Having escaped famine, I was accepted into Hogwarts.

Chapter 67 More Money Required

Chapter 67 More Money Required

Kane handed the panpipes to Professor Quirrell.

"I really put in a lot of effort this time, and I can blow it a full ten times. I think that should be enough for you, right?"

When Quirrell heard the panpipes that could be played ten times, he felt like he was floating on air: "Th-thank you, you did a fantastic job."

"So, the Forbidden Forest? Are you going? I can help you obtain some rare materials."

Kane raised an eyebrow. Although he had enough materials, it wouldn't be a big deal to accept Quirrell's invitation.

Dumbledore was right. Whether it was stealing the Philosopher's Stone or taking away his own Shadow, the commotion would be enormous. Quirrell couldn't possibly do it in stages, because that would alert the enemy. So at least until Quirrell carried out his plan to steal the Philosopher's Stone, he was still safe. And going to the Forbidden Forest with Quirrell today would be a good opportunity to see the true colors of Quirrell and Voldemort behind him.

Know yourself and know your enemy.

"Would you mind waiting a moment? I'll write a letter to my friends."

Quirrell nodded. "Of course."

Kane tore off a piece of parchment and wrote down that he would most likely not be going home to sleep that night. He then summoned a bird to deliver it to the headmaster's office before looking at Quirrell.

"We can set off now."

"That's...great! Let's go!"

The two wizards, one large and one small, slowly left the castle and headed towards the Forbidden Forest in the distance.

Quirrell spoke just as the two were about to enter the woods.

"Kane, aren't you curious why I came to the Forbidden Forest?"

Kane gave Quirrell a strange look: "Not really. Every professor does something odd or strange in the Forbidden Forest, more or less. And why aren't you stuttering anymore?"

Quirrell ignored Kane's last question and simply chuckled twice: "Seriously, Kane, I think you have talent."

"So? In what way?" Kane pursed his lips helplessly. He was already regretting coming here with Quirrell. Perhaps it was because Quirrell didn't stutter, or perhaps it was because of Voldemort's name on his back.

In short, Quirrell has now evolved into a riddle-man; talking to this kind of person for three sentences is no less than 45 minutes of fasted cardio.

"In many ways, Kane, you know, I'm going to die." Quirrell, or rather Voldemort, suddenly stopped, turned around, and looked at Kane.

He thought about it for a long time and finally decided to trust his intuition. After all, he could smell the dark magic aura in the child's body that could soften bones from a distance.

It would be almost impossible for someone like Kane to gain Dumbledore's trust, and Kane probably dislikes Dumbledore as well.

And most importantly, the Quirrell he's currently possessing is really useless. If it weren't for his timely intervention and Kane's panpipes, Quirrell wouldn't have been able to handle even a unicorn.

With Kane around, the panpipes can be ignored. As long as Kane can use his shadow magic skillfully, my infiltration of Hogwarts will be much smoother.

Therefore, he now needs to have an open and honest deal with Kane, using what he can offer in exchange for Kane's current help.

As for whether this bargaining chip will actually be honored... well, we'll have to talk to his magic transfer altar about that later.

Of course, it doesn't matter if the negotiations don't go smoothly; his Soul-Stealing Curse might still be useful.

Voldemort looked at Kane's confused expression with what could be described as eager eyes.

"Why do I look like I'm the one with little time left, just by looking at our complexions when we stand together?" Kane replied, frowning.

Voldemort was stunned for a moment, as if he had swallowed a pile of dung. Kane's abstract answer was like choosing "or" from two options: yes or no, giving one the urge to pull out a wand and devour a melon.

Voldemort could only continue leading Kane deeper into the Forbidden Forest, guiding him as they went: "Aren't you curious why I came to the Forbidden Forest?"

"Everyone has secrets..." Kane had barely finished speaking when he sensed that the atmosphere around Voldemort, who was not far ahead, had become even colder. Oh well, he might as well play along a little.

"You said you're dying, so there's something in the Forbidden Forest that can prolong your life?" Kane wrote the standard answer directly on the test paper, and Voldemort finally felt that the situation was back under his control.

"You're very clever, Kane. I came here to find something to prolong my life—unicorn blood—but unfortunately, those are only temporary."

After Voldemort finished speaking, Kane merely nodded mechanically. However, he quickly realized he had to cooperate and asked somewhat helplessly, "Is unicorn blood just a temporary solution? Is there anything that can completely solve your problem?"

The wind whistled twice in the Forbidden Forest, and Kane unconsciously turned up the flame in the thermos in his pocket a little bigger.

Voldemort, meanwhile, thought to himself with satisfaction, "Finally, they've taken the bait!"

"Do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?" Voldemort said quietly.

Kane awkwardly scratched his chin. He knew all too well about the Philosopher's Stone; it was currently hanging inside his collar. However, to play along with Quirrell, he shook his head: "I don't know."

Having obtained the complete script from Dumbledore beforehand, Kane successfully lured Voldemort into becoming his confidant through his high emotional intelligence. At this moment, Voldemort could only wonder how there could be such a perfect straight man in the world.

However, he still didn't forget the important matter. He told Kane the whole story he had come up with on a whim: Dumbledore had the Philosopher's Stone, a miraculous elixir, but he was stingy and hid it away, refusing to give it to the professor to save his life.

Dumbledore? Stingy?

Kane recalled Dumbledore, who could conjure up the Philosopher's Stone with a wave of his hand, and couldn't possibly put those two words together. However, on the surface, he still responded with a series of "hmm," "ha," and "nods"—a three-part combo.

"Dumbledore is so wicked!"

Fortunately, the Forbidden Forest was unusually dark at night, and Quirrell was the one walking in front; otherwise, he was afraid that he would not be able to hold back his laughter and that Voldemort would see it and become alert.

"Don't talk about your headmaster like that, Kane. Perhaps he has his reasons? We can't judge him on that level. Of course, Death is coming for me, so I have my reasons for doing this too. They can't judge me on that level either. So Kane, would you do me a favor?" Voldemort slowly stopped in his tracks.

He crouched down and pointed to the pure white unicorn not far away, which looked as if it had stepped out of an oil painting.

"For my life, use shadow on it."

Kane took out his wand, but had no intention of casting a spell: "Professor, I would very much like to do something to prolong your life, but as far as I know, wizards who have harmed unicorns have never had a good ending."

"You mean..." Voldemort asked quietly.

"You need to pay more!"