Chapter 11 – Showdown at the Final Challenge
"Ah, the Potter brats. I should have expected some interference from you." Quirrell spoke, no hint of a stutter in his voice.
"But, Voldemort…" Harry trailed off. This wasn't right, they had been so sure.
"Ah, so you're brave enough to say my master's name. Not many are."
Jon sneered, "I did always think that stutter was ridiculous."
"Yes, who would have suspected p-p-poor st-t-t-stuttering Professor Quirrell." His voice had taken on a mocking tone, "I should have done something about you. I knew you were a danger right from the start, after your little escapade on Halloween."
"So, you did let the troll in."
"Very good Potter, yes. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. While everyone else was running about the dungeon he went to the third floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again. He rarely left me alone, but he doesn't understand. I'm never alone, never."
Harry let out a pained gasp as Quirrell turned to face the mirror, raising a hand to his forehead. Jon took the chance to slip his wand into his hand from where he had tucked it up his sleeve. If Quirrell wanted to be cliché and tell them his master plan, Jon would get the drop on him.
"Now, what does this mirror do?" Quirrell continued monologuing, Jon almost rolled his eyes. "I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone, but how do I get it?"
"Use the boy." The voice echoed around the room. Had it come from Quirrell?
Quirrell twisted back round to face them, pointing at Harry. "Come here Potter, now!"
Harry's eyes narrowed, "I don't think I will."
"Do as you're told, boy!" Quirrell's face contorted in anger.
"Let me speak to them." The voice echoed again, its sibilant whisper sending a shiver down Jon's spine.
"Master, you are not strong enough." Quirrell's voice was suddenly submissive, as if faced with a much greater power, and there was only one person he had referred to as master.
"I have strength enough, for this."
Moving slowly, Quirrell delicately unwrapped the turban he wore around his head, until the face of Lord Voldemort was visible in the surface of the mirror. He looked disgusting, writhing on the back of Quirrell's head like a parasite.
"Harry Potter." Voldemort hissed, "We meet again."
"Voldemort." Jon spat the name like it was poison, his hatred bubbling to the surface.
"Ah, the brother. Yes, you see what I've become, see what I must do to survive. Live off another, a mere shadow of what I once was. Unicorn blood can sustain me but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can. You must only help me retrieve it. Block the exit." At Voldemort's command, Quirrell summoned a wall of fire to block the way they had come. Jon's heart beat faster, adrenaline flooding his body. "Don't be a fool. Why suffer a horrific death, when you can join me and live?"
"Never!" Harry yelled, fire in his voice.
"Hah, bravery. Your parents had it too. Tell me, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together, we can bring them back. All I ask is for something in return."
Jon seethed, how dare that monster speak of his parents.
"There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we'll do extraord –"
"Incendio!" Jon yelled, shooting a ball of white-hot flame at Quirrell, who barely managed to move aside. The Mirror of Erised wasn't so fortunate. The force of the fireball toppled the mirror, shattering its glass as the heat of the flame warped the golden frame.
"No!" Voldemort screamed in frustration, "Kill them!"
Quirrell threw a crimson spell at Jon. He dropped to the ground, moving too quickly to notice how the stone disintegrated on the wall behind him where the spell hit. Harry took Quirrell's attention with a powerful knockback jinx which Quirrell deflected, giving Jon enough time to scramble to his feet and send a severing charm to cut through the monster on the back of Quirrell's head.
It wasn't enough. Quirrell ducked out of the way and returned fire, the bludgeoning hex throwing Jon back into a wall; his wand flew from his grasp, leaving him defenceless. Jon gasped for breath, winded and slumped against the wall on the far side of the room. He coughed violently, spattering the ground in front of him with droplets of blood.
Harry screamed when his brother was tossed like a ragdoll across the room. He threw another knockback jinx, and again, but despite their abnormal strength both were blocked as Quirrell advanced. "Crucio!" There was no colour, just a ripple in the air as the torture curse struck Harry sending him to the floor. He screamed, his body convulsing as his nerves were shredded.
