Dumbledore, Aren't You Willing to Come Out?
When Wizet saw the Troll's corpse, she murmured, "Professor Sprout was right. The Devil's Snare has an astonishing ability to strangle, and it can even effectively kill Troll..."
The Troll's bones were almost completely shattered, and it lay there like a lump of flesh, with a few ribs protruding from its skin, making it look particularly ferocious.
The Devil's Snare that caused all this, however, shrank back into a ball because it feared the light.
They could easily crush the Troll, yet they are hampered by a simple Wand-Lighting Charm...
For some reason, Wizet suddenly thought of the rules of Beast Chess: the mouse can eat the elephant.
The next level is in a small room with a table on it containing seven different Potions, along with corresponding riddles.
The moment the doors closed, purple and black flames rose up, engulfing both doors in the room.
Voldemort stepped past Wizet and tapped lightly on the table.
The Potions Potions on top immediately changed positions, but after only a few seconds, they returned to their original order.
"Hehe... How interesting! Since you want to play games, let's go!"
Wizet detected a hint of contempt, and a certain eagerness... excitement, in Voldemort's voice.
Voldemort said in a low voice, "My student, these two levels are too boring. Let's go wait for the other guests!"
He didn't glance at the Potions on the table again, but simply waved his wand, extinguishing the flames.
Wizet followed closely behind, and could faintly hear Harry's voice. "We don't have to deal with the Troll anymore! Ugh... let's go, it stinks here... ugh!"
Forced to use a full-body binding charm on Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron finally reached the fourth-floor corridor after some twists and turns.
"The corridor door is open!" Harry's voice was filled with despair. "Snape really did find a way through Fluffy!"
He quickly moved closer and began to play the flute that Hagrid had given him, trying to make the music as rhythmic as possible.
Whether it was his musical talent or Fluffy's vague understanding of music, Fluffy eyelids drooped after only a few notes.
"He actually left a staircase here? It must be very deep down there... Lumos Solem!" Hermione frowned and thought, then cast Wand-Lighting Charm.
Through the dim light, Harry could vaguely see something wriggling below. "Did you see that? What's down there?"
Ron glanced at Hermione and waved his wand to cast the Wand-Lighting Charm.
"It's the Devil's Snare! No wonder they used stairs." Hermione demonstrated her quick thinking in answering questions. "Let's go down quickly! Keep the Wand-Lighting Charm up; the Devil's Snare is afraid of this!"
Harry and his friends successfully made it through the room with the Flying Keys, but were blocked in the room with the Wizard's Chess.
Ron used his Wizard's Chess skills, losing consciousness in the process, to win the Wizard's Chess and gain the chance to enter the next room.
Hermione and Harry, illuminated by the Wand-Lighting Charm, saw the mangled corpse of the Troll and gasped in horror, then began to retch from the pervasive stench.
The two arrived at the Potions room, where Hermione, following a clue on the table, found two bottles of Potions that could pass through flames.
Seeing that there was only a small amount of the Potions, Harry decided to face the problem alone. "Hermione, you drink the other Potions and go back to Ron."
"Get back up on the Flying Broomstick and have him use Hedwig to deliver the message to Headmaster Dumbledore. Also, give that clue to Professor McGonagall; if she does, she'll believe us!"
"What if there's more than just Professor Snape inside... there's also He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Hermione asked worriedly.
Harry flipped his hair back, revealing the lightning bolt-shaped scar. "I'm the ' The Boy Who Lived '! I defeated Voldemort once, maybe I can escape danger again?"
"Hurry up!" He forced a smile. "The sooner you find Professor McGonagall, or get Dumbledore here, the safer I will be!"
Hermione's lips trembled slightly as she hugged Harry. "You're a wonderful wizard."
"I always have to rely on you for my homework!" Harry felt his ears turn a little red. "Before, I had to rely on Wizet."
Hermione's eyes reddened. "I've only been a bookworm... As a wizard, you need much more... like courage..."
"Hmm!" Harry turned around, a look of fear on his face.
He practically shoved the bottle into his mouth to make sure he drank all the Potions before resolutely stepping into the black flames.
The Potions gave him a feeling of being in an ice cellar, not only protecting him from the flames but also freezing away his fear.
The warm flames enveloped his entire body, just like the unwavering determination and courage that filled him at that moment, making him fearless.
Finally, the room was more spacious than I had imagined, with a tall mirror in the center, its exterior luxurious and its height reaching the ceiling.
"Just as I expected..." Voldemort chuckled softly. "There is a magical artifact hidden inside this mirror. I can sense it. Everything is going according to plan."
He manipulated Quirrell's body, making him stand in front of the mirror, seemingly examining something.
Wizet pursed her lips, constantly adjusting her breathing, and practiced the Purifying Cleansing Soul Washing Spell in her mind.
As expected, Voldemort was unable to unravel the secret of the mirror for the time being, and he was ready.
Before long, Harry finally passed through the fiery gate and appeared in the room.
Voldemort's voice echoed throughout the room, "Harry Potter! I heard your touching speech, what a ' The Boy Who Lived '!"
"It's not Snape?" Harry scanned the room, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Who are you?"
His attention was entirely on Voldemort. He quickly ran down the stairs and demanded, "Who are you?"
"Isn't this what you consider an honor?" Voldemort commanded Quirrell to pull down his hood, revealing a head twice the size of a normal person's. "And you still have to ask... who I am?"
Before Quirrell's pale, paper-white face, a layer of Black Mist covered, vaguely forming a mask whose outline was indistinct.
"This is Gryffindor, reckless... exceptionally reckless!" The mask twisted slightly, as if the lips were moving, uttering the voice that belonged to Voldemort.
Harry's eyes widened as an unspeakable pain shot through his scar, a pain he had never experienced before.
He gritted his teeth, his voice breaking. "Professor Quirrell? No! You are... Voldemort! You are Voldemort!"
"Not bad..." Voldemort said casually, his attention not on Harry at all, but constantly turning his head to observe the unusual activity in the room.
"So you're unwilling to come out?" His voice was tinged with disappointment. "Hidden in the shadows, observing, observing again and again! You've been doing this for over a decade."