Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 30: Final Exam (pt 2)
It had felt so ... right. That was the worst thing about it to Hermione. She and Neville had talked just that afternoon with Harry about the Third Floor corridor and the Philosopher's Stone and about how important it was to keep an eye on Jim and Ron and make sure they didn't do anything foolish. They'd even stayed up in the common room a few hours after curfew talking in case the two tried to sneak by. But instead, Jim and Ron just walked boldly up to them right before midnight to tell them that Dumbledore had been lured away, that Snape was going to steal the Stone that night, that no one would listen to them, and that their only chance was to steal the Stone themselves before Snape got to it. And suddenly ... it felt right.
Not that bit about Snape, of course. Hermione trusted Harry's judgment on that score, and she agreed with him that Quirrell was likely the culprit. Nevertheless, it suddenly felt right to think that whoever the thief was, no one else would be able to stop him except a quartet of First Year students who didn't know any major combat-related spells more powerful than the Leg-Locker Curse ... that Quirrel himself had taught them! But none of that mattered, because trying to stop him was right, and everything else would take care of itself.
Jim's invisibility cloak was a tight fit, but they all made it to the Third Floor without incident. The Cerberus was still waiting, albeit a little groggy looking. She'd noticed a small harp lying on the ground nearby, but Jim was already on the case. Apparently, Hagrid has accidentally revealed to him that music could put the hound to sleep, which Jim did with a handmade flute the half-giant had given him for Christmas. The trapdoor was already open, but Neville stopped everyone from proceeding as he took a big sniff from the musty room below. Immediately, he informed the group that the room below was full of Devil's Snare, a dangerous carnivorous plant that killed by crushing its prey but which was extremely vulnerable to fire. Neville went first and used the Bluebell Flame Charm to clear a path for everyone else.
Jim's Seeker skills made short work of the Key Room, but Hermione thought it was odd that someone would design a defense for the Stone that could only be overcome by exemplary Quidditch skills. Something about it seemed ... not quite right, but she shook off her concerns as they made it through to the next room which contained a giant Wizard's Chess board. That seemed even less right to Hermione, but she saw no options but to play. There was a moment of terror when Ron chose to sacrifice the knight he was riding in order to ensure a quick victory. She screamed as the other piece charged towards him, but at the last second, Neville cast the Levitation Charm on Ron, lifting him out of the way of the attacking piece and setting him down gently by the side of the board.
"Well done, Neville," she'd said excitedly.
"Yeah!" he replied in excitement. "And I didn't even set him on fire!"
"Wait, WHAT?!" exclaimed Ron. "Was that a thing that might have happened?!"
"Um, never mind," said Hermione quickly. "Forget he said anything. Jim, take the king so we can get out of here."
He did, and the quartet proceeded on through the next room and its already incapacitated troll to what Hermione thought was the penultimate room. Hermione easily solved Snape's logic puzzle, but even as she did, she had to push down the growing feeling of not right, indeed quite possibly wrong that was beginning to worry her. What also worried her was that there was only one potion to go forward and one to go back, which mean that two people would apparently be stranded in this room until help arrived ... which might be a while since they hadn't bothered to tell anyone where they were going, something that Hermione suddenly thought was quite out of character for her and very wrong indeed. But before she could go any farther to articulate that thought, Jim distracted her with an observation about the potion vials.
"Hang on a minute. These are auto-refilling vials. My dad carries a set of these. Aurors use them in the field to carry healing potions and the like. When you've completely emptied one, they refill a minute or two later with more of the potion that gets summoned from a central reservoir at DMLE headquarters."
"That makes sense," said Neville. "It wouldn't do for a thief to figure out how to get past those flames and leave no way for a pursuer to go after him. Besides, if Quirrell or Snape or whoever has already been this way, then he must have used the right potion but none of them are empty. So who's going first?"
"Me," said Jim somberly. "This ... this is my job. It always has been. Once I go through, I want each of you to take turns using the other potion to get out of here and bring help. If I can't figure out how to beat Snape," he glanced at Hermione and Neville, "or maybe Quirrell, I guess, it's up to you to get the other teachers down here."
He downed the potion and went through the black flames. None of the others made any move towards the potion that would allow passage back through the purple flames. After a minute, the potion vial Jim had emptied refilled itself. Ron picked it up and said, "You two can do what you want, but Jim's my friend and he's not facing ... whoever is in there alone." He took the potion, tossed the empty vial to Neville, and went through the black flames.
