Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Just then, Hagrid came from the direction of the Forbidden Forest carrying a bucket.

"What are you doing?" Jordan asked curiously when he saw him rolling up his trouser legs.

"I... um... I'm planning to have fried fish for dinner," Hagrid said vaguely, somewhat embarrassed. "You know I always have a big appetite, so..."

Jordan and Weasley were unaware that anything was amiss.

When Hagrid saw Nietzsche on the other side, he immediately called him over to help, because catching fish with bare hands is no easy task.

"Can you help me out? Just... just use your levitation charm to put the fish in the bucket." Hagrid suddenly reached out and pinched a few strands of downy hair on his head. "You've already visited Smaug?"

Hermione just shook her head, not paying much attention.

"Could some fluffy creature have escaped from the Forbidden Forest?" Hagrid casually tossed it into the water and laughed. "Or maybe it was blown in by the wind. Who knows?"

The purongrong primarily feeds on carrion, and their population has increased dramatically due to the deaths of organisms that died before the forest was closed.

Nietzsche hesitated—he had just come from the castle, how could he have cattail fluff on him? He then tossed the bucket aside, grabbed his wet wizard's robe, and ran toward the shore.

When we left, the squid even slipped and fell in the shallow water because of its tentacles.

"Huh?" Hermione was pulled towards the castle by him.

Hagrid was left behind once again...

“Go tell Snape to keep an eye out for any furry spots.” Nietzsche ignored her confusion and simply explained the situation in one breath, “This is a clue Quirrell left for me.”

Hermione was stunned for a while before she came to her senses and connected that small tuft of downy hair with the Forbidden Forest and Quirrell.

"But if that's the case, then... was it Professor Quirrell who attacked me that day?" She had stood in front of someone who used the Cruciatus Curse on students countless times, and even asked about their grades. She couldn't help but feel a little scared.

"No, it was Voldemort who attacked you... In any case, it has nothing to do with Quirrell, Snape will understand."

Hermione opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but Nietzsche had already run towards the headmaster's office.

Wait a minute, she clearly doesn't want to get involved in this... No, no, no, she'll just pass it on to Snape and let the professors handle it.

Hermione rubbed her chest, as if the Cruciatus Curse was working again.

Chapter Seventy-Three: A Good Show

As Quirrell entered the room at the end of the fourth-floor corridor, which had a sign that read "No Entry," he casually hung the fluffy item on the handle.

Inside was a three-headed dog, drool dripping from its bared fangs onto the floor. The presence of this three-headed dog made the whole room feel crowded.

Quirrell took two steps forward and was below its head. It transformed into a harp, plucked the strings, and played a light and slow melody that quickly made the three-headed dog's four legs go weak, and it knelt on the ground and fell into a deep sleep.

But he didn't leave immediately; instead, he used his wand to cast spells on the three heads one by one.

"Confundo...you're so tired...so tired you never want to wake up again."

Only after confirming that the spell had taken effect did Quirrell feel relieved enough to lift the hidden door in the floor behind Cerberus. Looking into the darkness inside, Quirrell hesitated for a moment before finally deciding to jump down.

As a professor at Hogwarts, Quirrell naturally participated in this process; otherwise, how would he have known that this place definitely held what Voldemort wanted? And the first hurdle was the Devil's Vine.

"Incendio (Burning Flames)"

Quirrell noticed the vines approaching him and flicked his wrist, sending out several orange-red fireballs.

He didn't seem to intend to just banish them, but rather to control the flames to burn all the devil vines in the tunnel to ashes and dried leaves as he fell from the passage into the room below.

Next, it seems to be about flight technology, because Quirrell saw several flying brooms placed in the stone corridor.

"Hmph, it seems Dumbledore doesn't trust anyone." Voldemort manipulated Quirrell to remove his turban, looking at the flashing lights on the ceiling and sneering, "Even the professors who participated in the process didn't have a temporary passage."

Those winged 'iron birds' are keys of different shapes.

“He still likes to play these little tricks,” he said.

“Dumbledore was only trying to keep an eye on the students at first…” Quirrell explained humbly, “You don’t need to trouble your master with such a simple trick.”

Quirrell looked up at the flying key that was close to the ceiling, focused his mind, and clenched his left hand. The speed of the iron birds began to slow down, as if they were stuck in a quagmire, and then they only twitched slightly a few times.

By referring to the keyhole on the wooden door, I quickly found the key I needed.

In the second room, there was a huge chessboard, with each piece two or three meters tall, divided into black and white.

"The bishop moves four squares to the right...the castle devours the bishop."

Quirrell replaced the king's pawn, sitting on a tall chair, commanding every soldier. Even watching his soldiers being smashed to pieces, he could feel excitement.

Finally, the last knight commanded the white king to slice him in half. After removing the crown from the ground, the remaining white pieces retreated to the sides of the board, making way for Quirrell.

Although it's just a game, he just likes this situation where he's in control of everything.

The next room was one he had set up himself—a giant monster, even larger than the one for Halloween.

He watched the roaring giant charge towards him, and simply recited a string of tongue-twisting runes. A curse was quickly cast upon the giant, causing a bloody lump to grow on its head.

