"A Muggle's little trick…" the cold voice continued from beneath the robes, barely concealing a seething rage. "Never mind it. Kill him!"
"My friend, kill the boy for me!"
It seemed the parasitic Voldemort had gone mad with fury. Look at the decision he made. He had clearly witnessed the scene of a bullet striking the Killing Curse, yet he stubbornly refused to believe it, acting like an idiot.
Harry curled his lip, shrugged, and gave a helpless smile. "Fine."
Since you want to kill me, don't blame me for striking first.
As soon as he finished speaking, three bullets left the barrel in succession, making only a few unnatural muffled sounds before piercing Quirrell's shoulder, thigh, and arm.
Couldn't dodge?
Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Was Voldemort still not back in action?
Quirrell let out a piercing shriek, stumbling and nearly collapsing into the silvery-white pool of blood, yet his hand still clung desperately to his wand.
"No, my master, I can't do it! I can't kill him!" he groaned intermittently, pleading. "The weapon in his hand is too strange!"
"Worthless!"
The cold voice rang out, and the silhouette of the robed figure suddenly blurred, becoming hazy.
He rose into the air, moving as if uninjured, charging at Harry with incredible speed. Two crimson, maddened eyes were visible beneath his hood.
Harry had anticipated this. No matter how pathetic Voldemort looked now, he had once been a Dark Lord at the height of his power. His responses would certainly be far superior to that turban-wearing Quirrell.
Harry quickly raised his hand, aimed at the forehead of the possessed Voldemort, and pulled the trigger.
The moment the bullet drew near, the possessed Voldemort's form swayed, becoming like ethereal mist, and he dodged the bullet with ease.
The bullet passed him and embedded itself in a tree trunk behind.
Wait? He could dodge bullets?
Harry's eyes widened, and he blurted out, "Bloody hell, that's insane!"
But as impressed as he was, he still needed to dodge.
He threw himself backward, arching into a deep backbend.
The black smoke that was Voldemort drifted past, brushing against the fringe of hair on Harry's forehead. He felt dizzy again, a sensation coming from his scar.
Using his hand to brace against the ground slightly, Harry straightened up, shook his head dizzily, and turned to look towards the dense forest. Voldemort was nowhere to be seen.
Clearly, Harry's three-shot burst had knocked some sense into the parasitic Voldemort, and seeing the situation was unfavorable, he had chosen to retreat with his servant.
Still, this detention in the Forbidden Forest had been worthwhile. Harry had found out what he wanted to know.
Firearms weren't that much of a threat to the most powerful witches and wizards.
Take Voldemort as an example. Mind you, this was just a Voldemort clinging to a fragile existence. Within seven steps, the rule about a gun being fast and accurate wasn't 100% effective.
Next time, maybe he'd try loading some special bullets?
Harry was eager to try.
"You, you, you…" a stuttering voice sounded.
Harry turned to look. Hagrid and Draco were huddled together, trembling.
Hagrid, who had previously been bothered by Draco being a Slytherin, didn't seem to mind anymore. Draco, who had found Hagrid's half-giant heritage repulsive, no longer felt that disgust either.
They just clung to each other for comfort, staring wide-eyed at the cold, gleaming gun in Harry's hand, their faces full of terror.
"What… what is that?" Hagrid pointed a trembling finger at the gun in Harry's hand.
"A gun," Harry said casually, spinning it around his finger a couple of times before tucking it back into his clothes. He deliberately teased, "A Muggle weapon."
Draco looked incredulous. "But… but, it just, it cast a spell!"
And it was that green, sinister spell too!
"Oh, that," Harry said, looking pleased with himself. "It's all down to my skill. The Killing Curse hit the bullet, so of course it exploded."
"But I wouldn't recommend beginners try it. You'd be off having tea with Death before your reaction speed even kicked in."
Although spells traveled faster than bullets, sometimes even approaching the speed of light, it was a wizard who had to cast them.
Wizards were only human. As long as they hadn't surpassed human limits, it was still easy for Harry to read their movements before they acted.
"That's impossible…" Draco muttered. "How can a Muggle weapon… how can it counter the Unforgivable Curses?"
