The wheelchair-bound warrior is speedrunning Hogwarts.

Quirrell's body trembled violently under the scorching flames, and his skin began to turn an unnatural charred black, but he still stubbornly urged the black mist under Voldemort's control, trying to suppress the flames.

Vera was also in poor condition. Her already fair complexion appeared even paler in the firelight, and fine beads of sweat appeared on her forehead.

Maintaining the Fiery Flame requires extremely strong magical control and willpower. For her now, every second she persists would place an enormous burden on her body and mind.

Her magic was rapidly depleting, and mental exhaustion washed over her like a tidal wave; she could only grit her teeth and continue.

Seeing that she was about to give up, Harley gritted her teeth and charged straight toward Quirrell's location without hesitation!

After a series of battles, she no longer had the strength to cast spells, but she could still—knock Voldemort over!

A resolute glint appeared in her emerald eyes, and Harley's petite figure shot out like a bullet, slamming into Quirrell's side!

"Harley! No!" Hermione screamed in terror, instinctively raising her wand, but unsure what spell to cast to stop it all without harming Harley.

Voldemort's entire attention was focused on fighting Vera's Fiendfire, and he had no idea that the girl he considered prey would so recklessly charge at him.

"boom!"

Harley's small frame suddenly unleashed astonishing power, slamming hard into Quirrell.

Quirrell staggered, and the surging black mist around him and the magic power fighting against the Fiendfire experienced a brief period of disorder and interruption.

Even more horrifyingly, the instant Harley's hand touched Quirrell's skin, he suddenly let out a scream far more piercing and painful than ever before.

The moment he touched Harley's forehead and hands, hissing white smoke appeared, and her skin turned charred and blistered, as if it had been corroded by strong acid!

Voldemort let out a sharp hiss from behind Quirrell's head, filled with unbelievable pain and rage.

Without the resistance of the black mist, the Fiery Blaze surged instantly, threatening to engulf Quirrell!

"Harley, come back!" Vera, enduring the excruciating mental pain and the dizziness from the exhaustion of magic, abruptly withdrew the Fiendfire spell.

The blazing flames vanished abruptly, leaving only swirling heat and the pungent smell of burning flesh in the air.

Taking advantage of this brief moment, Quirrell retreated in terror, trying to get away from Harley. For the first time, fear showed in his eyes, which had been numb from being manipulated.

Harley herself was stunned. She looked at her unharmed hands, then at the horrific burns on Quirrell's face and hands. Her emerald eyes were filled with confusion, but even more so with the determination to seize the opportunity.

“Are you afraid of me?” Harley took a step forward, and Quirrell took a step back in fear.

“Vera! Hermione!” Harley cried, her eyes fixed on Quirrell, whose face was contorted with pain and fear as he retreated. “Don’t be afraid, he can’t touch me!”

Before she could finish speaking, she pounced again, reaching out to grab Quirrell's face and arms!

"No! Don't touch me! Get away!" Voldemort screamed hysterically, manipulating Quirrell's body to dodge awkwardly, and almost fell over again due to extreme panic.

That ancient protective magic, which originated from Lily Potter's sacrifice, was the most potent and unbearable poison for Voldemort, who relied on stealing lives and depending on others for his existence.

Vera, battling a splitting headache, watched as Quirrell staggered back and tried to raise his hand to block Harley, then aimed her wand at his feet—

"The ground is as slippery as oil!"

The smooth stone paving stones beneath Quirrell's feet instantly became incredibly greasy, causing him to completely lose his balance and fall backward with a scream—

With a loud bang, the back of his head, Voldemort's hideous and twisted face, slammed heavily against the hard edge of the Mirror of Erised's base!

For a moment, Voldemort let out an unprecedented, extremely painful and terrified scream.

Quirrell's body convulsed violently like a puppet with its strings cut, slamming his head against the mirror with a sickening thud, from which dark red blood and a grayish-black, smoky substance seeped out.

The black mist surrounding him churned and twisted violently, then, as if it had lost its core support, it suddenly became thin and unstable, and began to dissipate rapidly.

Quirrell's eyes widened, his pupils dilated, and he made meaningless "hoarse" sounds as his body convulsed less and less.

On the back of his head, Voldemort's face blurred and distorted, like a poorly receiving image, emitting intermittent, hissing sounds filled with extreme resentment: "Potter... Black... I will... return..."

Vera's eyes narrowed. Now that things had come to this, she could not allow this part of Voldemort's soul to leave alive!

