People are in Hogwarts, What the hell is the flood system?

Chapter 158 We are going to name it Quirrell's Curse Syndrome

Soon, Madam Pomfrey hurried from the hospital wing to Quirrell's office.

Looking at Quirrell, who was convulsing on the ground in pain, Madam Pomfrey's voice rose eight octaves.

"Professor Quirrell?"

"Which little wizard threw dungbombs at you again?!"

Quirrell gasped for breath with difficulty.

"A curse, it's a curse!"

"Quick, is there any magic to cure curses?"

Madam Pomfrey breathed a slight sigh of relief upon hearing this.

"Oh, it's just a curse. Sometimes little wizards learn a few curses and like to use them randomly in school."

"But it doesn't matter, I have a lot of experience dealing with these curses."

Immediately, Madam Pomfrey waved her wand.

"Just like this, like this, and then like this..."

"The pain caused by the curse will be healed. Professor Quirrell, are you feeling better?"

Quirrell was still in pain, rolling around on the ground.

"No, not at all."

"It hurts, it's killing me!"

Madam Pomfrey was a little frustrated. After pondering for a moment, she took out bottle after bottle of common potions used to dispel curses and poured them down Quirrell's throat.

"How about now?"

Quirrell shook his head repeatedly.

"I don't feel anything at all. These potions don't seem to be able to reach the place where the curse is taking effect. They're useless!"

Madam Pomfrey's expression became extremely solemn, as if she was at a loss.

Just then, Snape strode in, his brow furrowed.

"Professor Quirrell, did you send a message asking me to come over?"

"You said you were cursed?"

Snape sized up Quirrell's appearance, feeling a strange sensation in his heart.

He had long suspected that Quirrell was Voldemort's henchman, who had come to Hogwarts to steal the Philosopher's Stone.

But that shouldn't be. Even if a Dark Wizard wasn't proficient in curses, they would certainly have means to defend against them.

How could he be tormented like this by a curse?

"Have you used the common potions and counter-curse spells?"

Snape asked Madam Pomfrey.

After receiving an affirmative answer, he pondered for a moment and took out the potions he carried with him.

"Since the common methods don't work, it seems this is a very tricky curse."

"Here, try this, a potion I concocted myself to remove powerful curses."

Quirrell almost couldn't wait to take the potion and drink it.

Snape's potion-making skills were well known. His potion should be effective, right?

But to Quirrell's despair, after drinking the potion, he could indeed feel a warm current washing over his body.

However, it had no effect on alleviating the strange curse he was suffering from.

After this warm current washed over the painful area, it was as if nothing had happened, and the pain continued.

Next, Snape tried several more potions in succession.

But not only did Quirrell's curse not lessen, but he also developed one boil after another on his body.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Snape in surprise, while Snape shrugged his shoulders.

"He's drunk so many potions in a short period of time, of course there will be some adverse reactions."

"Although he will suffer a little, he is already suffering, so it doesn't matter if he suffers a little more, right?"

At this time, Snape looked at the miserable Quirrell, his expression becoming more and more strange.

"This curse is very tricky. Logically speaking, these potions should have corresponded to several systems of curses, so why is there no effect at all?"

"Professor Quirrell, as things stand, it seems I can only try one last method."

"Curse collision, using more curses to counteract the effects of your curse. This process may be a bit painful and may cause some after-effects of the curse."

"But these all have mature treatment plans, which is better than letting the curse on your body continue."

Quirrell couldn't bear it anymore at this time.

Any method would do, as long as it could remove this damned pain, he was willing to do anything.

"Hurry up, I can take it!"

Immediately, Snape chanted a spell in a low voice, and with a wave of his wand, one curse after another fell on Quirrell's body.

He was indeed worthy of being called the Half-Blood Prince, a genius who knew more magic than seventh-graders when he first entered school. Over the years, although he was known to the world for his Potions skills, his Dark Arts strength was not to be underestimated. He could use various curses with ease.

