monday morning, the final week before Halloween, was another period with no classes.

Most young Wizards were lazily lingering in the Slytherin Common Room at this time.

As October drew to a close, the cold winds of the Scottish Highlands grew increasingly biting, the piercing north wind howling as it battered the Castle windows with a sound like ghostly wailing.

In contrast, the Slytherin Common Room, located beneath the lake, was warm and comfortable. The little snakes were either reading and previewing their lessons or playing games like chess for entertainment.

Signas was one of those seeking entertainment; he was playing Wizards Chess with Daphne at a low table.

The rules of Wizards Chess were no different from Muggle chess, but the pieces were alive, possessing independent consciousness and their own temperaments.

There was no need to move them by hand while playing; one only needed to give clear commands to direct them into battle.

It was less like playing chess and more like commanding a miniature war.

The set Sig and Daphne were playing with belonged to Daphne—an antique passed down through several generations with worn edges. Though the pieces were old...

However, it didn't matter if the pieces were old.

Because it meant they were fiercely loyal to their master; every one of Daphne's commands was executed perfectly.

However, when it came to Signas's side, the situation was completely different.

These pieces, like grizzled old veterans, were full of disdain and distrust for their 'temporary commander.' Not only did they follow commands selectively, but they also chattered away, bossing him around as if Sig were the one getting in the way.

"Hey, kid! You should move the Rook to A4! Not the Bishop!" a one-eyed Queen piece shouted at him.

"Shut up! Let him use the Rook to crush the opponent's Knight!" a Pawn piece with half its body missing retorted.

The outcome of the game was naturally unsurprising: Sig suffered a crushing defeat. His King's crown was sliced off by Daphne's Knight, and it dejectedly walked off the board on its own.

Sig's face was dark. He felt that if it hadn't been for these useless pieces giving bad advice, he wouldn't have lost so embarrassingly... Sig was so relaxed not because he was a natural slacker like Daphne, but purely because his grades were too good.

He had used skill points to max out every spell after class, and the same went for Potion recipes. This meant he didn't need to spend time previewing, reviewing, or practicing spells, leaving him with a massive surplus of free time.

He had originally wanted to seize the time to farm some resentment points from others, but everyone was so busy they had no time to pay him any mind.

Even the Professors at Hogwarts had exceptionally heavy teaching loads.

For example, Professor Quirrell had to face students from four houses across seven years. Usually, two houses had class together; if every student had Defense Against the Dark Arts Class once a week, Quirrell would need to teach at least fourteen classes a week.

But the young Wizards of each year had more than one Defense Against the Dark Arts Class per week. This meant Quirrell likely taught over twenty classes a week, averaging at least three a day!

By that calculation, most Professors at Hogwarts probably had their schedules packed full every day!

This left Sig momentarily speechless. Was the pressure even in a magic school this high now?

He wondered if he should suggest to the Department of Education at the Ministry of Magic to 'reduce the burden' for these poor Wizard students and Professors.

"You lost again, Sig!"

Daphne's Knight piece swung its greatsword, decapitating the opposing King.

Sig's pieces swarmed forward, surrounding their master and spewing insults, spittle flying everywhere, as if the responsibility for the loss rested entirely on him.

Throughout the morning, Sig had lost over a dozen games in a row... "Seriously, can't these pieces just obediently follow my lead?" Sig's teeth itched with frustration. If he didn't know these scraps were Greengrass Family antiques, he really would have wanted to crush them one by one.

"There, there," Daphne's lips curled into a pretty arc, her sapphire-like eyes brimming with laughter; she was clearly enjoying herself immensely. "How about I spot you two pieces this time?"

"No!" Sig refused without a second thought.

These pieces didn't listen at all, which was equivalent to him spotting Daphne all of his pieces; her giving up two meant nothing.

His eyes darted around as he came up with a clever plan: "How about this: the pieces I command will be yours. The pieces you command will be mine. How's that?"

"Sure, whatever you say!" Daphne nodded obediently, clearly knowing Sig's pieces wouldn't follow instructions.

But that wasn't why she was happy.

Daphne was happy because, even in this situation, Sig was willing to patiently play over a dozen games with her.

Just as Sig was regrouping, preparing to use Daphne's hand to thoroughly screw over his disobedient pieces, a shadow loomed over the board.

"Shalk, having a good time, aren't you? Don't you know you're seriously disturbing our studies?"

Sig looked up and saw it was Nott speaking.

Everyone knew this Nott had mediocre talent; aside from his good birth, nothing else stood out. In Slytherin, he appeared quite ordinary... Before Sig could speak, Daphne's expression darkened, and she snapped back unceremoniously, "Nott, you're the one disturbing my chess game. I haven't even come looking for trouble with you, and yet you've come knocking on my door?"

She looked Nott up and down, a mocking smile curling on her lips. "Besides, I don't think you should bother studying. No matter how much you read, your grades aren't as good as mine... It's hard to believe someone like you counts as a Pure-blood."

[resentment points from Theodore Nott +88!]

That sentence accurately struck Nott's sore spot, and his face instantly turned the color of pig's liver. Just as he was about to explode, Blaise Zabini walked over from the side and grabbed him.

"Greengrass, we don't want to cause trouble for you." Zabini's tone sounded a bit more polite, but the arrogance in his eyes hadn't diminished in the slightest as he looked down at the still-seated Signas. "It's Shalk. The noise he's making while playing chess is too loud; it's already affecting us!"

He paused, his posturing of fairness making him look even more unpleasant. He glanced at Sig. "Clearly, this mudblood doesn't quite understand the rules of the Wizarding World, nor does he know that one should remain quiet in the Common Room."

Hearing this, Signas almost burst out laughing.

He was just worrying about where to get resentment points, and someone had delivered a pillow just as he was getting sleepy.

Sig looked at these two newly sprouted leeks—green, fresh, and plump—and his heart blossomed with joy.

By now, many people in the lounge had noticed the conflict, and the sound of low-level conversations died down.

Several were upper-year students who had no intention of stepping in to mediate. Instead, they crossed their arms with interest, their faces wearing the signature Slytherin expressions of indifference and amusement.

Clearly, Slytherin traditions placed such emphasis on friendliness!

Daphne's fair little face instantly flushed red; that 'mudblood' slur was extremely vile.

The angry little Witch was about to lash out when she felt a warmth on her wrist. Sig had gently pressed it down, smiling as he soothed her back into her seat.

"Sig?" She was somewhat puzzled.

"Sit down first," Sig's voice wasn't loud, but it reached her ears clearly. "I'll have a friendly and cordial negotiation with them. Trust me, my method of negotiation has always been very persuasive."

In the distance, Malfoy, who was playing chess with Goyle, heard the commotion. He looked up, and seeing this scene, his mouth couldn't help but twitch.

He exchanged a look with Goyle; clearly, they had deep personal experience with the 'friendly negotiation' Sig spoke of, and their gazes toward Nott and the other were already tinged with sympathy.

Nott and Shabini, seeing Signas hold Daphne back, thought he was afraid, and smug expressions appeared on their faces.

