0109 The Final Battle

Before this battle began, Sherlock had already unified his thinking with Harry.

They couldn't rely on magic for this fight.

Three first-year students, no matter how gifted, couldn't possibly match a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Not to mention Quirrell had Voldemort behind him.

So, this battle would draw from historical experience and replicate the Forbidden Forest battle.

Taking advantage of the opportunity Harry and Hermione had created, Sherlock drew his sword without hesitation and thrust it toward Quirrell.

However, this time a snake formed of black smoke appeared out of nowhere between them, directly wrapping around Sherlock's sword arm.

"Fool—the same trick won't work on me twice!"

Quirrell laughed triumphantly.

Ever since being stabbed by Sherlock in the Forbidden Forest, he had specifically investigated.

Knowing Sherlock was an unconventional wizard, how could he not be prepared?

Today he would have his revenge for that sword thrust in the forest!

"Avada Kedavra!"

Having been thoroughly insulted by Sherlock earlier, Quirrell didn't hesitate and directly used the Killing Curse on Sherlock.

The originally cramped room was instantly illuminated by green light, and Quirrell's already pale face now looked even more ghastly green.

His face was full of malice.

At such close range, Sherlock couldn't possibly dodge.

This detestable little wizard was doomed!

Harry and Hermione were horrified, and both cast spells again.

But it was useless.

Quirrell was already prepared, and with his Shield Charm plus the Iron Armor Charm, he directly deflected their spells back at them.

Harry's wand flew out of his hand.

Hermione's legs snapped together with a "pop," and having been charging forward, she lost her balance and fell to the ground, her wand flying far away.

At this moment, both weaponless students despaired.

Hermione even closed her eyes.

She even wondered if the Felix Felicis Snape had given Harry might be fake.

But the next moment, Quirrell's incredulous voice rang out:

"This is impossible!"

Hermione quickly looked up to see Sherlock holding his sword in his right hand and a shield in his left, in a standard defensive stance.

Quirrell still held his wand pointed at Sherlock, but the shock on his face couldn't be hidden.

She had no idea what had happened.

But Harry had seen the whole process clearly.

When Sherlock rushed at Quirrell, his other hand had already put away his wand and taken out a shield instead.

Harry naturally recognized this shield—its core material was one of Hagrid's custom rock cakes.

In the Forbidden Forest battle, it had already proven its defensive capabilities by blocking the Cruciatus Curse.

Now facing the Killing Curse, it didn't disappoint.

When the curse hit the shield, an explosion occurred at the point of contact, with green flames shooting towards sky.

Under the powerful shockwave, both Sherlock and Quirrell staggered back several steps.

The black snake that had been wrapped around Sherlock's arm also disappeared.

Quirrell was now stunned.

This was the Killing Curse, first among the three Unforgivable Curses!

The Death Curse!

Throughout history, only one person had ever survived this curse—Harry Potter.

There couldn't be a second!

"Fool, there's something wrong with his shield!"

Just then, Voldemort's hoarse voice rang out again.

Scolded by Voldemort, Quirrell suddenly understood.

When the Killing Curse successfully hits a living being, the victim dies instantly, usually leaving no trace.

However, it can still be blocked by solid obstacles, such as walls or shields, with success depending mainly on the obstacle's durability.

If Sherlock's shield could block the Killing Curse, it meant it was sufficiently sturdy.

"Correct."

In that brief moment, Sherlock advanced again, swinging his sword at Quirrell.

"I told you; the same trick won't work on me twice!"

This time, Quirrell summoned vines.

Unlike the black snake, after wrapping around Sherlock's arm, the vines continued spreading across his body.

They seemed intent on binding Sherlock completely.

At the same time, he raised his wand again, pointing it at Sherlock.

This time, the Killing Curse would definitely hit Sherlock directly.

At such close range, he didn't even have space to raise his shield!

"Is that so? What about this then?"

Quirrell never expected that Sherlock, while maintaining his shield-raising posture with his other hand, would slam it hard toward Quirrell.

Just as he had thought, at such close range, there was no way to dodge.

Not only could Sherlock not avoid his spell, but he equally couldn't avoid Sherlock's shield bash.

Most wizards don't have strong bodies.

Quirrell was especially so.

After being parasitized by Voldemort, his life force was also used to nourish the latter, making his already weak body even more frail.

Sherlock's shield struck Quirrell directly in the face.

His body tilted backward and he fell straight down.

