That wasn't Gavin's magic

"Grab him!" Voldemort shrieked 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, this time grabbing Quirrell's other hand.

Quirrell screamed even louder as blisters quickly formed on the back of his hand, turning black as if licked by invisible fire.

Harry was in so much pain that his vision went white, but he still clung on tightly, falling heavily forward and dragging Quirrell down with him.

"Let me go!" Quirrell screamed.

Harry was breathing heavily, his forehead throbbing so badly it made him tremble, but he stubbornly refused to say a word, clinging tightly to Quirrell.

Quirrell couldn't break free. He looked down at his hand, and the fear on his face gradually overshadowed the pain.

"Kill him!" Voldemort roared from behind, "Quirrell, kill him!"

"I can't touch him!" Quirrell practically screamed, "Master, I can't touch him--"

Harry couldn't hear anymore; his forehead hurt too much.

But he still lunged forward, stretched out his hands, and pressed them directly against Quirrell's face.

Quirrell froze completely.

The next second, an even more piercing scream rang out, shaking the walls so much they seemed to crack.

Where Harry's fingers touched, the skin quickly caved in and turned black, melting his entire face. Quirrell struggled to lean back, flailing his arms wildly, trying to break free, but his legs gave way first, causing him to fall to the ground with Harry.

Quirrell was still struggling, but Harry couldn't hold on any longer.

The excruciating pain emanating from the depths of the scar finally overwhelmed all other sensations. His vision went black, his fingers still pressed tightly against Quirrell's face, but his head inevitably slumped down.

As he lost consciousness, he heard Quirrell also let out a very strange, leaky gasp.

At this moment, Gavin came to their side, wanting to check on Harry's condition.

Quirrell wasn't quite dead yet; he lay there, occasionally twitching, his hands and face mangled beyond recognition, his entire body charred black.

Not long after, the twitching stopped.

Voldemort remained silent.

The next second, a wisp of black mist, barely maintaining its outline, slowly rose from the back of Quirrell's head, along with a face without a nose, and was forcibly peeled off Quirrell's body.

Gavin instinctively took a half step back, afraid of getting dirty.

The remnant soul paused in mid-air for a moment, then turned towards Gavin; where the pupil should have been, there was only darkness.

But Gavin knew it was watching itself.

"I'll remember you." The voice was venomous and piercing, like Curse.

Gavin ignored him, toying with the Wand he had just acquired, and twirled it slightly. "You'd better keep this good memory, Dark Lord."

The dark figure didn't speak again, then suddenly twisted and slid away along the wall, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

The only sounds left in the room were Harry's breathing and Quirrell's completely motionless body.

Gavin first knelt down to look at Harry and gave him a quick check-up. There were no wounds, and his pulse was steady. He seemed to be just exhausted, but he didn't know anything more specific.

Then his gaze lowered and settled on Harry's bulging trouser pockets—

Philosopher's Stone.

He squatted down, thought for a moment, and finally reached in and pulled the stone out.

The stone felt warm and a bit heavy as it settled in my palm. It looked somewhat like a top-quality raw Ruby, with a captivating and translucent color.

Just as Gavin picked it up, footsteps sounded at the door.

Gavin turned around and saw that Dumbledore had already passed through the Flame Door and was standing by the gate. He first looked at Harry, then at Quirrell's corpse, and finally his gaze fell on the Philosopher's Stone in Gavin's hand, his expression complex.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and the air was quiet.

Finally, Gavin looked down at the stone and the two people at his feet, then looked up at Dumbledore, and suddenly felt like the final villain. He hurriedly said, "Professor, I can explain."

"I also look forward to your explanation." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly and nodded. "I also have many questions for you, Mr. Gu."

Gavin opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. He just looked down at his feet and said, "Well, before that, I think we should get Harry to the Hospital Wing first."

Dumbledore agreed, "I think so too. Mr. Potter has had a long enough day; it's time for him to get some rest."

After saying that, without Dumbledore using his Wand, Harry automatically flew up and flew towards Dumbledore's side.

"Mr. Gu, I think you should also go to the Hospital Wing for a check-up," Dumbledore continued.