They were curious how this mudblood would grovel and apologize when Sig already provided the answer.

Sig didn't even bother to stand up. With a flick of his wrist, his wand slid into his hand like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, the tip tracing an extremely swift and simple arc.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Two silent spells released invisible magic, instantly ensnaring Nott and Shabini.

The two felt their feet lighten. Like two rabbits caught by the scruff of their necks, their feet left the ground, kicking fruitlessly in mid-air.

A chorus of suppressed gasps rang out around them.

Sig hadn't gone around bragging about how he had handled Draco Malfoy's trio, and Draco's group was too embarrassed to publicize it themselves.

In regular classes, Sig couldn't display his true strength, so the students present weren't aware of just how powerful he was.

They were shocked that Sig could perform non-verbal spells so skillfully, and with the Levitation Charm they hadn't even studied yet... Beyond that, they were amazed that Sig dared to attack fellow students in the Common Room, completely disregarding school rules and the nearby prefect, Fabian Hogan.

"I didn't expect this, I really didn't," Signas stood up leisurely and walked a circle around the two suspended in mid-air, as if admiring his trophies, clicking his tongue in feigned admiration. "You two are such weaklings, with reactions slower than a slug, yet you have the nerve to come out and practice Pure-blood discrimination? Does anyone just get to call themselves a Pure-blood these days?"

"Are you sure your family's Pure-blood lineage isn't mixed?"

Shabini: "???"

Nott: "???"

[resentment points from Theodore Nott +99!]

[resentment points from Blaise Zabini +99!]

[resentment points from Theodore Nott +99!]

[resentment points from Blaise Zabini +99!]

[resentment points from Theodore Nott +99!]

[resentment points from Blaise Zabini +99!]

Chapter 44: They Don't Deserve Pure-blood Status

"You... you filthy mudblood! How dare you insult me!" Nott finally snapped back from his shock, his handsome face twisted with rage. He struggled futilely in the air, desperately trying to pull out his wand.

Shabini, standing beside him, wasn't idle either, pouring out all the vicious words he had learned from Pure-blood families: "Just you wait! My father will never let you off! You'll be kicked out of Hogwartslike a stray dog!"

In the corner, Draco almost laughed out loud.

Shabini's mother was very beautiful; she had been married seven times, and with six husbands dead, she had inherited six fortunes, becoming a famous wealthy woman.

Now, the father Shabini was talking about—it couldn't be his mother's current husband, right?

May Merlin bless him, at least enough to last until the school backs Shabini up... Signas didn't even bother to look up. These two little Wizards just had to practice Pure-blood discrimination in public, labeling a classmate a "mudblood." If things escalated, it was uncertain who would be expelled!

His fingers moved imperceptibly, and he silently cast two more Levitation Charms.

"Mmph! Mmph-mmph!"

Nott and Shabini's cursing came to an abrupt halt.

They discovered in terror that their upper and lower lips seemed to be held tightly shut, unable to open at all.

This was much more sophisticated than a simple Silencing Charm, and far more insulting.

"See, the world is suddenly much quieter." Signas sat back down in his chair, picked up his pumpkin juice, and took a slow sip, as if he had just swatted two flies.

He turned to Daphne beside him and gave a reassuring smile: "Don't worry, I said this was just a friendly exchange."

The corner of Daphne's mouth twitched slightly. Looking at her two classmates hanging in the air like dried meat, their mouths blocked, she really couldn't associate this scene with "friendly."

She glanced uneasily at prefect Fabian walking over from a distance—she couldn't help but wonder if things reached Professor Snape, would Sig be expelled?

Not far away, Draco's heart was pounding. Goyle beside him whispered: "Boss... this move is even more powerful than last time!"

Draco nodded in deep agreement... Signas ignored the whispers around him. He focused his attention entirely on his magic.

The max-level Levitation Charm had long surpassed the simple use of "making objects float"; it was more like a subtle control over "force"—Signas could apply force in any direction and at any intensity as he pleased.

He even had an interesting idea.

What would happen if two Levitation Charms of equal strength were applied to the same object in opposite directions?

Like a tug-of-war, when the forces on both sides reach a critical point, what happens to the rope in the middle?

A playful glint flashed in Signas's eyes as his gaze fell on Nott, who was suspended in the air.

He thought about testing it on Nott now to see if it could serve as a powerful offensive method.

He raised his hand and flicked his wand lightly in Nott's direction.

Nott suddenly felt an invisible force pulling his body from the left, while another equally powerful force tore at him from the right.

The two forces countered each other, making him feel as though he was about to be torn apart!

The sharp pain originating from deep within his bones and muscles made him tremble all over, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

He couldn't make a sound, only managed to squeeze whimpers from the back of his throat as tears and snot flowed uncontrollably.

[resentment points from Theodore Nott +99!]

"Stop!"

A sharp shout rang out in the Common Room.

Slytherin prefect Fabian Hogan strode down the stairs, clearly alerted by the commotion.

He had a look of displeasure on his face, followed by several older students watching the spectacle.

"Shalk! Release them at once!" Fabian adjusted his glasses, his gaze sweeping sternly over Signasbefore landing on Nott and Shabini. "Using a Dark Curse on classmates in the Common Room—do you want to be expelled?"

Signas calmly withdrew the two Levitation Charms he had placed on Nott.

Nott immediately felt the tearing pain vanish, hanging in the air like a lump of mud, gasping for breath.

The look he gave Signas held not just resentment, but a hint of genuine, deep-seated fear.

"prefect, I think you've misunderstood." Signas stood up, meeting Fabian's gaze calmly. "First, I didn't use a Dark Curse; it's just a basic Levitation Charm that even a first-year knows. Second, I am upholding the honor of Slytherin."

"Upholding honor?" Fabian asked with a cold laugh, as if he had heard a joke. "Hanging your classmates up and beating them—is that what you call upholding honor?"

"Of course." Signas nodded righteously. "These two were practicing Pure-blood discrimination in public, yet they couldn't even defend against a basic spell of mine, and they still dare to talk big here! They have not only seriously violated school rules but also brought shame to Slytherin!"

Sig was certain that if this escalated, Dumbledore would definitely punish these two fools severely, while he would certainly be fine.

As a victim of Pure-blood discrimination and a muggle-born Wizard, he might even receive some consolation.

He glanced around at the little snakes watching the show, his voice not loud but clearly reaching everyone's ears: "I think they are weak and stupid, and they don't deserve... this Pure-blood honor at all!"

These words caused many people around to change expression. Those students, also from Pure-bloodbackgrounds but with mediocre talent and minds full of purebloodism, felt their faces burning as if they had been slapped in public.

[resentment points from Theodore Nott +99!]

[resentment points from Blaise Shabini +99!]

[resentment points from... +25!]

[resentment points from... +31!]

[resentment points from... +41!]

[resentment points from... +66!]

...A string of resentment point notifications rang in Signas's mind—many Slytherins had broken down!

Fabian's face became extremely unsightly.

He felt that Signas was making veiled criticisms and publicly challenging his authority as a prefect.

