hogwarts rose

A piece of parchment was quietly placed beside the bottle, and the writing on it was very familiar to Tria.

[Danger is ahead, safety is behind,

There are two of us who can help you.

Drink them down, one leads you onward,

The other sends you back to where you came from.

Two filled with nettle wine,

Three are killers, waiting in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forever.

We also provide four clues to help you choose:

First, no matter how cunningly the poison hides,

In fact, they all stand on the left of the nettle wine;

Second, the contents of the bottles at the left and right ends are different,

None of them will work for you if you want to move forward;

Third, you will find that the bottles vary in size,

There is no death hidden in giants and dwarfs;

Fourth, second from the left and second from the right,

Although the appearance is different, the taste is the same. 】

Tria couldn't help laughing. She didn't expect that Professor Snape usually likes to study logic problems. Judging by his wording, it's so cute.

Harry was confused. He touched the parchment, then the row of bottles, and looked at Tria in confusion:

"What does it mean?"

"A logic problem. I really didn't expect Professor Snape to like this."

Tria has already begun to draw according to the prompts on the parchment, and it didn't take long before she pointed to the smallest bottle:

"This bottle of potion can take you forward."

At the same time, she pointed to the passage to the next room. There was no door there, only a blazing black flame.

The flames had no temperature, and looked gloomy and cold, clearly Snape's style.

"But there's only a little left in it, probably enough for one bite."

Harry picked up the small bottle and shook it. There was really only a little bit left in it, unlike other full bottles.

"Perhaps Voldemort has drunk it."

Tria said leisurely, this is almost obvious:

Lu Wei who fell asleep, the key with the injured wing, the fallen troll, and the potion that took a sip.

Harry shivered, sick at the thought of the man who killed his parents being separated from him by a flame.

"Then I... go in by myself?"

Harry's voice was full of uncertainty, and his right hand subconsciously touched the other protective props on his chest, and he felt a little relieved.

"No, you drink the potion, I have a solution."

As Triya spoke, she had already walked to the side of the flame, holding a black cat pendant in her hand.

She smiled:

"This flame is essentially Professor Snape's magic power, and I happen to have a protective pendant here, which uses Professor Snape's magic power."

She shook the pendant triumphantly, with the protective spell of the same source magic, she could almost pretend that she didn't exist in the flames, walking hundreds of times back and forth happily.

Harry was dumbfounded, he couldn't figure out why the relationship between Tria and Snape was so good, since Snape was Voldemort's subordinate!

But he soon ran out of time to think about it. Tria had already activated the sinker, ready to step straight into the flames.

"Come on Harry."

Tria passed through the flames, and Harry quickly emptied the potion in the vial and rushed into the flames, fearing that Tria would be injured in the few seconds he was away.

There was a figure standing behind the flames, and as Triya expected, it shocked Harry severely.

"Quirrell—!"

He was so shocked that he broke his voice, and the figure in the big turban turned around slowly, looking at the two of them with malicious eyes.

In fact, he still had some doubts about why Tria was here, but a qualified villain would not have untimely questions, so he kept his posture calmly.

"It's me." Quirrell didn't stutter at all, and even his tone was deeper and more pleasant than he usually showed.

"I was wondering how long it would be before you could be here."

Harry's mind was going off the rails, "But I thought—Snape..."

"Snape?" Quirrell laughed. "Yeah, Snape sure doesn't look like a nice guy, does he? He's flying around like a giant bat, which helps us a lot. With him in there, who'd doubt the— But—poor, sta——stutter—Professor Quirrell?”

Tria knew it wasn't the right time, but she kind of wanted to laugh, even Quirrell calling Snape a "giant big bat"?

Harry couldn't believe he'd been tricked, he'd felt sorry for the poor, stuttering professor who was being threatened by Snape.

"But he was at my Quidditch match..."

Harry murmured, but he also knew in his heart that he might have misunderstood.

Sure enough, if you give the villain a chance to talk, he can talk happily.

Quirrell looked at Harry in disgust:

"Oh, I'm the one who cast the curse on you!" His expression could be called vicious, "If the black bat hadn't been reciting an undoing curse, you would have been thrown to death long ago! I can't wait for this more The nosy lady will save you!"

As he spoke, he gave Triya a vicious look.

But in the next second, blue smoke came out of one of his eyes, and Quirrell howled in pain.

"Master, please forgive me, Master!"

Like a schizophrenic, he covered his eyes and rolled around in the empty room, not knowing who to ask for forgiveness.

"Don't be disrespectful to the lovely lady."

The voice was weak and ethereal, as if it came from all directions.

"Yes, master, please forgive my rudeness."

Half of Quirrell's eyeballs melted, but he still respected his master morbidly, which made Tria curious, how did Voldemort train his men?

Was it the same style when Grindelwald was the Dark Lord?

Hard to imagine.

"Let me chat with this young lady."

Voldemort's voice was very soft, and his manner of speaking was like that of a sick and weak nobleman. It was completely unimaginable that he just melted half of his subordinate's eyeball when he was upset.

"Yes!"

Quirrell buried his head deeply, one of his hands was stained with blood, stood up tremblingly, and slowly took off the scarf that he had worn for a whole semester.

Quirrell has lost all his hair. He turned around, and there was a face where the back of his head should have been.

An extremely hideous and terrifying face.

The face was as white as chalk, with glowing red eyes and two nostrils that were long and slender like snakes.

Triya's hands and feet are cold, and this look is really uncomfortable.

"Miss Tria Black."

Voldemort spoke very reluctantly, every time he opened his mouth, it seemed to burst the back of Quirrell's head.

"My kind lady, can you see my broken soul?"