Matt deftly spun around in the air and passed under the troll's crotch and circled behind it. The behemoth staggered backwards and spun around in half a circle, like a badly overloaded truck trying to make a U-turn in a small alley. It picked up its club and swung it at where Matt had just flown over, but it didn't even touch a broom hair.

"The wind and clouds, the dragon, the sword, the sea!"

Neil took the opportunity to jump on its back and slash at the back of its neck with a round arm.

Strictly speaking, the Peachwood Sword is not a weapon, but rather a magic agent similar to a wand, but when infused with spiritual power in the right way, it can also become extremely sharp, and can split the carapace, fur, and bones of lower-level demon beasts like a hot knife slicing through butter.

But for corpse golems, that's a different story. As a "great" invention that once single-handedly subverted the moral bottom line of the cultivation realm, they are extremely resilient.

As expected, even though Neil pressed all his weight down, the blade's advance met strong resistance, and it only made an extremely shallow wound on the thick layer of lead-gray skin and was completely stuck. Dark, sticky pus and blood spurted out of the wound like oil - bloodletting is an essential part of the process of disposing of corpses, so it seems likely that this creature was processed into a corpse puppet while still alive...... It was a painful and long process.

This is actually very unreasonable, because even for the sake of efficiency, it should be given a good time before you start it, so as to avoid all kinds of accidents. The person who does this must be a novice who doesn't know anything if he doesn't have some kind of low-level taste.

Neil has reason to believe that this "newbie who doesn't know anything" is likely to be Quirrell himself. The mysterious "Lack of Virtue Dao Chief" behind him even had to deliberately make the talisman short by two, so it was hard to imagine that the other party would be willing to arrange for him to make a more troublesome corpse puppet. In contrast, Neil was more inclined to think that Quirrell had built such a thing on his own with the magic tools provided by the other party - I have to say, judging by the standards of beginners, it did a pretty good job.

The troll turned and threw another stick at him, and Neil jumped backwards on its back, narrowly dodging it. Matt, on the other hand, flew back when it turned around, striking it on the back of the head with a broomstick. The two men, human or not, worked together so well that the bulky trolls couldn't touch them. The sad truth, however, is that the reverse is true.

Neil vaguely remembered a spell invented in the late stages of the Tomb Raiding Frenzy that could be used on the corpse golem to weaken the Soul Arrest's control over the corpse, but in this case he couldn't concentrate on recalling...... What do you mean when you listen to class in the first place?!

If Professor Snape was still here, he could have taken his place and deal with the troll for a while, but I don't think it would be possible. The corpse golem is different from other trolls, it takes orders to stay in front of the door of the corridor of the restricted area, and does not easily move its position, and if it weren't for the fear that some unlucky guy (like Mr. Potter from the penalty area) will be knocked to death with a stick as he passes by, Neil would have chosen to turn and run away now - he wouldn't lose to such a stupid big guy on the foot, would he?

In contrast, it is clear that the safety of Mr. Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is more important. To put it more extremely, if he hadn't run into Snape on the way, he would have even gotten away from this guy and chased him himself, and he really didn't care if there was an unlucky guy passing by...... It might have been easier to do that, so in conclusion, Snape's presence had only increased his workload.

Snape himself, who was jumping from the trapdoor, probably never dreamed that such a black cauldron would fall from the sky.

- Okay, calm down, think about it, where did I read this?

Neil took a deep breath and took several steps back out of the club's range, then shouted at Matt, who was trying to flank him left and right, "Get it away, old horse, I'll take a few minutes - hey, if you dare to escape, I'll burn your broom shed when you turn around!" Split all the brooms inside and use them as firewood - if you don't believe me, try it!"

When Snape arrived in the room where countless keys were flying, it was

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were seen there. Weasley was unconscious or dead, slumped to the ground like mud, and Granger was trying to drag him to a broomstick, but it didn't go well, and he looked like he was about to cry - both McGonagall and Flitwick often praised the student for his diligence and good grades, but it seemed that the first-year student was not at the level of carrying a man with a levitation charm while riding a broomstick.