Neville looked back at Hermione with an anguished expression. She put her head in her hands while trying to fathom how they'd gotten themselves into this position, but thinking about that too much made her head hurt. After a few seconds, she looked up at the sound of Neville guzzling down the potion to go forward. Then, he put the empty vial back on the rack, picked up the vial to go back, and placed it in Hermione's hands.
"Go back, Hermione. You're the smart one. Get out of here and bring us some backup. I'll help Jim and Ron hold the fort as long as we can." Then, he hugged the girl before turning and running through the black flames leaving her alone. She stared at the flames for what seemed an eternity and then looked down at the potion in her hand, the one that would allow her to leave this place and summon help. She willed herself to open the stopper and do what she knew was the proper and sensible thing to do. She continued to focus on the potion in her hand for several minutes even after the vial the others had used refilled itself. But for all her will and intellect, she found herself completely unable to do the smart thing. Instead, she was compelled to do the right thing, and so she swapped the potion in her hand for the one Neville had just used and gulped it down without a thought. Pulling her wand, she darted through the flames, bolstered by the feeling that she was doing the right thing. It wasn't until she saw Professor Quirrell looking up at her smugly with the three Gryffindor boys bound at his feet that the realization of her absolute wrongness struck her like a thunderbolt.
Seconds later, Hermione too was bound alongside her house-mates. Then, Quirrell summoned the parchment that allowed her to communicate with Harry. "How does this work, Miss Granger?" he said almost mildly. She said nothing and just glared at him angrily. "Miss Granger, if I have to ask you a second time, it will only be after I've introduced one of your friends to the Cruciatus Curse. I'm sure your friend Mr. Longbottom has mentioned it. It's the curse that reduced his parents to semi-catatonic vegetables. Do you want me to ensure that Longbottom and his parents are reunited? Permanently?"
"Don't tell him anything, Hermione," said Neville firmly.
"Ah, Gryffindor courage. How predictably noble," Quirrel said with a smirk. Then, he pulled his wand out and pointed it at Neville's head.
"Stop!" exclaimed Hermione. "I ... I'll tell." And then she explained how the parchments operated.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. Oh, don't look so disappointed in your friend, Mr. Longbottom. I'm sure she believes that if I send a message to Potter Major, he, being a sensible young Slytherin, will go straight to a teacher. What Miss Granger fails to appreciate is the flaw in Potter Major's otherwise aggressively Slytherin nature – when his friends are in danger, he quite loses all sense of proportion. Isn't that right, Potter Minor?"
Jim gritted his teeth at the "Potter Minor" designation that reminded him of his second-born status. But after the events of Boxing Day, he knew Quirrell was right. If Harry thought one of his friends was in trouble, he could be as reckless as any Gryffindor. Quirrell idly conjured a chair, sat down, and began sending messages, presumably to Harry. Then, after a few minutes, he pocketed the parchment and pulled out a pocket watch.
"Twenty minutes. Then, we'll see just how much Gryffindor spirit Harry Potter has in him." With a casual wave, he added gags to the bonds on the four students, and then, he closed his eyes, almost as if napping. The children struggled but were not able to break the magical bonds that held them. After a lengthy interval, Quirrell opened his eyes and checked his pocket watch again. "Hmm, it seems Mr. Potter is more Slytherin than I thought," he said, banishing the chair as he moved towards the bound children. "Or perhaps simply not as clever. So how should I motivate him, I wonder? As I understand it, Potter Major cares little for his brother and less for Mr. Weasley. That leaves you, Miss Granger, and you, Mr. Longbottom." With a flick of his wand, he removed the gags from the four children. "Now, who wants to scream first?"
Before any of the Gryffindors could respond, a commanding voice cried out from the staircase that led down into the room. "QUIRRELL! I'm here. You can stop acting like a villain from some Muggle comic book."
Quirrell whirled about to face Harry Potter in surprise. For a second, Hermione was confused, as it looked more like Jim instead of Harry who had entered the room. Then she realized – this was the first time since September that she'd seen him in casual attire and without Sleekeazy in his hair.
"Mr. Potter! And just in the nick of time!" said Quirrell confidently.
