CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Ashes to Dust

"You," Harry said, gaping at Quirrell in disbelief.

Ellie couldn't quite believe it, herself. "But… you're such a… a…" She decided that, considering the state of things, insulting her teacher was probably the least of her concerns. "…coward."

"Coward?" repeated Quirrell, sniggering. "P-p-poor, st-t-tuttering Professor Quirrell? Yes, well, we couldn't have anyone suspecting me, now could we?"

The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Quirrell had been the one who reported the escaped troll in the first place; Quirrell was the one Snape had pulled aside that day in the forest, talking about betrayal…

"Snape was… trying to protect the Stone?" stammered Harry.

"Quite annoying about it, too," Quirrell grumbled bitterly. "No matter, though—I'm here now."

Ellie glanced at Harry, whose jaw was clenched tightly closed.

"But how to get it?" muttered Quirrell, more to himself than to the two of them. He turned to face his reflection in the mirror, looking confused. "I made it this far, and yet it's still out of my reach."

"You must use the boy," hissed a new voice—seemingly disembodied. Ellie and Harry reached for each other instinctively, grasping their hands tightly together as they faced the frightening possibility that it could very well be Voldemort they were hearing. "But first, kill the girl. She's as worthless as her father."

Ellie's heart raced. She knew she should focus on not getting killed at the moment, but she had a hard time thinking about anything but those words. If that voice was Voldemort, and he was calling her father worthless, didn't that mean everyone else was wrong about him?

But her inner questions had slowed her down, and before she knew it, she was looking into the end of Quirrell's wand. The only thing she had time to do was hum a few, short lines of Everlong—the song she always played with Fred—God, she wished Fred was here now—

And then there was a flash of green, two fateful words, and everything went black.

She stirred. She opened one eye. She thought she might be dead, until she realized that only about three seconds had passed and that she was in the exact same place she had been before. The humming had worked—better than she had expected, actually, as Quirrell seemed to think she was dead. The pain inside her from the use of her shield against such a powerful spell wasn't exactly pleasant, but she was alive.

"Ellie?" Harry was shouting. She felt his hands on her, shaking her desperately. "Ellie!"

She opened one eye again, gray met green, and he relaxed. Taking a deep breath, he jumped to his feet and shouted at Quirrell, "How dare you?"

Decent acting, she mused to herself. Not that she had any idea how her faking dead would work to their advantage. One step at a time, right?

"Now," the disembodied voice hissed. "To get to the Stone, you must use the boy."

"You heard him," said Quirrell, reaching out to grab Harry forcefully by the shoulders and shove him over to the mirror. "Tell me what you see, boy."

"I… I'm winning the House Cup," Harry stuttered.

"He's lying!" hissed the voice.

"You're right!" Harry yelped. "I was lying. I—I see my parents, all right? My mum and dad, standing on either side of me—"

"Lying!" the voice barked. "That is what he usually sees, but not what he now sees. Let me speak to him."

"Master, you are not strong enough," said Quirrell nervously.

"I have strength… enough… for this."

And just like that, Quirrell reached up to unravel the turban from his head. Slowly—magnificently—horribly—the cloth was gone, and in its place on the back of Quirrell's head was a sickening, shrunken face—the face of Lord Voldemort.

Harry took a step back, looking petrified with fear.

"Give me the Stone," Voldemort hissed. "Come, boy—give me the Stone and I can give you what you want—what you need—what you see in the Mirror…"

Harry took another step back, green eyes glowing from the light of the flames that surrounded them. But he couldn't move any further, and he wasn't saying no.

"I can bring them back," Voldemort hissed. "Together—we can bring them back. Just give me the Stone!"

"No!" Harry shouted—to Ellie's immense relief—but Voldemort and Quirrell shouted, too, at that, and suddenly they ran toward him. Ellie lunged forward at that, grabbing her wand and praying that her spell would work as she shouted the only attack spell she could think of, "Petrificus Totalus!"

Thank God for Hermione, she thought as Quirrell was frozen and incapacitated the same way Neville had been by Hermione earlier that same night.

Harry seized the opportunity to grab his own wand. "How do we get out of here?" he shouted desperately to Ellie.

She glanced around frantically. "I... I don't know. I could probably jump the flames again, but I can't leave you here—"

He pulled the Stone out of his pocket. It was a brilliant red, glowing like the fire around them. "Take this back to the others," he said. "and tell them to get help. Come back if you can—we'll fight him—them—off until a teacher gets here…" Quirrell's body was stirring. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted frantically, and the body went cold again.

Ellie glanced down at the body, biting her lip. She knew the most important thing was to get the Stone away from Voldemort, but how could she leave Harry?

She'd just have to be quick.

"I'll be back in a flash," she promised him before changing into her dog form and taking the Stone into her mouth.

She sprinted toward the room she had come from as fast as she could, leapt as high as she could over the flames, rolled them out on the other side, and galloped through the potions room. When she reached the chess room, she shifted back into her human form, spit the Stone out of her mouth, and thrusted it hard into Fred's hands.

"Get it out of here," she said urgently to him. "Leave Hermione with Ron. It's not Snape—it's Quirrell—Quirrell and Voldemort."

Fred's eyes clouded over with even more fear and panic than the last time he'd seen her. "Slow down," he urged. "El, you can't just—"

But she had already doubled back.

She skidded through the two rooms and back over the flames. She froze in her tracks, though, when she saw that Quirrell was standing again, and Harry's wand was on the floor.

She moved to leap at Quirrell, but stopped again when she saw what was happening: the touch of Harry's hands seemed to be frying Quirrell's skin right off.

Ellie shifted into her human form at that, shouting the only encouragement she could think of: "Hang in there, Harry! It's working!"

She was right—it did work. Before long, Quirrell had turned to dust beneath Harry's fingertips, leaving behind only a strange, spirit-like creature almost like the ghosts of Hogwarts.

It was the ghost of Voldemort—still not quite ready to let go.

And when it knocked into Harry and Ellie, it rendered both of them unconscious.

Well, we all know that things would've worked out with or without Ellie... but she had some brave moments in there, all the same! Poor Fred must have been terrified when she brought him that Stone, don't you think? We still have two more chapters from Philosopher's Stone, so keep those reviews and support coming (thanks Neve for that enthusiastic last review - keep 'em up!), and we'll be on to CoS before you know it! Trust me when I tell you, the older Ellie gets, the more interesting her circumstances will!