Jon's eyes were blurry and his lungs burning, but the sound of his brother's torture pierced his foggy mind. Anger, hot and fierce, built inside of him. His brother was in pain, someone was hurting him. Jon reached out his hand, "Accio wand." He felt a pull within him as his wand shot across the room and into his palm.
"Depulso!" The spell hit Quirrell like a train, slamming him into a pillar with a satisfying crack. Jon looked into Quirrell's glassy eyes and watched as his mouth leaked blood, forming a pool of red around his still form. He was dead.
Dragging himself to his feet, Jon staggered over to his brother. Harry's muscles twitched with the after effects of the torture curse, but his chest rose and fell with steady breaths. Jon let out a sob of relief, barely holding himself together.
A high-pitched hiss echoed around the room, filling Jon with dread. Black smoke rose from Quirrell, twisting around itself like a snake in its death throes, slowly forming the face of Lord Voldemort. The evil spirit swept across the room, tearing through Jon. He let out a wordless scream of pain as the last of his energy was ripped from him. He collapsed, the world fading to black.
"Two students almost died, Albus. The Weasley boy's leg was snapped. How did we let this happen?" McGonagall paced in the Headmaster's office, her fury filling her with nervous energy.
Dumbledore suppressed a sigh as he rubbed his temples. He had been a fool. The summons to London had come, claiming that the Wizengamot session to vote on the muggle rights bill had been moved up. After spending a year supporting the bill, Dumbledore simply couldn't allow the vote to occur without his presence. It was only after the doors had been sealed and the debates began that he realised his mistake; what he had left unsupervised in his haste. By the time Dumbledore flooed into his office, a Professor had been killed and three students lay in the Hospital Wing.
Of course, Dumbledore knew Quirrell carried Voldemort on the back of his head. It had always been Quirrell's fate to die. Harry Potter was the true concern. The boy was always meant to go after the Stone, pitted against the Dark Lord only to be saved by Dumbledore himself. He had been setting Harry in Voldemort's path all year long, directing him through Hagrid and a few minor compulsion charms. It hadn't taken much work; the boy was naturally curious and was inclined to help those he considered his friends.
"I have made a grave error, my dear Minerva. I never should have brought the Philosopher's Stone here." Certainly not the real one anyway, Voldemort had come far too close to acquiring the stone. Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, allowing the effects of the headache relief potion to take effect.
McGonagall gave him a look of sympathy, "I'll supervise the deconstruction of the protections."
"Thank you, my dear. I shall handle the Ministry and report the fate of poor Quirinus."
McGonagall left with a respectful bow, leaving Dumbledore to consider what he would share with the Aurors. It would have to be spun in such a way to omit both Voldemort and the involvement of the children. The Weasley parents would do as he asked, they had long been supporters of his. The Granger girl was muggleborn; even if she was to tell her parents what occurred they would be easy to dismiss. It was times like these that the deaths of James and Lily Potter were a relief. Orphans were simple to control, especially when the school was a haven from a difficult home life.
With the Ministry in hand, there was only one other that Dumbledore had to deal with. Nicholas Flamel. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince Nicholas that the Stone was in danger in the first place. Even after Dumbledore had leaked the location of the Flamel Estate to Voldemort, Nicholas had gone to Gringotts before entrusting it to him. The Mirror of Erised had served as the access point to the dimensional pocket that hid the Stone, but with the mirror destroyed there was currently no way to retrieve it. He would have to tell Nicholas that the source of his immortality was gone. His friend and once mentor would die, but sacrifices had to be made in the name of the Greater Good.
Despite the loss of the Stone, the end result was a workable one. Though Harry's exposure to the torture curse was unfortunate it would do no long-term harm, and ultimately it would only build the martyr's attitude that Harry would need when the time came. Because, come the end of the story, Harry Potter would have to die.
Jon's mind took time to come back to consciousness. He felt like he was moving through water, his head was heavy and his body stiff. Slowly, Jon manoeuvred himself into a sitting position.
