Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

"I saw myself shaking hands with Dumbledore..."

"What a lie!" cursed Voldemort. "The Philosopher's Stone is in his possession. Bring it to me!"

Voldemort controlled Quirrell to turn around, and his true face appeared before Harry Potter.

The wrinkled snake face on the back of the boy's head almost made him vomit. Looking at Voldemort who was connected to his scalp, the hair on his back crawled up.

But at this moment, the chains on Harry suddenly fell off. In fact, Quirrell himself canceled the Summoning Spell and the Transfiguration Spell. He planned to let Harry leave with the Philosopher's Stone and hand it over to Nietzsche.

Only when Nietzsche got what he wanted could he die peacefully.

"He's going to run away! You useless piece of shit!!" Voldemort controlled Quirrell's body and quickly retreated to chase him.

Quirrell laughed in his heart: Voldemort couldn't use his body to cast magic, he was just a remnant soul.

"Master... I... I can't keep the spell under control all the time." He pushed the responsibility away and said aggrievedly, "It may be the sequelae of the Cruciatus Curse. I helped you block the Unforgivable Curse of Holmes."

Harry looked at Voldemort who was suddenly approaching, his heart became ruthless, he grabbed the sword and swung it casually, cutting a scar on his face.

"Ah!" Quirrell screamed because of the pain in the back of his head.

This made Voldemort even more angry. He ignored the danger - it was Quirrell who was injured anyway, so he simply grabbed Harry's wrist with the blade, but at this time, a burning sensation spread from his arm.

This time, it was no longer Quirrell who screamed.

Harry was not in a much better condition. The pain on his forehead made him feel as if his head was torn in half. The severe pain prevented him from falling to the ground or moving forward.

"You...you go and deal with him!" Voldemort's voice began to weaken, and he returned control of his body to Quirrell.

Quirrell looked at his wrist. The skin was dry and red, and even had cracks, but not a drop of blood flowed out of the wound.

His fingers were twisted and trembling due to the severe pain, but he still hooked the wand that fell to the ground with his little finger.

Sometimes pain can make people more sober, so Quirrell suddenly understood the significance of Harry Potter's coming in. This 'boy who survived' was the deadly weapon that even Voldemort had to retreat from.

"Kill him! Take back the Philosopher's Stone!!" Voldemort seemed to sense Quirrell's hesitation and screamed.

Quirrell looked at the door blocked by purple flames, and the sneer on his face made Harry feel frightened.

"Of course, Master... Of course I will--catch-- Potter..." He calmed down his thoughts, pounced on Harry, and pressed his knee against his chest.

“No, no, no, no, what are you doing?!” Voldemort immediately changed from fear and anger to persuasion, “Quirinus, I don’t need you to catch him... We only need the Philosopher’s Stone!”

But Quirrell ignored Voldemort's roar and did not use his best silent and wandless spell. Instead, he hooked the wand with his twitching little finger and pointed it at Harry Potter on the ground.

Not only that, he also deliberately casts a deadly spell... How deadly?

"Avada..."

With a splitting headache, Harry instinctively grabbed Quirrell's arm with one hand and raised his sword with the other.

'If the opponent doesn't have any defensive magic, it will help you escape. Remember, you only have one chance.' Nietzsche took every possibility into account.

"Leave him!" Voldemort felt his soul burning. "I command you..."

Quirrell took Harry's hand in his own and held it tighter.

He stared at the tube with a diameter of 9mm, and instead of avoiding it, he showed a sly smile. Sure enough, he was right, so he did not avoid it, nor did he show fear to remind Voldemort.

"Bang!" A crisp sound echoed in the basement.

"I have endured the pain for so long, am I still afraid of this last time?" Quirrell's voice was so calm that even Voldemort was confused.

"You idiot! The Philosopher's Stone is in his pocket!" Voldemort roared viciously, "Look at what you have done. Dumbledore is not worth your life. There is no such thing as good and evil in this world..."

In the end, he really believed that Quirrell had always been the boy with the silly sense of right and wrong.

"No, you are right. There is only power and incompetent people who cannot obtain power. But no one can control my destiny. I always have a choice... and you can't deceive me."

Quirrell looked at the unconscious Potter and laughed out loud.

At the same time, Voldemort realized that Quirrell's vitality was constantly draining away with the blood in his chest, so he simply abandoned this "container" without caring about the other party's life or death.

But he was too unwilling to accept it. The Philosopher's Stone was right in front of him, in Potter's pocket...

"Why." After Voldemort broke free from the container, he turned into a ball of mist.

"No one can dominate me, not even the pure-bloods... Voldemort, and not even you." Quirrell said his name for the first time.

