The Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts is always up for business

"These are yours, Mr. Borgin." Quirrell took out a bag and threw it at Calactacus Burk.

"Damn it, don't call me by my name, Quirinus Quirrell." Bork growled angrily, and yelled out Quirrell's name even more loudly.

Then the sound of gold coins colliding echoed in the empty shed, and Bock didn't catch them. Facing these flying cuties, he moved sideways a few steps vigilantly, bringing himself closer to the exit.

Quirrell sneered, as if laughing at the other party's timidity, but Aini could hear a hint of self-deprecation from it.

Aini didn't think the old Bok's behavior was funny. Timidity and prudence were not the same thing. He was able to stay in the gray area for many years and maintain a great reputation. This prudence was definitely attributable to him.

Bock ignored Quirrell's ridicule. In his eyes, Quirrell was like a monkey standing in front of a giant python. His momentary complacency could only bring him morbid arrogance, but he forgot that as long as he lowered his head, the giant python would be dead. It can swallow him up to the bone.

Even though the huge sum of money was at his feet, he still stared at the arrogant fool in front of him, without even looking at the money bag on the ground.

After casting an Iron Armor Charm on himself, Bork took out a brown bead with a strange slit in the middle.

According to the seller, it was the remains of a beholder, but it was difficult for Bock to tell, since the beholder hadn't been seen since the Dark Ages.

But this eyeball does have mysterious powers, it can store items and discern whether there are traces of black magic in them.

Bork aimed at the money bag on the ground from the corner of his eye, a piece of yellow gas poured out from the pupil of the eyeball, wrapped the money bag, and after a few breaths, the gas was sucked back, and the money bag also lost weight successfully, like a block Limp on the ground like a rag.

Seeing that there was no change in the eyeballs, Bok took out a large bag, shook his eyeballs and poured out the gold coins.

"Sincerely 900 Galleons." Bock threw the box in his hand towards Quirrell, almost exactly the same as when Quirrell was still in the purse just now.

Quirrell reached out to catch it, opened it and checked it.It's a pity that Aini can't see what's in the box due to the viewing angle.

At this moment, old Bock returned the same sneer.

"Young man, it doesn't hurt to be cautious. If I want to hurt you, you've already died twice." Bork said with disdain, he is not a good-tempered person.

The customer is God?To maintain customers?What the hell are these!

Bock knows its own business, no matter how good the service is, people who don't need it will not step into the Boke store.

For those in need, I am a gold-lettered signboard. At least in England, there are many things that only I can provide, whether I like it or not.

"Heh~" Quirrell's tone became even more disdainful, "No one can kill me with an item, you should be glad that you didn't have some crooked thoughts, your old life is not enough to pay the price of fooling me. Now, disappear from my eyes. "

Aini laughed, facing weird black magic items, even Dumbledore would fall for it, not to mention you, a hapless wretch.

After writing a sum to Quirrell in a small book, Bock decided to double the price for the next transaction.

As for the impossibility of killing Quirrell, despising customers is completely different from killing customers, which will make him lose follow-up income to purchase black magic item research.

Keeping his face on Quirrell, Bock slowly exited the Shrieking Shack.

Bock had already left for a while, but Quirrell stood still and did not leave.

A few minutes later, Aini found that Quirrell began to tremble, and as time went by, the trembling became more and more severe, and his limbs moved irregularly, like a master who invited the upper body of the gods.

Of course, Qi Luo is not a master, and asking the gods is just a joke, but the devil brought one.

"Why wake me up, is everything done?"

In the past, Voldemort's hoarse voice was emotionless, but now it was full of pain, and [Life Drying] tortured him all the time.

Even Aini, who was on the opposite side, had to say "submit". This old man was not only ruthless to others, but also unequivocal to himself.

The rise of the Dark Lord is by no means a fluke. On the one hand, he has extraordinary talent, and Tom's willpower far beyond ordinary people also contributed.

"Great master, I've got it." Quirrell opened the box again, "Master, this is it, I saw it once 3 years ago, there's nothing wrong with it."

"Very well, Quirrell. You didn't disappoint me this time." Voldemort's voice grew slower and began to tremble a little.

"Master, with it, we can start operations tonight, and then the great you will regain eternal life!" Quirrell's tone was fanatical and relieved. He had suffered too much torture, and no thought could hide it from the back of his head. He can only force himself to worship Voldemort devoutly all the time, so as to avoid some "shouldn't have" thoughts in his mind.

"No, Quirrell, it's not the time yet." Voldemort remembered the temptation after enrolling. The Philosopher's Stone was not there at all. He knew why, and Dumbledore needed it to protect the students at school.

Wait, wait, wait, the time is coming.

Dumbledore must have chosen to start their gamble at the end of term, what a dodgy old thing.

But I will tell him that no one can fool the great Dark Lord, and no one's rules can override his own will.

"Master, when will you wait? All your devout servants are eagerly waiting for your resurrection." Hearing Voldemort's answer, Quirrell's heart sank.

Fortunately, he reacted immediately, and quickly praised Voldemort loudly in his heart.

"Very well, Quirrell, the Dark Lord will not treat those loyal servants lightly." After reading Quirrell's heartfelt words of praise, Voldemort seemed to have seen the supreme glory that had left him and was about to return. Let him explain it to his subordinates for the first time.

"One month, Quirrell. One more month until the Hogwarts term is over, and then I will give you a taste of following the Dark Lord."

Voldemort vaguely saw the past. Wizards from ancient and long-standing families gathered under the high platform. They were either rich and powerful, or talented and powerful.

But everyone, everyone except themselves can only crawl under the high platform, and only the great Dark Lord stands high.

It was an honor not even Albus Dumbledore enjoyed.

"no no!"

Quirrell's shrill yell interrupted the free recollection. Voldemort glared angrily, but looked at the corner of the shed through Quirrell's eyes.

"Oh, ah! ah! ah! ah!"

Immediately Quirrell's screams turned into screams, his hood gradually expanded, pushing the hood down his head, and an inexplicable shape swelled from the back of his Voldemort-inhabited head.

Soon the turban broke, but instead of being broken vertically into pieces, it was split into strips horizontally, wrapping the detached Voldemort from top to bottom.