A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 71 A Plan Full of Flaws

"Have you noticed anything unusual while you've been monitoring Harry Potter lately?" Quirrell's expression turned serious.

"Something's wrong?" Owen pretended to consider for a moment, then suddenly clapped his hands. "Yes! Harry has always felt he shouldn't have been sorted into Slytherin and suspected someone interfered with the Sorting Hat's decision. He told Hagrid about it, and Hagrid told Dumbledore... Dumbledore told him to be on his guard."

"Did you make this, Professor? Should I try to mislead him?" Owen asked, feigning genuine concern for him.

Quirrell's expression turned strange and puzzled. He shook his head and said, "It wasn't us. Let him continue investigating." He raised his chin, signaling Owen to continue.

"I have every reason to believe that Dumbledore has been closely watching Harry's every move." Owen's expression suddenly became extremely serious. "A few days ago, we found a mirror in a room at the school that could reveal people's hearts. Harry was very fascinated by it, and then we met Dumbledore."

"Judging from what Dumbledore said at the time, he was fully aware of Harry's actions and even his inner thoughts, even though he had never had any contact with Harry before."

"Ha, that's to be expected. That's exactly what Dumbledore would do," Quirrell said with a sly smile. "How could he not be interested in Harry Potter?"

Owen gave him a strange look, genuinely suspecting that Quirrell was just repeating someone's words to sound profound.

"Well, that's all the unusual stuff. Other than that, Harry Potter doesn't seem any different from ordinary people," he said casually.

Quirrell nodded solemnly, then said, "You did well, but you're far from meeting the Dark Lord's requirements."

"Oh dear, Professor Quirrell, I can't exactly kidnap Harry Potter and bring him to you right under Dumbledore's nose," Owen said, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "See, you haven't made any progress on the Philosopher's Stone either."

"I'll be able to get the magic stone for my master soon, it won't be long..." Quirrell murmured.

"Hmm..." Owen looked eager to try. "So, how can I help?"

"Master, I'm enough. You don't need to know..." Quirrell paused halfway through his sentence, then said with a wronged and reluctant expression, "Alright, I might as well tell you about my plan."

Irving blinked. You didn't actually need to tell me, and I didn't want to know at all, really!

"The Philosopher's Stone is hidden inside that door deep in the restricted corridor on the fourth floor, protected by numerous traps set up by the professors," Quirrell said in a low voice. "I was involved in setting up the traps from start to finish, so I know all of them very well."

"These are just petty tricks; I can get through them with ease." He sneered. "The little contraptions others set up aren't even as threatening as the troll I sent in. What can they possibly hold?"

"So your plan is..." Owen crossed his arms.

"At the Halloween feast, all the teachers and students will gather in the auditorium. I'll release a troll from the castle, then pretend to faint in the auditorium, taking advantage of everyone's attention to get past the obstacles and retrieve the Philosopher's Stone for my master," Quirrell said smugly. "I always have a special way of dealing with trolls."

Uh, what a simple, crude, and one-dimensional plan... Are you guys really not just some brute who graduated from Gryffindor? This plan sounds like something some brain-dead idiot came up with on a whim!

"Wow...that's amazing!" Irving clapped.

"So what do you think of this plan, Owen?" Quirrell gazed at him intently, his voice soft. In that instant, his eyes darkened and turned cold, making him appear like a completely different person.

Pshaw, Voldemort is online!

Kyrie Irving felt a headache coming on. Did he really have to switch so easily? He looked so glamorous and calm on the surface, but who knew if his face was covered in blisters behind his back!

He pondered his explanation. The plan was clearly riddled with flaws. Owen had intended to trick them anyway, so he could easily agree and get away with it. But the problem was, he was now unsure whether Voldemort was genuinely naive or feigning it; it was hard to say whether the other was testing him…

Judging from Owen's interactions with the other party these past few days, Voldemort's mind is clearly still quite clear, and he hasn't lost his mind as portrayed in the original story. After all, he's in a real world now, where all sorts of unexpected situations can occur. The original plot can be used as a reference, but it should never be relied upon.

Irving considered for a moment, then decided to point out an obvious but minor flaw: "Professor Quirrell is very good at dealing with trolls? If so, how could you have been so frightened by a troll that you fainted? The professors will definitely be suspicious."

Voldemort tapped the table lightly with his index finger and said softly, "That makes sense."

"Anything else?" he asked with a half-smile.

Owen thought for a moment and asked the question that concerned him most: "Professor, why do you think the Philosopher's Stone is hidden behind that door?" This question was important because if he couldn't help Voldemort "get" the real Philosopher's Stone, the oath wouldn't be broken, and he would be in a difficult situation.

"Excuse my bluntness, Professor, but if someone really wants to hide and protect something behind a door, why would they leave the key to open the door at the entrance?" Owen said softly. "For Dumbledore, even if he just carried the key with him, there wouldn't be many people in the world who would dare to covet the Philosopher's Stone."

"That's a very interesting question." A look of excitement and sarcasm flashed across Voldemort's face for a moment. "Clearly, this is Dumbledore's challenge to me, even though he doesn't know he's facing me. He's always too arrogant, confident that he can guarantee the Philosopher's Stone's safety, and he's trying to lure me into making a move in this way."

"If that's the case, why didn't he just put a fake Philosopher's Stone there?" Owen said seriously. "That would be foolproof, wouldn't it?"

"Don't question my judgment, Owen." Voldemort lazily raised a hand. "I always have a way of confirming that the one inside the door is the real one... The Dark Lord will never be fooled by illusions."

"Has it been confirmed through some kind of spell?" Owen nodded, narrowed his eyes slightly, and began to calculate in his mind.

Voldemort gave him a deep look, added some dark herbs to the cauldron in front of him, and gently tapped it with his right index finger, making the flames under the cauldron burn even more fiercely. The increasingly rich aroma filled every corner of the office, making Owen feel warm all over, with a slightly hazy, intoxicating feeling.

"Did you practice the spell I taught you last time?" Voldemort asked with a smile.

"Of course, there are, very... amazing." Mentioning this instantly sobered Owen. He lowered his eyes slightly to avoid looking at the other person with the eyes one might be looking at a dog.

"Yes, that's a very interesting and sophisticated spell, and you did very well." Voldemort's voice had a snake-like hiss. "However, you haven't yet unlocked its true potential because you haven't truly embraced it... Magic is a power closely tied to the mind; your thoughts and ideas, your spells know."

Owen squinted slightly, his gaze fixed intently on the rising steam from the cauldron. He sensed something was wrong with this potion.

"Since we still have time today, let's continue the lesson," Voldemort casually changed the subject.

"Professor, I have to go to solitary confinement again tonight," Irving said seriously. You're addicted to being a professor, a deep-seated role-playing enthusiast?

"Ah, confinement..." Voldemort murmured, "Because of that interesting machine?" He suddenly chuckled, "It is indeed a very interesting toy."

"There's still plenty of time, so sit down," he said firmly, gesturing to the chair across the table. "I don't want to hear any more disobedience, Owen."

Irving rolled his eyes inwardly and sat down in the chair.

(End of this chapter)