"Fool, do you think I'm really afraid of you?" Quirrell said disdainfully, pinching his nose.

The giant leader that charged at him was suddenly thrown backward as if it had been hit by a truck, lying motionless on the ground, while a pressure crushed its bones.

Quirrell lifted his robe, which was trailing on the ground, and carefully stepped over the giant's corpse.

He then passed through another purple flame before arriving at the final secret room... He had been here once before, and he guessed it was located beneath the castle's dungeon.

The room is arched, with rows of steps along the walls—perhaps once a place for secret duels.

In the center of the oval-shaped field stood a tall mirror, and nothing else. This mirror was the 'Mirror of Erised' that Nietzsche had seen in the principal's office.

"Could it have been taken by Dumbledore?" Quirrell lit his wand and circled the wall.

No hidden doors were found, and there were no signs of magic...

“I can feel its life force… The Philosopher’s Stone, it’s right here,” Voldemort said confidently. “You, go look at that mirror, don’t waste your time here.”

As Quirrell circled around, he kept an eye on the entrance, seemingly anxiously waiting for someone.

However, due to Voldemort's orders, he could only move towards the Mirror of Erised little by little, but it was just a mirror, nothing special.

“The Mirror of Erised can see through desires… I know Dumbledore far better than anyone.” Voldemort made him turn around, staring at the mirror, and said, “He must have tampered with it using that principle. No, I can’t get it. You take it!”

Voldemort looked at his immortal body and soul and was furious. He quickly broke free from his desires.

“I don’t understand…” Quirrell muttered.

"The Philosopher's Stone is placed inside; the greater the desire, the less likely it is to manifest," Voldemort commanded.

That's it? They can't even see such simple hand and foot movements, and Hagrid and Flitwick call them 'very smart'?

Hogwarts is getting worse with each new class.

Strangely enough, Voldemort couldn't sense any despair or fear from Quirrell today. Well... after all, he could get the Philosopher's Stone, and he wouldn't have to continue being parasitized and become a full-fledged Death Eater.

Quirrell stared blankly at the Mirror of Erised, his fingers involuntarily twitching on his thigh.

"What did you see?" Voldemort demanded.

“I saw it… I was respected…” Quirrell straightened his back and continued, “And I am powerful.”

He didn't say the whole thing.

In fact, he saw Quirinus Quirrell in the mirror defeat Voldemort, be awarded the Order of Merlin First Class by Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic, and shake hands with another person in a classroom.

He touched his pockets, but they were empty.

"You want to use the Philosopher's Stone to achieve your goal, and this desire can be detected by the Mirror of Erised..." Voldemort was getting impatient.

"Then...then should I break it?"

"idiot!"

Voldemort started cursing again.

Suddenly, a series of footsteps interrupted Quirrell's thoughts. He turned his head and his surprise froze as he saw Harry Potter's astonished face.

"It's you?" "You!"

Harry and Quirrell both exclaimed in surprise.

But Quirrell quickly realized what was happening, rubbed his face, and softened his smile a little.

“Yes, it’s me,” he said calmly. “I was just wondering if I’d run into a ‘key’ here, Potter… why are you so surprised?”

Harry didn't come alone, because he saw the sword the boy was holding.

Quirrell's mind worked quickly, and he soon understood what was going on... Nietzsche must have discovered it, although he couldn't understand why the other party would send Harry in, but there must be a reason.

Let him think about it—Harry Potter, the boy who survived, Voldemort's greatest enemy.

“I thought it was… Snape.” Harry took a few steps back in surprise.

“Snape?” Quirrell’s voice was completely different from his usual stammering tone in class. “Does someone like him care about these things?”

The professor simply snapped his fingers, and several chains appeared out of thin air, binding Harry.

The Silent Wand Charm made Harry realize the difference in power.

Kechiro didn't act immediately. Instead, he focused on the Mirror of Erised, using the opportunity to find its weaknesses to think about a plan for a possible unexpected turn of events—in his original idea, it should be Nietzsche Holmes.

The sword represented Nietzsche, meaning that the other party did indeed understand Pu Rongrong's hint.

But the question is, why Harry Potter?

"But Snape wanted to kill me!" The boy was momentarily incredulous.

“No, no, no, I was the one who wanted to kill you back then,” Quirrell said nonchalantly. “You know, if the fight hadn’t broken out in the stands, you might have fallen to your death.”

"But you were the first to stop it..."

“That’s right, because I needed to clear my name, that’s why I did it. You see, everyone thinks that Snape, who arrived late, is the culprit.”

Quirrell was full of resentment when he talked about it.

A guy whom Voldemort called a 'dark magic genius' was no match for him, the vessel, in wandless spellcasting. In just a hair's breadth, a student almost died at his hands.

“Use him… Quirrell.” Voldemort’s hoarse voice came from Quirrell.

“Alright, let me see if your ‘key’ is correct.” Quirrell had barely finished speaking when Harry, who was chained up, was dragged in front of him.

Because of Harry's ignorance and indifference to the Philosopher's Stone, he saw himself in the mirror putting a bright red stone into his pocket... He swallowed hard, trying to appear calm.