Chapter 92

Allen entered the room for the second time; flames appeared again before and behind him, the arrangement of bottles on the table remained unchanged, and the logic puzzle on the parchment was identical to before.

Allen did not know why the trial’s designer had structured it this way, but now he had one more choice—whether to confront Professor Quirrell and Voldemort.

For this choice, Allen was deeply conflicted and hesitant.

He knew very well Professor Quirrell’s strength, let alone the unknown power of Voldemort.

He and Harry could never defeat Professor Quirrell.

If he continued forward, his chance of survival was virtually zero.

But Harry had already gone in—what would he face?

Suddenly, Allen felt a heavy weight in his chest; he could not imagine what Harry would endure next, and his heart grew restless.

He thought again of the Halloween incident, and his inner unease suddenly lessened; he made up his mind to press on and help Harry.

“I’ve always been protected by the bravest people!” Allen whispered to himself, “In this life, yes—but even more so in my past life!”

“Now it’s my turn to stand up bravely!”

Allen’s gaze hardened; he decided to confront Professor Quirrell.

He removed his mask and swallowed the entire contents of the smallest bottle.

It was indeed like ice, instantly spreading through his entire body.

He set down the bottle and walked forward.

Gathering his courage, he saw black flames licking his body, yet he felt nothing, and soon he passed through safely into the final room.

The first thing Allen saw upon entering was Harry, rigid and floating in midair, while a man reached into his pocket and pulled out a red stone...

Allen was certain the red stone was the Philosopher’s Stone, and he knew the man was Professor Quirrell.

Allen prepared to cast the Petrifying Spell on the man.

At that moment, a voice rang out—cold and sharp, sending a chill through Allen’s bones...

“Ah! You’ve come to witness my victory, Allen?” The cold, sharp voice carried a sneer.

Allen recognized the voice instantly—he knew it was Voldemort.

The man slowly advanced toward Allen, walking awkwardly, as if retreating backward...

Allen finally saw the man’s face, and the man saw Allen’s face...

Allen gasped in shock, and Voldemort’s face wore an expression of equal surprise.

Because both had flat noses, with nostrils like thin slits...

Allen was stunned to realize Voldemort’s face was growing from the back of Professor Quirrell’s head...

He remembered the events of the night before Halloween, and his heart sank completely...

“Allen, you always surprise me!” Voldemort said in his cold, sharp voice.

Harry, still floating in midair, was released from the spell; he stared in shock at the two men speaking.

“It seems we are the same kind of person—even our appearances are so similar. I admire you even more now, Allen!” Voldemort added.

“You know each other?” Harry asked, his eyes uncertain as he looked at Allen.

“Of course! Didn’t Allen tell you? He’s been working for me all year—he’s my most capable assistant!” Voldemort sounded delighted, as if discovering a delightful joke.

“Shut up!” Allen swung his wand and cast the Petrifying Spell on Voldemort—but the spell was blocked by an invisible shield.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk! Are you angry because I exposed your secrets? Have you forgotten how you betrayed your friends right before me?” Voldemort continued to sow discord.

Harry’s gaze toward Allen changed completely; Allen opened his mouth to explain, but a cold dread spread through his heart, leaving him speechless.

To Harry, this hesitation looked like guilty silence.

Harry slowly stepped backward, his wand pointed steadily at Allen and Professor Quirrell—his actions spoke plainly.

“Harry, it’s not how you imagine!” Allen cried bitterly, furious at Voldemort’s treachery.

But Harry remained unmoved; his face darkened as if dripping with water, and his eyes looked at Allen as if he were a stranger...

“Kill me if you must! Why slander me like this?” Allen shouted at Voldemort in rage.

“I’ve always admired you—you’ve made such great contributions to my resurrection. What reward do you desire?” Voldemort continued taunting Allen, clearly enjoying this scene of friendship shattered.

Allen swung his wand in fury, but every spell he cast was blocked by the invisible armor surrounding Professor Quirrell...

“How about you stay at Hogwarts as my spy? Continue aiding me in this great cause.”

“When I return and reclaim control of the magical world, no one will match your contributions. I’ll reward you properly—think about it, Allen!” Voldemort’s voice dripped with temptation.

At that moment, Professor Quirrell spoke: “Allen, don’t hesitate—accept your master’s grace! My master’s patience is limited.”

“Shut up!” Allen roared at Voldemort.

Then he turned to Harry: “Harry, it’s not what you think! We’re friends—that has never changed!”

He looked at Harry with sincerity; the oath’s restriction prevented him from explaining further, so he could only convey his feelings through his gaze.

Though his nose, identical to Voldemort’s, undermined the sincerity...

Harry fell silent—he could see the truth in Allen’s eyes...

“Think of all the time we’ve spent together this year!” Allen continued.

Harry began to waver; he turned his wand to point directly at Quirrell and Voldemort.

Quirrell noticed Harry’s choice and said: “Master, our time is short!”

Voldemort made one final attempt: “Allen, I truly admire you. My victory is certain now—you only need to guide me from the shadows.”

His words were answered by Allen’s spell—and Harry cast his own spell at Quirrell simultaneously...

Both spells struck the invisible armor around Quirrell, producing only ripples...

“Finish them quickly! Don’t use the Killing Curse on Potter!” Voldemort ordered.

“As you command, my master!” Professor Quirrell grinned grotesquely; he turned fully to face Harry and Allen, raising his wand...

Harry and Allen continued casting their spells...

Allen sharply sensed Quirrell’s intent and shouted to Harry: “Get down!”

Quirrell cast his first spell:

“Crucio!”