Willow didn't know how she managed to pull herself together enough to sleep and study for the next week. Her wound was constantly bothering her, and she would have called it a pain in the butt except that it was a pain in her back. She wished she could bring herself to tell that joke but realized she couldn't afford to stress her friends out more than she already had. Plus, they would get angry over the rest of the story, which included her saving Draco. It wouldn't even cross their mind that Draco might have saved Willow's life in return. With their bias against him- warranted as it might be- they'd more likely think along the lines that Draco at least owed her that for saving his life.

Her last study session of the term with her friends was rather bittersweet. They went over all their notes one last time, then told stories and reminisced the fun times they'd had together that year, the different ways they all met, how they came together as a single group, and the interesting things they had learned about each other along the way. Sue had actually started crying, thanking Willow for being the one to bring her out of that rough spot in her life. Willow couldn't stop blushing, insisting that it was all her, that only Sue could have changed Sue's mind. Still, Sue hugged her to death and invited her to stop by over the summer. Her parents had agreed that it would be okay.

In her classes, Willow pretty much raced Hermione to get things done, trying to make the mountains of homework more bearable. Her last Potions class with Draco was rather interesting. It was the first class of the morning on their last regular day of the term. Draco was abnormally talkative, whereas he usually concentrated on brewing the potion. He refused to let Willow get away with her attempts to ignore him.

"Wisp, come on, stop ignoring me!" he hissed at her. "This is important!"

"What!" Willow finally snapped.

"It's about Quirrel. He's been acting really funny lately."

Willow froze, then relaxed, remembering that Draco had not nearly the knowledge she did about his dark intentions. "What has he been doing? He acts funny all the time."

"I know, but his stutter is the worst it's ever been. He can barely string one sentence together. I can't understand anything he says anymore. That, and I keep catching him looking at me weird."

"I think he's trying to tell you to change your hairstyle."

"Wisp, this is serious. There's something wrong with him."

"Not really, because he's been doing that to me, too."

"Everyone stares at you, Willow. Honestly, haven't you noticed?"

Willow stared at him, confused. "No, I haven't noticed at all, actually. That's kind of creepy. Who stares at me, and why would they in the first place?"

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Duh, most of the guys. They like you because of how smart you are."

"Then why don't they stare at Hermione?"

"Because-" Draco paused, as if letting himself say something he shouldn't. "Because Hermione is not nearly as pretty as you. And before you say anything, no, I do not fancy you, or anyone else. I'm quoting the idiots I hear in the halls."

"Great. Come third year and I'll have to deal with that," Willow grumbled.

"Trust me, if you can deal with me, you can easily take care of them. It may be just me, but I'm pretty sure I speak for every guy when I say that I don't like being punched in the face."

Willow snorted. "That's true. I can take care of myself."

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Guerrero, back to work," Snape said, suddenly appearing behind them.

Willow and Draco silenced themselves until Snape was on the other side of the room, then picked up their conversation were they left off.

"If you ask me, I'll be glad to redirect the attention away from other girls who either aren't interested in guys or need to pay more attention to their studies than the cute guys. I can handle it."

"Speaking of handling things, can I slap you now?"

"You have to be the most selfish person I've ever met," Willow huffed. "The most self-important jerk in all of Hogwarts. Not, 'How's your back healing?' or 'Is your wound healing well?' Nope. For you, it's, 'When can I pester you again?' What else did I expect, though?"

"Nothing more, nothing less. You know that's my style of communication."

"I do get what you mean. Sadly, I can only translate it and imagine that that's what you meant. To answer your question, no, it's just finished scabbing over. I'll need a while for it to fully heal. The stupid spell cut really deep."

"I still can't believe that could have been me," Draco said, his face paling.

"How you always think of yourself first, I don't know," Willow said. "But I still can't believe it either."

"Can't you heal yourself?"

"No. Do you remember anything I told you when I explained it a few days ago?"

"Not really. I only remember the important stuff."

"That gives me a whole lot of hope."

"Mr. Malfoy, if you do not wish to receive yet another detention, I suggest you get to work," Snape said.

Willow and Draco fell silent again. Draco glared at her, earning a mock-innocent grin from Willow, and they went back to doing their work, realizing how much they still had to get done.

The rest of the day was a blur to Willow. She went to bed with nightmares, waking up nearly every hour. Their exams were the next morning. Of course she couldn't get adequate sleep. Her bad luck wouldn't allow her the luxury of resting easy the night before her Charms exam. She would have trouble enough as it was with proper sleep, let alone with almost none. Willow dragged herself out of bed when the morning finally came, wondering if that was how Paige felt every day before noon. Now she understood.

Willow was dragged along to Charms by a nervous Oliver, who absolutely wouldn't allow Willow to fall asleep when he needed her most. He did a good job of saying things that kept her on her toes and awake. She groggily recited incantations, wand movements, and what each charm was used for. By the time they got to class, Willow was three-quarters of the way to being awake.

"Willow, seriously, I thought you loved mornings," Oliver remarked.

"I didn't sleep but a total of four hours last night," Willow explained. "None of that was peaceful, either. Stupid nightmares..."

"Hey, that happens to me sometimes, too."

"It doesn't help that I've got to face Quirrel on Friday..." Willow trailed off, not able to stop herself in time.

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked, quite confused.

Willow's eyes widened. "Uh- nothing- just something- I don't-"

"Have- have you been hiding something from me, Willow?" Oliver whispered.

The two were seated in their usual corner of the classroom, waiting to be called for their practical exam. Oliver's green eyes flickered with concern.

"I- oh, nevermind, I can't hide this from everyone," Willow said. "Oliver, there's something going on that I've figured out. You can't tell anyone, not the students, not the professors, not our friends, not even Dumbledore. Promise?"

Oliver nodded quickly, his curiosity running wild. Willow drew in another breath.

"Quirrel is not who he seems. When I went into the Forbidden Forest the other night, he attacked me. I've been trying to hide the wound, but nothing seems to get past you."

Oliver smiled. "I can usually tell when something's up."

