"Croak — —"
Almost ten seconds had passed.
Not only did the sound not weaken, it grew louder and more miserable.
It was like a wail from the depths of the soul, making people's hair stand on end.
But Quirrell didn't seem inclined to stop.
Instead, he seemed to enjoy it more and more.
Develo could feel that the power of the Cruciatus Curse was gradually increasing!
Quirrell was learning more and more through the process!
A girl nearby had gone pale.
Her hands were tightly clenched into fists, her fingernails deeply embedded in her palms.
Her eyes were filled with fear and sympathy, but she didn't dare to step forward to stop it.
She could only watch helplessly.
Most of the students reacted the same way.
Just then—
Wells suddenly stood up.
His eyes were filled with anger as he shouted loudly, "Stop!"
He threw the thick textbook in his hand fiercely at Quirrell, trying to interrupt his spellcasting.
However, just as the book flew through the air—
Bang!
It was shattered into countless scraps of paper by a swift spell!
The class turned their heads in shock.
They saw Marcus—Quirrell's assistant—holding his wand, staring coldly at Wells.
At that moment, the toad's miserable cry stopped.
Quirrell finally released the Cruciatus Curse.
He turned around leisurely, a sneer briefly flashing across his face—
then quickly replaced by a gentle, almost kindly smile.
As if the cruelty just now had never happened.
Suddenly, a mechanical prompt echoed in Develo's mind:
[Ding!]
[New spell has been added to the library!]
Develo curled his lips.
The Cruciatus Curse was now in his hands!
But he didn't have time to examine it closely.
He was more focused on Quirrell's strange behavior.
Quirrell leaned slightly against the podium, his eyes sweeping across the students.
There was a faint sense of oppression hidden in his gaze, as though he was savoring their fear.
This wasn't like Quirrell at all.
"How was that, students? Did you see it clearly?"
Quirrell's voice was gentle, with no trace of emotion—
not even his usual nervous sharpness.
It was as if he were simply explaining the most ordinary of spells.
He waved his wand lightly.
The scraps of paper that had exploded in the air swiftly reassembled,
stitching themselves back into the thick textbook.
The restored book floated back into Wells's hands.
Wells caught the book tightly, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing more.
Then Quirrell reached out and calmly pressed down Marcus's still-outstretched arm.
"Relax, Marcus," Quirrell said warmly, "It seems your new wand suits you well."
Marcus nodded slightly and stepped back from the podium.
Develo was shocked at the mention of Marcus's wand.
Wasn't Marcus's wand confiscated by Professor Flitwick?
Where did this new one come from?
Not only that, but Quirrell's entire demeanor had changed.
Develo narrowed his eyes at him.
The timid, hunched Quirrell was gone.
He now stood tall and straight, his shoulders squared confidently.
He looked taller—more like a fox that had just caught its prey.
This performance was too confident.
Could it be that casting the Cruciatus Curse rekindled Quirrell's Death Eater instincts?
At that moment, Quirrell was still scanning every student with his sharp gaze.
Suddenly, he seemed to notice something outside the window.
His face changed instantly.
His neck shrank back.
His arrogant posture collapsed.
He immediately opened his textbook.
"Ahem, everyone... everyone, please turn to page... seventy-four. Yes, yes, page seventy-four," he stammered.
His eyes kept darting out the window.
Develo naturally noticed his reaction.
He also turned to look outside—
but besides a few owls flying by, there was nothing unusual.
Back in the classroom, Quirrell had resumed his boring, timid lecture.
The confidence from earlier seemed to have vanished like smoke.
Develo, having memorized "Encounters with Faceless Monsters" a week ago,
found listening to the lecture pure torture.
He even thought he could teach better than Quirrell himself.
Gradually, the students' initial fear faded.
They began to treat Quirrell the way they always had.
Someone even dared to pat Wells on the shoulder,
expressing admiration for his bravery.
Wells was pleased with the attention, holding his head high for the rest of the class.
Fortunately, Quirrell announced the upcoming topics—
Inferi, resisting the Imperius Curse, and methods to defend against Dementors.
Develo's eyes lit up at the mention of the Dementor defense method.
The Patronus Charm!
He had long been eager to know what form his Patronus would take.
But then he remembered something.
"Wasn't I planning to report Quirrell as a Death Eater today?"
Develo scratched his head.
Quirrell had just promised to demonstrate the three Unforgivable Curses again during review.
He could even learn the Killing Curse!
Plus, with the Patronus Charm coming up...
If Quirrell was caught now, who would teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?
Dumbledore might not even find a replacement professor.
Even if he did, Ministry regulations would prevent him from learning the Killing Curse.
Develo hesitated.
While he was still struggling internally, Quirrell suddenly turned to Marcus:
"Marcus, please help me bring the large calipers from my office, and also the paper bag on my desk."
Marcus nodded blankly and ran out the door.
Watching his friend's back, Develo took a deep breath.
In the end, he decided he would still report Quirrell after this class.
He couldn't let his friends fall deeper into danger.
"There will be plenty of chances to learn spells in the future,"
Develo reassured himself.
"I still have seven years at Hogwarts. No need to rush."
Having settled on a plan, Develo refocused on the spells he had just acquired:
[Spell Library: Imperius Curse (Beginner), Cruciatus Curse (Beginner)]
Looking at the library's content, Develo frowned.
The Imperius Curse would be easy to practice on Aier, his helper.
But the Cruciatus Curse...
He couldn't bear to use it on Aier.
If Aier died prematurely, he'd have no one to assist with storage.
He had to choose a different target carefully.
Dong! Dong!
Develo snapped out of his thoughts.
It was Quirrell knocking on the blackboard.
From beneath the podium, Quirrell took out a paper bag—
probably brought back by Marcus.
"Students," he announced,
"you'll be taking the N.E.W.T.-K exams next year.
You've already passed O.W.L.s, so you know how important these are.
Starting today, there will be quizzes every class."
The students immediately wailed.
Their hatred for exams was practically ingrained in their bones.
Develo, however, was completely unbothered.
Thanks to his [King of Exams] entry,
he could instantly grasp the answers to most questions—
it was just that his hand speed limited him slightly,
so it still took him about ten minutes to finish.
Meanwhile, Wells sneered.
He whispered to a nearby classmate,
"That first-year kid? He won't even get one question right.
He's been daydreaming the whole class, acting like he's too good for this."
The others nodded, agreeing.
They had also noticed Develo's apparent distraction.
In their eyes, the "legendary little hero"
was just another arrogant first-year after all.
(Though, riding a horse into the classroom earlier had indeed been quite impressive.)
Then—
ten minutes later—
They stared in shock as Develo neatly put down his still-smoking quill,
walked up to the podium,
and handed Quirrell his finished parchment.
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