"Sophistry!" Fabian's patience finally ran out, and he drew his wand. "Shalk, I'm warning you one last time, lift the magic immediately!"

"prefect, didn't you say last time that in Slytherin, strength is the rule?" The smile on Signas's face vanished, replaced by a playful calm. "Now, do you want to personally show me what 'rules' are?"

The air in the entire Common Room seemed to freeze at this moment.

Everyone held their breath.

A first-year who had only been in school for a month actually dared to publicly talk back to and even provoke an upper-year prefect!

In Hogwarts, especially in the strictly hierarchical Slytherin, this was simply unheard of!

Draco was so nervous his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He had a faint feeling that this prefect might be biting off more than he could chew.

Daphne nervously grabbed the corner of Signas's robe and whispered a warning: "Sig, don't be impulsive..."

Signas gave her a slight nod to reassure her.

Then, looking at the ashen-faced Fabian, he gestured with his chin toward Nott and the other hanging in mid-air.

"Since the prefect wants to try, then let's go." Signas's voice showed no hint of nervousness. "Let me see if your strength is worthy of that Prefect Badge on your chest."

[resentment points from Fabian Hogan +99!]

Chapter 45: How Dare He Speak to Dean Snape with That Attitude?

Fabian Hogan's lungs were about to burst with anger.

In his year as a Slytherin prefect, no lower-year student had ever dared to provoke him so publicly—especially one who was a muggle-born he looked down on from the bottom of his heart!

If he didn't suppress this kid who didn't know the height of the heavens today, where would he put his face as a prefect? Where would his authority in Slytherin be in the future?

"You asked for it!" Fabian roared, wasting no more words. He raised his wand, pointing the tip directly at Nott, who was hanging in mid-air.

"Finite Incantatem!"

A white light shot from the wand's tip, sinking into Nott's body. This was the most common and basic counter-charm, which should have an immediate effect on most low-level magic.

In Fabian's view, for a mere Levitation Charm, a "Finite Incantatem" was enough to solve the problem.

However, a bizarre scene occurred.

The moment the white light touched Nott's body, it was like a drop of water falling into hot oil; after making a slight "sizzling" sound, it vanished without a trace.

Nott was still suspended in the air like a salted fish, the hem of his robe still tightly plugging his mouth.

"Huh?"

Fabian froze, the anger on his face solidifying and turning into bewilderment.

Suppressed gasps rang out among the onlookers.

"What's going on? Fabian's spell failed?"

"Impossible, right? That was just an ordinary Levitation Charm..."

"Could it be that this isn't the Levitation Charm?"

"How is that possible? He's only in his first year; how could he know more advanced spells?"

Malfoy's eyes widened, and the mouths of Crabbe and Goyle were open wide enough to fit an entire chocolate frog.

Although they had seen Signas's skills and been taught a lesson by him before, seeing this scene with their own eyes still had a powerful impact.

"prefect, did you not sleep well last night? Is your magic insufficient?" Signas's voice echoed eerily, carrying a hint of perfectly timed "concern," "Do you want to try again? You can aim a bit better this time."

[resentment points from Fabian Hogan +75!]

Fabian's face turned the color of pig liver, and his shame and annoyance burned through his logic like fire.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He must have been too careless just now; the magic output of the spell wasn't stable enough.

He raised his wand again. This time, he concentrated all his focus, and the light gathering at the wand's tip was much brighter than before.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Another counter-charm shot out, faster, brighter, and stronger than the previous one!

The result... was still the same.

The white light vanished again. Nott and Shabini remained suspended in mid-air, even swaying slightly from the impact of the spell.

This time, the Common Room completely boiled over.

If the first time was an accident, the second time was definitely a display of strength!

A first-year's Levitation Charm making a prefect's counter-charm fail repeatedly was simply unheard of!

Fabian's mind was completely blank.

He couldn't understand anything happening before him.

This completely exceeded his understanding of magic.

magic grows in sync with a young Wizard's growth, so during adolescence, upper-year students' magicis generally stronger than lower-years'; Fabian should have easily dispelled the other's Levitation Charm.

Yet the reality was that Fabian's counter-charm had no effect?

Was it not the Levitation Charm?

Or was some special casting technique used that could resist counter-charms?

None of the Slytherin students present knew that Signas's max-level Levitation Charm was an exquisite form of force field control.

It was like a giant net woven from countless fine threads of magic, locking the target firmly in place.

Fabian's general counter-charm was like using a small knife to chop down a forest; besides cutting a few insignificant "twigs," it couldn't shake the foundation at all.

"prefect, it seems your strength is indeed a bit... unworthy of those prefect robes." Signas shook his head, his face full of disappointment. "How about I give you a demonstration?"

Before he finished speaking, his wand tapped lightly toward Shabini in the air.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

He actually recited the incantation for the Levitation Charm again in front of everyone!

Shabini's body suddenly shot toward the ceiling, then fell heavily, stopping abruptly an inch from the ground, scaring him so much he almost lost control of his bladder.

"See that, prefect?" Signas's voice sounded like a patient teacher's. "The essence of the Levitation Charm lies in 'control.' You can make it fast, or you can make it slow. You can make it go up, or you can make it go down."

He waved his wand again.

Shabini, like a marionette, began performing high-difficulty gymnastics in the air.

One moment spinning horizontally, the next tumbling vertically, then swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

"You can even..." A hint of mischief flashed in Signas's eyes, "make him dance a Pure-blood dance..."

As soon as he spoke, Shabini began to gesticulate in the air, his movements stiff and ridiculous, like a frog being electrocuted. Accompanied by the "wuwu" sounds from his mouth, the scene was momentarily very comical.

"Pfft—"

Not knowing who couldn't hold it in first, a laugh escaped.

Immediately after, suppressed laughter spread through the crowd like ripples.

Even the usually reserved Daphne couldn't help but cover her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking slightly.

[resentment points from Blaise Zabini +99!]

Fabian's face could no longer be described by color. He felt all the blood in his body rushing to his head!

Signas had not only humiliated Nott and Shabini but also ground his dignity as a prefect into the dirt!

Just then, the door to the Common Room was pushed open with a bang.

Professor Snape, in his black robes, glided into the room like a bat, his face even gloomier than usual.

The Slytherin Quidditch captain, Muscu, followed closely behind—evidently, seeing that things weren't going well, he had gone to fetch the Dean.

"Where is Signas?" Snape's gaze swept across the room like a searchlight.

He first caught sight of Sig sitting calmly on the sofa, then his gaze moved up to land on the ridiculously posed Nott and Shabini hanging in mid-air. His already grim face instantly darkened several shades.

[resentment points from Severus Snape +66!]

This terrifying expression caused the temperature in the Common Room to plummet.

"Sig is in trouble, running into the Dean..."

"The Dean will definitely give him detention!"

"Maybe even expel him directly!"

"Who can say for sure!"

"Professor Snape has always been strict! I heard a fourth-year used a spell on a classmate and was given ten days of detention!"

Clearly, everyone believed a storm was about to descend. Professor Snape's gloomy expression was the best proof!

A look of joy couldn't help but appear on Fabian's face.

