Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and under no circumstance do I claim ownership to the series.

Chapter 10: Quirrelmort

A/N: I was going to call this "Weasley Twins Minus One" but I thought that was too sad, and would freak you all out (nobody except Quirrell dies in this chapter!) The next chapter will be up momentarily.

Evanna stepped through the purple flames. Hermione was brilliant. She had figured out that riddle in no time flat. Now, with Hermione safely back through the black flames, Evanna had readied herself to see whoever was trying to steal the Stone.

Quirrell stood in front of the Mirror of Erised, staring at it intently. He might not have noticed Evanna if she hadn't yelled, "I knew it! I knew it was going to be either you or Snape, but nobody believed that there was even an ounce of possibility that it was you, but it was!"

Quirrell spun around to face her, snapping his fingers. At first, Evanna thought he was starting to dance, until ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped tightly around Evanna. She considered hopping towards Quirrell, but knew if she tried, she would fall flat on her face, and that wouldn't be helpful at all.

"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?"

"Me! I did! Me, me, me! Oh, I could dance!" Evanna shrieked, almost forgetting why she was down here and facing Quirrell in the first place. Then, after calming down, she realized, "That means that you were the one jinxing my broom, while Snape was anti-jinxing it! And Snape wasn't threatening you to get the Stone or anything, but to protect it from you! And I was right about you letting the troll in on Halloween, wasn't I?"

Quirrell looked quite irked at Evanna, and said, "Yes, yes, on all counts. Now be a good girl and sit quietly while I examine this mirror."

Evanna gave a large smile. Annoying was something that she could highly excel at. This would be fun. "Oh no, I couldn't possibly be right on all counts. Let me tell you more of my theories. I think that, though Snape seems to hate me, his hatred doesn't extend as far as death, unlike yours. I also think that when I heard you being threatening in that classroom a few days ago, it was Voldemort who was threatening you, not Snape."

"Yes, correct, now just — "

"My only question is, how did he get into the school without being noticed?"

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled 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 . . . 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 . . ."

"So, he's with you now? I don't see him. I think you're a liar. I think that you're not really devoted to old Voldy and — "

Quirrell sighed with irritation and waved his wand. Evanna found that she couldn't speak. This didn't bother her too much. You didn't have to talk to be annoying.

Jumping towards Quirrell, she heard him muttering things to himself. Lunatic, she thought, rolling her eyes, before falling over, the ropes around her tightening slightly. She began to roll around on the floor, and if she had been able to talk, she would've been giggling. She continued rolling and rolling, trying to get closer to the fake professor, but nearly died in shock when something answered one of Quirrell's mutterings.

"Use the girl . . . Use the girl . . ."

Quirrell clapped his hands, and the ropes disappeared. Evanna sat up, stretching, looking as if she had just woken up. Flipping her braid over her shoulder, she looked over at Quirrell.

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

Evanna found no point in running, so she did as she was told. Standing in front of the mirror, she saw what she expected; herself, pale and bloody (how did that happen?). But then, her reflection smiled at her, held up a blood-red stone, winked, and put the stone in her pocket. Evanna felt something heavy suddenly appear in her pocket as this happened, but she put on her poker face. Now that she had the Philosopher's Stone, the reflection changed to her surrounded by her family again.

"What do you see?" Quirrell demanded.

Evanna decided to annoy him a bit more. She moved her lips without speaking, giving Quirrell the pretense that she was still under his silencing spell. He waved his wand, but nothing happened, she just kept moving her lips. Again and again he waved his wand. But Evanna kept going, until she finally stopped pretending to talk and raised an eyebrow at him, hands on her hips, as if to say, "Come on, lift the spell already!" though she knew full well that he already had.

Aggravated, Quirrell grabbed her braid, pulling as hard as he could. She let out a yelp of pain, and Quirrell glared at her.

"Uh, finally lifted the spell! Nice job, Professor!" Evanna said, with a nervous grin.

"What. Did. You. See?" Quirrell asked, slowly and fiercely.

"I saw my parents," Evanna said, knowing that this wasn't a real lie, just a lie by omission.

"She lies . . . She lies . . ." The same high, cold voice as before spoke. It definitely wasn't Evanna, and Quirrell's lips weren't moving. Unless he was the world's greatest ventriloquist, there was someone else within the room.

Quirrell yanked harder still on her hair, actually managing to lift her off her feet. "I won't ask again."

"Ah, maybe not, but you won't kill me either, because the mysterious third party who resides in this room, and speaks only in echos, knows that I hold the key to getting the Philosopher's Stone," Evanna smirked, folding her arms across her chest, ignoring the pain of her hair being tugged off her scalp. "You can hurt me all you want, but what's to say I'll tell you what I saw?"

Mysterious third party spoke again. "Let me speak to her . . . face-to-face . . ."

Quirrell let go of Evanna, who took a few stumbling steps backwards. "Master, you are not strong enough!"

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

Evanna watched in amusement as Quirrell unraveled his turban. But she wasn't amused for long. For as Quirrell turned, his back facing Evanna, she saw, where the back of his head should have been, there was a face. It was a chalk white face, contrasting beautifully with Quirrell's light skin tone, with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

So this was Voldemort.

"Hey Voldy," Evanna said, as coolly as she could muster through her sheer terror, "may I recommend some great skin cream?"

"See what I have become?" the face (which Evanna assumed was Voldemort, considering how Quirrell had talked about him earlier) said. "Mere shadow and vapor . . . 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?"

