Good Evening, Mr. No-Nose

After making her final decision, Harley ignited with Black Flame and swiftly passed through the black flames burning on the door ahead.

The room before her seemed to be the final one. The furnishings were incredibly simple, and the empty room was devoid of any decorations.

Only in the very center of the room stood a magnificent full-length mirror, the Mirror of Erised that Harley had seen once before.

And that figure draped in a black cloak was standing in front of the mirror, pointing a wand at it while muttering something.

This scene would have looked perfectly normal, provided one ignored the face growing on the back of the figure's head—the face of Professor Quirrell.

Harley instinctively leaned against the wall, wanting to melt into the shadows, but it was a little too late.

The figure turned around to face the intruder at the door. His front side then entered Harley's field of vision.

Harley looked at that face and immediately felt a wave of nausea.

Having grown accustomed to the handsome men and beautiful women among the nobility of various kingdoms, and being a charming witch herself, Harley had always been a stickler for aesthetics.

But that face was hideous and terrifying, deathly pale, with bright silver unicorn blood smeared on the corners of his mouth.

His blood-red pupils were narrow and elongated, resembling those of a snake. Below his eyes were thin, slit-like nostrils; he had no nose.

This face was a mistake from the moment it grew, and a cruelty to look at closely.

However, Harley felt this face was somewhat familiar, as if she had seen it somewhere before. Of course, a battle could break out at any moment, so Harley did not dwell on it.

"Hehehe, a little mouse has arrived!" that face said mockingly in a hoarse, cold voice that sounded like a snake.

"Good evening, Mr. No-Nose." Harley did not show weakness, deliberately responding in a respectful tone.

She lifted her hands as if holding up a non-existent skirt, then clasped them behind her back.

"Hah, sharp-tongued brat! How dare you speak to the great Dark Lord like that!"

Harley immediately deduced that if this person wasn't lying, he must be the Dark Lord Voldemort, the one who had kept the British magical world shrouded in shadows for so long and had killed her parents.

But wasn't Voldemort dead? No, the books didn't seem to use the word "death" explicitly, but rather "lost his power."

Harley's brain raced, her vigilance rising a few notches. If the person before her really was the Dark Lord, she had to be even more careful.

Voldemort didn't care what Harley was thinking; he was too arrogant to bother understanding the thoughts of a lower-year student.

"...You should be grateful for the Dark Lord's mercy; he did not kill you immediately!" Voldemort threatened in a ghostly voice.

"However, to stay alive, I think you, little mouse, should do something for the great Dark Lord.

For instance, retrieve certain things from this mirror. Now that I think about it, that old thief Dumbledore is indeed cunning..."

Voldemort spoke to himself, and Harley was happy to let him give her time to prepare.

Earlier, when heading to the fourth floor, Harley had left many unused materials in an abandoned washroom on the third floor.

Harley had only brought a small waist pouch, which contained a few bottles of commonly used floral water, two small pieces of Beyonder characteristics, as well as all of her magic mirrors and her wand.

Now, Harley's hands were constantly rubbing against each other behind her back, carefully applying the floral water.

This was a method of rapid ritualization she had summarized, allowing her to achieve certain ritual effects even during combat.

Although the effect wasn't particularly great, it was better than nothing.

Voldemort finally finished his long-winded speech, then stared fixedly at Harley: "Come, it is your honor to sacrifice yourself for the Dark Lord!"

"But, Mr. Dark Lord with no nose." Harley's small face flushed slightly, her cherry-colored lips parting, giving her the appearance of being slightly tipsy.

She said in a pitiful tone: "I'm so scared! Can't you not make me do such a dangerous thing?"

As she spoke, Harley's eyes actually grew moist, filling with tears, as if she were about to cry from fear. An inexplicable atmosphere began to brew in the air.

Voldemort's emotions were instantly stirred, and for a moment, he felt he was truly damned for wanting to harm such a pitiful girl.

However, Voldemort was a veteran of many battles after all; he immediately realized this was some kind of magic ability that interfered with emotions and used Occlumency to forcibly resist Harley's influence.

But the one second he spent stunned was enough for Harley to launch her attack.

Voldemort felt his limbs tighten simultaneously, as if bound by countless invisible threads.

At the same time, Harley made a throwing motion, and four ice spears condensed out of thin air behind her, stabbing fiercely toward Voldemort.

Harley also threw a berry at Voldemort while wearing a pained expression on her face.

"Bribery—Weakening!" "Distortion—Amplification!"

Enduring the pain in her mind, Harley forcibly used the contaminated Beyonder characteristic of the Corrupt Baron, utilizing the Briber's bribery ability and the Corrupt Baron's distortion ability.

Thanks to the physical fitness and keen eyesight brought to Harley by the Assassin, she accurately smashed the berry into Voldemort's mouth, making the "bribery" take effect.

Voldemort instantly felt as if some magic had been attached to him; although his strength hadn't been weakened, he felt something was wrong.

At the same time, the four ice spears were enhanced in every aspect by the "distortion," the cold air they emitted causing the moisture in the air to show signs of freezing.

Voldemort looked as if he would be pierced through by the spears in one strike!

But Voldemort also managed to defend himself in that instant.

A silver shield appeared out of thin air, blocking the four ice spears.

A low sound, like fingernails scraping a chalkboard, rang out as the spears were blocked by the shield. However, deep marks were left on the shield.

Voldemort's expression sank: "Damn Quirrell, what a waste! I've already burned my life force, yet it's still this difficult to fight!"

Clearly, he attributed his disadvantage to the uselessness of Quirrell's body.

Having failed to land a hit, Harley was not disappointed. She had never expected to take out Voldemort in one round, but at the very least, the bribery ability had already taken effect.

For the next period of time, whether Voldemort attacked her or defended against her attacks, he would suffer a certain degree of weakening.

However, this was not enough; to kill a heavily wounded demigod, this was far from sufficient.

Harley had already activated invisibility, hiding her figure as much as possible in this dimly lit room.

A short ice spear was thrown by Harley toward the magical flames on the ceiling, attempting to plunge the room into darkness and maximize the advantage of her darkvision.

A smoke spell was also cast by Harley once again, though this time it was not to escape, but to obstruct the line of sight for both parties as much as possible.

After all, Harley had already regained the ability to release spider silk.

At some point, the room had become dense with tangible and intangible threads; some were as sharp as steel wire, while others would snap at the slightest touch.

In such a situation, it was difficult for Voldemort to detect Harley's position and he might even be injured inadvertently, yet Harley could easily determine Voldemort's location.

At the same time, Harley stepped on the thin threads, approaching Voldemort silently, attempting to land a blade across his throat.

The situation seemed to be shifting in Harley's favor; it appeared as though Voldemort was completely powerless to fight back.

If only it were truly that simple.

(Thanks to Nine-Tailed Flame Fox for the donation!)

(Thanks to Nanachi the Fluffy for the donation!)