Before Voldemort could finish speaking, Vera, enduring a severe headache and dizziness from exhaustion, raised her wand once more.

This time, her target was not Quirrell, but the grayish-black, smoky substance that was trying to escape from the broken back of Quirrell's head—a fragment of Voldemort's broken soul!

The fiery flames erupted once more from the tip of the staff, precisely enveloping the black mist that was trying to escape.

With a piercing, inhuman scream echoing through the room, the black mist writhed and struggled wildly in the flames, like a living creature, yet unable to break free from the pure, all-encompassing, and fierce flames.

The piercing screams abruptly ceased within seconds.

The black mist was completely burned away, turning into wisps of smoke that dissipated into the air without leaving any trace.

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Only Quirrell's body, lying on the ground, occasionally twitched unconsciously, proving that what had just happened was not an illusion.

Harley's hand remained outstretched as she stared blankly at Quirrell, who lay motionless on the ground.

Hermione nearly collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving violently.

Vera leaned back in her wheelchair, her face as pale as paper. Her long, silver-gray hair was soaked with sweat, clinging to her cheeks and neck. Her temples throbbed, each heartbeat bringing a wave of dizziness and dull pain.

The aftereffects of overusing the Fiendfire spell and maintaining a high level of magical circuit perception overwhelmed her, almost causing her to faint.

"Is he... is he dead?" Harley asked cautiously.

Hermione slowly lowered her wand, looking at Quirrell's body with lingering shock, and went over to check him over: "No... he's still alive."

"Merlin..." Hermione looked at the unconscious Quirrell and the pained Harley, then at Vera, who was pale and clearly exhausted, her voice filled with lingering fear and shock, "We really won..."

Moreover, they still managed to defeat Voldemort.

Vera's breathing was still trembling slightly. She turned her gaze to the Mirror of Eris, which was right in front of her. The image in the mirror began to distort and fluctuate before finally freezing.

In the mirror, she stood, but in her palm she held a bright red, crystal-clear stone.

That is the Philosopher's Stone.

It lay quietly in her palm, radiating a soft and alluring light.

Vera closed her eyes, forced herself to clear her mind, and pushed her wheelchair backward a little.

“Harley,” she said softly, her voice slightly hoarse with exhaustion, “go look at that mirror.”

Harley snapped back to reality, her emerald eyes shifting from Quirrell to the Mirror of Erised, where the image made her hold her breath.

“The Philosopher’s Stone…” Harley murmured.

The next moment, a real, warm touch fell into Harley's pocket.

Harley paused, then looked down incredulously and pulled the Philosopher's Stone from her trouser pocket, as if it had always been there.

It all seemed so unreal—they had actually managed to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort.

"We...we did it?" she murmured, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

“Yes, Harry, we did it!” Hermione’s voice trembled with tears, yet it was filled with excitement and relief. She rushed over and hugged Harry tightly. “You’re amazing!”

Harley hugged Hermione back, but her gaze went past Hermione's shoulder to Vera in the wheelchair.

Vera was breathing heavily, her face deathly pale.

But her dark eyes remained fixed on them, a weary yet relieved smile playing on her lips.

"Vera!" Harley gently pushed Hermione aside, quickly walked to Vera's side, knelt down, and asked anxiously, "How are you? You look terrible..."

"I'm fine," Vera's voice was a little hoarse, and she forced a smile. "I'm just a little exhausted. The Philosopher's Stone... is it safe?"

Harley nodded vigorously, handing Vera the Philosopher's Stone she had been clutching tightly. "Here it is! Vera, thank you so much..."

“We did it together, Harley,” Vera interrupted her softly, her gaze tender. “And you were the key.”

Harley paused for a moment, then instinctively tightened her grip on her hand.

Hermione came over, her face filled with worry and lingering fear: "What should we do now? Quirrell, he..."

She glanced at Quirrell, who lay unconscious on the ground, blood still seeping from the back of his head, and couldn't help but shudder.

Just then, the black flames at the entrance to the room were suddenly pushed aside as if by an invisible hand, and a tall figure hurriedly walked in.

It's Dumbledore.

His sharp, azure eyes quickly swept across the entire room, seemingly somewhat surprised by the outcome.

“It seems,” he said gently, “that I have missed a rather exciting contest.”

"Headmaster!" Hermione exclaimed, as if she had found a pillar of support. She rushed over, almost in tears. "It's the Mystic One! He's possessed Professor Quirrell! He wants the Philosopher's Stone!"

