[Chapter Twenty Seven. Reflections, Resurrections, and Misconceptions. Edited.]

"Me," Quirrell said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"But I thought -- Snape --" Harry stuttered.

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. It sent a chill up my spine. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

"But Snape tried to kill me!" Harry yelled.

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a counter curse, trying to save you."

Oohh. Sorry Snape.

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry stated in shock.

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular...and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. I almost laughed. Harry was 'the-boy-who-lived' and as far as I was concerned, I was 'the-girl-who-lived', so Quirrell could shove it. No one is dying tonight. I strained my hand, desperately trying to reach my wand – it was trapped in my front pocket, and too awkward to get easily.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in!" Harry shouted.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls -- you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off -- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror. This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

I made eye-contact with Harry, who looked shocked to see me. We needed to divert Quirrell's attention, something, anything to keep him from looking at the mirror. Harry motioned with his eyebrows. I suppose I was going first.

Goodbye shame.

I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"STOP!" Quirrell shouted, but I just kept screaming.

It must have been a five minute scream. But then I ran out of air.

"Are you done?" Quirrell used his foot and rolled me over so I was lying on my back.

"You wish," I glared at him and he glared right back. "SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME THE WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME! I AIN'T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE SHED! VOLDY WAS LOOKING KIND OF DUMB WITH HIS FINGER AND HIS THUMB IN THE SHAPE OF AN 'L' ON HIS FOREHEAD!"

"SHUT UP!" Quirrell bellowed. He kicked me, hard, in the ribs and I felt intense, sharp pain before I heard the crack. He didn't realise I was used to that. I mean, it hurt, but I could cope.

"THE YEARS START COMING AND THEY DON'T STOP COMING. FED TO THE RULES AND I HIT THE GROUND RUNNING. DIDN'T MAKE SENSE NOT TO LIVE FOR FUN. YOUR BRAIN GETS SMART BUT YOUR HEAD GETS DUMB. SO MUCH TO —"

Quirrell kicked me again and hit me with a spell, which stopped me from making any noise.

"I SAID: SHUT UP!"

I glanced at Harry to say 'your turn.'

"I saw you and Snape in the forest ––"

Fortunately, he had a brain and his method would probably work for a lot longer. It'd hopefully be less violent, too.

"Yes," Quirrell was now walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side...." Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. "I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it."

I was still trying to get my wand. It would have been easier now I was on my back, but it was harder with my rib situation. Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He kept trying to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Snape was threatening you...." For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions -- he is a great wizard and I am weak --"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you." Harry gasped. I tried not to be shocked or look suspicious as I reached for my wand.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it...."

"You're wrong." I interrupted. "Voldemort is wrong."

"The Dark Lord is never wrong!" Quirrell gave me an odd look. I'd broken the silencing spell somehow. "Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me...." Quirrell's voice trailed away. "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror. Should I break it?"

I could not get my wand unless I dislocated my arm, which I couldn't do on my own. Harry exchanged a look with me, and it was as though we'd exchanged thoughts. He knew I was trying to get my wand to curse Quirrell. I knew Harry could get the stone by looking in the mirror.

Quirrell was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!" And to my horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself, "Use them," Quirrell rounded on Harry and me.

"Yes – Potter, Malfoy – come here." He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding us fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet. I winced the whole way.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry and I looked at each other via the mirror. I saw Harry's reflection smile at him, wink, and drop a blood-red stone in his pocket. As it did so, Harry glanced at me as if to say that he had gotten the stone.

"Well." said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?" I reached down for my wand. It wasn't there. It was lying across the room where I was earlier.

Is life ever easy?

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry invented. "I -- I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said, pulling me forward. "What do you see?"

I'm doomed.

What I actually saw, was four blurry figures standing in the background, they were dancing. I said something quite different, though.

"I see Voldemort... He's...corporeal... you've succeeded..." My reflection raised her eyebrows.

"Master..." Quirrell moaned and I vomited a bit in my mouth. "What else do you see?"

"He's... He's honouring you... with powers... beyond your imagination... I've never seen so much gold..." Via a mirror-eye-contact exchange, I told Harry to run. I was disposable, the stone was not. He told me 'not without you'. It was annoying, to say the least. I was running out of things to say. "Wait! He's... wow... I can't believe it... honestly... He's... He's declaring me the Darkest Lil' Lord on the planet... He thinks... he thinks you're incompetent. Oh I just killed you both."

"Move," Quirrell ordered, and pushed me away.

Harry grabbed my hand, we were going to run. We hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"They lie... They lie..."

"No shit... No shit..." I mimicked the voice, because I had no self-control.

"Come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again. "Let me speak to them... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

This is so messed up.

"I have strength enough... for this...."

Harry squeezed my hand so tight I thought it might just pop off. Petrified, we watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

I made a noise like a gurgling cat. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face I had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

There was silence for a moment. Being the well socially-developed person that I was, I needed to break the silence, "I did a poo that looked like you, once." 

Harry took a brief pause from his shock-horror and gave me a concerned look.

"Harry Potter..." Voldemort whispered as it looked at him. "And you." It looked at me. I was rooted to the spot. "I thought I killed you. Twice." I had no idea what Poo-de-mort was talking about. "See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds.... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own.... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

He knew? So he is a Psychic Creepy Poo-head.

I looked from Voldemort to Harry and back again, "Nah, I don't think we can. We're all booked up. I've actually got a counselling session in –" I checked my wrist, which had never worn a watch. "– now. So, like, Voldemort, my buddy, we've got to go. I'd love to stay and chat, really, but I'm a mental case. We could try to reschedule for next week, but I dunno, it's not good for my image to be seen with you. You understand, I'm sure."

"Willow." Harry said. There wasn't really anything else to say. I'd started a ramble. It could only get worse from here.

"Your sister is much more confident than she once was..." Voldemort's red eyes glowed. "But I won't make Lucius's mistake. I will make sure she is dead."

"Shut up!" Harry yelled. I had a feeling he just wanted to yell.

"Don't be a fool!" snarled the face. "Better save your own lives and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents.... They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry shouted.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching... I always value bravery... Yes your parents were brave.... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you two... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" Harry sprang toward the flame door – oh we're going? Cool – but Voldemort screamed, "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Quirrell's hand closed on Harry's wrist. He yelled and I punched Quirrell. Then I had an interesting thought. I punched Quirrell in the back of the head. Voldemort screamed.

"FOR NEVILLE!" I shouted, and I punched Voldemort in the face again.

Quirrell let go of Harry and slapped me to the floor. When I looked up, Quirrell had gone, and I saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers -- they were blistering before his eyes.

"SEIZE THEM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, his head made a sickening crack against the concrete. Quirrell had both hands around Harry's neck and was howling in agony. My wand was no longer where it had lain. It had vanished, for all intents and purposes.

"Master, I cannot hold him -- my hands -- my hands!" And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms. My hands were feeling suddenly very warm.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort. I was six feet away. Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse ––

"NO!" I reached forwards – Quirrell was knocked back. My hands felt as though they were fire. I felt as though I were six feet tall. Harry reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face.

"AAAARGH!" Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too. I worked it out: Quirrell couldn't touch Harry's bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain – Harry's only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and threw Harry off. Harry flew across the room and hit the wall with a sickening crack. He slid down, motionless.

Quirrell looked at me his face red and bloody.

I clenched my burning hands into fists, "Fight me!"

"You can't beat me, little girl."

"I'd like to contradict that."

He ran closing the gap between us, lunging for me. I side-stepped him.

"This one's for me."

I punched Voldemort as hard as I possibly could with my burning hands. There was a blinding light. I was airborne. Then blackness.