As for Nott and Shabini, their eyes were filled with the excitement of being rescued, as if they could already see the image of Sig being kicked out of Hogwarts!

Only the Draco trio didn't laugh. If Professor Snape had a way, Sig would have been severely punished last time; how could he let Sig be so arrogant... Snape paced over to Sig and said in a deep voice, "Sig, let them down first. As for them... I will personally give them detention."

As soon as these words were spoken, the jaws of Fabian and the others almost hit the floor!

Give them detention?

Nott? Shabini?

Wasn't the Dean here to punish Signas?

Clearly, it was Sig who attacked his classmates!

Why not give Sig detention?!

Sig knew he had exploited a bug in Slytherin. He estimated that Snape was likely fuming inside right now but was helpless, not wanting this matter to blow up, especially not to the Principal... But Sigdidn't want to just let it slide: "Professor, I've found that discrimination against muggle-born Wizards within Slytherin seems quite prevalent."

Daphne was stunned, as if she were meeting Signas for the first time.

How... how did he dare to speak to Dean Snape with that attitude?

Snape's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. In a place like Slytherin, if they didn't discriminate against Muggles, would they discriminate against Pure-bloods?

But he couldn't bring this matter out into the open. "I have already understood the course of events. I will handle it properly, and I believe... no similar incidents will occur in the future."

Nott and Shabini were completely bewildered.

All the spectating students were dumbfounded, their faces blank.

What's the situation?

Professor Snape can even tolerate this?

Who said his relationship with Sig wasn't good?

Isn't it very good!

They speak so casually.

Could Signas be some connected person from a Pure-blood noble family?

Otherwise, why would Professor Snape be so polite?

Seeing the other party's stance that he would handle it, Sig didn't want to keep putting on airs. He immediately pulled out his wand and released the Levitation Charm on the two.

With two "thuds," Nott and Shabini fell heavily onto the carpet.

Before the two could recover from their dizziness, they heard Professor Snape's cold voice crashing down: "You two, come to my office!"

Having said that, Snape ignored the students in the Common Room who were as quiet as cicadas in winter, turned, his black robes billowing, and left directly.

As Nott and Shabini followed Snape out, dozens of gazes mixed with awe, confusion, wariness, and scrutiny all focused squarely on Signas...

Chapter 46: How Restrained and Merciful Sig Just Was.

The atmosphere in the Slytherin Common Room became eerie because of this conflict.

The fire burning in the fireplace crackled, but it could not dispel the frozen silence in the air.

The little snakes, who had been gathered in small groups talking in low voices, all tacitly shut their mouths. Some pretended to read, others lowered their heads to play chess, but everyone's peripheral vision glanced toward the center of the Common Room, intentionally or not.

"Alright, let's continue."

Signas Shalk acted as if he didn't care about what had just happened at all. He sat back down at the low table and spoke to the blank-faced Daphne Greengrass.

"Ah? Oh... okay." Daphne woke up as if from a dream. Looking at Signas's excessively calm face, she suddenly felt he was a bit of a stranger.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something like "Wasn't that a bit too heavy-handed?" or "Aren't you afraid of offending a lot of people?" But the words reached her lips and were swallowed back down.

She knew Signas wasn't wrong.

In Slytherin, weakness and retreat only invite intensified bullying. He had simply won the respect he deserved in the most authentic Slytherin way.

It was just... this method was a bit too direct.

Daphne rearranged the chessboard, but her mind was no longer on the game.

She secretly observed Signas; this muggle-born boy was full of mysteries.

His magical talent, far exceeding his peers, and his calmness and ruthlessness when facing provocation made him seem out of place with those around him, yet he fit into the Slytherin environment like a fish in water.

He was practically more Slytherin than the most Pure-blood Slytherin.

Signas naturally noticed Daphne's gaze and felt the looks mixed with awe and fear from those around him, but he said nothing.

Because he was currently tallying his gains from this short period in the system.

[resentment points balance: 47,288 points!]

Looking at that string of shining numbers, Signas felt more comfortable than if he had drunk a large mug of butterbeer.

Flight was already at max level; there was no need to invest more for now.

The Levitation Charm had also reached the pinnacle.

So, what should he strengthen next?

Signas opened the system panel in his mind, his consciousness scanning over the skill list.

[Beginner Transfiguration], [Soothing Potion], [Cure for Boils], [Fire-Making Charm], [Lumos], [Levitation Charm], [Curse of the Bogies], [Knockback Jinx]... His gaze finally landed on [Beginner Transfiguration].

Transfiguration was recognized as one of the most complex and dangerous branches of magic.

It required the caster to have extreme focus, imagination, and magic control.

Professor McGonagall had emphasized in the first class that once Transfiguration goes wrong, the consequences could be very serious.

But conversely, the power and potential of Transfiguration were beyond doubt.

From the basic exercise of turning a match into a needle, to becoming an Animagus, to creating things out of thin air, Transfiguration was almost omnipotent.

This was definitely a skill worth investing in!

"System, upgrade [Beginner Transfiguration] level!"

"Consuming eight thousand resentment points, Beginner Transfiguration level increased to MAX (Level 100)!"

[Ding! Beginner Transfiguration has reached max level!]

[Skill Advancement: You have fully mastered the mysteries of Beginner Transfiguration; your understanding of material form transformation has reached the Grandmaster realm. You have obtained the advanced skill — Intermediate Transfiguration (0/100)!]

[Intermediate Transfiguration: Can transform inanimate objects into simple living beings (such as beetles, rats, etc.), or transform one living being into another with a similar structure. Note: This operation is extremely dangerous, please use with caution!]

In an instant, a flood of information even larger and more complex than when he upgraded Flightpoured into Signas's brain.

Countless pieces of knowledge regarding material structure, life forms, and magical models decomposed and reorganized in his mind.

This wasn't just simple formulas and incantations, but an insight that reached the very source.

He seemed to be able to see the underlying code composed of magic behind all things, understanding how to use magic to dismantle them and then rearrange them according to his will.

He subconsciously picked up a Wizard chess pawn from the table.

In his eyes, this pawn carved from obsidian was no longer a single whole. He could "see" the connections between every tiny particle that composed it.

He wanted to try Intermediate Transfiguration.

With a thought, a faint trace of magic overflowed from his fingertips, enveloping the chess piece.

Opposite him, Daphne was absentmindedly arranging the pieces when she suddenly noticed Signas's movement. The next second, her sapphire-like eyes snapped wide open.

That obsidian pawn at Sig's fingertips didn't emit any light, but like a block of wax, its edges began to soften, flow, and reorganize. Hard corners turned into a rounded carapace, and the surface patterns suddenly grew slender appendages... The whole process was silent, yet it carried a heart-pounding magic.

A few seconds later, an entirely pitch-black rhinoceros beetle was lying on Signas's palm, waving its two tiny antennae.

"My god!" Daphne couldn't help but whisper. She covered her mouth tightly with her hand to prevent a scream from escaping her throat, her eyes filled with disbelief.

This... Transfiguration, turning a stone into a living beetle?

This was content that would only be covered in third-year Transfiguration Class!