"Well, you were right. Now, the next thing I'm going to tell you is very tricky to wrap your head around. Don't laugh at me. I'm telling the truth. You know who Voldemort is, right?" Oliver nodded. "Um, you see, Voldemort was never truly murdered. He's alive, but weak, and has to use unnatural methods to use his power. So he...he's chosen to coexist with Quirrel by living underneath his turban."

Oliver blinked. "Say what now?"

"The reason Professor Quirrel wears that giant turban all the time is to hide Voldemort's face. Voldemort literally lives on the back of Quirrel's head! That's why Quirrel is so jumpy all the time. That's why he stutters."

Oliver paused, letting this information process, then surprisingly cracked a smile. "You made a pun by saying it's tricky to wrap your head around."

Willow's jaw dropped. "I tell you ground-breaking information that could affect the fate of this school, and that's how you respond? By pointing out a bad pun I made?"

"Trust me, I've heard crazier," Oliver said, shyly smiling. His expression returned to being serious once more. "So...what are you going to do with this information, if you're so sure that it's correct?"

Willow pursed her lips, tapping her foot. She hadn't thought of that. "Well...I haven't gotten that far. I'm still in shock myself about it, even though I've been suspicious of him ever since he's been staring at me weird in class..."

"What?"

"Nevermind that," Willow said, realizing her only option. "I guess I'm going to confront him about it."

"Excuse me? You're going to confront a teacher that nearly killed you? What do you expect him to say? Oh, good job, Willow! You figured out the mystery! Here's your prize! It's too dangerous, Willow. What if he tries to murder you again? You could die!"

Willow sighed. "I know the risk, Oliver. But I don't have another option. If I tell a teacher, they'll never believe me. Dumbledore would definitely never believe me, and if this leaked into the ears of other students, Quirrel could catch wind, and..."

Willow cut herself off. She had told Oliver about one secret. No need to reveal the Sorcerer's Stone or her powers.

"I get it. But still, you shouldn't do anything. If Quirrel hasn't done anything yet, that probably means he's too much of a coward to do anything else. Don't do it, Willow."

Willow wanted to scream, He's taking the Stone and using it to bring back Voldemort! But she didn't. Instead, she contented herself to rub her temples and try to work through everything once more.

"I have to, Oliver. If no one else will, then it has to be me."

Tears rimmed Oliver's eyes. "Please, Willow. There are loads of things he could do to you. It's a full grown Dark Arts teacher against a first year. If something happens to you, or you die, I...I..."

Willow's heart broke into several pieces. "Oliver, there's no changing my mind."

The boy sat back, defeated, in a crumpled heap. His voice quavered. "I know, and I'm not going to try and stop you. But do me a favor and stay safe. Don't tell the other this, but you're my best friend. You've helped me through a lot more than you know."

Through the tears spilling out of Oliver's eyes, Willow glimpsed the emerald green irises of a boy who was more broken than she had ever thought to believe. He had obviously been through so many unspeakable things that it had nearly muted him. But she had somehow taught him to speak again, carried him to safety. How had she done that? Since when was she the healer of broken souls?"

"Oliver, I promise I'll come back," Willow said with certainty. He was right. She couldn't leave him. There were too many people that counted on her, too many people that might not make it without her to guide them. She had to return.

Oliver gently wrapped his arms around Willow and collapsed into her, his tears soaking her shirt. "Please, Willow. I can't live without you in my life. No matter how much trouble you get into, you always come back. If you suddenly didn't make it, didn't come back from one of your crazy adventures...I don't know what I'd do with myself. You have to survive. Save yourself at all costs. Please, not just for me, but for all of us. There's a lot more people that look up to you than will admit it."

Willow pulled back, looking into Oliver's eyes, swimming with emotions. She found herself having to swallow a lump in her throat. "I'll come back, Oliver, I promise."

Willow managed to pass her practical exams despite her exhaustion. Oliver used his uncannily extraordinary ability to clean himself up and pretend that he wasn't worried out of his mind for Willow. He didn't act like she was dying or already dead. She had a few things to talk about with him if she got back.

Not if, when.

She had to come back. She'd already promised that. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Willow thought that she had done well on her written exams, too. The Charms and Transfiguration written exams were easy- to her, at least- and Potions hadn't been awful. While most of the other kids were terrified of Snape breathing down their necks the whole time, it didn't affect Willow. She performed better under stress. In fact, she was beginning to think that she wouldn't have done well at all remembering the ingredients to all those potions had Snape not been haunting her. Or maybe it was just that she had been the one to gather and prepare the ingredients all year. Either way, she thought she had succeeded.

There were only two exams left: Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology, and unfortunately, in that order. Willow's plan was to confront Quirrel immediately after all the other students left. She hoped that she wouldn't have to make up her Herbology exam because of the confrontation, but she had a horrible feeling that she would. Sometimes she wished her gut wasn't right all the time.

The morning of, Willow woke up in cold sweat, having had continuous nightmares the whole night, jumping from her mum to Quirrel and back again. She wished they would leave her alone. It was getting to the point where she was afraid to sleep, dreading what images would imprint themselves upon her eyes and refused to be removed. Willow held her wand close at all times.

The sunrise was beautiful that morning, as if taunting her, telling her to soak it all up, because it was the last one she'd ever see. She knew that it wasn't, but everything was getting to her. Everything was messing with her mind. She was afraid to stay alone anywhere in case Quirrel showed up. What if he attacked her? If they were alone, would she panic and do something stupid instead of defend herself?

Willow shook her head to clear it, not that that was possible. She needed to throw the what-ifs out the window. When the time came, she had to be ready to defend herself. She went over all the spells that she had been taught. None of them seemed like they'd be any use, except maybe the Full Body-Bind Curse. Not that she would be able to cast it strong enough to hold Quirrel. For Merlin's sake, he had one of the most powerful Dark Wizards living on the back of his head. That had to make his magic stronger.

Breakfast came and went, and there was only about an hour before her exam started. Her gut twisted at the thought of how close the time was speeding towards her. She was downright terrified, but there was no other way. If she was going to stop Quirrel, she had to confront him. Now. As soon as possible. She had to run towards the danger if she was to stop it. For Harry. For her friends. For everyone in the wizarding world.
Speaking of Harry, the boy was so consumed in his own thoughts as he walked along that he ran right into Willow. They both crashed to the floor, blinking.

