Soon, the Hufflepuff students began filing into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
As Liam glanced across the room, he spotted a familiar face.
Sheldon Dandelion.
The boy from King's Cross.
The same boy who had confidently assumed Liam was a Muggle.
Judging by the yellow-and-black robes, he had been sorted into Hufflepuff.
The moment Sheldon noticed Liam looking his way, he immediately became uncomfortable.
His face turned red.
After all, Liam had been one of the stars of the Sorting Ceremony.
A Hatstall.
A student who had worn the Sorting Hat for nearly ten minutes.
Meanwhile, Sheldon had been sorted almost instantly.
The difference between them was painfully obvious.
Remembering how proudly he had spoken at King's Cross made him want to crawl into a hole and disappear.
Fortunately, Liam had never reported the incident.
If the school discovered he had casually revealed wizarding information to someone he believed was a Muggle, punishment would have been inevitable.
For that alone, Sheldon felt grateful.
...
Once everyone had taken their seats, Professor Quirrell began the lesson.
"T-t-today..."
He swallowed nervously.
"We w-will be studying a magical creature called the K-k-k-narl."
Several students looked confused.
Quirrell continued.
"K-knarls are covered in thick black fur and possess t-two rows of sharp teeth."
"If bitten, immediate treatment is necessary."
"They are commonly found in colder regions throughout Europe and North America."
"They reproduce rapidly and are considered pests."
Liam already knew everything Quirrell was teaching.
Knarl venom appeared in several potion recipes.
Depending on concentration, it could induce dizziness, nausea, unconsciousness, and numerous other unpleasant symptoms.
More importantly—
They were ugly.
Exceptionally ugly.
Despite their harmless-sounding name, Knarls could lay hundreds of eggs at once.
Entire infestations could appear within weeks.
Most potion masters hated dealing with them.
As Quirrell continued speaking, Liam quietly activated Magical Sight once more.
Immediately, streams of magical energy became visible.
And what he saw made him freeze.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Quirrell's own magical power wasn't particularly impressive.
Blue.
Solidly blue.
Stronger than the average wizard.
Weaker than Snape.
Far weaker than McGonagall.
Nothing unusual there.
The real problem was elsewhere.
On the back of Quirrell's head.
There was another magical core.
White.
Pure white.
And Quirrell's own magic was slowly flowing toward it.
Being absorbed.
Consumed.
Liam's eyes narrowed.
That should have been impossible.
White magical power represented an advanced qualitative transformation.
A wizard first filled their body with blue magical power.
Enough compression eventually produced cyan.
Further compression created white.
It was an entirely different level of existence.
Someone like Dumbledore possessed white magical power naturally.
Quirrell absolutely did not.
So where had it come from?
Several possibilities immediately appeared.
First—
A contract.
Certain branches of Dark Magic allowed wizards to bind themselves to powerful supernatural entities.
Dangerous.
Potentially fatal.
But undeniably effective.
Second—
Possession.
Some kind of powerful spirit or undead creature attached to Quirrell.
Perhaps a legendary wizard from the past.
Third—
An unknown magical technique.
Something Liam had never encountered before.
Regardless of the explanation, one thing was clear.
Professor Quirrell was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
And therefore—
Very interesting.
...
Liam quietly activated another spell.
X-Ray Vision.
He rarely used it.
Not because it was difficult.
Because it was unpleasant.
Seeing through flesh and bone tended to reveal things most people preferred not to see.
Still, curiosity won.
His gaze passed through Quirrell's turban.
Through layers of cloth.
Through skin.
And then—
Liam nearly recoiled.
A face.
A human face.
Attached to the back of Quirrell's head.
Withered.
Hideous.
Inhuman.
Worst of all—
Its eyes were open.
Looking directly at him.
For a brief moment, the face and Liam stared at one another.
Silence.
Years of surviving among Dark Wizards saved him.
Panic was useless.
Fear was useless.
Only calm mattered.
Without changing expression, Liam casually looked away.
Directly toward Cassandra.
After seeing something horrifying, it was only natural to look at something pleasant instead.
...
Cassandra immediately noticed.
"Why are you staring at me?"
A pleased smile appeared on her face.
"Do you like me that much?"
Liam considered answering honestly.
Instead he simply nodded.
"Mm."
Cassandra looked delighted.
Then she raised her chin proudly.
"Hmph."
"Then look all you want after class."
"For now, pay attention."
"Alright."
Liam obediently lowered his gaze toward the textbook.
...
Several minutes later, after his heartbeat had finally settled, Liam began reviewing what he had seen.
A face.
A withered face.
A familiar face.
Very familiar.
He had definitely seen it before.
But where?
Liam searched his memory.
Years ago.
Knockturn Alley.
A portrait.
A Dark Wizard forcing him to kneel.
Forcing him to swear loyalty.
And the face in that portrait...
His eyes widened slightly.
Voldemort.
The Dark Lord.
The master worshipped by countless Death Eaters.
The terror who had once dominated magical Britain.
And now—
He was hiding on the back of Quirrell's head.
Weak.
Broken.
Parasitic.
The realization nearly made Liam laugh.
This wasn't danger.
This was opportunity.
A tremendous opportunity.
The sort of opportunity that only appeared once in a lifetime.
After all—
A weakened Dark Lord was still one of the greatest repositories of magical knowledge in existence.
And Liam suddenly had a very strong feeling that he was about to become rich.
....
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