What he didn't know was that the main difficulty for Hermione was how to get her to ride on the broomstick without falling, and the one who didn't float the charm came second.

At the sight of the two of them, a strong sense of boredom rose in Snape's heart—a departure from his usual hostile attitude towards all Gryffindor students. Three people broke into the forbidden area, only two of them were here, and one of them had no master, and the other was unknown in his life and death, which made him feel very bad, and he would never admit it, which further aggravated the deterioration of his mood.

He slowed down, forced down his breathing a little heavily, pretended that he wasn't running all the way to the end, and said coldly to Hermione, who hadn't spotted him in the distance, "What are you doing?"

Hermione screamed in fright, and her hands subconsciously pulled back, causing Ron, who had just been half-picked up by her, to slam his head on the ground again, let out a muffled snort in a coma, and then completely stopped moving.

"S, Snape...... Professor?" Hermione turned her head stiffly like a broken robot, and the moment she saw the solemn Snape, her pupils dilated, obviously surprised, "Y-I mean you! Aren't you supposed to be stealing ...... right now?"

The corners of Snape's eyes twitched, but Hermione didn't seem to realize what she had just said, and she looked up at Snape blankly, and then at the door behind her, and then at the door that led to the depths, her face full of confusion.

"But...... If that's not you, who is that thief?"

After watching Hermione walk past the purple wall of fire on his way back, Harry took a deep breath and uncorked the small bottle in his hand, pouring out the little liquid that was left inside. He wasn't sure how long this little bite would last, so he didn't dare to delay even a second, and hurriedly rushed towards the black flames in front of him.

The pitch-black flames licked his body, but he didn't feel any heat, just squinted at the countless pulsing sparks in front of him. When his sight returned, Harry found himself standing in the final room.

And it wasn't the first to arrive.

Quirrell, the always trembling, chattering Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, was standing on the platform at the other end of the room, looking at him with a strange smile.

"You?" Harry was almost out of breath in astonishment. Neil and Hagrid's insistence gave him a faint idea for a moment that Snape might indeed not be the traitor, but he never thought that the man he was trying to find out would be Quirrell.

Quirrell smiled, and that smile was very comfortable, not at all like usual.

"It's me." He said blandly, "I was wondering if I would meet you here, Potter."

"But I thought—Snape ......"

"Snape?" Quirrell laughed, his voice creepy, "Snape is just an idiot, and he can't even figure out who is supposed to serve his master!"

He said hatefully, and then suddenly the conversation changed.

"But he works, doesn't he? He flew around like a giant bat, disgusting everyone without care. With such a guy who doesn't look like a good guy out there, who would doubt the Quirrell, the professor, who is but, but, pitiful, knot, stammering?"

With that, he burst out laughing. Harry felt like he was about to lose his thoughts, and he watched in disbelief.

"But Snape once wanted to kill me!"

"No, no, no, poor boy, it's I who wanted to kill you—I put a curse on you during that Quidditch match, and if Snape hadn't been there trying to counter me, I would have killed you."

"Snape wants to save me

？」

"Of course." Quirrell said coldly, "I still can't figure out why my spell suddenly failed at that time, and what kind of tricks did you swipe?"

It seems that he hasn't noticed Neil yet. Harry thought, biting his lip and taking a step back.

Quirrell looked at him and sneered, "Forget it, you know what? It's all a waste of time, because you're going to die here today anyway."

He snapped his fingers. Several ropes came out of thin air from under Harry's feet, tying him up in a knot.

"Alright, wait quietly, Potter, my master will take care of you himself later. Now, I need to take a closer look at this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry noticed what was standing behind Quirrell. It is the Mirror of Eris.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Philosopher's Stone." Quirrell muttered, tapping his hand along the frames around him, "Only Dumbledore could get something like this...... I waited a long time to take advantage of his absence from school...... But where is the stone hidden......