Quirrell loosened his hand. At this time, half of his body was covered with cracks. He tried his best to open his other relatively intact eye. After moving his eyes away from Harry, he kept looking at Voldemort, who had no fixed shape.

What a wonderful thing it is to see the resentment and hatred in the other person's eyes.

"From today on, every time you find a rat hiding in a sewer and think back to when you were just one step away from success, you will think of me... a weakling you despised who killed you."

At this moment, footsteps were heard again in the corridor leading to the basement, and Voldemort left the sewer in humiliation.

As Quirrell said, he would never forget this day.

But the one who entered the basement again was not Headmaster Dumbledore, but Nietzsche and Professor Snape who had been waiting at the door early. They hurried to Quirrell and Harry and each carried one on his back.

Nietzsche first used a freezing spell to stop the blood from flowing out of Quirrell's chest to prevent him from dying from excessive blood loss.

"Why did you give things to Potter?" Dean Snape put Harry on his back.

"This is just a backup. It's not enough to kill immediately..." Nietzsche fumbled in the boy's pocket for a long time before taking out the bright red gem. "I need to take all the circumstances into consideration, especially Harry who is unaware of the situation."

Looking at the professor's miserable condition, if he took one more step, he would surely die.

This is the spell that Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned, and it is a spell specifically designed to protect Harry and fight against Voldemort.

Snape said nothing, but poured a bottle of black potion into Harry's mouth and walked out with it on his back. But in fact, he couldn't even believe how much Nietzsche controlled the matter:

The other party even prevented the possibility that Harry would accidentally kill Quirrell.

"Where is that law-abiding Miss Granger?" Nietzsche shuddered as he walked through the flames.

"In the headmaster's office, I am preparing the alchemy equipment with Dumbledore."

Volume 1: Chapter 74: Quirrell's Rebirth

(PS: The character collection of Quirinus Quirrell is taken from the short story collection Hogwarts: Power, Politics and Mischievous Ghosts)

What Voldemort could never control was Quirrell's mind.

No matter how the Dark Lord tried to influence the professor's subconscious, he would always deliberately attract the attention of others in the opposite way, including Headmaster Dumbledore and Nietzsche...

It’s just that the latter pays more attention to the importance of choice.

"How's Harry?" Dumbledore stood up immediately when he saw them return to the office.

"I'm afraid Madam Pomfrey needs to work overtime. She has just been sent to the school infirmary by Snape. She just looks a little tired..." Nietzsche didn't care and put Quirrell, who was breathing weakly, on the headmaster's desk.

Hermione was terrified - because half of Professor Quirrell's body was shattered, like a piece of porcelain about to break.

But she didn't just stand there and do nothing. She swallowed her throat, recalled the medical knowledge in her parents' study, and quickly unbuttoned the professor's clothes, revealing the withered skin underneath...

That's right, 'withered' is the only word Hermione can describe it.

The skin was wrinkled, squeezed and then drooped limply, lifeless.

"This is a very good method... At least you don't have to worry about the patient losing too much blood." Principal Dalis leaned over the picture frame and blinked at Hermione. "Child, take me down... Yes, put me higher."

Dalys Devonte was once the chief healer of St. Mungo's, and healers had to achieve 'good' grades in all required subjects of NEWT (the Ultimate Wizarding Test).

So she asked Hermione to take down the headmaster's portrait and float it in the air, preferably so that she could see Quirrell's entire body.

"I've experimented with Mercury before and found that the freezing spell can stop the movement of everything...so I temporarily stopped Quirrell's physiological functions and the blood circulation in the wound." Nietzsche took out a small bottle filled with powder from his pocket.

This contains the remaining dainty essence.

Hermione angrily tore off a piece of Nietzsche's sleeve, transformed it into a mask, and put it on her face.

He then lit up his wand and handed it to Nietzsche, then opened a toolbox the other had never seen before, took out a pair of pliers, and shrunk them twice as small with the help of Dumbledore.

"Is this for pulling teeth?" Nietzsche subconsciously covered his mouth.

"It's a Christmas gift from my parents. It's a pity you're not the first one to use it." Hermione didn't even bother to look at him, and said viciously, "I hope you don't brush your teeth after eating the candy... Hold the wand closer!"

Dumbledore glanced at the pliers and silently took a step closer to Nietzsche.

How terrible, but Hermione reminded him, so it seems he will have to ask Professor Snape for some anti-cavity potion next year.

"Um...Mr. Holmes, use the Cutting Spell to cut a hole in Miss Granger's wound..." Principal Dalis directed the two of them, "This person has already overdrawn a lot of life force due to the Dark Magic, and she won't live long."

"So we brought this." Dumbledore was not idle either. He crushed the bright red Philosopher's Stone and put it into a small alchemical gadget that was spewing steam.

