A magical journey that begins at Hogwarts

"But just because you don't value your life doesn't mean I don't. Voldemort might not let you go, but the three of us are different from you; we have a chance to live."

Upon hearing this, Harry looked somewhat conflicted.

He and Voldemort were sworn enemies; only one of them could survive, but he didn't want to implicate the others because of his own actions.

"Aren't you feeling particularly conflicted?" Aaron teased, seeing the complicated look on his face. "I admit you have a strong sense of justice and are a true Gryffindor."

But I must remind you, not valuing your own life is not courage, it's just pure recklessness.

Only by staying alive can you have a chance to turn things around; if you die, you'll have nothing left.

I'm not like you. I won't risk my life unless absolutely necessary, and I certainly won't fight a losing battle.

"If you want to prove your innocence with your death, then go by yourself, but whatever you do, don't take me with you."

"Should we run now?" Hermione suggested.

“Yes, we should have left here long ago,” Ron added. “As long as we hold out until Dumbledore returns, everything will be fine.”

Huh?

That's a great idea.

However, a friendly reminder: please be extra careful when you walk, and be sure to walk quickly.

However, this is somewhat difficult for us, considering there is still an injured player here.

"You mean Voldemort might not let us leave?" Hermione asked, her face grim.

"It's not a possibility, it's a certainty."

Although he was still battling the two professors, he also diverted some of his attention to us.

If there's the slightest disturbance, he'll probably risk getting injured to keep us here.

Because as long as he obtains the Philosopher's Stone, he can reshape his body; Quirrell's physical condition is completely unimportant to him.

The three looked at each other, and Harry lowered his head resignedly, but his clenched fists still showed his unwillingness. "Are we really just going to watch like this?"

"We are wizards too, and we can help the professor."

"Forget it!" Aaron bluntly poured cold water on the idea.

Harry paused, "Am I wrong?"

“Something seems... off,” Hermione said, shaking her head.

"why?"

Hermione hesitated, then remained silent.

Ron opened his mouth, looking embarrassed, and silently turned his face away.

Aaron smiled knowingly, then patted him on the shoulder and turned his head around. "Take a good look. Is this a battle you can join?"

Tell me, what level are you at right now?

"I should be almost an intermediate wizard by now!" Harry realized and said somewhat embarrassedly.

"Then please have some self-awareness, okay?"

With your skill level, even a sneak attack from behind wouldn't be very effective, let alone the fact that you don't even have the chance to launch one now.

In their battle, you three wizards, who haven't even mastered offensive spells, are just cannon fodder. The aftershocks of the spells would send you flying.

"And what about you?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Me?" Aaron chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I'm a little better than you guys, just a bit more cannon fodder."

"So that means we can only watch from here?" Hermione asked, unwilling to give up.

“Not exactly,” Aaron said meaningfully. “You can also pray, pray that Dumbledore will return as soon as possible.”

After saying that, Aaron casually found a place to sit and continued to watch the wizard duel on the chessboard.

At this point, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were already struggling to keep up.

The opponent is, after all, the renowned Dark Lord. Although his strength has been greatly reduced, if he recklessly exploits the opponent's life force and fights without regard for the consequences, then the opponent will have to fight desperately to have any chance of winning.

The problem is that neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Snape dared to risk their lives at this moment. If it were just the two of them, they might have had the courage to take a gamble, even if it meant risking their lives.

But there were four junior wizards behind them, and the two of them had to conserve some of their strength to make some plans, at least to protect the students.

Voldemort laughed triumphantly, chanting an obscure incantation, and with a flick of his wand unleashed a deadly dark green beam of light.

The two professors raised their wands in unison, hastily releasing two spells, one red and one white, to barely contend with the green light.

The three spells clashed fiercely in mid-air, advancing and retreating like a tug-of-war, resulting in a stalemate for a time.

"Cough cough!"

Voldemort's face suddenly contorted in a grimace, and he coughed up a mouthful of black blood. The green light was immediately suppressed by the red and white beams of light.

He immediately adjusted his state, suppressed his injuries, and increased the force of channeling magic into the wand, pushing the spell back to its previous position.

The stalemate continued, with the green spell gradually gaining the upper hand, at the cost of Quirrell's body aging at a visible rate.

The two professors were also in bad shape; they were pale and covered in cold sweat.