Gavin nodded and walked over to Dumbledore. After thinking for a moment, he handed the Philosopher's Stone to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore clearly a little surprised and laughed, "Given your personality, I thought you would take it and study it right away."

"I did have that idea, but I'm tired today, so I'll leave it with you for safekeeping." Gavin shrugged, then suddenly remembered something and said, "Don't rush to destroy it."

Dumbledore was taken aback. "How did you know...?"

Gavin looked at Dumbledore, his expression serious and without a hint of joking, and said, "I'm serious, this is important."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then nodded. "As you wish. It seems we really do need to have a proper talk later."

With that, he summoned Fawkes and left with Gavin and Harry.

When Harry woke up, he sensed a shiny Golden Snitch circling in the air. He tried to catch it, but his arm felt unusually heavy.

He blinked and realized it wasn't Golden Snitch, but a pair of glasses. Only then did he see that behind the glasses was Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Professor Dumbledore, it's Quirrell! He—"

"Calm down, Harry, it's all over now. Quirrell didn't get the Philosopher's Stone, and you're back in the Hospital Wing," Dumbledore quickly reassured him.

Harry then realized that he wasn't in the underground room; he was surrounded by bed curtains, pillows, and a familiar smell of medicine.

"Relax, or Madam Pomfrey will kick me out!" Dumbledore said, noticing Harry's still tense expression.

Harry blinked, then relaxed a little and began to look around. He found himself in a hospital room with a large table next to him, covered with enough Sweets to open a Sweets store.

Noticing Harry's gaze, Dumbledore explained, "It was a gift from your admirers. Apparently, your affair with Professor Quirrell, oh, and Gavin, is a secret, but the whole school knows about it. Gavin publicly stated that by the time he arrived, it was already over, so everyone assumes you protected the school. The two Mr. Weasleys also prepared a wheelchair with a toilet for you, but Madam Pomfrey thought it was unhygienic and confiscated it."

Seeing that Harry had calmed down a bit, Dumbledore told him what had happened afterward, including Voldemort's whereabouts.

Harry was very concerned about the whereabouts of the Philosopher's Stone, to which Dumbledore replied that he had discussed it with Nick Flamel and they had decided to destroy it.

Harry was silent for a moment, then asked, "What about Gavin?"

"He should already be in class," Dumbledore said. "Although Madam Pomfrey thinks it's not appropriate for him to be running around now, he doesn't entirely agree."

"Do you know what magic Gavin used on me in the end? Why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then, after a long pause, understood what Harry meant. He smiled and said, "Child, that wasn't Gavin's magic; that was your mother's magic. Your mother sacrificed herself to protect you. If there's one thing Voldemort couldn't understand, it's love."

He pointed to Harry's scar. "Your mother's love was so strong that even though she's gone, it still deeply protects you. A greedy and hateful person like Quirrell could never touch someone marked by something so pure and beautiful."

Harry's eyes reddened upon hearing this, Dumbledore looked out the window, waiting for Harry to calm down on his own.

After a long silence, Harry finally spoke up, "So, do you know why Professor Snape hates me so much?"

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore turned around, blinked, and said, "That's your father's business. Your father saved his life, so he hates your father even more."

Harry was even more confused now. "I don't understand, Professor. Why does he hate Snape even more now that my father saved him?"

"You'll understand later." Dumbledore stood up, picked up a golden Bertie Bott's Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and said, "Alright, now you should rest well and have some Sweets. I hope this one is toffee flavored."

He put the bean in his mouth, then immediately coughed. "Oh, damn it, it's earwax!"

Just then, footsteps sounded in the Entrance Hall. It was Hermione and Ron. They had begged Madam Pomfrey for a long time before she let them in.

Hermione saw Harry was awake as soon as she came in and couldn't help but open her arms and hug him. Ron followed behind, clearly happy as well.

Dumbledore didn't bother them any further and turned to leave.

At the Hufflepuff Long Table.

"So by the time you got there, it was already over?" Justin asked, still unwilling to give up, holding his knife and fork.

Justin been acting like he's possessed these past two days, questioning everything from breakfast to dinner, from the Common Room to the boys' dormitory. He even followed Gavin to the Lavatory to interrogate him relentlessly, leaning against the wall. He doesn't believe a word of Gavin's nonsense.

