Hermione, Harry, and Ron

Quirrell spun around abruptly, his face a mask of startled panic and ferocity.

He saw Harry, and greed and killing intent instantly flared in his eyes.

The Master said this boy was useful!

"Potter!" Quirrell's voice was sharp, utterly unlike his usual stuttering persona.

Ron's gaze swept between Quirrell and Skofot, who looked pathetic in the corner. A terrible thought instantly formed.

He pointed at Skofot and roared angrily, "It's you! Leoqi! You really are the Dark Lord's lackey! You led him here, didn't you?!"

He automatically imagined Skofot's current "pathetic state" as a ploy or the result of an internal conflict.

Skofot seemed startled by Ron's roar, flinching slightly. It raised its tear-filled eyes and looked at them, bewildered and wronged.

Its lips moved but no sound came out. It just clutched its potion bottle tighter, like a child who was misunderstood and unable to defend itself.

(Rabbit Rhymer effect is still active)

Hermione also frowned, her eyes shifting between Skofot and Quirrell. She felt the situation wasn't that simple. Leoqi's appearance didn't seem faked, but Quirrell was clearly the greater threat right now.

"Shut up, Weasley!" Quirrell shouted impatiently. He didn't have time to deal with these brats' accusations; his Master needed the Philosopher's Stone! He needed Potter!

However, the entity on the back of his head seemed extremely displeased with being called a "lackey" and the chaotic situation unfolding.

"Enough... this boring farce..." A cold, hoarse voice, like a viper's hiss, suddenly sounded from the back of Quirrell's head.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione's eyes widened in terror.

Under their horrified gaze, Quirrell trembled as he reached up and began to undo his thick purple scarf.

The scarf unwound layer by layer, finally revealing the monstrous, distorted face on the back of his head, as if melted and warped!

The face had no nose, only two slits representing nostrils. A pair of crimson eyes glittered with cruel, malicious light.

"Voldemort!" Harry gasped, his heart nearly stopping.

Ron let out a short scream, and Hermione clamped her hand tightly over her mouth.

"Harry Potter..." Voldemort stared at Harry with those red eyes, his voice carrying a sickening intimacy. "We meet again..."

"You... you killed my parents!" Harry's voice trembled with rage and fear.

"Yes..." Voldemort hissed, "That ancient magic your mother cast on you before she died... it prevents me from touching you... but it's different now... Look at me, attached to another, surviving like a parasite by drinking unicorn blood... But I will regain my strength soon... as long as you help me get the stone from the mirror..."

"Never!" Harry roared.

"Seize him! Quirrell!" Voldemort commanded.

Quirrell lunged at Harry. Ron tried to intervene, but Quirrell casually waved his wand.

"Stupefy!"

A red light struck, and Ron slumped to the ground without even a groan.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, trying to cast a spell, but Quirrell's wand pointed at her again.

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes appeared out of nowhere, binding Hermione tightly. She also fell to the ground, unable to move.

Only Harry was left facing Quirrell and Voldemort.

"Don't resist, boy..." Voldemort's voice was full of temptation and threat. "Give me the stone from the mirror..."

Harry backed away step by step, his eyes fixed on the terrifying face on the back of Quirrell's head, his mind racing, thinking of a way to escape.

He glanced at Skofot in the corner, still "trembling" with teary eyes, and felt a mix of confusion and uncertainty.

Is he really Voldemort's subordinate?

If so, why is he like this?

If not, why is he here?

Meanwhile, Skofot clutched its potion bottle tightly, shrinking itself further, as if terrified by the scene.

Only the faint "slurp" sounds occasionally coming from the bottle proved that it was still "struggling" to soothe its wounded body and mind with "drinks."

It was waiting, waiting for that crucial moment of contact between Harry and Voldemort.

That was the moment it was truly interested in.

The air in the room seemed to freeze, leaving only Harry's heavy breaths and Voldemort's unsettling hissing whispers.

Harry retreated step by step, his hand subconsciously brushing over the pocket of his robe.

A subtle, almost imperceptible movement.

But Skofot, lurking in the shadows like the most patient leopard, watching with the corner of its eye, caught it.

The instant Harry's fingertips touched the pocket, there was an extremely brief, confirming pause, followed by a barely noticeable relaxation that flickered across his tense brow.

The Philosopher's Stone! He had it!

It was in Harry's pocket!

"Now!"

The feigned confusion and vulnerability in Skofot's eyes vanished like mist blown away by the wind.

His mind raced; the [Rabbit Rhymer] card was unhesitatingly removed, and [Scavenger] was re-equipped.

No warning, no buildup.

A vast, suffocating, viscous, and tangible wave of terrifying killing intent, like a ferocious beast that had slumbered for ten thousand years suddenly awakening, erupted centered on Skofot.

This killing intent was no longer the probing ice needles from before, but a tsunami-like shockwave, carrying the cruel will of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, and pure destructive aura. It instantly enveloped the entire room, pressing down precisely on Quirrell—

Or rather, on Voldemort on the back of his head!

Quirrell and Voldemort, who were fully focused on pressuring Harry, were struck as if by an invisible giant hammer!

Quirrell's body stiffened abruptly, his movements completely halted, his face filled with extreme fear and disbelief.

Even Voldemort's hoarse voice abruptly stopped. For the first time, his crimson eyes showed clear shock and... a hint of instinctive apprehension towards an equal or even more dangerous entity.

This killing intent... far surpassed an ordinary wizard, and even surpassed most of his subordinates during his prime!

What the hell is this kid?!

In the less than a second of stiffness caused by the impact of the immense killing intent—

Skofot moved!

He sprang from the corner like a phantom, his speed so great that only an afterimage remained.

He didn't attack Quirrell's body; instead, his target was clear. He thrust his hands violently towards Quirrell's back—

More accurately, towards the position on the back of Quirrell's head where Voldemort's face was.

He condensed all his terrifying power into his arms.

"Bang!"

Quirrell staggered from the immense force, uncontrollably, and crashed directly into Harry Potter, who was just inches away!

"Leoqi, you bastard!!"

Harry only had time to let out a curse mixed with surprise and anger, He hadn't even seen how Skofot had moved, when he saw Quirrell's contorted face and Voldemort's crimson eyes on the back of his head pressing towards him.

"Ah—!!!"

The moment Quirrell's skin (especially the part on the back of his head where Voldemort was) touched Harry's body, a dazzling golden-red light, as intense as the midday sun, erupted from Harry.