"Yes, I heard your evil gloating as I was coming down the stairs. Very spooky." Quirrell glowered at the boy who was suddenly grateful for his limited Occlumency training. Without it, he'd be having another panic attack right now, like the one in Snape's classroom except out loud this time. Instead, he was able to suppress his instinct to curl up into a tiny whimpering ball and project the same confidence he displayed in the Prince's Lair back when dealing with Draco. "Tell me, Professor Quirrell," he continued, hoping to keep the man's attention on him. "It's just us now, so we can be honest with one another. What in Merlin's name happened to you? All the upper year students I spoke to who remember you do so fondly. A kind, intelligent man who'd obtained a Mastery in the field of Muggle Studies, one who was respected by his students and his fellow teachers. Now, you're a cackling villain who talks of torturing children to get your way."
Quirrell laughed cruelly. "I left Hogwarts for a year's sabbatical before taking a turn as the Defense instructor. Still so young and foolish I was, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Then, I found him – my master. He showed me the truth of the world, showed me how wrong I was. There is no good or evil. There is only..."
"Power," interrupted Harry. "Power and those too weak to understand it. Yes, I am familiar with that quotation. It was in Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and was first attributed to the Dark Lord Emeric who ravaged Britain in the 14th Century. And yet somehow, Emeric's words didn't stop people from calling him Emeric the Evil." Harry snorted almost contemptuously at Quirrell. "It's kind of funny, actually, that your master patterned himself on one of the few Gryffindors who became a dark lord. That actually explains a lot of his bad habits. Incidentally, did your master ever mention to you that those words were part of Emeric's final statement just moments before his execution?"
Quirrell found himself taken aback by the boy's eerily calm demeanor as well as his knowledge of dark matters. Then, a rasping, sibilant voice echoed around the room. "Enough talk. Get the Stone! Usssse the Boy!" The four bound Gryffindors looked around wildly at the menacing voice, and Harry stiffened at the sound.
Quirrell gestured angrily towards him. "Come here, Potter!"he spat. Harry slowly walked towards Quirrell and the Mirror. His plan at the moment was to look into the Mirror, hope that he could resist its power now that he knew how it worked, and then spin a bunch of lies to keep Quirrell and his "master" occupied until grownups showed up. Unless no grownups showed up ... in which case he and all his friends would die and he would make a point of haunting Olivia Kolumbiko and Rodney Montague for the rest of their lives.
But as he moved next to Quirrell and looked into the cursed Mirror, Harry was surprised to see that the image was not he was expecting. His heart's desire no longer reflected him as a loving and loyal member of the Potter clan. Instead, the image was a reflection of his current self sitting comfortably on the Hydra Throne which now recognized him as Prince. The mirror version of Harry looked down at the real version with regal confidence ... that suddenly broke into a mischievous smirk. Then, Delilah, whose head had been outside of the Mirror's frame, twisted into view with a large crystalline stone in her mouth. She dropped the stone into Mirror-Harry's waiting hand and hissed a coquettish laugh. Mirror-Harry slipped the Philosopher's Stone into his trouser pocket and winked ... and Harry's own trouser pocket suddenly bulged as new weight was added to it. Harry's eyes widened.
"They hid the Stone in the Mirror in such a way that only someone who didn't actually want to possess it could draw it back out again," he thought in wonder. "And it never occurred to them that Quirrell might force an unwilling hostage to help him?! I've got morons on my team!"
Quirrell must have noticed Harry's response. "What is it, Potter? What do you see?" he asked angrily.
"Um, I see myself. Dumbledore is, uh, shaking hands with me. I've won the House Cup." Inside, Harry was cringing. Usually, he was a much better liar than this, but he was so startled to have the object of Quirrel's desire suddenly dumped into his pocket that he froze and simply couldn't come up with anything convincing. He wasn't the only one who noticed.
"He liessss!" exclaimed that terrible hissing voice.
"Oh well, it was worth a try," thought Harry. Then, in a fluid motion, he popped out his wand, whirled it towards Quirrell's head, and yelled "SONOROUS!" as loudly as he could, making sure to emphasize the first syllable. The same high-pitched shriek that earned Harry his first detention erupted once more. The bound Gryffindors winced in pain, while Quirrell nearly doubled over, as Harry backed as quickly as he could towards the stairs.
