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BFH# Chapter 65: A New Change
🕑 Added 2025-02-23 16:22:42 +0000 UTCNews of Quirrell fainting quickly spread throughout the school.
The next day, at the dining tables in the Great Hall, both professors and students were buzzing with discussions about the incident. Even the usually reclusive Alchemy professor and the Ancient Runes professor had made an appearance, whispering among themselves like students.
As usual, Professor Kettleburn was the most straightforward in bringing up the topic.
Lowering his voice, he leaned toward his colleagues and said:
“Hey, what do you think happened to Quirinus? I heard from Poppy that when she went to deliver a calming potion to him last night, she found that he couldn’t be woken up at all. He didn’t open his eyes until this morning—Poppy was nearly scared to death.”
“I heard that Albus is also looking into it. If Quirinus hadn’t insisted that he was fine, the school might have imposed an early curfew.”
Sitting to Victor’s right, Professor Philomon swallowed two bites of potato before interjecting in a low voice:
“There’s really no mystery here.”
“Everyone knows that no Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has lasted more than a year in decades... I have to say, that position is definitely cursed.”
Professor Kettleburn took another swig of his drink and shook his head helplessly:
“It wasn’t this bad before, though. We’re only a few months into the term! Normally, signs of trouble don’t appear until after Christmas.”
The two professors, both having worked at Hogwarts for many years, launched into a spirited discussion—after all, this had been a hot topic at Hogwarts for ages.
Ever since Galatea Merrythought, who had served as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for fifty years, retired, no one had lasted more than a year in the position.
Now, it seemed Quirrell wouldn’t even make it to the end of the year.
On the other hand, Victor had little interest in the topic. Sitting beside the two, he continued enjoying his breakfast—a combination of lemon cake and tea so saturated with sugar cubes it might as well be lethal.
…After all, Quirrell’s predicament wasn’t due to a curse.
It was his doing.
Victor had fulfilled Quirrell’s wish.
Thinking about this, Victor actually felt rather pleased.
Although he had made the decision for Quirrell in advance, giving him no time to reconsider, he had still granted Quirrell’s wish. Quirrell had seemed desperate for that formula, so Victor had simply handed over an improved version—saving him the trouble of trying to steal it.
If studied properly, the formula could certainly yield great results. And just as he had promised, it could help rid Quirrell of that bloated soul attached to him.
Quirrell should be quite happy now, shouldn’t he?
Victor felt as though he had played the role of a fairy godmother, granting another’s wish while also taking a significant step in repairing his reputation. Even if he had accepted some compensation from Quirrell—and intended to collect more in the future—surely Quirrell wouldn’t mind.
It was a win-win situation.
Victor calmly took another bite of ice cream, completely unfazed by the ongoing discussion around him, which had escalated to speculations that a powerful Dark wizard must have cursed the Defense Against the Dark Arts position—and that this Dark wizard had now returned.
However, after a while, Professor Philomon suddenly called Victor’s name, scrutinizing his face carefully before saying slowly:
“Victor, did you take a Vitality Potion this morning?”
“No. Why?”
Victor frowned slightly as he turned to look at him.
Professor Philomon studied him for another moment before hesitantly saying, “Oh, maybe it’s just my imagination. I just feel like your complexion looks a bit healthier today—not that you looked sickly before, but you do seem a little more... flushed.”
Victor’s movements paused for a fraction of a second before he responded softly:
“Is that so? I see.”
...
A long time ago, Victor had studied the nature of his condition, as well as that of Baba Yaga.
Was their appearance a result of their destined roles, shaping them into something unlike ordinary people? Or was it, in fact, a curse?
The final conclusion, perhaps, was that both were true.
Baba Yaga often said that they needed to let go of excessive attachments in their lives—only then could their minds return to normal, and with it, their souls.
But since there had been no significant changes, Victor hadn’t paid much attention to it.
He hadn’t expected an unexpected development today.
At the very least, he was beginning to grasp an understanding of fate in this world. Many of the students and faculty at Hogwarts seemed to be closely tied to fate itself, so making deals with them and fulfilling their wishes naturally yielded far more profound changes than elsewhere.
With this thought, Victor silently left the Great Hall and made his way to an empty classroom.
Then, from his pocket, he retrieved an ancient-looking mirror.
The back of the mirror was adorned with intricate, timeworn engravings, giving it an air of mystery.
At first, the mirror’s surface was blurry, but after Victor gazed into it for a moment, an image quickly formed—his own reflection:
His irises were still slightly larger than normal, giving his gaze a somewhat eerie and chilling quality—but indeed, his complexion had improved significantly. A faint flush could now be seen on his cheeks, something unmistakably human.
Now, he was merely a little paler than most, rather than looking like a walking corpse.
Victor examined himself for a few seconds before suddenly murmuring:
“Mirror, mirror, tell me—”
“Have I gained new insight or power? What form do they take?”
