[Chapter Size: 2500 Words.]
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Harry took the practice of magic very seriously, and with meditation helping him to improve his magical power, his level of magic increased rapidly. Even compared to the Forbidden Forest just a short time ago, his magic made considerable progress.
A red light shot instantly and hit Quirrell on the opposite side.
However, Quirrell's reaction and speed were incredibly fast. He dodged by simply leaning to the side and casually said, "Expelliarmus!"
Harry felt as if the wand in his hand was being pulled by a tremendous force, and he could no longer hold onto it. The wand immediately slipped from his hand, and his body was pushed by a powerful force. He was thrown backward and hit the ground hard.
Harry only felt a sharp pain in his chest, abdomen, and back, but he still tried his best to get up.
"Harry, it seems you're not good at duels," Quirrell continued to mock and taunt. "When casting magic, you should hide the movements of your hands, otherwise, they can easily determine the direction and dodge."
Harry said nothing and moved his hand. The wand was back in his hand. The elastic cord between the wand and the wrist protector played a crucial role at that moment.
"Ha, interesting little devices." Professor Quirrell laughed. "But, against absolute power, these little tricks are useless."
"Hey." Harry didn't respond. He rolled on the ground, quickly closing the distance between himself and Quirrell, and gestured with his arms. "Stupefy!"
Compared to the Petrifying Charm, the Stupefying Charm is faster and, since the arm movements are larger, it's harder for the opponent to judge. Harry heard what Quirrell said, but in his haste, he didn't know how to change his approach, so he unconsciously used the magic that seemed easier to conceal the direction.
"You're overestimating yourself." Quirrell smiled disdainfully, waved his wand, and cast a spell Harry had never heard of before. At the same time, he waved his wand, and a black, wave-like blade shot out.
The black blade easily destroyed the red light of Harry in the air, and then, without slowing down, it cut through Harry's right shoulder.
The black wave blade was incredibly sharp and passed through without pause. Harry's right arm, which held the wand, broke and he flew away.
Harry fell to the ground screaming and almost immediately lost consciousness.
But he woke up again in the blink of an eye, opened his eyes, and barely saw Quirrell standing in front of him with a mocking smile on his face. "I told you, against absolute power, little tricks are useless." Saying this, he pointed his wand, and the blood pouring from Harry's shoulder stopped immediately.
"I still need you to help my master obtain the Philosopher's Stone. I can't let you die like this." Quirrell said, and with a flick of his wand, Harry felt his body being pulled up by an invisible force, floating slowly toward the Mirror of Erised.
Quirrell's cold voice sounded in his ears: "Tell me, what did you see?"
The intense pain in Harry's right shoulder left him completely incapable of fighting, and he could only let Quirrell do as he wished. He floated in front of the Mirror of Erised and looked into it while quickly thinking about how to handle the situation.
An adult wizard's abilities were beyond Harry's expectations. His magic had no effect at all against Quirrell.
And in front of him, there was no special image in the Mirror of Erised, only himself floating in the air with a pale face.
"Occlumency!"
As soon as he entered the room, Harry activated the mental blocking technique due to the pain in his forehead. The pain in his shoulder forced him to activate the Occlumency and Mind blocking techniques to their maximum.
By doing so, he was able to isolate himself to some extent, thus alleviating the intense pain affecting him.
"What did you see!" Quirrell shouted.
"I... I saw nothing," Harry said through gritted teeth. This was the truth. After all, the pain had an effect on him. He could barely maintain his mental block, but he couldn't create false illusions. The Mirror of Erised couldn't read his consciousness, so naturally, nothing appeared.
"Occlumency." The unpleasant voice from before sounded again.
"Is it really Occlumency?" Quirrell looked at Harry in surprise and exclaimed.
"Surprisingly, you're only in your first year. Hmm, now I remember trying to spy on your mind the day you entered school. I even went to the train to find a strand of your hair, but it didn't work. I thought it was because of the barrier, but now it seems it has to do with your Occlumency?"
Harry was surprised when he heard that.
The first day of school? He didn't know Occlumency back then. Well, it seems that, that night, he had begun practicing the Mind blocking technique. Mind blocking and Occlumency had similar effects in many ways.
