Hogwarts: Not Even Voldemort Can Stop My Learning

Harry felt as if his heart had been submerged in icy lake water, slowly draining the warmth from his body. His stomach clenched, his mouth tasted bitter, and he even felt a little nauseous.

"So… Quirrell is… is…"

"Voldemort," Wade reminded him. "To be precise, he's possessed by Voldemort."

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Michael said, his face pale, "Don't say that name again, Wade."

Wade sighed helplessly. "If you're afraid of just a name, how did you manage not to tremble in front of Professor Quirrell?"

"How can that be the same?" Michael retorted. "Professor Quirrell is a coward, but that person… that person he…"

Michael shivered, then silently closed his mouth, as if struggling to breathe.

Wade looked at the others, seeing only expressions of profound dread, even Hermione seemed very frightened.

How odd.

Wade thought.

They dare to confront him, but they don't dare to say his name?

Harry, however, had no such reservations. He said plainly, "So Voldemort wants to return, and he didn't just send two subordinates to steal the Philosopher's Stone for him… he actually came himself…"

"Yes – in the form of an attachment, secretly slipped in, hidden behind Quirrell's head," Wade said. "He's enveloped by the smell of garlic all day, and he even has to endure mischievous students throwing snowballs at his face. Think about it, they thought they were ambushing the timid Quirrell, but they were actually hitting Vol… uh… the Mysterious One's face…"

Considering most people's feelings, Wade refrained from directly saying Voldemort's name again. His words made everyone feel both fearful and amused, and even Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"But…" Harry said, troubled, "why wouldn't Dumbledore let you tell me? I mean, I have a right to know the truth, right? Voldemort killed my parents!"

"Dumbledore was protecting you, Harry," Hermione explained. "He seems to be worried that if you knew the truth, you might… you might seek revenge on the Mysterious One, and that would be too dangerous."

Harry was a forgiving person. Hearing that the Headmaster acted out of concern for him, his anger over being kept in the dark gradually dissipated. But he still didn't understand: "Then why don't they just capture him now? Before he's prepared, everyone could act together. Could Quirrell and Voldemort still escape?"

"I guess – well, it's just a guess – based on what Professor Dumbledore said…" Wade began. "Eleven years ago, that person did die, but for some reason, he didn't die completely. He's somewhat like a ghost, unable to be imprisoned or killed. If they act rashly, they'd probably only catch Quirrell, and Voldemort would still escape—"

"Don't say that name, Wade," Michael whispered.

"…Alright." Wade continued, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still has the ability to return a second, third time… you never know when he might appear…"

Someone shivered silently.

"—It's like knowing there's a poisonous snake in your house, but you don't know where it is, yet it can slither out of the shadows and bite you at any moment… Compared to that situation, keeping this poisonous snake under your nose is a bit more reassuring, right?"

"But… wouldn't Dumbledore be worried that Quirrell might actually steal the Philosopher's Stone, and then Voldemort would regain his former power, and even become immortal?" Harry asked again.

"—I told you not to say that name," Michael grumbled. "Since Dumbledore knows everything, he must have set up an inescapable trap where the Philosopher's Stone is, just waiting for Quirrell to steal it! But that guy is too cautious; he's procrastinated for so long without making a move."

"Maybe he realized it's a trap?" Ryan suddenly said. "But his desire for immortality keeps him hovering near the bait, unwilling to give up… maybe he's waiting for a foolproof opportunity…"

"What would count as a foolproof opportunity?" Theo asked.

"It must be—" Harry clenched his fists. "When Dumbledore leaves the school! Because Dumbledore is the only person he fears!"

…

In the following days, the young wizards began to pay unprecedented attention to Dumbledore's schedule. If they saw the white-bearded wizard eating in the Great Hall, the rest of the day would be peaceful; if they didn't, they would immediately become anxious, doing everything they could to ask the professors if Dumbledore had gone out.

However, they soon had to devote most of their energy to another matter—exam week had arrived.

For students, in a sense, the terror of exams was on par with the Dark Lord, even for Hermione, whose grades were already excellent.

Most subjects at Hogwarts had exams divided into two parts: a written test and a practical application. The written test was held in a large classroom that could accommodate all students in the year, and they had to use new Quills enchanted with anti-cheating spells; the practical application varied widely, with professors setting their own questions, such as Professor McGonagall requiring students to transform mice into exquisite snuffboxes.

For Wade, the content of all exams was simple, and the practical application was more like a personal show. Judging by the professors' satisfied smiles, he was sure to have an impressive report card.

The last exam was A History of Magic—ever since Wade had organized his A History of Magic scrolls, he rarely spent time on this subject, only cramming the knowledge points right before the exam. After finishing the paper, Wade confirmed his accuracy rate was over ninety percent, which was sufficient for him.

Today was also Thursday, the day Professor Murray taught him Alchemy. After the exam, the students cheered, celebrating their newfound freedom, while Wade exchanged greetings with Michael and headed towards the Astronomy Tower as usual.

Professor Murray was fiddling with a microscope. Seeing Wade enter, he exclaimed admiringly, "Look, how wonderful—Muggles use this machine to observe all sorts of tiny structures, including the countless cells within the human body."

He enthusiastically taught Wade how to prepare slide specimens, how to adjust the light and focus. Wade didn't mention that he had learned it all before. He followed Professor Murray's steps to observe worm eggs and moth wing sections, and only then did he bring up his recent progress in Alchemy.

"I'd like to show you this—"

Wade said, taking a box out of his bag. At that moment, he noticed the Book of Friends placed nearby was glowing faintly. Wade paused slightly, then closed his bag and placed the blue-gray box, only the size of a Pencil Case, on the table.

Professor Murray's eyes lit up. "You succeeded so quickly?"

"It's only a preliminary result."

Wade reached out and opened the box. Inside, there were a few Quills and ordinary pens, clearly visible to the bottom; this seemed to be all. Then he closed the lid, tapped it with his Wand, and the Pencil Case seemed to flip like book pages, expanding, extending, stretching…

A moment later, a wardrobe taller than a person stood in the center of the room.

Wade pulled open the door and chuckled, "Professor, perhaps you'd like to step inside and take a look?"

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