"Willow! Sorry, didn't see you there," Harry apologized, helping her up.

"Caught up in your thoughts, are you? Willow asked. "I am too, don't worry."

"Yeah, with exams and studying on top of...you know, the thing we can't talk about here," Harry said, catching himself and gesturing to all the students around them. "Let's find somewhere outside. It's much too nice out."

"Agreed."

Willow and Harry found a shady spot under a small willow tree next to the lake. They were hidden from sight for the most part, and they could see through the leaves to know if someone was coming. Harry nervously ran his hand through his hair.

"I know what's bothering you, Harry, but if you want, telling it to me out loud usually helps," Willow offered. "I'm told I'm a pretty good listener."

"You are." Harry cleared his throat. "Well, I can't stop having nightmares about Voldemort. You don't mind me saying his name, do you? Good, Ron minds quite a bit, which is rubbish if you ask me, but anyway, I'm struggling to get through these exams when I'm half expecting Voldemort to come crashing through the wall. I've been scared before, but now I'm downright terrified."

"I completely understand. For some reason, my nightmares have been worse, too. It's awful. I can barely sleep. Lucky for me, though, I somehow remembered the majority of what we learned this year."

"You're so lucky you're smart," Harry groaned. "I had to relearn nearly everything and I pay attention! It's giving me a headache. But that might be my scar- it's been itching and burning a lot since that figure attacked me in the Forbidden Forest."

Willow sucked in a breath. "Harry...do you recall anything about it, anything at all, except for the fact that it had a black cloak on?"

"No, nothing. My scar hurt so bad that I couldn't see anything through the pain. One moment, the cloaked figure is attacking me, the next, a centaur is standing in front of me."

"Strange," Willow murmured.

"Did you?"

"No," Willow lied. She had one confident. That was all she needed. Harry had enough trouble brewing in his mind. It was better to let him continue with life at school and suspect Snape than get involved.

"I just can't believe that Hagrid was right, that Voldemort never died. How could that happen? I thought that when the curse rebounded, it would have killed him. Apparently, it didn't, and now he's after immortality and me."

"If it's any consolation, I have to deal with avoiding my mum now, since she's decided that she likes to kidnap me."

"As sickening as it is, it does make me feel better to know that I'm not the only one. What's that you're wearing? Oh, wait, that's what your mum gave you for Christmas, right? That locket?"

Willow touched the locket. "Yeah, it is. I don't wear it often. Why I would wear it today of all days, I have no idea."

"Maybe to give you courage to face the exams?"

More like courage to face a dark wizard. "Maybe. I guess that would make sense. My subconscious mind has a way of playing tricks and poking fun at me, then pulling something like this. I'm tired of it."

"If you ask me, I'm simply tired in general," Harry chuckled. "All this studying is wearing me out."

"Being outside around midday during the summer makes me sleepy. I usually wake up super early, get several things done, then take a nap through the hottest part of the day, and stay up until around an hour after the sun sets. It's a weird internal clock that my dad's side of the family has passed down."

"I wish I could do that, but I'm definitely not a morning person. That's due in part to the Dursleys forcing me to get up and make them breakfast every morning."

"I'm sure."

"That's another thing that has been weighing on my mind," Harry admitted. "I don't want to go back to the Dursleys. Dudley's going to be even more horrible to me now that I've been away for so long. He probably misses bullying me. Hogwarts is more my home than Number 4 Private Drive ever was; is there absolutely no way for me to stay?"

"I'm afraid not," Willow sighed. "If you can, I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind you visiting. I'm more likely to visit you, though, seeing how strict your aunt and uncle are. Do you think they'll drive me off their property?"

"Yes, unless you sneak in."

"Perfect. I should be able to shape-shift fast enough if anything happens."

"If you could visit me, that would be fantastic," Harry said. "Don't feel like you have to, though. I've survived alone with them this long. Even without magic, I'm sure I could survive the summer."

"Seriously, Harry, if you ever need anything, send Hedwig," Willow said. "If you don't send anything to me, I'm coming to rescue you."

Harry laughed. "I highly doubt that will be necessary, but thanks for the offer."

A light breeze floated through the willow tree, swaying its long, flexible branches. The sound of rustling leaves melted Willow's ears. Most natural sounds had that kind of affect on her. She was always able to find peace in reuniting herself with nature. Willow leaned back against the trunk, closing her eyes. A few birds sang their distinctive songs only a few meters above her head. She couldn't think of a better way to relax before her big day. Apparently, Harry couldn't, either, because he laid his head on Willow's lap and stared at the sky through the branches.

"It really is extra beautiful today," Harry commented. "There's only a few clouds in the sky, and it's not horribly humid."

"That sounds like my kind of day," Willow said.

"Even the Forbidden Forest doesn't look so bad. It actually looks like a normal, non-life-threatening forest that one could enjoy hiking in. I'm sure you'd know where all the trails are, wouldn't you, Willow?"

"Yep. Hagrid taught me a lot when I took over his gamekeeping duties."

"Not just then, but all the other times you've been in there. Don't try to cover it up, I know that you've been in there at least fifteen times. You must know every creature by name at this point."

"No, actually. But you're right, I've been in there many more times than I should have gotten away with. I think all my luck has concentrated itself on allowing me to visit the forest."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good, actually. It means that you're not afraid of it, unlike most of the school. So if anything ever goes wrong in there, you can help Hagrid, and if someone goes in there for detention again, you can make sure they make it out. By the way, I never saw you until the end of our detention. Were you following us the whole time?"

"Yeah, but I was mainly keeping an eye on Draco. I trusted Hagrid to take care of you guys. I did not trust Draco Malfoy to be alone with Neville or you, and besides, Hagrid was right, Fang really is a coward."

"Were you not scared at all? Don't you know what's in the Forest at night?"

"Well, as you already know, I'm terrified of the dark, but the Forbidden Forest has never scared me. I think it's because I don't know what kinds of nocturnal creatures live in the Forest that I'm not afraid of it."

"Then I won't tell you what I know."

"Good. I don't want to know."

