Voldemort was furious.

For ten years, he didn't breathe fresh air through his nose.

Finally, a young man who was easy to fool came in Albania, leaned over him, and felt the long-lost feeling of breathing through his nostrils.

Unexpectedly, it didn't take long for his nose to be smashed into pieces with a magic spell, who could bear this?

The ice crystals continued to split and grow behind Norlin, gradually spreading to the floor and ceiling, and the temperature in the room suddenly dropped, and the cold air overflowed.

"It's a good time, Professor Quirrell. It was the same in the Forbidden Forest, and it is now, picking on the time when Dumbledore was away. You're so afraid of him? ”

Norlin raised an eyebrow, feeling the temperature around him, looked at the terrible wound on Voldemort's face, and said sarcastically.

"Childish and shallow imp, you don't understand anything......"

Voldemort no longer bothered with his fleshy nose, and after so many years of wandering spirits, this level of pain was nothing compared to it.

After he said it coldly, he stopped talking nonsense. As soon as he raised his wand, the ice crystals on the ceiling condensed into icicles, crackling like rain and heading down to Norlin's head.

There was a faint black aura on the icicles, which was obviously some kind of advanced black magic.

"Vulcan opens the way!"

Norin's eyes narrowed slightly, and his right hand drew a very large arc in front of him, and the crimson line of fire came out in response, and the moment he swam forward, it suddenly swelled several times, and fiercely met the falling icicles.

"Whew-"

A large amount of water vapor made the room foggy, and the figures of the two of them were a little hazy for a while. The icicles melted, but the line of fire went unabated, roaring and sweeping forward.

Norlin waved his wand again, not fast or slow, but with a wonderful rhythm.

"Winter's Fury!"

The ice crystals in the room slowly loosened, and the icicles fused and reassembled, finally turning into an ice sword, stabbing Voldemort in the mist with precision and grace.

Voldemort's face was extremely ugly, he never expected that the little wizard who originally thought that he could be captured would have such outrageous strength, and now he used his magic to deal with him.

Could it be that people with the surname Yaxley are so tricky?

The Fire and Ice Dragon Drill made Voldemort slightly confused, and he thought angrily, his wand connecting the dots. Three black flames with strange lights appeared in the path of the line of fire and the ice sword.

The black flame silently attached to it, and the ice sword snorted, and was corroded so that the ice crystals slipped off piece by piece, disintegrating in mid-air.

The other black flame was like a small black hole, and all the lines of fire drilled into the black flame, as if swallowed by a bottomless pit.

Voldemort's face turned even paler, he stared at Norin deadly, and suddenly said:

"You're strong, only slightly inferior to me at this age. You can follow me, and I will give you eternal life. ”

A question mark appeared in Norin's head, and he almost couldn't hold back his laughter on the spot.

"Eternal life? Just with you, the lost dog? ”

"How dare you! Do you know who I am? Voldemort was furious, his pupils were frighteningly red, and he said angrily,

"Back then, the wizarding world was only prostrate and fearful under my majesty......"

Norlin smiled, and was about to answer, but a horrific warning arose in his heart. He froze, and half-knelt on the ground, his wand striking the ground in a burst of blood-red light.

A black flame crept up at the bottom of his feet, colliding with the red light. The ground cracked and exploded, and the temperature inside climbed to unbearable levels.

After the blow, Norlin immediately jumped back, with a vigilant look on his face, and secretly reflected in his heart.

carelessly, such a crude tactic of attacking the east and the west almost hit the trick. How could a battle-hardened dark wizard like Voldemort say inconsequential nonsense in battle.

Voldemort's face sank again, and he felt the urge to curse. Even if the strength is ridiculously strong, and the consciousness is too sharp, could it be that Hogwarts education has developed to this extent in the past ten years?

Nolin kept his eyes on Voldemort, took out a bottle of mana recovery potion in his left hand, bit the cork and drank it down. After feeling the magic in his body gradually fill, he grinned at Voldemort, but there was a hint of fierceness in his eyes.

"Divine Guard!"

Norlin shouted softly, clouds of silver smoke spilled out, and in the blink of an eye, a guardian angel with wings on his back and a perfect face with a long sword appeared behind him.

The Patronus Charm is not only the best choice against Dementors, but it also has a noticeable counterweight to Voldemort, who is now essentially a geyman.

"Come on, Kyle!"

Norlin gave the Patronus a makeshift name and shouted wildly, raising his wand in his hand, "Thunderbolt explosion!" ”

The guardian angel's eyes were slightly raised, and his eyes were indifferent and not like mortals. It glanced indifferently at Voldemort with a different face in front of him, raised his sword, and appeared in front of Voldemort in the next moment.

The sword glowed with silver light, as if it was about to cut the soul of the person in front of him into two pieces.

At the same time, Nolin's blasting spell also came out of his hand, and the magic contained in it was so violent that Voldemort had no doubt that once it was hit, Quirrell's body would explode in an instant.

Between lightning and flint, Voldemort had to make an aggrieved and helpless choice: escape.

After returning from the Forbidden Forest, Quirrell's body was greatly damaged, and the strength he could exert after leaning over was less than one-tenth of Voldemort's body.

He thought it would be more than enough to take down this little wizard, but reality gave him a hard slap in the face, knocking him to the point of bleeding.

Voldemort took a deep look at Norin, and the moment the sword was about to hit him, his body suddenly turned into a cloud of black smoke.

Norin's blasting spell was piercing through the black smoke and hitting the wall behind the smoke, the rubble exploding, and the sunlight shining through the crack.

The black smoke did not stop, and quickly detached towards the breach.

"Want to go?"

Norlin saw his intentions at a glance, sneered, and shouted:

"Soul Blast!"

There seemed to be countless invisible tiny needles in the air, densely stuck in the black smoke, and in the next second, all the small needles exploded, seemingly shaking the air into a circle of ripples.

There was a terrible scream from the black smoke, and the smoke was so faint that it was almost transparent, and it struggled to fly into the sky, and disappeared.

Norlin let out a breath of turbidity, holding his head, enduring the sharp pain in his brain.

The spell just now was an improved version of the soul magic he had figured out, and it was still too reluctant for him to cast such a large range of soul magic at one time.

It's worthy of Voldemort, so he didn't keep him.

Norin sat on the ground, unwillingly looking at the sky outside the tower.

In the room, the ornate mirror was unscathed, and the frame shimmered golden in the sunlight.