Sig... he's only in his first year!

How is this possible?

Sig himself was somewhat surprised by the effect of this Intermediate Transfiguration.

He could feel a faint magical connection still existing between himself and the rhinoceros beetle.

He could easily turn it back into a chess piece, or... let it maintain this form forever.

Is this Intermediate Transfiguration?

He smiled with satisfaction, prepared to turn the beetle back into a chess piece and return it to the board.

The beetle shook its head, seemingly retaining a bit of memory from when it was a chess piece.

It looked at Signas with its compound eyes in terror, as if looking at a god who could determine its form, and then its six legs kicked, wanting to escape this terrifying "Creator."

Signas smiled with satisfaction. The moment before the beetle flew from his palm, magic surged again.

The little beetle froze in mid-air, and then, like a video tape being rewound, it changed back into that cold obsidian pawn, falling back into his palm with a "clack."

He casually placed the piece back on the board.

"Alright, I'm done playing," Sig said to Daphne, who was still in shock. "I'm a bit tired and want to go back and rest for a bit."

He indeed needed time to digest the massive amount of extra knowledge in his head and also needed to think carefully about how to use the remaining thirty thousand resentment points.

Maybe he could do another ten-draw; it would be best to get something useful!

Or maybe go to the library to find some spells he could learn... Meanwhile, in the distance, Prefect Fabian, who had been watching this side with the corner of his eye, also saw this incredible scene.

He only then realized how restrained and merciful Sig had just been...

Chapter 47: It Was Just a Gust of Wind Outside the Window

Halloween was approaching, and the atmosphere throughout Hogwarts had quietly changed.

At the entrance of the Great Hall, Signas ran into Hagrid again.

The half-Giant was laboriously dragging something. Seeing Sig, he stopped pulling the rope, grinned widely to reveal an honest smile, and waved a hand as large as a cattail leaf fan.

Behind him, a massive pumpkin, wider than his waist, was being dragged bit by bit into the Great Hall.

The reason Quirrell hadn't sought him out lately was likely because Hagrid had no time—he had been busy preparing for the Halloween feast.

Festive decorations like jack-o'-lanterns, fake spiders, and black bats were everywhere, gradually giving the entire Castle a holiday feel.

However, the thicker the festive atmosphere, the more bizarre Professor Quirrell's movements became.

This week, he stopped going to Hagrid's and ran to the corridor on the right side of the Fourth Flooralmost whenever he had free time.

The Draco trio reported that he paced back and forth outside a door like a ghost, muttering to himself, and would even swing his fists at the air while cursing loudly.

Signas concluded that he must be planning something big.

Initially, Sig had tried to corner him once, but as soon as Quirrell saw his face, he acted as if he'd seen a ghost and turned to run.

But after that, Quirrell seemed to have vanished into thin air; he would disappear as soon as class ended, and even Draco and the others lost track of him.

Before Halloween, the last Charms Class was held with Slytherin and Hufflepuff together, learning the Levitation Charm.

As soon as class began, Professor Flitwick divided them into groups: Daphne and Pansy in one, Dracoand Nott in another, and Signas's teammate was Blaise Shabini.

Professor Flitwick's intention was clear: let the top students lead the lagging students of their respective houses.

Since the start of the term, Nott and Shabini's progress had lagged behind compared to other Slytherinstudents.

Ever since Sig publicly questioned their—especially Nott's—bloodline, the Slytherins were now somewhat doubtful: was Nott actually a Pure-blood?

After all, Nott's father was a Death Eater who had always been busy with the Pure-blood cause and had never married. Nott was suddenly brought home by his father from who knows where... and Shabini had issues too; after all, his mother had been with seven men. As for whether there were others, or if Shabini's bloodline was pure, it was hard to say!

Upon hearing the grouping, Shabini's body visibly stiffened.

He cautiously moved his stool and sat next to Signas, his hands placed properly on his knees, not knowing where to put his limbs.

The previous experience of being hung in mid-air by Signas for a "friendly exchange" still made him feel a bit apprehensive.

Signas just smiled at him as a greeting.

But to Shabini, that smile made his heart pound even more than Snape's cold face.

"Remember, gestures and incantations are both very important!" Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "A swish and flick of the wrist, the movement must be rhythmic, the incantation must be clear and pronounced accurately... think of the poor Wizard Baruffio, who pronounced the 'F' in the spell as'S', only to find a wild ox standing on his chest..."

The students began to practice, and the classroom was suddenly filled with uneven cries of "Wingardium Leviosa," but no one succeeded in casting it!

When it was Signas's turn, he didn't even really recite the spell; he just gave his wrist a casual flick.

The feather didn't drift up slowly as described in the books; instead, with a "whoosh," it shot straight toward the ceiling like an arrow from a bow!

Then, it made a beautiful hover in mid-air and began to circle and dance around the classroom ceiling, sometimes diving and sometimes spiraling, as agile as a real bird.

The entire classroom instantly fell silent, everyone staring at the feather in stunned silence.

"Exquisite control!" Professor Flitwick clapped his hands excitedly and praised in a high-pitched voice. "Five points to Slytherin!"

He had grown accustomed to Signas's monstrous performance, but he couldn't help but marvel every time.

However, as expectations rose, the points awarded had dropped from the initial twenty or ten points to the current five.

There was no helping it; that was the treatment for a genius.

After Signas succeeded, Daphne, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle also quickly made their feathers float.

Sig had coached them before, and they had previewed the material very seriously, so they naturally learned with half the effort.

The Hufflepuff side seemed a bit bleak; only Ernie Macmillan's feather wobbled up, and it was very unstable.

Seeing their classmates succeed so smoothly, the other young Wizards grew anxious, scratching their heads and raising their voices as they chanted.

Shabini tried several times, but the feather didn't budge.

He was sweating profusely with anxiety, and seeing Signas watching him composedly only increased the pressure.

He took a deep breath, threw all of Professor Flitwick's warnings to the back of his mind, gave his wand a violent swish toward the feather, and roared at the top of his lungs: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Whoosh—"

The feather didn't float; instead, it instantly burst into flames, twisting and shrinking on the table, finally turning into a pinch of black ash amidst a burnt smell.

The entire classroom went silent for a second.

Signas's eye twitched as he turned to look at the bewildered Shabini beside him.

This guy... couldn't be a hidden fire specialist, could he? To use the Levitation Charm as an Ignition Spell is quite a talent.

Truly living up to his name!

Just as Professor Flitwick was busy replacing Seamus's feather, an excited shout suddenly came from Draco and Nott's group: "I did it! Look..."

His feather had indeed left the tabletop by a tiny bit, about the thickness of a palm.

However, Draco, beside him, spoke leisurely: "It was just a gust of wind from outside the window."

Saying this, he "kindly" stood up, walked over, and shut the window that was creaking in the wind with a "bang."

Nott's feather, as if losing its final support, fell back onto the table with a "clatter."

His face instantly turned bright red; no matter how much he waved his wand or shouted the spell at the top of his lungs, the feather wouldn't budge anymore.

