That wasn't Gavin's magic

"Grab him!" Voldemort urged shrilly from behind. "Don't let him get away!"

Quirrell instinctively backed away, his body already at its limit. Harry gritted his teeth and chased after him, grabbing Quirrell's other hand this time.

Quirrell screamed even harder. The back of his hand rapidly blistered and blackened, as though invisible flames were licking away at it layer by layer.

Pain made Harry's vision turn white, too, but he refused to let go. He threw his entire weight forward, dragging Quirrell to a halt.

"Let go of me!" Quirrell shrieked.

Harry gasped for breath, his forehead hurting so badly that he trembled, but he endured it without a word and held on to Quirrell for dear life.

Unable to break free, Quirrell looked down at his hand. The terror on his face slowly overtook the pain.

"Kill him!" Voldemort was still roaring behind him. "Quirrell, kill him!"

"I can't touch him!" Quirrell practically howled. "Master, I can't touch—"

Harry could no longer hear him. His forehead hurt too much.

Yet he still lunged forward, thrust out both hands, and pressed them straight against Quirrell's face.

Quirrell's entire body went rigid.

The next second, a scream far more agonized than before rang out, loud enough to split the walls.

Where Harry's fingers touched, the skin rapidly caved in and blackened. Quirrell's whole face was melting. He arched desperately backward, flailing his arms in an attempt to escape, but his legs gave out first, bringing Harry down with him.

Quirrell kept struggling, but Harry reached his limit first.

The terrible pain from deep within his scar finally drowned out every other sensation. His vision went black. His fingers remained pressed firmly against Quirrell's face even as his head dropped helplessly.

As he lost consciousness, he heard Quirrell let out a very