However, someone had tried to spy on his thoughts on the first day. Harry cursed Quirrell's mother in his heart.
"Deactivate the Occlumency!" Quirrell said maliciously after being surprised. At the same time, he pointed his wand at Harry and cast a spell.
Harry had never heard of or seen this spell before, but he immediately recognized its effect.
Cruciatus Curse!
A black magic that can act on both the body and the soul at the same time, one of the three Unforgivable Curses in the current British wizarding world.
The Cruciatus Curse, the Imperius Curse, and the Killing Curse, any of these used on a human being would result in the user being sent to Azkaban, the wizarding prison.
Harry knew of the existence of the Torture Curse, but that was all he knew.
What he didn't expect was that, the first time he came into contact with it, he would feel its power with his body.
Pain, indescribable pain.
However, it was a little different from what Harry had originally thought.
Although this magic caused Harry almost unbearable pain, making it difficult for him to maintain his mental block, his soul seemed unaffected.
This seemed a bit different from the description of the Torture Curse that Harry had read in the book.
But before Harry could think any further, Quirrell strengthened the effect of the Torture Spell even more. Harry could no longer withstand the intense pain in his body, and he couldn't focus. Both his Occlumency and Mental Blocking spells collapsed.
Then, Harry saw the image in the Mirror of Erised begin to change silently.
In the mirror, Harry saw himself inside, smiling at himself outside, it was a bit strange. But Harry didn't have time to care, because the version of himself in the mirror pulled out an irregular-shaped red stone from his pocket, shook it in front of his eyes, and then put it back in his pants pocket.
Harry's heart skipped a beat when he felt his pants become slightly heavier. The touch on his thigh made him feel that there was something extra in his pocket.
"What do you see?" Quirrell reprimanded.
"I... I won the Quidditch Cup and... the House Cup... I... I'm the President of the Student Council," Harry said weakly, but no real words came out of his mouth.
That was the scene Ron saw at that moment. Harry didn't have time to think of anything else, so he simply took it and used it.
"Get out of here." This response clearly didn't satisfy Quirrell. He waved his wand, and Harry was thrown out, falling to the ground once again. Quirrell once more stood in front of the Mirror of Erised, trying to see something through it.
Harry lay on the ground, breathing heavily. The effect of the Torture Curse had passed, and the wound on his shoulder seemed numb due to the pain. But this had also drained most of his physical energy.
However, Harry's eyes were still fixed on the broken arm and the wand not far away.
Still, Occlumency and Mind blocking had been defeated by the Torture Spell just now. Although the physical pain was much less than before, it was difficult to concentrate for a while, and even thinking had become extremely hard.
And at that exact moment.
"He's lying!" the same voice from before sounded again.
…
When Quirrell revealed the ugly face at the back of his head, Harry's forehead felt an unprecedented pain. Inexplicably, he could sense that, deep in his soul, in that white room, the little monster under the table seemed to be howling with excitement, trying to escape from beneath the table.
However, the invisible barrier under the table was still active, trapping it inside.
Voldemort!
The face on the back of Quirrell's head belonged to Voldemort. It was also him who attacked the unicorn and sucked its blood in the Forbidden Forest.
The little monster in the white room that stirs in response to his presence.
Harry suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
Voldemort looked at Harry, and with just one glance, Harry felt as if all his thoughts were about to unravel.
Telepathy!
Although Harry hadn't found the spell or method for practicing Legilimency in the mind occupation pamphlet, he could feel what being Legilimensed felt like.
Memories spread in the mind, close to far, and this was the other person looking through their own memories.
In the blink of an eye, his memory returned to the scene of the red gem, the Philosopher's Stone, falling into his pocket. Then, the feeling faded away.
"In his pocket." Voldemort's voice echoed again, still giving off a cruel, sinister feeling. But Harry felt that, at this moment, he seemed much weaker than before.
"Master, your strength still hasn't recovered. Such consumption is very dangerous." Quirrell exclaimed.
"Shut up and get the Philosopher's Stone. It's in his pocket." Voldemort shouted angrily, and Harry once again felt his weakness.