Suddenly, a burst of uncontrollable snickering broke out in the classroom, with even many Hufflepuffstudents covering their mouths.

Nott's face turned red from his neck to the tips of his ears, the burning shame and resentment almost enough to set him on fire.

In the evening was the Halloween feast.

When Signas entered the Great Hall, the place had been completely transformed.

The Great Hall was brightly lit and bustling with activity.

Thousands of bats circled under the enchanted starry ceiling, occasionally passing through the massive jack-o'-lanterns and casting flickering shadows.

Above the long tables of the Four Houses, almost all of Hogwarts' ghosts had arrived. They were all dressed in their finest, drifting through the air and greeting one another.

Even Peeves, who loved pranks the most, was unexpectedly well-behaved at this time, merely turning somersaults in the air without throwing anything.

Chapter 48: Mr. Quirrell, Are You There?

Sig looked up and saw the ghost of his own house, The Bloody Baron, floating in a corner of the ceiling with a cold expression.

Signas understood instantly; no wonder Peeves was so well-behaved today—his nemesis was present.

Tonight's banquet was much more lavish than usual, and even the plates had been replaced with glittering solid gold ones.

To add to the festivities, the school had even invited a wizarding band made up of skeletons.

They played creakily beside the High Table, the music cheerful yet tinged with a hint of gloom, perfectly fitting the Halloween theme.

Signas and Daphne found a spot at the Slytherin table and sat down. He speared a piece of roast meat, but his eyes habitually swept toward the High Table.

The entire faculty and staff were present tonight, not a single one missing.

In the center, naturally, was Dumbledore, wearing a set of purple robes adorned with stars and moons, his silver-white beard nearly reaching his belt.

On either side were the Deans of each house and the Professors, and at the very end were the school staff, such as Hagrid the Gamekeeper and Madam Pomfrey the Matron.

However, as Signas's gaze swept around, his brow quirked slightly.

Quirrell was not there.

His seat was empty!

Sig realized that Quirrell intended to take advantage of the banquet to make his move.

"What are you doing?" Daphne asked in a low voice, seeing Signas quietly stand up while she was poking a piece of caramel pudding with her fork.

Signas didn't look back, only mumbling a vague "It's a bit stuffy, getting some air," but his steps didn't falter as he slipped out of the Great Hall.

Just as he reached the entrance hall, he felt a little tail following behind him.

Daphne had followed him out, her deep blue eyes filled with curiosity: "Where are you going?"

"Why are you following me out?" Signas asked back, feeling a bit of a headache.

"Why did you come out?" Daphne mimicked his tone, retorting righteously.

Signas felt his head throbbing, having no idea how to explain things to this intensely curious young lady.

He couldn't exactly tell her he suspected the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone!

Setting aside how to explain the source of this information, who would even believe it!

His eyes darted around, and he made up a lie on the fly: "I'm going to the bathroom, is that okay?"

To his surprise, after hearing this, Daphne blinked her deep blue eyes and said quite seriously, "Then I'll go with you!"

"You? Accompany me..." Signas was choked up by this unexpected answer and had to surrender, "Alright, alright. I noticed Professor Quirrell wasn't at the banquet and was a bit worried. I wanted to see if something happened to him."

At the mention of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Daphne immediately perked up—after all, it was a cursed position.

"Then I'll go take a look too," she immediately declared.

Helpless, Signas had no choice but to take this tag-along and quietly creep up outside Professor Quirrell's office.

Candlelight was still glowing inside the office, and shadows flickered through the gap in the door; it seemed he was still there.

As he observed, a brilliant plan quickly took shape in his mind.

"Hehehe..." Thinking of the clever part, he couldn't help but let out a classic three-part villainous laugh.

If this plan succeeded, it would definitely thwart Quirrell's scheme and leave a lasting impression on him.

His behavior gave the little heiress Daphne a fright; she took a cautious half-step back: "What are you trying to do? Your laugh is so scary."

Signas didn't explain much, grabbing her wrist: "Come on, follow me to the kitchen first!"

"What are we going to the kitchen for?" Daphne asked, full of confusion, as she was dragged toward the basement, questioning him incessantly along the way, "Quickly, tell me, what exactly are you doing?"

Signas operated rapidly in his mind as he ran.

[Intermediate Transfiguration (0/100)]

"System, level up [Intermediate Transfiguration]!"

"Consuming ten thousand resentment points, Intermediate Transfiguration level increased to MAX (Level 100)!"

[Ding! Intermediate Transfiguration has reached max level!]

[Skill Advancement: You have gained insight into the true essence of life transformation, and your understanding of cross-species transfiguration has reached perfection. You have obtained the advanced skill—Advanced Transfiguration (0/100)!]

A torrent of knowledge, more profound than any before, flooded his mind. Signas felt his understanding of matter and life reach a new level.

He even had the illusion that he could now turn a stone into a lively, hopping rabbit.

Enduring the throbbing in his head, he grinned mischievously without looking back: "To bring some warmth to our dear Professor Quirrell, of course! For the sake of our safety, he couldn't even manage to attend the Halloween banquet. As students, how can we remain indifferent?"

He paused and continued: "We must send him a special Halloween set meal—pumpkin pasties, Toffee apples, and a large mug of Cider!"

Daphne grew even more confused. Since when did Sig become so respectful of teachers? Delivering dinner to a Professor personally? This didn't fit his usual style at all.

Hogwarts' kitchen was right next to the Hufflepuff Common Room, its entrance hidden behind a painting of a fruit bowl.

As the door opened, the warm aroma of food wafted out. The kitchen was as spacious as a small hall, with a high ceiling and a massive brick fireplace in the center, surrounded by stacks of polished copper pots.

Dozens of House-elves were bustling about, wearing tea towels emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest. Seeing Signas and Daphne, they immediately swarmed around them enthusiastically, vying to serve them.

Signas effortlessly obtained a steaming Halloween set meal and then led Daphne back outside Quirrell's office.

He picked up a golden, crispy Pumpkin pasty from the plate, drew his wand, and gave it a light tap.

Under Daphne's shocked gaze, the pasty began to squirm and transform.

The crust turned into wrinkled skin, the pumpkin filling coalesced into a pair of eyes as large as tennis balls, and two ears stuck out from the sides of its head like bat wings.

A few seconds later, a House-elf wearing a tea towel appeared out of thin air before them.

"You... you turned it..." Daphne pointed at the elf transformed from a pasty, stammering, unable to finish her sentence.

This was biological transfiguration, a very advanced branch of magic!

It was already at the N.E.W.T. level!

"Wait? You're not delivering it yourself?" Daphne regained her senses.

Signas looked at her as if she were a fool: "Of course not!"

"Don't make a sound later, hide with me!" Signas instructed. Then, he quietly pulled out a crystal vial and carefully poured the liquid inside into the cup of Cider, adding a few drops each to the Pumpkin pasty and the Toffee apple.

An entire small vial of Calming Potion, not a single drop left.

After all, it was for a Professor plus Lord Voldemort; the dosage had to be increased!

Last time he managed to hold it back for so long; this time it had to take effect immediately, letting them experience what true smoothness feels like!

