Chapter 130: We All Have a Bright Future (Patreon)

Three minutes later, Quirrell sat up from the floor.

His complexion had become rosy, rather than the pale, sallow yellow it had been before.

His body felt agile again, his muscles had regained strength, and his spirit was gradually replenished, no longer the listless, depleted state he'd been in.

Everything indicated that his condition was improving!

"What an incredible potion! I can feel energy constantly pouring into my body, replenishing everything my body had been lacking..."

"Th-thank you... Elavin! You're my lifesaver!"

Quirrell looked at Elavin with eyes full of gratitude.

He looked like a middle-aged man cured of kidney deficiency by a traditional Chinese doctor, ready to kneel and shout "foster father" a hundred times.

"Alright, alright, get up. From now on, Voldemort... no, wait... this 'Pooperman' is your responsibility!"

Elavin tossed the poop-shaped toy Voldemort to Quirrell.

"Huh? My responsibility?!" Quirrell scrambled to catch the toy. "Is that... appropriate?"

"Of course it's appropriate! He tormented you for half a year. Don't you want revenge? Like... flushing him down the toilet a hundred times?"

What?!

Revenge on Voldemort?

Could someone like me really do that?

Quirrell swallowed nervously, his heart racing with excitement. "B-but Voldemort is so powerful... I... I'm no match for him..."

Elavin patted his shoulder. "Relax. Voldemort can't use magic now. He's just a talking poop toy."

Quirrell's eyes lit up, and the corners of his mouth lifted into a faint smile.

If that's the case, then I can finally relax!

"No! You can't do that!!" Voldemort screamed from the side.

He knew perfectly well that once he fell into Quirrell's hands, he would face the most cruel and terrifying torment.

Given what he'd done to Quirrell over the past half year, flushing him down the toilet a hundred times would be lenient. Even soaking him in a cesspool for seven days and seven nights wouldn't be excessive.

Unfortunately, neither of the two present cared about his opinion.

"Oh, by the way... should we tell Professor Dumbledore about this?"

Quirrell touched his own bald head and looked at Elavin questioningly.

"Why tell him?"

Elavin glanced at the corner of the room. "That old man who's practically blind spent half a year without noticing Voldemort was on you. What do you expect him to do?”

“If he had enough insight, wisdom, and power, he would have shown up tonight and stopped Voldemort from escaping, not leave it to a first-year wizard like me!"

Quirrell wholeheartedly agreed.

Over the past six months, he'd certainly harboured resentment toward Dumbledore.

Think about it. The professors saw each other day in and day out, eating together almost every day. With Dumbledore's wisdom and insight, was it really possible he hadn't noticed Quirrell's abnormalities?

Impossible!

He definitely noticed!

But from start to finish, he'd done nothing.

Quirrell didn't know what Dumbledore was thinking.

All he knew was that when he was being enslaved and tormented by Voldemort, Dumbledore hadn't lifted a finger.

All he knew was that when his life force was about to be drained by Voldemort, Elavin had saved him.

Even if he later discovered that he'd misunderstood Dumbledore, even if he had misunderstood Dumbledore, he wouldn't regret following Elavin's orders.

"So you mean... keep tonight's events completely secret?"

"Why would we tell anyone? Are you asking for trouble?"

Quirrell thought about it and agreed.

As long as he kept his mouth shut, who would know Voldemort had once possessed him?

Elavin turned back to the Mirror of Erised.

The scene inside the mirror was still the image of himself being elected Chief of Earth.

But as his thoughts shifted, the scene inside the mirror changed.

The election scene vanished. Wizards, Muggles, magical creatures, all disappeared. The mirror now reflected his current face, except that in his hand was a red gemstone.

The Philosopher's Stone!

The next moment, his reflection in the mirror tucked the Stone into his pocket.

Simultaneously, Elavin felt his pocket grow heavier. He reached in and pulled out a bright red gemstone.

Quirrell and Voldemort behind him stared at the Stone in his hand, stunned. "Th-this is..."

"That's right. The Philosopher's Stone you've been dreaming about!"

Elavin held up the Stone for the two of them to see.

It was pigeon-blood red, crystal clear, and under the firelight, it refracted a faint sense of mystery. Anyone who glanced at it would instinctively want to claim it as their own.

Quirrell and Voldemort both fell silent.

How was this possible?!

He'd stood in front of the mirror just moments ago, staring until his eyes were dry, and hadn't been able to get the Stone. How did this kid just stand there casually and take it?

Was he the chosen one for the Philosopher's Stone?

"Elavin... sir! This Stone..."

Quirrell was still quite concerned about the Philosopher's Stone.

Even though he no longer needed it, he and Voldemort had spent the past six months chasing it.

Oh? Calling me 'sir'? You catch on fast!

Elavin's lips curled upward as he put the Stone back in his pocket. "I'm taking the Philosopher's Stone, of course. Do you have a problem with that?"

Quirrell shook his head frantically. "No... not at all!!"

"Good! Tonight, you take Voldemort, I take the Stone. We all have a bright future!"

"Your wisdom is unmatched, sir!"

After tidying up the traces in the room, Quirrell left with Voldemort.

Earlier, when Voldemort had seen the situation turning against him and tried to escape, he'd deliberately intensified the drain on Quirrell's life force before fleeing. This had left Quirrell's body severely damaged.

Though he'd later taken Elavin's Life Potion and his condition had improved, he was still badly weakened and needed proper rest and nutrition to recover.

After Quirrell left, only Elavin remained in the room.

He didn't leave immediately. Instead, he turned to look at the corner of the room.

"How much longer are you going to watch, Professor Dumbledore?"

A few seconds later, a transparent curtain appeared where there had been nothing before.

It slowly lifted, revealing the figure hidden within.

Sure enough, it was Dumbledore!

He looked at Elavin with an awkward expression, like someone caught spying.

"Remarkable powers of observation! I thought my Disillusionment Charm was good enough. When did you notice me?"

Elavin clicked his tongue.

"I've known since before you were born!"