The lights of the town had long since disappeared.
Only the smell of the sea remained…
Along with the faint stench of garlic drifting through the storm.
Inside the coach, passengers slept soundly.
A man snored softly.
Hidden beneath a seat, Vincent continued practicing magic.
The leg of the seat shifted from dull gray…
To dark green…
Then deep crimson.
Outside, the bus rounded a sharp bend.
A gust of rain-laden sea wind swept through a partially open window.
Vincent stood upright.
Through the curtain of rain, he could just make out the silhouette of an enormous sea stack rising from the dark ocean.
The storm obscured almost everything.
But one thing was unmistakable.
A small wooden hut stood atop the rock.
The Hut-on-the-Rock.
Harry Potter was there.
At that very moment…
The smell behind him intensified.
Garlic.
Rot.
Decay.
It was so overwhelming that it almost made him choke.
They were close.
Far too close.
Then—
Splat.
Something struck the rear window.
It wasn’t rain.
Vincent instinctively looked back.
His blood ran cold.
Quirinus Quirrell’s face was pressed against the glass.
He floated horizontally outside the moving bus, one hand against the window while his eyes searched the cabin.
Vincent nearly cried out.
Instead, he swallowed the scream.
Without hesitation, he sprang through the open window.
The world spun.
He hit the gravel shoulder hard before tumbling several times across the roadside.
Pain shot through every bone in his body.
But he couldn’t stop.
The stench followed immediately behind him.
He vaulted over the roadside barrier and landed among the jagged rocks scattered across the beach.
“Reducio!”
“Softening Charm!”
“Reducio!”
Large boulders blocking his path shrank.
Sharp rocks beneath his feet softened just enough to keep him moving.
The coach disappeared into the storm.
Its taillights faded.
Darkness swallowed the coastline.
Only the crashing sea remained.
Vincent ran with everything he had.
“Interesting…”
Voldemort’s cold voice echoed behind him.
“A magical creature?”
Vincent’s heart skipped a beat.
He thinks I’m a magical beast…
It made sense.
An ordinary Animagus couldn’t cast magic while transformed.
Before he could think further—
A flash of emerald light streaked past his head.
The Killing Curse narrowly missed.
Another followed immediately afterward.
The beach offered nowhere near as much cover as the forest.
A least weasel could hide among roots and undergrowth.
Not on open stone.
The rock beneath Vincent suddenly expanded upward.
He lost his footing.
The Killing Curse struck the boulder instead, blasting fragments of stone into the air.
He survived…
Barely.
But he rolled uncontrollably across the jagged shoreline.
Sharp stone sliced through his fur.
A burning sting spread across his body.
Blood mixed with seawater.
The tide rushed around him.
He struggled onto a piece of floating driftwood.
“You really can run.”
Voldemort sounded almost amused.
“Among the Aurors I have killed…”
“Very few could flee as well as you.”
Quirrell floated steadily closer.
His expression remained blank.
Only the face beneath the turban moved.
“A wizard’s familiar?”
“Dumbledore’s latest trick?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It’s over.”
Quirrell slowly raised his wand.
Vincent reacted first.
“Ventus!”
A powerful gust erupted behind him.
Instead of lifting him into the air…
It pushed the driftwood across the surface of the sea.
The Killing Curse struck the water where he had been moments before.
Spray exploded into the air.
He wasn’t giving up.
Not yet.
The driftwood wasn’t a boat.
The Wind Spell wasn’t meant to propel people across the sea.
But together…
They were enough.
Spell after spell strengthened the invisible wind.
The makeshift raft surged toward the distant sea stack.
Quirrell watched from above.
“So…”
“You want to live a little longer?”
He rose higher into the air and pursued.
The sea grew rougher.
Rain hammered Vincent relentlessly.
Half the driftwood remained submerged.
Several enormous waves crashed over him.
More than once, both he and the driftwood disappeared beneath the surface before another burst of wind forced them back up.
Saltwater filled his nose.
He coughed violently.
The system interface flickered at the edge of his vision.
The rocky island loomed ever closer.
Then…
The smell of garlic returned.
Much closer than before.
“You wish to go there?”
Voldemort laughed softly.
“Allow me to help.”
Quirrell flicked his wand.
“Depulso!”
The blast struck the sea.
Water erupted upward like an explosion.
Compared with the force of the Banishing Charm…
Vincent’s wind spell felt insignificant.
The shockwave hurled him through the air.
The driftwood shattered instantly.
He slammed hard against the rocky sea stack.
Pain exploded through his chest.
Several ribs might have broken.
He couldn’t tell.
His vision blurred.
Barely conscious, he dug his tiny claws into the wet stone to stop himself from sliding back into the sea.
Quirrell had succeeded.
Vincent now lay only a few yards from the hut.
What time was it?
11:40?
11:50?
He didn’t know.
Midnight hadn’t arrived.
Hagrid wasn’t here yet.
The hut’s door remained firmly shut.
“Waaah!”
“Dad!”
“What’s that noise outside?”
Dudley Dursley’s frightened voice echoed from inside.
“Don’t look, Dudley!”
Petunia Dursley sounded equally terrified.
“It’s probably…”
“…a dead seagull.”
Vincent forced himself upright.
Every movement sent pain through his body.
Quirrell didn’t even look at him.
Instead…
He turned toward the hut.
“You brought me…”
“…to Harry Potter.”
Voldemort’s voice became strangely quiet.
Vincent froze.
Then he understood.
Harry carried the fragment of Voldemort’s own soul.
Even now…
Voldemort could sense him.
He had known Harry was inside the hut from the moment they approached the island.
Footsteps hurried across the wooden floor.
Light.
Quick.
Not Dudley’s.
Harry was probably reinforcing the door, just as he had in the original story.
“So…”
“You believe he can save you?”
Voldemort chuckled.
Quirrell smiled as well.
Then both expressions vanished.
“You have merely delivered him to me.”
The two voices spoke together.
Quirrell pointed his wand toward the rocky ground.
A brilliant spell struck the sea stack.
The entire island shook violently.
Deep cracks spread through the rock.
Inside the hut…
The Dursleys screamed.
Huge waves battered the cliffs below.
Vincent’s pupils contracted.
He’s trying to collapse the island.
He wants to drown Harry.
Voldemort didn’t yet know he couldn’t touch Harry.
Perhaps…
He believed drowning Harry would bypass the ancient protection entirely.
Would it work?
Vincent didn’t know.
He heard furniture crashing inside the hut.
Harry and the Dursleys were desperately trying to brace the collapsing building.
Harry has to get outside.
Only then can he touch Quirrell.
Ignoring the agony coursing through his body…
Vincent cast another Wind Spell, propelling himself forward.
At the same time…
He attempted to cast Reducio on Quirrell’s turban, hoping to tighten it around the professor’s neck.
A shimmering Protego appeared instantly.
The spell dissipated harmlessly.
Quirrell already knew his opponent could use magic.
With a casual swing of his arm…
He struck Vincent.
The possessed wizard’s strength far exceeded that of an ordinary man.
Vincent was sent flying.
He smashed heavily against the rocks once more.
A mouthful of blood sprayed from his lips.
Bright crimson stained the rain-soaked stone.