"Um."

"You just stood there, glanced at it, and then came back?"

"Almost."

"Gu," Justin narrowed his eyes, "Do you know you're talking like someone who just buried a body?"

Gavin, engrossed in a plate of lamb pilaf made by the House-elf, didn't even look up. "I suggest you read fewer detective novels."

"It's not about the novel," Justin said immediately. "You're the one who's too suspicious!"

Ernie, who was sitting to the side, swallowed the steak in his mouth and interjected, "I think Gu's point is very reasonable."

"Of course you would," Justin turned his head, "As long as his expression is calm enough, you could even believe he went to the Forbidden Forest last night to play chess with Werewolf."

Ernie thought about it seriously, "Werewolf usually don't play chess."

"Is that the point?" Justin glared at Ernie, then turned back to Gavin.

Suddenly, someone tapped on the table, interrupting him.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Gu, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you." The Hufflepuff upperclassman who came to deliver the message bent down and looked at Gavin. "The password has changed; he's been liking honey Lemonade lately."

Gavin responded, wiped his mouth, and got up to leave.

Justin immediately stood up: "I can go with you—"

"No," Gavin said.

"You haven't --"

"Wait until I get back, then I'll think of a way to lie to you."

Justin: "..."

The stone beast leaped aside, Gavin ascended the exposed stone steps. The Spiral Staircase was quiet, with only the soft sound of his robe brushing against the stone steps.

When he reached the door, he knocked twice, and before anyone could respond, the door opened by itself.

There seemed to be no one in the Headmaster's Office.

The fire in the Fireplace was not burning very brightly, and the silverware spun gently on the slender-legged table. The portraits of the principals on the walls were all quieter than the last, their quietness deliberate, as if a group of elderly people had suddenly decided to present some "the demeanor of sages of the past" to impress the young person who had just entered.

Gavin stood at the door, looked them over, took two steps forward, and then bowed three times very seriously.

The portraits suddenly came to life.

"Hey, you black-haired the East kid!" A portrait with a hooked nose almost popped out of its frame. "Don't think I don't understand, this is the East ritual for worshipping the dead!"

"Oh, oh? Really?" The other plump female principal closed her fan. "I was just about to praise him for being so polite."

"He's quite cute," someone said from behind.

"What's so cute about him? He's visiting our grave!"

"Black, don't forget, we really are dead."

"That's still not allowed--"

Gavin straightened up, his expression very sincere.

"I was simply overwhelmed with admiration upon seeing so many seniors, and I couldn't contain my emotions."

"Listen to him," an elderly headmaster with curly hair said, clearly admiring Gavin. "He's eloquent, like a Muggle poet I once met, something like Shakespeare."

"Like a fraud," Headmaster Black added coldly.

"That's still cuter than you." With that, the curly-haired wizard jumped into Headmaster Black's picture frame and punched him.

The portraits were in complete disarray when footsteps suddenly came from the side door.

"Alright, let's leave Mr. Gu alone."

Dumbledore emerged from behind a small door, holding a pair of pruning shears in his hand, his cuffs stained with a silvery-green sap, as if he had just tended to some grumpy magical plant.

"Excuse me, Gavin," he said. "Older people often have this misconception that they're funny. Please sit down. Would you like something to drink?"

Gavin glanced at the table, hesitated for a moment, and asked, "Cola?"

Dumbledore paused, then asked curiously, "Oh, what's that?"

"A Muggle drink." Gavin pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'll bring you a can next time. You'll probably like it. Now... Lemonade, please."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a glass of chilled drink appeared on the table.

Gavin picked it up and took a sip. His brow twitched slightly. It was full sugar, and there was way too much honey in it.

After he put the cup down, he quietly pushed it outwards by half an inch.

Dumbledore as if he hadn't seen her, and sat down behind his desk, interlacing his fingers. "How have you been lately?"

"That's good," Gavin said. "But to save time, let's get straight to the point. You probably have more than one question, so we can speed things up and save time."

Dumbledore blinked. "Sometimes I think a little small talk is worthwhile."

"Sometimes I think so too," Gavin nodded, "But I'm afraid there's no need for that today."

Dumbledore smiled and didn't beat around the bush any longer, "Alright. First question—when did you first learn about the Philosopher's Stone?"

