"What are you doing, darling? Where's your costume?"
"This is my costume. I'm a homicidal maniac. They look just like everybody else."

Margaret Alford and Wednesday Addams

Chapter 19: The Man with Two Faces

It was Quirrell.

"You!" Harry gasped.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter." He glanced at Erica. I shouldn't be surprised you're with him, Addams."

Erica was fuming. But for Harry's sake, she tried to remain calm. Remaining calm would keep them both alive until Ron and Hermione could bring help.

"But I thought — Snape —"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "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?" Quirrell's eyes slid to Erica. "Who besides, Addams, anyway."

Harry's wide eyes found Erica. She glared deeply at Quirrell, but didn't seem surprised. But Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Isn't that right, Addams?"

Erica swallowed, but her glare never wavered. "Hermione didn't notice," Erica said, her voice quiet, but steady. She subtly moved to stand in front of Harry. "Snape wasn't the only one with unwavering eye contact. You weren't blinking either. And the look on your face…" Erica shook her head. "You didn't look like the notoriously anxious Professor Quirrell we all knew. You looked cold, and dark, and determined. But I wasn't sure if it was you or Snape doing the cursing, so I decided to break both your concentrations.

"I knocked into you, but I knew that if I tried that with Snape I'd get caught. So I set him on fire."

"Yes," Quirrell sneered. "By knocking into me at the Quidditch match, you broke my eye contact with Potter. Another few seconds and I'd have got him off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save him."

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry gasped.

"Of course," Quirrell said coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really… he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular… and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight." He smiled maliciously. "Both of you."

Erica made sure to stand her ground, keeping Harry behind her.

"How did you know?" Harry whispered to Erica.

"Yes… How did you know?" Quirrell echoed. "Even if you suspected me, Snape's behavior towards Potter had to give you pause."

"It did," Erica admitted. "Then I saw you at the second match. I saw how angry you were. You kept glancing at Dumbledore, and you looked dark again. And so angry. Then you flinched, and started talking to yourself. I still wasn't sure, but I knew something was off about you. I always did. But after that…" Erica shook her head. "Then I started paying attention to you. Snape may have been keeping a close watch on Harry, but so were you. You just didn't bother following him around. Then add in the conversations Harry overheard between you and Snape… questioning your loyalties and such. And then there was Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" Quirrell actually scoffed the name.

"Yes, Dumbledore," Erica said. "He may be an extremely accepting and tolerant person, but I doubt he'd keep someone as horrible as Snape around if he didn't have the utmost trust in him. The slightest sign that Snape was threatening the safety of the Stone, let alone the safety of a student…" Erica shook her head. "But you had the perfect cover. Anxious. Stuttering. Afraid of your own shadow. No one would suspect you. But even after all that, I was still unsure. At least, until about fifteen minutes ago."

"What?" Harry gasped.

"The troll," Erica said. She gestured her head towards the chamber containing the knocked out troll. "You nearly fainted when you saw the one from Halloween. Yet your protection for the Stone is a bigger version of the same creature?" Erica scoffed. "As if."

Quirrell stared at her, then flashed a scary, cynical smile. "We always knew you were intelligent, Addams. But we never knew just how much. How troublesome."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and Erica. Erica fell to the ground and her wand clattered out of her hand.

"Addams, you're too intelligent, and Potter's too nosy to let live. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew, Potter, you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?" Harry gasped.

"Certainly. Like Addams figured out, I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to that one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter, Addams. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

Erica eyed the mirror apprehensively. She knew what it was. Harry had described everything from its clawed feet to the strange inscription at the top. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Mirror writing. I show not your face, but your heart's desire.

Erica felt her heart pound at the sight of the mirror. She wanted to look into it. She wanted to run away from it. She wanted to spend forever in front of it. She never wanted to see it again. She knew what it would show her. She wasn't sure what it would show her. She was afraid of it. She was drawn to it.

But why was the mirror here? Why had Dumbledore moved it here? What was its purpose? What did your heart's desire have to do with the Sorcerer's Stone?

