Magical Studies at Hogwarts...

Chapter 35 Face to Face

"Where is it...where is it..." Quirrell seemed to have gone mad, muttering incessantly, his face turning pale at a visible speed, and his voice gradually weakening.

Ike looked at the bluish-purple marks slowly creeping up the back of Quirrell's neck and knew it was the curse of unicorn blood.

The first time, Quirrell lasted about ten days, but the second time he only lasted seven or eight days, and the backlash was even more severe.

"No wonder he came looking for the Philosopher's Stone today. Has he given up?" Ike thought to himself.

The deaths of two unicorns were a big deal, and Hagrid and the centaurs increased patrols, making it much harder to steal the power of unicorn blood.

Quirrell's plan was good, but Dumbledore used magic to hide the Philosopher's Stone inside the Mirror of Erised, making it impossible for people like Quirrell, Voldemort, and Ike to obtain it.

That's right, Ike also wants the Philosopher's Stone.

Regardless of whether the stone hidden inside the Mirror of Erised is real or fake, according to Schrödinger's theory, before the Philosopher's Stone was taken out, it was in a mysterious state of being both real and fake, meaning there was at least a 50% chance that it was real.

Assuming the Philosopher's Stone is real, its research value as the most magical alchemical creation of centuries is immeasurable.

Putting everything else aside, the idea of ​​turning lead into gold is incredibly tempting and enough to drive countless people crazy.

"I can't get it, Master... I can't get it..." After hours of searching, Quirrell was driven to despair, his voice trembling with tears, which startled Voldemort, who had fallen into a deep sleep due to weakness.

Voldemort was furious, but it was impotent rage. Possessed by Quirrell, he was powerless, especially in his current state. Even seven or eight days ago, when he had just drunk the unicorn's blood, Voldemort had been able to forcefully break Dumbledore's magic.

Fortunately, there is still some hope.

Having taught at Hogwarts for an entire term, Quirrell not only made many preparations for stealing the Philosopher's Stone, but also conducted extensive research on Harry, the boy who had miraculously survived, and gained a deep understanding of Harry's character.

That was a little wizard who looked just like a Gryffindor...

Commonly known as a brute.

Now, Quirrell is waiting for Harry!

He's no fool; he knows perfectly well who these so-called challenges are for. You could say they're a stage set up for Harry.

Otherwise, what can a mere Devil's Web or Wizard's Chess possibly stop? Only the initial Cerberus was troublesome, holding him off for almost a semester.

However, there are many things we know are impossible but have no choice but to do. Voldemort needed the Philosopher's Stone, and Quirrell needed it too; they knew they were in a trap, but they still had to jump in.

He had no choice!

Quirrell remained standing before the Mirror of Erised, the curse of the unicorn blood forcing him to conserve every ounce of energy and adjust his condition. Ike, on the other hand, was much freer, but he too sat on the stone steps to the side, rhythmically tapping his thigh with his wand, his mind focused on the impending "battle."

After waiting for several more hours, the main character finally appeared.

Harry jumped in as expected, and the first thing he saw was Quirrell standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, which startled him greatly. Even a moment before, he had guessed it was the wicked Snape.

“It’s right here, I can feel it,” Quirrell said in a low, slow voice. “But why can’t I get it? Why do you ask, Mr. Potter?”

"Professor Quirrell? It's you?" Ike, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but sigh at Harry's slow reaction time. Harry, oblivious to this, continued to ask, "Why isn't it Snape?"

"Yes, why not Snape..." Quirrell's words were tinged with anger, regret, and helplessness. "With Professor Snape flying around like a bat, who would pay attention to poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

"But he wants to kill me!" Harry shouted, feeling his worldview shattered, Quirrell's presence shattering his understanding.

"No, no, no, Potter, it was I who wanted to kill you..." Quirrell completely followed the rule that villains must confess their plots, recounting almost everything that had happened throughout the semester. "...In a way, he was indeed my accomplice."

"Snape was a Death Eater, you know that..." Quirrell's voice lowered at the last sentence, then he said to Ike, who had been watching the show for a while, "Mr. Strayed, please tie up our savior. We need him now."

