Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

"Clark said that struggle is a treat for dinner, you can't have illusions!"

Hermione leaned against the wall slantingly, her wrists hurt from the shock, but her eyes exuded a fearless and indomitable light.

"So, please, go to hell!"

The thin black smoke was like boiling water, gurgling from the back of Quirrell's head, gathering into a cloud above his head.

With the death of the host, Voldemort can no longer possess Quirrell.

It's not like he hasn't tried possessing a dead body before, but what can nourish him is only the fresh vitality. The dead body is like a rotten stinky fish, and it can't satisfy the appetite of the Dark Lord at all.

And with the disintegration of Quirrell's magic power, the whirlwind bound to Clark's body also collapsed, and the pressure on his chest disappeared. Clark took a deep breath. He had never felt the free air so sweet like now.

"Yeah, Lord Voldemort, times have changed." Clark staggered in front of Hermione, took the pistol from her limp little hand, and gave her a big smile at the same time, "Nice job, Hermione." Min."

After speaking, he pointed the pistol steadily at the cloud of black smoke.

"7 bullets? Wouldn't it be enough to add a non-marking stretching spell to the magazine? So, you can bet now, is there any bullets in my gun?"

The black muzzle exuded a different kind of deterrence at this moment, and after a violent tumbling and wriggling of the black smoke, it slowly revealed an ugly face.

"Little guy, you can't kill me with just a gun."

Voldemort spoke very harshly, but Clark could tell that his tone had softened a lot. Is he guilty?

Clark certainly didn't believe in the famous Dark Lord, so he firmly carried out his belief in struggle and pulled the trigger directly.

"boom!"

The gunshots exploded like thunder, directly shaking Voldemort's soul into a dizzy state, and his liver and gallbladder were torn apart.

But the Dark Lord is the Dark Lord after all, and the tiger in trouble is bigger than the hound. He still mobilized his last little "Jomgard's power" when his soul was suppressed, and spit out a miniature dog from his mouth. The long black smoke snake met the bullet.

The platinum bullet collided with the black smoky snake, like the tip of a needle meeting a wheat awn, derived from the devouring power of the mythical ancient snake, greedily wanting to swallow this Muggle creation, but the complicated carvings on the bullet The patterns are stimulated by black magic,

Blooming white light.

Countless holy lightnings jumped on the bullet. This time, even the power of black magic slid away from the bullet. Under Voldemort's shocked eyes, he pierced through the black smoke snake like a bamboo.

"This……"

Before he could say another word, the platinum bullet pierced the sky with a streak of lightning.

Just like Zeus, the god-king of ancient Greece, threw the thunder in his hand and pierced into the black mist.

"This bullet was polished with the sharp horn of the unicorn you hurt. You should taste it!"

As soon as Clark's words fell, the light exploded in the black mist in an instant, and countless white rays of light penetrated through it, tearing Voldemort's face apart.

To Voldemort's remnant soul, that holy power was no less than thunder and electric shocks and burning fire.

He couldn't remember how many times he wailed, and he completely abandoned his last little dark power, leaving the black mist as a bait, and swooped towards Clark with another resentful spirit.

The cold power rushed towards him, Quirrell's resentment was blocked by Voldemort, and his resentful eyes could be seen on the translucent face, but the target of the eyes was not Clark, but blocked by him Hermione.

There is a wrong, and the debt has an owner. It was Hermione who shot and killed Quirrell just now.

Although wizards do not pay attention to the so-called karma like Buddhism, a resentful ghost can still play a similar role in the hands of Voldemort, the master of curses.

Human beings are born to be afraid of death, and they are also afraid of things related to death, such as darkness, such as ghosts.

However, Clark stood firmly in front of Hermione, and his small body looked extraordinarily tall and straight.

He looked at the ghosts rushing towards him, and in his ears was a terrifying scream that hit his heart directly. It was the unwilling wail of the dead and a curse to the living.

But under such a terrifying situation, his muzzle did not show any trembling, and he pointed steadily forward, without blinking his eyes.

When we meet on a narrow road, the brave wins!

In front of the masculine vigor of a boy, all demons and ghosts are paper tigers!

Not to mention he has a gun.

"boom!"

Gunshots rang out.

In the spiritual duel of one person and one ghost, and the competition of willpower, Clark, the newborn tiger, won the victory after all.

The more experienced the Dark Lord was, the more he knew that the bullet that Clark had just shot would definitely not kill him, but it would definitely injure him and leave him behind.

But Clark didn't know what kind of serious consequences would be caused by being entangled and cursed by a wronged soul.

Under the information gap, the ignorant are fearless, but Voldemort was timid at the last moment.

But he still has a bright future. How could a big boss who has been dying for so many years choose to trade with a small soldier?

Therefore, when the gunshot sounded, Voldemort grabbed Quirrell's soul, jumped up silkily, and then ruthlessly thrust him into the air in front of him.

The undead full of death seemed to have turned into a sharp sword in Voldemort's hands, and in an instant a dark crack was opened in the void in front of him, and then the Dark Lord plunged in without looking back.

It is advisable to use the remaining courage to chase the poor, and not to be known as the overlord.

Seeing the enemy fleeing in a hurry, Clark only had time to chase after his tail and fired a few more shots. Unfortunately, the rest of the magazines were only ordinary bullets.

Clark also tricked Voldemort, the unicorn named Golden Mane was very stingy, even knowing that Clark was going to deal with the bad guys who hurt him, he was only willing to donate the short tip of his horn .

Therefore, there is actually only one pure magic-breaking holy light bullet in Clark's gun, and the rest is just coated with a layer of excess powder from polishing, and some ordinary bullets.

Of course, Voldemort didn't know this, but under the thunderous gunshots, he escaped faster.

"I will remember you..."

The mourning of the loser went away like this, leaving only a long and narrow gap in the void, overflowing with a faint cold and dead air, like the white mist after opening the refrigerator, but it was suppressed back by the golden light in the room.

Clark also didn't expect that the battle with Voldemort would end in such a way. Tonight's battle was really too difficult. He even thought that Voldemort, who had nowhere to escape, would choose to fight himself to the death and then parasitize himself body.

In that case, with the godhead fragments in his mind, he might be able to harvest a remnant soul.

However, this Dark Lord, relying on a fresh soul and a little knowledge of mysticism, tore open a hole leading to the underworld from the defensive barrier of Hogwarts Castle.