"Stop him you fool!" cried the awful voice, and despite his pain, Quirrell sent a Banishing Charm in Harry's direction. It caught the boy with such force that he twisted around in midair and landed painfully face down on the floor. Then, Quirrell snapped his fingers, and a barrier of flame rose up at the top of the stairs, blocking Harry's escape.
"Pitiful child! Did you really you could strike me down with a weak attack like that?!" snarled Quirrell in anger.
Slowly, Harry rose with his back to the older wizard. "No," he coughed. "I really just wanted to make sure that you knew I could cast the Glass-Shattering Curse." As he spoke, he whirled around to face his enemy with his wand in one hand, its tip resting against the (fake) Philosopher's Stone that he held in the other. "Now, Professor, I believe you said earlier that it was time we had a chat. So ... let's chat. Otherwise, I shatter the Philosopher's Stone into a million pieces."
"You insolent BRAT!" screamed Quirrell. "Give me that Stone or I swear you and your friends will die in AGONY!"
"Oh will you SHUT UP, already!" yelled Harry right back. "I swear you were less annoying when you were stuttering! You have nothing to offer me now except threats to kill us all, and since you were going to kill us all anyway, those don't frighten me." Harry snickered almost contemptuously. "Besides, as a famous Muggle by the name of Winston Churchill once said: 'Never talk with a monkey when the organ-grinder is in the room.' So zip it, and let your master speak."
Quirrell growled, but then the unearthly voice spoke up again. "Let me ssspeak to the boy."
"Master," said Quirrell nervously. "You are not strong enough."
"I am ssstrong enough for thisss." And with that, Quirrell straightened and began to unwrap the turban atop his head. Harry steeled himself for the sight of what, months earlier he'd imagined as a "doom pimple." The reality was far worse. As the last of the wrappings fell away, Voldemort was revealed, a wrinkled hideous face of pure malice and hate, grafted onto the back of Quirrell's bald skull and reflected in the Mirror. Harry risked a quick glance at Voldemort while the Dark Lord's eyes were still unfocused. Then, he fixed his gaze on Quirrell's chest, focused on his limited Occlumency training, and resolved that, no matter what, he would not meet Voldemort's gaze. His life and that of all of his friends depended on Voldemort not seeing into Harry's mind. For their part, the Gryffindors seemed to have been rendered speechless with horror. "Voldemort," Jim whispered in shock.
"Sssee what I have become, Harry Potter. Sssee what your brother has done to me." hissed Voldemort.
"Are you expecting an apology? Besides, I don't plan to see any part of you. I know you're a Legilimens, so if it's all the same I'll just keep my attention on Professor Quirrell in case he tries anything we'll all regret."
"Ahh, you are indeed cunning, Harry Potter. Worthy of Slytherin House. And to think your foolish parents abandoned you to filthy Muggles and then rejected you again merely because of your Sssorting. Join me, Harry Potter. Sssit at my right hand and I will grant both vengeance against those have wronged you and powersss beyond your imagination."
"Really? Because, you know, I can imagine quite a lot of power," Harry said, giving every impression of seriously considering Voldemort's offer.
"Harry, you can't!" cried Hermione.
"Don't listen to him, Harry!" exclaimed Neville.
"I always knew you were a dark wizard, you snake!" yelled Jim.
Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes at Jim's idiocy. "Excuse me, will all the Gryffindors – and especially Jim – kindly shut up! The grownups are talking now!" Then, he turned his attention back to Quirrell while studiously avoiding eye contact with Voldemort. "Obviously, my lord, I would need some ... assurances," he said.
"Sssuch as..."
He took a deep breath and tried to think of something he could plausibly ask in order to keep Voldemort focused on talking instead of action. "Why did you attack Godric's Hollow on Halloween of 1981?"
Voldemort hesitated. "Why would the answer to that question constitute ... assurance?"
"Your actions that night have never made sense to me. You stunned James and Lily Potter and then tried to kill Jim. I can only assume that if you'd succeeded with him, you'd have killed me next. Certainly, I can't imagine any reason to go to such lengths kill one twin and leave the other alive, but it would definitely be reassuring if you could persuade me that you only want to kill Jim specifically and not me as well. Also, to be honest, that night marked the exact moment my life started to suck, so I think I'm entitled to know."
