Chapter 31 Another Price
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Bai Bai Le Kai Shui
Tver still didn't know what Cedric and the other four were thinking. After dinner, he set out on the path to Hogsmeade again.
Tonight was the day he and Quirrell had "promised".
Putting on his hood again, Tver slowly walked into the Hog's Head Bar.
The place was still as dirty and messy, and just after dusk, it was crowded with wizards of all kinds.
There were many people wearing hoods, but there was only one who was as conspicuous as Quirrell.
He sat carelessly in the middle, exuding the aura of "I'm very angry", and didn't make any move, but no one dared to touch him. The bartender looked at him several times and didn't dare to come forward.
Quirrell couldn't actually be called angry. The Dark Lord had already missed, so it was normal for him to make a mistake.
It's just that the Dark Lord was very angry during this period, and he couldn't think of a good way to deal with the three-headed dog after several intrusions.
If it were a head-to-head encounter, he would certainly have the confidence to defeat the three-headed dog, but if he was not careful, the movement would become extremely huge.
It was the fourth floor of the castle. Dumbledore was on top and the professors were on the bottom. It was hard to explain whoever was offended.
So even if he knew that he was likely to be raped by a lion tonight, he had to sit here obediently——
Wait for this bastard in front of you to come over!
"You came quite early. Have you had dinner?"
Tver didn't care about Chilo's fierce gaze that couldn't be concealed by his hood, and sat down opposite him easily.
It was as if this was a conversation between old friends.
Quirrell put his right hand on the table and tapped the table with his fingernails, making a rhythmic "tap-tat-tat" sound, trying to put some pressure on Tver.
"I have been looking forward to this meeting for a long time!" He said every word through gritted teeth.
Tver smiled easily and said to Aberforth, who was walking towards him from behind: "Give me a bottle of butterbeer to the gentleman opposite."
Aberforth looked at him deeply before speaking calmly: "What about you?"
Thinking of last week's butterbeer, Tver shook his head quickly, "I'll forget it."
Quirrell laughed angrily, Tver showed him another trick.
Being able to sense the person behind you in a noisy environment, whether it is keen observation or simply powerful magic perception, is not something ordinary wizards can do.
At least he couldn't do it before he was possessed by the Dark Lord.
But now, with the help of the Dark Lord, Quirrell won't care about such a small trick.
If Tver knew what he was thinking, he would probably just roll his eyes.
You are playing tricks yourself.
After the small episode, as soon as Aberforth left, Quirrell couldn't wait to say: "Make a price. Tell me the weakness of the three-headed dog. No one will do this kind of transaction with you except me."
"I thought you would choose to ask the big man. It seems like he is easier to communicate with than me."
Tver was angry, intending to tell Quirrell that only he could give a straightforward answer to this kind of question.
Quirrell paused for a moment, "That's not good. One buyer and one seller. As long as your price is reasonable, I don't mind paying you now."
Tver immediately raised a finger and shook it several times in front of him.
"No, you can't give me the price I want now."
Can't give it?
Quirrell laughed angrily again, and the sound of loud puffs of air clearly reached Tver's ears.
His other hand was raised, holding a black cloth bag. He threw it away and the bag fell in front of Tver with a muffled sound.
The portion seems to be quite sufficient.
"Ten times, ten times the price last week! There are two hundred galleons here, enough to buy your life!"
At this time, Aberforth came up with a bottle of butterbeer and knocked it hard in front of Quirrell.
"One Galleon."
"Are you crazy?" Quirrell's disbelief could be heard even with the hood on. "A bottle of beer costs one galleons. Why don't you go and rob Gringotts?!"
Aberforth snorted and said disdainfully:
"There was a fool who failed to rob Gringotts in early August, and he is still wanted. How can we provide a comfortable place for black market transactions here?"
Quirrell was speechless, the corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment he didn't know how to retort. Fortunately, he was wearing a hood, so no one could see his embarrassed expression.
However, Tweel was amused by Aberforth's words. He didn't know if he was aware of Quirrell's identity or if he thought of such words accidentally.
Looking at Aberforth's outstretched palm, Tver took out a gold galleon from his wallet and gently put it on it. Only then did Aberforth leave with satisfaction.