Harry let out a laugh. "You're ridiculous sometimes, you know that?"

"I do know that, and much more, actually."

Harry and Willow let out contented sighs, enjoying the summer warmth and the privacy of the willow tree. Eventually, Harry spoke again, interrupting the beautiful silence.

"This whole situation is a pun. I just realized that we're sitting under a willow tree, and your name is Willow, so it's situational irony."

"Really? You had to ruin the moment with Muggle English?" Willow chuckled.

"Yes, it was completely necessary."

"I will never understand how your mind works."

"Same here, Willow," Harry said. The boy sat up, stretching his now relaxed muscles. "Thanks for letting me unload on you, Willow. It's nice to know I've got one friend that understands what I'm going through. I wish you didn't have to, though. It's kind of awful, actually."

Willow stood up, helping Harry to his feet, too. "Harry, I've been through a lot worse. Being here for you is the least I could do."

Harry smiled. "Let's get back up to the castle. We have yet another exam to tackle."

"Race you!" Willow suddenly shouted, sprinting away from the tree.

"Hey, that's an unfair head start!" Harry called after her.

It was a close tie between the two, who got told off by a passing Madam Pomfrey to slow down before they hurt someone, they'd had enough visits to the hospital wing that year. Willow was in a playful mood and decided to send a hex Ginny taught her the past summer her way. Tiny little bats chased her all the way down the corridor and into the next. Willow and Harry couldn't stop laughing as they fled the scene. By the time they reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, their spirits had been lifted enough that they could focus on their exams instead of their worries.

When the exam started, silence fell. Quirrel sat at his desk in the front of the classroom, grading other papers and ultimately ignoring the students. Willow almost forgot about him and her mission at the halfway point. She felt that she was acing the exam with no problem.

Hermione and she finished at the same time, racing to turn their papers in. Willow slammed her exam on the desk a millisecond before Hermione did. They struggled to hold in their giggling when Quirrel threw his papers everywhere, startled at their sudden movement. Eventually, they gave up, and the whole class burst out in laughter. Poor Quirrel miserably gathered his papers and started grading them again, his lip trembling. Willow completely dismissed it. She felt that he deserved a good round of public humiliation, especially if it would give her an advantage in the coming hour when she faced him.

"Hey, Willow, quick, what's the answer to this question?" Sally hissed, pointing to a question.

"Sally, you know I don't fall for cheating that easily," Willow reminded her.

"Pretty please?" Sally said, giving her the puppy eyes. Willow tried to resist, but failed.

"Good God, you get me with those eyes every time! You a Sam both! It's the second answer."

"Guys! We all got thirteen wrong. It's the second answer, not the third," Sally whispered to the Gryffindor girls around her.

"I knew it!" Parvati exclaimed.

"Thank you, Willow!" Fay whisper-shouted.

The room eventually fell silent again, and Willow was told off several times for tapping her foot incessantly. She couldn't help it. As the atmosphere dropped to a studious, serious, stressed one, Willow's worries about facing Quirrel returned. What was she going to say? Was she going to appear innocent, then suddenly apprehend him? No, she needed more information first. Anything extra was a risk worth taking. Would she instantly say something about the attack on her? Or should she not say anything to provoke him at all? What should she do if he attacked her?

Calm down, seriously, you're going to psych yourself out, Willow scolded herself. Just keep it simple. Go with whatever comes out of your mouth first, and continue from there. He'll see right through a pre-planned speech.

One by one, the students finished their exams and turned them in. Willow's heart beat quicker with each exam being finished; the time was so close, she could almost feel the clock's hands moving towards their final minute. The last kid turned their exam in. They sat down, glanced once around the room, and the bell rang. It was as if someone had set off an alarm in Willow's head. She jumped, hitting her knee hard on the desk. Why was she so on edge? Lavender gave her a quizzical glanced when she stayed seated. Willow waved her off, mouthing that she would be out in a minute. Lavender left, accepting the lie without question, leaving Willow alone with Professor Quirrel. Her ears thrummed with each heartbeat. This was it. This was her chance. It was all or nothing.

God help me.

Willow slowly rose, stepped clear from her desk, and proceeded down the aisle on shaky legs. She finally stopped, almost tripping herself, directly in front of Quirrel's desk. He looked up from his papers after a moment.

"D-do you need s-something, Willow?" he stuttered.

"Yes, actually," Willow said, feeling sweat trickle down her neck. "I was wondering if you could tell me something."

"And w-what would t-that be?"

Here it was. Her moment to ask the question that would make or break the situation. Only one sentence would form in her head, and before she could stop it, her tongue let it slip out.

"Were you trying to silence Draco when you attacked him the other night?"

"Stupefy!"

Willow's reflexes saved her in the nick of time. She had been right to think Quirrel would be quick with the wand. Rolling away from the desk, Willow got to her feet, wand out, pointed at Quirrel.

"Expelliarmus!"

Willow ducked in time to see a red jet of light zip past the spot where her wand had been only a second before. So far, so good. Quirrel wasn't trying to kill her. Yet.

"I always knew you would figure it out, you nosy Gryffindor!" Quirrel shouted. "You were always meddling in everything, just like those filthy friends of yours! The only difference is that you're smarter and have enough wit to figure it out sooner!"

He fired another spell, and Willow dodged it yet again, landing on a group of desks.

"I thought that putting two trolls in the castle might distract the teachers enough, but of course not! Stupid Severus figured me out right away! Then you kill one of them! How did you do it? You, an air-headed little girl with your head in the clouds. How?"

"Thank you for the compliments, but I'm not going to answer that," Willow said.

That was the wrong thing to say. Quirrel fired a series of spells in her direction, the last of which nicked Willow on her back, which exploded in pain, sending ripples of it through her wound. Willow gave a muffled cry as she tried to contain it.

"That stupid boy Draco should have died! It's a shame a dragon saved him. Funny, though, because dragons haven't been known to save people. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Willow? Weren't you simply a bystander to all of this?"

Willow's blood ran cold. Did he suspect her of being a shape-shifter? Did he know that she had powers? No, he couldn't. She wouldn't let him know. There had to be another way to lead him in the wrong direction.

