Hearing Quirrell's name, a strange look appeared in Char's eyes. In the original book, Quirrell died because he touched Harry, triggering the protective magic on him. Almost none of his own magic was used, and Voldemort also fled in panic. He didn't expect that this time, Quirrell would still be alive. It seemed that the transformation Voldemort had made on him was really strong. But even if he had survived, why did he have to see him?
Thoughts raced through his mind. A moment later, he shook his head at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I don't want to see him."
What good would it do to go see Quirrell? To ridicule and mock a former enemy? Char had no interest in that. And this matter was not without risk. What if Quirrell had learned some magic from Voldemort that could destroy both of them? To die together with him in front of Dumbledore? It wasn't as if there was no precedent for this in the wizarding world. Even Voldemort could fail miserably. Was it not possible for him? Even if the probability was one in ten thousand, he couldn't accept this kind of death. So, the most reasonable approach was, of course, to refuse.
Hearing his answer, Dumbledore wasn't surprised either. This kid in front of him, in the few times he had met him, was indeed calmer and more cautious than his peers. Perhaps that was exactly the point. This was what had enabled him to turn the tide in the Forbidden Forest trial. Dumbledore didn't say anything empty to him at this time. Whether it was out of a desire to get his cooperation in obtaining information from Quirrell, or out of gratitude to him for turning the tide and saving everyone, a sufficiently rich performance was essential. The Patronus Charm he had cast earlier was not strong enough to do this.
Then Dumbledore spoke. "Don't worry. I can swear that he has no ability to cast spells. I will ensure your safety throughout the journey. In addition," he said seriously, his blue eyes looking at Char with sincerity, "I can promise you three things. As long as it doesn't violate my principles, I will try my best to do anything."
Hearing this, Char's eyes flickered slightly. The chips Dumbledore had brought out were undoubtedly full of sincerity. To have this wizard who was closest to the mythical level help him do three things? With Dumbledore's strength and connections in the wizarding world, this promise was incredibly heavy. It might even be possible to pry open an alchemy master of the level of Nicolas Flamel. There were such benefits, plus Dumbledore guaranteed his own safety. Then it was time to meet Quirrell. He nodded slightly.
Dumbledore finally breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly took Char out of the infirmary and walked through the corridor. A moment later, at the top of a staircase, he waved his wand. A strange staircase that Char had never seen before moved over and carried them down to the base of the castle. Noticing his surprised look, Dumbledore explained, "The secrets of Hogwarts Castle are more than just those discovered by you students. Thousands of years ago, the four founders founded Hogwarts in a dark and bloody era. Their original intention was to protect young wizards and leave a spark of hope for the wizarding world. But they were also prepared for a desperate battle if Hogwarts was discovered. Because of this, Hogwarts at that time was more than just a school. It was also a solid war fortress. Although many of the magics prepared for war have disappeared over the past thousand years, some things still remain. Only the true successor to the headmaster of Hogwarts has the authority to know this."
Following Dumbledore's words, the stairs led them down. It had fallen deeper than the underground Potions classroom. The air seemed to become heavy. One could still feel the tense and solemn feeling left over from thousands of years ago. Char was even more shocked by his discovery. On the system panel, the luster of almost all of his magic-related abilities seemed to be suppressed in some way, much dimmer than before.
Dumbledore spoke at the right time. "Don't worry. This is because the place we are going to is the cell that was used to imprison spies who sneaked into Hogwarts a thousand years ago. There, the four founders left behind extremely powerful magic that can prohibit the imprisoned subjects from performing any magic or magic-like abilities. In a sense, even Azkaban is not as impenetrable as this cell at Hogwarts."
Char narrowed his eyes. He wasn't surprised that there were cells in Hogwarts. After all, Filch, the castle caretaker, had confidently mentioned that Hogwarts still had many detention rooms, along with various torture instruments used to punish students. Having an extra impenetrable prison was nothing. It was the content mentioned by Dumbledore that was not found in any textbooks of the history of magic that surprised him. A thousand years ago, would there be spies sneaking into Hogwarts? Using magic, or magic-like abilities? He was a little confused by this.
"Headmaster, when the Big Four established Hogwarts a thousand years ago, wasn't it to protect young wizards from the Muggles who were engaged in witch hunts? The enemy should be Muggles. How were they able to sneak into Hogwarts as spies?"
Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "Of course, the enemies of wizards in the past were not limited to Muggles. If it were just Muggles, though they would be numerous, a Confusion Charm or some other protective magic would be enough to maintain a wizarding colony in a Muggle town. Or something more extreme. If the wizards at that time were forced into a corner, they could easily use methods such as the Imperius Curse to control the Muggle King. That would be enough to create a habitat for wizards. Why go to so much trouble? Even wizards as powerful as the Big Four had to build Hogwarts Castle?"
