Mystic Wizard in Azeroth

　　 When Harry crossed the last flame, he saw someone he had never thought of: Quirrell.

　　 "It's you!" Harry called out in surprise.

　　 "It's me," Quirrell turned his head and said calmly, "I was just wondering if I would see you here or the one named Flivy."

　　 "But-why are you, not Snape -"

"Hahaha, Snape?" Quirrell sneered. "Yeah, he really doesn't look like a good person. He is gloomy and gloomy all day, flying back and forth like a giant bat, and he especially likes to target the grid. The students of Lanfindor are very helpful to us. With him there, who would doubt the poor, poor-knot-stammering Chiloist-Professor?"

　　 Harry couldn't believe all this.

　　 "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, I wanted to kill you. If your friend Miss Granger rushed over to Snape and knocked me down during the Quidditch game, you should be in a few seconds. It fell off the broom. It wasn't Snape who chanted a curse to protect you, you fell off early."

　　 "And the time in the Forbidden Forest, was that mysterious hooded man also you?"

"Of course, how could I refuse the little request of the great master? It's just that your luck is really good. The first time Snape helped you, and the second time that little Flivy helped you, I now I must kill you late to see who else can help you!"

　　 Quirrell snapped a finger. It was too late and it was fast, but a few ropes jumped up out of thin air to tie Harry firmly.

　　 "You are so nosy, Potter. You have done so much extra work this semester, and you still care about the whereabouts of the Philosopher's Stone. From Halloween to the present, you have broken a lot of my things."

　　 "Okay, watch it quietly, Potter, I need to take a good look at this magic mirror."

　　 Harry discovered that the Eris Mirror was standing behind him.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Sorcerer's Stone," Quirrell said excitedly, tapping on the gorgeous frame. "Only Dumbledore can get things out of it... but that old thing is in London right now. , When he comes back, I will take the magic stone and fly away!"

　　 "But I saw you arguing with Snape several times, in the forbidden forest, in the library—" Harry could only do his best to interfere with Quirrell's attention.

"Of course," Quirrell replied lazily, "he has been suspicious of me. Ha, it turns out that it is a former Death Eater who has been wary of me. Unfortunately, this is useless. I have a master as my backer. How can I Are you afraid of his fright?"

　　 Quirrell turned back from behind the magic mirror and stared greedily inside the mirror.

　　 "I saw the Sorcerer's Stone.. I am offering it to my master... but where is it hidden?"

　　 Harry sat calmly on the steps, not struggling, he found that the more struggling, the tighter the ropes that bound him, he had to prevent Quirrell from focusing all his attention on the magic mirror.

　　 "But Snape always seems to hate me so much."

"Oh, of course he hates you," Quirrell said casually. "Gosh, he must hate you. Back then, he and your father were studying at Hogwarts, don't you know? They hated each other, they didn't share Dai Tian, ​​but he never wanted you to die. And your mother—"

　　 "What's the matter with my mother?" Harry heard this, no longer able to fight with the rope, and asked anxiously.

　　 "Oh, I suddenly don't want to say it." Quirrell stopped talking.

　　 "What about you? I heard you crying a few days ago—"

　　 Quirrell's face flashed a tremor of fear for the first time.

　　 "Sometimes," he said, "I find it difficult to follow my master's instructions—

　　He is a great wizard, and my strength is so weak—"

　　 "Are you saying that he was in the classroom with you?" Harry asked in surprise.

"He is with me no matter where I go," Quirrell said calmly, "I met him while traveling the world. I was a silly young man at the time, with a ridiculous idea of ​​right and wrong. The idea. The owner pointed out my mistake:

　　 There is no right and wrong in the world, only power, and there are those incompetent people who cannot gain power..

　　 Since then, I have served him faithfully, but I have disappointed him many times. He has always been very strict with me. "

　　 Quirrell trembled suddenly.

　　 "He never forgave my mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Sorcerer's Stone from Gringotts, he was very unhappy. He punished me... and decided to monitor me more closely from then on—"

　　 Quirrell’s voice was getting lower and lower, Harry could no longer hear him, but his heart was disturbed by what Quirrell said: What is the relationship between his mother and Snape?

　　 "I really don't understand.. Is the Philosopher's Stone hidden in the mirror? Should I break the mirror?" Quirrell cursed softly.

　　 "Idiot, use that boy...Use that boy..." A strange, sharp voice seemed to come from Quirrell's body.

　　 "Well, Potter, come forward."

　　 Quirrell patted both hands, and the rope tied to Harry was automatically untied.

