Hermione swallowed the potion. It was as cold as ice, and the sensation instantly spread throughout her body. Without pausing, she strode firmly through the high wall of black flames.
For a moment, she seemed to see nothing but darkness. When she saw light again, she was frozen to the spot.
What kind of magic could make a room look like this?
Standing here was like standing on the surface of a perfectly calm, mirror-like lake. In fact, her feet were indeed on the surface of the water, but she hadn't fallen through.
And in the center of this lake, there was a greyish-white rock platform. At this moment, someone was already standing on it.
"You!" Hermione couldn't help but exclaim as she looked at the familiar back.
It wasn't Snape, nor was it Voldemort. It was the stuttering, seemingly timid Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—Quirinus Quirrell.
Quirrell was still wearing his ridiculous turban. His presence here sent a chill down Hermione's spine.
Quirrell turned around and smiled at the astonished Hermione.
Now, his face was no longer twitching, and he spoke as smoothly and fluently as anyone else.
"It is I," he said calmly. "I was just wondering if I would meet Potter here. But I suppose it is not so surprising that you, Miss Granger, have made it this far."
"Oh! It was you! Snape was watching out for you all along! That's why Harry mistakenly thought Snape wanted to—" Hermione was quite clever, and thanks to Marcel, she didn't have the same intense dislike for Snape as Harry did.
She thought it over carefully and quickly pieced together the cause and effect.
"Snape?" Quirrell burst out laughing. This laugh was not his usual high-pitched, grating cackle, but a chillingly cold one.
"Yes, Snape does seem like a bad sort, doesn't he? Flying around like an oversized bat. It's been very helpful to us. With him lurking about, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-st-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"
"No, I believe Professor Dumbledore noticed," Hermione said, forcing down the unease and fear in her heart as she pretended to look down at the lake. "Am I right, Professor Dumbledore?"
Quirrell was clearly startled and trembled all over. He took a few stuttering steps back, his eyes fixed on the lake's surface, but he saw nothing.
"No—impossible!" Quirrell shouted madly. "Dumbledore has been tricked into going to London! He can't be here at this time!"
"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione continued, feeling that Marcel had corrupted her, as she had actually learned to lie. "I think Professor Quirrell has just lost his way. He must have been tempted, otherwise he would never have done such a thing. After all, to steal the Philosopher's Stone under your protection is clearly impossible."
Quirrell was trembling all over. He kept repeating "impossible" as he backed toward the center of the stone platform. He knew that with Dumbledore's unfathomable magical power, he could return at any moment. Or perhaps—Dumbledore had never even left?
"Fool!"
A voice suddenly rang out from somewhere behind Quirrell. It was a hoarse and feeble voice, filled with a terrifying coldness and ruthlessness.
"The little girl is lying to you! Dumbledore is not here!" the voice roared. "If you dare to run, I will make you wish you were dead!"
Quirrell was so frightened by this voice that he fell to his knees, trembling and begging for mercy.
"Vold-Voldemort!" Hermione said in terror.
"Seize her!"
Voldemort shrieked. Quirrell immediately flicked his wand, sending Hermione's own wand flying into the distance with a Disarming Charm. With another flick, a magical rope instantly bound Hermione tightly.
Hermione fell to the ground. Quirrell paid her no more mind and, following Voldemort's command, continued to study the secret of the room.
"Master, this must be it," Quirrell said in a low voice. "There is nothing on this platform but a sword stuck in the ground."
"Pull out the sword!" Voldemort said in a low voice.
Quirrell immediately reached out, gripped the sword embedded in the center of the platform, but he couldn't pull it out.
"Hmph, let me see for myself," Voldemort snorted coldly, commanding Quirrell.
"But, Master... your strength has not yet recovered!"
"This much strength... I still have."
Hermione struggled but found she couldn't move at all. She watched as Quirrell raised his hands to unwind his turban. What was happening? The large turban fell away, and Quirrell's bare head looked strangely small.
"Oh—"
From Hermione's angle, it was easy to see. There was a terrifying face on the back of Quirrell's head! The face was as pale as chalk, with glowing red eyes and two slit-like nostrils like a snake's.
Those eyes swept over Hermione, making her hold her breath. The next moment, Quirrell turned his back to her.
"Mmm—oh, yes. The Sword of Gryffindor, stuck in a rock?" Voldemort's low, raspy voice was filled with a hint of mockery. "Dumbledore's little trick. It looks rather familiar."
"Bring that little girl over here. Let her pull out the sword. Here, only she can do it."
"Yes, Master," Quirrell replied cautiously.
