Hogwarts: Who made her a professor?

Chapter 54 Cold Rainy Night

After the heavy snow came continuous rainy days, and the school became damp and muddy.

The caretaker, Mr. Filch, was also unpredictable, like someone on their period. Sometimes he would sweep the castle with a broom, and other times he would jump up and down and yell at the students who brought in mud.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team, in particular, led by Captain Wood, curled up like squid on a hot plate, braving the wind and rain to train on the pitch, and then returned to the castle soaking wet.

Captain Wood, who has transformed into a devil, is doing all this for the upcoming Quidditch match. If Gryffindor can defeat Hufflepuff in the match, they will be in the lead in the race for the House Cup.

Besides the Gryffindor house team, there was another person in the castle who seemed very energetic. Belvina, who usually lay flat, suddenly kicked over the bed and took the initiative to find something to do. She wanted to find an opportunity to talk to the school villain alone.

But since that day in the Forbidden Forest, Belvina has never been able to find an opportunity.

Whether Quirrell's schedule was too full or he was deliberately avoiding it, the conversation about this privately was delayed until the day before the Quidditch match.

That evening, in the same abandoned classroom on the fifth floor of the castle, the person standing in the shadows cast by the desks and chairs was now Quirinas Quirrell.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor looked listless, as if he had just recovered from a serious illness. He leaned against the row of tables and chairs, squinted, and listened quietly to the sound of raindrops pattering against the window.

After an unknown amount of time, the sound of footsteps mixed with raindrops in the corridor reached Quirrell's ears, and he slowly opened his bloodshot eyes.

"You're here," Quirrell said weakly. "Are you planning to join us?"

Belvina didn't reply. She walked a few steps from the door to the middle of the classroom, her swirling robe sleeves silently conveying her anger.

Yes, anger. Belvina feigned a furious expression, her diamond-like eyes icy cold, enough to send one plummeting into an ice cave at the mere sight of them.

"Quirinas Quirrell!" Belvina whispered, but her anger was unmistakable. "Are you really stupid, or are you insane?! Did you wander into the Forbidden Forest? Are you chasing a unicorn?!"

The raindrops continued to pound against the window, and Belvina was panting heavily, her chest heaving violently.

"Yes, I went to the Forbidden Forest. I was looking for unicorns." Quirrell didn't deny it. "I need unicorns, Black."

His voice trembled slightly, sounding very pitiful. If someone were easily moved to tears, they might have burst into tears.

"What are you trying to do?" Belvina demanded. "Do you want the unicorn's fur or its horn? Please, can you use your brain when you act? Don't be so reckless. Not only have you failed to find the unicorn, but you've also alerted Dumbledore."

Belvina paused, then continued, "Do you think you're very clever, or do you underestimate Dumbledore? There's no way he could have hidden all this filth from you!"

Only desperate and ruthless people would set their sights on unicorns. Even if they are on the verge of death, the moment their lips touch a unicorn's blood, their lives are saved.

However, the person who drinks the unicorn's blood will be cursed for the rest of their life, remaining half-dead, unless they obtain the Philosopher's Stone and create an elixir of immortality.

"I need a unicorn, Black," Quirrell repeated.

Quirrell slowly stepped out of the shadows. The rain outside the window had lessened, and light shone through, illuminating him and making his pale, bloodless face appear particularly sinister.

Belvina covered her mouth in surprise to prevent herself from screaming; her action was very affected, but Quirrell did not notice.

Moreover, Belvina was genuinely surprised. Only a few days had passed since their last private meeting, so how could Quirrell suddenly look like this, haggard, pale, and emaciated?

Belvina was worried about whether Quirrell would make it through the night, fearing that he might collapse on the floor while chatting and then extort tens of thousands of Galleons from her.

"Merlin, what's wrong with you?" Belvina asked cautiously, as if she were afraid that a single breath might knock Quirrell over.

