The Silent Bookstore Manager at Hogwarts

Harry walked deeper and deeper, where he saw a mirror and someone he had already anticipated.

"Hello, Professor Quirrell, shouldn't this be the time for rest? It seems you're having trouble sleeping like me?"

Harry wasn't surprised. He and Red had already verified that Professor Quirrell was the mastermind behind the series of events. Red had even managed to extract a lot of strange spell and dark magic knowledge from Professor Quirrell using his unique methods. Of course, they knew it was all just Professor Quirrell's sugar-coated bullets, but Harry and Red really didn't mind eating the sugar coating and throwing the bullets aside.

"Harry........"

Professor Quirrell's tone seemed to carry a hint of disappointment, but in the end he just looked at the Mirror of Erised and didn't turn to look at Harry.

"You don't seem surprised at all."

"Unless there is an unexpected need, Professor Quirrell... If there were sufficient evidence, your name would already be on Headmaster Dumbledore's desk in the Headmaster's office, along with an investigation report and a letter of complaint."

Harry said this, words he had learned from books he had read, words that Red had taught him: no matter when, as long as a fight or struggle begins, one must never lose to the opponent in terms of momentum; sometimes, momentum is more important than strength.

"What a lucky little brat who survived such a close call..."

Professor Quirrell muttered, showing no reaction to Harry's taunts, and turned to look at Harry.

"Come here, Harry, tell me what you saw in the Magic Mirror."

"This is truly surprising. Did your brain get fried and turned to mush from teaching too much Defense Against the Dark Arts? Or is it that a Ravenclaw's brain turns to mush after graduation? Why should I take your orders?"

Harry unleashed his full aggression. Since his opponent was an enemy, he could use any means necessary as long as they didn't cross the line. This was completely different from sparring and training. In a real battle, he had to abandon everything except his bottom line. Everything was for survival and victory. This was the most important lesson he learned from the book "Wounds of Wounds," which recorded the bloody battlefield.

"You..." Professor Quirrell suddenly showed an angry expression, and it was at this moment that Harry realized that perhaps deep down, Professor Quirrell still considered him a member of Ravenclaw.

"Let me speak to him directly..." came the voice from Quirrell, but he didn't speak. In an instant, Harry realized that the main event was about to begin. He glanced at the Mirror of Erised, where he saw himself doing something, but he had no time to care. His scars were burning hot, and he felt as if his blood was flowing like magma, the flames of hatred burning fiercely in his blood.

"Voldemort."

Harry uttered the name calmly, even though his hands trembled with the blood of rage flowing through them, and even though his scars warned him of impending death, his tone remained as calm as a weathered stone.

"Harry, look... because of you, because of your parents, I've become what I am."

Professor Quirrell untied his turban, and on the back of his hairless head, an ugly, twisted face was opening its mouth. Harry instantly realized that this was the person who had killed his parents. He instinctively wanted to draw his weapon, but found that he only had his wand. However, Harry was not foolish enough to think he could defeat the professor by exchanging spells with a Ravenclaw.

"Unicorn blood can prolong my life, but some things can... Harry, come here and look at this mirror."

Voldemort's words carried a unique magic, and Harry felt he was about to be unable to refuse his orders. But in an instant, the twisted and tangled wires seemed to pierce his flesh, causing him pain and bringing him back to his senses.

The rust, blood, cold wind, and flames of war awakened Harry's mind; his scars, no longer burning, were now transmitting a power to him.

"I refuse, you pathetic parasite without a body. Your death is due to your ambition, to your foolish and disgusting methods, not to me or my parents."

Harry spoke, gripping his wand tightly. He believed that even Red couldn't protect him at this moment, but he had to say it.

"You weakling who tramples on the lives and souls of others at will, a pathetic maggot who chooses to live as a parasite because you can't defeat Headmaster Dumbledore, and even when you parasitize, you only dare to choose a pitiful person who can't resist you... You should really send yourself to an ordinary hospital to be a test subject, at least that way you might get some praise."

Harry's words caused Voldemort's already distorted face to completely contort with rage. He angrily repeated the command "Kill him" to Quirrell countless times. At this moment, Voldemort seemed to have completely forgotten his ultimate goal of obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, leaving only the sole thought of killing Harry.

"Phew... The verbal provocation combined with magic really worked. Voldemort doesn't have much magic resistance at this moment..."

Harry thought to himself that he had just tried to retreat and use the terrain to deal with Voldemort and Professor Quirrell, but he did not expect that Professor Quirrell would raise his wand and set the room ablaze with flames, not the black flames that had blocked him in the previous room, but real fire.

"Go to hell, you despicable little bastard!"

Professor Quirrell raised his wand, but for some reason he didn't cast any spells. Instead, he moved closer to Harry at Voldemort's behest.

"Will you fight me in close combat? Do you have some trump card or a spell that can only be used in close combat?"

Harry looked at Quirrell with a puzzled expression. Suddenly, he felt a weight in his pocket as something fell into it. But there was no time to think about it. Harry immediately distanced himself from Professor Quirrell and observed him from a safe distance.

What surprised Harry even more was that Professor Quirrell seemed to genuinely just want to use his adult physique to subdue him without any other ulterior motives. Realizing this, Harry almost laughed helplessly.

"Although I don't know what happened, if that's all there is to it, my suggestion is, Professor Quirrell, you should just wait for Headmaster Dumbledore to return and then turn yourself in. After all, I can't guarantee what might happen to you."

As Harry spoke, he leaped and bounded around the room like a nimble monkey, his hand already in his pocket; he was about to retaliate.