Chapter 16: Mirrors and Dark Lords

Harry hoped the girls would be able to move fast. He wasn't sure who he would find at the end of this hall, but he was sure he could buy time for them. To be honest though, he wasn't sure what condition he would be in by the time they brought help, especially if it takes them too long to find someone.

Harry turned around the last corner and came to a dead stop.

"Huh. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised," Harry said causally.

"That's all you have to say, Potter? Not going to accuse someone like Professor Snape of being the likely perpetrator? He does seem the part after all," Professor Quirrell said without turning around. He was looking at a mirror in the middle of the room for some reason that Harry didn't know.

Harry gave a chuckle. "He isn't the one using an obviously fake stutter for the whole year and acting overly afraid of his own shadow to the point of parody," he said.

He was buying time and a great way to do that was to get the other person talking. Seeming confident could make an enemy more wary of you, causing them to act slowly and carefully trying to figure out what you were planning. It could also amuse them into humoring you, especially if they thought they were the ones in control and you didn't pose a threat.

With Quirrell, it was the latter.

The turban wearing professor gave a dark chuckle. "I suppose it all was a tad much. It worked though. Wizards don't usually have much in the way of logic and common sense," he said.

The man then gave a condescending laugh. "Professor Snape's little test is proof enough of that. Seriously… a logic puzzle of all things? He really should have known it wouldn't hold anyone with an ounce of sense up for long. The fact you, of all people, made it through is proof enough," he scoffed in dark amusement.

"Enough of that though," he then said. He quickly used a spell that shot ropes at Harry. That might have been enough for your normal first year, but Harry wasn't normal.

The Hufflepuff quickly side-stepped the ropes. Professor Quirrell actually looked surprised for a moment. He then did a motion with his hands at Harry. Wandless magic was really impressive, but Harry could sense the energy of the spell. He was a Street Knight. He actually had instincts magicals usually didn't have. Harry quickly dived behind a pillar to evade the spell.

Professor Quirrell was again surprised, but quickly reacted and shot his rope spell at the pillar. Harry had unwittingly trapped himself by diving behind something which blocked his line of sight.

"Foolish, Potter. Breaking line of sight. You can't dodge what you can't see. I will admit it was an impressive display though," the man said as he rounded the corner thinking he would see a tied up first year with a scar on his forehead.

Harry dived behind the pillar and quickly dropped into a squat. The ropes wrapped around the pillar and would have captured him, if he wasn't a quick thinker. Harry had known how to fight for a few years now. He had been in fights before as well.

When Professor Quirrell rounded the pillar confidently, he was shocked to see Harry wasn't there. He quickly looked to his left and before he looked to his right, he felt a hard punch to his gut. The man stumbled back a few steps hissing in pain. Potter had used some kind of magic to cause the punch to hurt far more than it should. It even seemed to burn a little. It seemed it wasn't a perfect spell to use though.

Harry was shocked for two reasons. First, his punch seemed to have a lot more power to it against Quirrell than it should, even if he was a lazy wizard who relied too much on magic. Second, his knuckles seemed to have been burned a little. It wasn't anything too bad for him. You couldn't come out of every fight unscathed, even if you were the clear victor. It was a surprise though and his surprise cost him.

Quirrell quickly cast his rope spell again. This time Potter was caught in it and tied to the pillar. He then turned the boy around so he was facing the center of the room too. He could keep an eye on the child while he figured out what to do with the mirror this way.

"Spunk will only get you so far, Potter. I would deal with you now, but I have more important matters to attend to," Professor Quirrell said dismissively.

He approached the mirror again. He once more looked at it. "What to do… Count on Dumbledore to come up with some trick like this," he mused to himself sounding almost impressed.

Harry tried to think of what to do. He wasn't sure what was with this mirror, but he didn't want Quirrell figuring it out. Harry decided to keep Quirrell talking and hopefully distracted. "So, you had everyone fooled? Well… Except me that is. A first year," Harry said.

Quirrell gave a chuckle as he pondered the mirror's trick. "You really are amusing when you want to be. Too bad you're such a nosey brat. Perhaps you can stay around as a court jester or something once this is all over," he mused.

