The Dark Lord's Backup Plan

Suppressing his nausea, he finally finished the "unusual"-tasting Potions, not a single drop left.

"Have you found out who did it?" the shrill voice rang out again.

Burned by a wizard, slapped in the face with clothes, and then washed with cold water... the great Dark Lord had never suffered such humiliation.

Even being turned into this state by the backlash of his own Avada Kedavra wasn't this humiliating!

"Master... no..." Quirrell trembled, his voice trembling with tears, "Could it be that Dumbledore has found you?"

"Don't be silly, Dumbledore thinks I'm hiding in the Albanian Forest," the face said menacingly.

"He would never have imagined that I was actually operating right under his nose!"

"Of course, he must have noticed you're the one with the problem. I never underestimate Dumbledore." The face chuckled.

"But he is confident; he and I are the same kind of people who believe we can control everything."

Quirrell, Dumbledore won't rush to arrest you. Instead, he'll try his best to find out who you're working for and who wants the Philosopher's Stone.

His confidence is precisely our opportunity.

"But I felt Snape was looking at me with such hostility," Quirrell sobbed. "Isn't he your servant too? Why... why not let him help?"

"Snape..." The face narrowed its eyes, the red light flashing coldly.

"Quirrell, look at what I have left now, just a weak, lonely soul... Snape?"

"Not only him, but also my 'loyal' servants, who may now be loyal to others."

"Perhaps it's that Mudblood and Muggle protector, Albus Dumbledore."

"I don't know who else I can trust, otherwise why wouldn't they dare to seek me out and help me regain my strength?"

"But Master... my power is too weak. After Gringotts, my body almost collapsed." Quirrell choked up.

"I can't even kill Harry Potter, I can't even handle Cerberus, you should seek Snape's help..."

"I think you're tired of this job of serving me, aren't you, Quirrell?" A cold aura permeated the office.

"Are you trying to get me to contact Snape so you can expose me and claim credit from Dumbledore?"

"Master! I didn't, I was just... scared..."

"Don't lie to me!" the man said in a hoarse voice.

"I know everything, Quirrell! You regret it, you regret going to the Albania forest."

Quirrell trembled, and the voice on that face suddenly softened.

He comforted him in a whisper-like voice, "Do not be afraid, my faithful servant."

With me here, nothing will happen!

If you get your hands on the Philosopher's Stone, I can create a new body and be resurrected.

Dark Lord, never to be forgotten!

He will not forget the good servant who helped him in his time of need.

eternal life,

How about this reward? I can do it easily.

Voldemort's words were filled with magic, and Quirrell's face revealed a sinister desire.

Voldemort was extremely satisfied; manipulating people's minds was so easy.

"That's it. Go get some more Unicorn Blood, that way I'll have the strength to better protect you."

Quirrell chuckled sheepishly, "Yes, Master, I've located the Unicorn."

"Very good, how are the herbs I ordered?"

"We've collected most of it; I think Sprout has already found it..."

"No, she'll just think it was some Magical Creatures that caused the damage." Voldemort smiled.

"I'm quite skilled at this; I've done this with herbs decades ago, Hagrid... I never expected that after all these years, you'd still be covering for me..."

The mention of Hagrid filled Quirrell with fear again; he remembered the terrifying three-headed dog.

"It's alright." Voldemort seemed to know what Quirrell was thinking, and he comforted him.

"Hagrid's little pet is easy to handle. I didn't expect my junior to be so adorable... It's a great interest; we'll get some information from him about how to deal with Cerberus."

Quirrell nodded.

"One last thing, fetch me something." Voldemort's voice was filled with reminiscence, as if he had thought of something interesting.

"That's a contingency plan I left at Hogwarts many years ago; it will strengthen our power."

Quirrell's expression turned fanatical; his master remained as powerful as ever.

But Voldemort smiled contemptuously. He had already planned to abandon Quirrell. If Quirrell failed, that thing... was his backup plan.

The Philosopher's Stone... he was determined to have it!

In the morning, Quirrell changed into a new robe, new garlic, and a new scarf, and pretended to be seriously injured, staggering into the Great Hall.

As soon as he entered the Great Hall, several students from different colleges put down their breakfasts and quietly observed him.

Quirrell was completely baffled. Was it because his brand-new three-piece luxury suit was so trendy that it was attracting everyone's attention?

Quirrell adjusted the collar of his robe, looking weak and listless, and slowly sat down in his seat.

Professor Dumbledore, peering through his Half-moon Spectacles, asked gently, "Professor Quirrell, how serious are your burns?"

"Principal... it doesn't hurt as much anymore!" Quirrell stammered.

"You should go see Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore concern. "I know you've traveled the world and are very knowledgeable, but she's a professional."

"No... no need..." Quirrell quickly waved his hand, "I can't... disrupt the students' classes."

"Professor Quirrell is truly dedicated." A faint smile flickered across Snape's sallow face.

"I also suffered burns last year, but your burns are more severe than mine, and they're even harder to heal in winter."

How about this, I'll brew you some Potions... for both external and internal use. This way, it won't interfere with the teaching schedule, and it can also heal your injuries."

Quirrell pondered for a moment. He was certain he hadn't been exposed, so the other party probably wouldn't have poisoned him. As for the taste... could it possibly be worse than the Potions Madam Pomfrey gave him?

"Well... thank you... Professor Snape." Quirrell quickly expressed his gratitude.

"How is Sybill?" Dumbledore asked again.

"She only broke a crystal ball, nothing else is seriously injured," Professor McGonagall said unhappily. "However, she's demanding a raise because of her workplace injury!"

"A perfectly reasonable request," Dumbledore gentle smile. "She has served this school for eleven years and is still receiving the same salary she started with."

"That says a lot," Professor McGonagall said sarcastically.

"Furthermore, if Sybill were truly capable, she would surely have figured out that she shouldn't have gone to watch Quidditch."

Professor McGonagall disliked Professor Trelawney, but she didn't have much of an opinion about the pay raise.

After all, besides Trelawney, who else would rely on a professor's fixed salary?

(Third update, please recommend)

Hmm, one more chapter is still owed.