"That's about it," Aaron murmured as he stood up.

"What's almost done?" Harry asked, puzzled.

“The time is almost right; we can be the last straw that breaks the camel’s back,” Aaron said.

Upon hearing this, Voldemort couldn't help but laugh. "You can try it."

"Don't do anything rash," Professor McGonagall warned. "You're too weak; this isn't something you can handle."

“That’s right,” Snape said expressionlessly.

"Don't worry, I'm quite confident."

“No,” Snape said immediately. “Don’t think that just because you have some talent you can be arrogant. Voldemort’s power is beyond your imagination.”

He could easily use one hand to kill you all.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been waiting until now.” Aaron tossed the red gem in his hand and, to everyone’s astonishment, threw it at Voldemort.

The Philosopher's Stone sliced ​​through the air and hurtled toward Voldemort's head at incredible speed.

The other person was also a little stunned by this sudden surprise, but quickly recovered. With a smile, one hand controlled the wand to resist the two professors, while the other hand quickly opened.

The Philosopher's Stone slowed down instantly and flew into Voldemort's palm.

“This is your idea?” Harry’s lips twitched. “It’s terrible.”

"Is it too late for us to run away now?" Ron asked anxiously.

"Don't rush, let the magic stone fly for a while first."

As soon as he finished speaking, a roar came from the ceiling.

A white shadow swooped down and slammed a claw into Voldemort's back just as he was about to grab the Philosopher's Stone.

Chapter 90 The Impulse to Steal Kills

boom!

The impact was so sudden that Voldemort had no idea someone would attack him from behind, and that it would actually succeed.

Not only did he fail to grasp the Philosopher's Stone, but his continuous magical output was also forced to stop. The two professors' spells instantly overwhelmed Voldemort's Killing Curse and struck him.

"what!"

Voldemort screamed, the intense pain causing his entire body to tremble.

Along with him screamed, Quirrell's face, which had been swapped to the back of his head, also screamed, but he was in a much worse state than the Earthshaker, his face contorted in a grotesque grimace, with blood flowing from his mouth and nose.

Voldemort only experienced the pain briefly before his condition deteriorated further, at which point he could discard the body at any time.

But Professor Quirrell, as the owner of the body, will suffer this irreversible damage until his death.

"Master, I can't... I can't hold on much longer." Professor Quirrell spoke incoherently, his voice broken and fragmented, just like the persona he usually maintained.

But this time it wasn't a pretense; it was real.

"Shut up, you piece of trash."

"You were right behind me, and you didn't even notice the sneak attack!" Voldemort cursed angrily, then turned his attention to the figure that had attacked him.

Not only him, but everyone stared in astonishment at the white figure hovering in mid-air.

“Is that… a dragon?” Hermione murmured.

“I think so!” Ron swallowed. “My brother sent me some photos before. It looks a lot like some juvenile dragons, but... this is so cool!”

I'm sure even Charlie has never seen a dragon whiter and more sacred than a unicorn.

"come over."

Aaron waved, and the young dragon in mid-air flew down.

As it fell, its body shrank rapidly, transforming into the shape of Abe, with a bright red gem in its mouth.

"Good job, you did a good job."

"I'll reward you with a turkey when we get back." Aaron patted its dragon head and then took the magic stone off.

"It's you." Voldemort saw Arbele and remembered being kicked by it in the Forbidden Forest. He was furious and wanted nothing more than to kill it on the spot.

But now his injuries have worsened, and his condition can no longer be described as bad.

Quirrell's body was already on the verge of decay, and no matter how much he hated it, he was powerless to take revenge. Moreover, after calming down, he also felt a little curious about the dragon.

In the magical world, dragons are at the pinnacle of magical creatures, powerful yet rare.

That doesn't mean there's no chance of seeing one, but it's the first time he's ever seen a dragon that has never appeared before and can freely control its size; it's absolutely unique.

"Isn't that it? Doesn't it look familiar?" Aaron teased. "I originally thought I wouldn't need Abe's help, but your strength forced me to do so."

Fortunately, I succeeded.

"Hmph! This isn't luck."

"Your timing was impeccable. Using the Philosopher's Stone as bait, I couldn't refuse." Voldemort looked at Abel, whose demeanor was completely at odds with his previous imposing and domineering presence. "What kind of creature was it?"