Chapter 97: Quirrell: Who Stole What Should Have Been Mine?!
Dylan walked towards the next room.
"Professor Snape's setup, a truly familiar scent."
As soon as Dylan entered, he sensed the aura of potions.
At the same time, a dark black flame appeared on the surface of the walls in the room.
Even the two large doors were burning under the influence of magic—yet these flames did not directly corrode or burn the walls and doors.
It was as if the flames were burning on the walls without touching any material.
"What kind of flame is this?"
Dylan could clearly feel that this flame was not the Fiendfyre he was familiar with, because the evil scent within it was too faint, not resembling any vicious curse.
However, the scorching heat emanating from it was quite intense, clearly not ordinary flames.
"Why hasn't Professor Snape shown me this trick before?"
Dylan curled his lip.
Usually, when brewing potions, Dylan had never seen what kind of flame Professor Snape used to heat the potions.
—Most of the time, Professor Snape would choose to let him light the fire directly.
Otherwise, he would use the flame from the cauldron.
—Professor Snape's cauldron was much more advanced than his, not only able to ignite automatically but also capable of emitting cold air to quickly cool down potions at certain times, achieving some effects Professor Snape desired.
"But this kind of flame is not Fiendfyre after all; it can be blocked by a normal protective shield."
Dylan ignored the black flames.
They didn't seem very threatening, but Dylan didn't plan to test the strength of these flames.
—Who knew if that perverted guy Professor Snape had hidden any tricks in his spells.
Looking at the table ahead, Dylan saw seven bottles of potions.
Besides that, there was a piece of paper placed beside them.
The handwriting on it was quite scrawled, and needless to say, it looked like something a proud and arrogant maniac would write casually.
—Dylan clearly sensed the disdain and indifference of the person who wrote these words from the font on the paper.
"Let me see." Dylan looked down at it.
There was a riddle on the paper.
The content was—
Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, two of us will help you, whichever you would find.
One among us seven will let you go forward, one among our number will return you once more.
Two among our band are just nettle wine, three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore.
To help you in your choice, here are some clues all:
Though poison be the one, nettle wine gives no sting;
First, the three on the left as safe as they can be;
Second, the end of each line will help you in your choice.
Third, neither brave nor wise should drink from the left;
Fourth, the second from the left and the second from the right are different at first sight, but once you've tried them, though different they may seem, will tell you the same.
Dylan glanced at it briefly, a sneer on his lips.
"Professor Snape is still so... so skillful."
He used a logical problem to directly stump the idiots, while those who could understand it had to think deeply and carefully to figure it out.
Then, he would stand coldly aside, watching how the person solving the riddle was troubled by it and how they racked their brains to think about the problem he had set.
He would then float over with a casual remark—truly quite foolish!
In fact, Dylan would occasionally chat about some unrelated topics with Professor Snape during their weekly potion brewing sessions and when asking Professor Snape questions about potions.
—Basically, Professor Snape would use sarcasm to say some knowledge that seemed worth noting.
During this process, Dylan had long since become accustomed to and even immune to Professor Snape's sharp tongue.
And sometimes, his words would even leave Professor Snape speechless.
However, he was quite familiar with Professor Snape's style. Dylan would sometimes encounter these logical reasoning problems when chatting with Professor Snape about unrelated topics.
Coupled with the fact that he was inherently a logical person, he quickly deduced the answer based on the riddle set by Professor Snape.
From left to right, the seven potions were poison, nettle wine, the potion to pass through the black flames, poison, poison, nettle wine, and the potion to return through the purple flames.
First, according to clue one, the three on the left are as safe as can be, directly establishing the positional relationship between poison and nettle wine.
From this, it can be initially determined that the rightmost one is not poison.
Because if the rightmost potion were poison, there would be no nettle wine to its right.
And according to clue two, the end of each line will help you in your choice. This clue is a bit misleading as it doesn't directly point to a specific potion but hints at the overall structure of the riddle.
Clue three, neither brave nor wise should drink from the left, indicates that the leftmost potion is not the one to move forward.
