After years of planning, countless schemes, and endless preparation, Voldemort had ultimately fallen because of a newborn child.
How could someone as prideful as him ever accept that?
The fact that he hadn't already murdered Harry on sight was only because he was exercising the last remnants of restraint.
Harry stood up awkwardly under Quirrell's icy stare, completely confused about why the question had suddenly been directed at him.
He had no idea he was already hovering dangerously close to death.
For some reason, Quirrell's expression at that moment reminded Harry strongly of Snape.
Perhaps fear really did stimulate the brain, because Harry's usually dormant instincts finally activated.
"I-I'm sorry, Professor," he stammered weakly. "I don't know."
"Don't know?"
Voldemort froze.
You don't even know how your parents died?
What kind of useless upbringing was this?
His gaze toward Harry instantly became suspicious.
"What is the definition of dark magic?"
"I… I don't know, Professor."
"How many classifications of spells exist?"
"I have no idea…"
"What are the necessary conditions for casting magic?"
"I don't know!"
Harry kept shaking his head frantically while answering question after question.
By the end, Voldemort looked close to exploding.
He could accept losing to a legendary wizard like Dumbledore.
He could accept losing to someone like Grindelwald, who had once shaken all of Europe.
He could even accept defeat at the hands of a genius like Lucien.
But this thing in front of him?
This clueless child who knew absolutely nothing about magic?
To lose to someone like that was the greatest humiliation of Voldemort's entire life.
Lucien lowered his head slightly, trying desperately not to laugh after seeing Voldemort's expression.
What exactly did he expect from a boy raised entirely in the Muggle world?
If Harry hadn't learned bits and pieces from Hagrid and Ron, he probably wouldn't even understand the basics of the wizarding world.
The real problem was that Voldemort had never gathered proper information on Harry at all.
Ever since being destroyed by his rebounding Killing Curse, Voldemort's fragmented soul had survived by hiding inside rats, snakes, and other creatures.
Even after attaching himself to Quirrell, his focus had remained entirely on resurrection.
He simply never cared about Harry's actual situation.
Besides, from Voldemort's perspective, Harry was a famous pure-blood wizard, the so-called saviour of the magical world, and heir to the Potter family.
Dumbledore should have personally nurtured him into an elite wizard.
Yet the reality was…
Hopeless.
Completely hopeless.
Voldemort forcefully suppressed the fury rising inside him before gritting out the words coldly.
"Mr Potter, because of your ignorance, Gryffindor loses five points."
Harry looked utterly wronged.
"Sit down."
Harry obeyed miserably, feeling once again that everyone at Hogwarts seemed determined to target him for no reason whatsoever.
Meanwhile, Voldemort's mood had already been ruined completely by Harry's existence.
The remainder of the class lost all momentum after that.
Once the lesson finally ended, Lucien immediately prepared to leave.
"Mr Grindelwald."
Quirrell's voice suddenly stopped him.
"Please stay behind for a moment."
Lucien's eyes narrowed instantly.
He glanced toward Draco and the others nearby before subtly gesturing for them not to wait.
Voldemort's methods were far beyond what first-year students could resist.
Draco and Theodore were future core members of his faction. He absolutely could not allow them to become involved.
"Professor Quirrell," Lucien said politely, "is there something you need?"
"I believe I mentioned several days ago that we would meet again."
Quirrell's face carried a strange smile.
"Surely you won't reject my invitation this time?"
Seeing Lucien hesitate, Voldemort casually shifted his gaze toward Draco and Theodore in the distance.
The meaning behind that glance was unmistakable.
"Or perhaps," he continued smoothly, "you'd prefer Mr Malfoy and Mr Nott to accompany us instead?"
His smile deepened slightly.
"With their curiosity toward magic, I'm sure they would happily accept."
Threat.
A blatant threat.
The meaning was crystal clear.
Come willingly.
Or Voldemort would target Draco and the others instead.
Lucien's expression remained calm, but inwardly he was already cursing furiously.
He couldn't gamble with Draco's safety.
Finally, he bowed slightly.
"It would be my honour to accept the professor's invitation."
Following Quirrell, Lucien eventually arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts office.
The moment the door closed behind them, the atmosphere changed completely.
"Mr Grindelwald," Voldemort said calmly, "with your intelligence, you must already know what I am."
Without other students present, he no longer bothered maintaining Quirrell's cowardly act.
The terrifying confidence of the Dark Lord returned fully.
The way he looked at Lucien resembled a predator examining prey.
Lucien chose to play along.
"You're not Professor Quirrell," he said quietly. "So who are you?"
"Allow me to introduce myself."
Quirrell slowly sat down behind the desk.
"My name is Tom Riddle."
Then his lips curled slightly upward.
"Though you may know me better by another name."
"Voldemort."
Lucien's calm reaction immediately caught Voldemort's attention.
There was no fear.
No shock.
Not even surprise.
"I knew my instincts were correct," Voldemort said softly. "You are one of the few people who don't fear my name."
Then understanding appeared in his eyes.
Of course.
How could the son of another Dark Lord fear him?
"So," Lucien asked calmly, "you brought me here simply to introduce yourself?"
"Of course not."
Voldemort slowly rose from his chair.
"Mr Grindelwald, you possess the bloodline of a Dark Lord. Do you truly intend to waste your talent at Hogwarts playing games beside Mudbloods?"
His voice became increasingly persuasive.
"Swear loyalty to me."
"I will lead you to the summit of the magical world."
Lucien remained silent for several seconds.
In truth, he had already guessed Voldemort's intentions long ago.
His talent.
The Saints.
His bloodline.
All of them were things Voldemort coveted desperately.
Naturally, the Dark Lord wanted to recruit him.
Unfortunately…
Lucien had absolutely no interest.
Two nights ago, Voldemort could have attacked him easily in the empty corridors. Hardly anyone would've known where Lucien had gone.
But now?
Dozens of students knew Lucien had entered Quirrell's office.
Voldemort would never risk exposing himself publicly.
As for the Imperius Curse…
That required Voldemort to actually overpower him first.
Occlumency was highly effective against mental intrusion magic, including the Imperius Curse. And the current Voldemort was still trapped in a half-dead state.
Trying to control Lucien's mind now would be laughable.
"Mr Voldemort," Lucien finally said calmly, "my loyalty cannot be purchased with a few empty promises."
He looked directly into Voldemort's eyes.
"From any perspective, both my position and the Saints' current situation are far superior to yours and the Death Eaters."
"Aren't they?"
Surprisingly, Voldemort didn't become angry.
Although Horcruxes had twisted him into something cruel and unstable, he was still the Dark Lord who once built the massive Death Eater organisation.
His self-control far surpassed ordinary people.
Many times, he simply chose not to restrain himself.
Slowly, Voldemort stepped closer.
"Mr Grindelwald," he said quietly, "everything the Saints possess exists only because of your father's reputation."
His scarlet eyes seemed almost hypnotic.
"But how much longer can he survive?"
"Three years?"
"Five?"
"I have always known my father's death is inevitable," Lucien replied calmly.
Then—
A faint blue glow suddenly flashed within his eyes.
The next second, crimson light exploded forward.
"Expelliarmus!"
Voldemort's expression changed instantly.
It was almost as though Lucien had predicted his attack before it happened.
....
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