From Quirrell using the Killing Curse only to be blocked by the shield, to his second attempt being interrupted by Sherlock's shield bash—the entire process sounded complex but took only moments.

Harry had no time to retrieve his wand.

Remembering Sherlock's special training and having witnessed Sherlock's shield strike, he resolutely charged forward.

Taking advantage of Quirrell being stunned by Sherlock's attack and completely open, he also threw a punch.

A serious punch.

Quirrell never expected that not only Sherlock could fight with fists.

Harry's punch hit Quirrell right in the face, and his agonized screams echoed throughout the room.

Somehow, this sound made Harry feel particularly excited.

He had punched Voldemort in the face!

This Dark Lord who made the entire wizarding world afraid to even speak his name—he had punched him!

He could even feel that when this punch hit Voldemort, the pain from his forehead scar had lessened considerably.

"Continue!"

"Got it!"

Sherlock and Harry struck simultaneously, just like in their usual practice, both fists hitting Quirrell's back of the head—or rather, Voldemort's face—at the same time.

This time, Sherlock keenly noticed something unusual.

In terms of fighting, Harry clearly had talent but still fell short compared to himself.

From those two punches, it was mainly because Quirrell was too weak, plus the Felix Felicis taking effect, that Harry could land consecutive hits.

Even so, his own fists should have been heavier than Harry's.

But when Harry's first punch hit Quirrell, his screams were far more miserable than when Sherlock had hit him.

This time, with their pincer attack, his own punch was still heavier than Harry's.

However, where Quirrell had contacted Harry's fist, blisters immediately appeared, as if he'd been burned.

Even before Quirrell screamed, Sherlock heard a sharp crackling sound from Quirrell's skin.

In less than a second, Sherlock understood.

'This was what Dumbledore wanted! And the effect was actually this good?'

"Harry, grab him!"

"Understood!"

Though Harry didn't understand why, he had formed the habit of following orders over the past year.

So, without hesitation, he firmly grasped Quirrell's arms with both hands.

"Ahh—!"

Quirrell immediately let out screams, "Master, my hands—my hands!"

He desperately tried to shake Harry off, but Harry, having received Sherlock's clear instruction, refused to let go.

Only now his forehead scar began to hurt intensely again.

This puzzled him somewhat.

It hadn't hurt when he'd punched Voldemort in the face earlier.

Not only that, but images even appeared in his mind:

A tall, thin man with glasses and messy black hair shouting loudly, trying to stop an enemy.

A beautiful woman with deep red hair pleading desperately before falling powerlessly.

And that sickly green light and maniacal laughter.

The intense pain made him unable to control his body anymore.

Though he tried his best, in his dazed state he still felt Quirrell's arm slip from his grasp.

But immediately after, he felt someone take his hand.

Then he lost consciousness.

Sherlock naturally noticed Harry's condition.

To prevent Quirrell from breaking free, he lunged forward and pressed Quirrell to the ground with his knee.

Normally his weight wouldn't be enough to pin down an adult.

But he had Harry.

While pinning Quirrell down, Sherlock simply took Harry's hand and pressed it against Quirrell's back of the head—Voldemort's face.

"Ahh—!"

Screams once again echoed throughout the room.

The sound was so miserable that even Hermione, who had just managed to stand up, couldn't help feeling a pang of sympathy.

But Sherlock noticed that this time the screams and wails were a duet.

Not just Quirrell, but Voldemort too.

The power Dumbledore had placed such hope in was causing massive damage to Voldemort himself.

Finally, a black smoke suddenly emerged from Quirrell's head.

It floated in the air, condensing into the shape of Voldemort's hairless, noseless ugly face.

"You, you how dare you!"

The black smoke that emerged from Quirrell's head floated up into the air, forming Voldemort's hideous appearance, looking at Sherlock with eyes full of venomous hatred.

At this moment, his hatred for Sherlock finally exceeded that for Harry.

In his view, if it were not for Sherlock, he would probably already have the Philosopher's Stone.

"Do you think that without me; you'd already have the Philosopher's Stone?"

Just then, Sherlock suddenly spoke, startling Voldemort.

'What was going on? Could first-year Hogwarts students already use Legilimency?'

Sherlock glanced at Quirrell on the ground, who was now barely human. Even if he was saved, he'd probably be a vegetable.

"I thought you were so ruthless," Sherlock looked back at Voldemort, his contempt identical to when he'd looked at Quirrell.

"That's it?"

You can read more chapters on:

patreon.com/MikeyMuse