Clue four, the second from the left and the second from the right are different at first sight, but once you've tried them, though different they may seem, will tell you the same, suggests that these two have a similar effect, and given the options, they are likely the poisons.
Considering there are three poisons, two nettle wines, one forward potion, and one return potion,
It can be easily determined that one end is poison and the other is nettle wine.
Combining the clues, the leftmost is the return potion (as it's not for going forward), the second from the left is poison (as it's "safe" in the sense of not being the immediate forward or backward potion), the middle one is the forward potion (the remaining one that isn't poison or nettle wine), the second from the right is also poison (matching the "same" effect as the second from the left), and the rightmost is nettle wine (as the poison is to its left). This leaves the remaining two as poisons.
Therefore, from left to right: Return Potion, Poison, Nettle Wine, Poison, Poison, Nettle Wine, Forward Potion.
"Too simple, Professor Snape. Your logical reasoning problems are still a bit crude and simplistic, not as thought-provoking as my 'chicken or the egg' dilemma."
After easily obtaining the forward potion, a smile couldn't help but appear on Dylan's lips.
He still remembered when they were discussing hatching, Dylan had asked Professor Snape this question, leaving the professor stunned for a long time.
Opening the bottle and directly drinking the forward potion, Dylan stepped out of the black flames and instantly arrived in the next room.
"Is this the last room?"
Dylan looked at the furnishings around him. They were quite simple, not resembling any special setup.
Because in the very center of the room, there was only a Mirror of Erised.
A man with a turban wrapped around his head was staring greedily at the image in the mirror, his eyes overflowing with excited and agitated light.
—Clearly, Quirrell had already become immersed in the wonderful illusions the mirror had created for him.
Until…
"Stop looking at your pathetic life! Someone has gotten through the flames!"
"What?!"
Quirrell, jolted back to reality by the hoarse and low voice coming from the back of his head, shuddered violently and immediately turned around to look behind him.
However, he scanned left and right but saw nothing.
"It's either Potter or that brat who used the Cruciatus Curse on you. Stop spacing out, you damn fool! Do you want to try the taste of an Unforgivable Curse again?!"
There was a clear hint of exasperation in the hoarse voice.
He still remembered when they were discussing hatching, Dylan had asked Professor Snape this question, leaving the professor stunned for a long time.
Opening the bottle and directly drinking the forward potion, Dylan stepped out of the black flames and instantly arrived in the next room.
"Is this the last room?"
Dylan looked at the furnishings around him. They were quite simple, not resembling any special setup.
Because in the very center of the room, there was only a Mirror of Erised.
A man with a turban wrapped around his head was staring greedily at the image in the mirror, his eyes overflowing with excited and agitated light.
—Clearly, Quirrell had already become immersed in the wonderful illusions the mirror had created for him.
Until…
"Stop looking at your pathetic life! Someone has gotten through the flames!"
"What?!"
Quirrell, jolted back to reality by the hoarse and low voice coming from the back of his head, shuddered violently and immediately turned around to look behind him.
However, he scanned left and right but saw nothing.
"It's either Potter or that brat who used the Cruciatus Curse on you. Stop spacing out, you damn fool! Do you want to try the taste of an Unforgivable Curse again?!"
There was a clear hint of exasperation in the hoarse voice.
Dylan, hidden beneath the Invisibility Cloak, almost burst out laughing.
"Avis!"
Quirrell had clearly learned his lesson from last time. Realizing that the person might be the one who had cast forty-four, or even more, Cruciatus Curses on him in the Forbidden Forest, his whole body shuddered violently, and the hand holding his wand trembled uncontrollably.
He immediately cast the Bird-Charming Charm, attempting to reveal the person wearing the Invisibility Cloak.
But Dylan kept the cloak firmly in place.
No matter how desperately Quirrell used his magic, he couldn't move the cloak even slightly.
"Are you afraid of me?"
Dylan's voice was almost completely different from his usual tone.
When it suddenly sounded, Quirrell shuddered again.
"Who?!"
Quirrell suddenly looked towards the source of Dylan's voice. "Stop playing tricks on me! Do you think I'm really afraid of you? It's ridiculous!"