Harry was taken aback when he noticed the other person in the room, even though Hermione had reminded him just minutes before that Ike might be inside.

Ike didn't waste any words with Harry; he was now on the villain's side! With a wave of his hand, several ropes appeared out of thin air and bound Harry tightly, like a mummy, with only his eyes and mouth showing.

"Why are you here! Hermione trusted you so much!" Harry shouted again. "How could you do this to her, Ike!"

Ike reached out and placed Harry beside Quirrell, remaining silent. Quirrell, however, pinched Harry's cheek as if examining a wondrous and rare object: "Is this the Savior? He doesn't look very good. Foolish, reckless, I really don't know what you're all about..."

"Quirk...don't waste time...hurry up and let him get the Philosopher's Stone..." a voice rang out, speaking slowly and weakly, panting heavily.

"Master..." Quirrell replied respectfully, and with Harry looking on in confusion, he untied the ropes binding him and then pushed him in front of the Mirror of Erised.

"Tell me quickly, what did you see in the mirror?" Quirrell asked impatiently.

Harry recognized it as the Mirror of Erised from the abandoned classroom. He looked at it curiously and saw his reflection wink at him before putting a red hand into his pocket.

Just as the stone in the mirror was put into his pocket, Harry felt something round and angular suddenly press against his thigh, which startled him.

Faced with Quirrell's urging, Harry decided to lie: "I...I saw Dumbledore shaking my hand again. I won the House Cup for Gryffindor."

"He's lying! He's lying!" the voice rang out again. "Let me talk to him, Quirrell, let me talk to him!"

"But Master..."

"Let me talk to him!" Old Voldemort was adamant, so Quirrell had no choice but to take off his headscarf and turn around. Harry immediately saw an ugly face.

"We meet again, Harry Potter, the boy who lived..." Voldemort's current appearance startled Harry and Ike. A week ago, when they met again, Voldemort's face was still recognizable as human, but now it was completely different.

It was completely bloodless; its originally pale green eyes had turned bright red, and its nostrils had changed from round to long and thin, like a two-pronged socket.

"Look at me, Harry Potter. You've turned me into this wretched state, only able to function by inhabiting a servant's body..."

"Over the past two weeks, the unicorn blood has helped me recover somewhat, but I still have to endure that damned curse..."

"However, once I obtain the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Immortality, I will be able to create a new body for myself..."

"So why don't you hand over the magic stone in your pocket to me?"

Harry suddenly regained feeling in his legs, took a few steps back to avoid Voldemort's eyes, and shouted, "You won't get it! You won't get it!" before turning and running toward the black flames.

"Stop him!" Voldemort shouted, and Quirrell and Ike lunged at Harry. Ike was a little too far away, falling behind by two steps, and watched helplessly as Quirrell grabbed Harry's arm, letting out a bloodcurdling scream.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! What... what is this?!" Quirrell's right hand was bright red, as if it had been burned by flames, and his fingertips were slowly turning black.

"Grab him!" Voldemort shouted again. As soon as he finished speaking, Ike grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him so hard that he stumbled and fell to the ground.

Ignoring the pain in his right hand, Quirrell reached out his left hand to Harry again. Harry was already unsteady on his feet, waving his hands frantically, trying to grab something to steady himself. He had been pulled earlier, and in his panic, his left hand had grabbed Ike's hand, but before his right hand could find a place, Quirrell offered it up again.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Another scream rang out as Quirrell watched helplessly as his hands turned from red to black, and he backed away, trying to get away from Harry.

At that moment, Harry realized that Quirrell shouldn't touch his body!

Awakened, Harry felt filled with courage. He leaped and clung to Quirrell, pressing his hands against Quirrell's face, his fingers digging in as if trying to grab something.

He did indeed snatch it off—a large chunk of bright red, scorching flesh that kept turning black and gray!

Looking again, Quirrell had collapsed helplessly to the ground, his hands, which were turning to black ash, covering his equally ashen face. He could no longer make a sound, but through his eyes, one could clearly see that he was experiencing unimaginable pain, and in a short while, he turned to ashes.

"Harry Potter..." A dark figure rose from the ashes, glaring angrily at Harry, and cursed, "It's you again! It's you again! I'll kill you, kill you!"