"Come and make me, why don't you?!" Evanna yelled, trying to sound braver than she felt.

"Don't be a fool," snarled Voldemort. "Better save your own life and join me . . . or you'll meet the same end as your parents . . . 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 . . . Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"You'll kill me whether I give it to you or not," Evanna retorted. "I've made you lose too much for you to care whether I join you or not!"

She took off in a run towards the door of purple flames. She could feel Quirrell's hand close around her wrist. An awful pain seared across her scar, and she struggled against the man with two faces. To her utter surprise, he let go rather quickly. Looking back at him, she understood why.

His hand was blistering away before his eyes. Evanna had no idea what happened, but as Quirrell pinned her to the ground, hands around her neck, his hands began to blister again. He wrenched them away from her neck, staring at the skin, now red and raw. Evanna wasn't sure how she was doing it, but her flesh was making Quirrell's burn away.

Instinctively, she grabbed his face. His howls of pain were terrible. He stumbled backwards, his face blistering, and Evanna knew that to defeat him, she would have to keep contact with his skin. Grabbing his arm, she could faintly hear Voldemort screaming orders at Quirrell over Quirrell's shrieks of agony. Evanna's forehead was filling pain too, so she delivered a swift kick to Quirrell's crotch, before she could faint, as sometimes happened when her scar was tormenting her like a fire blazing throughout her skull. As she had predicted, her body went limp, and the last thing she saw before the blackness was Quirrell, burning away.

Evanna woke with a start, to see her friends surrounding her.

"Evanna!" Hermione wrapped her arms so tightly around Evanna's neck that she almost choked her. "I didn't think you'd wake up so soon; they've just brought you here, you see, and — "

Evanna cut her off. "Where's George?!"

Ron, Hermione, and Fred were crowded around her, but the other Weasley twin was nowhere in sight.

Fred frowned. "I guess he's still outside Quirrell's office . . . I assumed he would already be here, but I guess the news didn't reach him — Vanna! Calm down!"

Evanna had slid out of bed, standing shakily. Fred and Ron tried to push her back into the hospital bed, but Evanna shook her head. "You don't understand! Quirrell was the one! I was right all along for suspecting him, and George was standing guard outside of his office! Do you see where I'm going with this?!"

Fred's face had gone as pale as Evanna's (and she was quite pale) as he realized what she meant. Evanna tugged on his arm, saying, "We have to go find him! He might be totally fine, but I'm not taking the risk of just assuming so! We're the only ones who know where he is! Ron, Hermione, would you two cover for me if Madam Pomfrey comes back? We need to find George!"

The two ran down several flights of stairs, and Fred became furious at the first staircase that moved when they needed it. Nobody seemed to be around, so Evanna presumed that it was either still very late at night or very early in the morning. Finally, after Fred threatened to smash a portrait for asking where they were headed, they had reached Quirrell's office where they saw a horrible sight.

George was unconscious on the floor with a pool of blood by his head.

"NO!" Both redheads screamed, diving towards him.

Grabbing his hand in her own, Evanna whispered, "Wake up, George, please wake up." Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes, and she could see Fred was already crying, tears rolling down his freckled cheeks.

"We need to get him up to Madam Pomfrey," Evanna choked out.

Fred shook his head. "He's bleeding! It would be dangerous for us to move him. We should get a teacher to move him for us. Besides, we wouldn't be able to lift him on our own." Then Fred gave her a panicked look. "How are we going to get a teacher over here?!"

"Cover your ears," Evanna instructed. Fred, too worried to argue, did as he was told.

Evanna let out a long shriek. Her voice reverberated throughout the corridors, and Fred could still hear it clearly through his hands. Carefully removed his hands from his ears, he muttered, "Merlin, you've got a pair of lungs on you." Evanna offered him a sugary smile, which he rolled his eyes at.

Then the two sat in silent worry next to the unconscious Weasley, waiting with a horrible feeling of uneasiness. Just as Evanna was about to scream again, with the fear that no one had heard her first one, Professor McGonagall hurried around the corner, with Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape following close behind. They stared in shock at the three students, one of them unconscious, the other two looking up at the teachers with imploring, tear-filled eyes.

Snape bent down next to George, muttering a spell under his breath, and the blood vanished from the floor. Flitwick used the 'Wingardium Leviosa' spell to lift George in the air, ready to transport him to the Hospital Wing. McGonagall began to question Evanna and Fred, who were too frightened to object.

"So, George — " she began, but was cut off but a mournful whisper, that made Evanna want to cry again.

"I'm Fred."

Evanna put a soothing hand on the conscious twin's shoulder, watching him furiously wipe away his tears. He looked like something inside him had broken.

"I'm very sorry," Professor McGonagall breathed. "How did this happen?"

"This is all my fault, Professor!" Evanna cried, trying to keep the tears from her voice. "He was only down here to watch Quirrell because — "

"Don't you dare say it was your fault!" Fred snapped. "It wasn't! It was our choice! And besides, neither of us believed you when you said Quirrell was dangerous, so George probably let his guard down — "

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "We should get you back to the Hospital Wing, Miss Potter. You better accompany her, Mister Weasley. I'm assuming you would like to stay by your twin's side."

Fred nodded solemnly, and the two set off, back up to the Hospital Wing.

A/N: I'M SORRY OH MY GOSH I'M SO MEAN! :'( But you know, I was planning this for a while, and I think it's great suspense and stuff . . . No killing me please!

Please review (even if you're just going to yell at me for hurting George) ~Jayce