Voldemort's Recruitment

After about half an hour, Quirrell finally limped through the Troll's room and arrived at the obstacle set up by Snape.

He looked very strange, as if he had aged decades in an instant, his face was extremely pale and covered with wrinkles.

Moreover, Quirrell seemed to be seriously injured, his whole body reeking of blood, and he grimaced in pain with every step he took.

After Quirrell entered the room, the magical flames that had been extinguished rose up again.

He walked shakily to the table where the Potions was placed, picked up the parchment, and began to read it carefully.

"... Death does not lurk among Giant and dwarfs."

The second one from the left and the second one from the right look different, but they taste the same.

A smile slowly spread across Quirrell's face.

That idiot Snape actually thought he couldn't reason logically... Ridiculous, he graduated from Ravenclaw with eight "O"s.

Finding keys, playing chess, and fighting Troll are what he's truly good at.

Quirrell conjured a feather, dipped it into a spot on his body with a lot of blood, and began to make calculations.

"I know!" Quirrell exclaimed excitedly. "It's this smallest bottle that will allow me to pass through the black flames and get the Philosopher's Stone."

Without hesitation, he picked up the unassuming little bottle, tilted his head back, and took a sip.

"Vomit..."

Quirrell had initially thought there wouldn't be anything more, but this was something even harder to accept than facing dozens of Biting Cabbage.

But now he realizes he was wrong.

The moment his lips touched the Potions, a nauseating taste flooded his mouth, as if three hundred Troll were dancing inside.

Even greenhouse compost tastes sweeter than this stuff.

The mental torment made Quirrell's face even uglier; he took only one sip and threw the Potions back onto the table.

"Damn Snape!"

Quirrell, clutching his stomach with one hand and his mouth with the other, staggered through the black flames.

"Just wait... Once I get the Philosopher's Stone and resurrect the Dark Lord, both Sprout and Snape will die!"

Quirrell roared inwardly as he entered the last room.

But to his horror, he discovered that there was already someone inside... neither Snape nor Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter!"

Quirrell was stunned and breathless.

"It's me, Professor."

The "Harry" in the room turned around and said in a slightly panicked tone, "I was just worried that I might run into the professor here, and then you showed up..."

"Wait, Professor Quirrell, how did you get so badly injured? Don't worry, I'll take you to the Hospital Wing right away."

As he spoke, he walked towards Quirrell.

"Don't move!" Quirrell drew his wand and roared, "Now, give me the Philosopher's Stone!"

Quirrell felt his mind was a mess, a complete mess.

He had imagined countless scenarios beforehand... such as how to fight Snape, or how to beg for mercy when facing Dumbledore.

But Quirrell never expected that Harry Potter would arrive before him, and judging from his appearance, he seemed to have been waiting there for quite some time.

How did this the Boy Who Lived, manage to get through those Biting Cabbage?!

"The Philosopher's Stone? What nonsense are you spouting!"

"Harry" asked doubtfully, "Isn't this mirror the final reward here?"

Professor, you absolutely have to see this! This mirror is truly amazing! I saw myself shaking hands with Dumbledore and becoming the Minister for Magic.

I bet it can predict the future!

Quirrell glanced at the Mirror of Erised with a hint of disbelief.

He wanted to go and see, but he had only taken five steps when he heard a shrill voice.

"He's lying... he's lying..."

"Harry Potter, don't move!" Quirrell immediately raised his wand and shouted, "My patience is limited, hand over the Philosopher's Stone!"

That shrill voice spoke again.

"Idiot, haven't you realized yet? He's not Harry Potter!"

"Not Harry Potter?" Quirrell looked the other person over more closely.

Messy hair, a scar on his forehead, and those round-framed glasses... that's definitely Harry Potter.

"Let me talk to him... face to face..."

"Master, you've already wasted a lot of energy on the Biting Cabbage, you need to rest now!"

"Thanks to your help... I still have the strength..."

"It is my honor, Master!"

Quirrell bent over, reached up and untied the scarf haphazardly wrapped around his head, then slowly turned around, revealing the hideous and terrifying face on the back of his head.

The face was as white as chalk, with bright red eyes that shone, and below them were two thin, elongated nostrils, making it look like a snake.

"You don't seem surprised at all..." he whispered.

"Quirrell couldn't have come alone to steal the Philosopher's Stone; he wouldn't have the guts."

"Harry" said calmly, "I just didn't expect you to appear in this way... Mr. Voldemort."

"You know me..." Voldemort seemed somewhat surprised.

"That's obvious, isn't it?"

"By the way, how did you figure out I wasn't Harry Potter? I think my costume was pretty accurate."

"Clothes..." Voldemort said in a hoarse voice, "Harry Potter doesn't wear the Slytherin badge!"

"It's a pity... but there's nothing I can do about it. I would never wear that stupid lion badge."

Kyle took off his glasses and tossed them aside. After bouncing a few times on the ground, the glasses transformed back into a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

Dean Sacia gave him many Potions, including a large bottle of Polyjuice Potion.

Getting Harry's hair wouldn't be difficult, or rather, it would be very easy. If Kyle wanted to, he could easily trick Harry out of everything.

There's just no need for it.

"Who are you...?" Voldemort asked with interest. "Malfoy... Nott... or Selwyn...?"

"Stop guessing, Mr. Voldemort," Kyle said, shrugging. "Since I used Polyjuice Potion, I certainly don't want anyone to know who it was."

"Courageous, cunning... and very clear-headed. It seems Slytherin has produced another excellent young wizard."

Voldemort's interest grew even stronger. He looked at Kyle and said in an extremely seductive voice, "You are far superior to that piece of trash Quirrell... Come and follow me, help me obtain the Philosopher's Stone... I will bestow upon you unimaginable power and wealth!"

"Master..." Quirrell stammered, sounding aggrieved, "I am your most loyal servant."

He was the one who arrived first, whether in the Albania forest or in those perilous Kari just now...

The person who has been helping the Dark Lord is him, not this person in front of him whose name he doesn't even know.