Voldemort's Two Faces

Luo Bin saw Harry's pocket suddenly bulge. He immediately began cursing Quirrell as a useless fool, drawing Quirrell's attention to cover for Harry.

"Robin Sear, you really are insufferable!"

Quirrell snarled and snapped his fingers again. The ropes binding Luo Bin tightened, nearly choking him. Instead of getting angry, Luo Bin laughed. He needed the ropes pulled taut.

Behind him, Xiao Ying had slipped into place with a Small Green Saw and was working away at the hemp rope.

Why didn't Luo Bin struggle and trigger the Tightening Magic Rope?

Because he had been perfectly still until now. If he suddenly started moving, Quirrell would suspect something.

Meanwhile, Quirrell saw through Harry's lie about the House Cup, inspired by Ron. Furious, he shoved Harry aside. After a bizarre exchange with himself, he turned his back on Harry and unwrapped his turban, revealing the master lodged in the back of his head—Voldemort!

That face was a hundred times more hideous than Quirrell's blood-streaked one.

It was as white as saltpeter, as white as chalk. Its red eyes were vicious and sinister, like those of a terrifying Halloween jack-o'-lantern. Its nose was barely there, like a snake's, and its lips were an eerie blood-red.

No, they didn't just look blood-red. He had drunk blood—Unicorn Blood!

"Harry Potter!"

The voice was low and hoarse, as though whispering in Harry's ear. Harry wanted to back away, but even though Quirrell had untied him, his legs refused to obey.

"In our last battle, I lost so much. I was left as nothing but vapor and shadow. Yet there are always people willing to grovel at my feet and beg to serve me, offering up their bodies and minds for my use."

"Unicorn Blood can keep me alive, but it can't restore my magic or strength,