The footprints at the door became lighter and some dust settled.

At least two hours.

There were some soft music sounds in the room, so he stuck his head in and looked around carefully - a harp on the ground was playing by itself, and a three-headed dog lying soundly asleep nearby was accompanying the music with its calls.

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

Apart from these two, there is no other magical aura.

He drew his sword and walked inside.

When he reached the trapdoor, he did not rush to jump down, but bent over to look. Even in the dark, his vision was still unobstructed - vines and dark blue tentacle-like roots were the Devil's Snare.

And there are no other plants under the Devil's Snare.

Is this just for buffering?

He jumped down confidently, and the devil's net immediately entangled him.

He waved his hand and cast the Igni Sign, sparks flew - the vines immediately retreated, dropping Harry down and smashing him on the ground less than a meter away.

Going further, there were dense, tiny magical auras, they fluttered their wings and buzzed in the air.

Harry could see clearly that they were keys, and next to the locked door leading to the next room was a broom. It was obvious how to get through this level.

He is very good at flying.

But he wasn't in the mood for flying games at the moment.

He walked to the door and waved his wand: "Open the Alaho!"

There was no response, a counter-spell was cast on it.

"Open!" Harry chanted another spell.

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

The counter curse is really comprehensive.

Harry clicked his tongue, his hand pressed against the door— "Alder!"

The seal impacted, a few crackling sounds appeared, and cracks appeared. Harry raised his foot and kicked again, and the wooden boards flew everywhere - wasn't this much faster than riding a broom?

The third room is extremely magnificent.

A huge chessboard, with chess pieces almost as tall as him.

Harry had a headache. Playing cards... he was very good at it, but playing chess was a little difficult for him. He walked around the chessboard, came to the door, reached out and pulled, but the door didn't open.

He was about to use the same method again, but he just cast the Alder Seal.

Violating the rules, the magic in the room surged violently.

Snap, snap—

The chess pieces came to life, swaying and lunging at Harry with knives or guns raised.

Looks like we have to fight!

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

These are just rigid, deformed structures.

Some trouble, but not big.

In less than ten minutes, the ground was littered with broken chess pieces.

Harry didn't have a single wound on his body, and he didn't even sweat much.

In the room, magic continued to surge, and the chess pieces moved, gathered and merged. They had a self-repair mechanism, and in half an hour at most, they would return to the state Harry saw at the beginning.

He blasted the door open and entered the next room.

A foul stench hit him in the face, and in the middle of the room lay the corpse of a troll. Harry went over to check, and found that the body was still warm, and had been dead for no more than an hour.

There were no wounds.

Traces of the Killing Curse...

He cut off the troll's beard, stuffed it into the Sorting Hat amid its complaints, and hurried to the next room.

A table with seven bottles of potions of various shapes on it.

There was a powerful magical power lingering around the house. The moment he stepped into the house, it was activated and the surrounding walls and two doors were wrapped in black flames.

Not Fiendfyre.

It doesn't have that strong smell of curse, but it's very scorching, and the contained temperature is incredibly high, it's not the kind of thing that you can just put on a shield and rush through without thinking.

Harry walked to the table and saw, in addition to the potion, a piece of paper with a logical reasoning question written in a sloppy handwriting. It was obviously written by Snape.

He likes to use this kind of method that even a fool cannot do but smart people have to think about, and then look at others' frustrated looks and coldly sneer at them, saying "You have a brain like a troll."

Demon hunters most often use sigils and swords to solve problems.

This doesn't mean they don't have brains, it's just more convenient this way - sometimes just because you have brains doesn't mean others necessarily have brains too.

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

The furnishings here are even simpler.

The room was empty, with only a gorgeous full-length mirror, and his target was standing in front of the mirror, looking at it greedily, with a blush of happiness on her face.

He was intoxicated in his own imaginary dreamland.

"Idiot! Someone's coming in!" a hoarse voice sounded, scolding anxiously.

Quirrell turned his head sharply, but saw nothing.

