Chapter 180: Curse, Terminal Illness, and I Won't Be Human Anymore!

Seeing the reward information that appeared on this new Lumos fungus variant, Ciel's eyes showed a hint of surprise. Curse Studies? This was an extremely mysterious and eerie branch of Dark Magic. Many unsolved problems in the magical world to this day are related to curses. For instance, under specific circumstances, a werewolf's bite would turn the victim into a werewolf as well. This was considered a troublesome curse that the magical world had yet to overcome. Only a very few dark wizards would study curses. Because of this, curses were something many wizards feared. This stuff was impossible to guard against completely. Many powerful wizards in history had fallen to curses. Even in the original Harry Potter story, Death Eaters tried many methods to assassinate Dumbledore. One of their plans involved using a necklace with a powerful curse. The Death Eaters weren't ignorant, yet they still pinned hopes on curses affecting Dumbledore. This showed how truly eerie curses were. "Silver-tier Curse Studies insight. Perhaps there really will be times when it comes in handy. For instance, in the original story, it was mentioned that the Resurrection Stone ring carried powerful Dark Magic curses. After Dumbledore put on the ring, even Snape's potions couldn't completely remove the curse... they could only buy Dumbledore an extra year or so of life. Because of this, Dumbledore could only hurry to make subsequent arrangements with his remaining time. Voldemort's smooth return and seizure of magical world power, besides Fudge's divine assistance, was mainly because Dumbledore died." Ciel narrowed his eyes. He didn't like Dumbledore. The old man was indeed too wary and too fond of secretly arranging others. But at least Dumbledore stood on the side of rules and order. That was much better than the chaotic situation Voldemort and his Death Eaters would bring. If Dumbledore could live one or two years longer than in the original story, Ciel might have one or two more years of a peaceful farming environment. This was crucial for him. "If by the time Dumbledore gets cursed, I can build my Curse Studies to Diamond or even Epic tier. Combined with Snape's potions, there should be hope." Then his gaze fell on this Lumos fungus variant's other reward... Quintaped Transfiguration. Now he frowned. As the name suggested, this should be the Dark Magic Transfiguration that turned wizards into Quintapeds. Speaking of profundity, it was definitely profound. After all, he had witnessed Quintapeds' eeriness. The two-faced spy had to use real skills to deal with them. This obviously wasn't something they could do in human form. If this magic fell into the hands of dark wizards mad for power, they'd probably be ecstatic. But Ciel respectfully declined. "However, this might contain deeper secrets about Drear Island. If someday in the future I need to land on Drear Island again. Especially to investigate the secrets in that temple, Quintaped Transfiguration might provide some help. If worst comes to worst, I could reference it to improve my own Dark Magic Transfiguration... that wouldn't be a loss." Only then did he nod with satisfaction. The rewards from this new variant were quite rare. As for what to call this new Lumos fungus variant cultivated with Quintaped blood, he thought about it. "Since red fur grew on it. Let's call it Red-Fur Mushroom". Then, calculating the gains from this risky landing on Drear Island, his face showed a smile. "Large quantities of Puking Pastilles. And rare variants like the Red-Fur Mushroom. Of course, there's also severely injuring the two-faced spy. This harvest was quite abundant. I just wonder what the two-faced spy's condition is now." Meanwhile, on a reef at sea, Quirrell crawled out of the water with a deathly pale face, then spat out blood. His blood showed an eerie black-red colour, emitting an extremely foul stench. A few drops falling into the sea poisoned all fish and shrimp within a hundred metres, making them float on the surface. Quirrell gritted his teeth. "Damn it. What's going on?" Voldemort's weak voice rang in his mind. "It's poison. You're poisoned... by a very eerie, complex toxin. That old fool Dumbledore, I don't know when he administered the poison." Then Voldemort took control of Quirrell's body, waving his wand. Light scattered from the wand tip onto Quirrell's body. The heartbreaking pain in his blood immediately lessened considerably. Quirrell exhaled. "Master..." Before he finished speaking, Voldemort's voice remained extremely grave. "I've temporarily suppressed the toxin. But this toxin isn't the biggest problem in your body right now. Your biggest problem now is curses." As Quirrell looked stunned, Voldemort explained. "You drank three unicorns' blood before, leaving your body with intense unicorn curses. If it were just this, it wouldn't be fatal... it would just slowly torment your remaining life. In the first few years, it wouldn't flare up violently and wouldn't