After everything was done, John was satisfied, and he cast a new disillusionment spell on himself.
Level 4 of the Disguise Curse is no less than an Auror from the Ministry of Magic.
Taking out the fireproof potion and drinking it, John walked into the fire.
Like drinking ice water, the fireproof potion suddenly penetrated his whole body.
The flames licked his body, but there was no burning sensation at all.
John kept moving forward along the flames, passing through the purple flames and then reaching the black flames.
He could feel the fireproof potion on his body disappearing quickly, so he quickened his pace and left the black flames before the effectiveness disappeared.
In front of him was the last room.
At the same time, two people were already inside.
John tensed up when he saw the tall man.
It's Quirrell.
It was Harry who was held hostage by Quirrell in front of the mirror.
"What's going on with this mirror? What's its function? Help me, Master!"
"Use that boy...use that boy..."
"Potter, come up here!"
Quirrell seemed to be talking to himself or asking, John walked out of the flames, his footsteps slowing down.
He knew that now was not a good time. Voldemort had not appeared yet and he could not take action.
What makes John even more curious is how Quirrell survived.
I have to say that this man's life is the same as Xiaoqiang's.
The aura on his body became even more sluggish, and there was a strong rancid smell coming from his body.
It was as if what was in front of him was not a living person, but a corpse.
Harry was held hostage by Quirrell and brought to the mirror. At this moment, Harry thought a lot.
He did not expect that Snape, whom he thought was the bad guy, was actually protecting him, and that Quirrell, the victim he thought was the real bad guy.
He wants to protect the Philosopher's Stone, but he doesn't know what to do now.
Quirrell was aggressive and Harry stood in front of the mirror.
Harry blinked at him in the mirror and put the Sorcerer's Stone in his pocket.
Only Harry knew all this, no one else knew about it, even Quirrell who was right next to him.
Harry started to tell lies: "I saw myself shaking hands with Dumbledore, and I...Findo won the Academy Cup."
Not getting what he wanted made Quirrell furious.
"Get away!" Quirrell pushed Harry away and cursed, lingering in front of the mirror.
Harry stepped aside, the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket, and tried to escape.
But he had just taken less than five steps when he heard the sound Quirrell had made when he asked himself.
"He's lying!"
Quirrell realized that he had been tricked, and became even more angry.
He was already weak because he didn't drink the unicorn's blood. If Voldemort hadn't found other ways to survive, he would have died long ago.
For this reason, he hated Harry deeply.
Taking out his wand, Quirrell shot a spell at Harry.
Harry flew out and fell to the ground. Quirrell had a look of madness on his face and shouted sternly: "Hurry up and hand over the Philosopher's Stone!"
Harry gritted his teeth and refused to speak.
"Let me talk to him, you're so useless, Quirinus!"
The shrill voice spoke again.
"No! Master, I can do it. I can definitely get the magic stone for you!"
Quirrell was completely panicked now. He stammered and asked his master to give him another chance.
But Voldemort no longer trusted this subordinate and took his body by force.
Now so weak, Quirrell couldn't defeat Voldemort.
Under Harry's horrified gaze, Quirrell's body turned in a strange posture.
He grabbed his head with both hands and twisted and turned it like a large rubber ball.
The nauseating smell became even stronger. The head wrapped in the scarf turned to the front, and Quirrell untied it bit by bit.
Behind that head, there was actually a face.
Harry had never seen such a ferocious and terrifying face, like chalk, with glowing red eyes and two slender nostrils like snakes underneath.
Quirrell said frightened and weakly: "Master, give me a chance."
Voldemort had a look of disgust on his face, and Quirrell lost his breath.
This body now has been completely controlled by Voldemort.
Looking at the culprit who made him what he is today, he whispered as if beside him: "Harry Potter..."
Harry wanted to retreat, but his legs seemed to be frozen, and the wound on his forehead stung.
"Look what I've become."
There was resentment in Voldemort's tone, he hated it so much.
The Dark Lord who was supposed to rule the magical world has now become nothing more than shadow and steam. He is a wandering soul. He has no body and can only live in those weak animals.
However, there are many people who are willing to let him enter their bodies, and Quirrell is one of them.
"When I get the elixir, I can recreate a body of my own."
Voldemort could already see how much panic he would plunge the world into after regaining his body, and he felt that everything was under control.
Dumbledore was taken away to the Ministry of Magic, and now there was no one who could stop Voldemort.
He held his wand, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Now, Harry, why don't you give me the Philosopher's Stone you have in your pocket?"
He is not the idiot Quirrell. In his heyday, he was a wizard on par with Dumbledore.
Naturally, this little trick couldn't be hidden from his eyes.
He raised his wand and swiped it, and the invisible knife cut open Harry's pocket.
A bright red stone fell from his pocket. Harry wanted to pick it up, but was tied up by a belt controlled by Voldemort.
When Voldemort picked up the thing he was thinking about, he let out a weird smile.
Looking at Harry, the guy he hated.
A hypocritical liar who rose to power by stepping on the great Dark Lord.
He wanted to torture this child, the being that the world called the savior.
"Look at you, my child. Your parents were very brave back then. I have always admired courage."
"I killed your father first. He would rather die than give in and fight me bravely. Your mother didn't have to die, but she tried her best to protect you. What a stupid thing to do."
Harry only felt the scar on his forehead hurt more, and memories from his childhood seemed to flash back in his mind.
That green light, and the breathtaking laughter.
"No, Voldemort, I will defeat you!" he shouted.
Voldemort smiled coldly and poked Harry's scar with his wand.
"Look, this scar, that savior's lie, do you really think of yourself as the savior?"
The wand moved over the scar, causing Harry to wail in pain.
Voldemort's smile gradually twisted, and he also felt that his body was dying quickly.
Without the soul of its original owner, Quirrell's body is turning into a corpse.
Voldemort raised the Sorcerer's Stone above his head, and with the light emitting from the bright red stone, he raised his wand to kill Harry.
Harry's breathing became rapid, and he stared at Voldemort, wondering if he was really going to die like this.
"My child, is the magic your mother left for you still there?"
Before taking action, Voldemort thought of the scene twelve years ago and hesitated.
He reached out and touched Harry's body, and blisters quickly rose up on the frail body.
With that magical presence, Voldemort could not harm Harry.
This made him very unwilling.
Voldemort regretted letting Quirrell die too early.
With the Philosopher's Stone in hand, he knew it was time to leave and take the Philosopher's Stone away before Dumbledore came back.
"Don't leave!"
Harry yelled angrily but to no avail. Voldemort was walking towards the door step by step right in front of his eyes.
Harry growled, feeling powerless inside.
Just when Voldemort was about to leave, John, who had been hiding, took action.
Voldemort was only an arm's length away from John.
At this distance, John struck decisively.
The big sword waved out a bright silver light.
He was stabbed in the back!