"Stay still, Potter. Here." The matron, Madam Pomfrey, pushed a vial into his hands and helped him raise it to his lips. The potion tasted disgusting but gave immediate relief, relaxing his body and easing his headache.
"Thank you." Jon croaked, "Where's Harry? Is he okay?"
Pomfrey passed him another vial, "He's in the bed next to you, he's still asleep. A nasty bit of cruciatus exposure, but he's been given pain relief potions and he'll sleep off the rest. I expect he'll be awake in the next few hours."
Jon swallowed the potion, the last of his own pain fading away. "Thank you. What about Hermione and Ron?"
"Miss Granger was physically fine, she only required rest. Mr Weasley had a broken leg, but it was easy enough to fix. He was released the next day with not even a limp." Pomfrey kept moving as she spoke, putting the empty vials away and retrieving a bundle of clean clothes with Jon's wand on top. "You, Mr Potter, have been here for two days. You used too much magic. You're free to go, but refrain from performing any magic for the next few days." Pomfrey stepped past the privacy curtain surrounding his bed, leaving Jon to get dressed in privacy.
Jon slid out of bed, his body protesting at so much movement after so long in bed. A wave of nausea hit him, planting him back on the bed with a thump. It seemed even magical medicine wasn't infallible. Eventually the feeling passed, and Jon was able to get his feet under him.
Harry lay still, as pale as the white sheets he was tucked under, his dark hair falling about his face which only further pronounced just how pale he was. His breathing was so shallow that you would be excused for thinking he had passed away in his sleep. Jon took the seat at Harry's bedside, intending to watch over his brother that looked so frail and vulnerable.
"Ah, I see you are awake." Dumbledore stood at Jon's shoulder, the picture of a wise elder.
"Hello, Headmaster."
"I have been informed by your friends that you both acted with courage and bravery in defence of the Stone. For that you have my thanks. Though they only know part of the tale, from you I would hear the rest." Dumbledore summoned a plush armchair across from Jon with an elegant flick of his wand.
Jon thought for a moment, "After Ron was hurt getting us across the chessboard, Harry and I went on alone." Jon spoke, detailing their solving of the potion riddle and their confrontation with Quirrell and Voldemort. "I killed him, sir. But Voldemort lived, he left Quirrell's body in the form of a wraith and the last thing I remember is that thing hitting me. He escaped, didn't he?"
Dumbledore leant back in his chair, nodding sagely. "Yes. Voldemort left the castle before I had returned, fleeing into the night." Dumbledore looked relaxed in his chair, but his eyes were sharp as ever, "How are you coping with taking the life of another? The troll was a creature, but now you've killed another, a person."
Jon tensed, his heart pumping faster. Dumbledore might punish him, lock him up and take away his wand. He had to play the innocent, and convincingly. Jon cleared his mind, and pushed thoughts and feelings of guilt to the forefront, burying his hatred. "I – I don't know, sir. It's all so much. He was torturing my brother, I just wanted to get him away." Jon's voice broke as tears gathered in his eyes. He was the picture of a distressed child.
"You performed admirably, better than many your age could have. Though the Stone was lost, it remains out of Voldemort's reach. You did well." Dumbledore spoke, softly, "Today is the day of the Leaving Feast and tomorrow the Hogwarts Express will return you to London. Your aunt and uncle shall be waiting on the muggle side of the station to collect you."
Jon's jaw dropped. He was sending them back to the Dursley's. "Please, sir, there must be somewhere else! Couldn't we stay here? Or go back to the Leaky Cauldron?"
"I'm afraid not. There are powerful protections around Privet Drive, kept strong by the bond of blood that you share with your aunt and cousin. You must return there." Dumbledore's tone was that of a grandfather scolding an impudent child. "Hagrid has made me aware of the living conditions you faced there, and I have since spoken to the Dursleys. You will be given a bedroom for the both of you to share and fed three meals a day."