"Yes, I did have everyone else fooled. Except for Professor Snape. The foolish man thought he was intimidating me though. So, I guess he was partially fooled. HA! To think a first year from the muggle world, was smarter than Hogwarts' man-sized dungeon bat," he said.

"Did you let the troll in? You did happen to faint forward. Not really the regular way to do so," Harry said.

"I did. Everyone really thought it just happened to wander in on its own. Really… I know Professor Dumbledore is a fool, but to think he was so incompetent even his own staff believed a troll to just wander past the wards so easily. I have a gift with trolls. Always have. I'm sure you saw what I did to the one on the way here," Professor Quirrell said.

Harry was about to keep him going, but took a break in their conversation. The last thing he wanted was to press his luck too much and get a gag put in his mouth, magical or otherwise.

"What to do… I see myself giving the stone to my master, but how do I get it," Professor Quirrell muttered to himself.

Harry looked at the mirror. It was actually rather fancy. The mirror was full length and held in a very ornate looking golden stand. There was a large inscription along the top of it. "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi? What language is that?" Harry thought to himself.

He looked over it a couple more times and couldn't help but give a mental sigh.

"Really? I show not your face, but your heart's desire. It's just backwards. That's a very basic and poor code to use. It's like using Pig Latin and thinking you're a scholar in foreign language," Harry thought to himself. He felt so stupid for not figuring it out right away.

Harry then gave an almost silent gasp as he realized what the inscription meant. He knew how the mirror worked! That was even more stupid! He doubted he was that smart. He wasn't dumb, but he figured only someone like Hermione should figure out Dumbledore's trick that quickly.

Professor Quirrell didn't seem as immune to wizard stupidity as he thought he was. Harry then quietly gasped again. "Oh… That is clever, Professor Dumbledore," Harry thought in praise.

Harry was about to speak again to distract Quirrell, but he must have been louder than he believed with his gasping. Almost as soon as he figured it out, he seemed to feel some kind of really sharp pain in his forehead, right behind his scar of all things. Quirrell must have figured him out and was doing something to him with wandless magic.

This was something new to Harry. He had felt quick and sharp headaches before a few times throughout the year. Most of them were in DADA oddly enough, but it was never to this level. Harry thought the headaches he felt around the turban wearing man were from that awful stench that followed him everywhere. Harry's senses were a bit sharper than most.

This was different though. It felt like something was pounding against his head. Like it was trying to drill inside him. He grunted to himself in effort. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he would be damned if he didn't fight back against whatever this was. Harry tried to just shrug it off in general, but that wasn't working.

Suddenly though, it seemed like he was starting to get a more acute sense of what the pain was. He almost visualized it in his head. He then gave a mental growl at whatever the thing was and it seemed to fire back from him. Curiously enough at that same time, Quirrell let out a grunt of pain and jolted forward. It was like something slammed in the back of his head.

"He knows! He knows. The boy knows," a wheezy voice said that seemed to come from the back of Quirrell's head. It seemed dusty and very weak.

"Potter! What do you know?" Quirrell growled out suddenly.

Harry blinked for a moment and then smirked. "You're gonna ha-ha-have to be more sp-sp-specific, p-p-professor. I know a lot of things," Harry said.

"At first, I thought you were amusing… The mirror! Potter! What do you know about it?" the man demanded.

"It looks very pretty. I can see… My reflection in it," Harry quipped. He really hoped the cavalry would show up soon. That second voice caught him off guard and threw him. He couldn't help but press his luck at the moment in his surprise with his attitude.

"Let me speak to him…" the second voice said.

"But… Master… You're too weak," Professor Quirrell said. This time it was obvious he wasn't faking his fear.

"I've strength enough… for this," the voice said.

"As you wish, Master…" Quirrell said reluctantly.

He started to unravel his turban. Many students wanted to know what was under his turban. When it was off, Harry could only think, "What the fuck?!" Harry didn't easily swear. He usually avoided it. Overuse of swearing lessened its impact. That's why a lot of people who swore all the time thinking they were tough for doing so, are actually wrong.