He walked over to Hermione, roughly pulled on the ropes binding her, and dragged her over to the Sword of Gryffindor.
Hermione couldn't help but look at the sword. It was a two-handed cruciform sword with intricate patterns, and a ruby on the hilt that shone with a brilliant light. It was stuck diagonally in the platform and didn't look difficult to pull out, but Quirrell had used all his strength and failed to move it.
"The Sword in the Stone?" Seeing this scene, Hermione couldn't help but blurt out her guess.
"Hmph, this is just a little trick Dumbledore cooked up, copying the story of the Sword in the Stone," Voldemort said dismissively. "Pull it out quickly, complete your task, and stop talking."
Hermione bit her lip and said nothing, not moving an inch.
"Quirrell!" Voldemort roared, seeing this.
"Yes, Master!" Quirrell immediately pulled Hermione up, flicked his wand to release the ropes, and then forcefully pressed her hand onto the hilt of the sword.
"Pull! Or would you like Quirrell to give you an Imperius Curse?"
At Voldemort's furious roar, Hermione became truly frightened. She had never met anyone so terrifying.
Moreover, in the Occlumency notebook that Marcel had given to Harry, she had seen some information about the Imperius Curse. It was an extremely terrible spell. It could directly control a person's soul, making the victim do anything under someone else's control.
Hermione grasped the hilt with a trembling hand and found the sword surprisingly light. With just a slight pull, she drew it out. The ground beneath it crumbled, revealing a small space below.
"Hahahaha—I see it, it's down there!" Voldemort laughed. "Quirrell, take it out! Your time to be rewarded has come!"
Quirrell quickly turned, pushed Hermione's frail body aside, and swiftly reached down.
"Oh—the Philosopher's Stone! It really is the Philosopher's Stone! Master, I have it for you!" Quirrell held the translucent, crimson gem, which had a faint golden glow inside, high up for Voldemort to see.
"Heh heh heh—hahaha—good, well done! You will receive your due reward," Voldemort said, looking happily at the stone, the red light in his eyes growing deeper. "With this, I will be able to resurrect perfectly and return to this wonderful world with true immortality! Haha—er—"
Voldemort was halfway through his sentence when he saw Hermione leap up and slap the stone to the ground. Voldemort forcefully twisted Quirrell's neck to watch as it hit the ground hard and, with a crack, shattered into pieces.
"No—how is this possible! You little girl, I will—" Voldemort's fury reached its peak. He looked at Hermione as if he had gone mad, but then he suddenly stopped speaking.
Hermione scrambled back in fear. She didn't know where she had found the courage to do that, but she knew she was in danger.
But after waiting for a good while by the wall of black flames, Hermione found that Voldemort wasn't looking at her at all. He was staring at the calm lake, lost in thought.
"...The Sword in the Stone, heh heh, the Sword in the Stone?" Voldemort said hatefully. "What Sword in the Stone! I almost fell for that old man's trick!"
"M-M-Master, wh-what is it?" Quirrell was still in shock, his stutter now real.
"Arthur may have pulled out the Sword in the Stone, but it was not what led him to his greatest glory!" Voldemort seemed to be explaining, and also talking to himself. "The Sword in the Stone broke in a duel. Then his dear friend and mentor—that wizard Merlin—took him to a lakeside, where he received the 'Sword in the Lake' from the hands of the Lady of the Lake. That is the true 'Excalibur'!"
"So—that was a fake Philosopher's Stone. The real one is in the lake?" Quirrell followed up.
"Make that stupid little girl stick the Sword of Gryffindor into the lake's surface!" Voldemort roared.
Seeing Quirrell walking towards her, Hermione immediately raised the wand she had secretly managed to retrieve, but Quirrell disarmed her again. It was obvious she was no match for him.
It seemed the rumor that Quirrell had once been an outstanding student at Hogwarts was indeed true.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" A simple levitation charm, but under his control, Hermione was sent flying into the air, then suddenly dropped.
When the tip of the Sword of Gryffindor touched the surface of the lake, Hermione immediately felt the ground become unstable beneath her, and then she was surrounded by cold—she had fallen into the water!
The surface of the lake began to churn. Before long, a crimson stone suddenly flew out of the lake and was summoned into Quirrell's hand with a wave of his wand.
"I've got it! I've got it! It's the real one this time!" Quirrell shouted excitedly.
"And it's all thanks to that stupid little girl, heh heh—" said Voldemort. "What are you waiting for? Get out of here! Now!"
At his words, Quirrell paid no mind to the turbulent water. He jumped into it and swam towards the exit. And not far away, Hermione, after hearing Voldemort's last words, finally succumbed to exhaustion and sank beneath the water.