Quirrell hurried through the corridor on the eighth floor. It was class time, and there were very few students wandering around, but he still seemed very cautious.

Quirrell had always been a man of seclusion, and his conceit of talent and social treatment that did not match it made him very disgusted with those who were so-called blind and unwilling to participate in unnecessary social activities. After being named the defence-the-dark arts teacher by Dumbledore, he was so moved that he wanted to change his personality for a while, and even went to the dark forests of Albania alone to try to exercise his courage, eloquence, and experience in fighting dangerous magic, but the result was ...... Well, the word 'in the opposite direction' is apt here.

Returning, Quirrell became more withdrawn than before, substituting groveling sneers for communication, fleeing everyone he met with the momentum of a ruined ship, as if saying a good morning would kill him. Colleagues and students alike have become familiar with this, and when they occasionally meet him in the hallway, they consciously end the conversation with the briefest possible greeting to avoid leaving both parties in agony.

However, he was not running away from the pleasantries right now. The eighth floor was too far away from his classroom and office, and was clearly beyond his usual range of activities. Quirrell was reluctant to be seen here, lest he attract unwanted curiosity—one of the most excesses of Hogwarts students.

Last night's little commotion ended innocently with a Ravenclaw student, much to Quirrell's surprise. He thought it was a strategy to paralyze himself, but it didn't seem to be the case.

The attack on Snape's pantry was a complete last resort, and Quirrell had prepared for suspicion and prepared a whole set of alibi for this purpose - he had spent the whole night in his office, pretending to fiddle with all kinds of amulets, and as soon as Snape pointed the finger at him, he would immediately pretend to be panicked and hand over the memory.

As for what he did "before" and "after", there was no need to show it to others...... Quirrell himself was not an expert in Occlumency, but his master's protection was enough to protect him from prying eyes.

The owner thinks highly of Severus Snape as a person, even though he is a man who has lost power after the old master (huh?!). No, I beg your pardon, I didn't mean that...... I mean, the little guy who turned his head and wagged his tail at Dumbledore after a temporary setback, but he was also a thoughtful, intuitive little guy who felt very tricky. It's just that no matter how suspicious he was, he wouldn't have thought of where Quirrell had gotten the extra help.

Carefully dodging possible students along the way, he finally reached his destination.

On the wall in front of him was an old moth-eaten tapestry of a male ballet dancer being beaten up by trolls—the tapestry, commonly known by students as "The Troll Sticks Beat the Fool of Barnabatu," had been described by Neil Wan as "the author's mental state was worrying," but Quirrell had a close affinity for it, as training trolls was one of his rare and recognized specialties.

Shortly after the start of the school year, Dumbledore suddenly summoned a number of professors, including him, to reveal that he had stored an important item in the restricted area on the fourth floor, and invited each of them to design an insurance mechanism for it, and Quirrell contributed a troll guard that he had trained himself - these large men over three meters tall were stupid and brutal, but they were very strong and easy to raise, they could eat everything from kitchen waste to keepers, and could be trained to do some simple jobs related to violence.

Dumbledore didn't say a word about what the so-called important object was, but Quirrell could have guessed that he had ventured into Dumbledore's private vault at Gringotts not long ago, only to find nothing, and that the contents must have been transferred here in advance - it was the ultimate crystallization of wizarding wisdom, a piece that would allow his master to escape his current half-dead state and no longer have to lie on the corpse of a beast to suck blood...... Or maybe no more treasures that Quirrell had to rub the back of his head against the neck of the unicorn corpse.

If he could take this opportunity to get his hands on it, Quirrell would undoubtedly gain the supreme favor of his master. But stealing under Dumbledore's nose is no better than dealing with pointy-eared misers, and it can't be done without careful planning, not to mention dealing with obstacles set by other professors on the way—Quirrell saw the big hunting ground keeper smuggle a three-headed dog into the restricted area one night at the headmaster's behest, and the troll was like a doll in a nursery.

Luckily, Quirrell also has his own strengths.

