"Clark said that the struggle is to invite guests to dinner, and you can't have illusions!"

Hermione leaned against the wall, her wrists aching, but her eyes radiated a fearless, indomitable light.

"So, please, go die!"

Thin black smoke came out of the back of Quirrell's head like boiling water, converging into a dark cloud above his head.

With the death of his host, Voldemort was no longer able to possess Quirrell.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried to possess a dead corpse before, but the only thing that could nourish him was the fresh life force, and the dead flesh was like a rotting stinky fish, which couldn't satisfy the Dark Lord's appetite at all.

And with the disintegration of Quirrell's magic, the whirlwind that bound Clarke's body also collapsed, and the pressure in his chest disappeared, Clark took a deep breath, he had never felt that the air of freedom was so sweet as he did now.

"Yes, Lord Voldemort, times have changed." Clark staggered in front of Hermione, took the pistol from her sour little hand, and gave her a big smile at the same time, "Well done, Hermione." ”

With that, he pointed his pistol at the black smoke steadily.

"7 bullets? Wouldn't it be nice to add a traceless stretch charm to the magazine? So, you can now bet on whether I still have any bullets in my gun. ”

The muzzle of the black hole exuded a different kind of deterrent power at this moment, and the black smoke slowly highlighted an ugly face after a violent churning and wriggling.

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

Voldemort's words were very hard, but Clarke could hear that his tone had softened a lot.

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

"Bang!"

The gunfire exploded like thunder, directly shaking Voldemort's soul to the point of dizziness and heartbreaking.

But the Dark Lord is the Dark Lord after all, and the tiger in distress is also bigger than the hound, and he still mobilized his last little bit of "Jörmungandr's power" when his soul was suppressed, and spit out a mini black smoke snake from his mouth, and met the bullet.

The white-gold bullet collided with the black smoke serpent, like the tip of a needle against the wheat mang, taken from the devouring power of the mythical ancient snake, greedily wanting to swallow this Muggle creation, but the intricate pattern carved on the bullet was stimulated by black magic, blooming with pure white light.

Countless holy bolts of lightning leaped on the bullet, and this time, even the power of the dark magic slipped away from the bullet, and in Voldemort's shocked gaze, it pierced through the black smoke serpent.

"This ......"

Before he could say another word, the white-gold bullet sliced through the sky with a flash of lightning.

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

"This bullet is polished from the sharp horns of the unicorn you hurt, so you can 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 pierced through it, tearing Voldemort's face apart.

That holy power was to Voldemort's remnants no less than a thunderbolt and a burning fire.

With a wail he can't remember how many times, he completely abandoned the last bit of dark power he had, leaving the black mist as bait, and swooped down towards Clark with another resentful spirit.

The cold power rushed to his face, and Quirrell's unwilling resentful spirit was blocked by Voldemort, and his resentful eyes could be seen on the translucent face, but the target of this look was not Clark, but Hermione, who was blocked by him.

There is a wrong, there is a debtor, and it was Hermione who shot Quirrell just now.

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

Human beings are born with a fear of death, and the same fear of things related to death, such as darkness, such as ghosts.

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

He looked at the oncoming ghost, and there was a terrifying scream in his ears that hit his heart, it was the unwilling wail of the dead, a curse on the living.

But in such a terrifying situation, the muzzle of his gun did not tremble in the slightest, and he pointed steadily forward, his eyes unblinking.

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

In front of the masculine blood of the boy's body, all demons and monsters are paper tigers!

Not to mention that he still has a gun.

"Bang!"

Gunshots rang out.

The soul duel of one person and one ghost, the competition of willpower, after all, it was Clark, the newborn milk tiger, who won the victory.

The more experienced the Dark Lord became, the clearer he knew that the kind of bullet Clark had just now would never kill him, but it would definitely leave him wounded.

But Clark doesn't know what serious consequences can be of being haunted and cursed by a ghost.

Under the poor information, the ignorant are fearless, but Voldemort is timid at the last moment.

He still has a bright future, a big boss who has been in a state of immortality and life for so many years, how could he choose to exchange one with a small soldier?

Therefore, the moment the gunshot rang out, Voldemort grabbed Quirrell's soul, jumped up silkily, and then slammed him into the air in front of him.

The dead spirit seemed to turn into a sharp sword in Voldemort's hand, and in an instant, a pitch-black crack broke in the void in front of him, and then the Dark Lord pierced into it without looking back.

It is advisable to chase the poor bravely, and not to sell the name of the overlord.

Seeing that the enemy fled in a hurry, Clark only had time to chase after his tail and fired several more shots, but unfortunately the rest of the magazine was ordinary bullets.

Clark also cheated on Voldemort, the unicorn named Goldmane was so stingy that even if he knew that Clark was going to deal with the bad guys who hurt him, he was only willing to contribute a small part of his horn.

Therefore, Clarke's gun actually only has a pure Demon Breaking Holy Light Bullet, and the rest is just coated with a layer of excess powder from polishing, as well as some ordinary bullets.

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

"I'll remember your ......"

The mournful scream of the defeated man was far away, leaving only a narrow pitch-black gap in the void, overflowing with a faint cold and dead air, like the white mist after opening the refrigerator, but it was suppressed by the golden light in the room.

Clarke didn't expect the battle with Voldemort to end in such a way, tonight's battle was so difficult that he even thought that Voldemort, who had nowhere to escape, would choose to fight to the death with him, and then parasitize on himself.

In that case, with the fragment of Godhead in his mind, he might be able to harvest a remnant soul.

However, this Dark Lord, with a fresh soul and a little occult knowledge, tore a hole in the defensive barrier of Hogwarts Castle to the underworld.