"I'm fine, I'm perfectly fine, very fine, Black." Quirrell's voice was still very soft, even somewhat ethereal. "My master is growing stronger, and I can already see that day. Glory will bow down to me!"

Quirinas Quirrell spoke in a low voice about those unrealistic futures, but he wasn't trying to convince Belvina; he was more trying to convince himself not to give up the fight against fate because of the various difficulties.

Madness.

This was the first description that came to Belvina's mind.

At this moment, Quirrell was like a gambler going all in at a card table, betting everything on whether he could get the Philosopher's Stone.

"You're insane! You're a complete madman right now!" Belvina shook her head as she slowly backed away, as if terrified by Quirrell's madness. "Quirinas, you've ruined your own future."

Quirrell took a step forward and said through gritted teeth, "I had no choice. I'm not you. I had no choice at all!" His voice was still very soft, but the veins on his neck were bulging.

Even if she does nothing, Belvina is still Belvina. She can stay at Hogwarts or end her gilding and return to the Ministry of Magic to continue enjoying high office and wealth. This is her privilege, the privilege that Black has given her.

But Quirrell is different. If he does nothing, nothing will change. Quirrell will still be the same Quirrell—timid, cowardly, and ridiculed.

What's even more despairing is that Quirrell had no choice at all; from the moment he embarked on this wrong path, he was destined to go down a dead end.

"Ha!" Quirrell's laughter was loud, full of sarcasm, a mix of self-deprecation and mockery of Belvina.

He continued, "I really envy you. Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, a noble, oldest Black, you had everything from birth! You are the purest of purebloods, with endless gold in Gringotts, the option to go on a graduation trip whenever you want, and then immediately join the Ministry of Magic without even passing a test!"

Quirrell became more and more agitated as he spoke, his whole body trembling like a willow in the wind or a duckweed in the rain.

"Your parents were your master's classmates, your brothers and sisters once stood proudly beside him, and even you yourself earned his trust and were willing to serve him. But what about you? You actually refused!"

Quirrell tonight was completely different from the last time they met. Tonight, he was manic, vulnerable, and even said things that he had only dared to think about before.

Bang!

Smoke and dust rose everywhere.

Belvina first lifted her leg and kicked Quirrell hard, then quickly stepped forward and bent her elbow into his chest, pressing her acacia wand against his face.

The whole sequence of actions was so fast that Quirrell not only had no time to react, but he could only suppress his coughs.

"Ahem—what's wrong? Did I hit a nerve?" Quirrell tilted his head and said with difficulty, "I hit a nerve, Belvina Black!"

The silent Belvina spoke, her voice as cold as if it came from hell.

She said, enunciating each word clearly, "I used to think you were just stupid, but I never imagined you were not only stupid, but a complete idiot. I admit I owe a lot to Blake for getting to where I am today, but you actually think I could have gotten this far just because of a surname?"

It's good to have a powerful backer. Without the wealth and status of the Black family, Belvina wouldn't have been able to leave so easily. But if it were only Black's wealth and status, she would have been devoured long ago, leaving not even a trace.

"You're like a frog in a well, a worm that can only live one summer—pathetic and laughable. Even if I have a thousand faults, I'm still far better than you, Quirinas Quirrell."

Belvina continued, "Your blind vision and incurable arrogance doom you to be a weak loser for life. The only thing you're better than a troll is that you can wield a wand like a baboon."

If Belvina had only been feigning anger before, she was now genuinely angry, and it seemed she had suddenly lost control of her emotions.

The anger that had been building up since the summer of 1991 erupted at this moment, as unstoppable as an erupting volcano.

"Still so arrogant!" Quirrell said dismissively. "If we were in each other's shoes, I would definitely do better than you. You're useless, Belvina Black. Do you ever cry for your mother in the middle of the night?"

Belvina's last shred of reason was about to crumble; she gripped her wand even tighter with her right hand, as if she wanted to poke a hole in Quirrell's face.

"I think your master may be looking for a new servant, Quirinas."