Hogwarts: I'm a model wizard

Chapter 223 Voldemort's Solicitation
After about half an hour, Quirrell finally limped to the troll's room and arrived at the checkpoint set by Snape.

It's just that his current appearance is very strange, as if he has aged dozens of years, his face is extremely pale and full of wrinkles.

Moreover, Quirrell seemed to be seriously injured, and there was a strong smell of blood all over his body, and every step he took hurt him so much that he grinned.

After Quirrell entered the room, the magic flame that had been extinguished rose again.

Trembling, he came to the table where the potion was placed, picked up the parchment and read it carefully.

"...There is no death hidden in giants and dwarves.

The second on the left and the second on the right, although they look different, taste the same. "

A smile slowly appeared on Quirrell's face.

The idiot Snape thought he couldn't reason logically... Funny, he was a top student from Ravenclaw with eight 'O's.

Compared with finding keys, playing chess and fighting monsters, this is what he is best at.

Quirrell conjured up a feather, dipped it in a bloody place on his body, and began to calculate.

"I know!" Soon, Quirrell exclaimed excitedly: "This is the smallest bottle that allows me to pass through the black flames and get the Philosopher's Stone."

He picked up the small bottle without hesitation, raised his head and took a sip.

"vomit……"

Quirrell originally thought that there would be nothing more, and it was more difficult to accept than facing dozens of biting kale.

But now he finds himself wrong.

He had just touched the potion on his lips, and a disgusting taste rushed into his mouth instantly, as if three hundred trolls were dancing in his mouth.

Greenhouse compost tastes sweeter than this stuff.

The torment in his heart made Quirrell's face even uglier. He only took a sip and threw the potion back on the table.

"Damn Snape!"

Quirrell covered his belly with one hand and his mouth with the other, trembling through the black flames.

"Just wait... When I get the Philosopher's Stone and resurrect the Dark Lord, both Sprout and Snape will die!"

Roaring in his heart, Quirrell entered the last room.

But he was horrified to find that there was already someone inside...not Snape, nor Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter!"

Quirrell gasped in astonishment.

"It's me, Professor."

"Harry" in the room turned around and said in a slightly panicked tone: "I was worried just now, would I meet the professor here, but you came here..."

"Wait. Professor Quirrell, why are you injured so badly? Don't worry, I'll send you to the school hospital right away."

With that said, he walked towards Quirrell.

"Stand still!" Quirrell took out his wand and shouted sharply: "Now, give me the Philosopher's Stone!"

Quirrell felt his mind was messed up, very messed up.

He had envisioned countless situations... such as how to fight when he met Snape, or how to beg for mercy when he met Dumbledore.

But Quirrell did not expect that Harry Potter would come here before him, and judging by his appearance, he seemed to be waiting here for a long time.

How on earth did the Boy Who Lived get past those biting kale!
"The Philosopher's Stone? What nonsense are you talking about!"

"Harry" wondered: "Isn't the last reward here this mirror?
Professor, you must come and see, this mirror is really amazing, I saw myself shaking Dumbledore's hand and becoming the Minister of Magic.

I guess it must be able to predict the future! "

Quirrell glanced at the Mirror of Erised suspiciously.

He wanted to go over to have a look, but just after walking less than five steps, he heard a shrill voice speaking.

"He's lying...he's lying..."

"Potter, don't move!" Quirrell immediately raised his wand and shouted: "My patience is limited, hurry up and give me the Philosopher's Stone!"

The shrill voice spoke again.

"Idiot, haven't you found out yet? He's not Harry Potter!"

"Not Harry Potter?" Quirrell looked at the other party carefully again.

Messy hair, a scar on his forehead, and those round glasses... this is Potter, yes.

"Let me talk to him... face to face..."

"Master, but you have wasted a lot of energy on biting kale just now, and now you need to rest!"

"Thanks to your help... I still have this bit of strength..."

"It is my honor, master!"

Quirrell bent down, raised his hand and untied the scarf that was wrapped around his head indiscriminately, then turned around slowly, revealing the hideous and terrifying face on the back of his head.

The face was as white as chalk, with glowing red eyes and two slender nostrils underneath, which looked like a snake.

"You don't seem surprised at all..." he whispered.

"It's impossible for Quirrell to steal the Philosopher's Stone alone, he doesn't have the guts."

"Harry" said calmly: "It's just that I didn't expect you to appear in this way...Mr. Voldemort."

"You know me..." Voldemort seemed a little surprised.

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"By the way, by the way, how did you find out that I'm not Harry Potter? I feel that my outfit is quite original."

"Clothes..." Voldemort said hoarsely, "Harry Potter wouldn't wear a Slytherin badge!"

"It's a pity...but it can't be helped. I will never wear that stupid lion badge."

Kyle took off his glasses and threw them aside. After bouncing on the ground a few times, the glasses turned back into a Bibi Flavor Bean.

There are many potions that Dean Sasia gave him, including a large bottle of compound soup.

And it's not difficult to get Harry's hair, or it's very simple, if Kyle wants to, he can fool Harry with all his underwear left.

It's just not necessary.

"Who are you..." Voldemort said with great interest, "Malfoy... Nott... or Selwyn..."

"Don't guess, Mr. Voldemort." Kyle spread his hands and said, "Since I have used Compound Potion, I definitely don't want others to know who it is."

"Courageous, but also very cunning... and very clear-headed, it seems that Slytherin has produced another excellent little wizard."

Voldemort became more interested. He looked at Kyle and said in an extremely bewitching voice: "You are really much stronger than that trash Quirrell... Come follow me and help me get the Philosopher's Stone... I will bestow upon you unimaginable power and wealth!"

"Master..." Quirrell was a little aggrieved, and tremblingly said: "I am your most loyal servant."

Obviously he came first, whether it was in the forest of Albania or in those dangerous checkpoints just now...

He was the one who had been helping the Dark Lord all along, not the person in front of him who didn't even know his name.

……

(End of this chapter)