affect our quest for the Philosopher's Stone. But in that damned island, that damned temple, there's another ancient, malicious curse. It's distributed in your blood, linking with the unicorn curse, becoming even more troublesome. What's worse, the toxin is also becoming increasingly connected with these curses... Every minute, every second, the toxin mutates under the curses' catalysis." At this point, Voldemort's voice carried annoyance. "This is a carefully laid trap! Dumbledore, you've done nothing but evil!" But Quirrell was now completely lost, unable to hear Voldemort's curses against Dumbledore. His voice trembling, he asked, "Then, Ma-Master... Can I still be saved?" Voldemort was silent for a moment. "I'm not good at detoxification or curse removal. Change your appearance and go to St. Mungo's Hospital." Hearing this, Quirrell's already pale face became even whiter. This meant even the Dark Lord was powerless against his condition? No... How did it come to this?! After taking a deep breath, with last hope, Quirrell magically disguised himself and then dragged his constantly agonising body to Apparate to St. Mungo's Hospital. He stumbled to the Toxin and Curse department. Just arriving, Quirrell's vision went black, and he fainted directly. When he woke up again, he was lying in a St. Mungo's Hospital bed. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils. Above him was the spotless hospital room ceiling. There were also bustling doctors in white coats. This scene made Quirrell feel reassured. He quickly asked, "What's my condition now? Can I still be saved?" The group of white-coated doctors surrounding Quirrell exchanged glances, as if silently communicating. Then one doctor stepped forward to explain to Quirrell. "Sir. I'm the director of St. Mungo's Hospital Toxin and Curse department." Then he introduced others. "This is my senior in Curse Studies. This lady is my senior in Magical Toxicology." Another white-haired old man stepped forward. "I'm their teacher. Graduated from Durmstrang, with some understanding of Curse Studies and Toxicology. I rushed over from Germany after receiving the news. I also brought several other Durmstrang professors. We can say we're the backbone of curse medicine in the magical world." Hearing the doctors' introductions, Quirrell felt increasingly reassured. He even wanted to cry. St. Mungo's Hospital was always criticised for overcharging and poor service. Who said that? Rumours, all rumours! What great service! To do everything possible to save patients, they brought in so many connections. To comfort patients, even professors of this level were kind and amiable. Quirrell swore that someday when the Dark Lord returned and he held great power, he'd definitely allocate funds to St. Mungo's Hospital! He breathed a sigh of relief. "Then my problem can definitely be solved, right?" The experts exchanged glances, showing some fanatical excitement in their eyes. Their tone gradually rose. "The problem can't be solved. But St. Mungo's Hospital can treat you completely free of charge. Ah no, if you agree to our conditions, we can even arrange for your relatives. Your name will also appear in papers..." Quirrell was stunned. "??? What are you talking about? What papers? What arrangements?!" The old man who had introduced himself earlier said with a fanatical expression. "Do you know how rare your condition is? Incredibly troublesome curses intertwined with toxins, forming symptoms never before discovered in Curse Studies. Exquisite, complex... you're now literally a living monument to Curse Studies! We can't save you, but young man, think positively. Your condition will advance Curse Studies development and curse medicine progress. Your name will shine in magical medicine textbooks. By the way, we don't know your name yet. We can name this syndrome after you... how does that sound?" The next moment, Quirrell's face turned iron-blue with anger. He drew his wand. If not for the commotion, he really would have wanted to hit these doctors with a Killing Curse. "Name it after me? Go to hell!" Quirrell angrily left St. Mungo's Hospital. But the doctors' persuasion still echoed in his ears. "Young man, reconsider. With your current physical condition, you have at most seven days left. Why not consider our conditions? Though you'd die, you'd die gloriously!" Quirrell clenched his fists tightly, eyes blood-red. "Glory my ass!" But after his angry outburst, Quirrell seemed drained of strength. He half-crouched on the ground, completely bewildered. At this moment, his heart was full of regret. Why had he been so arrogant? Why did he seek out Voldemort alone? Why did he try to control Voldemort and gain power from him? If he hadn't done this, he wouldn't have been parasitised by Voldemort or enslaved to him. He'd still be the brilliant, promising Professor Quirrell. One of Hogwarts' youngest professors! He should have lived a different life, not like now, just waiting for death. At this time, Voldemort's voice also rang in Quirrell's