Chapter 98: How Did the Philosopher's Stone End Up in My Hands?
Quirrell glared at Dylan, hatred in his eyes.
"Those people teaching you the counter-curses for dark magic was one thing, but they actually taught you dark magic? Have they gone mad?!"
Dylan tilted his head. "What exactly are you talking about? How could the professors teach me dark magic?"
"Stop pretending! If those guys didn't teach you dark magic, how else would you know the Unforgivable Curses?!" Quirrell roared.
Dylan blinked innocently. "How could a first-year student like me know the Unforgivable Curses? I think you've really gone crazy from wanting to steal the Philosopher's Stone."
Dylan looked Quirrell up and down, as if seeing him for the first time.
"The one who spoke first wasn't you, right? Could it be that mysterious person Harry mentioned?"
Quirrell was somewhat bewildered by Dylan's reaction.
Why did this little brat deny everything he had done?
Could it really not have been him?
Was it someone else who attacked him and his master in the Forbidden Forest last time?
Quirrell frowned, sizing Dylan up.
Seeing that the other party seemed to have come alone, Quirrell's eyes darted around, and then he suddenly dropped his angry expression, a smile appearing on his lips.
"Since you already know I'm here for the Philosopher's Stone, you still dare to come alone? Could it be that you're also interested in the Stone?"
Dylan didn't deny Quirrell's words outright but instead considered them seriously.
"Nicolas Flamel, before creating the Philosopher's Stone, dreamed of an angel telling him he would receive a magical book."
"After that, he exchanged only two Florins for a tome called 'The Book of Abraham the Jew'."
"He spent a full 21 years deciphering the book and collecting information before finally successfully creating the Philosopher's Stone."
Dylan's words made Quirrell frown deeply. "Where did you learn all this? No, what are you trying to tell me?"
Dylan chuckled softly. "I'm trying to tell you that instead of possessing a stone created by someone else, why not create something even more magical than the Philosopher's Stone yourself?"
"If I'm not mistaken, you probably want to use the Philosopher's Stone to help the mysterious person revive, right?"
Quirrell's frown remained. "So what if I do?"
"Tsk." Dylan looked at the turban on Quirrell's head.
"Let me guess again. The voice that first alerted you that I had entered the room seemed to come from the back of your head."
"Could it be that the infamous and feared mysterious person—Voldemort—is currently residing on your seemingly smelly head?"
Quirrell's face changed.
Since this first-year wizard had heard of his master's name, how dare he address his master by name directly?
He simply didn't want to live anymore!
"How dare you say that! My master will be angry!"
"So?"
Dylan looked puzzled.
"So—?! So I originally wanted to win you over, but since you dare to speak of my master like that, you must die!"
Quirrell raised his wand towards Dylan.
"Will I die?"
Dylan maintained his smile and then gently put his hood back on.
Quirrell struck suddenly. "Avada Kedavra!"
The evil green light shot towards Dylan.
But it passed through the body that should have been hit, striking the surrounding walls.
Quirrell was stunned, immediately looking around, holding his wand in front of his chest, his steps slow.
"Child, perhaps you have some misunderstanding about me. Why don't you come out now and resolve this misunderstanding with me? Don't you want to study the power of the Philosopher's Stone?"
"The supreme power to bring the dead back to life, to turn stone into gold, to grant you eternal life—doesn't it tempt you?"
"Your parents are just Muggles, right? They will eventually die one day. You, being Muggle-born, must know this deeply. Don't you want your parents to stay by your side forever?"
Quirrell spoke continuously in the room, as if talking to himself, but only his voice echoed. Besides that, there wasn't even the sound of another person's footsteps.
"Fool, he's already close!"
Just then, a voice suddenly came from the back of Quirrell's head.
He turned around abruptly.
Before he could recover.
"Sectumsempra!"
A surge of magic slammed into him.
But Quirrell didn't see any magical light.
"Ah!"
Everything happened too fast. Only a "rip" sound, like tearing silk, was heard.
