Hogwarts: Harry Returns from the Witcher

Chapter 30 Meet

The footprints at the door became shallower, and some dust fell.

At least two hours.

There was some soft music in the room. He poked his head in and looked around carefully—a harp was playing on the ground, accompanied by the sound of a sleeping three-headed dog.

On it, the trapdoor is opened, revealing a path leading underground.

Apart from the two of them, there is no other magic aura.

He drew his sword and went in.

When he reached the trapdoor, he didn't jump down in a hurry, but bent down to look. Even if there was no light, his vision was still unobstructed—the vines, the dark blue tentacles-like roots, were the devil's net.

And under the devil's net, there are no other plants.

Is this just for...buffering?
He jumped down with confidence, and the devil's net immediately entangled him.

With a wave of his hand, he used the Sign of Igni, and sparks flew - the vines receded immediately, leaving Harry behind, hitting the ground less than one meter away.

Going forward, there are dense and tiny magical breaths, they flutter their wings, buzzing and flying in the air.

Harry could see clearly that there were keys, and a broom was thrown beside the locked door leading to the next room. It was self-evident how to pass this level.

He is good at flying.

But he is not in the mood to play flying games at this time.

Walking to the door, he waved his wand: "Alahoo hole is open!"

Nothing happened, a counter-curse was cast on it.

"Open the door!" Harry said another spell.

With a bang, the door lock exploded, and black smoke billowed out. Harry stretched out his hand and pulled the door, but the door remained motionless.

The anti-curse is really complete.

Harry clicked his tongue and put his hand on the door—"Alder!"

There were a few clicks, and a crack was born. Harry kicked it again, and the board flew around—isn't this much faster than riding a broom?

The third room is very magnificent.

A huge chessboard with pieces as tall as him.

Harry had a headache, playing cards... He was very good at playing chess, but he was a bit reluctant to play chess. He walked around the chessboard, reached the door, stretched out his hand, but the door couldn't be opened.

He planned to use the method just now, but he just cast the Alder Seal.

Violating the rules of what to do, the magic in the house surged violently.

clack clack-

The chess pieces came to life, they shook, and they rushed towards Harry with the knife or gun in their hands.

Looks like it's time for a fight!

Harry raised his hand, put a layer of Quen shield on himself, cat pounced, rolled, and went around to another place, swung the silver sword, and cut off the bishop's head with one sword.

These are just rigid deformed constructs.

Some trouble, but not much.

In less than 10 minutes, the ground was full of broken chess pieces.

There wasn't a single wound on Harry's body, and he wasn't even sweating much.

In the room, the magic power continued to surge, and the pieces of chess pieces squirmed and gathered together. They had a self-repair mechanism, and within half an hour at most, they would return to the appearance Harry saw at the beginning.

He blasted open the door and entered the next room.

There was a stench blowing in his face. There was a corpse of a troll lying in the middle of the room. Harry leaned over to check it. The corpse was still warm, and the death time did not exceed an hour.

No wounds.

Traces of the Killing Curse...

Cut off the troll's beard, stuffed it into the hat as the Sorting Hat complained, and rushed to the next room without stopping.

A table with seven bottles of potions of different shapes placed on it.

There was still a powerful magic power lingering around the room, which was aroused the moment he fully stepped into the room, and the surrounding walls and two gates were all wrapped in black flames.

Not Fiendfire.

There is no strong curse breath, but it is very scorching, and the restrained temperature is astonishingly high, not to the extent that you can rush over without thinking with a shield.

Harry walked to the table, besides the potion, there was also a piece of paper with a logical reasoning question written in scrawled handwriting, which was obviously written by Snape.

He loves to use this kind of method that idiots can't do, and smart people have to put in a lot of effort, and then look at other people's desperation, and sneer at "a brain like a troll".

Witchers most often use sigils and swords to solve problems.

This doesn't mean they don't have brains, it's just that it's more convenient-sometimes they have brains, but it doesn't mean that others must also have brains.

Soon, he picked out the correct potion, drank it, and walked through the flames to the next and last room.

The furnishings here are simpler.

There was only a gorgeous full-length mirror, and his target was standing in front of the mirror, looking at it greedily, with a blushing glow of happiness on his face.

He was intoxicated in the dreamland of his own imagination.

"Idiot! Someone came in!" A hoarse voice sounded, scolding a little anxiously.

Quirrell turned his head sharply, but saw nothing.

"The Invisibility Cloak, it's Potter!" The hoarse voice sounded sharply again.

Quirrell waved his wand: "Hurricane!"

Harry pulled off his cloak and stuffed it back into his hat.

Kilo drew a long voice: "Potter, I thought it would be someone else, such as Snape, who is always hindering me."

"Meet you again." Harry nodded at him, "It seems that you are recovering well, your waist is healed?"

