The Grey Wizard of Hogwarts

When I came out of Dumbledore's office, the sky had quietly turned dark.

Anton came to the restaurant on the first floor of the castle. He was a little hungry.

The restaurant was very lively, everyone was talking about the troll, and many people gathered around the long table in Gryffindor, listening to Ron describe his heroic deeds vividly.

Harry looked a little shy, but after sensing Draco looking at them jealously from a distance, he joined the narrative.

Hermione apparently reconciled with the two, and she pouted as she sat on the side and listened to them adding fuel to the fire.

According to the past, she would reprimand this kind of behavior that violated the school rules with a triumphant attitude.

Anyway, it was very lively.

But the fun is theirs.

Anton came to Slytherin's long table with a huge book, found a corner where no one was around, and enjoyed the food quietly.

Basically, as long as he carries a book, no one will take the initiative to disturb him.

Especially on the Slytherin side of the lower grades, this is the rule.

In terms of reading, Anton is famously more like a Ravenclaw than Ravenclaw.

Of course, if someone disturbs his reading, this one is more Slytherin than Slytherin.

"It's nothing special, right?" Draco said to Anton very upset, um, cute roommates always have some privileges.

"Mountain trolls are the strongest among humanoid creatures like trolls. Obviously, my little cousin has good courage and great strength." Anton said with a smile.

"Damn, I can't listen to his triumphant words." Draco rolled his eyes and walked away with his two followers.

Anton chuckled lightly and ignored him.

Snapped.

A hand patted his shoulder lightly.

"..."

Anton was silent for a while, then raised his head, it was Professor Quirrell.

"Also...maybe...maybe we can...talk...talk about it."

It's really really Professor Quirrell, which is surprising. This one never takes the initiative to find him, he is always looking for him.

Anton pointed to the huge book beside him, "I need to go back to the dormitory to put this away. After all, it is inconvenient to walk with it."

Quirrell twitched the corners of his mouth, trying hard to express a little kindness, "No... it's okay, take your time... eat slowly, come to me later... my... my office."

Anton smiled and nodded.

Quirrell walked to the professor's seat, Anton squinted at his back.

He wouldn't forget that Quirrell, a scumbag, planned to kill himself at that time, just last night, how long could he forget!

Are you still looking for yourself now?

And still in a pleasing tone?

Anton's brain was running fast.

After returning to the dormitory, Anton put the magic book in the small box by the windowsill.

This was probably the safest place he could think of. Slytherin's bedroom had very few records of being infiltrated.

Moreover, there is a cute little plant under the windowsill.

Draco once complained about Anton not putting these dangerous plants in the bedroom, and after a friendly and cordial exchange, he readily agreed.

This lovely roommate adheres to the principle of "join if you can't beat it", and also put a box next to the windowsill to store the gadgets he doesn't want people to know about.

"It will also protect my trunk, right?"

Anton nodded with a smile, "I don't mind sharing."

So, the task of feeding the small plants with meat and blood twice a week fell to Goyle.

Both of them are very satisfied and win-win.

After taking a shower and changing clothes, Anton adjusted his mind and walked slowly to Professor Quirrell's office.

"Are you looking for me?" Anton rudely sat on the chair in front of the desk.

If it wasn't for Voldemort parasitizing behind Quirrell's head, Anton would definitely find a way to kill and maim this girl now.

Don't think that he only has the means of black magic, his experience in potions is his real trump card.

Instant death, sudden death a month later, paralysis, suspended animation into a vegetative state, lack of arms and legs...

A variety of packages are available for you to choose from.

When the old wizard's potion research direction is to save lives and wounds?

Anton can definitely guarantee that these potions have a first-class taste, and they can be rejuvenated.

In terms of taste, Anton considers himself stronger than the old wizard and Snape!

Quirrell didn't mind his rudeness. He fixedly looked at Anton, and the two were silent for a long time.

Quirrell was obviously looking for the wrong person for things like patience.

Anton can sit with him until the end of the world.

If a person didn't have to eat or poop, he could sit opposite Quirrell for at least a year. He was such a resilient person.

"I want you to help me," Quirrell said.

Obviously, people and ghosts are playing these days, and he is actually not that frightened and stammered.

Anton didn't answer, just lowered his head and continued to play with his fingers.

"I want you to help me, that three-headed dog, I saw it, you have a way to deal with it! I also need someone to watch the wind and help me stop all emergencies!"

Only then did Anton raise his eyelids and stare at him coldly, "You wanted to kill me then, do you think I'll help you?"

"You have to help me!" Quirrell's voice rose, "Dark Demon..."

He paused, clenched his fists hard, stood up, looked down at Anton, "I didn't mean to! I was terrified, Snape was so powerful, I had to get what's in that room, I It was desperate."

He twitched his lips, "You don't know how desperate I was at that time!"

"Haha." An Dong sneered ~www.NovelMTL.com~ and continued to play with his fingers.

Create a reasonable reason for his behavior, put himself in the perspective of the weak, and focus on describing how helpless he is to do so - this kind of elementary method, he has long stopped playing.

As his strength increased step by step, he was getting a little tired of this kind of deception that wronged him.

Play this set in front of me?

You are still a little tender.

Quirrell walked behind his desk, staring at him eventually, "You have to help me, I mean, I taught you so much!"

Anton is still playing with his fingers.

He sneered in his heart.

Is that what you taught?

That's Voldemort, you taught a chicken!

However, this also reminded him that obtaining the Philosopher's Stone was Voldemort's inevitable goal. Now that he has come this far, he cannot get away with a simple complaint.

Some things, there is no room for negotiation.

"Everything has a price, Professor, you taught me so much, and you planned to kill me before, so the grievances have long since been cleared up."

He can't play Voldemort, and he can't play this shit?

Ah?

If you want to help you, you can, or you really bring the Dark Lord out, we will help right away without a word.

If you don't dare, show some sincerity!

Quirrell was very unwilling. He reached out and touched the turban. After hesitating for a while, he put his hand down. He just kept saying, "You must help me!"

"Then..." An Dong said quietly, "What's the price?"

"!!!"

Quirrell was stunned, exclaimed, his sharp tone echoed in the office, "You actually asked me for a favor, do you know that we are doing..."