"Of course I was a bystander!" Willow shouted. "I was petrified, like you are after that thing on the back of your head yells at you!"

"How dare you insult the Dark Lord!" Quirrel growled, firing another spell at Willow.

"Why don't you call him by his name?" Willow taunted. "Are you too afraid of your master to call him Voldemort?"

"Don't say his name!"

Willow levitated a chair and threw it at Quirrel. It was a clumsy, slow attempt that he easily side-stepped.

"If you were simply a bystander to the whole thing, then why do you have a wound on your back that matches the spell I cast?" Quirrel asked.

"Because there are far more powerful things than you that I've faced, you lousy git!" Willow lied, casting a hex.

Quirrel advanced on Willow. "I know that you've figured out everything. You know that the Dark Lord coexists with me. I consider it a great honor. But yet you insult me, and in turn insult the Dark Lord! Where do you find this courage? You are weak, and I can prove it to you!"

Willow darted out of the way of a spell, then another. She quickly stood up and flicked her wand at Quirrel, crying, "Petrificus Totalus!"

The spell missed by an inch. Left completely exposed, Willow was unable to escape the wrath of Quirrel's wand. He pointed it at her, said, "Stupefy!" and blue sparks hit Willow full-force in her chest. She flew backwards, hitting the wall hard enough to break open a cabinet. Willow's back stung so much that she thought it must have reopened the scab, too. Her brain foggy from the stunning spell, Willow tightened her grip around her wand, hoping that she could hold out a little longer.

"What did you think you were going to do with me?" Quirrel taunted, hurtling a curse at her. "Turn me into Dumbledore? Great plan. He'd never believe you. Win against me in a duel? Please. This is where you learn the greatest lesson of all, Willow. Listen closely: the Dark Lord always wins. Always."

Willow hid behind a pile of rubble, watching Quirrel's feet get closer and closer.

"You cannot hide. He was powerful before. Wait until you see him again, restored to all his glory. I, his noble servant, will rest at his right hand, handsomely rewarded for my deeds. What are you fighting for, Willow? Good? You don't know what you're up against. The Dark Lord will never accept you with your miserable heart. You care for the weak and defenseless. It is better to let them die. Why do you pit yourself against us? You dedicate yourself to protecting others. For once, you could bring your family together, protect your blood from being spoiled. Don't you want that peace of mind?"

"Never!" Willow cried, jumping from behind the cabinet. Without warning, a spell shot out of her wand, sending Quirrel flying. He hit the opposite wall with a sickening thud, crumpling to the ground. Willow stared at her wand in shock.

What just happened?

Your wand is of willow wood. It serves well for non-verbal magic.

What the heck is that?

Magic that does not require speech to cast a spell. You say the words in your head, and it happens.

What! So I just cast a stunning spell without saying anything?

Yes- with my help. Now pay attention! This battle isn't over!

Willow saw Quirrel staggering to his feet, looking emaciated and bloodthirsty as ever. He pointed his wand at Willow.

"You will respect the Dark Lord and join him, or die with the rest of your family!" Quirrel screamed.

"I will never respect a person that has no respect for others!" Willow shouted.

"Then you and your family will die by his hands! Avada Kedavra!"

Willow yelped and barely evaded the instant death that crashed into a wall behind her. Quirrel's wand exploded with several different jets of light that lit up the room in a rainbow of colors- oddly optimistic for such an intense situation. Willow crouched down behind a desk, every once in a while peeking around to fire a leg-locker curse at Quirrel. She was running out of options, and fast.

"Give up already!" Quirrel commanded. "You're outmatched! Let go, Willow. You won't have to deal with the world anymore. Just let your problems go, give into the darkness. No more fighting, no more kidnappings-"

"How do you know about that?" Willow snapped.

"Your mother is a such a pleasure to have as a friend," Quirrel said nastily. "She's been helping me all along, you see. She can't stand you anymore. Grace hates you and your father and the rest of your family. You're all blinded by your commitments to helping others."

"I don't believe you!" Willow shrieked, anger bubbling to the surface. She took a deep breath, calming herself. If she let Quirrel get the best of her by mere words, she'd be in a lot of trouble, so deep in in, actually, that she might not make it out of this situation.

"Oh, but it's the truth. I tried to stop her from passing on that locket you're wearing. Grace wouldn't listen, of course. She was in a such a state of mind- it needs eradicating. Now that she's better, she wants that locket back, you see. And you're going to give it to me, or I'll have to take it!"

"She's not better!" Willow shouted. "My mum isn't who she used to be. She's become one of you. I won't stand for it. I'm the heir to this locket, and I have no plans to give it up! I will correct the path that its taking and continue its legacy along a new path, one of pure-hearted, good people, whether it's purebloods, half-bloods, Muggleborns, or even squibs! I don't care! I will never be on Voldemort's side!"

"You have declared yourself an enemy, then, stupid girl! Say goodbye to your life- and your mother!"

Willow leaped on top of a pile of rubble, outmaneuvering Quirrel's spells. "I'm not saying goodbye to anything! My mother will come back one day, you'll see! I will never stop hoping for it! There's some good left it her, and I will bring it back or die trying!"

"You silly little girl, don't you understand? Don't you know what your mother's done, what she's seen? She's not coming back. She will always stand by her family. Like I said, the Dark Lord always wins!"

"I won't let that happen!"

'You'll do what I tell you to do! Imperio!"

Willow tried to jump out of the way, but as she pushed off, her foot got caught on a chunk of stone. She fell hard on her rear. Her heart leaped into her throat. Her stomach caved in with fear. There was nothing she could do. She was stuck, waiting for the spell to hit her, to take over her body. It was over. She had lost.

When the spell slammed into her, Willow could barely feel it. It was like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head and woken her up from a dead sleep. She couldn't hear anything but Quirrel's voice in her head.

Drop your wand. Stand over here.

Willow did as she was told, not thinking twice. She opened her sweaty hands and let her wand clatter to the floor, like a dead stick. She removed her feet from the rubble and moved to stand where Quirrel was pointing. Her conscious mind was completely gone. All of her attention was focused on receiving the next command, and no matter how horrible it was, no matter what she was told to do, she was going to do it, and do it exactly as she was told.