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

Quirrell waved his wand: "Hurricane Sweep!"

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

Quirrell stretched out his voice: "Potter, I thought it would be someone else, like Snape, who always gets in my way."

"Nice to meet you again." Harry nodded at him. "It seems you are recovering well. Is your kidney better?"

Quirrell's expression immediately turned ugly. "You are really sharp-tongued. I always see you in places where I shouldn't see you. Are you the backup plan left by Dumbledore?"

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

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

"Potter!" Quirrell raised his wand with shaking hands. "Perhaps you didn't suffer enough that night?"

Harry sneered: "How can someone who was stabbed in the waist by me say such things?"

Just as he was about to cast a spell, a hoarse voice sounded: "Let me see him."

Qi Luo's face became panicked: "No, Master, you haven't recovered yet..."

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

Quirrell raised his hands tremblingly and untied the stinking turban that had been wrapped around his head. As the turban fell to the ground, he turned around.

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

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

"Voldemort?" Harry tightened his grip on his sword and added a layer of Quinn shield to himself, "You look really ugly."

"I finally know why you can sense my movements. It turns out... you have been staying in this place all the time."

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

At this point, he paused and said, "I am now reduced to nothing but shadow and vapor, and have to share a body with my servants!"

Harry added, sarcastically, "And you have to stay in a stinky turban all day. No wonder you have no nose."

Quirrell shuddered. Voldemort's face had almost no features, but it was still twisted hideously. "Potter, we can talk."

"I can see that you have ambitions, even if you go to Gryffindor - look at how beautiful your eyes are, my Nagini also 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 even resurrect the dead. Don't you want to resurrect your parents?"

His words were full of temptation.

"Some people say my eyes are like a cat's, and some people say my eyes are like a lion's." Harry responded coldly, "Do you know what the common points between cats and lions are?"

Voldemort said nothing, but narrowed his eyes at him.

"Both can catch snakes." Harry answered his own question.

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. It can reflect a person's innermost desires, their most essential longings."

"Do you know what I saw?"

"The Philosopher's Stone, I restored my body and became the omnipotent Dark Lord again."

"Don't you want to see what your desires are?"

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

Voldemort waved his wand and the mirror flew in front of Harry, reflecting him even if he dodged.

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

The phantom in the mirror affects reality.

Harry felt his pocket drop, as something heavy fell into it - there was no doubt about it, the Philosopher's Stone.

This made his face darken.

Voldemort was delighted: "It is so. Dumbledore has fooled me again, but he was wrong after all. Hand over the Philosopher's Stone!"

He waved his wand without even uttering a spell.

From under his robes, a large number of dark blue snakes crawled out and rushed towards Harry.

Igni!

Harry cast a seal, and flames surged, swallowing up the black snake. He waved his wand again, and blue flames surged up. It had little killing power, but at least... it could block some of the sight.

It's not the snake that's dangerous.

The moment Harry moved, he changed the direction of his run, and a snake gurgled and changed into a wall. This way was blocked, so he took another one. His center of gravity shifted - and at the same time.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Voldemort chanted the spell, and the Killing Curse was cast in the direction where Harry was most likely to retreat - there were many dark wizards who could cast the Killing Curse, but the reason why Voldemort could become the Dark Lord was because... he could ensure that every Killing Curse would hit as many people as possible.

Harry stuck his sword into the ground, using the force to push himself away and barely avoided the blow.

Alder Seal, smash it against the wall.

The magic power shattered and scattered everywhere.

Fortunately, this was not the Forbidden Forest, but just a small house. Harry moved left and right, quickly approached, swung his sword, and was about to cut Quirrell in half.

Whoosh whoosh——

Two quick sounds.

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

"Goodbye, Potter."

"Ava——"

Before he finished his words, Harry clenched his fist with his other hand and waved it at Voldemort: "Really? Then have you ever thought that I can use my fists?"

Sizzle——

The skin on the back of my head exploded with a sharp sound, as if burned, and a bunch of blisters appeared.

Harry's scar also began to ache violently.