Quirrell's face immediately became ugly: "You are so sharp-tongued, you can always see you where you shouldn't be seen, is Dumbledore's second hand?"

"A little first-year wizard? You look down on me too much..."

"Maybe I don't even use it." Harry shrugged. "It seems that you haven't found the Philosopher's Stone yet? It's been a long time."

"Potter!" Quirrell raised his wand with trembling hands, "Maybe you didn't suffer enough that night?"

Harry sneered: "The person who was stabbed by me has no right to say such a thing."

He was about to cast a spell, and a hoarse voice sounded: "Let me meet him."

Quirrell's face became terrified: "No, master, you haven't recovered yet..."

"Hurry up." The hoarse voice sounded again, "I'm not that weak yet."

Quirrell raised his hand tremblingly, and unwrapped the smelly turban that had been wrapped around his head. As the turban fell to the ground, he also turned around.

Bald head - the only hairless wizard Harry had ever seen.

There is a face on the back of the head, no nose, only two narrow nostrils, and a pair of snake-like eyes: "Potter, we finally meet."

"Voldemort?" Harry clenched his sword tightly, adding another layer of Quinn shield to himself, "You look really ugly."

"I finally know why you can detect my movements. It turns out...you have been staying in this place."

"Why are you so nervous?" Voldemort sneered, "You are the savior who defeated me, the savior of the supreme and great Dark Lord."

Speaking of this, he paused: "I'm left with only shadow and steam, and I have to share a body with my servant!"

Harry added, slyly: "And having to stay in a stinky hood all day, no wonder you don't have a nose."

Quirrell shook his body, Voldemort's face had almost no facial features, but it was still twisted ferociously: "Potter, we can talk."

"I can see that you have ambitions, even if you go to Gryffindor - look, how beautiful your eyes are, and my Nagini has such eyes."

"That's my most precious pet snake."

"We can cooperate and share the Philosopher's Stone. That stone has magical powers and can resurrect the dead. Don't you want to resurrect your parents?"

His words are full of delusion.

"Some people say my eyes are like a cat's, while others say my eyes are like a lion's." Harry responded coldly, "Do you know what cats and lions have in common?"

Voldemort said nothing, but squinted at him.

"Anyone can catch snakes." Harry asked himself and answered.

Voldemort controlled Quirrell's body and walked to the mirror: "Do you know why Dumbledore left this mirror here?"

Harry said nothing.

Voldemort continued: "It is the Mirror of Erised, which can reflect people's inner desires, the most essential desires."

"Do you know what I saw?"

"Sorcerer's Stone, I have regained my body and become the omnipotent Dark Lord again."

"Don't you want to see what your desire is?"

Harry shook his head: "Thanks, but I'm not interested."

Voldemort waved his wand, and the mirror flew in front of Harry, and even though he dodged, it still reflected him.

In the mirror, his reflection was retained, blinked at him, took out a red stone that did not belong to him and did not exist from his pocket, and put it back in his pocket.

The phantom in the mirror affects reality.

Harry felt something heavy fall into his pocket - no doubt it was the Philosopher's Stone.

This made his face darken.

Voldemort was overjoyed: "Sure enough, Dumbledore tricked me again, but he miscalculated after all, and hand over the Philosopher's Stone!"

He waved his wand without even saying a spell.

From under his robe, a large number of black and blue snakes crawled out, towards Harry.

Igni!
Harry used the seal, and the flames surged, devouring the piece of black snake, and waved his wand again, and the blue flames surged, which was harmless, but at least...it could cover some sight.

It is not the snake that is dangerous.

The moment Harry moved, he ran in a different direction, a snake grunted and changed, forming a wall, if this way didn't work, then go the other way, his center of gravity deflected—and at the same time.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort uttered the spell, and the Killing Curse hit Harry in the most likely direction to retreat—there are many dark wizards who can release the Killing Curse, but the reason why Voldemort became the Dark Lord is because...he can guarantee that every The Death Curse can hit as many people as possible.

Harry thrust his sword into the ground and pushed it hard, barely dodging it.

Alder made a seal and smashed it against the wall.

The magic power was shattered and scattered everywhere.

Fortunately, this is not the Forbidden Forest, but just a small room. Harry moved left and right, and quickly got close to him, slashing his sword, aiming at Quirrell in the middle.

shhh-

Twice in a hurry.

Voldemort looked playfully at Harry, who was close to him, and pointed his wand at it: "It's useless, I know you can use a sword, and I have already prepared myself for it."

"Goodbye, Potter."

"Ava—"

Before he finished speaking, Harry clenched his fist with the other hand and waved it towards Voldemort: "Really? Did you ever think that I would still use my fist?"

scoff-

The skin on the back of the head exploded piercingly, like a scald, and a bunch of blisters bulged out.

Harry's scar also ached sharply.

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　　Pinch your waist, I'm a little slow, sorry

　　
　
(End of this chapter)