Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 112 Conspiracy (Third Update)

"Why are you looking for me?" Henry asked noncommittally.

"Because you're special," Quirrell said. "You're close to Dumbledore, close to Fudge, and close to everyone in the houses. You can go to many places, meet many people, and do many things that others can't."

He smiled as he said this.

"Besides, you're ambitious—don't rush to deny it, I can tell."

"Slytherins are all ambitious," Henry chuckled softly. "What would I get in return if I helped you?"

Quirrell smiled, a satisfied smile.

This young man is very sensible; he likes him very much.

"Power," he said. "True power."

He took something out of his robe and showed it to Henry.

It was a small glass bottle containing a silvery-white liquid that shimmered in the sunlight.

"Unicorn blood," he said. "Just a drop can make you recover quickly from injuries and give you superhuman vitality."

He held the bottle up so the sunlight would shine on it.

"This is a deposit. Once I get the magic stones, I'll give you more, much more than this. How about it?"

Henry looked at the bottle; the silvery-white liquid flowed slowly in the sunlight, as if it were alive.

The light was soft, yet it stung his eyes.

Unicorn blood.

He remembered the snow-white figure, the warmth of it against his legs, and the look in its eyes when it looked back at him for the last time.

That's its blood.

It was the blood taken from the person who almost killed it.

His hands were clenched tightly in his sleeves, but his face remained expressionless.

That Voldemort of the ditch, if I didn't know that the blood of a unicorn obtained involuntarily is cursed, I would have really been fooled by you.

You, a supposedly mighty Dark Lord, dare to lie to me? Come on, you dare to ambush a twelve-year-old boy like me? Is that alright? No, that's not right.

"Professor," he looked up at Quirrell, "I have a question."

Quirrell squinted.

"ask."

"Why do you need the Philosopher's Stone?" Henry asked.

Quirrell paused for a moment, clearly not expecting Henry to ask that question.

Why?

“Yes,” Henry said. “The Philosopher’s Stone can turn lead into gold and make elixirs of immortality. What use are these things to you? You don’t look like someone who is short of money, and you are so young that you shouldn’t need elixirs of immortality.”

Quirrell was silent for a moment, then he smiled.

"You are very clever, Your Highness," he said. "Very clever indeed."

He paused, seemingly considering how to say it.

"The Philosopher's Stone," he said slowly, "is not only used to make elixirs of immortality, it has another use."

"What's it for?" Henry asked, feigning interest as he tried to stall for time.

Quirrell stared at him, a red glint in his eyes.

"It can resurrect a person."

Henry raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Resurrect someone?"

“Yes,” Quirrell said. “If someone is left with only a wisp of soul and a wisp of consciousness, the Philosopher’s Stone can help him rebuild his body and bring him back to life.”

He stared into Henry's eyes, seemingly observing his reaction.

Do you think someone like that deserves to be resurrected?

Seeing that Henry was still silent, he suddenly laughed eerily, in a particularly Western style of horror.

"Who do you think would need this?"

"I don't know," Henry said, shaking his head.

"You don't know? You really don't know, Your Highness? You know more than you think, you just don't want to admit it." Quirrell laughed. "You know who that person is, you know how he became like that. You also know what this world would be like if he could be resurrected—"

Henry didn't speak, remaining silent, but inwardly he was cursing Ya Ya for running so slowly.

The reinforcements aren't bad at all?

Just then, Quirrell heard a slight noise behind him.

The leaves rustled, as if something was approaching.

Quirrell's smile deepened.

"Your Highness," he said, "I have something to show you."

He turned to the side to avoid being seen.

Henry's pupils suddenly contracted.

In the shadows of the woods stood a unicorn.

Its snow-white figure stood out starkly in the dim forest. It had bandages wrapped around its neck, but it walked up to Quirrell and nuzzled against him.

Henry suddenly realized that this was a setup by Voldemort. No one expected him to use the Imperius Curse to control the unicorn and lure him into the Forbidden Forest.

I'm asking you, are you sick?

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Quirrell said, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Do you know why it's here?"

Henry did not speak and remained silent.

Quirrell laughed, clearly in pain from his teeth.

"That night, in the Forbidden Forest, it met me," he said. "Or rather, it met my master."

.

He waved his hand, and the unicorn immediately stood up straight, like a puppet.

"Our master needs its blood, but unicorns would rather die than let the darkness get close—so we used another method."

He reached out and stroked the unicorn's neck.

The unicorn trembled, but did not flinch.

"The Imperius Curse," Quirrell said. "A very simple spell, but it works exceptionally well on this pure creature. It's completely under my control now; I can make it do whatever I want. I can make it go wherever I want."

He turned around and looked at Henry.

"Including, making it close to you, Your Highness—do you remember? Why did it show affection to you? Do you really think it was your purity that attracted it?"

Henry's gaze fell on the unicorn, and he remained silent.

"Your Highness," Quirrell said again, "I know you had a wonderful time with it, and I know you truly cared for it when you sent it back to the Forbidden Forest."

He smiled as he said this.

"But that's fake. I'm controlling it to show you affection; it never belonged to you." He paused, a flash of red light crossing his eyes. "I know you're a smart man, Your Highness. We're both respectable people, and you wouldn't want me to treat you the way I treat this beast, would you—"

"Professor," Henry finally spoke, "you just said that unicorns are creatures that would rather die than let darkness near them, right?"

"Yes. So?" Quirrell laughed.

“So,” Henry said, looking at the unicorn, “you controlled it with the Imperius Curse, you made it close to me, made me think it trusted me, made me send it back to the Forbidden Forest, and made me come here alone.”

"But I'm curious, I'm just an ordinary first-year student, what's so special about me that would make you go to such lengths to set me up?"