"Huh? Why not?" Harry found it amusing. He laughed and clapped Draco on the shoulder.
"Young master, times have changed."
Snape's expression was grim. Once he was sure the situation was stable and that Hagrid, along with the two little troublemakers, wouldn't face any more danger, he left with a dark look on his face.
Snape moved incredibly fast, nearly turning into a blurry black shadow as he headed straight for the Headmaster's office.
Damn it. How did that Potter brat get his hands on something so dangerous? And Dumbledore didn't even know!
How had those Muggles raised that little troublemaker all these years?
Snape could almost imagine the disastrous casualties if that Muggle weapon in Harry's possession went off accidentally inside the castle.
And that reckless little troublemaker himself could easily end up dead from a stray bullet!
By then, Hagrid and Draco had calmed down. Hagrid gave Harry a timid glance, feeling that James and Lily's child seemed somewhat different from what he had imagined.
Coupled with the fact that Harry had just fired several shots at the Dark wizard who might have been You-Know-Who, he didn't dare say anything. He just let out a grunt and slowly shuffled forward to check on the unicorn.
Draco, for his part, wasn't thinking that far ahead. Once he had calmed down, his disbelief gradually faded, and he pushed aside the lingering fear. Instead, he started staring at Harry, his eyes shining.
The combination of gunpowder and steel, creating immense destructive power, the unique romance forged in that process, excited him. He could almost hear the blood rushing in his veins.
He thought it was incredibly cool.
"Harry…" Draco inched closer, his eyes sparkling. "That thing…"
Could he see it?
Before Draco could finish, Harry guessed what he was about to ask and rejected him outright. "No."
Draco's face fell, and he asked indignantly, "Why?"
Harry gave Draco a once-over, noting his thin arms and legs, and sneered. "With arms and legs as skinny as yours, how much strength do you have? Could you even hold a gun steady?"
Draco grew even more displeased. "What about you? You're not exactly strong either! You're skinnier than I am!"
A vein pulsed on Harry's temple. He kept smiling, but his eyes were menacing.
Harry took a step forward. Draco's eyelids twitched, and he couldn't help swallowing nervously, taking a cautious step back. "What… what are you doing?"
Draco thought to himself: This Potter isn't going to punch me, is he?
His eyes darted to Harry's thin wrists, his expression clearly showing contempt: He's this thin? It's not even certain he could beat me in a fight!
Draco's expression was completely transparent, which only made Harry angrier. He pressed forward.
Draco: "…"
Damn, this was a bit frightening.
Even though Draco thought he was stronger than Harry, Harry was better at magic.
He still remembered the silent tap Harry had given him on the head back on the platform. Just thinking about those furry, warm ears made Draco's hair stand on end.
It was terrifying. And an absolute humiliation!
Draco's heart was pounding as he backed away step by step until his back hit a tree trunk. He could retreat no further.
"Wh-wh-what do you think you're doing to a Malfoy?" Draco warned, his voice shaky. "If you don't want to show me, fine! I'll just ask my father for one!"
"D-d-don't come any closer!"
Harry raised his hand and threw a punch aimed at Draco's face.
Draco's pupils contracted, and he instinctively squeezed his eyes shut.
Harry's fist stopped right beside Draco's face, leaving a deep hole in the sturdy tree trunk. Wood chips, smelling of damp, scattered across Draco's cheek, causing a slight stinging sensation.
Not feeling any sharp pain, Draco cautiously opened his eyes. He shifted slightly and saw the hole next to his head.
It was a tree that would take two people to wrap their arms around. Judging by the depth, Harry's punch seemed to have reached the heartwood.
Draco's face went pale.
Harry slowly withdrew his hand, flexing his slightly reddened knuckles.
When he had struck, he had secretly used magic to coat his delicate hand bones with a protective layer, so now there was only a slight ache, nothing that would interfere with his intimidation of Draco.
Harry admired the frightened, unpleasant expression on Draco's face and smiled with satisfaction. "I have strength. Do you?"
"Malfoy, how many punches do you think your head could take?"
"Or…" Harry deliberately paused and lowered his voice. "How about we guess how many pieces my fist could smash your head into?"