Chapter 223 Voldemort’s Recruitment
About half an hour later, Quirrell finally limped to the room where he passed the troll and reached the level set by Snape.
It's just that he looks very strange now, as if he has aged dozens of years all of a sudden, his face is extremely pale and full of wrinkles.
Moreover, Quirrell seemed to be seriously injured. There was a strong smell of blood all over his body, and every step he took made him grimace in pain.
After Quirrell entered the room, the magic flame that had been extinguished rose again.
He tremblingly came to the table where the potion was placed, picked up the parchment and read it carefully.
“…there is no death hidden among giants and dwarfs.
The second one on the left and the second one on the right, although they look different, they taste the same. "
A smile slowly appeared on Quirrell's face.
Snape, an idiot, actually thought that he couldn't reason logically... It was ridiculous, but he was an outstanding student who graduated from Ravenclaw with eight "O"s.
Compared with finding keys, playing chess and fighting trolls, this is what he is best at.
Quirrell conjured a feather, dipped it in a bloody spot on his body, and began to make calculations.
"I know!" Soon, Quirrell shouted excitedly: "It is this smallest bottle that allows me to pass through the black flames and get the magic stone."
He picked up the inconspicuous little bottle without hesitation, raised his head and took a sip.
"vomit……"
Quirrell originally thought there would be nothing more, but it would be harder to accept than facing dozens of biting cabbage.
But now he found out he was wrong.
As soon as his lips touched the potion, a disgusting taste instantly poured into his mouth. It felt like there were three hundred trolls dancing in his mouth.
The compost in the greenhouse smells sweeter than this stuff.
The torture in his heart made Quirrell's expression even more ugly. He only took a sip and threw the potion back on the table.
"Damn it Snape!"
Quirrell covered his stomach 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!"
Quirrell roared in his mind and entered the last room.
But he was horrified to find that there was already someone there...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 whether I would meet the professor here, but here you are..."
"Wait a minute. Professor Quirrell, why are you so seriously injured? Don't worry, I'll take you to the school hospital right now.
With that said, he walked towards Quirrell.
"Stand there and don't move!" Quirrell took out his wand and shouted sternly: "Now, give me the magic stone!"
Quirrell felt that his mind was very messy, very messy.
He had imagined countless situations before...such as how to fight when meeting Snape, or how to beg for mercy when meeting Dumbledore.
But Quirrell didn't expect that Harry Potter would actually come here before him, and judging from his appearance, it seemed that he had been waiting here for a long time.
How on earth did the Boy-Who-Lived get past those biting kale!
"Philosopher's Stone? What nonsense are you talking about!"
"Harry" wondered: "Isn't the final reward here this mirror?
Professor, you must come and take a look. This mirror is really amazing. I saw myself shaking hands with Dumbledore and becoming the Minister of Magic.
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I guess it must be able to predict the future! "
Quirrell glanced at the Mirror of Erised doubtfully.
He wanted to go over and take a look, but after taking less than five steps, he heard a sharp 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 noticed yet? He is not Harry Potter!"
"Not Harry Potter?" Quirrell looked at the other person carefully again.
The messy hair, the scar on his forehead, and those round glasses... this is definitely Potter.
"Let me come and talk to him... face to face..."
"Master, you have just wasted a lot of energy on biting cabbage, and now you still need to rest!"
"Thanks to your help... I still have this little strength..."
"It's my pleasure, Master!"
Quirrell bent over, raised his hand to untie the scarf that was randomly wrapped around his head, and then slowly turned around, 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 courage."
"Harry" said calmly: "It's just that I didn't expect that you would appear in this way...Mr. Voldemort."
"You know that I..." Voldemort seemed a little surprised.
"That's obvious, isn't it?"
"By the way, how did you find out that I'm not Harry Potter? I feel like my costume is quite authentic."
"Clothes..." Voldemort said in a hoarse voice: "Harry Potter will not wear the Slytherin badge!"
"It's a pity...but there's nothing I can do about it. I won't wear that stupid lion badge no matter what."
Kyle took off his glasses and threw them aside. After the glasses bounced on the ground a few times, they turned back into a Bibi All-flavored bean.
Dean Sacia gave him many potions, including a large bottle of Polyjuice Potion.
It is not difficult to get Harry's hair, or it is very simple. If Kyle wanted to, he could deceive Harry into losing his pants.
It's just not necessary.
"Who are you..." Voldemort said with great interest: "Malfoy... Nott... or Selwyn..."
"Stop guessing, Mr. Voldemort." Kyle spread his hands and said, "Since I used Polyjuice Potion, I definitely don't want others to know who it is."
"Courageous and cunning...and very clear-headed. It seems that Slytherin has produced another outstanding little wizard."
Voldemort became even more interested. He looked at Kyle and said in a very bewitching voice: "You are really much better than that good-for-nothing Quirrell... Come follow me and help me get the Philosopher's Stone... I will grant you power and wealth beyond your imagination!”
"Master..." Quirrell was a little aggrieved and trembled, "I am your most loyal servant."
It was obviously him who came first, whether it was in the Albanian forest or in those crisis-ridden levels just now...
He was the one who had been helping the Dark Lord, not the person in front of him who didn't even know his name.
…
