At the top of the Ancient City of Saen.
"Boom—!"
Sharp dragon claws, infused with tremendous power, slammed into the tower like cannonballs, instantly sending dirt and rocks flying as large sections of the wall and floor cracked and crumbled.
"Roar!!!"
A torrent of fiery breath poured down next, scorching the massive stones black and even slightly carbonizing their surfaces.
The air itself twisted from the heat, intense enough to sear human skin.
"Huff, huff, huff…"
Quirrell tumbled down the stone steps like a rolling ball, slamming into the wall with a thud, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
He was charred black, his turban burned away, revealing the ugly, noseless face hidden beneath it.
Under the dragon's flames, all were equal.
Even though Lord Voldemort had once been so exalted and powerful, he was now singed bald.
With patches of skin peeling off, Lord Voldemort shrieked in agony and cursed Quirrell's incompetence.
"You useless trash! You can't do anything right! How can I trust you and grant you the power you deserve?!"
Even in a moment like this, Lord Voldemort didn't forget to manipulate him emotionally.
Poor Quirrell couldn't even speak coherently, trembling all over like a fool.
He couldn't understand how things had ended up this way.
He had successfully uncovered Fluffy's weakness—the Cerberus—and the journey had been incredibly smooth, just as he'd anticipated.
Even if that meddlesome Snape suspected him, what could he do about it?
By the time Snape caught up, Quirrell would have already secured the Philosopher's Stone and helped his great master resurrect.
Then, he would become the supreme being, second only to one and above all others!
It should have gone like that.
Until he encountered a drawn door.
No.
It should be said that it started even earlier, from the moment he began interacting with that ominous boy...
"Ngh!"
A sharp pain jolted through his brain, snapping Quirrell back to reality.
"Go find the antidote! You're going to be poisoned to death, you idiot!"
Only then did Quirrell sluggishly realize that the wounds on his body, inflicted by the dragon's claws, were rapidly swelling and turning an unsightly green.
The teeth and claws of a Norwegian Ridgeback were venomous.
And his current feverish, delirious state was partly due to the poison turning him into an idiot.
Quirrell struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.
He could hear the massive dragon roaring at the top of the tower, and the building beneath him trembled like an earthquake with every movement the beast made.
But where could he run?
When would this torment end?
Just then.
Quirrell suddenly spotted a platform he had never seen or reached before, protruding from the outer wall of the tower.
Guided by an intuition about the designer of this ancient city, Quirrell scrambled toward it.
And just before the dragon's flames could engulf him, he flipped onto the platform below in the nick of time.
"Bang!"
Quirrell hit the ground heavily, like a sack of potatoes.
He looked up.
What met his eyes was another drawn door.
Instinctively, Quirrell realized this was the exit from the ancient city.
An exit positioned on the outer perimeter of the entire structure, one that could be reached directly by flying up from outside.
There was no need to endure the agony of those three hundred and sixty miles of road.
"Haha, haha... Hahahahaha!"
Quirrell laughed like a madman, his shoulders shaking, veins bulging like earthworms.
That son of a bitch. He would definitely cut that designer into a thousand pieces. Torment him with the Cruciatus Curse every single moment.
Quirrell's eyes gleamed like poisoned daggers as he stepped forward.
The next second.
He collapsed to the ground with a thud.
The poison had fully erupted.
"No… no!"
Quirrell shrieked in horror, desperately crawling toward the door.
He had come this far; how could he die right before the exit?!
Then he would surely become a vengeful spirit, forever wandering this place, unable to find peace.
But.
At this point, where could he find an antidote? A line of advice suddenly appeared:
"Congratulations! Brave challenger, you have reached the final checkpoint!"
Quirrell: ?
He suddenly had an extremely ominous premonition!
"I believe most challengers who reach this checkpoint are already deeply poisoned."
"But don't worry! Your thoughtful host has specially prepared an antidote to help you overcome this challenge."
"Please answer the question:"
"You have two stones in front of you."
"One is a bezoar, extracted from a goat's stomach, which can detoxify most poisons."
"The other is literally a 'dung stone'."
"Please use your experience and eat the correct one!"
