Hermione knelt on the ground weakly.
Her vision was filled with bloodshot veins, her eyes fixed on the twisted snake face on the back of Quirrell's head.
Lord Voldemort's hiss came from that face, sticky like a snake's tongue. "Bring that beast to me... What a pity; if it were Crucio, she could have watched with her own eyes as her pathetic little love was crushed into powder."
Quirrell turned around with a sinister grin.
His target was not Hermione, but the unconscious pure white fluffball in her arms.
"mudblood, this beast's only use," Quirrell's withered claws reached for Lia, his voice full of cruel pleasure, "is to please the great Master!"
That hand.
It grew larger and larger in Hermione's pupils.
Approaching Lia's snow-white fur inch by inch.
She forgot the spell.
Forgot to breathe.
Her brain went blank from extreme fear and rage.
The magic wand was in her hand, but it was as cold as a piece of scrap wood, unable to summon even a sliver of magic.
No.
Don't touch her.
At the moment Quirrell's fingertips were about to touch the snow-white fur—
"Don't touch her!"
A non-human roar erupted from the deepest part of Hermione's throat.
Anger and sorrow broke through her mental shackles.
Her body followed its most primal instinct and lunged forward!
She did not chant a spell; instead, she used the magic wand in her hand as a sharp knife, stabbing the outstretched hand with all her might!
She used the vine wood wand as a sharp knife, stabbing it deep into the reaching hand with all her strength!
Squelch!
The tip of the wand pierced through the back of the hand. Warm black blood splattered across her face.
"Ah—!"
Quirrell's scream broke the dead silence.
The pressure pinning Harry down loosened.
Now!
Harry sprang up from the ground! He roared and tackled Quirrell to the floor from the side!
"Don't touch her!"
"Get off!" Quirrell, enraged by shame, swung his hand at Harry's face.
Skin contact.
"Aaaaaah—!"
Quirrell's scream reached its peak as the pain of flesh and soul washed over him.
His palm boiled and carbonized the moment it touched Harry, turning to ash with acrid black smoke.
Harry was stunned.
The next second, he grabbed Quirrell's other arm tightly!
The ancient protection magic originating from Lily Potter was triggered by Lord Voldemort's malice!
"Master! My hand! I can't touch him!" Quirrell screamed in terror, watching his own body crumble inch by inch under that pure white power.
Finally, he turned into a pile of human-shaped ash.
"No—!"
Lord Voldemort's soul let out a shriek, turning into black smoke and darting out from the ashes, passing straight through Harry's body.
Harry gave a muffled groan and fell back, losing consciousness.
The world was finally quiet.
Victory? The enemy's retreat?
These words meant nothing to Hermione.
In her world, only the body losing heat in her arms remained.
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