Erii: A Journey Through the Heavens Begins with Frilian

Chapter 129 Voldemort, is it? Nice to meet you.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter!"

A small wizard hurriedly approached, took off his black top hat, bent down to be parallel to Harry, and reached out to hold Harry's hand.

"Mr. Potter, I am Doris Crockford. I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!"

Another elderly witch with gray hair stood up and grasped Harry's right hand with great excitement.

After that, the pub turned into an idol autograph session.

All the wizards present, regardless of age or gender, surrounded little Harry, vying to greet and shake his hand, as if it were a great honor to know him.

To maintain order, the bar owner and Hagrid gestured for everyone to line up in an orderly fashion so as not to frighten Harry.

"Ms. Doris, this is your third time in line," Hagrid reminded her.

The old witch, shaking hands with Harry for the third time, was still incredibly excited. "I simply can't believe I've met a living legend!"

As she spoke, she reluctantly let go of Harry's hand.

Harry went from being bewildered and frightened to smiling, touched by everyone's enthusiasm and kindness, though his hands were covered in the smell of tobacco, alcohol and barbecue.

"Oh, Professor Quirrell, forgive me for not seeing you, there were just too many people," Hagrid suddenly called out.

"N-nothing, Mr. Hagrid." A white male wizard approached Harry.

Hagrid introduced Harry and Erigo to Professor Quirinus, saying, "This is Professor Quirinus Quirrell, who previously taught Muggle Studies at the school, but will be in charge of the Defense Against the Dark Arts course this year."

Harry's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected to meet his Hogwarts teacher here. He immediately greeted him excitedly, "Hello, Professor Quirrell."

As he spoke, he reached out his hand to Quirrell.

Quirrell didn't shake hands, but forced a very awkward and nervous smile: "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Potter. Hmm~ I'm going to teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts, a fascinating yet—dangerous subject, but I think, Harry, you don't need it~"

As he spoke, his thin body trembled uncontrollably, his pale cheeks and taut eyelids twitched from time to time, and his timidity and slight stutter created the image of a cowardly, timid, stubborn and rigid scholar.

He was dressed in the black robes of Hogwarts faculty and staff, with a dark suit underneath, and a large purple turban wrapped around his head, resembling the style of an Arab oil tycoon.

Moreover, Erii and Harry could clearly smell a strong garlic odor coming from his head, specifically from the layers of turban he was wearing.

"Alright, we still need to take Harry to buy textbooks and a wand, everyone make way," Hagrid said with a smile.

But Erii didn't move; her right hand quietly touched the hilt of the sword.

"Little Tom, aren't you feeling suffocated?" she asked casually.

"Huh? Is this lady talking about me?" the bar owner asked, puzzled. "I'm not holding it in."

His name is also Tom.

Erii shook her head, turning to Professor Quirrell, whose expression was growing increasingly fearful. "Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

Almost instantly, as if urged or instructed, Professor Quirrell suddenly raised his hand and swung his wand.

"Ah—"

Erii drew her sword first and slashed out from a distance.

Puff puff!

A series of dull, unsettling sounds rang out.

Before anyone present could react, Professor Quirrell, who had been standing just moments before, had been scattered all over the ground in the blink of an eye.

Blood splattered dramatically, and the limbs and torso were difficult to piece back together, but the head remained intact, its wide-open eyes filled with horror.

Erii drew her sword not to unleash the Word of Judgment, but to defend against black magic that might hit her, even though her opponent had no chance to do so.

In the world of Frillian, this alchemical longsword received a buff, granting it resistance to all magic and the ability to weaken and resist magical damage through physical means. Even if it couldn't completely negate Avada Kedavra, it could at least reduce its power by more than half.

In conclusion, Erii simultaneously attacked and defended in an instant.

As for the Word of Power, it had already begun the moment she stepped into the bar. Apart from Harry and Hagrid, everyone else was already surrounded by invisible blades of judgment, ready to slice the room into pieces at any moment with a thought.

Dead silence —

The bar was quiet for at least half a minute, until a witch burst out with a scream.

People scattered and retreated, clearing a large, spacious area around Erii and Professor Quirrell that no one dared to approach.

They stared at Erii with undisguised surprise and doubt on their faces, completely unaware that this young girl was a powerful and unassuming wizard, let alone that she would act so ruthlessly and decisively.

Hagrid instinctively covered Harry's eyes to prevent him from witnessing such a bloody and horrific scene, then asked in astonishment, "Eri! What are you doing? Wait, who did you just call, Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

"What's wrong? Hagrid, what happened?" Harry had already reached the back door when he turned around and was suddenly covered in the face by a large hand. Apart from smelling the sweet, metallic scent of rust, he had no idea that Professor Quirrell had already gone to enjoy his good life.

At this moment, the bar owner and others also cautiously inquired.

Erii ignored the barrage of questions and instead waded through the blood to reach Quirrell's head.

"Hiss? It's still moving!"

"My God, am I seeing things?"

The crowd gasped in surprise.

Because his head was trembling almost imperceptibly, and strangely enough, Quirrell's facial features were already stiff, retaining the complex expression of his last moments before death.

Swish!

The blade sliced ​​through, cutting open the purple headscarf and revealing the back of the head, which was completely covered.

With just one glance, everyone felt a chill run down their spines, an extreme coldness coursing through every inch of their skin.

"Damn it! Damn it! Who are you?! How did you know?!"

On the back of Quirrell's head, a second cheek was protruding. Structurally, it was completely connected to Quirrell's skull and flesh, making him look like a deformed two-headed person.

His face was long and thin, his skin was as pale as paper, his pupils were red and sinister, and his roaring in anger resembled that of a mad snake.

"Quirok uses the smell of garlic to mask the chilling aura you exude," Erii said calmly. "Voldemort, is it? Nice to meet you."

Polite, but not much; after all, what polite child would dismember someone in public upon first meeting them?

The name Tom Marvolo Riddle might not have been particularly intimidating, but when Voldemort uttered it, it was as if a nuclear explosion had struck the scene. Everyone instinctively showed expressions of utter horror and screamed as they retreated to the corners.

Some people scrambled out of the bar, pushing open the door; others fainted from fright; but still others trembled as they pulled out their wands and pointed them at Quirrell's head.

>