At this point, Dumbledore's expression turned a little gloomy. "Among the enemies of the wizarding world back then, besides Muggles, there were indeed some wizards who surrendered and betrayed for various reasons. But compared to the Big Four, they are just clowns, not worth mentioning. It seems there is someone else who is the enemy that the four founders feared and the one that the magic world at the time could not contend with in any way. But history has not left any relevant records. Even I have no way of knowing."
Char's heart sank slightly. Before leaving, Ms. Hufflepuff's will was still giving him many instructions. The International Statute of Secrecy must be protected from being overturned. Otherwise, the end of the wizarding world would come. Could it be that the enemies of the magic world from thousands of years ago still existed now? But soon, he didn't dwell on it anymore. He followed Dumbledore, walking through the narrow corridor, which was still dim despite the torches on the walls. They came to a heavy portal made of an unknown metal. A familiar figure just walked out from it. With greasy hair and wearing a black robe, he exuded a gloomy aura. It was Snape.
When he walked out, a strong, pungent smell of potion flowed out from the gap in the door. And in this smell of potion, there was also a chilling stench of decay. It was like there was a living corpse inside. Dumbledore looked at Snape. Snape shook his head. "That person made some changes when he was reforming him. His magic power has indeed increased, but as a price, even if he hadn't suffered such a trauma, he would only have two or three months left to live. That person never really intended to let him live. Even with the potion, he could die at any moment. Ask whatever you want to ask."
Hearing Snape's words, Dumbledore couldn't help but reveal a look of regret on his face. "Quirinus Quirrell... that was a genius with real talent. He should have had a bright future, but unfortunately, he took the wrong path. Even if you gain power by associating with Voldemort, you will suffer a price that ordinary people cannot imagine."
Snape felt as if he had been pricked. His face became even gloomier, and his palms were tense. Dumbledore then realized that he had spoken out of turn. He couldn't help but force out an embarrassed and apologetic expression. Then he hurriedly took Char and walked towards the cell.
As soon as he entered, the scene that came into view made Char's pupils shrink immediately. Tightly bound by metal chains was a monster that was almost as solid as mud. The stench of decay emanated from its entire body. If it weren't for the dense tubes connected to its body, injecting some magic potions to maintain its life, Char had no doubts that in a short while, the monster would be completely dead. The human face on its head was the only thing that could connect it to Quirinus Quirrell.
Now, hearing the noise of Dumbledore and Char entering the cell, Quirrell raised his head with difficulty. At this dying moment, the effects of the Quintaped transformation that Voldemort had left on him seemed to have largely faded. This allowed the most outstanding genius of Ravenclaw in recent years to finally regain some human rationality and wisdom. He looked at Char and spoke softly, "I didn't expect that. Such a carefully laid out plan was ruined by a little wizard like you with such poor talent. You guessed that there was something wrong with me, didn't you?"
Char said nothing about this. He neither admitted nor denied it. There was no showing off or ridicule. He simply stood behind Dumbledore, his expression alert, his wand in hand, seemingly ready to deal with Quirrell's dying counterattack at any time.
Quirrell sighed softly. "What a cautious little one." Immediately, he gave another bitter laugh. "Don't worry, I'm in such a state now because of all these chains. Even if I were still intact, I couldn't even think about using any magic. Not to mention that you have Dumbledore by your side. I'm afraid no one in this wizarding world has the ability to hurt you in front of him."
But no matter what Quirrell said, Char remained unmoved. Dumbledore's eyes lit up with admiration. Then he asked Quirrell with a serious expression, "Quirrell, you wanted to see Char, and now you have. It's time to tell everything you know. Perhaps this can make up for your sins a little."
Quirrell smiled. He was no longer the timid person he once pretended to be. He tried to hold his head high, trying hard to maintain his last bit of pride. "No, I'm not trying to atone for my sins. I simply wanted to prove one thing. Even when facing the Dark Lord, I didn't lose miserably. He can indeed take my life, but I have also discovered his secret."
Immediately, he began to cough violently. Just when Dumbledore was worried that he would cough to death, Quirrell said hoarsely, "His darkness is far beyond your imagination. Dumbledore, I have never seen a soul so shattered. I believe there is only one magic that can destroy a soul to this extent. You must know what it is."
Hearing the information revealed by Quirrell, Dumbledore looked thoughtful. It was like a long-held guess had finally been confirmed. Beside him, Char heard Dumbledore muttering, "Is that really the case? Horcrux. I just don't know how many he made."