"P.S. If you haven't been poisoned by this point, then congratulations, you can take home a bezoar worth 13 Galleons!"
Quirrell stared at the two dark brown stones behind the advice, which looked almost identical from the outside.
Finally, he couldn't help but shed two lines of clear tears.
Damn, damn, damn!!!
With his vision and consciousness blurring, how could he possibly distinguish which one was the real bezoar?!!
Had the designer been eating mushrooms?!
What kind of childhood experiences could lead someone to conceive such an epic ordeal?!!!
"...Wait! Idiot! What are you doing?!"
"Put that down, let me identify it—no—Hmph ah ah ah ah!!!"
One bezoar, tormenting two "people."
It could be said to be extremely cost-effective.
Quirrell, who had tasted all the sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, and foul flavors of life within a short five minutes, felt as if he had achieved enlightenment.
He wiped his mouth and climbed to his feet with a remarkably peaceful state of mind.
He smoothly pushed open the drawn door in front of him.
He would get the Philosopher's Stone soon.
Now, no matter what lay behind the door, he wouldn't be surprised anymore.
Quirrell thought so, a golden glow faintly emanating from his round face—or perhaps it was the light reflected by the dragon's flames.
Quirrell stepped through the door, leaving this Ancient City of Saen—which deserved to be recorded in history—and entered the final room.
There was already someone in there—not Harry, nor even Dumbledore.
It was Ethan Vincent.
That terrifying figure, whom Quirrell had longed for, yearned for, and dreamt of, stood before a magnificent mirror.
Hearing the movement, he slowly turned around.
"Congratulations, Professor Quirrell."
Ethan curved his lips into a smile.
His cobalt blue eyes watched him cleanly and purely, full of amusement.
"It seems you passed the checkpoint I designed. How do you feel? Was the final bezoar the finishing touch?"
With a buzz.
Quirrell felt like he couldn't hear anything.
All enlightenment, all peace, instantly vaporized.
In his mind, there was only one word—
"Avada Kedavra!"
With a bang, a dazzling green light shot out from Quirrell's wand tip, more powerful than any spell he had cast before.
No technique, just pure emotion.
"Whoosh!"
This deadly curse was deflected aside by Ethan's prepared portal.
"It seems you're very excited. Is it that much fun? I'm almost embarrassed~"
"Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra!!!"
One green light after another shot out.
Quirrell's face was twisted in rage, his eyes bloodshot, his eyeballs bulging with fury!
I will cut you into tiny pieces!
Ethan raised an eyebrow and murmured:
"A bit noisy."
Ethan merely waved his wand lightly.
Quirrell was suddenly lifted as if by an invisible giant hand!
He crashed against the wall with a bang, bounced back, rolled twice on the ground, and twitched.
It was quiet.
"Hmph," Ethan let out a breath and smiled brightly, "That's more polite."
Ethan walked over and nudged Quirrell with his foot, turning him face down.
Looking down at that disgusting noseless monster, he feigned surprise:
"Lord Voldemort? After more than ten years, you've become so weak?"
"******"
Ethan couldn't understand what Lord Voldemort was shrieking.
Perhaps he was saying hello to him.
Ethan thought for a moment, waved his wand, and transformed the scattered pebbles on the ground into ropes, firmly binding Quirrell.
"Actually, I should cut out your tongue so you can't cast spells anymore…."
Amidst Quirrell's horrified whimpers, Ethan whispered to himself:
"However, our protagonist will be here soon, so it's better not to have any uncomfortable scenes."
"After all, the first book is a fairy tale~"
Ethan smiled, leaned down, and struggled to find eyes on the noseless monster's bloody face—unsuccessfully.
So he gave up.
He directly pulled out the leather bag containing all his drawings and said excitedly:
"Before I take you to collect my reward, let's discuss great and wondrous art~!"
"Mmm, mmm—mmm mmm mmm!"
The screams of torment echoed in the unknown, forbidden Chamber of Secrets.
Gryffindor dormitory.
"Ah!"
Harry suddenly woke up from a nightmare.
He shot up, gasping for breath, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
He had dreamt of that green light!
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