Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

"But he's trying to stop you from killing the Potter boy." Quirrell quietly pinched a bit of Puffy's hair from his clothes and put it in his pocket, his movements slow but twitching at the same time.

Voldemort paid no attention to what he was doing, assuming that Quirrell was fiddling with the letters he had written to Muggles.

"Aren't you trying to stop me from killing that child?" Voldemort turned to Quirrell.

"No... Master, killing him will only make Dumbledore angry. This is an unwise choice." The professor said in panic, "And I didn't mean to stop you at the time. It was my subconscious..."

Voldemort said nothing, perhaps believing this statement.

He could sense Quirrell's desire to get the Philosopher's Stone, and that couldn't fool the greatest immortal dark wizard.

“What do you think of that Holmes?” said Voldemort. “So his Unforgivable Curses did cause you pain?”

"Of course, I suddenly felt a piercing pain at that time, there is no doubt about it, Master... If you hadn't forced her at that time, perhaps you could have tortured Granger to death." Quirrell kicked the ball back.

At the same time, I was also amazed at Nietzsche's talent.

An eleven-year-old child who can easily come up with the idea of ​​'wanting someone to die' is not a good person.

"If he succeeds, Dumbledore will start to doubt...that old man is very afraid of geniuses. When that time comes, I really want to see with my own eyes the second dark wizard I have trained, hehehe."

"But what if he doesn't succeed?" Quirrell interrupted eagerly.

"Then just let a Mudblood die. This way he will hate me even more. It would be too easy for Dumbledore to die under my Killing Curse. I want him to experience the feeling of being deserted by everyone."

Quirrell nodded and put the book on how to take care of potted flowers on the table before going out.

It is four o'clock in the afternoon. Normally, students at this time should be preparing for the night outing or studying in the hall, but today everyone is partying without exception. Even Hermione has rarely put down her notebook.

As he reached the moving staircase, he heard Hermione showing off to Nietzsche.

"Professor Flitwick just told me secretly that my score is over 100 points. I will definitely be the first in the grade this time!" Her voice was full of joy.

So where are they going?

Quirrell rolled his eyes, took out some of the small tuft of white fluff in his pocket, threw it out, and it fell on Nietzsche's hair.

Nietzsche felt nothing, and looked as if a dandelion had fallen on him. He and Hermione walked along the edge of the Black Lake, watching the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan teasing the giant squid in the shallow water.

At this time, Hagrid came over from 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 on having fried fish tonight." Hagrid said vaguely, a little embarrassed, "You know I always have a big appetite, so..."

Jordan and the Weasley twins didn't notice anything was wrong.

When Hagrid saw Nietzsche on the other side, he immediately called him over to help. Catching fish with bare hands is not an easy task.

"Can you help me? Just... just use your levitation charm to put the fish in the bucket." Hagrid suddenly reached out and pinched the hair on his head. "Have you visited Smaug just now?"

But Hermione just shook her head and didn't care too much.

"Could it be that some of the puffballs escaped from the Forbidden Forest?" Hagrid threw them into the water and laughed. "Or maybe the wind blew them here. Who knows."

Cattails mainly feed on carrion, and because of the creatures that died in the forbidden forest before, they reproduced in large numbers.

But Nietzsche hesitated - he had just come out of the castle, how could he be covered with cattail fluff? Then he threw the bucket away and ran to the shore holding his wet wizard robe.

When I was leaving, I fell in the shallow water because of the squid's tentacles.

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

Hagrid is left behind once again...

"Go tell Snape to pay attention to the places with fluff." Nietzsche ignored her confusion and simply explained the matter in one breath. "This is the tip Quirrell left for me."

Hermione was stunned for a long moment before she came to her senses and connected the small tuft of fur with the Forbidden Forest and Quirrell.

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

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

Hermione opened her mouth and wanted to speak, but Nietzsche had already run off to the Headmaster's office.

Wait, she obviously doesn't want to get involved in this matter... No, no, no, she will only tell Snape about this and let the professors handle it.

Hermione rubbed her chest, as if the effects of the Cruciatus Curse had reappeared.

Volume 1: Chapter 73 A Good Show

When Quirrell entered the room at the end of the corridor on the fourth floor with a sign saying "No Trespassing", he hung the fluff on the handle.

Inside was a three-headed dog, with saliva dripping from its bared fangs onto the ground. Because of the presence of the three-headed dog, the entire room seemed very crowded.

Quirrell took two steps forward and came under its head. He transformed a harp into a harp and plucked the strings. The light and slow song soon made the three-headed dog's four legs go limp, and it knelt on the ground and fell into a deep sleep.

But he did not leave immediately. Instead, he used his wand to cast spells on the three heads one by one.

"Confundo (confuse the audience)... You are tired... so tired that you don't want to wake up again."

After making sure that the spell was effective, he confidently opened the secret door on the floor behind the three-headed dog. Looking at the darkness inside, Quirrell hesitated for a moment, then made up his mind to jump down.

As a professor at Hogwarts, Quirrell certainly participated in this process, otherwise, how would he know that this place must have what Voldemort wanted. The first level is the devil vine.

"Incendio"

Quirrell noticed the vines approaching him, and swung his hands to send out several orange-red fireballs.

It seemed that he was not just intending to expel them, but to control the flames to burn all the devil vines in the entire tunnel. As he fell from the passage to the room below, a pile of ashes and dry leaves followed.

The next topic seemed to be about flying technology, because Quirrell saw several flying broomsticks arranged in the stone corridor.