Madam Pomfrey's eyelids twitched as she watched. If these curses were used by students at Hogwarts, it would not be impossible to confine them for half a semester or even expel them directly.

But now, he was using them on Quirrell in almost every way possible.

But it would have been fine if it had worked, but the theoretical curse collision effect never appeared, and instead these new curses took effect one after another.

Quirrell was simply too miserable to look at, and his screams were so shrill that they were horrifying.

"Snape?"

Snape shifted his eyes with some guilt.

"It seems that curse collision doesn't work either..."

Quirrell's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but want to curse.

But the next moment, Ron, who was casting the Nail Head Seven Arrows Book spell with Leian, had already planned to give up, but he was still unwilling.

"Just now, my feel wasn't good. Maybe I'm not suitable for bows and arrows. Our family has Quidditch genes. I should use something round."

As he spoke, he picked up a stone and threw it at the scarecrow, hitting the scarecrow's chest and abdomen.

"Look!"

"I hit it!"

"Watch me do it again!"

One stone after another hit the scarecrow, but Quirrell felt as if he was being run over by semi-trailer trucks, and once again let out a shrill scream. The curses to Snape were interrupted before they could even be uttered.

Seeing Quirrell's appearance at this moment, Snape and Madam Pomfrey exchanged glances.

"Should we transfer him to St. Mungo's Hospital?"

...

After a long time, Ron, who had proven his feel problem, finally let go of the poor scarecrow with satisfaction.

Quirrell finally woke up weakly in St. Mungo's Hospital.

As soon as he woke up, he was startled by the wizards surrounding his bed.

"This is St. Mungo's Hospital?"

"You, who are you?"

A wizard wearing a hospital uniform introduced himself.

"I am a doctor in the Curse Recovery Department of St. Mungo's Hospital. As for these, they are my classmates when I was studying medical magic, as well as my teacher at the time, and my teacher's teacher."

"Your situation is too complicated. My knowledge alone is not enough to deal with it, so I called all the curse-related wizards I know to help."

Quirrell breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing this.

Did all the relevant scholars in the British magical world come?

"That's really great. No wonder I woke up from this tricky curse. Thank you, thank you so much!"

Thinking that this curse that had caused him unbearable pain had finally been removed, Quirrell's eyes were filled with tears.

But what made him uneasy was that the wizards beside the bed all shifted their eyes guiltily.

The doctor at St. Mungo's Hospital coughed twice and said with a forced smile.

"That's right, Professor Quirrell, we have good news and bad news to tell you. Which one do you want to hear first?"

Quirrell's heart gradually sank.

He took a deep breath, feeling that he might not be able to withstand the stimulation of the bad news.

"How about, let's hear the good news first."

These wizards immediately became beaming.

"The good news is that this is definitely a moment to be recorded in the history of curse studies, and it will occupy a page in magical history."

"An unprecedented curse, countless curses have formed a very special effect, unprecedented, we dare to bet that such a situation has never occurred in history."

"Your situation is of great significance to the study of curses. Therefore, we have decided to jointly publish a paper to discuss this situation, and we have unanimously determined that this new curse and its various complications should be named after you—"

"Quirrell Curse Syndrome!"

Quirrell was stunned for a moment, his newly awakened mind still a little dazed.

Is this a good thing?

Am I going to become a celebrity?

The peak of his academic career?

Then, he subconsciously asked.

"Then what's the bad news?"

The doctor was silent for a moment, then quickly organized his words.

"Actually, I think that this bad news can also be understood as even better news to some extent."

"That is—"

"You will further appreciate the value of life. Every day from now on, Professor Quirrell will feel that this is a rare day in life."

"Sunshine, rain, breeze, white clouds, what wonderful things, you will definitely pay more attention to these beauties that you have ignored in the past."

"In this way, in a limited time, you can expand the infinite width."

"In addition, with our research and paper publication, although the body dies, the name can be passed down in magical history. If I were to use a word to describe it, I would say—"

"Though dead, still honored!!!"