Gavin leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment.

"It's easy to deduce this from when Harry, Hermione, and Ron started looking for Nicolas Flamel everywhere," he said. "Just think about what happened before, the Gringotts theft. Going back a bit further, Harry himself told people that Hagrid took something from Gringotts and then put it behind Trapdoor on the fourth floor."

He paused for a moment and looked at Dumbledore.

"Honestly, Professor, you guys didn't really keep it a secret."

Dumbledore didn't reply, but just looked at him, his blue eyes fixed on Gavin behind his half-moon spectacles, as if considering the credibility of his words.

Gavin didn't flinch either, and quietly watched Dumbledore.

After a few seconds of silence in the office, Dumbledore spoke, "I must say, Mr. Gu, you have mastered Occlumency very well."

Gavin immediately shook his head. "Believe it or not, Professor, I haven't practiced Occlumency. At most, it's a byproduct of some good the East lifestyle habits. If it really comes down to Legilimency, I can't stop you."

On the fourth floor that day, Voldemort was just a remnant soul, Quirrell was very weak; they were simply not on the same level as the person sitting behind the desk in front of them.

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment, then gently shook his head. "Hogwarts doesn't use Legilimency check students; we respect their privacy."

"That put my mind at ease a little."

"Only a little?"

"Considering that the person sitting across from me is you, the most powerful White Mage of this century—the White Wizard, this is already more than enough."

Dumbledore's lips twitched, but he didn't accept the compliment. Instead, he said, "Let me rephrase the question. Since you guessed where the Philosopher's Stone was, why didn't you go and retrieve it beforehand?"

Gavin chuckled after hearing this. "Professor," he said, "If someone tells you they've seen a chest of gold on the grasslands, would you be foolish enough to just run over, pick it up, and take it?"

Dumbledore looked at him, as if waiting for the next part of his sentence.

"No," Gavin said. "Because the box didn't just grow on the grassland for no reason, and no one would kindly tell you about it. There are most likely hunters, traps, or something worse around. If you actually reach out to grab it, you'll die without even knowing how."

"Gold on the grasslands?" Dumbledore repeated. "But we've designed many interesting challenges."

Thinking of those childish challenges, Gavin's lips twitched. He looked at Dumbledore with a "Are you serious?" expression.

Dumbledore finally smiled happily, "An interesting analogy. So, Voldemort was the fool who went straight for the gold."

"So far, yes." Gavin habitually picked up his water glass to drink, but then silently put it back down, thinking of the lethal dose of honey.

I like that way of putting it.

"I later discovered that Harry was practically the only person in the entire school really paying attention to this," Gavin continued. "That's when I knew it might be related to him, and it might be related to you."

Dumbledore tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "Is that so?"

"At first, I just thought it was a trap, but when Harry actually went in and no one stopped him, I realized it might not be what I thought." Gavin chose the most logically sound explanation, "When I curiously followed him in and discovered the mechanisms, I finally confirmed it."

"What was confirmed?"

"This is a trial, or rather, a test." Gavin looked at Dumbledore, awaiting his response.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "How did you figure that out?"

"Those mechanisms, Professor," Gavin said sincerely, "Don't seem designed for a Dark Lord at all; they seem tailor-made for Harry and his friends."

"Looks like Harry and the others did a good job, didn't they?" Dumbledore. "And how did you know, um—that Harry had the Love Magic?"

"I don't know, Professor," Gavin shrugged. "I just believe you."

Dumbledore paused, then asked, "What do you mean?"

"I trust you won't let anything happen to Harry," Gavin said confidently. "If this is a trial, then there must be some kind of safety net protecting Harry that I don't know about."

This time, Dumbledore didn't deny it immediately. After a moment, he sighed softly, "A very thorough deduction."

"If that's the case, why did you go in?" Dumbledore looked at Gavin again. "You just need to wait outside; there's no need to risk going through that Black Fire at the end."

"I have my reasons," Gavin said. "Partly out of curiosity, and partly because I needed to make sure Voldemort couldn't get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone."

So you ended up there after all.

"Yes."

"Then, even knowing that Harry was most likely to be alright, they still made a move."