"There are only 199 galleons left now. Tell me the answer, otherwise you won't even think about going out today." Quirrell said in a stiff tone.
Tver simply pushed the money bag back.
"I said, you can't pay me back my price now."
"Oh!"
Quirrell slammed the table with his hand, making a loud sound. The wizards in the bar stopped their movements and looked at the place strangely.
There are a lot of black market transactions in the Pig Head Bar, but this is the first time they have seen such a big deal.
Quirrell turned a blind eye to this, but said angrily to Tver: "Then what's your price? Let me see if you really can't afford it!"
But Tver didn't want to be noticed all the time, so he cast an ear-blocking spell here to isolate the sound within the table area from the outside.
After doing all this, he stretched out a finger again, but this time it was no longer shaking, but half an inch from the table, two words were written in the void.
"Magic stone."
(The English word for Philosopher's Stone is Philosopher's, Stone)
Following Tver's movements, the words "Philosopher's Stone" also appeared on the table, but it was just as thin as a layer of fog on the glass, and disappeared from sight in the next second.
But it was enough for Quirrell to see clearly.
His right hand was faintly placed on the wand, and he took a deep look at Tver, and his whole person became calm.
"Who are you anyway? How do you know that thing exists?"
He has already made a decision in his heart. No matter what answer Tver gives, he will find a way to solve this hidden danger and avoid exposing him!
Tver glanced at Quirrell's little movement and smiled easily.
"You all know the existence of that thing, why can't I know, the little fool who failed to rob Gringotts?"
The existence of the Philosopher's Stone is indeed not a secret, and anyone with ulterior motives can detect any movement, so there are many wizards who have guessed that the Philosopher's Stone is in Hogwarts.
It's just that they all thought that Dumbledore had placed the Philosopher's Stone beside them, so they stopped trying to snatch it.
The condemned man in Azkaban would not be so stupid as to rush to snatch something that Dumbledore was protecting personally.
"But the question is, how did you know my goal?" Quirrell's voice became calmer and calmer.
Tver spread his hands and shrugged, "Of course I guessed it through clues like this."
Then he leaned forward, within five inches of Quirrell, and whispered:
"Do you think so, Professor Quirrell?"
Tonight was the day he and Quirrell had "promised".
Putting on his hood again, Tver slowly walked into the Hog's Head Bar.
The place was still as dirty and messy, and just after dusk, it was crowded with wizards of all kinds.
There were many people wearing hoods, but there was only one who was as conspicuous as Quirrell.
He sat carelessly in the middle, exuding the aura of "I'm very angry", and didn't make any move, but no one dared to touch him. The bartender looked at him several times and didn't dare to come forward.
Quirrell couldn't actually be called angry. The Dark Lord had already missed, so it was normal for him to make a mistake.
It's just that the Dark Lord was very angry during this period, and he couldn't think of a good way to deal with the three-headed dog after several intrusions.
If it were a head-to-head encounter, he would certainly have the confidence to defeat the three-headed dog, but if he was not careful, the movement would become extremely huge.
It was the fourth floor of the castle. Dumbledore was on top and the professors were on the bottom. It was hard to explain whoever was offended.
So even if he knew that he was likely to be raped by a lion tonight, he had to sit here obediently——
Wait for this bastard in front of you to come over!
"You came quite early. Have you had dinner?"
Tver didn't care about Chilo's fierce gaze that couldn't be concealed by his hood, and sat down opposite him easily.
It was as if this was a conversation between old friends.
Quirrell put his right hand on the table and tapped the table with his fingernails, making a rhythmic "tap-tat-tat" sound, trying to put some pressure on Tver.
"I have been looking forward to this meeting for a long time!" He said every word through gritted teeth.
Tver smiled easily and said to Aberforth, who was walking towards him from behind: "Give me a bottle of butterbeer to the gentleman opposite."
Aberforth looked at him deeply before speaking calmly: "What about you?"
Thinking of last week's butterbeer, Tver shook his head quickly, "I'll forget it."
Quirrell laughed angrily, Tver showed him another trick.
Being able to sense the person behind you in a noisy environment, whether it is keen observation or simply powerful magic perception, is not something ordinary wizards can do.
At least he couldn't do it before he was possessed by the Dark Lord.
