Hogwarts lazy snake

In the dim room, two silver rays of light suddenly bloomed like a sacred dawn. The light was like a sharp sword blade, tearing through the thick darkness.

As the light flickered, the scene in front of him gradually became clearer. However, the situation in the room was as complicated as a tangled mess.

The possessed Quirrell was in a delicate central position, surrounded by Horn, Dumbledore and Harry in a three-point triangle layout.

The scene was like hunters stalking a wounded but still dangerous beast.

At this time, Harry had collapsed to the ground. He lay there quietly, like a puppet with his soul taken away, his life or death uncertain.

His body was slightly curled up, his once vibrant face was now pale, and his black hair was scattered messily on the ground like a pool of black ink.

Dumbledore, who was always calm and composed, now looked a little embarrassed.

His robe was no longer as flowing and neat as usual. It was stained with dust and some mysterious black stains, as if he had just experienced a thrilling battle.

There was a trace of fatigue on his face, and his usually deep and bright eyes now looked a little more solemn. His gaze was fixed on Quirrell, his wand tightly grasped in one hand, and his other hand was firmly holding the silver sword stuck in the ground. The sword emitted a faint light.

It seemed like it was his last line of defense at this moment.

Looking at Quirrell who was surrounded in the middle, he looked extremely weird at this moment.

His skin was a creepy gray, like the dark clouded sky before a storm, and it exuded a breath of death.

Moreover, his skin was covered with cracks, which were like a dry riverbed, crisscrossing across his body.

It made him look like a porcelain doll that was about to break, as if the slightest touch would completely disintegrate into countless cold pieces.

The black cloak that was originally formed by the black air on his body was now tattered, like the rags on the body of a beggar who crawled out from the depths of hell.

The black fog was surging restlessly at the edge, as if countless small snakes were crawling in it, and from time to time it would emit a few wisps of black smoke, giving off a foul smell.

There was also a deep cut on his wrist. The wound was like a ferocious little mouth, and bright red blood kept flowing out of it.

Drop by drop, it falls on the ground, making a chilling "tick-tick" sound.

The blood was not a normal red color, but a strange dark red color. It gathered into a small pool on the ground, like a demonic swamp emitting an evil aura.

"Horn, you guys are finally awake, huh? Harry!? Harry!"

Dumbledore held the silver sword stuck in the ground with one hand and held the wand with the other hand, looking vigilantly at the 'greedy' Quirrell.

Seeing Horn and Harry wake up, his tense mood relaxed a little, and a trace of imperceptible relief flashed in his eyes.

However, when his eyes fell on Harry who suddenly fell to the ground, his face was instantly filled with tension and anxiety. He called Harry's name with a worried look on his face, and his voice echoed in the dim room.

Horn looked at everything in front of him, and it was as if there was an old projector in his mind slowly playing what had happened before.

Before that, Horn discovered that the bullets shot by him and Harry had an unexpected effect on Quirrell's body, and he acted decisively.

According to the pre-made plan, a call was sent to Dumbledore, who had been hiding in the Mirror of Erised and waiting for an opportunity.

The plan went very smoothly at the beginning, like a precision machine running in an orderly manner.

But just when Horn was about to take out the sealing scroll specially used to deal with the 'Old', Quirrell, who was possessed by greed, seemed to realize that he had fallen into a trap.

Suddenly, a flash of crazy determination flashed in his eyes, and then he crushed a magic stone without hesitation.

Everyone present, except Harry, was shocked by his action.

After all, he had gone to great lengths to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, but now he was so decisive in destroying it.

Although it was just a 'fake' Philosopher's Stone made by Horne and Flamel using the Philosopher's Stone.

Of course, the other party should not be able to tell that although it is fake, it has the ability to unleash the peak power of the magic stone once.

Perhaps at that moment, everything around was permeated by Quirrell's endless desire, and everyone seemed to be pulled by an invisible force and plunged into an illusion.

It is a utopian world that everyone dreams of, a place full of beauty and temptation, like a sweet trap, exuding a charming fragrance that makes people unable to help but sink into it.

"I...I'm...fine."

At this moment, Harry, who was lying on the ground unable to move, suddenly made a weak sound.

The sound seemed to come from far away, as faint as a candle in the wind, and could go out at any time.

"I'm glad you're okay..."

Horn responded subconsciously, but before he could finish his words, he suddenly felt his nose wet, as if a cold little snake was crawling on the tip of his nose.

He reached out and touched it, and found his hands were covered in blood.

The blood kept flowing out of his nasal cavity like a small red waterfall, and could not be stopped.

"What happened?" Horn's heart was full of doubts, but his body became a little weak because of this sudden situation.

"Cough, cough, puff, cough"

Harry suddenly started coughing violently again, and every cough was like a sharp hook, pulling his body hard.

"Harry?! What's wrong with you all of a sudden?"

Dumbledore was just happy about Harry's reaction, but before he could show his joy on his face, he saw Harry vomiting blood.

His eyes were full of worry, and he waved his wand without hesitation, and a green beam of healing magic instantly shot towards Harry.

After doing all this, he turned his head to look at Horn and found that Horn was also bleeding non-stop, and the blood had gathered into a small pool on the ground.

The mist-like guardian angel on Horn's body saw his master bleeding, as if he sensed the danger.

It immediately emitted the holy light unique to the patron saint. That light was like the warm sun in winter, shining gently on Horn's body, trying to expel the unclean power in Horn's body.

Horn suddenly felt his body warm, as if wrapped in a warm current, but the continuous nosebleed still showed no signs of stopping.

Dumbledore did not hesitate to let his patronus, the silver phoenix, fly towards Harry.

The silver phoenix radiated dazzling silver light. It flew gracefully to Harry, spread its wings, enveloped Harry in a silver light, and began to expel the evil power in Harry's body.

"Hohoho~hoho, it's useless, you ant, it's useless, these two are much weaker than you. Hohoho, die!"

Greedy let out a strange, shrill laugh when he saw Horn and Harry's miserable state and their methods of self-rescue.

His laughter sounded like nails scratching on a blackboard, making people's scalps tingle.

There was not a trace of disappointment in his eyes because Horn and Harry had escaped from his illusion. Instead, his eyes were filled with a kind of cruel mockery, as if in his eyes, Horn and Harry were like two dying insects that could not escape from his palm no matter what.

Horn suddenly saw the blood on the ground, which was strangely flowing towards one place like a conscious little snake.

"Burning fire!"