"Why? Hermione, it should be you and Harry going. You're much more useful than me."
After hearing Hermione's words, Neville cried out directly.
"There's almost nothing you don't know."
Hermione's title as a know-it-all wasn't earned for nothing—her knowledge reserves were even richer than these children who had grown up in the wizarding world. She could find appropriate spells to deal with almost any situation.
"Listen to me, Neville..." Hermione said calmly, "You and Harry have the strongest combat abilities among us."
If Hermione had the most knowledge among them, then Harry and Neville were the strongest in actual combat. Yes, actual combat.
After receiving group tutoring from the professors, Harry had fully demonstrated his amazing talent. His learning progress wasn't fast, but his growth was exceptionally rapid.
As for Neville, it was combat instinct. He often imitated Dudley's fighting style, though not as powerfully. Actually, there was also Malfoy, but he was currently unconscious.
As for Ron, these weren't his areas of expertise—he had more suitable methods...
"In terms of knowledge reserves, you're actually not much worse than me. Especially you, Harry. You've been secretly studying during this time, haven't you?"
The named Harry scratched his head embarrassedly. He had indeed been studying in secret. More and more people were calling Dudley "Big D," which made him feel threatened.
I was here first, and I'm the real little brother.
It wasn't that he didn't want Dudley to be popular—it was just some inner emotion causing trouble.
Ron stared at Harry with wide, incredulous eyes. 'Don't we eat, sleep, train, and play together? How did I not know you were secretly studying?'
Hermione instructed again, "Harry, Neville, the rest is up to you! But don't force yourselves—I think Dudley will be here soon."
Harry asked, "But if we drink the potion, what about Big D?"
"Dudley will definitely find a way, because that's Dudley!" Hermione said with full confidence.
'Yes, that's Dudley—he'll definitely find a way.'
"Mm!" Harry and Neville looked at each other and nodded firmly.
So Neville and Harry each drank half the potion and entered the wall of fire. Almost simultaneously, an invisible shadow followed them in.
This was a spacious room with nothing inside except a mirror placed in the center. There was no door at the back of the room, meaning this was the final chamber.
'Maybe we can complete the test before Big D arrives.'
Such thoughts couldn't help but arise in Harry's mind.
"Harry... this mirror? Come look quickly!"
A scream interrupted Harry's thoughts. Neville stood before the mirror, staring intently at the scene within.
Harry walked over and recognized the mirror—it was the same one he'd seen during Christmas vacation. The Mirror of Erised.
"I saw my parents—they! They've recovered!"
Neville looked extremely excited, almost ready to cry.
"Listen to me, Neville... that's not real!"
Having heard Dudley explain the Mirror of Erised's principles, Harry hurried forward to comfort the excited Neville: "Calm down."
"I also saw my parents in there, but it was false, illusory."
"Potter is quite right."
A strange voice rang out. Harry turned around and saw a familiar yet strange figure standing in the corner of the room.
It was the only professor among all of them who hadn't tutored them... Professor Quirrell.
The professor who had fainted from fright at the Halloween feast when faced with the troll. Now he had completely changed, standing at the doorway with an entirely different attitude than before.
"I didn't expect to meet you here, Potter."
His speech had no stuttering—his original stammering characteristic had completely disappeared.
Quirrell stared at Harry with a dark expression, though he seemed to be intentionally concealing his buttocks area, and his expression looked somewhat unnatural.
Professor Quirrell is the final test? No, something's wrong.
Suddenly, the scar on Harry's forehead began to hurt violently, accompanied by an intense burning sensation. The feeling made him think his head was about to split open.
"Harry Potter!"
In his daze, Harry seemed to hear another voice—a voice that didn't belong to Quirrell at all.
"Let me see him! Face-to-face!"
Quirrell's expression was very unnatural. He wanted to say something, but the owner of this voice made resistance impossible. He slowly unwound the thick turban wrapped around his head, turned around, and revealed the back of his skull—definitely not a normal person's back of the head. Another twisted, distorted human face was growing there.
"Look what I've become!"
The twisted face began to speak, not through vocal cords—it didn't have such things. Its mouth opened and closed in a terrifying manner.
"Only shadows and vapor remain—all because of you, Potter!"
Voldemort—or rather, just Voldemort's remaining soul.
"Because of you! All because of you, I can now only share a body with others."
"But I never dreamed you would appear before me."
As he spoke, Voldemort actually took reverse control of Quirrell's body, raising his wand. With a light lift, countless ropes appeared from nowhere, binding Harry layer upon layer.
Faced with the enormous difference in power, Harry had no ability to resist. Whether in experience, magical power, or knowledge, he was far inferior to his opponent—even if it was just a remnant soul.
Voldemort carefully examined Harry, finding nothing different about him from other young wizards: "Look, no matter how I look, you're clearly just an extremely ordinary, common little wizard. Why... why were you able to kill that perfect me, that powerful me, eleven years ago?"
His tone carried deep confusion and questioning, while his eyes were already filled with naked killing intent. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—a chance to kill Harry Potter.
While the opponent was talking with Harry, Neville secretly pulled out several seeds from his pocket. A spell hit Neville's wrist, and the seeds scattered across the floor.
"Don't try any tricks in front of me, little one."
Only then did Voldemort notice Neville. Upon seeing him, his blood-red pupils contracted.
"Neville... Neville Longbottom!"
He recognized Neville's identity, which brought back some unpleasant memories.
As everyone knows, wizards don't believe in science—they believe in prophecies. In that prophecy about destroying the Dark Lord years ago, it wasn't just Harry—another person also met the requirements. That meant there should have been two prophesied children capable of killing the Dark Lord.
One was the famous Harry Potter, and the other was Neville Longbottom standing before him.
Theoretically, the savior was among them—Voldemort had simply chosen Harry.
Voldemort looked at the two with a complex expression. Even as the Dark Lord, his heart began to waver slightly, to feel a hint of panic.
'Could that prophecy be about to come true again?!'
Would he have to choose again? And then die again?
No! Never!
[Chapter Complete]
***
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