The Existence of Harry Potter

Suddenly I remembered that Quirrell's part was not over yet, so I had to add a little more. As for whether it is whitewashing, obviously not, I usually only blackmail people.

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This time, I'm afraid it's really bad luck.

Harry thought silently that his mood was a little low, and he was not as confident as before, as if nothing could stop him. Confidence is a wonderful thing, with the power to turn corruption into magic, but now Harry has no confidence at all, and he is even a little desperate because his way out is gone.

Ask Grindelwald!

The thought of this man made Harry furious, because he felt like a fool all the time to be played by this man, to be played with applause. Looking back now, the way that hateful guy looked at him was really irritating, a sense of superiority, as if he was a clown and he was a prince. To many people, although he is kind and cheerful, he always keeps a distance on purpose, and the smile that has been hanging on the corner of his mouth is more like a mockery, as if to say, you scumbags...

What a nasty bastard!

Harry glanced at his empty hands, laughed at himself, and defeated Snape with his bare hands, which was really a challenging task. At this time, he was alone, unarmed, young and frail, but he was about to face a powerful adult wizard, and even that terrifying person who dared not even mention his name may appear there.

There is no hope at all, it is impossible to win!

It is easy to die with generosity, but difficult to do justice calmly.

All Harry can do now is to straighten his chest and walk straight on until he is killed. His face was tensed and expressionless. It was difficult to do this for a long time, his eyes were sore, and the muscles on his face tended to cramp. Therefore, Harry had a little admiration and sympathy for Snape. I'm afraid his face was really paralyzed, and he couldn't make other expressions.

The road was not far, only ten meters, but Harry walked for about five minutes to get there.

Harry raised his head and straightened his back like a javelin. He let out a breath of foul breath, plucked up his courage, and reached out to open the door.

Unfortunately, the Philosopher's Stone cannot be preserved.

Harry was a little regretful, but also a little fortunate, because he let Hermione and Ron leave first, so they shouldn't be in danger. Although the Philosopher's Stone will fall into the hands of Voldemort, Harry believes that as long as Dumbledore is there, Voldemort's failure is doomed!

"Squeak~"

The door opened slowly, and there was already someone inside - not Snape, not even Voldemort.

Quirrell!

"you!"

Facing this sudden change, Harry felt as if he had been hit hard by a Bludger on his head. His mind was now in a mess, and countless thoughts emerged and countless thoughts flashed past. , he almost forgot to breathe, just staring stupidly at Quirrell who had turned around and sneered at him.

Quirrell sneered, now his face wasn't twitching at all, it was cold, and there was a resentment in Harry's eyes that made Harry's blood boil.

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

"But, I thought... Snape..."

"Snape?" Quirrell laughed, not his usual shrill vibrato, but a chilling sneer, "Yeah, Snape really doesn't look like a good guy. , isn't it? He flies around like a gigantic bat, which helps us a lot. With him there, who would doubt... but... poor, stumbling... stammering Quirrell Teach... what about the professor?"

It seemed that the overall situation had been decided and the outcome had been decided, Quirrell seemed very relaxed. However, Harry couldn't relax, he couldn't believe it.

This can't be true, it can't be!

Harry retorted loudly, "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no, it was me who wanted to kill you. During that Quidditch match, your friend Miss Granger rushed over to cast a spell on Snape and accidentally knocked me over. She destroyed In fact, just hold on for a few more seconds, and I'll throw you off your broomstick. If Snape hadn't been chanting an anti-curse beside him, trying to save your life, I'd have You fell to your death." Quirrell shook his head, as if it was a pity.

"Snape wants to save me?"

"Of course it is," Quirrell said coldly. "Why did you say he wanted to referee your second game? He wanted to make sure I didn't hurt you again. It's ridiculous... Actually he doesn't have to bother, Dumbledore was there and I couldn't do anything. The other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, and he did make himself very unpopular... But it's all a waste of time, anyway Say, I must kill you tonight!"

Quirrell snapped his fingers, saying it was too late, only to see a few ropes jumping out of nowhere and tying Harry firmly.

"I know you still have a lot of questions, but why should I answer you?" Quirrell walked lazily towards Harry, the smell of garlic on him making Harry cry, but Quirrell himself seemed to be fine. Hanging his head slightly, Quirrell looked at Harry, "It smells bad, isn't it? I wasn't used to it at first, but over time, I got used to it."

"let me go!"

"Are you really Harry Potter?"

Quirrell stretched out his hand, and his fingertips ran across the scar on Harry's forehead, only to hear a "chi" sound. His fingers seemed to have been scorched by a red-hot iron, and a scorched stench permeated. Looking at his fingers casually, Quirrell's expression was a little unnatural, but he quickly regained his composure, "What kind of spell is this? I've never heard of such a spell."

"..." Harry gritted his teeth. The scar on his forehead kept aching when he faced Quirrell, but when Quirrell touched it just now, the pain instantly magnified and almost made Harry faint. UU reading www.uukanshu. com

"Well, the protective spell, the effect... It should be that I can't hurt or even kill you. On the contrary, you can deal a fatal blow to me."

Quirrell slowly analyzed that his words gave Harry a glimmer of hope, but Quirrell quickly snuffed it out. I saw him wave his hand, and a drum appeared in front of Harry, which was filled with things that Harry was very familiar with. These things exuded bursts of stench, sticky, and green.

"It's troll feces."

Quirrell smiled maliciously, he pointed at Harry, and Harry's body floated up, and then his head and feet floated in the air. Do it all, Quirrell

"I think, Potter, you'll be making headlines in the Daily Prophet tomorrow, and everyone knows that Harry Potter drowns in a dung bucket, and it's going to be the year, even this year, The most interesting news of the century, isn't it? You're already famous, but you don't mind being more famous, right? It's hard to make headlines, you know."

"Let go of me! Let me go!"

Harry shouted in horror, he was not afraid of death, but, such a way of dying...

"Let go of you?" Quirrell asked rhetorically. "Are you sure? You know, if I let you go, you'll fall straight down and end up in the dung bucket. Are you sure you want me to let you go? "

"…"

"Okay." Quirrell raised his hand slowly, as if holding a decapitation knife in his hand, "Farewell, Harry Potter!"

Harry closed his eyes, Quirrell's hand slammed down...