Dylan chuckled. "Whether you're afraid or not is up to you. After taking dozens of my Cruciatus Curses head-on, you're still alive and kicking, and even recovered so quickly. I really have to admire you."
Quirrell's expression twisted.
"You... who exactly are you! Why is your mastery of the Unforgivable Curses so profound? This shouldn't even be possible!"
After he and Dylan parted ways in the Forbidden Forest last time, heaven knew what kind of pain he had endured afterward!
However, it seemed that precisely because his pain intensified, the power of the curse within his body deepened.
The one on the back of his head, although also feeling the power of the Cruciatus Curse to some extent along with him, had recovered some strength due to the deepening of the curse's power.
This level of power recovery was even more exaggerated than the blood of the unicorn he had released!
He was puzzled.
Who exactly was the Dark Lord?
How could another mysterious person's Unforgivable Curse actually increase the real mysterious person's health points, no, his strength?
This was too un-dark magic!
Outrageous!
"Hehe, what are you talking about? I don't understand at all."
Dylan wasn't stupid.
Old Dumbledore might be hiding somewhere nearby right now. He remembered Dumbledore intervening in the end, right?
So the other party might have already returned.
Otherwise, the other party could return at any time—distance was not a restriction for Old Dumbledore at all.
Hogwarts had a layer of enchantment that could prevent ordinary people from Apparating.
This enchantment was the Anti-Apparition Charm.
However, as everyone knew, this was a restriction on ordinary people.
Whether it was a phoenix or a house-elf, their Apparition was different from that of wizards.
Therefore, even if Dumbledore didn't use his own power to break through Hogwarts' enchantment,
He could completely use the power of the phoenix to return to Hogwarts at any time.
So Old Dumbledore had indeed been fooled away.
But Dylan felt that the extent of the other party's suspicion towards Quirrell, and whether he had deliberately left to give Quirrell a chance to act...
These were all uncertain.
It was precisely because of this that Dylan couldn't casually reveal his dark magic.
Wasn't that like lighting a lantern in the privy?
"Hmm? Could it be Harry?" Quirrell was taken aback.
"Fool! Does Potter need to change his voice?" the hoarse voice roared, seemingly infuriated by the stupidity of the body it possessed.
"Er, you have a point," Quirrell paused, also realizing.
Dylan narrowed his eyes, deciding to probe Old Dumbledore.
He took off the Invisibility Cloak's hood, then looked at Quirrell, a smile curving his lips. "Hello, Professor Quirrell. You really are the one coveting the Philosopher's Stone!"
Quirrell looked at Dylan, stunned again and again.
"Hokewood? How could it be you?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Why couldn't it be me? Harry has told me everything, or rather, I already knew you were probably the one with bad intentions."
"How could you, a damn first-year student, know what I'm thinking?" Quirrell stared at the guy whom countless professors praised in his ears every day, his eyes wide.
To find out what arrangements each professor had left here, he had been visiting various professors and their offices every day.
But this Dylan guy would sometimes block his way when he tried to visit the professors, acting like a stumbling block, preventing him from finding out anything, forcing him to leave dejectedly.
Moreover, at other times, when he approached a professor, trying to get information, before he could even say anything, those damn professors would constantly shift the topic to Dylan!
One moment they would talk about how clever, intelligent, and talented Dylan was.
The next moment they would talk about how lovable and likeable Dylan was.
He didn't want to know who the hell Dylan was!
Because in his class, Dylan was like a silent gourd, saying nothing!
Especially once, when Professor McGonagall was once again praising Dylan's talent in his ear—
He had still considered whether to check out Dylan's level. If he could win him over to become the master's servant, he might be a very useful knife to stab Hogwarts in the future.
However, when he tried to ask Dylan some questions in class first, preparing to first arouse this little brat's interest in dark magic, and then take the opportunity to trick him into his office for one-on-one brainwashing services,
This damn little brat actually said that he had already learned most of the Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum from other professors.
—And had even learned the counter-curses for advanced dark magic!
Damn Hogwarts professors!
Who stole what should have been his job?!
(End of chapter)
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