Rig looked at Voldemort, his pupils seemed to be the golden red of fire, and his golden hair fluttered in the air because of the abundant magic.

The extreme heat baked the entire classroom, and the unpredictable fireballs stretched out from time to time to burn closer, crackling.

"It turned out to be you." Voldemort said through gritted teeth.

The last time he was knocked away by flames in the Forbidden Forest, he had to use his power to heal Quirrell's broken body.

The original unwitting plan to clear the customs was also destroyed, so he could only start so rudely in advance and forcibly clear the customs to get the Philosopher's Stone.

Feeling the magic of the waves on the other side, Voldemort's small eyes widened, and his fingers bent.

There must be no time for this little wizard to use the flames.

Rig saw Voldemort's crooked fingers and flipped palms, which were generally a precursor to a wizard's desire to attack and use a spell.

But he wasn't worried at all.

for he still has companions.

Harry, who had been prepared, pounced on him, his fingers trying to spread out, trying to cover more of the area.

Voldemort's finger was soon covered in blood blisters, and his skin was shrinking until it turned to charcoal.

He jerked his hand at Quirrell's face again, sharp nails digging into Voldemort's already bloody skin.

"Something! Ah————h

Voldemort's pulling gesture was interrupted by Harry, who struggled and wrestled with Harry on the ground, blisters on his face and body that would not subside.

The biceps bulged, and Harry pressed Voldemort firmly to the ground.

The attack confirmed his suspicion: as soon as he touched Quirrell's exposed skin, Quirrell and Voldemort would be in excruciating pain.

Good nutrition and Wood's Quidditch training made Harry's body full of muscles, and it was difficult to suppress an already weakened Voldemort, not a Quaffle.

He grabbed Voldemort so hard that he couldn't chant incantations to himself and Rig.

Voldemort screamed, desperately trying to shake Harry off, and Quirrell was awakened from his coma, and fell into a coma again, repeatedly.

Now there's not even a lot of blood left in this body.

Harry's headache grew worse and worse as he clung to Voldemort, and his eyes were pitch black and full of small stars.

All Harry could hear Quirrell's horrible screams and Voldemort's vicious growl.

"Kill him!" "Help me!"

Other voices were shouting, "Harry! Harry! ”

It sounded like the voice of his family when he looked at the Mirror of Eris, but maybe it was a hallucination in his head.

As Rig prepared to attack, a legendary sense of bravery welled up in Harry's heart.

He shielded himself with Voldemort's body and shouted, "Rig! ”

Rig had been ready for a long time, but Voldemort's resistance was too great, and when he rolled on the ground with Harry, he was afraid of hurting Harry.

Now that Harry was ready, Harry lifted Quirrell like a child.

Rig raised his arm, palm facing Voldemort, and he nudged forward.

Countless flames that had turned white and even transparent, slowly flew towards Voldemort under the guidance of Rig's magical power.

Seeing the flying fireballs, Voldemort's eyes were full of horror, without the calmness and arrogance that had scared Harry before.

The layers of wounds, the inexplicable spell on Harry's body, the decaying body that was about to end his life and was only forcibly hanging......

Voldemort wanted to escape, but he couldn't.

Rig felt the flow of magic, and the fireball flew slowly like this, which proved that his control was even better.

"Thorn-"

The further it flew, the smaller the fireball became, and at last there was only a small condensed ball, which flew towards Voldemort's head at great speed.

Rig's raised arms were trembling slightly, and he was a little out of control after becoming this little ball.

Voldemort screamed, trying to swing his head.

But it's all in vain, in vain.

Rig wouldn't allow Voldemort to dodge the killer blow, and neither would Harry, who was ready to sacrifice himself.

After the fireball flew into Voldemort's face, it slowly pressed down, and the skin it touched was scorched, giving off a strange smell of charcoal.

"You should really try high-temperature hair removal." Rig smiled at Voldemort, who was screaming silently.

Voldemort couldn't even make a sound, and his little resentful eyes could no longer be opened.

Harry burst out laughing at Rig's sudden sense of humor, and almost couldn't suppress Voldemort, who was on the verge of death, erupted with a force that nearly toppled him.

After the fireball burned Voldemort's head in all directions, he didn't move.

Rig's face was pale, and he gasped as he paused his mana output, the emptiness emanating from the inside out of his body that made Rig shudder.

After a moment's wait, Harry carefully let go of his hand and stood up.

Quirrell lay on the ground, motionless.

"Is he dead?"

In the distance, Hermione and Ron, who were standing at the door of the room and ready to flee at any time, asked together.

Ron's face still had the horror of the previous one, and he was about to leave, but he still held the long sword and didn't let go.

When Hermione looked at Voldemort from Rig, she dragged Ron, who was standing still, to the door, ready to leave.

The Philosopher's Stone was on her, and she had to make sure that this treasure, which everyone had worked so, would not fall into Voldemort's hands and become a prop to help him recover.

As she stood in the doorway, Hermione was almost overwhelmed by the guilt.

Although it was part of their plan, when she actually stood on the threshold, she only felt that she was a coward, and she wanted to fight with Rig and Harry.

If it weren't for the lack of trust in Ron's work, Hermione wanted to entrust the Philosopher's Stone to Ron at that time, and she would go back to help Rig.

"He's dead."

Rigzai examined the body carefully.

It's really strange, he obviously killed someone, but he didn't ask himself after killing.

Neither did Harry.

Harry's face was filled with joy, his green eyes shining and watery with tears.

Voldemort was so arrogant and ruthless that slaughtering his parents was like killing a chicken.

"I killed your father first, but he would rather die than give in, and bravely fight me. Your mother doesn't have to die, but she's desperate to protect you. Voldemort said this with a cruel smile on his face.

Harry kicked his corpse uncontrollably, and then ran to the mirror of Eris, crying into it.

Rig looked at Harry silently, with Hermione crying in his arms, his hand stroking through Hermione's long hair.

"All backwards!"

Snape, who had finally arrived, seemed to have dragged down all the storms in England for a year, his eyes were hollow, and there was no expression on his face.

Finally, finally!! Shark Voldemort!!

Ball Recommendation Ticket and Commuter Pass——————

I can count on being able to eat

(End of chapter)