Having finished all this, Signas gave an order to the "pasty elf."

The elf nodded woodenly, carried the tray on its short legs to the office door, and knocked with its finger.

"Mr. Quirrell, are you there?" it asked in a high-pitched voice.

Chapter 49: If He Doesn't Hurry, He's Going to Leak

In the office, a canvas bag was tossed carelessly on the floor, looking completely unremarkable!

The bag's mouth was open, but inside was a whole other world.

It was a massive space expanded by an Undetectable Extension Charm. A twelve-foot-tall Troll sat inside, blankly chewing its toes, a thick stench drifting out from the bag in wisps.

Quirrell had just finished its basic domestication and was preparing to release it to cause chaos according to plan.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

He shuddered like a startled cat. Quickly crawling out of the bag, he tied it shut and glided silently behind the door like a ghost.

"Who is it?" he asked in his usual, cowardly stutter.

"It's me, sir. A kitchen elf," Signas replied, controlling the Pie Elf.

Quirrell hesitated for a moment, peeked through the peephole, and confirmed there was only a House-elf holding a tray outside.

Only then did he cautiously open the door a crack.

Before he could ask, Signas controlled the "Pie Elf" to raise the tray. A sweet aroma of butter, pumpkin, and caramel immediately filled Quirrell's nose.

"Mr. Quirrell, Headmaster Dumbledore instructed us to prepare a Halloween set for every staff member who couldn't attend the feast."

The elf bowed deeply, handed over the food, and said, "May your Halloween be full of surprises!!"

With that, without waiting for Quirrell's reaction, it turned and scurried away on its short legs, disappearing around the corner in just a few steps as if rushing to deliver food to the next Professor.

Dumbledore's arrangement?

Quirrell frowned.

But the scent of pumpkin pie and caramel apples in his nose, mixed with the cinnamon and cloves in the Cider, was far too tempting.

His stomach growled traitorously, reminding him he hadn't had a drop of water since noon.

Since the food was delivered to his door, he might as well take it. To sneak into the restricted area later, he indeed needed plenty of physical strength and energy.

Quirrell closed the door, put away the bag, sat back in his chair, and began devouring the pie.

The crispy pie paired with the crisp Cider, hot and cold intertwining in his mouth, brought a strange sense of satisfaction.

After finishing two pies in a few bites and drinking a whole large cup of Cider, Quirrell felt refreshed and energetic, his previous fatigue and hunger swept away.

"This taste is really good! The Cider is also exceptionally refreshing!" He couldn't help but praise it.

After eating the last piece of caramel apple, Quirrell stood up, feeling better than ever.

He grabbed the bag from the floor and strode out of the office. He planned to release the Troll, cause chaos, and then take the opportunity to steal the Philosopher's Stone!

Sig and Daphne, who had been waiting outside for a long time, followed closely. They hid and dodged all the way, following Quirrell to the corridor leading to the Dungeons.

Now Daphne also noticed something was wrong.

Professor Quirrell wasn't attending the feast, nor was he staying in his office; what was he doing running to the dungeon corridor late at night with a small sack?

Soon, Quirrell gave her the answer.

He stopped in an empty corridor, looked around alertly, and after confirming no one was there, placed the bag on the floor, untied the knot, and then shook the bag downward like dumping trash—

*Thump!*

A massive grey-green figure crashed heavily onto the stone floor.

It was a Mountain Troll at least twelve feet tall, its skin as rough as granite, emitting an odor like a public toilet mixed with month-old unwashed socks, dragging a wooden club thicker than Sig's waist in its hand.

Daphne's mouth hung open as she stared intently at the massive creature.

"He... what is he doing releasing this monster?" she whispered to Signas, her voice carrying an unmistakable tremble.

"Shh! Quiet, he's not finished yet!" Signas patted her back, signaling her to stay calm.

Quirrell looked satisfied at the Troll, which was dizzy and disoriented by a Confundo, then turned and ran upstairs without looking back.

"Keep up!" Sig pulled the still-dazed Daphne along.

Now Daphne was completely certain Professor Quirrell was up to no good! She didn't care about being afraid and followed Sig in pursuit.

Up ahead, as Quirrell ran, his expression suddenly turned strange!

His stomach growled frantically, and a surging urge to defecate slammed against his back door without warning!

"Damn it, why does my stomach hurt now?" he cursed inwardly.

But the situation was urgent; he couldn't care about physiological needs.

He decided to hold it in a bit longer and finish his business first!

However, the more he tried to hold it, the more violent that force became.

He could only clench his buttocks and take a deep breath, thinking he wouldn't go to the Great Hallanymore but head straight for the Fourth Floor restricted area.

That big guy would surely be discovered soon, and then no one would pay attention to the Fourth Floor!

Daphne followed behind, looking confused: "He... why is he running so fast? And his posture is so weird?"

Sig chuckled.

Of course he's fast!

If he's not fast, he's going to leak!

After all, that was a whole bottle of Calming Potion!

Far more than those few sips of spiked spring water last time.

"Believe it or not, he's going to stop and stick his butt out in a moment," Signas said mysteriously to Daphne.

Daphne was stunned. "Do you know Divination?"

At this moment, Quirrell ran to the iron door of the Fourth Floor restricted room, but his already pale face had begun to turn green.

A strong vortex, like a battering ram, slammed heavily against his back door.

Quirrell's face instantly turned three shades greener.

He stopped, his body involuntarily leaning forward, his hips uncontrollably sticking out—an ominous pale yellow mist quietly released from under his robes.

"Pfft..."

A soft, muffled sound rang out.

Quirrell was still wondering why his stomach was so fragile lately. Was it because he had been too tired and his health was failing?

In the distance, Daphne's eyes widened, and she was completely stunned: "Ah! He really did stick his butt out!"

"Is that a magical ritual to open that iron door?"

"And how did you know?"

The way she looked at Signas was as if she were looking at an all-knowing master of Divination.

Sig: "..."

By now, Quirrell was covered in sweat, gritting his teeth and tensing every muscle to hold the final line of defense. He tremblingly pulled out his wand and chanted the Alohomora.

"Alohomora!"

The lock clicked open.

He pushed the door and rushed in.

However, when he saw the three massive drooling dog heads and six fierce eyes inside, he instantly regretted it.

In his normal state, he might have been able to force his way through the trapdoor guarded by this beast.

But now... all his energy was being used in a life-and-death struggle with his sphincter; even standing straight was a struggle!

[resentment points from Lord Voldemort +299!]

[resentment points from Lord Voldemort +399!]

On the system panel, bright red numbers began to jump!

Clearly, Lord Voldemort was displeased...

Chapter 50: A Smell That Makes a Dog Gag

Meanwhile, the Halloween feast in the Great Hall had reached its climax!

At that moment, the doors were slammed open.

Filch rushed in, scrambling and crawling, his face devoid of any color.

He pointed outside, screaming breathlessly, "Troll... Troll! In the dungeons, there's a Troll!"

"A Troll?!"

In an instant, the clamor of the entire Great Hall seemed to be muted, followed immediately by a surge of commotion.