mind. "What. Regret it? Afraid to die?" Perhaps because death was near, Quirrell was no longer so afraid of Voldemort. Instead, he said sarcastically, "If you're not afraid to die, why do you cling to life in this state? Parasitising my body?" Voldemort laughed coldly. "But I won't die. No matter how many times I fail, I have chances to return. But you, Quirrell, you only have one chance. You can continue speaking to me in this tone and face death in fear, while I just wait for the next person to seek me. Or you have another choice..." Quirrell's pupils trembled suddenly. "What choice?" Voldemort said softly, "Is this the tone and posture you use to plead with me?" Quirrell's body also trembled. He knelt down, begging with the most loyal voice yet. "Master... I don't want to die. Please save me." Voldemort smiled. "The Philosopher's Stone. Its power can easily create new life for you." Quirrell clenched his hands. "But in my current state, I won't live past seven days. My power has also drained too severely. It's impossible to get the Philosopher's Stone in such a short time." Voldemort said indifferently, "I naturally have methods to make you last until then. Even your power can be improved." Under Quirrell's longing gaze, Voldemort explained. "Your condition is troublesome because those curses and toxins all affect humans. Entangled together, they're even harder to expel. But when I heard those curse medicine doctors talking earlier, I thought of a method. If one or two of those curses could lose effect, your situation would be simple. The key is one point..." Voldemort's voice was ice-cold. "Quirrell, you must accept the Dark Magic transformation. As long as you're not human, the unicorn curse will lose most of its effect, the Quintaped curse will become invalid, and even those toxins can no longer harm you." Quirrell's eyes widened. "Not... not be human anymore? What would I be transformed into?" Voldemort indicated he should look at his chest. There was a vial of blood. This was what he'd collected after killing countless Quintapeds on the beach. "That's Quintaped blood. I can use it to transform you into a Quintaped-like existence. Don't worry, I'll try to conceal those features... you'll just need a more spacious robe to continue blending in at Hogwarts. When we find the opportunity, we can seize the Philosopher's Stone. Then you'll naturally have a new body." Hearing Voldemort's words, remembering the Quintapeds seen on the beach, their eerie appearance made Quirrell shudder. But moments later, he bit his teeth viciously. His expression twisted. Becoming that kind of monster was fine. As long as he could live, that was enough! Sensing Quirrell's bursting desire to survive, Voldemort's voice was very satisfied. "When I met you in Albania's forests. I knew you had great potential. Now, prepare to welcome your new body... this will be a much stronger form than your current one. I need a month to slowly transform you into a Quintaped. Take leave from Hogwarts... The Defence Against the Dark Arts class doesn't need you anymore anyway." Quirrell took a deep breath. Following Voldemort's instructions, he sent Hogwarts a letter requesting a month's leave due to illness. Then he suddenly gritted his teeth. "What about Ciel? If not for him, how would I have ended up like this? Shouldn't he be punished?" Voldemort said, "He should also have been schemed against by Dumbledore... he's still loyal..." But moments later, sensing Quirrell's deep hatred for Ciel, to appease this host he still needed to parasitise, Voldemort said, "Fine. After your transformation is complete, he'll be punished. If there's a chance, you can punish him personally... is that acceptable?" Only then did Quirrell nod hatefully. Following Voldemort's guidance, he headed toward Knockturn Alley. "There. I need some experimental materials." The next morning, Ciel left the greenhouse and heard about this in the corridor. "Did you hear? Professor Quirrell is unwell... sudden illness. He's taken a full month's leave." The young wizards sighed. They now loved Defence Against the Dark Arts class. This was one of the few courses that taught them real combat. But hearing news of a month's suspension was truly saddening. A month later would be very close to finals! Ciel also frowned. Quirrell voluntarily taking a month's leave? Was he leaving Hogwarts to do something? In any case, Quirrell definitely wouldn't give up his plans for the Philosopher's Stone. A month later, he'd still return. But moments later, his furrowed brow relaxed. "A month?" His gaze fell toward the greenhouse direction. Maneater algae, Patronus tree, Devil's Snare... he seemed to see those reward orbs shining brilliantly. Not far from maturity. One month. Enough for him to be completely transformed! But besides these, he increasingly felt he needed some means to resist mental-related magic. This month's free time was perfect for learning Occlumency from Snape. With this thought flashing through his mind, Ciel began walking toward Snape's office.