v2 Chapter 65： Back of the Dark Lord

Resisting nausea, the "special" flavored potion was finally drank, and not a drop was left.

"Have you found out who did it?" The sharp voice sounded again.

Burned by wizards, slapped in the face with clothes, washed with cold water... The great Dark Lord has never suffered such humiliation.

Even if it is turned into this appearance by the rebound of his own Avada, it is not so humiliating!

"Master... no..." Quirrell trembled and cried, "Could it be that Dumbledore found you?"

"Don't be stupid, Dumbledore thought I was hiding in the Albanian forest." The face said viciously.

"He would never have thought that I was actually acting under his nose!"

"Of course he must have noticed something wrong with you, and I would never underestimate Dumbledore." The face chuckled.

"But he's confident, he's the same guy as me who thinks he's in control.

Quirrell, Dumbledore won't rush to catch you, but will try to figure out who you are working for and who is trying to get the Philosopher's Stone.

His confidence is our opportunity. "

"However, I feel that Snape looked at me with wickedness." Quirrell sobbed. "Isn't he also your servant? Why...don't let him help."

"Snape..." The face squinted, the red light glistening coldly.

"Quirro, look what I have left now, only a weak and lonely soul... Snape?"

"Not just him, but my 'faithful' servants, who may have given their allegiance to others by now.

Maybe the protector of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore. "

"I don't know who else can be trusted, otherwise why would they dare not look for me to help me regain my strength?"

"But Master... my strength is too weak, after Gringotts, my body almost collapsed." Quirrell choked.

"I can't even kill Harry Potter, I can't even deal with a three-headed dog, you should seek Snape's help..."

"I think this job of serving me is boring you, isn't it, Quirrell?" A cold breath roamed the office.

"Are you trying to get me to contact Snape, are you trying to expose me so I can get credit from Dumbledore?"

"Master! I don't, I'm just… scared…"

"Don't lie to me!" the man croaked.

"I know everything, Quirrell! You're regretting going to the Albanian forest."

Quirrell shivered, and the face's voice suddenly softened.

He whispered comfortingly, "Don't be afraid, my faithful servant.

With me there, nothing will happen!

As long as you get the Philosopher's Stone, I can create a new body and be resurrected again.

The Dark Lord, never forget!

He will not forget to help his good servant in times of crisis.

eternal life,

How about this reward? I can do it easily. "

Voldemort's words were full of magic, and Quirrell's face showed a ferocious longing.

Voldemort was very satisfied, it was so easy to manipulate people's hearts.

"That's it, go get some unicorn blood, so that I have the strength to protect you better."

Quirrell smirked and said, "Yes Master, I have figured out the location of the unicorn."

"Very well, how's the herb I want?"

"Have collected most of it, I think Sprout has found it..."

"No, she just thought it was the destruction caused by some magical creature." Voldemort smiled.

"I'm very good at this. I took herbs like this decades ago, Hagrid... I didn't expect you to help me cover after all these years..."

The mention of Hagrid made Quirrell dread again, thinking of the terrifying three-headed dog.

"It doesn't matter." Voldemort seemed to know what Quirrell was thinking, and he comforted:

"Hagrid's pet is easy to deal with. I didn't expect my little brother to be so cute... He's very interested. We'll get a word from him and know how to deal with the three-headed dog."

Quirrell nodded.

"One last thing, get me something." Voldemort's voice was full of memories, as if he had thought of something interesting.

"That was me many years ago. Staying behind at Hogwarts will make us stronger."

Quirrell showed a frenzied expression, but the master was as strong as ever.

But Voldemort showed a contemptuous smile. He was ready to abandon Quirrell. Once Quirrell failed, that thing... would be the next step.

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

…

…

In the morning, Quirrell put on new robes, new garlic, and new scarves, pretended to be seriously injured, and walked into the auditorium tremblingly.

As soon as he entered the auditorium, several college students put down their breakfasts and quietly observed him.

Quirrell was puzzled. Could it be that his brand new three-piece luxury suit was so trendy that it attracted everyone's attention?

Quirrell tucked the collar of his robe, looking like he had a kidney deficiency, and slowly sat down in his seat.

Professor Dumbledore said gently through the half-moon glasses, "Professor Quirrell, are your burns still serious?"

"Headmaster...it doesn't hurt that much anymore!" Quirrell stammered. UU reading

"You should have gone to Madam Pomfrey's place." Dumbledore cared. "I know you've traveled the world and learned a lot, but she's a professional."

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

"Professor Quirrell is still attentive." A smile flashed across Snape's sallow face.

"I also suffered burns last year, your burns are worse than mine, and it's even harder to heal in winter.

Why don't you do it like this, I'll boil some potions for you... external application and internal use, so as not to delay the teaching progress, but also to heal the injury. "

Quirrell pondered for a moment. He must not have exposed it, so the other party should not have poisoned it. As for the taste... can it be worse than the potion given by Madam Pomfrey?

"Then...thank...Professor Snape." Quirrell quickly thanked.

"How is Sybil?" Dumbledore asked again.

"She just broke a crystal ball, and the rest is fine." Professor McGonagall said unhappily: "But she asked for a raise because of her work injury!"

"A reasonable request." Dumbledore smiled gently: "She has served this school for eleven years, and she still gets her original salary."

"That says a lot," said Professor McGonagall bitterly. ?

"And, if Sybil is really capable, she will definitely figure out that she shouldn't go to Quidditch."

Professor McGonagall didn't like Professor Trelawney very much, but she didn't have much opinion on the salary increase.

After all, other than Trelawney, who would rely on the professor's dead salary?

…

…

(The third is for a recommendation.

Well, I still owe one more. )