Melee wizards at Hogwarts

"avada kedavra avada kedavra"

"Qi Luo"'s cold voice sounded, and a green light shot out from the top of the wand. Along with some chaotic voices in the air that sounded like resentful spirits or whispers, it directed towards the leaping figure wielding the silver sword like lightning. Parsifal.

This is the cruelest unforgivable curse, and there is no chance of anyone being spared.

Except for that lucky boy.

Even the lucky boy.

Without a moment's delay, Parsifal subconsciously hooked his legs on the tree branch that was used to jump up, narrowly escaping the curse and falling back to the ground. Facing the strongest dark wizard, even in an incomplete state, is definitely not an easy task.

In just a few minutes, he had already tried to launch several attacks, but without exception, he was forced back by the green light. "Qi Luo" had taken off his turban and turned the back of his head towards him. His body showed a very strange twist, and his arms seemed to have been twisted 180 degrees.

"You have to find a chance to run away. This thing is not a rookie copy at all."

Under the shade of the trees, Parsifal breathed slowly. He did not rely on his own strength to confront the Socket Man, but relied on the brooch and who-knows-what other things. Although he did not feel tired physically, the mental load was rising.

It's one thing to rush forward like a hero, but it's a completely different thing to rush forward and die like a hero. The former can barely shout "ste", but the latter can only be made into a Noble Phantasm by a black-skinned man in the extra chapter.

"If I remember correctly, your name is Williams. As a young and talented little wizard like you, why should you follow that guy Dumbledore? Join me and I promise you will gain power you have never imagined. ."

The green light stopped, and Voldemort said with a somewhat appreciative expression.

"Profound magic, captivating power, and an epic of conquest that the entire magical world, no, the entire world, will remember in their souls. Aren't Gryffindors as ambitious and talented as you looking forward to this? "

His words did not stop, but Parsifal's left hand touched the small porcelain cup on his chest, but he did not dare to take it out.

His sensitive perception told him that although Voldemort was bewitching him like a false villain, he was actually a real villain. Once he sensed any movement on his part, Avada Kedavra would shoot out.

"With him stuck on the back of his head, I think you probably haven't asked his opinion."

Breathing calmly, Parsifal answered him.

"Huh, you can't even imagine what kind of reward my loyal servant will get when I return. Quirrell, answer him, did I force you? Isn't it that you voluntarily gave it?"

Voldemort snorted, an angry expression on his pale face.

"Yes, I am willing to give everything I have to you, Master. Please forgive me for my mistakes."

Quirrell's voice was trembling. It was a cry rather than a moan, as if he was a purple-haired man who had to die, and died miserably. Just imagining that look made Parsifal sick.

"Professor Quirrell, I have to say that people like you will definitely not be able to buy a house in the future. And this sir, my teacher once taught me that any job offer without a contract is a scam."

Parsifal clenched the sword in his hand, his forehead wrinkled.

Something is definitely going on at Hogwarts. Something is wrong.

"You want to buy time, Williams, I can see that. But why do you think I would be willing to chat with you for so long?" Voldemort's words made Parsifal feel cold. "That old guy Dumbledore can't come. Don’t have any illusions about being fearless.”

"Besides, how could someone as smart as you not guess that I'm stalling for time too?"

Voldemort was laughing wildly, his hands dancing like a conductor.

"It's really a pleasure chatting with you, little wizard Williams. I believe that after experiencing real pain, you will make the right choice again. Crux"

A bolt of red lightning shot out from the tip of the wand, aiming directly at the tree trunk where Parsifal was hiding.

Not only that, three huge figures appeared here through the dense bushes. They made a "chuck, chuck" breathing sound, and their skin was livid, looking like marble in the moonlight.

Trolls are pure creations of chaos. Under the light, they have an almost crazy ability to recover; but under the moonlight or in a lightless environment, their skin will harden, and even the sharpest sword cannot easily cut it.

"Quilinas's talent in dealing with trolls, or in other words, dealing with these dirty creatures, even surprised me. Those random things of vampires and witches were actually used by him."

Even though he was expressing appreciation, Voldemort's words sounded like sarcasm.

"Master, then, thank you. Thank you."

But even so, Quirrell still made a grateful sound as if he was about to cry.

"So that strange sound just now was actually Quirrell's ability, but why did he wait for the troll to come?"

Holding a long sword, Parsifal stood quietly on the ground as three giant monsters surrounded him.

And Voldemort was like a real villain. Not only did he know how to block the novice village to intercept the brave at the beginning, he also stood on a thick branch with his wand pointed at him.

"I am a civilized person."

Parsifal showed a troubled expression, holding the sword with both hands, standing up straight, as if talking to himself. The giant hand closest to him grabbed him, and a shadow had already enveloped him.

He stepped lightly, stepped on the palm of the giant monster, and then jumped up again, climbing over into the endless shadows of the woods.

"Find him and kill him"

The red light missed his figure by a hair, and a high-pitched, cold voice shouted.

Wolf howls of "Ouch" came one after another, and figures in shabby clothes appeared from the surrounding treetops one after another, chasing after the silver wizard.

But Parsifal never thought of escaping, because his brooch did not allow it. As soon as he showed even the slightest thought of escaping, the light of the brooch became dimmed.

Gryffindor doesn't like cowards, or more accurately, Godric Gryffindor doesn't recognize cowards.

"It won't be today."

thought Parsifal.

He could feel the sword-shaped wand in his hand vibrating slightly, as if echoing his thoughts.

"I am walking on the road that fate has prescribed for me. Although I don't want to walk on this road, I have no choice but to walk on this road full of sorrow and indignation."

For some reason, he suddenly remembered Nietzsche's words and launched a real charge.

To die, to live.