　　 Harry stood up, "Come here," Quirrell said, "Look at the mirror and tell me what you see!"

"I have to lie to him," Harry thought desperately, and cheered himself on, "Hermione is going to find reinforcements. I must look in the mirror first and then make up a set of lies to trick him into delaying time. I can of."

　　 Quirrell leaned behind him, and Harry smelled a strange smell, which seemed to come from the scarf on Quirrell's head.

　　 He closed his eyes, stood in front of the magic mirror, and then opened his eyes.

　　 He saw himself in the mirror, his face was pale and frightened at first, but after a while, he smiled.

　　 Harry in the mirror reached into his pocket, took out a bright red stone, then blinked and put the stone in his pocket again.

　　 At this moment, Harry felt that a heavy object really fell into his pocket, and he actually got the Sorcerer's Stone.

　　 "How is it?" Quirrell asked impatiently, "What did you see?"

　　 Harry summoned his courage.

　　 "I saw myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he said casually, "he was giving me awards! Someone was taking pictures, and I—I got the first Merlin Medal for my article!"

　　 Quirrell began to curse again.

　　 "You walk away for me," he said.

　　 When Harry stepped aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone stick to his thigh. Does he dare to run away with it now?

　　 Just then, the flames at the door vibrated again, and Quirrell and Harry turned their heads to look there at the same time.

　　 A tall figure with pale blond hair and a touch of water vapor around him appeared. Harry saw that the human heart raised his throat, and he breathed out until he could see the man clearly.

　　 He hurried to the person, and Quirrell didn't care about him, but stared at the newcomer cautiously.

　　 "Mr. Flivy, you are here!" Harry said excitedly, "Professor Quirrell--"

　　 "It's okay, Harry," Aristophane stared at Quirrell, "Navi and Hermione are all very well, you can hide to the side and watch, the next battle is not something you can participate in."

　　 Harry grabbed his trouser pocket tightly and retreated quietly into the corner.

　　 "Meeting again, Hooded Man," Aristophanes clenched his wand, "Or should I call you, Voldemort?"

　　 Quirrell stared at him tightly. At this moment, the sharp voice appeared again:

　　 "Let me talk to him... face to face..."

　　 "Master, your physical strength has not recovered yet!"

　　 "This little strength... I still have it..."

　　 Harry watched Quirrell take off his headscarf, and then turned around. He wanted to scream in fear, but he couldn't make any sound like being cursed.

　　 There was a face on the back of Quirrell's head. Harry had never seen such a terrifying face. The color of that face was as dead as a chalk, the red eyes glowed, and underneath were two slender nostrils like snakes.

　　 "Hello, Mr. Flivy Jr., and Harry Potter..." he whispered.

　　 Harry tried his best to shrink into the corner, for fear that this man would stare at him.

"Do you have any last words? Mr. Voldemort?" Aristophanes gave himself the two buffs of Ice Armor and Diamond Body Skin and raised his wand~www.wuxiaspot.com~ Come and take refuge in me, little Flivy ! Your ingenuity deserves greater power! "The voice suddenly became frenzied. "Dumbledore can't give you anything I can give you. The decadent wizarding world cannot tolerate a genius like you!" "

　　 Harry looked at Aristophanes worriedly, for fear of him being bewitched.

　　 "Oh?" Aristophane laughed playfully, "You don't even have a complete body now, so what can you give me?"

"As long as I get the Sorcerer's Stone, and supplemented by the blood of your unicorn, I can be reborn in an instant, stronger than before! When I come back to life, we will first summon my men before liberating Az Caban, the dementors are my natural ally, and the werewolves are my best subordinates! When we dominate the entire wizarding world, you, as my deputy, will be one person below ten thousand people!" He continued to use extremely temptation Li's voice said.

　　 "Voldemort, oh no, Tom Riddle—"

　　 "You are not allowed to use that name!" Voldemort called.

　　 "Perhaps Dumbledore protected you too well, there is a reason you never seem to understand—"

"what?"

"In the wizarding world, strength is power, and knowledge is power! When you are strong enough to top everyone’s knowledge, you don’t need to find power, power will come to you! Fear, intimidation, massacre, but It's your self satisfaction!"

　　 Before the words fell, Aristophane released the magic that he had prepared, and saw a lightning ball whizzing past, directly hitting the back of Quirrell's head-that distorted face.

　　 "Ah! Come on, Quirrell, kill him for me!"

　　 Quirrell also screamed, shaking his body a few times, gritted his teeth and turned around and took out his wand to prepare to cast the spell.