For a moment, Jon considered telling Dumbledore about the Potter Mansion and asking to go there, but it was obvious that the decision had already been made. "Yes, sir." Jon gave in, hanging his head so Dumbledore couldn't see the angry scowl that had forced its way on to his face.
"Good lad. Now, I do believe your friends shall be arriving shortly. Have a good summer."
"Yes, sir. You too, sir." Jon spoke as calmly as possible. Dumbledore's last comment was almost mocking to Jon's ear, but he kept his gaze firmly to the floor as Dumbledore vanished his chair and left the Hospital Wing.
Frustration burned in Jon's chest. After all they had done, all they had survived, they were to be shipped back to hell on earth, albeit under better circumstances. No doubt Vernon wouldn't wait long before trying to pull them back under his control, no matter what Dumbledore had said. They would need to have a plan. Vernon considered himself a businessman, so perhaps a deal could be made? In exchange for privacy, a promise to keep all 'freakishness' restricted to their bedroom.
The doors to the Hospital Wing swung open and two familiar faces entered. "Jon!" Hermione's happy greeting wiped all thoughts of the Dursleys from his mind. He let out a grunt as Hermione slammed into his chest, hugging him as if she expected him to disappear any moment. "Oh, I'm so glad you're okay. I heard such terrible noises and I wanted to help but I couldn't leave Ron behind and you told me to wait for a teacher but I was so worried and – "
"Hermione! Too tight." Jon gasped out. Hermione blushed a bright red as she let him go, stepping back. "I'm glad you're okay too. How's the leg, Ron?"
Ron grinned, "Not too bad. Pomfrey had me fixed up in no time." Ron's eyes found Harry and the smile slipped from his face.
"Jon, what exactly happened down there?" Hermione asked tentatively.
Jon sighed, running a hand back through his hair as he retook his seat beside his brother. "Both of you grab a chair, it's a long story." Once again Jon recounted his story, though this time to a much more attentive audience who cheered and gasped in all the right places.
"So, You-Know-Who's still out there?" Ron asked, eyes wide.
"Yeah, and we've beat him twice now. Two kids. Next time he'll be gunning for us."
"We'll just have to stick together." Harry croaked. His voice was quiet and hoarse, and his eyes were barely open, but he was awake.
The trio of happy greetings were loud enough to bring the matron from her office. Though Pomfrey quickly shooed them from the room to check on her patient, Harry's words had their desired effect. The three Gryffindors left with smiles on their faces and the world became just a bit less bleak.
Jon sighed and shifted again in his seat, trying to prop up his book and remain in a comfortable position. The others in the compartment barely spared him a glance, absorbed in their own activities as they were. Like him, Hermione had her nose buried in a book, while Ron played a game of chess against the combined skill of Harry and Neville. The Hogwarts Express was making its way steadily south to London and had been for a number of hours. The mountains of Scotland had long since been left behind, replaced with the rolling fields of northern England.
The Leaving Feast the previous night had been a joyous affair. Gryffindor had won the House Cup quite spectacularly with some last-minute points from Dumbledore, placing them just ahead of Slytherin who had thought their overall victory assured when they had dominated the Quidditch Cup. Though it pleased his housemates, Jon felt nothing but frustration. The glint in Dumbledore's eye as he had raised his glass to the Gryffindors gave him away. The points were to buy their gratitude, to do away with any ill will that had grown from being sent back to Privet Drive, not to reward their efforts in protecting the Stone.
Just thinking of Privet Drive had Jon shifting in his chair again, glaring at the pages of the book he hid behind. He had grown used to the relative freedom that Hogwarts provided, the thought of returning to the cupboard built a tension in his chest so strong that he thought he might explode. There was no real guarantee that Vernon would keep his promises to Dumbledore. He was a petty, vindictive man, and they hadn't left on the best of terms. The only thing greater than Vernon's spite was his fear of all things abnormal, but that would only provide a deterrent for so long. Something would have to be done.