Follow me.

Willow walked right behind Quirrel as he guided her to a side room connected to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Quirrel lead her inside, a crooked smirk on his face, and pointed to the opposite wall.

Sit over there. Wait patiently.

Willow went to the wall, turned to face Quirrel, and sank to the floor. She waited without fear, without remorse, without any emotion at all. Her face was perfectly neutral, the only clue that she was in a trance at all.

Lift your arms.

Willow followed the command, lifting them while Quirrel moved something around her arms. The clinking of chains penetrated her eardrums, nearly making her jump, but she returned to her calm state within seconds. Her stomach was unsettled, though, and twisted as if something were wrong. A confused expression then clouded Willow's face. Quirrel stepped back, noticed, and cast the spell again. Willow forgot whatever was troubling her and stared back at Quirrel.

What happened the night I hurt you in the Forbidden Forest?

The truth easily slid past Willow's lips without a second thought. "I turned into a dragon to protect Draco."

Good, very good. What happened to you after that?

"I transformed back into myself and had Draco patch up my wound."

Willow's brow furrowed in confusion. Something was tickling the back of her mind. What was it? Was it the thing she had been thinking about a few minutes ago? There was too much fog in her brain, too many cobwebs blocking her thinking. The only thing she could know for sure was that something felt wrong.

Can you transform into a dragon all the time?

"Yes," Willow answered.

Now something felt really wrong. All of a sudden, she knew what it was: no one was allowed to know about her powers. She had powers. She could shape-shift. Quirrel wasn't allowed to know.

Are you an animagus?

Willow's body trembled as she resisted the urge to spill the truth. She couldn't remember anything except that she had powers, and that Quirrel wasn't allowed to know. Why was he provoking her to tell him so badly? He shouldn't have a clue.

I said, are you an animagus?

"G-go away," Willow spluttered. "Y-you can't know."

"Can't know what?"

Quirrel's voice came from outside her head now. Her ears regained their senses again. A few things floated back into her brain, but she still felt fuzzy, as if the memories had been tampered with.

"Can't know what, Willow?"

"You aren't allowed to know," she repeated.

"Why am I not allowed to know?"

Willow grimaced. Everything came flooding back at once, hurting her head. She felt like a massive headache that should have lasted three hours came and went within the space of one second, leaving her dizzy, hurting, and alone.

"Because my mum and dad said so."

"What did they say I'm not allowed to know?"

Willow's eyes widened. Her mother's screaming came back to her, and she wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. She felt to cool metal of the locket clearly against her skin. Her mother was good. She was being very bad right now, but that didn't mean she needed to reveal her secrets. They shared quite a few secrets, some that Grace would never tell anyone, no matter how evil she turned. Willow gritted her teeth to fight the curse that was compelling her to tell the truth.

"Things," Willow said.

"What things?" Quirrel demanded, now getting impatient.

The entire situation came back to Willow. Quirrel was trying to get information out of her. She couldn't let him. He was not allowed to know anything, especially not her family secret. Maybe she could mislead him, make him think other things that were untrue. She had to make him think she was still in a trance. It had to work.

"I'm an animagus," Willow admitted.

"You- you're an animagus? At age eleven?"

"Yes, my animagus is a dragon."

Quirrel stared at her, suspicious, yet completely baffled. Willow returned it with the same blank face she had mastered and used so many times over, pretending the Imperius Curse was still working. "You must be a powerful witch, then. Do you have any other talents?"

"I play soccer."

Quirrel wrinkled his nose in disgust. "You have Muggle talents? That's rubbish. You are weak, untalented. You'll never become the witch you're striving to be. You and that Granger girl both. You're a traitor to your bloodline. You belong with that those Weasley scumbags."

"At least I belong with someone. You belong to someone!" Willow retorted. Her eyes widened, realizing it was too late to take back her words. She had blown her cover. Quirrel pointed his wand inches away from her nose, outraged beyond comprehension.

"You'll pay for deceiving me. You spill not secrets, but lies! How are you so strong against the Imperius Curse? Have you seen it before? Of course you haven't, you would have reacted with less surprise. It's a shame that I'll have to kill you instead."

"Enough with this nonsense!" a voice hissed. "Don't kill the girl yet, Quirrel."

"M-master!" Quirrel squeaked in surprise, now stiff as a board. "I was only joking, as you know."

"We need information. Get to the point, ask her what we discussed! Force her if you must!"

"Y-yes, master." Quirrel turned to Willow. "If you won't give me the information I desire, then I guess I'll have to take it from you. I will give you one last chance to tell me anything I need to know."

"Hmm...let me think..." Willow thought. Might as well let the sass out. "You're an incredibly weak wizard that relies on the commands of a frail, power-seeking coward- Voldemort, yes, that's his name- and you've dedicated your life to a path that will only lead to ruin."

"How dare you- "

"Look into her mind!" Voldemort hissed. "Get the information we need!"

Willow's eyes widened when she realized what Voldemort was requesting Quirrel do. He was about to invade the ultimate privacy she had left- the deep, dark spaces of her mind where she stored her most venerable of secrets and memories. She had always been successful in keeping people out of it. Now, Quirrel was going to break in. Willow struggled against her chains, desperately trying to free herself.

"Legillimens!"

Willow felt the change the moment the spell hit her. She closed her eyes and saw the memories Quirrel was sorting through, taking and discarding as he pleased. Panic seized Willow. What if he saw the memories? What if he discovered her powers?

No, she had to clear her mind. Empty it. Maybe that would keep Quirrel out.

Willow breathed in deeply, relaxing her muscles. She imagined that she was on the side of a mountain in summer time. Her father used to take her hiking on every vacation they went on. She traveled to her favorite one, Mount Kilimanjaro. In her mind's eyes, Willow saw herself sitting there, meditating in the cool wind. The image took precedent over everything else and drove the other memories and emotions away. Frustrated, Quirrel retracted himself from Willow's mind, bringing her back into the present.

"M-master, she is resisting!" Quirrel whined.

"Fool, try harder! She is a Guerrero!"

