It was Quirrel. And he was standing right in front of the Mirror of Erised.

"You?" Rosalyn bust out, angered for a reason she didn't know. Quirrel quickly turned round, his face was impassive and that only made her rage go further. "No! It's not you! Snape was the one that- he was the one-"

"Yes, Severus, he does seem like the type, doesn't he?" Quirrel said in a smug tone. "And next to him, who would suspect p-p-p-poor s-st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel?" He put on a fake stutter, had he been pretending this whole time?

"But that day! During the quidditch match, Snape tried to kill me!" Harry, who had been quiet so far, yelled at the man in the purple turban.

"No boy, I tried to kill you! And if Snape's robe hadn't set on fire and broke my eye contact, I would have succeeded! Even with Snape muttering his counter-curse," Quirrel said resentfully.

Rosalyn and Harry gasped and looked at each other, of all the possibilities they had thought of throughout the entire ordeal, this wasn't one of them.

"Snape tried to save me?"

"I knew you two were a danger to me right from the off, especially after Halloween," he said slyly.

"Then you let the troll in!" Rosalyn gasped.

"Yes, Snape, unfortunately wasn't fooled, when everyone else was running about the dungeons he went to the third floor to head me off. He of course, never trusted me again, barely left me alone," he turned to the mirror, and that was when Rosalyn grabbed her forearm and Harry his forehead, their scars were burning, but Quirrel was still muttering to himself. "But he doesn't understand, I'm never alone, never..."

He was annoyed with himself, and said. "Now what does this damned mirror do? I see what I desire, I see myself holding the stone, but how do I get it?"

A voice suddenly resonated throughout the chamber. "Use the boy, and the girl as well, yes, prioritize her."

Quirrel nodded and said. "Yes, yes, MISS POTTER, COME HERE!" He yelled, and Rosalyn slowly left Harry, and walked over to beside Quirrel. He shoved her harshly in front of the mirror, she stumbled but regained her footing to hear Quirrel say. "Tell me, what do you see?"

In the mirror, Rosalyn saw herself, she looked the same, but with one difference, she was recieving something from her picked, and the something, she presumed, was the philosopher's stone. She gasped at the image, and took a scared breath, Quirrel couldn't know what she was feeling.

The double of her in the mirror put the stone back in her pocket, and put a finger to her lips, Rosalyn knew she wouldn't feel anything, but she put a hand to her pocket.

Her head snapped up, something was in there, and it was the stone. How could it be anything else. Harry came over, and to Rosalyn's surprise, Quirrel didn't object. He was too fixated on the mirror.

"What do you see, girl?" He asked, Rosalyn had to make up a spur of the moment story.

"I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore," she lied smoothly. "I've won the house cup for Gryffindor, and the quidditch one as well!"

Harry looked alarmed as the same voice said. "She lies..."

Quirrel looked alarmed. "TELL THE TRUTH, WHAT DO YOU SEE?"

"I need to see her," The voice begged.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrel reasoned.

"I have enough strength for this."

So, without another word, Quirrel started to unfurl his turban, and with every unwind, Rosalyn grew more afraid of what was underneath it. If it managed to talk, what else could it do?

Finally, the last part of the pristine purple fabric was on the back of Quirrel's head, and as he was in the mirror, Rosalyn and Harry could see clearly what was going on, but neither really wanted to.

When Quirrel lifted the last of the turban off the back of his head, a face grew out of it. It was chalk-white, with sunken eyes and not a nose in sight. It was Voldemort.

They both knew this as soon as he made an appearance, this was the wizard that had murdered their parents and countless others, all of which were innocent. Rosalyn was filled with such a hatred for him that it overcame the fear. She was an entity of pure anger.

"Harry and Rosalyn Potter, here we meet again," he hissed, his voice cracked and hoarse.

"Voldemort," Harry breathed.

"Yes, do you see what I've become? What I've had to do to survive, live of another, be a parasite, unicorn blood can sustain me, but it doesn't give me a body..." He rasped.

"You don't deserve a body!" Rosalyn bellowed. "Neither do you deserve survival, you're just a-"

Quirrel snapped his fingers and she fell silent.

Voldemort continued. "There, however, is something that can give me a body, help me return to a physical state, and it, conveniently enough, lies in your pocket..."

Rosalyn had had enough, she grabbed Harry's hand and ran, but Voldemort yelled. "Stop them!" And Quirrel obeyed, snapping his fingers once more and creating a fire wall to prevent Rosalyn and Harry from getting through. They were trapped again.

Rosalyn backed away, and looked at the flames all around the room, but Voldemort spoke again. "Don't be a fool, why suffer death, when you could join me, and live?"

"NEVER!" Rosalyn and Harry hollered in unison.

"Bravery," Voldemort smirked slightly, and went on. "I've seen that before, as you're parents had it too, tell me, would you like to see them again... together?"

Lily and James appeared in the mirror, Harry and Rosalyn in between them. Rosalyn but her hand on the locket underneath her jumper, sadly looking at her mother and father.

"We can bring them back, all I ask, is for something in return," Rosalyn put her hand in her pocket slowly, and pulled out the stone. Harry gaped at it and Rosalyn looked at it, holding it close to her heart.

"That's it, Rosalyn," Voldemort whispered. "There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those who are too weak to seek it. Together, Rosalyn, with you, Harry, as well, we'll do extraordinary things." Rosalyn furrowed her eyebrows and looked at the man who had murdered her parents with no mercy. "Just give me the stone!"

"You're a liar!" Rosalyn shrieked.

That didn't bode well for her or Harry.

"Kill them! And do it now!" Was the only order that Voldemort gave to his servant.

Quirrel flew at the twins, knocking them down and holding a hand to each throat, causing Rosalyn to drop the stone so it was just out of reach.

Rosalyn was gagging and was quickly restricted of air, she out her hand on Quirrel's wrist, not expecting any kind of mercy, but something did happen, and she had no idea how.

It was as off she was burning his skin off, smoke came from the places their skin touched, and even though it didn't hurt Rosalyn, it certainly hurt Quirrel as he cried out in pain.

He was so shocked he stumbled backwards, and looked at his hand. Rosalyn and Harry sat up, astounded to see that Quirrel's hand seemed to be crumbling off in bits of black charcoals. He screeched. "What is this magic?"

Voldemort wasn't impressed. "You fool! Just get the stone!"

Rosalyn was looking at her hands in shock, and it began to sink in. Wherever she, and probably Harry as well, touched Quirrel, the place would disintegrate.

So she ran at him before he could do the same to her. She covered his face in her hands and he cried out, but she didn't care. His face slowly turned black and crumbly, and she removed her hands as he became past calling out, and both she and Harry knew he was going to die.

He put his deformed hand out to reach her, but his body crumbled before her eyes. His legs gave out, his arm fell off, and his body crumbled in on itself. All that was left of him was his ashy, slimy, dirty robes.

Rosalyn looked at the neck of his old clothes, he was gone. She looked at her hands again and then at Harry, and finally at the stone.

Harry came over to her and hugged her, "Rosie- that was amazing!" She smiled and said, "you weren't so bad yourself." Harry sighed and looked at the stone. She picked it up and held it in her hand, closing her eyes and sighing. It was ove-

"Rosie look out!"

Unbeknownst to Rosalyn, the smoke that was left from Quirrel's death was building up and a figure was formed out of it. He was shouting and so was she, he went straight through her stomach, knocking her over, it doubled back, going through Harry as well, and then it vanished.

The last thing Rosalyn remembered was the feeling of the stone in her hand, the feeling that she had saved it at last.