Harry Potter had reached the final part of the obstacle course, and the scar on his forehead throbbed even more intensely.
"Why is it you? Where's Snape?"
When Harry arrived at the final room, he was shocked to find that the person standing there wasn't Snape as he had expected—it was Professor Quirrell.
The entire room was in full view. The only object inside was the Mirror of Erised, which Harry had once been obsessed with. Unless Snape was hiding behind the mirror, the room held only two people: Harry and Professor Quirrell.
"Yes! He looks like a typical villain, right? So, with him around, who would ever suspect the stammering Professor Quirrell?"
Quirrell had explained away his strange behavior by claiming he had been frightened by vampires in the forests of Albania—an excuse that made his actions seem reasonable and led everyone to understand his sudden change.
But anyone who truly understood him could see the clues in his behavior. As a Ravenclaw, Quirrell's knowledge of vampires wasn't limited to textbooks.
Wrapping his head with a turban soaked in garlic juice as a supposed vampire repellent was laughable—unless the so-called vampire was actually attached to his head. The garlic-soaked turban seemed more like a seal than protection.
To Harry's question, Quirrell responded with a blunt confession, slapping him in the face with the truth.
I'm the villain in your heart! Snape was merely a convenient cover.
"But… that day during the Quidditch match, Snape tried to kill me."
Harry still couldn't believe it. The villain wasn't Snape? Why not Snape? He looked so evil!
"You're wrong, child! I was the one trying to kill you. Believe me, if the stands hadn't collapsed and disrupted my concentration, you would've died back then, instead of merely breaking your arm."Quirrell once again took the blame—though it was indeed his to take. Then, after a moment, he even defended Snape, "No amount of counter-curses from Snape would've helped."
"Snape… was trying to save me?"
Once again, Harry's worldview was shaken. He was starting to believe Quirrell's words. Sometimes, it was easier to believe an enemy than a friend.
"I knew from the beginning that you'd be a threat to me, especially after Halloween."
The reasoning sounded absurd, but considering Quirrell was trying to deal with the Voldemort inside his turban, he could say anything—no matter how illogical—and not be embarrassed. I knew you were destined to be my enemy, so taking you out early was only logical.
"So you were the one who let the troll in?"
At the mention of Halloween, Harry immediately remembered the troll incident. That was when Hermione fought the troll, only for Ron to steal the credit. Perhaps that was when fate began shifting her path to another house.
"Excellent! Potter, you guessed it. Too bad Snape didn't fall for it. While everyone else was running around the dungeons in a panic, he went straight to the third floor to stop me."
What a perfect opportunity it had been! To place all suspicion on himself right in front of the whole school.
Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest magical school—how could a troll just waltz in and wander the dungeons? All the teachers and students were at dinner, yet Quirrell just happened to be the last one to arrive. And after reporting the troll's entrance, what did he do as a professor? He… fainted! Right in front of everyone!The worst part? No one even helped him up. It's not like he was going to fake an injury!
With a tone full of regret and helplessness, Quirrell continued explaining. What he didn't know was that Regulus Black had also been absent at the time, which actually reduced the level of suspicion against him.
"Of course, after that, Snape never trusted me again. He barely let me out of his sight. But what he never figured out… was that I was never alone."
Harry couldn't understand what Quirrell meant. If Regulus Black had been here, he would've immediately known Quirrell was referring to Voldemort—embedded in the back of his head.
Quirrell turned to face the Mirror of Erised, and since Harry was now looking directly at the back of Quirrell's head, his scar suddenly throbbed with intense pain.
"Now back to the point—what does this mirror do? I can see what I desire most. I see myself holding the Sorcerer's Stone… but how do I get it?"
Quirrell was completely baffled. After dropping so many hints, how could Headmaster Dumbledore have left the Mirror of Erised here? Was it just for nostalgic purposes? If that was the case, he might as well have set a powerful curse trap to destroy both himself and Voldemort. Or better yet, seal the two of them away together.
"Use the boy!"
Finally, having heard enough explanations and nonsense, Voldemort spoke. A chilling, ghostly voice swept across the room.
"Come here, Potter! Tell me—what did you see?"
Voldemort's order could not be refused, and Quirrell immediately put on a vicious expression, commanding Harry Potter.
Kid, why aren't you running?! I've talked so much, explained everything in such detail—why didn't you use that time to make a run for it?!
Watching Harry obediently walk over and stand in front of the Mirror of Erised, Quirrell felt his heart bleeding.
As expected of a foolish lion from Gryffindor.
This time, when looking into the Mirror of Erised, Harry's mind was full of thoughts about the Sorcerer's Stone. Naturally, he was able to see it in the mirror. In the reflection, he saw himself smiling, holding a blood-red crystal he had never seen before, and then smugly placing it into his pants pocket.
Immediately after, Harry felt a weight in his pocket—a hard, solid object pressing against the fabric.
That was the Sorcerer's Stone. It had to be the Sorcerer's Stone. Harry instantly grew nervous.
"I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the House Cup."
Harry could only recite the lines he had learned from Ron. Although that was one of his dreams, it wasn't as strong or vivid as Ron's. So the way he said it lacked the emotional conviction of someone whose desires had just been fulfilled.
"He's lying!"
Voldemort roared. In truth, he already knew Harry had gotten the Stone. After all, as the once-mighty dark wizard who had led the Death Eaters, his judgment on such matters was rarely wrong.
"Tell me the truth—what did you see?!"
Quirrell had no choice but to follow Voldemort's lead and shouted at Harry as well.
"Let me speak with him."
"Master, you haven't regained your strength yet."
"My power is more than enough for this."
No longer willing to endure his servant's incompetence, Voldemort decided to act personally. Quirrell had no way to resist. He slowly unwound his turban, revealing a decaying face hidden beneath it.
"Harry Potter! We meet again. See what I've become? Do you know what I've had to do to survive? I live by clinging to others—like a parasite. Unicorn blood allows me to stay alive, but it can't give me back my body. But there's another way. That easily obtainable object... it's in your pocket."
Voldemort's eerie tone sent shivers down the spine. His slow, casual manner of speaking only emphasized the desperation of his will to live. And when he mentioned "that easily obtainable object," Harry instinctively glanced at his pocket.
Voldemort noticed immediately.
Harry knew he had made a mistake and turned to run—but of course, escape was impossible.
At Voldemort's command, Quirrell cast a silent, wandless spell. With a snap of his fingers, a wall of fire rose up around them. It wasn't as strong as the "Fiendfyre" Snape could conjure, but still more than enough to trap Harry.
"Don't be a fool. If you can live, why risk dying?"
Voldemort had said those very same words to Quirrell before. After possessing him, he used every means to manipulate Quirrell into doing his bidding, until Quirrell finally gave in and obeyed. Voldemort knew his servant was disobedient, often acting on his own—but what choice did he have, when there was no one else to rely on?
Next, Voldemort tried to tempt Harry by promising to resurrect his parents. But Harry, stubborn as ever, refused again and again.
"Kill him!"
Quirrell lunged forward and grabbed Harry by the throat.
"Expelliarmus!"
Hermione burst into the room and hit Quirrell with a spell.
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