A broken Hogwarts

Chapter 70 Quirrell’s miserable life

It's a new week, and the atmosphere in Hogwarts is still peaceful.

The ghosts were busy preparing for the weekend ghost festival. After receiving Owen's affirmative answer, almost every ghost had a joyful smile on his face, and their silvery-white figures could be seen flying around in the castle corridors.

Professor Quirrell is having a hard time, because these days he is always unlucky enough to be affected by inexplicable things. Every time he walks out of the office, it feels like he is about to experience a thrilling duel, as if he is being paid special attention to by the goddess of misfortune.

of.

On the first day of this week, he was hit on the back of the head by a dung egg thrown from above on the stairs. It turned out that Peeves was playing tricks on two little wizards on the top of the stairs, and he accidentally dropped the dung egg.

above him, and then the mischievous ghost floated away with his tongue hanging out.

The dung eggs exploded on Quirrell's head, and the foul-smelling brown juice exploded all over his head and face. Even the big purple scarf on his head was soaked. Quirrell ran back with a stinking smell, crying and howling.

He left his office, and it was said that the sobbing could be heard from far away.

But his bad luck didn't stop there. The next day in the corridor, someone threw a handful of fireworks. The fireworks flying around lit the big scarf on his head, turning his head into a

There is a blazing torch that cannot be extinguished no matter how hard it is put out.

Ignoring the burning pain, Quirrell raised his hands to cover the back of his head and ran for his life. While fearfully dodging the chandeliers falling from the ceiling, he trudged through the chandeliers that were piled haphazardly in the corridor.

After clearing the desks, chairs and benches, he finally got into the office before his mind went crazy.

But Quirrell was a strong man. Even though there were big blisters on his forehead, he still resolutely refused Madam Pomfrey's request to apply ointment on the back of his head, which was more severely burned. The next day

He stood in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class with a new scarf on his head. Well, according to him, this was the second scarf given to him by the African prince.

The little wizards were in awe of Professor Quirrell's unwillingness to take off his scarf even if he was injured, but they all agreed that the scarf on his head hid a big secret. Otherwise, they would insist on wearing the scarf even if they were burned.

Aren't you afraid of catching maggots?

The Weasley twins happily opened a bet and started a Quirrell guessing game, which attracted the participation of many young wizards. People were betting on whether the big scarf on Quirrell's head would be filled with

Garlic, caterpillars or dragon dung, some people bet that he is bald or has dysentery...

Deep red vapor continuously emerges from the top of the liquid, like a small mushroom cloud that lasts forever. The strange aroma comes from it. If you smell it for a while, it will make people feel intoxicated.

Feel.

"I'm sorry, Owen." Harry said quickly, and then he became restless. Although Owen often teased him, he never lied to him in serious matters. Although it was really nonsense to exchange a mouse for a relative,

But what if it's true?

"No, what's the point of studying? And the name is too stupid." Blaise pulled the red string of the box in his hand, and a large group of human-faced moths flew out. In the blink of an eye, he was drowned by countless screams and fists.

.

"Tsk tsk, it's just a title. If you're arrogant enough, it doesn't matter if you want to call it a saint." Owen put Melete in the armchair indifferently and left the lounge alone. Melete seemed to be aware of it.

Looking at his back, he called out softly, then rolled himself into a ball.

Harry was flipping through the textbook absentmindedly. Ever since he left the room where the Mirror of Erised was last time, he had often been in this state of trance, looking like a poor little kid who missed his parents.

"Peeves, well done!" Owen, who saw this scene from a distance, almost laughed out loud. You are asked to pretend to be a pig and eat the tiger. You have been playing the role for a long time, and it will be difficult to take it off.

The strange thing is that the smell coming from the door today is no longer the pungent smell of garlic before, but a fragrant aroma, not like the smell of flowers or food, but not annoying at all.

After Owen was gloating over the show and feeding Mrs. Norris some dried fish, he just returned to the lounge when he received a notice to go to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office in the afternoon. He crumpled the note into paper with an expressionless expression.