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I'll be far away by the time he gets back…"

All Harry and Erica could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest —" Harry blurted out.

"Yes," Quirrell said idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me — as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…"

Erica's blood ran cold. So he was working for Voldemort. Her mind began to whir. How? How was this possible? Voldemort didn't even have a body! He was barely conscious. Most of the wizarding community thought he was dead. So where had he been hiding? How did Quirrell find him and come to serve him? How? How?

Why?

She knew Quirrell was trying to find the Stone for Voldemort, to restore the Dark wizard to his body and power. The unicorn blood was only enough to sustain him until he could get the Stone and Elixir of Life. But how was he getting the unicorn blood to Voldemort? And Erica remembered his conversations with himself. How was he communicating with Voldemort?

Erica looked around. Was he here? Was Voldemort here?

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

Erica made eye contact with him. She understood.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much," Harry said.

"Oh, he does," Quirrell said casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing — I thought Snape was threatening you…"

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face. Erica noticed it, and planned to pounce on it.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions — he is a great wizard and I am weak —"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," Quirrell said 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…"

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley — how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell cursed under his breath.

"I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Erica forced a laugh. "No wonder he punished you. You're an idiot."

"What?"

"Erica, what are you doing?" Harry hissed hurriedly.

Erica knew it was important to keep Quirrell from somehow finding the Stone, but it was more important to keep his attention off Harry. If he managed to find it, Harry needed to escape. Voldemort was after him.

Erica couldn't let anything happen to Harry. Wouldn't.

So what else was there to do but keep the attention on herself?

"Can't even figure out a simple mirror," Erica scoffed. "Dumbledore is probably counting on you smashing it, idiot. Dumbledore is brilliant. He would expect that. And he would ensure that by doing so, you would never be able to get the Stone."

Erica flipped onto her back and sat up, despite the ropes tightening around her. She glared at Quirrell.

"Even if you manage to get it… What's in it for you?"

Quirrell seemed truly surprised by that.

"You've failed him so many times already… You failed at Gringotts. At Halloween. Failed to kill Harry in November, then failed again at the next Quidditch match. You failed to remain in the shadows when Snape suspected you. You failed when you delayed stealing the Stone until now. You gave Hagrid that dragon egg weeks ago, yet you still didn't come down here until now. You failed when Hagrid noticed the injured unicorns, and you failed when Harry saw you in the forest. You failed when he was rescued by a centaur, and here you are, failing again! You can't even get a stupid Stone out of a simple mirror!"

Erica smiled, and Harry was surprised by how cold it was. "What makes you think that your master is going to keep you alive after all those failures? What makes you think that your master's going to keep you around once he has the Stone, huh? What makes you think he's going to keep you alive, reward you?

"Lord Voldemort is not merciful. Not to his enemies. Not to his followers. Not to anyone! So why do you think you will be spared? Rewarded? Why do you —"

"ENOUGH!"

Quirrell roared so suddenly that even though it scared her and Harry, they both knew she had hit a nerve. Quirrell knew the cruelty of his master. He knew his master's expectations. He knew his master's demands.

And Quirrell knew that as soon as he got the Stone, he was disposable.

Voldemort wouldn't need him anymore.

He was done for.

"You, Erica Addams…" Quirrell was so furious he could barely speak above a whisper. "You truly are smarter than you look. And more troublesome. I may not be alive much longer, but neither will you."

Erica tried not to shiver. "This isn't the first time I've stared death in the face."

"No…" Quirrell smiled coldly. "No, I suppose it isn't."

Erica felt Harry's confused eyes on her, but she didn't look at him.

"Now's the time to prove your intelligence, Addams," Quirrell said. He snapped, and the ropes around her unwound. "Get up. GET UP!"

Quirrell forced Erica to her feet.

"You say you know what this mirror is… prove it."

Then, to Erica and Harry's horror, a voice interrupted, a voice that seemed to come from Quirrell.

"The Mudblood is nothing… Use the boy… The boy…"

"Over my dead body," Erica growled, forcing back a shiver at the slur.

