Quirrell Returns

It was midnight, all was quiet, and the castle that had stood for a thousand years was fast asleep.

Quirinas Quirrell, draped in a dark cloak, returned to the castle silently, his cheeks flushed sickly under the shadow of the hood.

For the past six months, he had gradually figured out all the mechanisms protecting the Philosopher's Stone. He had fooled the arrogant professors, he had lulled Snape into a false sense of security, and he had successfully persuaded (deterred) the unidentified Black. All of this was for tonight.

Just today, he tricked the cunning Dumbledore with a fake letter and witnessed the headmaster of Hogwarts leaving the school.

Now, no one can stop him. He will overcome many obstacles to obtain the Philosopher's Stone and offer his loyalty to his master... Then, the name Quirinus Quirrell will surely resound throughout the entire wizarding community!

In the deserted corridor, only Quirrell's footsteps echoed between the walls weathered by time. He was highly focused, his emotions were heightened, and his senses were heightened.

Every sculpture in the shadows seemed like Dumbledore lurking in the shadows, and every gust of wind from afar sounded like professors from the school rushing towards them.

Fortunately, nothing unexpected happened, and Quirrell made it to the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor. Immediately, he heard the thunderous snoring of Cerberus.

Quirinas Quirrell knew exactly what was going to happen next. His heart was pounding like a drum, and he kept adjusting his mindset to dispel the last bit of cowardice.

As his breathing gradually calmed down, Quirrell, cloaked, suddenly pushed open the door!

The three-headed dog's barking immediately rang out. The beast, whose sweet dreams had been disturbed, became even more agitated. It pounced on the intruder like a madman. Quirrell, who was standing at the door, could even smell the three-headed dog's warm, smelly odor.

However, Quirrell, who came prepared, would not be harmed by the three-headed dog. He took out a harp he had prepared in advance, and a series of tinkling music filled the room. The three-headed dog's eyes began to droop.

Slowly, the three-headed dog stopped barking. It swayed a few times, its knees buckled, and it knelt down, then collapsed onto the floor and fell into a deep sleep.

The harp still tinkled, but Quirinas Quiro was nowhere to be seen.

Next up is the first challenge: Pomona Sprout's Devil's Web.

As Quirrell thought this, he lit his wand, letting the cold, damp air whistle past his ears.

A faint rustling sound came from the darkness. Quirrell gripped his alder wand tighter, the tip of the wand shining even brighter, so bright that it was hard to open one's eyes.

Just before making contact with the solid ground, Quirrell's rapidly falling body abruptly halted in mid-air, as if someone had suddenly pressed the pause button. He calmly adjusted his posture and then landed smoothly.

Pomona Sprout's devil's net never appeared; the rustling sounds were its only contribution to protecting the Philosopher's Stone.

"Ha!" Quirrell's laughter was loud and piercing. "A bunch of idiots!"

Quirrell's confidence soared as he easily navigated the Devil's Web, and he calmly stepped onto the only path, a stone corridor.

Listening to the sound of water dripping slowly down the wall, Quirrell strode forward, his contempt for Dumbledore growing even stronger.

Soon, soft rustling and tinkling sounds reached his ears, and he knew that the second test of guarding the Philosopher's Stone had arrived, a setup by Philius Frivius.

"Hmph!" Quirrell chuckled again, his disdain for his own dean evident.

Felius Frivi's challenge was exactly the same as before, with no changes whatsoever. It still involved flying brooms and flying keys, and passing the challenge was as easy as drinking water.

Without any hesitation, Quirrell flicked his wand, and the hundreds of keys flying at high speed slowed down. With another flick of his wand, the hundreds of keys separated in mid-air, no longer gathering together in a swarm.

A smug smile spread across his sickly flushed face. Quirrell summoned a flying broomstick from a short distance away, pushed off with his feet, and rose into the air, easily grasping the antique-looking key to the game.