Quirrell's robes were instantly torn open in several large gashes. Immediately afterward, the wounds spread across his skin, like greedy little snakes, quickly snaking across his chest and arms.
Blood spurted from these wounds, splashing onto the surrounding ground, the blooming blood flowers making Dylan feel very comfortable.
"Why does this spell feel like Professor Snape tailored it just for me? I got the hang of it way too quickly!"
Not only was it fast, but as soon as he used it, he could directly unleash the extremely powerful force of this spell!
[Notification]: Congratulations, you have severely injured your professor! You have unlocked a new achievement!
At the same time, the system notification sound, combined with Quirrell's miserable scream, came together.
Quirrell staggered backward uncontrollably, reaching out instinctively to cover the wounds, trying to stop the gushing blood.
However, even with both hands covering them, he couldn't cover them all, couldn't stop the bleeding.
"How do you know this spell?!"
Quirrell's eyes glared fiercely at Dylan.
If Dylan hadn't attacked him in the Forbidden Forest last time, then as a first-year student, even though the exams were over and this new student wasn't so new anymore, but—!
Who could tell him who had taught him this powerful dark magic??
Was this something a first-year wizard should know?
Huh? Should it be? Was this reasonable??
"Fool, quickly stop your bleeding! I can feel my life force draining away!"
The hoarse voice from the back of Quirrell's head sounded again.
"Master, I, I'm already trying to stop the bleeding..."
"Use magic!!!"
"Ah? Oh, oh..."
Quirrell was stunned, then raised his wand.
"Reparo!"
Magic surged from the tip of his wand, pouring onto his body.
However, Quirrell's injuries only paused slightly, and then the bleeding continued.
The hoarse voice sounded again, with a hint of exasperation.
"Don't you know the counter-curse for Sectumsempra?!"
Quirrell was stunned, then came back to his senses.
"That's right, this spell was created by Snape. It can't be healed with normal healing spells at all."
He quickly raised his wand again. "Vulnera Sanentur!"
After casting this spell, Quirrell clearly felt the flow of his blood slow down, no longer gushing out in torrents.
"Do it two more times! How many things do you still need me to teach you?!"
Quirrell's hand holding the wand paused, then hurriedly cast two more Healing Charms.
"Vulnera Sanentur!"
"Vulnera Sanentur!"
As the second spell echoed, the bloodstains on Quirrell's body gradually disappeared, and the wounds began to heal.
It wasn't until the third spell that the wounds were completely healed.
Besides that, Dylan also knew that if he didn't want to leave scars, he would have to apply dittany to the wounds.
But in the current situation, Quirrell clearly didn't have the chance to do that.
—Probably he wouldn't care about his appearance anyway.
He was ugly enough as it was.
"Let me see around myself!"
"But Master, last time you personally intervened, it already..."
"Silence!"
Quirrell hurriedly shut his mouth, not daring to speak again.
Instead, he vigilantly stared at his surroundings while quickly taking off the turban from his head again.
Soon, a smooth head with only two narrow nostrils, resembling a snake's nostrils, and snake-like eyes reappeared.
He narrowed his eyes, controlling Quirrell's body, and raised his wand.
"This damn mirror, Dumbledore placed it here. The Philosopher's Stone that hasn't been found all this time..."
At this moment, Voldemort had completely taken over Quirrell's body.
With a light flick of his wand, without even needing to cast a spell, the Mirror of Erised in the center of the room instantly flew up, circling him, beginning to spin continuously.
Soon, when the mirror shifted to a certain position, the reflection that had only shown the room suddenly changed its image.
Clearly, even wearing an Invisibility Cloak couldn't shield one's inner urgency and desire from the Mirror of Erised.
Voldemort's cold eyes lit up.
He immediately shifted his body to the other side. Although the figure in the mirror was still empty, a warm illusion of a manor had already appeared.
Voldemort snorted coldly at the sight. "Disgusting imagination."
Just then, he saw a red stone falling from the clouds in the sky.
It finally landed on a deck chair but then suddenly disappeared.
—As if someone had stuffed it into their pocket.
Dylan, wearing the Invisibility Cloak, also suddenly felt his pocket grow heavy.