"Ike! Give me the Philosopher's Stone!" Old Voldemort's words woke Harry up as well. He looked at Ike, who seemed completely unaffected, and then covered his pockets and hid behind him.

Ike sighed, glancing at the unchanged black flames out of the corner of his eye. He raised his hand, and Harry flew to his feet. He tapped Harry's hand with his wand, and Harry felt an unbearable stinging pain, involuntarily loosening his grip.

Harry easily retrieved the Philosopher's Stone, but he still shouted, "Ike! Ike! Don't give him the Philosopher's Stone!"

Ike glanced at Harry, startling him into shutting his mouth. Those cold eyes reminded Harry of Snape.

"So noisy..." Ike muttered, holding the Philosopher's Stone and looking at Old Voldemort, who had turned into a shadow.

The curse of unicorn blood, Quirrell's death, and the strange power within Harry had weakened Voldemort to an extreme degree, even more so than when Quirrell first met him last year.

"Give it to me...give it to me..." Old Voldemort repeated in a low voice, and Ike slowly walked towards Voldemort. Harry, enduring the pain in his hand, tried to grab Ike's foot, but missed, and could only watch helplessly as Ike reached Voldemort's side and handed him the Philosopher's Stone.

"No!"

"No!"

Two voices rang out one after the other; the former was filled with disappointment, pain, and deep regret, while the latter was pure anger.

"It's fake! Fake! Dumbledore!" As soon as Old Voldemort touched the Philosopher's Stone, he realized that apart from the strange magical fluctuations on the surface, it was just an ordinary red stone inside. It was this strange magic that had deceived his senses.

Enraged, Voldemort lunged at Harry, intending to kill him, but then, remembering Quirrell's horrific state, he stopped halfway, turning back to walk through the black flames, leaving behind only a resentful cry:

"I'll be back! Wait for me!"

Ike stared intently at the black flames, and only after a long while, confirming that Voldemort had escaped, did he breathe a sigh of relief. He took a few steps to Harry's side, squatted down, ignored Harry's fierce glare, and pointed his wand at Harry.

"Healed as before!"

Harry was stunned. He felt his body gradually regain strength and struggled to get up, but was ruthlessly suppressed by Ike with a single finger.

"You'd better lie down for a while. Healing spells aren't a cure-all; they can't alleviate the depletion of your magic and spirit," Ike said, flicking his wrist to reveal a red stone in his hand. After a brief examination, he couldn't help but exclaim, "This is the Philosopher's Stone..."

"Who would have thought that such powerful magical energy fluctuations would be so firmly trapped by the outer shell, with only this small part showing..."

Harry was completely bewildered, his mind feeling like it had been kicked repeatedly by a thousand horses, a thousand mules, and a thousand donkeys: "What...what...what's going on?"

He couldn't understand why there were two magic stones.

"A copying spell, a very useful spell." Ike casually remarked, toying with the magic stone in his hand. "If the magical energy fluctuations around the stone weren't so weak, I might not have been able to fool him..."

"But how did you do that? I saw you take the magic stone out of my pocket with my own eyes, how..."

"Haven't you ever seen magic before, Harry?" Ike flicked his wrist, and the Philosopher's Stone disappeared; with another flick, it reappeared in his hand. "Simple illusion."

With a casual shove of the Philosopher's Stone into his pocket, Ike waved his hand and Harry flew into the air.

"Alright, we should get going. You'll need to go to the school hospital for a few days, Harry."

Just as Ike reached the black flames and was about to cast a fire control spell to separate them, the flames suddenly went out, and a group of people appeared before him.

An old man with white hair and a white beard, a greasy-haired, expressionless man, and a little witch with fluffy brown hair.

"Mr. Strayed, I think you have something to give me before I take Harry to the school hospital," the white-bearded old man said with a smile, looking very kind.

"Professor Dumbledore..."

Ike smiled, nodded slightly as a greeting, and waved to the anxious little witch beside him.

"Hermione, it's been a long time, two or three days, hasn't it..."

Hermione nodded, her expression complex.

"Ike, long time no see..."

Here I am, and shamelessly asking for votes!

In addition, a book club group has been established: 714141880

(End of this chapter)