"Perhaps, Master… We should amuse the girl."

For a moment, Erica feared she would die on the spot, but the cold, hissing voice spoke again.

"Very well… let us see if she can be useful…"

Quirrell pushed Erica towards the mirror.

The Mirror of Erised was enormous, and it seemed to loom over Erica. She wondered why she felt more afraid of it than she did of Quirrell.

Erica knew what she'd see. Erica knew what she wanted to see.

She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the stench coming from Quirrell's turban. God, what was in what thing?

Harry's mind raced. He feared for Erica. He knew Quirrell wouldn't spare her. He knew Voldemort didn't spare anyone.

Erica and Harry had the same thoughts.

What I want more than anything else in the world, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does.

Erica wondered if the mirror would reveal the Stone's hiding spot. But it couldn't be that simple. Quirrell had seen the Stone in the mirror and still didn't have it. So… How to get the Stone?

Erica opened her eyes and looked into the mirror.

Her reflection was herself. Exactly as she was. Except… It wasn't.

Erica stood taller, prouder. Happier. There were no scars on her face. No scrapes on her cheek. No circles under her eyes. No swamping clothing to hide her scars and self. No permanent exhaustion, no anxious ticks, no mysterious bruises.

No lycanthropy.

Erica felt like crying.

"What do you see?" Quirrell demanded.

Erica flinched.

"I think you know what I see," she whispered.

"Yes," he sneered. "Yes, I suppose I do. No… condition. No sickness."

Erica didn't look at him, continuing to stare into the mirror.

Then, to her astonishment, Healthy Erica moved.

She reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt. From inside, she withdrew a red, gleaming stone. The Sorcerer's Stone.

Healthy Erica winked, then slipped the Sorcerer's Stone into her sleeve. And at the same time, Erica felt something heavy drop into her real sleeve.

She forced herself to remain calm. But she'd done it. She'd gotten the Sorcerer's Stone!

Hell if she knew how.

"Enough of this," Quirrell hissed. With a swift snap of his fingers, Erica flew back and slammed against a wall of the chamber.

"Erica!"

Somewhere through the fuzz that was her head, she heard Harry calling for her. But she felt sleepy. And her head hurt.

Erica slid to the ground, and was barely able to catch herself. She felt the Stone in her sleeve. It sent a jolt of energy through her. She still had the Stone. Quirrell didn't know she had it!

Quirrell was standing in front of the mirror again. He was looking somewhere between distressed and desperate.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

The horrible, cold voice sounded again.

"Use the boy… Use the boy…"

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes — Potter — come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry looked over at Erica, then slowly got to his feet.

Erica nodded at him. She was okay.

Harry swallowed, but nodded back.

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

Harry walked toward him.

I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. The reflection turned to look to its left, and in walked Erica, smiling cheekily at Harry. That cheeky smile she donned when she knew something he didn't. When all the clues had been laid before him and she was encouragingly waiting for him to figure it out.

Harry's reflection and Mirror Erica smiled at each other, then Mirror Erica reached into her sleeve, and withdrew a blood-red stone. She dropped it back into her sleeve and grinned. She brought a finger to her lips, and Harry's reflection winked.

Harry quietly gasped. Erica! Erica had gotten the Stone!

"Well?" Quirrell said impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry screwed up his courage.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I — I've won the House Cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he saw Erica had crawled her way across the floor toward where her wand had fallen. She had a trickle of blood falling down the side of her face, leading to a gash on her hairline.

Harry and Erica made eye contact. Did they dare make a break for it?

But Erica hadn't even had the chance to get to her feet before that high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies… He lies…"

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him… face-to-face…"

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough… for this…"

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle, not even when Erica scrambled to her feet and pushed herself in front of him. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry and Erica would've screamed, but neither of them could make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry and Erica had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter…" It whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move. Erica reached back and gripped Harry's shirt, keeping him behind her, but her hand was shaking with terror.

"See what I have become?" the face 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?"

So he knew. But he didn't. Voldemort thought Harry had the Stone. Not Erica.

