Ten minutes later, in the classroom.
"Hello, hello, hello students, please, please open, open your textbooks..." Quirrell's voice grew smaller and smaller.
He spoke with a stutter, and even when he went to the blackboard to write, he hunched his shoulders, writing a word and then glancing around as if he were afraid of something.
Throughout the entire class, aside from writing a few words on the blackboard at the beginning, Quirrell never left his seat.
He held the textbook the whole time, reading in a very small, dry voice from the podium.
The students sitting in their seats couldn't help but cover their mouths and noses, knowing it was impolite, but they couldn't help it; Quirrell's smell was simply too overpowering.
Hoare stared at the back of his head, wondering if the Dark Lord wouldn't be suffocated to death.
Imagine, the first Dark Lord to be suffocated to death; he would surely go down in the history of magic.
Hoare didn't act immediately; after all, only by stepping in when everyone was at their wits' end could he demonstrate his importance by saving them.
Although Quirrell's smell was masked by a lot of garlic, Hoare could still detect the underlying stench of decay beneath it.
A body can only house one soul; at first, it might be fine, but over time, the body can't withstand the power of two souls and begins to collapse.
A collapsing body emits a rotten stench and unbearable pain.
Even if one soul is removed, this damage is irreversible.
Hoare wondered what kind of potion the Dark Lord had fed Quirrell to make him willingly endure such pain to support him.
Halfway through the class, Zabini tugged on the protagonist's sleeve, leaning into Hoare's ear with a buzzing whisper, "Hoare, when are you going to act?"
Malfoy covered his mouth and nose with his hand, desperately giving Hoare meaningful looks, feeling like he was about to die.
The students who had been informed looked at Hoare, using their eyes to replace words, desperately trying to convey their suffering and urgency to him.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Hoare wore an innocent smile, extending his right hand and making a rubbing gesture on the table.
He didn't need to speak; everyone else knew what he meant.
"Didn't we agree on payment after the job's done?" Malfoy whispered angrily at Hoare, accidentally lowering his hand, letting the smell hit him, "Ugh, ugh, ugh."
"Down payment," Hoare shrugged.
"Take it!" Malfoy quickly pulled out a small wallet he had prepared from his pocket and handed it to Hoare.
Hoare weighed it, very satisfied with the familiar weight.
He raised his hand.
"Student, please, please speak," Quirrell put down the textbook.
"Professor, I heard you drove away a vampire from Romania and are afraid of being found and retaliated against—" Hoare stood up, picking up his bag, "I happen to know a way to help you."
Without waiting for Quirrell's response, Hoare carried his small bag to the front of the podium.
Very kindly, he took out items from his storage bag, placing them in front of Quirrell one by one.
A peachwood sword, a small bowl of sticky rice, a red string, a bottle of black dog's blood, and two chopsticks.
These were good things commissioned from the twins.
"Teacher, don't be afraid, this is a once-and-for-all solution." Hoare pondered which one to try first.
The peachwood sword was too violent; he looked at Quirrell's physique, though thin, still taller than himself, and he might not be able to hit Quirrell in a fight.
The black dog's blood was too potent, even Peeves, an old ghost, couldn't handle it, luckily Hoare had replenished him with some magic in time.
Hoare glanced at the back of Quirrell's head.
He wasn't sure if the Dark Lord counted as an evil spirit; if so, he might need to use everything to drive him out of Quirrell's body.
Quirrell looked at the strange items in front of him, the hair on his hands standing on end involuntarily.
"William, William, what are you doing?" he swallowed, quietly moving back a bit.
Hoare silently compared the damage.
A decaying body, an abnormal soul, needing to drink blood to sustain, though it was cursed unicorn blood, wasn't this a type of zombie?
Let's use this!
"Professor, we can't ignore the problem, we must face it bravely." Hoare pulled Quirrell over, moving so fast that Quirrell didn't even see it clearly, and by the time he reacted, he was already in front of the student named Henry William.
"What are you doing...!"
As Quirrell opened his mouth to speak, Hoare raised a bowl of sticky rice and poured it in.
"Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough..."
After stuffing the sticky rice into Quirrell's mouth, Quirrell's face turned red, clutching his throat and coughing desperately, as if he were about to die.
The other students below were dumbfounded; when Hoare first took out those tools, they were bewildered. Now, they were all stunned.
Wasn't he supposed to completely remove Professor Quirrell's odor!?
Is this how it's done...?
Malfoy's eyes were very blank; he turned stiffly to one side, looking at Blaise, who was so shocked he forgot to cover his mouth and nose, "Is this real? Is Henry feeding Professor Quirrell... rice?"
"He charged me 1320 Galleons just to feed Professor Quirrell rice!?"
Blaise was dumbfounded, "It doesn't seem like it, don't worry, from my angle, it looks like Henry stuffed it in."
Over at Gryffindor, Harry swallowed, "What's Henry doing..."
Granger said irritably, "He's bullying Professor Quirrell, no, I'm going to tell Professor McGonagall! Weasley, what are you doing!"
Just as Granger was about to get up, she found her robe was being stepped on by Ron.
Ron looked at Hoare in front, then at Granger beside him, scratching his head, "I don't know why, but my intuition tells me I can't let you run out."
"But we can't bully the professor!" Granger argued.
"Don't move, I'm casting a spell to heal Professor Quirrell," Hoare looked at Granger seriously, "This is Eastern witchcraft, don't you want the professor to walk among us without worry!"
Hearing this, Granger didn't dare to say anything more; after all, the professor's smell was really not good, and if it could be removed, it would be a great thing for Granger, who loved learning.
On stage, after speaking to Granger, Hoare ignored the murmuring below and turned back to look at Quirrell.
Aside from being choked, Quirrell didn't seem to have any other reaction.
It seemed the sticky rice wasn't very effective.
Hoare thought about trying the black dog's blood, though its effect was particularly strong!
In his hesitation, Hoare saw Quirrell pick up a bottle from the table and pour it into his mouth.
He didn't have time to stop him.