A cloud of black smoke poured from the neck of the headless corpse. It circled through the air like a snake before vanishing into the depths of the sea of fire, its destination unknown.
The corpse, meanwhile, was like a poorly preserved mummy. In an instant, it weathered and shriveled, bursting apart like a human-shaped pile of ash and being swept away by the currents stirred up by the flames.
Quirrell had not even left a corpse behind.
Only then did the three girls finally relax completely and begin chattering about what the man on the back of Quirrell's head had said.
"Was that him? But didn't they say he died long ago?"
Hannah took a few steps away from the black ash, feeling utterly awful.
Susan helped her sit down on a clean patch of floor, and the two hugged each other.
"It had to be him. None of us had ever seen him before, but who would dare call themselves by that name?"
"Voldemort. He really wasn't dead."
Hermione hugged her shotgun and sat down beside them. Killing monsters yesterday and killing people today had happened far too quickly, no matter how she looked at it. She needed a moment to recover, to talk about something else, anything but killing people.
"I remember Professor Wilson telling me that Voldemort mastered a very dark kind of magic. He split apart his soul and stored the pieces in certain objects."
Hannah rubbed her face. She did not want to hold the others back, but her legs were a little weak.
"Why would Professor Wilson tell you that? We're still just children."
"Practicing with wands was actually pretty boring. Whenever I was shooting at targets, he would stand nearby and talk about all sorts of things. Most of it was nonsense,