By the time Harry came to his senses, his friends had already made a move.

Ron Weasley.

With his excellent physical fitness, he didn't come into contact with Professor Quirrell at all, let alone pass by him.

Grabbing the fence on the staircase with both hands, he flipped over and came straight to the closed office door.

The door was unlocked, and no magic was applied to it, and with a gentle push from Ron, the house was completely pushed open.

But before he could enter the room, the more violent smell of garlic and other medicinal smells came to his face, making him frown wildly and feel his eyes hurt.

"This taste...... What is this? ”

After looking around, Ron saw a pot on his modest desk.

An unpaid fire was floating under the pot, heating it, and the bubbles that bubbled out of it even emitted a dark green stickiness.

At the same time, Quirrell's weak voice came from under the stairs:

"Some of the medicine I brewed myself must have smelled bad...... After cooking it all night, the thing was already cooked. ”

It didn't just smell bad, it got to my eyes.

Ron wanted to say this, but when he looked back and saw the professor's frail appearance, he swallowed back all the incoherent gibberish words.

"Anyway, it's a packet of powder in the office, right?"

"Yes."

Quirrell whispered.

"Right on the table, very conspicuous, a packet of silver powder."

"Silver ......"

As Quirrell said, the pack of powder was easy to find.

Even though Ron hadn't learned how to look closely, he could still see it at a glance.

"That's it."

Grabbing the silver bag of powder, Ron made his way out of his spacious office.

"Professor, I got it!"

"Rip it apart...... Sprinkle it on me, just remember to sprinkle a little. ”

"Oh, oh, oh."

"It's enough to remember a little, this is very precious, just a little!"

Under Quirrell's advice, Ron also realized the seriousness of the matter.

But the problem is that he still doesn't take it lightly, and his own personality is not much calm.

Shake your hand, and put your hand down.

'Thorny'

"Don't!"

In Quirrell's almost remorseful gaze, the seemingly airtight bag was extremely fragile, and it was directly brutally dismembered by the Weasley children.

At the same time, the white powder sprinkled Quirrell on his face.

There was no wind in the closed classroom, and the powder naturally did not take the initiative to spread evenly, so Quirrell's already somewhat pale face was covered by a silvery white powder.

Even, because of the previous reminder, a considerable part of the powder still went into Quirrell's mouth.

“…… I'm sorry, Professor. ”

Seeing Quirrell's embarrassed appearance, Ron couldn't help but feel a hint of apology emanating from his heart.

"Professor, I'm sorry."

Before he could say anything more, a cloud of black smoke emanated from the professor in front of him.

The eyes, nose, ears, mouth, and seven hollows in the head suddenly emitted a large amount of smoke.

Although they couldn't quite understand what the situation was, the young wizards could really feel as if something had been stripped away.

"Professor, you ......"

"It's fine."

Before they could say anything more, Professor Quirrell seemed to have regained some strength.

After a little help on the turban, which seemed to never be removed, he finally stood up.

"Professor......

Seeing Quirrell's still pale look like a sick ghost, Harry couldn't help but speak.

But before he could say anything, Quirrell shook his head.

"I know what you're here for, Mr. Potter."

Pulling out his wand from his sleeve, Quirrell casually locked the door of the classroom, which was still open, with a casual flick of his hand.

"It's just that I still have a little personal business to do, so if I don't mind, just wait a little bit in the classroom, my office...... You may not want to come in. ”

Absolutely.

Ron had been to Quirrell's office once, and he still felt his eyes sour.

And looking at the unspeakable appearance he was showing now, neither Hermione nor Harry dismissed the idea of entering Quirrell's office to have a look.

The three children sat obediently in the first row of their desks, while Quirrell spent about ten minutes in the office.

Soon, he came out of the office again, with a drink in his hand, and it seemed that there was only this one.

"My cup is a potion."

Meeting the gazes of the three children, Quirrell spoke.

"I'd like to have some snacks or juice for you, but I smell of garlic in my room, and you probably won't be able to eat it."

This is also true.

But in fact, the three children are not people who care about the kind of superficial etiquette.

When Quirrell sat down, Harry couldn't wait to speak:

"Professor Quirrell, I'm here to ...... this time."

"I know, Mr. Potter, I know."

Interrupting Harry again, Quirrell nodded slowly.

"I think you have a lot of doubts in your hearts."

Completely devoid of the sluggishness and stupidity of class, Quirrell just closed his eyes and said in a fluent tone.

"What the hell is going on with Professor Snape?"

"He's a Death Eater."

Almost without thinking about it, Quirrell whispered.

"But the newspaper said that Headmaster Dumbledore had testified for him, and that he was delivering news for the Headmaster."

“…… At least that's later,"

Slowly drinking the silver liquid in his hand, Quirrell replied calmly.

"At least, that's what it used to be...... What happened after the fall of the mysterious man. ”

Then he looked at Harry, and the look was calm, calm enough to make Harry feel flustered.

"What's wrong, Professor Quirrell?"

"Speaking of which, this has something to do with you, Harry."

"Me? But I don't remember much of these things myself. ”

Harry couldn't help but cover the inexplicably painful lightning scar, and Harry couldn't help but purse his lips.

"Even though a lot of people call me a savior or something, I don't really remember what happened at the time."

"I'm not talking about you killing the mystery man, Mr. Potter, and while many people praise you as a savior, have you ever considered it...... Why did the mystery man suddenly appear in your home? ”

"I ......"

When Quirrell's question came to him, Harry only felt his head buzz.

And it was at this time that he heard the next sentence:

"It's all about Snape, Mr. Potter."

"What did you say?!"

When it came to his parents, he even lost the ability to think and couldn't help but scream.

Quirrell just waved his hand, and the weakness of his face made Harry unable to stop talking.

"I'm sorry Professor, I'm just ......"

"It's all right, Mr. Potter, anyway, it's a simple but somewhat long story, and it all starts with a prophecy, Mr. Potter, are you interested in learning about it?"