Quirrel re-cast the spell, this time knocking Willow back against the wall. She tried to go back to the mountainside but failed. Quirrel was stronger than she had ever imagined. He sifted through more memories, getting deeper and deeper by the second. Soon, he would find them, the memories she had buried, both old and new, and she would be done for. He couldn't see those. There had to be another way.

Willow took another deep breath, trying to relax herself. She pinpointed where she felt Quirrel's presence strongest- in the back of her head. Concentrating harder than she ever had before, Willow pushed against the force of Quirrel, imagining herself shoving him towards the front part of her head, as if he were a heavy boulder she was trying to push off a cliff. The Quirrel standing in front of her gasped.

"Master, I'm being shut out!"

"Don't let her win! You are strong, she is weak! She cannot resist you forever!"

Willow's chest constricted with the pressure building up from the confrontation. She was making progress, the feeling of Quirrel now in the middle of her head. He pushed back, and Willow pushed back harder. Sweat poured down Willow's forehead and into her eyes. She refused to shut them, though they stung, knowing that if she did, she would lose all of her progress and Quirrel would slingshot into the part of her mind that he needed. Willow thought of her locket, resting over her chest. Voldemort was right.

She was a Guerrero.

And a Guerrero never gave in, no matter what the cost was.

Because a Guerrero was a warrior.

Willow lost the ability to breath because of the immense pressure in her chest. Quirrel was literally being pushed back by her, his feet sliding away as he leaned toward her. He was giving everything he had, but it wasn't enough. Willow was stronger. She fought and fought, refusing to let him win, ignoring Voldemort's screaming at Quirrel to do something. Willow's lungs screamed for air. She kept pushing. The walls started trembling, then cracking. She kept pushing. Quirrel was now several meters away from her. A single, large crack made its way across the ceiling. She kept pushing. The crack connected into a single barrier between Quirrel and Willow, and all of a sudden, the ceiling collapsed.

Willow gasped for air, coughing as she inhaled clouds of dust from the rubble. Quirrel was cursing distantly on the other side while Voldemort screamed at him for his worthlessness. Willow sat there, trapped, unable to move. She was still chained to the wall, and the chunks of ceiling were inches from her toes. That was a close one. The woman's voice came screeching into Willow's head, as if a mic had finally reconnected.

Willow! Willow! Why can't you hear me?

Ah! Pipe down! You're screaming! Willow said, her ears ringing.

Thank God! Our mind connection was blocked! I saw what happened to you! Listen, they're probably going to come back, and I don't have much time. Don't tell them about your powers. I didn't want to say this, but to ensure you really don't give this up, the fate of the world rests on you not letting them discover your powers.

WHAT!

Like I said, I didn't want to say it, but it really does! Don't let them know!

Willow's heart hammered against her ribs. What did that mean? How could the secret of her powers be that important? Since when was she trusted with secrets that important? Then again, she was probably born with the powers, and the secrets kind of came with it, but still, Willow was in disbelief.

"Reducto!"

Willow cried out in pain when tiny particles of rock blasted her in the face. Quirrel strode through the path he had created, grabbing Willow by the throat. She panicked and started choking, immediately wishing she hadn't, because Quirrel noticed and only gripped her tighter.

"Do you see what happens, Willow? Now do you understand? No matter how much you fight, we always come back, and you're eventually going to lose."

Willow thought her windpipe was going to explode Quirrel was crushing her neck so hard. The anger seemed to pulse through his veins, fueled by his own shame and Voldemort's fury, giving him extra strength. Her vision started to fuzz.

"I'll make you a deal," Quirrel offered. "You tell us everything we want to know, and we'll let you go free, how about it?"

"Can't- speak-" Willow choked.

"Release the girl, Quirrel."

Willow fell to the floor, coughing and gagging and gasping and choking all at the same time. Her throat felt like it had been through a garbage disposal. Every breath hurt more than the cut on her back.

"Well? What do you say?" Quirrel prompted.

Willow glared at him, the defiance clear in her eyes. "No."

"If we can't take the information, then torture it out of her. She'll speak eventually," Voldemort said.

Willow stood up, fighting against her chains. No, they wouldn't torture her, would they? She was only a first year. They would try other ways to find the information, then leave her alone, right?

No, they're actually going to torture you! Prepare yourself! the voice lady screamed.

Willow's breath became shallow and quick. She was ready to break down crying already. There was no way she could handle torture. Hadn't what they'd done to her been enough already?

No. Of course not. These were the most brutal people the planet had to offer. Quirrel raised his wand to aim squarely at Willow's tightening chest. She tried to steel herself against what was coming, trying to remember the worst pain she had ever felt and expect that.

"Crucio!"

The pain came no where close.

Willow had expected herself to never give into torture. She had briefly wondered what she would do in such a situation, and had fancied herself to act like the people she would see in movies. They wouldn't cry, they wouldn't show any sign of pain. Willow had hoped she would act that way and not let the torturers get the best of her.

But this was nothing like she had ever felt before. At first, there was nothing, but the shock quickly wore off, and Willow felt the burning sensation crawl all over her body, intensifying as it went, until she couldn't even hear herself screaming anymore. It was like someone had taken a steak knife and slit every inch of exposed skin. The pain ricocheted off her bones, vibrating in her skull. Whatever she had prepared for, it was not this. Willow forgot all about staying neutral and emotionless. The pain was too great, her vocal chords could barely make the high-pitch sound of extreme discomfort anymore, and she wished that Quirrel would stop, leave her alone. It was absolutely horrible.

"Have you had a change of heart now?" Quirrel said, his voice mockingly friendly.

"No!" Willow choked out. Quirrel shrugged.

"Your choice of torture, not mine."

Quirrel cast the spell again just as it was beginning to wear off. The pain somehow doubled, even worse than before. Willow's limbs spasmed in pain, jolting out every so often, then curling up into a tiny ball to protect herself from the next wave. But each wave of agony was worse than the last. There was no escaping it. She was truly being tortured. Willow thought her scab on her back must have ripped open by now, and she confirmed it with the warmth trickling down it. She realized how life-threatening the situation was becoming. Would she have to die with her information to keep the world safe?

"One more chance, Willow. Do you want to speak now?"

