Chapter 32: 32: Voldemort and the Backstab

32: Voldemort and the Backstab

John was satisfied after finishing everything. He cast another Disillusionment Charm on himself.

The Disillusionment Charm Level 4 was no less powerful than the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic.

He took out the fireproof potion and drank it, then walked into the fire.

It was like drinking ice water, the fireproof potion penetrated his whole body at once.

The flames licked his body, but there was no burning sensation.

John continued to move forward along the flames, passing the purple flames and reaching the black flames.

He could feel that the fireproof potion on his body was disappearing quickly, so he quickened his pace and left the black flames before the effect disappeared.

In front of him was the last room.

At the same time, there were already two people in it.

When John saw the tall man, his body tensed up.

It was Quirrell.

And the person besides Quirrell was Harry.

"What's wrong with this mirror? What is its function? Help me, Master!"

"Use that boy... Use that boy..."

"Potter, come here!"

Quirrell seemed to be talking to himself and asking, John walked towards the room, his steps slow.

He knew that now was not a good time. Voldemort had not appeared yet, so he could not make a move.

What made John even more curious was how Quirrell survived.

It had to be said that this man's life was like a cockroach.

His breath was even weaker, and he exuded a strong stench of decay.

It was as if the person 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, who he thought was a bad guy, was actually protecting himself, and that Quirrell, the victim, was the real bad guy.

He wanted to protect the Philosopher's Stone, but now he didn't know what to do.

Quirrell was aggressive, and Harry stood in front of the mirror.

Harry in the mirror blinked at him and put the Philosopher's Stone into his pocket.

Only Harry knew all this, and no one else knew it even if Quirrell was next to him.

Harry began to lie with a straight face: "I saw myself shaking hands with Dumbledore, everyone is praising me and Grefindore has won the House Cup."

Quirrell was so furious that he did not get what he wanted.

"Get out of here!" Quirrell pushed Harry away and lingered in front of the mirror, cursing.

Harry stepped back to the side. The Philosopher's Stone was in his pocket. He wanted to take this opportunity to escape.

But he had only taken five steps when he heard the voice that Quirrell had used when he was asking and answering himself.

"He's lying!"

Quirrell realized that he had been fooled, and he was even more angry.

He was already weak because he had not sucked the blood of the unicorn. If Voldemort had not had other ways to prolong his life, he would have died by now.

And now this kid was making a fool of him! For this reason, he hated Harry to the core.

Taking out his wand, Quirrell shot a spell at Harry.

Harry flew out and fell to the ground. Quirrell's face was full of madness, and he said sternly: "Hand over the Philosopher's Stone!"

Harry clenched his teeth and did not speak.

"Let me talk to him, you are useless, Quirinus!"

The sharp voice spoke again.

"No! Master, I can do it, I can definitely get the Philosopher's Stone for you!"

Quirrell was completely panicked now, and he stuttered to ask the master to give him another chance.

But Voldemort no longer trusted this subordinate and forcibly took his body.

Quirrell was so weak now that he could not compete with Voldemort.

Under Harry's horrified gaze, Quirrell's body turned in a strange posture.

He grabbed his head with both hands and twisted it hard, like a large rubber ball.

The disgusting smell became stronger. The head wrapped in a scarf turned in front of him, and Quirrell untied it bit by bit.

Behind that head, there was a human-like face.

Harry had never seen such a hideous and terrifying face, like chalk, with red eyes emitting light, and below were two long and thin nostrils like snakes.

Quirrell said weakly in fear: "Master, give me a chance."

Voldemort showed a disgusted expression on his face, and Quirrell was out of breath.

This body is now completely controlled by Voldemort.

Looking at the culprit who made his state like this, he whispered to him: "Harry Potter..."

Harry wanted to step back, but his legs were frozen and his body didn't listen to his mind. The wound on his forehead was stinging.

"Look at what I have become."

Voldemort's tone contained resentment. He hated it too much.

The Dark Lord who should have ruled the whole wizarding world has now become only a shadow and steam. He is a wandering soul. He has nobody and can only live on someone else's body, recharging his vitality by those weak animals.

However, there are some people who are willing to let him enter their bodies, and Quirrell is one of them.

"When I get the elixir of life, I can recreate my own body."

Voldemort can already see how much panic the world will fall into after he regains his body. He feels that everything will be under his control.

He held the wand and narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Now, Harry, why don't you give me the Philosopher's Stone in your pocket?"

He was not that fool Quirrell. In his heyday, he was a wizard who could be on par with Dumbledore.

This little trick naturally could not be hidden from his eyes.

He raised his wand and slashed 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 the deformed turban controlled by Voldemort.

When Voldemort finally picked up the thing he had been wanting all this time, he laughed ...strangely.

He looked at Harry, his eyes filled with delight.

This kid was hailed as the savior. He defeated the great Dark Lord Voldemort when he was a baby! Haha! What a hypocritical liar.

He wanted to torture this child, the one who was called the savior by the world.

"Look at you, child. Your parents were very brave back then. I always admire courage."

"I killed your father first, but he would rather die than surrender. He bravely fought me. Your mother didn't have to die, but she risked her life to protect you. What a stupid thing to do. And look at you now. She really died for nothing"

Harry felt that the scar on his forehead was more painful than ever, and his mind seemed to flash back to the memories of his childhood.

That green light and the suffocating laughter.

"No, Voldemort, she didn't die for nothing!" He shouted.

Voldemort smiled coldly and poked Harry's scar with his wand.

"Look at this scar, the lie of the savior, do you really think of yourself as a savior?"

The wand moved on 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 was turning into a corpse.

Voldemort raised the Philosopher's Stone above his head, and the bright red stone emitted a light. He raised his wand to put an end to Harry.

Harry's breathing became rapid, and he stared at Voldemort. Was he really going to die like this?

"Child, is the magic your mother left you still there?"

Before taking action, Voldemort remembered a scene twelve years ago and hesitated.

He reached out and touched Harry's body, and bubbles quickly rose on this weak body.

With the existence of that magic, Voldemort could not hurt Harry.

This made him very unwilling.

Voldemort regretted letting Quirrell die too early.

With the Philosopher's Stone in hand, he knew he should leave and take the Philosopher's Stone away before Dumbledore came.

"Don't leave!"

Harry shouted angrily but to no avail. Voldemort was walking towards the door step by step in front of him.

Harry growled, feeling powerless in his heart.

Just as 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 attacked decisively.

The sword swung with a brilliant silver light.

He stabbed him in the ass—ehm—back!

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