The fragments of the Philosopher's Stone rustled inside. It seemed that they were already being ground.

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Delis was a little surprised. "Nic Flamel actually made this thing?"

"It's no big deal, it's just a Philosopher's Stone."

Dumbledore was unsure about Quirrell's condition at first, but after putting together the clues obtained by Nietzsche, he realized how miserable the situation of the once slightly neurotic child was.

And Delis's point is this - Dumbledore was willing to give up the Philosopher's Stone just to save a poor guy who was threatened by Voldemort.

"In fact, Nick and I have reached an agreement and have long planned to destroy this thing." Dumbledore said with a smile, "To turn immortality into a second life. This is why Nick agreed to let me do this."

Dai Lisi looked at the alchemical instrument with a complicated look.

No one can truly refuse eternal life. Even wise men like them believe that eternal life is a punishment. But when faced with a real choice, it is not just a matter of talking.

Hermione removed several metal fragments from the wound. Under the light, she could see the blood that had not yet coagulated but had stopped flowing.

Some blood beads were still hanging on the flesh and blood, not falling off, but were brought out with her forceps and bullet fragments. It seemed that the blood around them had become a semi-fluid state that was prohibited from moving.

After Hermione fell stiffly on the chair, Nietzsche immediately wrapped the professor's chest with gauze soaked in potion. Only after everything was done did he remove the freezing spell.

The nerves begin to function again, awakening from paralysis.

"What kind of spell is this?" Hermione said timidly after covering Quirrell with clothes. "I mean... why does Harry Potter carry such a dangerous spell?"

Come to think of it, she had shaken Porter's hand a few times.

Dumbledore did not choose to hide, but to be more precise, he could not hide, so he decided to tell part of it truthfully.

"This is a powerful ancient blood magic. You should have heard about what happened in 1981. But on that day, Harry's mother used her life to protect her son... Yes, this is 'love'."

"Of course the wizard's emotions will affect the spell. Just think about it, what can surpass a mother's love for her son? Is it just Voldemort's greedy ambition?"

"So my calculation was correct. If Quirrell was really possessed by Voldemort, then he couldn't touch Harry."

But as Nietzsche believed, Quirrell did not use a spell to control or kill Harry. To put it more seriously, he was determined to die from the beginning and had no intention of truly being loyal to Voldemort.

A once invincible Dark Lord was tricked by the wizard he coerced.

"But how do you know that Quirrell will choose to die?" Hermione expressed the question in everyone's mind on behalf of Delis and the other headmasters who were listening.

Nietzsche stretched and stood on the windowsill looking at the starry sky above.

"Professor Quirrell was a true Ravenclaw, a wizard with the freedom of his own thoughts, and suicide is the most radical freedom that can ever be chosen."

"It seems that the so-called Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is a fake." Hermione took off her mask and hung Principal Delis back on the wall. "And next year's Professor Quirrell won't be so stuttering during his lectures."

It seems that Hermione is quite resentful of the professor's teaching style.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger." Dumbledore waved his wand and a hose drew the compressed solution from the flask.

"why?"

"Voldemort is still hiding in a sewer somewhere. He hates Quirinus so much now... If he continues to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, it would be like roasting Quirinus on the fire."

Now that the Philosopher's Stone was destroyed, the potion that could be used to restore Voldemort's body was poured into Quirrell's mouth.

That's the stuff of immortality. The living dead and bones are no more than that... The headmasters on the wall were all staring at the drop of potion, and at the same time they admired Dumbledore's restraint on his desires.

"If my old friend knew that he had saved an excellent professor while enjoying his old age, he would definitely spend his last days happily."

Qi Luo's withered skin gradually began to become plump.

The next day, Nietzsche and Hermione, who were sleeping on the sofa, were awakened by the conversation between Dumbledore and Quirrell.

They both slept on the same couch, feet to feet, one at each end.

"I will miss the years I spent as a professor on campus." Quirrell first exchanged polite words with the principal, "I still have some things to deal with in the outside world, so I won't be back for the time being."

"Are you going to seek revenge on Voldemort again?" Headmaster Dumbledore looked at the ceiling and laughed.

"How could that be... That's a huge gap. I was just visiting some friends."

Looking at the self-deprecating smile on Quirrell's face, Dumbledore simply stood up and patted him on the shoulder.

"I know that for a young person like you who is unwilling to be mediocre, power and ideals are indeed very tempting, but it is better to have a limit. Not every time you have a student like Holmes to help you out."

Quirrell lowered his head in thought, his heart full of shame and embarrassment. He didn't know what to say for a moment, so he simply sat opposite Nietzsche and Hermione.