For these conversations, even though he already knew what this meant, Char still didn't show any sign of emotion. He didn't even have the slightest interest in getting involved. How to deal with Voldemort was Dumbledore's concern. He was just a first grader and just wanted to plant trees in peace. Let Dumbledore assign the task of destroying the Horcruxes to the Savior. Don't get him involved.
At this time, Quirrell seemed to have lost interest in all this as well. He stopped looking at Dumbledore, instead looking at Char. He asked him, "You told me before that you had read my paper on trolls. Is this true or false? Do you really agree with my guess?" At the same time, his eyes grew brighter. "When I was setting up in the Forbidden Forest, I originally wanted to control some giant trolls, but these guys with thick skin and flesh can be quite difficult to deal with when there are too many of them. But I found that there were no trolls left in the Forbidden Forest. Also, the Forbidden Forest giants left some traces of sacrifice. Does this have anything to do with you?"
Speaking of this, his eyes had taken on an abnormal frenzy. It was like seeing the goal he had always pursued. "You are the Troll Priest. I guessed right, didn't I? Troll priests who can use magic do exist!"
Char remained silent, but a hint of admiration inevitably flashed in his eyes. Quirrell had not guessed the full truth, but it was very close. From these few clues, he had been able to guess that the troll priest was in the Forbidden Forest troll settlement. Quirrell's mind was indeed sharp.
And at this time, it seemed that his guess was verified. This made Quirrell extremely excited. He burst into laughter. "Hahaha! I knew it, I knew it! Those idiots who criticized me, they simply don't have such foresight. I am right!"
Dumbledore shook his head regretfully. "Quirrell, you had the opportunity to verify your discovery, make a splash in the wizarding world, and even leave your own page in the history of magic. But everything was completely ruined because of your missteps. You will be nailed to the pillar of shame, and your infamy will last forever."
Quirrell's laughter gradually became quieter. A self-deprecating look appeared on his face. "It's true. Looking back on my life now, I've messed up a good hand. This year at Hogwarts has been nothing but a clown. The Dark Lord used me as a pawn, a body to be manipulated and played with at will. And the great White Lord is using me as a whetstone, trying to get me to play house with the foolish savior. How many months did I pretend to be a timid stutterer? I can't remember. I've had enough of playing the clown and enduring the stench of garlic every day. It ended up like this—"
He paused, his eyes burning with fire. "I have no regrets." He held his head high. "I am Quirinus Quirrell, the most gifted student Ravenclaw has had in decades. Even if it means falling, even if it means being a wretch, I also want to do something big and make a big splash. I don't want to play the role of a stuttering and cowardly clown in my last moments!"
He laughed heartily and freely, but his breath of life, in this laughter, passed by quickly.
Dumbledore frowned, his voice cold. "Quirrell, you are too proud. It's your pride that has led to your downfall. But you can't die now. You must accept the trial of the Wizengamot and receive your judgment before you can leave this world."
At this, Quirrell raised the corners of his mouth, showing a sarcastic look. He held his head high, looking arrogant. "Judgment? Punishment? Drag this limp body around the Wizengamot, getting pointed at by a bunch of sanctimonious but incompetent rubbish? I can almost see how limp they are, and it makes me sick. In this world, no one has the right to judge me."
Inch by inch, Dumbledore seemed to have noticed something. He quickly waved his wand, trying to stop Quirrell's actions. But it was too late. Unable to use magic, Quirrell could still use this almost rotten piece of meat to struggle one last time. He summoned up his last bit of strength and broke free from the tube that was feeding the potion into him. Then, holding his head high, he suddenly hit the wall beside him. Like a wounded lone eagle, he crashed heavily into the cliff. In an instant, his last bit of life was like a candle in the wind, and it also dissipated.
Witnessing this scene, even Dumbledore was stunned. After a long moment, he sighed. "Why bother?" Then, he remembered something. Char seemed a little dazed. He quickly covered his eyes. "Child, don't look at this. This is not something you should be looking at. Let's go, go back, have a good sleep, and drink a cup of hot tea in the common room. It's all over now."
And at this time, what made Char look dazed was not the bloody and tragic scene in front of him. But it was when Dumbledore's attention was drawn to Quirrell's actions, a faint mental fluctuation surged into his mind. This feeling was exactly the magic that Quirrell had created, the Troll Communion Spell, which he had practiced before. He was ready to use the Great Sealing Technique to expel this mental fluctuation from his mind, but he found that along with this spiritual fluctuation came not a "possession," a mental attack, or a curse, but an unfinished paper.
Quirrell's weak voice rang out. "This is my gift to you. Consider it your reward for helping me verify the troll sacrifice hypothesis. At last—" His voice faded away at high speed. "Careful... that person's enemy."
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