"Professor Flitwick, are you too confident in your magic, or do you simply not consider me a human being?" Quirrell muttered to himself as he opened the door with the key.

The second room was pitch black, and nothing could be seen. But as Quirrell stepped in, the room suddenly lit up, illuminating a huge chessboard. This was Minerva McGonagall's arrangement, which incorporated transfiguration into Wizard Chess.

Like the previous two levels, this level poses no threat to Quirrell, as Ravenclaw is a house renowned for its wisdom.

After learning that McGonagall's scheme was related to Wizards' Chess, Quirrell began his preparations. He studied many Wizards' Chess records and even some Muggle chess records.

As Quirrell's chess skills improved, he thought of another possibility for passing the game. Why was he so obsessed with playing chess, or rather, why was he so determined to win this game?

This is the moment to verify that flash of inspiration.

Quirrell confidently stood in the position of the black queen. He had originally intended to replace the king on the board, but changed his mind at the last moment.

The battle on the black and white squares began. Even though Quirrell's chess skills had improved greatly, he still struggled. The white pieces ruthlessly overwhelmed one black piece after another, showing no mercy.

In just a short while, a large pile of lifeless black chess pieces lay scattered against the wall, but Quirrell still wore a confident smile, because he had never intended to win this game.

Quirrell's idea was simple: he wanted to get as close as possible to the white pieces' bottom line while ensuring that there were no white pieces around him.

That's right, Quirrell plans to skip class to force his way through the game, using a cunning method to humiliate the usually serious Minerva McGonagall.

At this moment, Quirrell was already standing on the second-lower line of the white pieces, just one step away from the door that represented passage, and the white pieces around him had all been attracted away by the black pieces.

A mocking smile crept onto Quirrell's face. He shot out like an arrow, rushing through the door and running down the next corridor in the blink of an eye.

"Hahaha!"

Quirrell ran while laughing loudly.

"Idiots! All idiots! After all this time, the checkpoint protecting the magic stone hasn't changed at all! Idiots! All idiots!"

Quirrell was cursing and laughing at the same time, but his laughter stopped abruptly after a few seconds. His already flushed face turned blood red with anger, making people very worried about his blood pressure.

"They must be looking down on me, they must be looking down on me!" Quirrell muttered. "Otherwise, why haven't they made any changes? They must think that these arrangements—even if I see them—don't matter!"

Then Quirrell started laughing again, the laughter starting softly and then getting louder and louder.

The deranged Quirrell raised his hands high and spun around in circles, laughing wildly and madly.

He shouted, "Albus Dumbledore! Don't underestimate me! I will get the Philosopher's Stone!"

In the dimly lit corridor, time seemed to lose its power. After an unknown amount of time, Quirrell finally stopped acting up. He pushed open the door in front of him, and a nauseating stench wafted out.

Quirrell held his breath and strolled into the stinking room. The magical light flashed and disappeared in an instant, and he dealt with the giant in the room with just one spell.

This troll was even larger than the Halloween troll, but Quirrell easily killed it. The unconscious troll lay motionless on the ground, with a large, bloody lump on its ugly head.

"My disguise was so successful, I fooled everyone, and they naturally assumed I was a good-for-nothing." Quirrell began to mutter to himself again, "Now, only that bastard Snape remains. Yes, and that old geezer Dumbledore too."

Quirrell opened the next door, knowing full well that Snape hadn't prepared anything terrible.

Aside from not understanding Dumbledore's intentions, Quirrell was aware of everyone else's plans and had begun making corresponding preparations early on.

The moment Quirrell stepped across the threshold, a flame erupted behind him, sealing the doorway. This flame was unusual; it was purple. At the same time, black flames also sprang up from the doorway leading to the front.

Quirrell, trapped in the room, remained calm. He walked to the only table in the room, picked up the parchment on it, and carefully read its contents.

Snape's challenges were less about magic and more about logical reasoning, which is precisely where many wizards are weak, and even some great wizards are not immune to this.