Dumbledore comforted Hermione briefly, then quickly walked to Harry's side, knelt down to examine her carefully, and asked gently, "Are you alright, Harry?"

Harley nodded, opened her palm to reveal the Philosopher's Stone inside: "We stopped him, Professor."

Dumbledore took the Philosopher's Stone, gave her a careful look, and then turned to Quirrell. With a tap of his wand, he conjured bandages and a stretcher, securing him properly.

"What will he do?" Harley asked softly.

“St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Injuries and Sicknesses will do its best to treat him,” Dumbledore said, with a barely perceptible sigh in his voice, “but Voldemort’s possession has hurt him deeply… he will need a long time to recover.”

In fact, Quirrell is now finding it difficult to even save his own life.

After dealing with Giorno, Dumbledore stood up: "Now, I think you all need to get some rest. We can talk about everything that happened tonight tomorrow."

He waved his wand, and Quirrell's stretcher floated up. He then gestured for the girls to follow and led the way toward the door.

The black flames silently parted before him, making way for him.

The return journey seemed exceptionally long.

Vera had almost exhausted all her strength and was only able to stay conscious through sheer willpower.

Harley and Hermione pushed her one after the other, occasionally casting worried glances their way.

They walked silently through room after room, the intricate puzzles now utterly silent, as if the thrilling experience just moments before had been nothing but a dream.

Finally, they walked out of the fourth-floor corridor and returned to the familiar castle corridor.

Dumbledore took them directly to the school hospital.

Mrs. Pomfrey, who had already been informed and was waiting there, immediately let out a series of exclamations upon seeing their appearance.

"Merlin! What's wrong now? Quick, Miss Potter, lie down on this bed! Miss Black, you look terrible, you need to be examined immediately!"

Without a word, she forced Harley onto a bed and then immediately turned to Vera.

"I'm fine, madam, just a little tired," Vera forced a smile.

Madam Pomfrey didn't believe it at all. With a wave of her wand, she began to quickly examine the woman's physical condition, her brows furrowing deeper and deeper:

"Your magic is depleted, and you are mentally exhausted! You need to rest immediately and cannot use any more magic!"

Dumbledore nodded to Madam Pomfrey: "Then it's up to you, Bobby. Let them rest well, and we'll talk about anything else tomorrow."

He smiled gently at the girls: “Well done, girls. Now, rest easy.”

After saying that, he left the school hospital with Quirrell's stretcher, presumably to arrange the follow-up matters.

Madam Pomfrey treated the minor abrasion on Harry's arm, then insisted that Vera and Hermione also lie down on a hospital bed.

Actually, only Hermione was relatively unharmed and in no serious condition, although she was a little listless, but Madam Pomfrey still forced her to stay.

She poured each of the three a cup of warm, calming medicine and watched them drink it.

The drug took effect quickly, and Harley and Hermione fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

Vera also felt a heavy drowsiness wash over her like a tide, and slowly lay down on the bed.

This time, she could finally relax completely and let herself drift into a dreamless sleep.

Author's Note: This chapter is a long one of 10,000 words; I mainly wanted to defeat Voldemort quickly...

Chapter 133 What to do when your roommate is too clingy?

Vera slept very soundly until the sunlight streamed through the school hospital window and warmly fell on her face, at which point she slowly woke up.

The physical fatigue had mostly subsided, but the mental exhaustion remained, as if I had gone through a long and intense mental storm.

She stirred slightly and found that Harley and Hermione's beds were empty, presumably because they had already woken up and left.

After experiencing the same ordeal, is it true that her recovery ability is indeed a bit worse than that of her peers...?

Almost at the same time, the curtain of the ward was gently pulled open, and Mrs. Pomfrey walked in carrying a tray.

"Ah, you're awake, Miss Black." She walked quickly to the bedside, her tone much gentler than the night before. "How are you feeling? Is anything else bothering you?"

"Much better, Madam, thank you." Vera propped herself up on her arms, her thin face appearing even more endearing in the sunlight. "Where are Harley and Hermione?"

"Miss Potter and Miss Granger were called away by Professor McGonagall early in the morning, who said that Headmaster Dumbledore wanted to see them."

Mrs. Pomfrey placed a tray on the bedside table with a glass of water and some light food on it. "Your body has been expended far more than theirs, and you need more rest... Here, have something to eat first."