He stuffed the ball into his hand, then blew into his palm, and the note turned into confetti and scattered everywhere.

"Ahem, do you know Ron Weasley?" Owen coughed slightly and said.

As the little wizards waited eagerly, Quirrell's situation became more and more difficult. At the end of class that day, he had just walked out of the classroom when a hook fell from the sky and caught the big scarf above his head. Although Quirrell was caught off guard,

But he still quickly raised his hand to cover it. As a result, his whole body was hung high in the air by the hook that suddenly rose, kicking his legs like a live fish waiting to be dried.

Melete, who was sleeping in, happened to be sprinkled with confetti. She wrinkled her face and sneezed, then got up, licked her shiny hair diligently, and took the trouble to bathe herself.

What he was even more curious about was whether Voldemort's face on the back of Quirrell's head was covered in blisters? Well, the picture was too beautiful to think about.

Dreams always have to be had, what if they come true?

Seeing the savior's excited look, Owen shrugged, turned to Blaise, who was playing with those weird gadgets, and said, "By the way, Blaise, do you really not want to join our strongest study group?"

?”

"He has a pet mouse named Scabbers. As long as you catch it and give it to Dumbledore, if nothing happens, you will get a relative." Owen said with a lazy smile.

"Actually, Harry, I think you still have a relative." Owen couldn't stand this expression the most, so he said with an unfathomable expression. Then, he saw Harry's emerald green eyes radiating with emotion.

His wolf-like green eyes looked like he wanted to eat someone.

Irving didn't mind watching the fun, and Dadi anonymously threw in ten gold galleons to show his appreciation and encouragement for this game.

Thinking like this, Harry's mind had already turned to the question of how to get the mouse from Ron Weasley.

"Oh, thank you, I didn't know my relatives could be related to mice." Harry said in a bad mood. He felt that Owen was making fun of him.

"Professor Quirrell, good afternoon. What kind of potion is this?" Owen greeted him very cordially, as if he were visiting a relative. He looked at the pot of potion, even though he knew how to identify the potion.

But I couldn't figure out what kind of potion was in front of me, but it was definitely not a potion for treating burns.

Owen was walking in the dark corridor, and the thought of Voldemort made him sick. All cat lovers should strongly boycott him!

With this in mind, Owen knocked on the door of Quirrell's office and opened the door after hearing a "come in" from inside the door.

"Tsk, Harry, when did I lie to you?" Owen spread his hands, looking disappointed and sad.

"I know, the Gryffindor one." Harry nodded.

Owen glanced at the figure sitting behind the desk. Well, it was Quirrell himself.

His spirit suddenly relaxed, Owen walked into the door with a smile, and saw a pot of boiling potion on the desk in front of Quirrell. The flame under the crucible was burning brightly, and the crimson liquid was splashing lively.

It's beating in the crucible and looks like fine red wine.

Facing Harry's suspicious eyes, he said seriously: "Of course, you have to pay attention to a few points. That mouse is very difficult to deal with, timid and very smart. Don't let it know your purpose, otherwise it will

You will run away without hesitation, and then your loved ones will be like fireworks, disappearing in a 'bang'."

"Ah ah ah, Professor Quirrell has hanged himself!" the little wizards below screamed.

Quirrell glanced sideways at the pot of potion, then quickly looked away, and said proudly: "You don't need to know."

"Okay." Owen nodded thoughtfully, and then said with a smile, "Professor Quirrell, do you need some ointment to treat burns? In other words, I also have chocolates and candies here. Eating some sweets will help keep you in a good mood.

oh."

Quirrell's expression suddenly became ugly, and a trace of hatred and fear emerged in his eyes involuntarily. He snorted coldly, gritted his teeth and said: "I know that someone has been targeting me recently... When I no longer need to disguise myself,

When the time comes, I guarantee that person will die in pain."

"Ah, come on." Owen made a perfunctory gesture of cheering, then tilted his head and said, "Then why did you call me here?"

(End of chapter)