However, Quirinus Quirrell and Severus Snape have one thing in common: they are both half-bloods. The logical reasoning that can stump wizards is no problem for them, especially since Quirrell is a Ravenclaw.

In less than a minute, Quirrell had locked onto the smallest bottle on the table, which contained the potion that allowed people to move forward.

"Severus Snape, you self-important fool," Quirrell said dismissively. "You'll pay for this sooner or later."

With that, Quirrell ignored the potion that allowed people to move forward. He raised his alder wand and aimed it at the black flame blocking his path. As his bloodless lips opened and closed silently, the black flame grew weaker.

Quirrell's flushed face turned even redder. Taking advantage of the weakening of the black demonic fire, he quickly chanted a spell for himself, and flames spewed from the tip of his staff instantly enveloped him.

Then, Quirrell quickly strode through the weakening but not extinguished black flames. The red flames surrounding him collided with the black demonic fire blocking his path, and crackling explosions immediately filled the room.

When the crackling sounds ceased and the black flames devoured the red flames, Quirrell passed through Snape's obstacle unharmed.

Quirinus Quirrell had a very solid grasp of magical theory, and with Voldemort teaching him a few tricks, he easily overcame the numerous obstacles set up by the Hogwarts professors, just as he had done at Gringotts.

After overcoming numerous obstacles, Quirinas Quillo successfully reached the final stage, and the joy of success and anticipation for the future instantly spread across his face.

But before Quirrell could burst into laughter again, before he could celebrate the Philosopher's Stone being within his grasp, the joy of success vanished. He saw that someone was already standing in front of the tall Mirror of Eris.

The woman wore a well-tailored black dress adorned with intricate patterns woven from gold thread, and her long, smooth, satin-like black hair cascaded down her back.

The person turned around, revealing exquisite features, a beautiful face, a black brooch shaped like a medallion hanging on their chest, and dark eyes as bright and captivating as a lake illuminated by sunlight.

"Long time no see, Quirinas," Belvina said softly. "I'm curious why you're so late, making me miss my supper."

Quirrell's surprise was palpable. He looked at the beauty in front of the Mirror of Eris, puzzled as to why she was there and which side she was on tonight.

"Don't be nervous, don't be afraid, Quirinas." Belvina's tone was casual and calm, as if this was not the depths of Hogwarts, as if the Mirror of Erised behind her was just an ordinary mirror, as if the Philosopher's Stone was not here at all.

Belvina took two steps to the side, just enough to make room for the Mirror of Eris.

She continued, "No matter what, we share a secret, so why don't you put aside your sensitivity and come over here to stand next to me?"

Quirrell slowly moved his feet and stood in front of the Mirror of Eris with some doubt.

"What do you see in the mirror?" Belvina paced back and forth in the room, hands behind her back. "Do you see yourself achieving great success? Do you see yourself being adored by thousands? Or do you see yourself obtaining the Philosopher's Stone and offering it to your master?"

Quirrell did not answer; he did not want to admit that what he saw in the magic mirror was exactly the same as what Belvina had described.

"I was just saying it offhand, what if it actually comes true?" Belvina said with a light laugh. "The Mirror of Erised will reflect your true desires. You're really easy to read, Quirinas."

Every word Belvina uttered, every sound she made as she paced, gave Quirrell both a terrible headache and immense annoyance.

"The Mirror of Erised is a test set by Professor Dumbledore. Only those who pass the test can obtain the Philosopher's Stone," Belvina continued, like an NPC explaining a walkthrough. "To be precise, only this mirror is the real test."

What does that mean?

Quirrell turned around abruptly, unable to believe Belvina's words, and even more unwilling to believe them.

"Seriously? If you didn't even notice that, that's really disappointing," Belvina continued, as if she were performing a monologue. "Didn't you find the previous levels too—how should I say, too easy? Didn't you notice anything at all?"

As she spoke, Belvina raised her fair and delicate hand, then flipped her slender wrist, making a hand-flipping motion.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"