Quirrell, who seemed afraid to move, was only seemingly so.
The six little ones didn't think he wasn't up to something.
"Children, I don't have any wands right now." He tried to maintain a smile. "It must be tiring for you to hold them up, why don't you put them down for now?"
Six pairs of Big White shot over.
If the soft approach doesn't work, then we'll have to use the hard approach.
Quirrell's smile gradually faded, his face hardening. The moment he raised his free left hand, a long spear was also raised.
He used to teach Muggle Studies, so how could he not know the principle that a gun is faster from seven paces away and still faster within seven paces?
Vincent, squinting at the scope, lightly placed his index finger on the trigger.
"Professor, I must remind you of the basic principles of landmines."
Trigger-activated landmines will explode when released, or they will explode upon strong external impact.
If force doesn't work, then we can only play the emotional card.
"Children, do you know what you are doing?"
Quirrell clutched his chest with a pained expression. "Adding magic to these things will get me locked up in Azkaban by those idiots at the Ministry of Magic!"
"Wow, how scary!" Vincent pulled the trigger.
The bullet grazed my left shoulder.
"I fired." He lowered the muzzle of the gun. "Will you forgive me, Professor?"
Forgive my ass!
Quirrell just wanted to pull out his Yew Wand from his robes and send this wretched kid to join Merlin in Avada Kedavra.
"Of course I will forgive you, Wayne."
His ingratiating smile made the two "kind and honest" badger Little Badger frown.
"Diggory, Scamander— "
Quirrell astutely picked up on this point. "You certainly don't want Wayne to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, do you?"
Cedric and Rolf both gripped their wands tightly.
"Sigh—to be honest, I did control those magical creatures."
He slid his left hand down little by little. "This is my second lesson. You must remain vigilant at all times and not let your guard down just because a banquet is in progress—"
"Bang—"
A bullet pierced his left shoulder.
"Click—" Vincent cocked the cartridge.
Quirrell, who was in so much pain that he was about to faint, had an extremely cruel and menacing look in his eyes.
Cedric and Rolf no longer hesitated, and loosened their fingers slightly to make the spell easier to hit.
With the help of the Sense Enhancing Potion, the six little ones were not blind to these subtle movements.
"So that's how it is." Hermione looked at Vincent with gratitude, seeing that Quirrell hadn't lowered his left hand even after being shot in the shoulder.
"You have a third wand, don't you, Professor?"
Her words reminded the somewhat lazy twins.
One wand was cut in half by Lucy, and the other was just shot through.
Quirrell's earnest advice was feigned; his true intention was to find a chance to escape.
"Professor, you really are insidious." Fred and George were no longer as playful as usual.
This was an outcome Vincent was happy to see, but one that Voldemort absolutely did not want to imagine.
"Enough, Quirinus— "
You piece of trash!
The moment that voice rang in Quirrell's mind, he felt as if his soul had been bound.
Dark Magic related to the soul is always evil and cruel.
From the moment he was possessed, Quirrell's fate was sealed, and he could not escape his bondage.
"Master, you—"
"Give me your all, Quirinus!"
In the real world, Quirrell closed his eyes.
A very dangerous aura, with extremely destructive power, suddenly appeared in the six children's senses.
"Wayne!"
"I know!"
As Cedric and Rolf recited the incantation for the Shield Charm, Vincent pulled the trigger aimed at the landmine.
With a loud "boom," the explosion also affected the nearby landmines.
The corridor leading to the Headmaster's Office had a hole more than five meters long blown into the ground.
Yet, amidst the billowing smoke, there was a pair of cold, serpentine eyes.
"Quirrell," which did not fall to the seventh floor, slowly drifted out from the black smoke.
Half of his body was burned, his long scarf was tattered, and almost his entire body was covered with wounds from landmine fragments and rocks.
"Two damn Mudblood."
After saying that, everything on his body and the things that had been blown away turned into spikes and shot out.
"Shield Charm— "
The six layers of Shield Charm provided a formidable defense, managing to block all attacks with great difficulty.
"Quirrell" snorted coldly, his blood-soaked feet stomping on the floor in front of them.
"You are not Quirinus Quirrell." Vincent quietly took the shrunken "blowpipe" into his hand.
Who are you?!
Quirrell smiled and shook his head. "Wayne — Wayne— "
Vincent Wayne, the first born Occlumency Master in Hogwarts history.
He tore off his headscarf with his bloodied left hand, saying, "Such a lowly surname is unworthy of such a great talent."
Rolf's expression changed drastically.
That tone... it sounds so much like someone else's.
The twins and Cedric both had a vague idea of what was going on.
Even Hermione, who couldn't even imagine it, understood that Quirrell, who wasn't afraid of pain, was definitely not someone simple.
"Is there something wrong with my surname?" Vincent began to focus all his attention. "As a professor at Hogwarts, you don't actually believe in Pure-blood Supremacy, do you?"
"Hehehe—"
With a cold laugh, Quirrell tossed away his wand, now reduced to just a handle. "If only you weren't born into Muggle family, or even Half-blood one."
He gracefully and calmly lifted his tattered robe and took the Yew Wand in his hand.
"Too bad, I don't need Mudblood."
The sight of blood still oozing from his body was indescribably eerie.
Even though he acted very politely, the omnipresent aura of danger did not dissipate; in fact, it seemed to be growing exponentially.
"So who exactly are you?" Vincent remained calm under pressure. "At least give me a name so I can complain to old man Merlin, right?"
Quirrell looked him over with interest, and after a moment he lightly waved his Yew Wand.
The tattered robe was replaced with a loose-fitting black robe.
The exposed wounds, large and small, all looked as pale as if they had been washed.
"I can grant your request, Vincent Wayne."
Quirrell's neck suddenly twisted 180 degrees.
The face, though no longer covered in pustules, still showed signs of collapse; its ugliness defied description.
The six little ones had a physical reaction on the spot when they smelled a mixture of garlic and alcohol.
Their symptoms, such as nausea and vomiting, manifest immediately in various forms.
The ugly, big-faced man didn't mind that.
He simply bowed politely and placed the Yew Wand against his left shoulder.
"I am Voldemort."
Three simple words were enough to make the six people opposite him instantly frown.
"Voldemort? The Dark Lord who was driven away by Little Harry and whose name can't even be mentioned?"
"Wow, this is so ugly!"
Although it was a bit inappropriate to make a joke, Fred and George said it anyway.
"It's definitely ugly." Vincent lowered Enfield and quietly hid his left hand behind his back.
"Having not seen the sun for eleven years, one would be so calcium deficient that he'd look like this."
Voldemort grinned, "I'm glad that there are wizards who dare to call me by my name again."
Unfortunately, you are all just a group of novice wizards who haven't graduated yet.
He raised his Yew Wand. "But I can give you a chance, if only—"
Vincent quickly used the Transfiguration to untangle the "blowpipe".
Before he could fully revert to his original size, he had already pulled the trigger.