“You… you said… what?” Quirrell trembled like a sieve, whether from shock or fear, his hands shaking so violently he dropped his cup. His already unhealthy face turned as pale as a torn mask, quivering uncontrollably in disbelief. He kept stammering, “How… how dare you! … How dare you!”
How dare she insult the wise and great Dark Lord!
And the master was right here! Listening clearly! This Riddle girl!
Sorry, Professor, you told me to speak my mind, Lucius shrugged, somewhat sympathetic to his excessive fright. Poor professor, look how scared he is—but this truly was her honest opinion: Voldemort was indeed foolish in certain aspects.
With such remarkable talent, such handsome looks, and first-rate skills in bewitching hearts, yet he didn’t cherish them.
He himself was a genuine half-blood, yet he promoted that extreme pure-blood supremacy theory, inciting unrest everywhere, wreaking havoc with massacres and torture. Not only did he heap sins upon himself, but he also turned himself into that hideous, inhuman, ghostly appearance. If that isn’t stupidity, what is?
Anyone with a bit of sense should understand: oppression inevitably breeds resistance. No matter how powerful one is, they cannot silence all dissenting voices.
Since ancient times, evil has never triumphed over good. Just look at the fate of Nazi leader Hitler.
Lucius thought to herself: Tom Riddle probably isn’t very educated! →_→
Sigh, ignorance is truly terrifying.
Although old Voldemort is her biological father by blood, Lucius genuinely feels nothing for him—not a shred of enthusiasm for a father-daughter reunion. Who would like an ugly, emotionless murderous monster?
A psychopath who killed his own father and maternal uncle—how could anyone expect him to show affection for a daughter abandoned in an orphanage to fend for herself?
Never be fooled by that handsome face, because Tom Riddle never understood love—he only wanted to possess and destroy!
Besides, the handsome face is gone now d(д)
Lucius occasionally mused: If old Voldemort’s face hadn’t been ruined, at least it would be pleasing to look at, offering a tiny bit of anticipation. But now, even the handsome face is gone, replaced by that noseless serpentine monstrosity, unbearable to behold.
Over a decade ago, he led a bunch of Death Eaters, killing a large number of innocent people, not even sparing children. Now he wants to rise from the ashes again, reigniting the flames of war.
Merlin, why don’t you just strike him dead with a bolt of lightning? Stop letting him harm the innocent.
Of course, this was just Lucius’s impassioned internal rant. What she needed to face now was a noseless old Voldemort, though calling him foolish did contain a deliberate element.
Because Lucius felt she was relatively safe for the time being—after all, she was on Dumbledore’s turf. If old Voldemort had any sense, he wouldn’t easily alert the enemy.
If she went to Quirrell’s office and ended up dead, the whole school would probably erupt: Isn’t Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place in Britain?
Lucius knew her actions were risky. If Professor Snape found out, he would surely mock her as a foolish lion that had wandered into a snake pit. But she still wanted to test old Voldemort’s attitude toward her and the limits of his tolerance.
“M-Miss Riddle, why… why would you… say that?”
Quirrell clasped his hands before his chest, trembling for a long moment as if receiving some command, then stuttered out his question again. Clearly, the Dark Lord had not yet fully decided to kill, seeming somewhat puzzled by Lucius’s attitude—not hatred or fear, but disdain.
She’d won the gamble! Lucius secretly drew a sharp breath, feeling her back go cold with sweat. In truth, she wasn’t as calm as she appeared on the surface.
“Is that so strange?” Lucius feigned innocence, speaking in a tone that suggested it was only natural. “He’s so powerful, his magical attainments so profound, and he has so many followers under him. It stands to reason he should be a greatly admired figure. But…”
Lucius clicked her tongue a few times and shook her head.
“But what?” Quirrell nearly lunged forward, desperate to shake the shoulders of Lucius, who had suddenly fallen silent. His lips trembled as if fighting each other; he could feel the Dark Lord’s blazing anger and intense curiosity from the back of his mind.
Lucius rolled her eyes, then continued, “But it seems he’s striving in the wrong direction. If he wants to make his mark, why not run for Minister of Magic? Or become Headmaster of Hogwarts? The world’s most respected, greatest wizard—someone whose very name commands reverence. There’s really no need to oppose Dumbledore. Who knows who might benefit from their conflict?”
Lucius knew her words wouldn’t change anything, because what the Dark Lord sought was immortality, not merely fame and status.
But it should be enough to handle the current situation. After all, she was expressing a touch of regret while showing great admiration for the Dark Lord.
Even if her words were impertinent, she was only a first-year student—it could be dismissed as childish innocence. Moreover, Lucius was a little Riddle; the Dark Lord surely wouldn’t be so petty and cruel, would he?
After a long silence, Quirrell, pale-faced and utterly exhausted, issued the order to leave. “Miss Riddle, you may go.”
Lucius raised a well-behaved smile and nodded. “Goodbye, Professor. This conversation was truly fascinating. I’ll keep it secret.” Not a chance!
“Goodbye.” And don’t come back! With the swift sound of a locking charm, the door slammed shut automatically, nearly hitting Lucius’s perfectly delicate nose. Was this misplaced anger?
Very well, Professor Quirrell, you won’t come to a good end! →_→
………
How strange, truly bizarre! Her mind was filled with a fog of Impedimenta—I couldn’t see her memories at all. Her thoughts were blocked by an invisible force. It’s simply unbelievable. Is she truly my descendant, a first-year student?
My Legilimency actually failed!
A voice like sand mixed with mud, cold and sinister as a serpent’s hiss, echoed gloomily, filled with anger, confusion, and a sense of uncontrollable, powerless exhaustion.
Quirrell leaned wearily against the back of his chair, carefully unwrapping the towel from his head. “Master, shall we let it go?”
How dare that first-year girl speak of the Dark Lord in such a way? Even if she might be the master’s illegitimate child, it’s unforgivable—so raged Quirrell, the Dark Lord’s devoted fan.
“She’s exceptional, isn’t she? Lusa Riddle.” The cool voice murmured softly, betraying no emotion.
“Yes, Master. That child has inherited your perfect genes.”
Quirrell hardly dared to move, doing his best not to anger the great Dark Lord. Honestly, he didn’t like that outspoken little girl just now. Though she was a very pretty girl with excellent grades in all subjects and showed him due respect, there was always an elusive, intangible, and dangerous feeling about her.
……..
“Hey, Lucius, what did that garlic head say to you?”
Oof~ actually giving the professor a nickname, Draco, you really have a sharp tongue, kid d(д)
If old Voldemort knew that this nickname “garlic head” also included him, would he give Lucius a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse?
The child’s misbehavior is the father’s fault, or in other words: the father pays for the child’s debts (￣▽￣)
Just as she reached the Slytherin corridor, she saw Draco striding over with his long legs, his face full of inquisitive gossip.
“Oh, Professor Quirrell said he wants to invite you to try cheese-flavored garlic cream soup, plus Hogwarts’ signature dish—roasted lamb chops.” Lucius gave him a teasing smile. Maybe in the future, there’ll also be a serving of “bamboo shoots fried with meat” from your dad.
“You… hmph!” Draco stormed off again, thoroughly annoyed.
I’m actually feeling a bit hungry! Lucius pondered what to have for dinner.
One serving of roasted lamb chops, two fried chicken drumsticks, a celery salad, a full glass of green apple juice, and the ever-essential pudding ice cream—perfect!