—Clearly, the Philosopher's Stone, sealed by Dumbledore's magic within the Mirror of Erised, had come into his hands through the mirror's illusion.
Dylan's lips twitched. "Why didn't Old Dumbledore just seal the Philosopher's Stone completely inside the mirror?"
Dumbledore used the Mirror of Erised to protect the Philosopher's Stone as the final test. The Stone was hidden within the mirror, and only someone who wanted to find the Stone but had no intention of using it would be able to obtain it.
This was the method Old Dumbledore had set up to acquire the Philosopher's Stone.
But…
This was also what Dylan couldn't understand.
Why not just completely seal it inside the mirror? If the mirror broke, the stone would break; if the mirror remained, the stone would remain. Wouldn't that prevent anyone, whether they wanted to use the Philosopher's Stone or find and protect it, from obtaining it through the mirror?
Now the Philosopher's Stone had inexplicably come into his hands—
[Notification]: Congratulations, you have obtained the legendary Philosopher's Stone! You have achieved a new accomplishment!
Another system notification sounded, but Dylan didn't have time to check it.
Because Voldemort's eyes were already shining like ten-thousand-watt light bulbs had been stuffed into them, flashing incessantly.
"Indeed, indeed! That old fool Dumbledore, I still found the Philosopher's Stone!"
Due to the position reflected by the Mirror of Erised, Voldemort had also roughly grasped Dylan's location.
He immediately pointed his wand.
Without needing to cast a spell at all.
The wand drew a sickly green arc of light.
Beneath his already tattered long robes, thousands of jet-black venomous snakes suddenly surged forth, scrambling out, flicking their forked tongues, intertwining and piling up, spreading in large numbers towards Dylan's direction.
The hissing sounds emitted by these magical creatures with asphalt-like scales merged into a teeth-grinding noise.
Dylan was taken aback.
"What kind of socket-board Orochimaru is this?"
Dylan wasn't too afraid of these black snakes.
Nothing a blast of Fiendfyre couldn't solve.
Of course, considering Dumbledore might be watching nearby, he didn't use dark magic—
"Partis Temporus!"
Under Professor McGonagall's careful tutelage, Dylan had basically mastered the secondary shaping of spells.
And as he extended his wand from his sleeve, instantly, a condensed form of hellfire transformed into two rolling walls of flame, rushing out.
Wherever it passed, the stone bricks vaporized, and the swarm of snakes twisted into charred ashes in the intense flames.
The pungent smell of sulfur mixed with the stench of burnt protein assaulted his nostrils.
With full mastery of Fiendfyre, Dylan's research progress on Incendio was rapid.
This Partis Temporus, although perhaps still not as powerful as Dumbledore's, had already taken shape.
Moreover, he had almost perfectly integrated the heavy damage characteristic of Fiendfyre into it.
This resulted in his Partis Temporus not just clearing a path for himself, but more often directly igniting and killing the obstructing creatures in the process of clearing the path!
"Hiss hiss!"
The screams of the black snakes rang out in patches.
Many black scales that hadn't been completely burned fell like black rain.
"You've actually mastered magic of this level?"
Voldemort hadn't expected a first-year brat to have such strong control over magic.
One had to know that the secondary shaping of spells not only meant having an extremely high degree of mastery over the spell but also required precise control over the magic.
Partis Temporus…
A meaningful light flashed in Voldemort's eyes upon seeing this spell.
"Damn Dumbledore!"
Voldemort raised his wand again.
Still without casting a spell.
However, some of the snakes rushing towards Dylan didn't actually rush towards Dylan but towards the other two sides, thus not being affected by Partis Temporus.
When they approached the walls of the room, they suddenly stopped. Under Voldemort's control, hundreds of snakes linked head to tail, their scales rubbing together, sparking dark green fire, and the black snakes actually began to transform into black walls.
As if to prevent Dylan from escaping, black snakes also hung down from the ceiling and then turned into a black wall, instantly merging with the transforming walls below.
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "This transformation..."
(End of chapter)
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