He took a deep breath, re-checked that there was no one on the left and right, closed his eyes and paced back and forth under the base of the wall opposite the tapestry. Left to right, then right to left, left to right...... When he turned back for the third time, two heavy wooden doors suddenly appeared on the otherwise empty walls, large enough to accommodate a four-wheeled carriage to enter and exit.

One of the many legends that have been passed down through Hogwarts Castle is the mysterious room known as the "Room of Requirement", which says that if you walk back and forth three times with some strong idea in mind, a door will appear in the wall and a room will open to you perfectly.

When a rumor spreads, it's no longer a secret, but Quirrell doesn't worry about revealing it at all. The magic of the Room of Requirement is that it reflects exactly what each person's desires are, and if a newcomer wants to see the secret that Quirrell is hiding within, they must know what the secret is in advance so that the room can reveal it - it's a very simple loop.

He struggled to push the door open a crack, and in an instant, a pungent stench poured out of it, but Quirrell didn't even frown, and quickly squeezed in and closed the door with his backhand.

Dumbledore knew about the trolls he had brought into the castle, but didn't seem to care how many he had brought with him - in fact, Hogwarts had always been flawed in this regard, with little to no one caring about what the students brought into the school except for the dutiful Filch, and the Filch didn't bother to pay attention to the teacher, who couldn't be whipped even if he was caught in possession of contraband.

This is the result.

In a cramped, straw-paved, stable-like room, seven or eight trolls lay huddled together, belching and farting in their sleep, and the smell of sweat, bad breath, and some more terrible smell permeated the small space.

Quirrell cautiously stepped across the ...... on the ground Stuff, go to the deepest part of the stable. On a haystack that had blackened and rotted, and stinking like everything else, slumped an extraordinarily fat troll.

It had a long silver needle stuck in its forehead, and the blood vessels in the skin near the eye of the needle had burst out, and there were already slight signs of festering; Around his neck hung a large string of rough yellow paper, on which were written in red paint in dense oriental characters; The stinky feet had a silent brass bell tied to each of their ankles; Even the sticks that were reclining beside him were tightly wrapped in a white cloth full of red lines like ghost drawings.

Normally, only carnival samba dancers look so flamboyant, but of course, Quirrell didn't dress it up for fun. The long needle pierced into the forehead allowed Quirrell to remotely control its movements from a distance; Yellow paper with text written on it makes the user's figure invisible before it burns out; The footbell is the most magical one, just by striking it gently, a black mist will pour out of it, wiping all the traces left behind you; The stick, wrapped in white cloth, was endowed with the power to destroy the spell's protection.

All the support from the mysterious helper was used by him on this troll.

Quirrell was conceited to have a wealth of knowledge in the realm of magic, but he had never heard of such a strange magical object before. Although he didn't trust the strange Oriental man who hid his face at all, and even more so offended by the terms of the deal he wanted to get a piece of his master's spoils, he had to admit that the other party was indeed a sophisticated user of magic.

With the help of these magical items, his actions through the layers of mechanisms would be much easier, but before he did, Quirrell still wanted to find out as much as he could, after all, his master's orders must not be missed. Besides, even if he succeeds, he must escape from Hogwarts as soon as possible, and before that, there is one more thing that must be done.

"Harry Potter ......"

He muttered something quietly.

Since the master wants him to die, then it must be so. Shooting an Avada Curse at his unsuspecting back is a simple question, the question is how to make things seem like an accident - it will take time for the master to regain his original strength, and then regather his men to reign again with unstoppable momentum. And at least until the first step of the process is achieved, Quirrell can't allow himself to be made a prisoner.

As darkness rises again, he, Quirinus Quirrell, will become his master's most trusted subordinate, and his once-unrecognized talents will be rightly evaluated...... Thinking of this, a grim light flashed in his eyes.

"Yes, host...... Rest assured, things will be done soon. I...... What? Oh, yes! Yes, master, I will take you out of this stinking place at once! No, please don't——! ”