Harry's body was stiff, and he could only wait for "Professor Flitwick" to turn around.
Now he understood; this was clearly an alchemical construct in the likeness of Professor Flitwick, and worse than a game of Red Light, Green Light—this thing didn't even count to three!
How long the puppet would turn its head was completely random, which made people not even dare to run or jump a little faster, as its reactions were truly sharp; any slight movement would result in a fierce spell being cast.
After several more attempts, he felt even more that this alchemical puppet was troublesome.
Trying to destroy this puppet was utterly nonsensical; it was protected by an alchemical array, and spells cast upon it were useless, only bouncing back.
Harry's expression was serious, and he kept pondering, "An alchemical construct… Is this Nicolas Flamel's work? Or Howl's?"
He didn't know how strong Howl's Alchemy was; very few people studied this skill now, and Hogwarts didn't even have corresponding courses.
So he chose to equate Howl's skill directly with what the general public considered the most powerful.
It definitely wouldn't be wrong!
Therefore, he could only proceed slowly, step by step.
After about ten minutes, he finally passed the puppet and reached the door.
Just as he let out a sigh of relief and was about to walk straight to open the door, his gaze suddenly noticed the side of the door.
There were charred black marks and splashed bloodstains, indicating that someone had suffered a great loss here!
Harry was immediately startled and didn't move, his gaze trying to look sideways at the alchemical puppet.
At this moment, turning back became turning away.
Turning away became turning back.
The concepts of front and back had already been reversed!
After realizing this, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Quirrell; he probably thought, just like Harry had earlier, that simply getting past the puppet would be all, and as a result, he took a heavy hit.
How unconventional this was!
No, it should be said… malicious fun, an extreme form of malicious fun. If someone fell for it, the person who set up the challenge would definitely smirk with satisfaction.
Harry had already vaguely guessed who had set up this challenge.
In his mind, Howl's unique "good fruit smile" gradually appeared.
Thinking this, Harry observed the puppet's turning movements while slowly advancing, gradually placing his hand on the doorknob.
At the same time, he also began to guess what the next challenge would be.
So far, according to the logic of the challenges, he had successively experienced screaming, silence, and stillness.
Harry even used this logic to deduce the characteristics of Fluffy—it was related to sound.
And these three, respectively, were Herbology, Transfiguration, and Charms.
So next would be Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potion.
And the characteristic of this challenge, first, was inherited from the stillness of the previous one.
Second, it was sight…
Thinking this, Harry's gaze caught the puppet turning away, and he quickly opened and closed the door, hurrying out of there!
In the next room, as soon as he entered, he cautiously scanned his surroundings, while a strong foul odor assaulted him.
The stench even began to burn his eyes, causing hot tears to roll down involuntarily.
Through his blurry, tear-filled eyes, he only saw a Troll, even larger than the one he had killed last time, lying motionless on the floor in front of him, already lifeless.
Observation… Well, whatever, he finally encountered a one-time challenge; that was good news.
The Troll was already dead, but there were no wounds on its body, clearly, this was the power of Avada Kedavra.
The person who cast it must have been skilled enough with this spell to effortlessly eliminate a Troll with strong magical resistance like this.
The Troll's skin was red and congested, and on its back, there were two backpack-like injectors.
Harry walked forward and examined it carefully, vaguely smelling a familiar scent.
Thinking this, he drew his blue steel sword and cut open the Troll's back, and immediately thick blood gushed out.
At the same time, a peculiar smell, different from the scent of blood, entered his nostrils; this smell was a bit pungent, yet not without a hint of fragrance.
Harry's expression was calm, memories constantly swirling in his mind; he directly used the blue steel sword to cut open the Troll's back, and with the addition of the Sharpness Charm, it wasn't too much trouble.
Soon, he cut out the injection bottles from the Troll's back, fanning his hand to carefully distinguish the scent within!
Exhilaration Potion!
That was in the summer of 1990, the second Potion Howl taught him, a Potion used to help him completely control his magic.
No… not right, he had drunk Exhilaration Potion, this smell was very similar, but not entirely.
Harry looked at the Troll's reddish skin, and the answer slowly emerged in his mind.
Exhilaration Potion, in fact, was a weaker version of another Potion…
A moment later, he slowly stood up, first wiping the blood from his sword, then resting for a moment in the less dangerous room, before pushing open the next door.
Then, Harry froze.
A figure appeared before him, wearing a blood-stained, tattered robe, with a purple turban on his head; he was currently hunched over, and blood dripped along the path he walked.
Quirrell spoke weakly, "Master, I am injured…"
"Fool, who told you to stand there motionless, staring at that modified Troll?!" Another voice sounded from Quirrell, cold and hoarse, making one feel very uncomfortable.
"But… but according to the challenge logic, staring should exempt one from conflict." Quirrell's voice trembled.
"Yes, and then you, you stupid pig, just stared at it, watching its club knock you flying!"
When Harry heard this, the scene of himself thinking he had grasped the challenge rules and trying to pass by staring, only to be knocked flying by the Troll with a club, involuntarily emerged in his mind…
It was as if he heard Howl's sinister chuckle:
"No rules, I am the rules!"
"Someone's coming!" The sinister voice roared.
Quirrell suddenly turned his head; he was utterly miserable at this moment, with a large swollen area on his face, a broken nose, and his face covered in blood.
"Harry Potter?!" Quirrell looked at him in surprise. Then he laughed, and Harry noticed he was missing two teeth.
"I thought it would be Severus or McGonagall, or at least a Professor…" He just kept laughing, his body involuntarily straightening considerably, his tone drawn out: "Are you perhaps overestimating yourself?"
"You should ask that question to yourself in the mirror." Harry said calmly, his wand suddenly pointing at Quirrell.
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 30 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[email protected]/Rexlent
Thank you so much for your support!!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"