"Heh, it seems Dumbledore doesn't trust anyone." Voldemort controlled Quirrell to take off his turban and sneered at the flashing lights on the ceiling. "Even the professors who participated in the process don't have a temporary passage."

Those "iron birds" with wings are keys of different shapes.

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

"Dumbledore was just trying to guard against students at first..." Quirrell explained calmly, "I won't bother you with this little trick, Master."

Quirrell raised his head and looked at the flying keys close to the ceiling. He concentrated his mind, clenched his left hand, and the iron birds began to slow down, as if they were stuck in a quagmire, and then they just twitched slightly a few times.

Comparing the key to the wooden door, he quickly got the key he needed.

In the second room, there was a huge chessboard. Each chess piece was two or three meters high and was divided into black and white.

"The bishop moves four spaces to the right... the castle captures the bishop."

Quirrell replaced the king's chess piece, sat on a tall chair, and commanded every soldier. Even when he saw his soldiers being smashed into pieces, he could feel the excitement.

Finally, he commanded the last knight to cut the white king in half with one stroke. After removing the crown from the ground, the remaining white chess pieces retreated to both sides of the chessboard to make way for Quirrell.

Even though this is just a game, but... he just likes the situation of being in control of everything.

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

He looked at the troll that was roaring and rushing towards him, and just recited a series of twisted runes. A curse soon fell on the troll, causing a bloody lump to grow on its head.

"Idiots, do you think I'm really afraid of you?" Quirrell pinched his nose and said contemptuously.

The giant monster leader that was rushing towards him suddenly flew backwards as if hit by a truck and lay motionless on the ground. At the same time, a kind of pressure crushed its bones.

Quirrell picked up his robe, which was dragging on the ground, and carefully stepped over the troll's body.

Then he passed through a purple flame and came to the final secret room... He had been here once before, probably under the dungeon of the castle.

The entire room is arched, with rows of stairs against the walls - perhaps it was once a place for secret duels.

In the middle of the oval venue, there is a tall mirror, and nothing else. This mirror is the 'Mirror of Erised' that Nietzsche had seen in the principal's office.

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

No secret door was found, no trace of magic...

"I can feel its breath of life... The Philosopher's Stone is right here." Voldemort said affirmatively, "You, go and look at the mirror. Don't waste your time here."

As Quirrell walked around, he kept his eye on the entrance, as if he was anxiously waiting for someone.

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

“The Mirror of Erised can see through desires... I know Dumbledore too well.” Voldemort asked him to turn around and stare at the mirror. “He must have tampered with this principle. No, I can’t get it. You come!”

Voldemort looked at his immortal body and soul and became very annoyed, and soon broke free from his desire.

"I don't understand..." Quirrell muttered.

"The Philosopher's Stone is placed inside this. The greater the desire, the more impossible it is to manifest." Voldemort gave the order.

That's it? He couldn't even see such simple hands and feet, and yet Hagrid and Flitwick called him 'very smart'?

Hogwarts is getting worse with each passing year.

Strangely enough, Voldemort was unable to feel despair and fear from Quirrell's body and mind today alone. And that was right... After all, he could get the Philosopher's Stone, and he wouldn't have to continue to be parasitized and become a formal Death Eater.

Quirrell stared at the Mirror of Erised in a daze, his fingers twitching involuntarily on the side of his thigh.

"What do you see?" Voldemort demanded.

"I saw it... I am respected..." Quirrell straightened his back and continued, "And I am powerful."

He didn't tell the whole story.

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

He felt 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 a little impatient.

"Then...then I break it?"

"idiot!"

Voldemort began to curse again.

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

"It's you?" "You!"

Harry and Quirrell exclaimed at the same time.

But Quirrell quickly reacted and rubbed his face to soften his smile a little.

"Yes, it's me." He said calmly, "I was just wondering if I would encounter a 'key' here, Potter... why do you look so surprised?"

Harry did not come alone, because he saw the sword in the boy's hand.

Quirrell's mind worked quickly and he soon understood what was going on... Nietzsche must have discovered it. Although he couldn't figure out why the other party sent Harry in, there must be a reason.

Let him think about it - Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Voldemort's number one enemy.

"I thought it was...Snape." Harry took a few steps back in surprise.

"Snape?" Quirrell's voice was no longer the stuttering tone he used to use in class. "Does he care about these things?"

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

The silent and wandless spell made Harry feel the difference in power.

But Quirrell did not act immediately. Instead, he focused on the Mirror of Erised, and while looking for its weaknesses, he was thinking about a plan that might change the situation in the middle of the process. In his original idea, it should be Nietzsche Holmes.

The sword represented Nietzsche, which meant that the other party really understood Pu Rongrong's hint.

But the question is, why Harry Potter?

"But Snape wanted to kill me!" The boy couldn't believe it for a moment.

"No, no, no, I was the one who wanted to kill you." Quirrell said nonchalantly, "You know, if there hadn't been a fight in the audience, you might have fallen to your death."

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

"Yes, I did that because I needed to clear myself of suspicion. You see, everyone thinks that Snape, who arrived late, is the culprit."

Speaking of this, Qi Luo's heart was full of complaints.

A guy that Voldemort called a 'genius in the dark arts' was no match for him, the vessel, in wandless spellcasting, and it was just a matter of seconds before a student almost died in his hands.

"Use him...Quirrel." Voldemort's hoarse voice came from Quirrell.

"Well, let me see if your 'key' is correct." As soon as Quirrell finished speaking, Harry, who was tied with chains, 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 and tried to appear calm.

Others cannot see other people's images. Harry learned this during the Christmas holidays.

"What did you see?" Quirrell said impatiently.