"Jon, you've been staring at that page for ages. Are you stuck on something?" Hermione's voice cut into his dark musings. She was looking at him with concern in her eyes, as if she had some inkling that the problem was greater than the textbook he held in his hands.
"No, sorry, I'm fine thanks. It's just weird to be heading home after all that's happened this year."
Hermione gave him a nod and a sympathetic smile, "Yes, it is all rather a lot. Even by the magical world's standards our year has been out of the ordinary. I don't know how I'll explain it all to my parents. In fact, I might keep most of it to myself."
"That's probably a good idea, you don't want them freaking out. Do you have any plans for your summer?" Jon closed his book with a thud, setting it aside.
"Well, usually we don't go out of the country, but this year my parents want to take me to France. We're going to Paris to see all the sights, and there's a whole list of museums that we're going to visit. Oh, I'm so excited, I think it'll be such fun!"
Eventually the boy's chess match came to an end and they too joined the conversation, sharing how they planned to spend their holidays. Neville talked passionately of all the new species of plants he was going to cultivate, and Ron had a happy smile as he recounted past summers full of 3 a-side Quidditch with his brothers. Conversation passed the time too well, and before they knew it the train was pulling into King's Cross station. The group gathered their belongings and stepped out onto the busy platform, into the crowds beyond.
"There's my family there." Ron said with glee. The rather large gathering of gingers was quite hard to miss. "I'd best go join them, have a good summer!" The group chorused a goodbye, as Ron took off to join his family.
Neville found his grandmother next. She was quite a tall woman, thin and bony in a way that reminded Jon rather of Petunia, but unlike her in every other way. Even in a rather ridiculous looking vulture hat and clutching a bright red handbag, she gave off an air of dignity and poise. Her sharp eyes caught Neville and immediately she made her way towards them.
"Gran, it's lovely to see you." Neville greeted her. His back was stiff and straight though his eyes were fixed firmly to the ground. "May I introduce my friends; Jonathon Potter, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger."
"James and Lily's boys. I don't recognise your name, Miss Granger." Madam Longbottom fixed Hermione with her piercing gaze.
"Um, that's because I'm a muggleborn, ma'am." Hermione said, trying not to fidget.
"Ah. It's good to see Neville has made some friends. Come, Neville, your Uncle Algie is waiting for us at the manor."
"Yes, Gran. Have a nice summer you three." Neville picked up his case and followed his gran into the crowd.
The platform slowly emptied as the majority of families disappeared into fireplaces or apparated away, until only those students that had to enter muggle London queueing to safely use the portal. Only so many people could go through at a time, so as not to make the muggles suspicious with a sudden flood of people appearing out of nowhere. A rather bored looking Ministry of Magic employee regulated access.
"You're next, kid. You'll be going in a minute." The employee said through a yawn as Hermione reached the front of the line.
Hermione set her case down, and turned to the Potter boys behind her. "I'll miss you both terribly. Promise me you'll write over the summer? And you've got my phone number if Hedwig gets tired or if you want to talk, or –"
"Yes, Hermione!" Harry interrupted, a fond smile on his face.
"We'll keep in contact, I promise." Jon added.
"That's you, kid." Hermione pulled both Potters into a fierce hug, before spinning round and disappearing through the portal.
Before too long Jon and Harry followed Hermione through the portal. Dumbledore had told them that Vernon would meet them at the entrance to King's Cross station, and right enough their uncle was there waiting. He looked no different than he did when they had last saw him, down to the purple hue his face took on when he was in a rage. That didn't bode well. Still, they hefted their trunks and fought through the crowd to reach him.
"Hi, Uncle Vernon." Jon could already tell; this summer would suck.
A/N
So ends year 1. Hopefully, the rest of this story will be a bit more consistent, and not have a year long hiatus in the middle. Thanks to those that came back to read more, and those that just gave it a try in the first place.
Also, it's worth noting here, Jon doesn't have occlumency strong enough to fool Dumbledore. Dumbledore just saw what he wanted to see; another case of the Potters being underestimated.