"It's been delayed long enough." Voldemort's voice was full of impatience.

"Oh, master, I can do it, it's just a few little bugs, I'll be able to get rid of them soon."

Quirrell was like a student who was like a bell ringing, but the roll was not finished, and he wanted to struggle again.

As he coped with Voldemort's urging, he sideways dodged the trunk of the tree that Hagrid had thrown, and unexpectedly, there was a Clark hidden in the canopy.

The pale blue activation rope was extremely close to Quirrell, like a snake out of a hole, burrowing out of the gap between the branches and leaves, and wrapped around his right wrist before he could react.

The physical version of "Remove Your Weapon" has been successfully launched!

"No!"

The hand holding the staff was locked, and Quirrell was shocked by the sudden change.

You must know that British wizards have long been accustomed to wand casting, and their long-term dependence has led to the so-called wandless spellcasting, which has become a very clever spell-casting technique.

Without a wand, there would be no difference between a regular wizard and a Muggle.

Nick, who was almost headless at the beginning, was cut off forty-five times by a blunt axe because his wand was robbed of his wand, making it impossible for him to escape from the prison.

In desperation, Quirrell hurriedly pulled his right hand, trying to break free from the rope.

However, the magic rope made of bird, snake, and snake skin was extremely malleable, and Quirrell's flesh, which had been hollowed out by Voldemort's remnant, was not pulled, but was stumbled by the rope.

"Whew~"

Seeing such a good opportunity, Nobeta, who was hovering in the sky, of course, would not let it go, and swooped down towards Quirrell, a line of fire had already hit the back of the opponent's head.

At the same time, Hagrid's arrows, and a large cloud of mud that Clark controlled with the Levitation Charm, flew towards Quirrell.

Seeing that Quirrell, who couldn't use his wand, was about to be hit by these three attacks, Clark couldn't help but smile.

It's no wonder that Harry Potter, a first-year wizard, can defeat this guy on his own, which is also weakened too hard by Voldemort's remnant soul.

You must know that Quirrell was also a top student at Hogwarts back then, and he was the most popular figure among the Ravenclaw students that year.

Being able to stay on as a professor at Hogwarts, even the most underappreciated Muggle studies class, proved his strength from the side.

But before he could rejoice a moment, Quirrell seemed to sense despair, and let out a roar on his back. Black smoke erupted from his body, turning into abstract smoke snakes, surrounding him and protecting him.

Nobeta's fireballs, Clark's mud, and Hagrid's arrows, all hit the black smoke like mud cows into the sea, silently swallowed up, and not a single bubble came out.

Clark could tell at a glance that this thing had the same aura as the skull that had just emerged from the unicorn's wound.

Only this time the breath is grander, darker, and purer, if the previous darkness was mixed with various pigments. So what Quirrell is wrapped around now is the empty nothingness of the black hole.

He released the magic rope wrapped around Quirrell's hand just in time, but only a little bit of the edge of the rope disappeared at one end.

Clark didn't care about the distress, kicked his feet the canopy, and the whole person flew backwards, and at the same time did not forget to beckon Nobeta to avoid it in the psychic link.

Fortunately, this little guy's animal instinct is very sharp, and with his wings spread, he pulled up a few meters and let go of the bite of the black smoke giant snake.

Countless black smoke serpents spread out from Quirrell's body like a tidal wave, devouring the dirt, devouring the trees, devouring the air, and even the moonlight in the sky, they opened their mouths and gulped in them.

The evil aura, the way countless snakeheads danced wildly, couldn't help but remind Clark of the demons and monsters in various myths and legends in ancient and modern times.

Such as the hydra Xudra, the Yaqi snake, and the willow. Of course, the power of this move is definitely less than one-ten-thousandth of the strength of these ancient demons, but it can be regarded as extremely amazing.

This is finally forcing Voldemort to make a move!

It's the first time Clark has seen him.

Like Dumbledore, the Dark Lord's soul anchor is also very exposed and obvious.

Clark just glanced at it and guessed that the core he used to stabilize the magic of chaos should be "greed".

It's the greed that devours everything, I want, I want, I want.

I just don't know if this trait is all of him, or if it's one of the seven soul fragments. After all, as long as you understand the occult, you have some understanding of the famous "Seven Deadly Sins".

But it's one thing to know the source of the other party's strength, and it's another thing to be able to really fight it.

In the face of the overwhelming tide of black smoke pythons, Clark could only retreat again and again, not retreating, even the big tree that was thrown by Hagrid did not hold out for a second in the black smoke.

Anyway, he didn't believe that with Quirrell's vague physique, he could support such a powerful black magic.

But perhaps it was because of Clark's hatred for the little imp who had repeatedly ruined his good deeds, and those black smoke pythons spread faster to his side under the command of Quirrell's subconscious.

With the help of Nobeta's mental perspective, looking down from the air, you can clearly see that those black smoke pythons have been outflanked from top to bottom, left and right, like a giant beast, opening their bloody mouths to him, which is determined to leave him behind.

Dangerous! Dangerous! Dangerous!

The hairs on the back of Clark's neck stood on end, and the activation rope in his hand shot behind him, hoping that Hagrid would pull him, but suddenly, a powerful suction force came from the black smoke maw, slowing his retreat, and disrupting the flying of the rope.

Hagrid watched as one end of the rope was just a little closer to his finger, and he pounced, trying to catch it, but he missed.

"No!"

Looking at Clarke, who was about to be engulfed in black smoke, Hagrid let out a hoarse cry, but the black smoke still closed together in his desperate gaze.

Clarke's figure disappeared behind the black smoke, like the midday sun engulfed by the night, and the blooming flowers fell into the mud, making people's hearts indescribably empty and sad, and they wanted to cry.

On the other side, Clark is surrounded by a thick black curtain that touches the eye and there is not a glimmer of light, only pure darkness, pure nothingness. It was as if he had been banished to another dimension, and time had lost its concept at this moment, and it seemed as if a moment had passed in a trance, and it seemed like a thousand years had passed.

Nothing is seen, nothing is heard, nothing is heard, nothing is perceived.

Empty, lonely, cold!

If this is the afterlife, Clark must admit that Voldemort's pursuit of so-called eternal life still makes sense.

For Lord Voldemort, whose soul is anchored by greed, death is no longer another journey, but purgatory with nothing, after all, "death" is the most greedy thing in this world, and it will eventually take away everything from you.

But for Clark, it may not be so inexplicable.