Voldemort, a Rat in the Streets

"Let's go!" Lester led the way into the next room, with Malfoy and Neville following closely behind.

The first few challenges were like children's toys set up by the Hogwarts professors for Harry, but the last challenge was the most crucial.

Because Harry is about to face the greatest enemy of his life: Voldemort!

"Neville, when you go inside, you might see a strange guy shrouded in black mist. Don't hesitate, just make up some awesome spell and take him down!"

Neville nodded seriously. Lester was now his older brother; he would do whatever Lester told him to do.

In the last large room, Professor Quirrell also revealed his true colors.

"Quirrell?! How could it be you?! Where's Snape?!" Harry couldn't believe his eyes. The one who wanted to throw the Philosopher's Stone was none other than the villain of the Wizarding World, Ron Weasley's beloved teacher, Professor Quirrell!

"Why me?!" Quirrell chuckled sinisterly. "Harry Potter, why can't it be me? If it weren't for your idiot classmate bringing in the Auror, I probably would have succeeded already!"

Just thinking about his experience in the Forbidden Forest that night made Quirrell feel incredibly frustrated. He was chased and beaten by a group of ruthless lunatics, which completely depleted his already limited magical power.

Harry's eyes widened, and he took several steps back. "You are... you are that vampire monster who bewitched Centaur?!"

"A vampire monster that bewitches Centaur?" Quirrell's expression froze, somewhat bewildered. When did he bewitch Centaur?

But now is not the time to ask questions; the task assigned by the master is the most crucial.

"Enough with the nonsense!" Quirrell snapped, waving Harry wand at Harry and casting a silent Disarming Charm.

Harry's frail body was immediately sent flying, crashing heavily into the wall. Before he could even feel the pain, Harry quickly turned and ran.

The Philosopher's Stone was in his pocket; he had to take Philosopher's Stone with him.

Watching Harry run away, Quirrell scoffed and waved his wand. "Incendio!"

In an instant, a burst of flame shot out from Quirrell's wand, quickly forming a ring of fire that enveloped him and Harry.

The raging flames scorched the air, crackling and popping, and Harry's heart sank to the bottom.

"Potter, hand over the Philosopher's Stone!" Quirrell strode toward Harry, pressing his wand firmly against Harry's temple.

Harry gritted his teeth and roared, "I didn't! I don't know what you're talking about!"

Suddenly, Harry felt as if his head was about to explode, and a chilling voice came from the back of Quirrell's head.

"Quirrell, he's lying! The Philosopher's Stone is in his pocket!"

The voice was like a devil's whisper, and the words made Harry's face turn pale, and he gripped his pocket tightly.

"Yes, Master!" Quirrell wore a smug smile, but his eyes were icy cold. "Potter, well then, goodbye!"

A green light appeared on Quirrell's wand, and the oppressive aura of death made Harry feel suffocated.

"Avada..."

"The Heaven-Splitting Strike!"

Boom!

A tremendous roar echoed throughout the fourth floor, startling even the young wizards watching the show in the hall.

A massive Fiendfyre Great Axe shot out from Neville's wand and charged fiercely toward Quirrell.

"Holy crap?!" Quirrell was shocked and had no time to react before being sent flying.

The wand and clothes in his hand were instantly incinerated into thin air the moment they came into contact with the Fiendfyre Great Axe.

That wasn't the end of it. After Quirrell was knocked away, Fiendfyre erupted behind him, continuously eroding his body.

"Ah!!!"

"Ah!!!"

Two screams emanated from Quirrell's body simultaneously, sending chills down everyone's spines.

"Neville, it's you?!" Harry turned around and saw Neville striding confidently toward Quirrell.

"Professor Quirrell, you've really disappointed me!" Neville said calmly, with an air of invincible strength.

Quirrell painfully raised his head, staring at Neville in disbelief. "You're Neville Longbottom?"

"Impossible, impossible!"

Quirrell's voice gradually turned cold, and the surrounding air also became frigid.

"Neville Longbottom, Neville Longbottom, the Prophecy child, ha ha ha ha." Quirrell, or rather Voldemort, spoke in an incredibly hoarse voice, filled with resentment towards his fate.

"The Chosen One, it was you all along, Longbottom! You've been hiding this for a long time!"

Neville was completely bewildered. He had no idea what Quirrell was talking about. The Chosen One? Wasn't that Harry Potter? What did it have to do with Neville?

"Wait for me, Longbottom, Potter, I will be back!"

Voldemort's eyes flashed with boundless killing intent as he glared fiercely at Neville, seemingly trying to memorize his appearance.

Neville felt a chill run down his spine from being stared at; it was terrifying, even more terrifying than Professor Snape.

Then, Voldemort waved his hand, turning into a cloud of black mist and fleeing the scene.

"Longbottom, Potter, and that damn Mudblood, and oh yeah, Malfoy too, you just wait, I'll get my revenge on you!"

Voldemort was filled with immense resentment. He was just a hair's breadth away from making a comeback and reigning supreme in the Wizarding World.

It's all those damned brats' fault.

Thinking this, Voldemort quickly dug out a tunnel, wanting to leave Hogwarts, but to his utter surprise, as soon as he ran out of the Trapdoor, he saw nearly a thousand young wizards waiting outside in a tense standoff.

Voldemort: "..."

Everything that happened below was broadcast live.

When the young wizards on the fourth floor saw Quirrell being driven away by Neville, they spontaneously blocked the doorway to stop the monster.

"Children, make way! It's me, we are..." Voldemort said anxiously to the Slytherin students.

For some reason, most of the students standing at the front were Slytherin. Voldemort considered himself to have some standing in Slytherin, so he decided to announce his name.

Unexpectedly, before Voldemort could finish speaking, several Disarming Charm came flying at him. If Voldemort hadn't dodged quickly, he would have been sent flying.

"Damn it, kill him! How dare he mess with Brother Lai!"

"Kill him, Avada!... Pah, Disarming Charm...

Voldemort: "..."

When did Slytherin become so crazy? Wasn't this house full of old silver coins before?

Why do I keep using curses on myself all the time?!

Seeing the curse coming at him, Voldemort panicked and fled frantically like a rat in the street.

The young wizards behind him were also in high spirits, chasing after Voldemort and beating him.