"Silence!"

Dumbledore immediately raised his wand, letting magic carry his voice over everything, echoing throughout the Great Hall.

"prefects! Lead the students of your respective Houses back to their dormitories immediately!"

With the greatest Wizard of the century presiding, the students, though still panicked, stabilized significantly.

Under the organization of the prefects, everyone began to evacuate in an orderly fashion.

"This way! Don't fall behind! First-years follow first!... Make way, let the first-years through first!..."

Just as Dumbledore led the Professors hurriedly out of the Great Hall to search the Castle for the Troll,

Harry, mingling in the crowd, caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Professor Snape slipping into another corridor.

That direction... it seemed to be the Fourth Floor.

"How could a Troll get into the Castle?" Ron asked in confusion as he was pushed along by the crowd.

"I don't know, maybe someone let it in on purpose..." Harry replied absent-mindedly, his mind still on Snape's strange behavior.

But then, his expression changed, and he suddenly grabbed Ron's arm. "Where's Hermione? She's still in the girls' bathroom!"

During Charms Class this morning, Hermione had been driven to tears by Ron's hurtful words; the little girl had hidden in the girls' bathroom on the ground floor and hadn't come out yet.

Ron's face instantly became as pale as Filch's.

Harry grabbed Ron and, taking advantage of the chaos, slipped out of the flow of people and through a side door!

On the Fourth Floor, inside the forbidden room.

The room was filled with a heavy, rank stench.

Cerberus had been startled awake by the intruder. The six eyes on its three heads all flashed with a violent and hungry light, and low growls rolled in its throats like muffled thunder.

"Woo—Awoo—"

The middle head suddenly lunged forward, the sound wave carrying a physical impact that nearly blew Quirrell's purple turban off.

He instinctively took a step back, his back slamming hard against the door with a dull thud.

Quirrell tremblingly raised his wand, casting a Disillusionment Charm and an Deodorizing Charm on himself. His figure instantly blended into the surroundings.

Cerberus's growling stopped abruptly. Its six eyes scanned the area, searching for the figure that had just been there.

It sniffed the air forcefully, but likewise found nothing.

Seeing this, a hint of pride couldn't help but rise in Quirrell's heart.

This was the method he had found—simple and effective.

As expected, with someone as wise as me, how could I not succeed?!

As long as he got past this Cerberus, the subsequent obstacles wouldn't be a problem.

The only thing to worry about was the final trial personally set by Dumbledore.

But Quirrell still didn't know what that mechanism was.

However, he wasn't too worried, because his master would personally intervene when the time came.

Quirrell took another breath to steady his mind, thinking that even if he had to take a dump this time, he would do it while holding the Philosopher's Stone!

In any case, there was magic. After he was done, he could use a spell to clean it up and then ask his master to appear and start the resurrection ritual; it wouldn't cause any impact!

And as long as he didn't say anything, his master wouldn't know!

Perhaps his master wouldn't want to know anyway!

After all, at that point, the result would be good, and the process wouldn't matter!

Thinking of this, he rushed toward the trapdoor in the center of the room.

Cerberus tilted its heads and turned in circles. Finding no target, it seemed to find it boring and lay back down, letting out a yawn.

Just as Quirrell was about to reach the trapdoor, his face suddenly turned from pale to a deep purple. A surge of air came violently and fiercely, rushing down from deep within his abdomen and breaking through the constraints of his buttocks.

"Pfft—Boom—!!!"

That was no longer a simple release of gas, but a violent eruption of mixed solid, liquid, and gaseous matter!

The sound was so loud that it even created a sonic boom, echoing throughout the stone chamber.

A warm, viscous, and moist current irrecoverably broke through the final line of defense, rampaging through his trousers and instantly filling every inch of space.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment.

Quirrell remained in a half-squatting position, completely petrified, his mind a blank.

He could feel that the expression on the invisible face on the back of his head must be even more spectacular than his own right now.

[resentment points from Lord Voldemort +499!]

...Cerberus, lying on the ground, suddenly raised all three of its heads.

Although it couldn't see the person, its nose caught this newborn scent.

This smell, which would make even a dog gag, was foul, but it helped the creature firmly lock onto the target's position.

It shook its heads, its eyes showing disgust and hesitation.

But its duty to guard eventually overrode its resistance to the stench.

Its rightmost head lunged forward, opening its bloody maw to reveal dagger-sharp fangs, and bit down hard toward the source of the smell!

"Aaah—!"

Quirrell let out a terrified scream, his body's instinctive reaction faster than his brain's command.

He rolled sideways clumsily, dodging the strike by the narrowest of margins.

"Crunch!"

The dog's mouth missed but bit firmly into the heavy trapdoor, tearing off a large chunk of wood. Splinters flew everywhere.

Outside the door, Signas and Daphne heard it clearly.

First the barking, then the screaming, and finally that earth-shakingly loud noise.

Daphne was so scared her face turned pale, and she gripped Signas's arm tightly. "What... what monster is inside? Professor Quirrell... will he be okay?"

Just as Sig was about to answer, a series of hurried footsteps came from the distance.

"Someone's coming! Hide!"

Sig quickly pulled Daphne into the shadows of a nearby corner.

A moment later, a black figure arrived like the wind and stopped before the iron door of the forbidden area.

The newcomer was Snape.

When he found the latch had been opened, his already gloomy face instantly turned so dark it could drip ink, the color matching the black robes he wore.

Snape did not hesitate for a second; he kicked the door open and rushed in.

Then, he froze.

Snape had no defense prepared. A smell mixed with beastly rankness and... some kind of indescribable odor hit him like a wall, instantly filling his nasal cavity and mouth... "Blegh..."

Even someone as reserved and steady as Snape couldn't maintain his image now. He had to lean against the wall and bend over, gagging, nearly throwing up the pumpkin pie he had eaten at the feast.

It felt like taking a giant mouthful of excrement.

The only thing that made him feel slightly better was that it was just gas, not solid!

Enduring the discomfort, he stood up. This smell reminded Snape of the turban he had found near the Forbidden Forest last time.

The two smells were exactly the same!

Thus, the identity of the person who had broken in here was obvious!

Snape had no time to think further; his eyes had already seen the open trapdoor—clearly, Quirrell had already gone down!

Instantly, his heart jumped into his throat.

Dumbledore had told him that he suspected Voldemort wasn't dead, or at least not completely dead, and that this Quirrell before him might have joined the other side after going to Albania.

That would explain Quirrell's recent strange behavior and frequent proximity to the room keeping the Philosopher's Stone—he wanted to steal the stone for his master!

The Philosopher's Stone could be used to make the Elixir of Life; it was practically a miracle medicine for Voldemort's recovery!

And now, Quirrell had clearly made his move officially, and it seemed to be going very smoothly... Thinking of this, Snape's pace quickened. Just as he was about to give chase, he was blocked in front of the trapdoor by Cerberus, its six eyes glaring fiercely at the intruder.

Snape had no patience left at this point. With a flick of his wand, a red light shot straight toward the Cerberus...

Chapter 1618 - Ch: 41-50