That was their advantage.

Feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward, and Erica gripped her wand tight, ready to protect both the Stone and her friend.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own lives and join me… or you'll meet the same end as Potter's parents… They died begging me for mercy…"

"LIAR!" Harry suddenly shouted.

"Stay back!" Erica shouted, raising her trembling wand.

Quirrell was walking backward at Harry and Erica, so that Voldemort could still see them. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching…" it hissed. "I always value bravery… Yes, boy, your parents were brave… 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… Just like your friend… Always hiding behind the life of brilliant Muggleborns, aren't you, Potter? Now give me the Stone… unless you want your mother to have died in vain… Unless you want the blood of dear Erica Addams on your hands.

"NEVER!"

It was shouted by Harry and Erica, together.

"Harry, RUN!"

Harry ran. Erica raised her wand, shouted a spell, and a jet of red light smacked Voldemort right where his nose would have been.

"Filthy Mudblood! Crucio!"

Erica screamed and collapsed. Pain! Oh, my god, pain!

Erica felt like there were a thousand hot knives pressing into her, all over her. She squirmed away, and she screamed, and she begged. However bad her aches were, however terrible her migraines, however painful her transformations were…

This was worse. This was so much worse.

But eventually, the pain stopped. Erica sucked in air instantly, twitching from the remaining effects of the spell. Somewhere behind her, she heard Harry screaming. But Erica couldn't move. She couldn't get to him. She couldn't see!

Erica's gaze was blurred from tears and pain. Her ears felt stuffed with cotton. Her nerves felt exposed, stinging, raw. She tasted blood in her mouth, and felt it dribbling from her nose.

Erica could still hear Harry screaming.

Harry. She had to get to Harry!

There was no thought of her wand. There was no thought of the Stone. There was no thought of her life, or of Quirrell, or even of Voldemort. Only thoughts of Harry.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" Erica heard Voldemort shriek.

She blinked, groggy. Her body hurt with every movement she made, but she pushed to her knees. The blurry figure that was Quirrell was hunched over Harry. He reached out and wrapped his hand around Harry's neck. Harry instantly screamed in pain, and so did Quirrell. The man instantly let go and backed away, hunched with agony.

Erica blinked through the haze. She crawled her way toward Harry. Her hand slapped down on the stone floor, and she felt her wand under her palm. She clumsily grasped it, and she continued forward.

Erica's stomach rolled. Every movement she made, she felt sick. Her entire body was in pain. And at the same time, she was entirely numb.

Harry, she had to get to Harry.

"Master, I can't hold him — my hands — my hands!"

Erica blinked and forced her eyes to focus. Quirrell's hand looked burned — raw and red and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" Voldemort screeched.

The words broke through Erica's haze, but she was getting weaker. Black spots were appearing in her vision. She felt cold.

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell's howls of pain made her look up again. She saw Quirrell roll off Harry, who had been pushing against his face. Quirrell's face was blistering, burning.

Erica blinked. How… How…?

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off — the pain in Harry's head was building, his scar practically on fire — he couldn't see — he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe Erica's crying, "Harry! Harry!"

Erica was crying for him. What was happening. What was happening?!

And then, Erica pushed herself to her feet. No more. No more! She ran with strength she didn't know she had and wrenched Quirrell's arm from Harry's grasp.

Harry collapsed.

And, utterly spent, so did Erica.

Hey everyone! Just one more chapter to go and then this story in complete. Thanks for sticking around.

Reviews

Ghostwriter71: Hey there, thanks for commenting! It means a lot to me that you liked this story enough to review, even if it's not your typical story. It was such a touching compliment to receive. And yeah, haha, The Addams Family quotes were fun to compile. I have a master document with somewhere between 400-600 Addams Family quotes. And yeah, this story is what I would call a "vague" crossover - I mention in the Christmas chapter that Erica is related to the Addams Family, but distantly, and I'm not sure I plan to include them in any way other than randomly mentioning them as Erica's "extended family" haha. Thank you so much for reading! :)

Sammiemoosam