However, it was a very appropriate use this time.

Under the turban wasn't a stack of garlic.

It wasn't hair permanently dyed a hideous neon purple.

Under the turban was another face stretched across the back of his head. It was hideous and ugly. "I'd prefer the neon purple…" Harry muttered.

"That humor again. I find it more entertaining than my vessel. Patience is something someone like myself knows the importance of, Harry…" it said.

"I'm guessing you're Quirrell's master. Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Indeed, I am… This is what you did to me, Potter. Forced into a shell of my former glory. Reduced to living off of another. Sharing their body… Me. The Greatest Wizard there ever was!" Voldemort said.

Harry remained silent. He wouldn't want to test Voldemort too much. He was actually scared and grossed out by this turn of events. He wanted to say something along the lines of, "Not all that great really… I mean look at you… You said it yourself. A shell of a wizard." Instead Harry just listened.

"But Harry. You can fix this. You can save me…" Voldemort said.

"Why would I do that? What reason do I have for it?" Harry asked in a voice far calmer than he really was. He was thinking what to do. He couldn't get to his wand. It was in his pocket. He would need to remedy that in the future, if he lived through this. He could try to use his hands, but he was tied up at the moment.

"You have courage… I can appreciate that. Your parents had it as well. They were foolish though. It was too late for your father. But your mother, she didn't have to die. I can sense you are different from them both. You aren't foolish…" the Dark Lord said.

Harry remained quiet again.

"I also know such implied threats aren't appreciated by you and would never work. You're in Hufflepuff. The house for the dunderheads most would say…" Voldemort said.

Harry couldn't help but glower at those words.

Voldemort continued, "I, however, am not so foolish as they. I can appreciate Hufflepuff traits. Hard work is something any great wizard realizes has immense value. And more importantly to me. Something I have never taken for granted… Something I have always held in high regard…"

He paused for a moment. Harry had to appreciate Voldemort had a good sense for the dramatics.

"Loyalty… Yes… Help me here as only you can, Harry. Show me such loyalty and I will return it in kind… Those you cherish will be left alone. They will be safe. They will be under my protection. Once I return to my rightful place in Britain… No one will bother them again," he said.

He still wasn't finished though. "Even your muggle-born friend. My followers will return to me once I regain my strength and body. I have my beliefs that align with their own, but I am as always, a wizard of my word."

"They will not dare to defy me. I could tell them she was to be worshiped and placed on their shoulders and they would comply. Help me here, Harry… With that which is in your head. And I give you my word. Loyalty for loyalty. Life for life," he finished.

Harry pretended to be in thought. The others had to be close now, right? Time seemed to be going by much slower than usual here though. "Loyalty is something I hold in high regard," Harry said.

"One of our many similarities. Just as I know you love magic and see Hogwarts as a home. Think on how we are similar, Harry," Voldemort said.

"However," Harry started. Voldemort gave a slight frown.

"I do not give my loyalty so blindly. I do not give it to wizards who tried to kill me when I was baby. No deal, Voldemort," Harry spat out the last words.

He would not let Voldemort make a mockery of something such as loyalty. He knew the man was lying. He would not honor his word to Harry, even if he did. Harry knew his own life would be taken by the man as soon as possible.

"Use him! I tried to get him to see reason. He is just as foolish as his parents. Force him to look into the mirror!" Voldemort wheezed out to Quirrell.

Professor Quirrell grinned as he used his wand to force Harry into looking at the mirror. Harry closed his eyes. "Open!" Quirrell growled as magic forced Harry's eyes open.

There was actually a curious part of Harry that wondered what he would see in the mirror. He wondered what his heart's desire was. However, he did have to make it look like he wasn't keen on looking into the mirror.

They couldn't know he fully appreciated the purpose of the mirror's trick. He wasn't going to try to fight it. He wasn't so foolish as to think if he somehow got the stone it would be safer.

Harry stared. He then blinked. "Huh… That is something," Harry said.

"What do you see, Potter!" the two-faced man hissed in his ear.

