Disclaimer: Don't own 'em just playing!

AN: I decided to reread the Harry Potter series just for fun, and five chapters into the first book this little thing popped into my head. So after years of reading fanfiction I finally decided to write a piece. As Quirrell burning at the end of the book because he touched Harry didn't make any sense to me if he didn't burn at the start. So there we have it.

Harry's day was quickly growing from strange to stranger. First finding out he was a wizard and his parent weren't drunken layabouts to now finding himself famous!

As he stood nervously in the Leaky Cauldron, a small dingy pub, his hand was being shaken by a crowd that seemed to be endless. Some were even coming back for a second and third hand shake.

At last a new face had arrived in the line.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be

one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand,

"c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you." (Sorcerer's Stone)

Here things went wrong. All of a sudden, a sharp pain raced across his scar making Harry let go of Quirrell's hand and press his palms to it. As soon as contact between him and the professor seized the pain decreased.

At the same time a burning smell filled the air and Quirrell started shrieking.

His hand was being incinerated! Everyone looked on as Quirrell's hand started turning into an ash like consistency.

Quirrell's shrieks got louder and everyone backed away from the man.

The incineration seemed to be spreading to other parts of his body! Soon his second hand and neck were turning into the same ash like material. The burning, or incineration, kept spreading still.

At long last, although in actually it was a minute at most, Quirrell's inhuman shrieks ceased and his body, now only ash, fell to the floor.

Where Quirrell once stood a black mist coalesced into an ugly face. It floated in the air for a second before letting out a wail and charging straight at Harry.

However, his reflexes honed from years of partaking, albeit unwillingly, in "Harry Hunting", the young wizard ducked and the mist flew out the wall.

During this spectacle, not one of the patron's of the dingy pub moved or made a sound. The older ones recognized the mist's face and were rooted to the spot with looks of terror on their faces. The younger ones were horrified at the sight that they had seen.

As one the older crowd charged at Harry thanking him for saving them from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named yet again.

Harry was left stunned standing in the middle of the pub and wondering for the first time in his life if perhaps staying with the Dursleys wasn't so bad after all.