"I'd rather die than give a friendly word to you, you duchebag!" Willow snarled.

"Then you'll have to die for a stupid, stupid cause. Goodbye, Willow."

Willow screamed louder than she ever had before when the next Crutiatus Curse took effect. She was slammed against the wall, her bag smearing blood across it. Her limbs were so taught with the strain on her muscles that she felt them start to tear when they moved again in reaction to the pain. Willow's tears wouldn't cease. There was so much pain. Would it be best to give in at this point, she thought? Would it be worth it to spare my life?

No, it isn't. I'm a Guerrero. I'm a warrior. Warriors either succeed in their cause or die trying. I'm protecting my friends. If this can make them worried enough about me, then my plan is working. Even better if they go get Dumbledore.

Willow shrieked when a particularly powerful wave of pain tore through her body. Gritting her teeth, Willow tried to relax, attempting to make it look as if the pain wasn't enough to hurt her. Of course, it was still visible on her face, the effect it was having on her. But she would have to learn to endure much more of it if her plan was going to work.

Voldemort was not about to let it work. Willow's plan went down in flames with a few words.

"Fool, she's weak now! Enter her mind again!"

"Legillimens!"

Willow had no time to prepare herself for Quirrel entering her mind. He coursed straight through it, reaching the back in no time. In a few seconds, it would all be over. Quirrel would have found everything, she would be exposed, and her life would end on the spot. At least the torturous curse had faded off. No more pain, no more suffering, just peace, like they had promised...

Wait. No, if Quirrel promised something, that means it can't possibly be true. I have to keep fighting!

Right before Quirrel entered the deepest part of Willow's mind, she regained her focus, pushing him away. He pushed back harder than before, and Willow's torture was taking its toll, the exhaustion it left her with making it difficult to keep up. It was like a game of tug-of-war between two siblings except the opposite direction. Quirrel made a little progress, then Willow pushed him away, Quirrel again moved forward, Willow nearly threw him out of her mind. She was almost winning, so close to victory...

Suddenly, Willow was on the last of her strength. She had nothing left. Pushing back became too hard, and Quirrel started gaining on her, getting deeper into her head by the second. It was inevitable. He would find it any second. She had to come up with something, and fast. An idea struck her like lightning: what if she let him see one memory, but hid all the others? It would work. It had to work. With great emotional discomfort, Willow drew up the memory of her mother on the night she went crazy and replayed it in her head.

It worked. Quirrel stopped, eating up the horrible memory, seeming to love every scream of terror and heartbreak, most of all enjoying young Willow's reaction. He was a sick, rotten person that Willow couldn't wait to get rid of. That was, if she could survive long enough to do that. Quirrel retracted himself from Willow's mind once again, wearing a triumphant smirk.

"I told you, you're weak, pathetic. You are worthless to this world, Willow Guerrero."

The words had no effect on Willow. She had called herself those very adjectives plenty of times. For some reason, when someone else called her negative things, it had a positive effect, because she took it as a compliment, meaning those people thought she was a threat instead of those negative things. In this particular situation, it fueled Willow's need to blast Quirrel in the face with another stunning spell. Speaking of faces, Quirrel began speaking to Voldemort.

"My Lord, she is not the One, just as we suspected."

"Good. Grace wasn't lying then. She killed the other one and successfully ended their advantage."

"What should we do with the girl, then?"

"Leave her here to rot. She knows too much. We can't have her big mouth spoiling our plan."

"Yes, my Lord. It will be done."

Willow's heartbeat quickened for some reason as Quirrel turned to face her again. "See, what did I tell you? All of this could have been prevented if you simply would have told us what we needed."

"I will never tell you anything," Willow growled.

"Oh, but you don't have to. We can take it any time we want."

"You're a coward," Willow snapped. "I hate you and Voldemort. You're both cowards that deserve to rot much more than I do."

"But that's the part you're missing, Willow," Quirrel said in a fake tone. "Those who play the game well always get away with it."

Willow stood up, struggling against her chains. "You'll never get away with this! You deserve whatever's coming to you!"

"Willow, dear, did you not hear me? There's nothing coming to me for this. All of this is you fault, anyway." Willow's mouth dropped open as Quirrel coolly stepped closer to her. "You thought your little plan would work, wouldn't it? By confronting me, you would stall enough time to get your friends worried. They'd come here with Dumbledore. There was one major flaw in your plan: you'd never last that long, and I can see right through you. Your friends aren't coming soon enough to save you. You'll die in here, all alone, in the dark, where you belong. I'm going to get that stone and revive the Dark Lord. Even if your pathetic friends try to stop me. They'll never survive all the traps, and if they somehow do, I'll be waiting for them. You'll never see those brats again!"

Horror drove a knife deep into Willow's gut. "No! Don't kill them! They know nothing about my plan!"

"Save it for the judge- which soon, actually, will be the Dark Lord. Oh, and that reminds me."

Quirrel waved his wand, and Willow's came flying in from the other room. He placed his hands on either side of it and pressed down. Willow realized with a jolt what he was about to do.

"No! Please, no!" Willow screamed, more tears streaming down her face. "Quirrel, no!"

With a crunch and a snap, Willow's wand was broken in two, the dragon heartstring now in plain sight. Willow's heart broke with it. How could the world be so cruel to her?

"There. Now it's all better. You won't need a wand once you're dead; there won't be anyone to bury it with you. Besides, you're a blood traitor, and blood traitors are not witches or wizards. You're just scum."

"But you're a half-blood!" Willow retorted, rage and the crushing weight of sadness mixing with the tears dripping down her face. "Why would you care? Your blood is just as 'tainted' as the rest!"

Quirrel didn't answer, only wincing. "You really are a blood traitor, Willow. I'll say goodbye to your friends for you."

"No! Come back and fight, you coward! Come back and fight!"

But Quirrel only left without a word, leaving Willow alone in a dark cellar, chained to the wall, slowly but surely bleeding out once again. She sat down, putting her head in her knees. The tears wouldn't stop falling as her mind tormented her with replays of her wand snapping in half. There went her past, her present, her future. She didn't exist anymore. She wasn't real.

There was no reality for her anymore.