Harry Potter and the Candy Factory

As the door closed, Quirrell finally seemed to have all the strength drained from his body, unable to stand any longer. ♦ ♦     ♦ ♦ Google 搜索 阅读

With a "thump," his legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the ground.

His upper body leaned against the wooden door, his chest heaving violently, like a fish about to drown, gasping for breath.

After a long while, he finally slowly untied the turban on his head, which was already soaked with sweat, revealing his bald head and, on the back of his head, that constantly wriggling, hideous, and disgusting face – his master, Voldemort, who could only survive by parasitizing on others in such a pathetic state.

"You废物! ! ! !"

The moment the turban was removed, it was as if some seal had been broken, and Voldemort's blurred face wriggled even more violently.

He opened his mouth as wide as possible and roared at Quirrell in a hoarse voice.

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"How dare you… How dare you be so presumptuous! !"

Quirrell's face immediately turned pale. Ignoring his body, which still couldn't muster any strength, he staggered up from the ground and barely managed to change his original posture, kneeling down.

His upper body seemed to exert all its strength, trying to press against the floor as much as possible, placing the face on the back of his head at the very top.

His whole body trembled like a sieve, even more so than when he had faced Charlie just now.

It was as if every character of that hoarse voice was like an excruciating Cruciatus Curse, hitting his brain directly.

"Sorry… Sorry… My great master… Sorry."

Quirrell's forehead pressed hard against the floor, his eyes tightly shut in pain, his lips trembling so much that he couldn't even utter a complete sentence, only repeating "sorry" continuously, like a broken machine.

"Tell me! ! ! You damned fool! ! ! What were you thinking! ! ! Why… Why did you provoke that plague god at this time! ! !"

But even though Quirrell had become so humble, Voldemort still didn't show any sign of calming down. He was still wriggling frantically on the back of Quirrell's head, as if wanting to rush out from inside and kill this foolish waste on the spot.

Quirrell shuddered, his eyes frightened open again, but he still didn't dare to lift his head, only pressing it hard against the floor. His eyes looked at the dusty wood grain above, and he replied tremblingly,

"Please, please forgive your servant's ignorance, my great master… I originally thought that when, when you are resurrected… our resurgence would need, need money."

As Quirrell spoke, sweat flowed down uncontrollably again, dripping from his head and wetting the floor below.

"And he… is a rich fellow, and his candy factory is very hidden. Even the Ministry of Magic wouldn't check it…"

Listening to Quirrell's words, the furious expression on Voldemort's face on the back of his head paused. Amused and angry, he interrupted the other party's unfinished words and continued in that voice that was enough to make goosebumps crawl all over one's body.

"So you thought… how wonderful it would be if you could control him… Just a simple Imperius Curse would subtly make him your puppet, take his factory for yourself, and then seize everything he has… You damned fool! ! ! ! ! !"

At the end of his words, that anger finally burst out completely and could no longer be suppressed.

He roared madly, the voice inciting the invisible magic around him, and for a time, it swept out in a ring from him as the center.

"Boom… Rumble"

Cracks faintly appeared in the window glass, and the stacked lesson plans on the desk were directly blown away.

More than a dozen densely written papers scattered and flew around, spilling into all parts of the room.

"My master! I am willing to accept your punishment for the foolish actions I have taken. Please calm your anger."

Quirrell shuddered all over. Seeing that the commotion was getting bigger and bigger, he didn't care about anything else. His eyes showed fearful sincerity as he pleaded.

He knew that this was Hogwarts… The fact that he could appear here in the first place was already extremely difficult. He had been as careful as a mouse, and only then had he managed to have these few days of peace.

If this situation really alerted the "White Wizard" sitting in the academy, the ending would be a certain death! !

Fortunately, although Voldemort was furious, his reason still remained.

He restrained the aura that had been inadvertently raging and retreated back under Quirrell's skin, panting like a person as he wriggled.

"You were deceived by his appearance, weren't you? Did you think that such a young face couldn't possibly be a magic master? Or did his identity as the so-called candy factory owner make him look more like a businessman with no power to restrain a chicken?"

Although he had retreated back to hiding, Voldemort was still rambling on.

"If it weren't for me, constantly trying to hide my existence, restraining my aura, and not being noticed by him, do you know what would have happened? ! I really should kill you… If I could, I would give you ten Cruciatus Curses! ! !"

"Actually, my great master… we can think about it in a positive way."

Quirrell gasped for breath. Perhaps because he had talked Charlie into retreating before, he now intended to use this newly developed skill on Voldemort again.

"At least, the silver lining is… we know that Charlie Black is not on Dumbledore's side… In fact, he seems to prefer you and, like me, believes in your great power in his heart."

"Hmph…" Voldemort's voice lowered. He snorted coldly, with a hint of disdain in his voice, but also a certain seriousness.

"He doesn't favor anyone… Charlie Black is just a damned opportunist… He is far more cunning, more powerful… more terrifying than you think."

Quirrell frowned, his Adam's apple moved slightly, but he didn't speak.

Even though he had infinitely elevated his perception of Charlie Black in his heart, he still hadn't expected that his master would give him such a high evaluation.

Voldemort's tone suddenly changed, and he continued,

"But what if that's the case? He is a damned opportunist, which is just right for me now… If I can really be resurrected, what does it matter to owe him a favor?"

"My foolish servant… The only right thing you did today was what you just said to him."

"What is it, my master?" Quirrell quickly asked.

"As long as the benefits are great enough… any misunderstanding can be resolved."