But now, with the help of the Dark Lord, Quirrell won't care about such a small trick.
If Tver knew what he was thinking, he would probably just roll his eyes.
You are playing tricks yourself.
After the small episode, as soon as Aberforth left, Quirrell couldn't wait to say: "Make a price. Tell me the weakness of the three-headed dog. No one will do this kind of transaction with you except me."
"I thought you would choose to ask the big man. It seems like he is easier to communicate with than me."
Tver was angry, intending to tell Quirrell that only he could give a straightforward answer to this kind of question.
Quirrell paused for a moment, "That's not good. One buyer and one seller. As long as your price is reasonable, I don't mind paying you now."
Tver immediately raised a finger and shook it several times in front of him.
"No, you can't give me the price I want now."
Can't give it?
Quirrell laughed angrily again, and the sound of loud puffs of air clearly reached Tver's ears.
His other hand was raised, holding a black cloth bag. He threw it away and the bag fell in front of Tver with a muffled sound.
The portion seems to be quite sufficient.
"Ten times, ten times the price last week! There are two hundred galleons here, enough to buy your life!"
At this time, Aberforth came up with a bottle of butterbeer and knocked it hard in front of Quirrell.
"One Galleon."
"Are you crazy?" Quirrell's disbelief could be heard even with the hood on. "A bottle of beer costs one galleons. Why don't you go and rob Gringotts?!"
Aberforth snorted and said disdainfully:
"There was a fool who failed to rob Gringotts in early August, and he is still wanted. How can we provide a comfortable place for black market transactions here?"
Quirrell was speechless, the corner of his mouth twitched, and for a moment he didn't know how to retort. Fortunately, he was wearing a hood, so no one could see his embarrassed expression.
However, Tweel was amused by Aberforth's words. He didn't know if he was aware of Quirrell's identity or if he thought of such words accidentally.
Looking at Aberforth's outstretched palm, Tver took out a gold galleon from his wallet and gently put it on it. Only then did Aberforth leave with satisfaction.
"There are only 199 galleons left now. Tell me the answer, otherwise you won't even think about going out today." Quirrell said in a stiff tone.
Tver simply pushed the money bag back.
"I said, you can't pay me back my price now."
"Oh!"
Quirrell slammed the table with his hand, making a loud sound. The wizards in the bar stopped their movements and looked at the place strangely.
There are a lot of black market transactions in the Pig Head Bar, but this is the first time they have seen such a big deal.
Quirrell turned a blind eye to this, but said angrily to Tver: "Then what's your price? Let me see if you really can't afford it!"
But Tver didn't want to be noticed all the time, so he cast an ear-blocking spell here to isolate the sound within the table area from the outside.
After doing all this, he stretched out a finger again, but this time it was no longer shaking, but half an inch from the table, two words were written in the void.
"Magic stone."
(The English word for Philosopher's Stone is Philosopher's, Stone)
Following Tver's movements, the words "Philosopher's Stone" also appeared on the table, but it was just as thin as a layer of fog on the glass, and disappeared from sight in the next second.
But it was enough for Quirrell to see clearly.
His right hand was faintly placed on the wand, and he took a deep look at Tver, and his whole person became calm.
"Who are you anyway? How do you know that thing exists?"
He has already made a decision in his heart. No matter what answer Tver gives, he will find a way to solve this hidden danger and avoid exposing him!
Tver glanced at Quirrell's little movement and smiled easily.
"You all know the existence of that thing, why can't I know, the little fool who failed to rob Gringotts?"
The existence of the Philosopher's Stone is indeed not a secret, and anyone with ulterior motives can detect any movement, so there are many wizards who have guessed that the Philosopher's Stone is in Hogwarts.
It's just that they all thought that Dumbledore had placed the Philosopher's Stone beside them, so they stopped trying to snatch it.
The condemned man in Azkaban would not be so stupid as to rush to snatch something that Dumbledore was protecting personally.
"But the question is, how did you know my goal?" Quirrell's voice became calmer and calmer.
Tver spread his hands and shrugged, "Of course I guessed it through clues like this."
Then he leaned forward, within five inches of Quirrell, and whispered:
"Do you think so, Professor Quirrell?"