Quirrell circled around the mirror, eventually focusing his gaze on the mirror, his eyes becoming greedy.

"Aha, I see the Philosopher's Stone...... I'm offering it to my master, but how am I going to take it out?"

Harry tried desperately to break free from the ropes that bound him, but he got tighter and tighter. He didn't know what the point of doing that was, but he had to stop Quirrell from focusing all of his attention on the Magic Mirror.

"But I thought Snape hated me to the core."

"Oh, that's true." Quirrell said nonchalantly, "Oh my God, of course he hates you. He studied at Hogwarts with your father, don't you know? The two of them hate each other and don't share each other's sky. But he never wants you dead...... I guess so."

"You mentioned your master...... Who is he?" Harry racked his brains to keep looking for a topic, "I don't see anyone else here."

Quirrell's face changed, and he glared at Harry fiercely.

"Be respectful, Potter." A tremor of fear and anger flashed across Quirrell's face, "You're talking about the greatest wizard of all time!"

"He's with me wherever I go," he said to himself, "and I met him as I traveled the world. I was a stupid boy with a ridiculous idea of right and wrong. It's him! It was the Dark Lord who pointed out my mistake! There is no such thing as good or evil in the world, only those who hold power, and those who are incompetent who cannot gain power...... Since then, I have served him faithfully. But I've disappointed him many times, and he's always been very me......

Quirrell shuddered, but remained immersed in his own world, pacing back and forth in front of the mirror. Harry was trembling as well, he didn't miss the name he had just blurted out.

"He never forgives me for my mistakes easily. He was very upset when I failed to steal the Philosopher's Stone from Gringotts. He punished me and decided to spy on me more closely......

"You broke into Gringotts?"

"I didn't do it myself." Quirrell smiled dismissively, "Actually, I should have gone myself! That waste can't do anything, and it's desirable to have only loyalty left in the body...... But it doesn't matter, I will prove at once who is the best servant of my master."

Ignoring Harry, he raised his arms high in front of the mirror.

"What's the matter with this mirror? What secrets does it hide? Thy humble servant beseeches thee, help me, master!"

Harry heard a muffled voice speak, and was horrified to find that it seemed to be coming from Quirrell's own body. He couldn't make out what was being said, but Quirrell clearly understood.

"Yes...... Yes, take advantage of that boy...... Of course, take advantage of that boy." He turned to Harry, "Okay, Potter, come up here—the master has spoken. I'm glad I didn't kill you last time, right?"

He clapped his hands again, and the ropes that bound Harry came free of their own accord. Harry stood slowly

Standing up, rubbing his wrist full of red marks while vigilantly keeping his distance from him.

"Come up here." Quirrell said again, "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see—if you dare to play tricks, I'll show you some color."

Harry had no choice but to stagger towards him, hoping that Hermione and Ron would be able to bring the rescuers back in the paltry amount of time they had earned - it might have been unrealistic to expect Dumbledore to come back, but perhaps one of the professors happened to be nearby, even Snape. Oh, by the way, in a Quidditch match, Neil seems to have played off Quirresh's spell, how did he do that?

Harry was stunned for a moment, and he suddenly remembered what Neil had said in the empty classroom near the library on Christmas Day, the night he had just gotten his invisibility cloak.

He walked over to the mirror and hesitantly looked up at it, where there were no more images of his parents, instead Harry in the mirror had a red stone in his hand, smiled and shook it at him, and put it in his pants pocket.

Harry felt horrified, and at the same time, something really rolled into his pocket. Quirrell stood right behind him, watching his every move, he didn't dare put his hand in his pocket to check what it was, and he didn't seem to need to.

Great.

He thought numbly.

You just shoved this thing to me?! Now what do you want me to do?! Fight with him?!

"Huh?" Quirrell seemed impatient, and couldn't help but push him from behind, "What, what do you see?"

Harry was about to face his final decision.