"Because 'probably' is not 'certain'," Gavin said. "Especially when facing the Dark Lord, I think it's better to be careful. At that time, I felt Harry might be in big trouble."

He didn't mention that Harry wasn't originally tied up in the book, which is too hard to explain. Who would have thought that Quirrell would suddenly have the idea to tie Harry's hands up, thus prolonging what should have been a short process?

Dumbledore nodded. "Quirrell was indeed unable to harm Harry at that time. His body was almost no longer his own; the more Quirrell touched Harry, the faster he would die, even with spells."

"Now I understand."

The Headmaster's Office fell silent, and the firewood in the Fireplace crackled softly.

Dumbledore looked at him, then suddenly asked, "Then why don't you just deal with Quirrell directly?"

Gavin looked down at his hands, then at Dumbledore, and said helplessly, "Professor, I'm still a first-year student. Transfiguration, the Lumos, and a little bit of cleverness—that's basically all I have. You can't expect me to chase the Dark Lord all over the house, can you?"

"I don't believe an ordinary first-year student could pass through the Flame Door designed by Professor Snape." Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "And that last one, was it just Lumos?"

"Just a 'tiny' improvement," Gavin said, sounding rather unsure.

Dumbledore didn't speak, and continued to look at Gavin.

Gavin felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze and spoke first, "So, Professor, you saw the whole thing that night through the invisible Fawkes?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then laughed out loud, "What? Oh, no, Fawkes isn't Demiguise; he can't become invisible."

Upon hearing this, the Fawkes on the nearby shelf let out a disgruntled neigh, as if in protest, wondering who they were looking down on.

"It's the Mirror of Erised. I made a slight adjustment to the mirror to temporarily give it the effect of a one-way mirror." Dumbledore a little proud, feeling quite pleased with his ingenuity.

"I see."

"Are you disappointed?"

"A little," Gavin nodded. "I thought a phoenix would fly in to supervise your work."

Dumbledore's smile faded slightly, and a hint of admiration appeared in his eyes as he looked at Gavin.

"To be honest, Gavin," he said, "I was a little afraid of you before tonight."

Gavin didn't respond, waiting for him to finish speaking.

"You are very clever, exceptionally clever. I have never seen a student like you. So I have always worried that you might slide into the abyss," Dumbledore said quietly. "One Tom is enough; I don't want to see a second one."

The office was quiet; some of the portraits changed color involuntarily upon hearing the name.

"But I don't think so now," Dumbledore said.

"Why?"

"Because the Dark Lord wouldn't put himself in danger repeatedly to save someone," Dumbledore, watching him frown and put down his honey water again. "He also wouldn't sit like this in front of me and complain that my Lemonade has too much honey. He would most likely be more dignified."

Although Dumbledore didn't completely believe Gavin's words, if someone said that the boy in front of him was the future Dark Lord, he would just smile. Compared to the elegance of the previous two Dark Lords in their youth, Gavin seemed somewhat out of place.

He even asked Professor McGonagall for her opinion on this, and Professor McGonagall simply said, "Have you ever seen a Dark Lord spend time wandering around the kitchen every night?"

Gavin glanced down at the almost untouched glass of honey Lemonade: "This is definitely too much."

"I will remember." Dumbledore smiled and leaned back in his chair. "So, are you willing to forgive an old man?"

"We'll see," Gavin, pursing his lips, seemingly quite unhappy about being compared to Voldemort.

"For example?"

"For example, if you feel apologetic, you'd better show some sincerity."

The smile in Dumbledore's eyes became obvious.

"What do you want, child? I've managed to save up a little money over the years."

"I want the Philosopher's Stone."

Dumbledore's smile froze, as if he hadn't heard clearly, or perhaps he had heard it all too clearly. "... What?"

Gavin sat there, calm, his speech unchanged.

"The Philosopher's Stone," he said. "I hope you listened to me and haven't destroyed it yet; it's of use to me."

Dumbledore looked at him and slightly opened his mouth.

The old principals who had been pretending to be asleep just moments before were now wide awake, with even Headmaster Black shifting his gaze to stare directly at Gavin.

Gavin looked at them, unwavering. "I'm going to use it to save Cordelia, that's why I have to be in the Dungeon."