"Yes... yes, Master." Quirrell quickly jumped to Harry's side and reached out to touch his pant pocket.
Harry could barely move his body and could only stretch out his remaining left hand to stop him.
"Ah!" A scream, it was Quirrell.
"Silvo!" A sigh, it was Harry.
The moment Harry's hand touched Quirrell's, he felt the little monster in the white room grow more excited and restless. As a result, his forehead began to hurt even more.
But Quirrell seemed to be in more pain, even worse than Harry. He screamed and staggered backward, even falling to the ground after stepping on his own cloak.
Harry saw blood-red blisters forming on his palms.
The blisters quickly inflated, then burst, causing Quirrell's entire hand to rapidly become infected.
Harry's mind stirred, and he focused all his energy to reopen the techniques of Occlumency and Mind blocking. This allowed him to compress the impact of the physical pain on his consciousness to the limit. He wanted to regain control of his body.
"Use magic, you idiot," Voldemort weakly reprimanded.
Quirrell followed Voldemort's instructions and tried to grab his wand. But his right hand was completely rotten, and he couldn't hold the wand. When he tried to use his left hand, the intense pain slowed him down.
At that moment, Harry managed to regain control of his body. His full strength exploded instantly, and he collided with Quirrell.
Quirrell, who had been sitting on the floor, was knocked over by Harry. Voldemort's ugly face hit the ground with a dull thud.
Harry didn't care about anything else and extended his left hand, pressing it firmly against Quirrell's face.
He didn't know if what had happened to Quirrell would happen again, but he had no other choice. Quirrell couldn't use his left hand to wield a wand, just like Harry.
Luck seemed to be on Harry's side, and the same thing happened again, his entire face began to fester.
Quirrell let out an extremely miserable howl, and Harry felt the pain in his forehead intensify. But Harry still refused to release him, holding Quirrell tightly, thinking that the pain would make his Occlumency and Mind blocking spells ineffective again.
This time, the pain was much more intense than before. Harry, already extremely weak, could no longer bear it. His body's protective mechanism was triggered, his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.
Before completely losing consciousness, he heard Quirrell's screams and Voldemort's furious roars.
He didn't know if it was an illusion, but a moment before closing his eyes, he seemed to see a flash of fire.
…
A flash of fire illuminated the room.
A large bird flew into the room through the flames, and then, with a bang, the flames shot suddenly into the sky. A wizard wearing a purple wizard's robe, a pointed hat on his head, with white hair and a white beard appeared in the room, it was the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.
Quirrell's body was still collapsed, and he was barely recognizable as human. Something like smoke and mist slowly emerged from his body and condensed into a huge, hideous face, the face of Voldemort.
"Dumbledore, you little bastard are well-trained." Voldemort's ugly face glared at Dumbledore fiercely, his tone full of resentment.
"Tom, there's no need for such tricks. I think your current state is quite complicated." Dumbledore said with a light smile, unfazed by Voldemort's attitude. "As for Harry, I think you're right about that. He's a very good boy. Better than I expected. His talent is no worse than yours, and most importantly, he has a good heart."
"Hey, but Dumbledore, do you feel that? He seems to be on the same path as you and me. If what happened back then happens again, what will you do?" Voldemort grinned sinisterly.
"Is it because you're too weak? Is this the only trick you can manage now?" Dumbledore still appeared completely unconcerned. "This isn't like you. You were much better than this before. However, considering it's just a residual shadow, I suppose I shouldn't expect much from it..."
Almost as soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, the huge face in front of him disappeared without a trace.
As for Dumbledore, he had no intention of drawing his wand from the start, nor did he show any defensive posture.
Seeing the shadow vanish, he simply shook his head and said, "If you want to escape, go ahead. Why make such a scene, Tom? It seems your mental state has been seriously damaged."
After saying this, Dumbledore lightly snapped his fingers, and without the need for a wand or spell, a gentle magical force lifted Harry and the severed hand. As for where Quirrell was, all that remained was a robe and a pile of grayish-black ashes.
"Well, I hope Madam Pomfrey recovers soon. I don't want the little boy to miss the graduation feast." Dumbledore looked at Harry and smiled gently. "Thank you for your hard work, kid."
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