"I-I-I s-s-seeee… I-I-I se-se-se-see," Harry said in a mocking imitation of Quirrell's fake stutter.

Quirrell poked Harry's face with the tip of his wand and said, "I'm tired of your cheek! Potter..."

Harry wanted to groan at that terrible pun.

He instead provided an answer. He needed to get the man off guard, so he could hopefully make a move.

"I see Professor Dumbledore giving me the House Cup! It's repeating though. I'm winning it seven times. Once for every year I'm here! Hufflepuff is getting the House Cup seven times in a row! We beat everyone. Slytherin, Gryffindor. Even Ravenclaw!" Harry said in excitement and joy.

"He lies! He lies! He lies!" Voldemort kept shouting. Quirrell was seething in anger. He was distracted by his master's shouts and Harry's audacity to claim he wanted something so stupid and trivial as the House Cup.

The self-proclaimed Dark Lord wasn't wrong in his claims. However, Harry achieved his goal. Whether intentional or not, Quirrell had released his bindings. Harry wasn't about to reach for his wand though. He wasn't a match for Quirrell in that regard.

He instead elbowed the man causing him to let out an "Oof!" in pain before then knocking the man's wand out of his hand as Quirrell doubled over from the elbow to his gut. Harry then turned around and sent a quick and powerful punch to his face.

"Ahhhh!" Quirrell cried in pain as his face seemed to be burning. Harry punched Quirrell again. He wasn't going to lose his advantage this time. Each punch hurt him as well, but he could survive the pain. He wasn't a stranger to pain. He had two fists and alternated between them. There was no letting Quirrell have a chance to counter the onslaught.

"Kill him! Kill him!" Voldemort screeched.

"Master… It burns! I can't!" Quirrell whimpered in pain.

"Get him! Get him! Don't be useless!" Voldemort growled in anger from the back of the DADA Professor's head.

Harry kneed Quirrell in the gut and punched him again. Harry then decided to slap the man across his face. If skin contact affected him this much, more skin had to be more effective Harry thought. He knew it would hurt him more as well, but this was a life or death fight. Harry needed every advantage he could use no matter the cost.

Harry grunted through the pain he felt as he slapped the older man's face. He grabbed the man's face with both of his hands. He yelled in pain.

However, the pain Harry felt was nothing compared to what Professor Quirrell was enduring. The older man was screaming in pain as his face and then body seemed to steam. It was as if he was melting.

Then Quirrell seemed to explode!

Smoke seemed to escape from him. A cloud with a snake like face howled in both frustration and pain. The cloud quickly shot for an open vent and escaped Hogwarts. Voldemort couldn't last long in this form. He needed a new host body and that had to take priority over the stone. The dark lord knew this meant the stone was out of the question completely. Voldemort knew Dumbledore would get rid of it after this.

Harry was panting as he fell to the floor in a sitting position leaning against a pillar. He took in labored breaths. He was still mostly awake and the pain wasn't overwhelming him yet. He heard the sound of several footsteps rushing down the hall towards him. He looked up to see a worried and startled group of girls.

"Hermione... Hannah… Susan," Harry said weakly to them. They all three looked beautiful even covered in dried sweat and dirt.

They were too shocked and worried to move after seeing Harry in his current state.

An ancient wizard came from behind them. Professor Dumbledore was shocked as well. Harry took in a deep breath as he swayed a little where he was sitting.

"I beat him. I got him… He vapored away. Voldemort escaped," he said wanting to get the truth of what happened out before it was too late.

Harry then felt the last of his adrenaline leave as the pain started to overwhelm him and he swayed and slumped to the side. "Harry!" three voices shouted.

The last thing Harry saw was Hermione catching him just in the nick of time before hit the floor. He wanted to smile to her and let her know he was alright, but he was too weak and tired at the moment. The fight was taking its toll on him now. He instead relaxed completely in her arms and took in the scent of her hair one last time.

If he died, at least his last living memory was something so wonderful.

He really hoped he only felt like he was dying though. He wanted to make what he saw in the mirror a reality. It was a goal worth fighting for in every way.

A/N: Shorter chapter but I figured this was the right amount for what happened here.