The Dark Lord laughed in a way that reminded Harry of Niddhogg. "You intrigue me, Potter. Very well. There wasss ... a prophecy..."
"What? What prophecy?" asked Jim in confusion.
Quirrell turned his head slightly, and Harry realized it was so that Voldemort could look at Jim. "They never even told you? How amusssing! 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the ssseventh month diesss...' That much of the prophecy was overheard by one of my Death Eaters and passed on to me."
"Which Death Eater?" Harry asked so he'd know who to kill later.
Voldemort laughed. "Your illustrious potions instructor, of course." Harry's blood ran cold at that. He'd had some professors he liked more than others, but Snape was the closest thing to a mentor he'd had. Off to the side, Hermione gasped in shock while Jim and Ron both cursed Snape's name. Neville made no sound, but a dark intensity came into his eyes. Voldemort ignored them all. As Harry had hoped, the Dark Lord couldn't resist a monologue.
"Initially, I wanted to pay a visit to St. Mungo's on August 1st and simply ssslay every child in the nursery, but sssome of my followers persuaded me that it would be ... counterproductive to commit violence on sssuch a ssscale. In time, I narrowed the potential candidates to you, your brother and the Longbottom Heir, but by then, both of your familiesss had already passed under the Fidelius Charm. I was quite harsh with those who persuaded me to delay. Luckily, just daysss before that fateful Halloween, a new recruit came to me and revealed that he was the Potter's Sssecret Keeper. The rest, as they say, is hissstory. I only refrained from killing your parents immediately because I feared there might be wards to detect the Killing Curse as there are here at Hogwarts and did not wish to alert Dumbledore prior to ssslaying you and your brother. Besides, they did defy me in the past, and I wanted them to live long enough to sssuffer from the knowledge that they had failed to protect their children. In any case, the events of that Halloween proved rather conclusively that Jim Potter is the one with the power to vanquish me. Doubtless, that wasss the reason your parents abandoned you in favor of him. You have nothing to fear from me, Harry Potter, and if you give the Stone to me, you will be well-rewarded."
Harry's mind churned at the implications of what Voldemort said. A prophecy? And Snape was the one who revealed it to Voldemort? And the Secret Keeper?
"Hang on a minute. The Secret Keeper came to you in late October? But Sirius Black's confession said that he'd served you secretly for years!"
"Sssirius Black?" Voldemort asked in what sounded like confusion. In fact, it sounded so much like confusion that Harry forgot himself and looked at Voldemort's face - and the Dark Lord did seem genuinely confused. Then, Harry realized that Voldemort and he were looking into each other's eyes. Then, he realized from Voldemort's expression of mounting fury that he had read Harry's mind and learned the Stone in his hand was a fake. And then, Harry did the only thing he could think of – he shot Quirinus Quirrell in the face with a round of fireworks.
"NOW!" he yelled over the loud popping and the sound of Quirrell's screams.
At that, Theo and Blaise darted around the giant mirror they'd hidden behind while Harry distracted Quirrell. Instantly, they fired off their strongest Finites at the Gryffindors whose bonds quickly evaporated. At their urging, Hermione, Neville and Ron ran for the stairs, the top of which was still on fire. Blaise and Theo followed them, but Jim, to Harry's surprise and consternation actually charged at Quirrell. At the last second (and with a loud "Kaai!"), he dropped and slid into Quirrell, kicking the man forcefully right on the side of the kneecap which then gave way with an audible snap, causing the man to fall to the floor with a scream of pain.
Atop the stairs, the other five students desperately cast the Water-Summoning Charm at the blaze, but the weak streams of water they produced were not enough to quench the fires. Then, Hermione turned to Neville.
"Neville! Remember what it was like the day you first tried the Levitation Charm with your father's wand! Remember how it felt ... like shoving your magic through a brick!"
Neville looked at Hermione in confusion for a second but then suddenly realized what she meant. He nodded, pointed at the flames and yelled "AGUAMENTI!" ... but without releasing the spell. Instead of a blast of water, there was a small blue sphere that materialized at the end of his wand, a bubble full of bubbling, frothing water. And as Neville's face contorted with pain, it slowly began to grow.
Down in the Mirror Chamber, Harry got over his surprise at Jim's martial arts antics and acted. "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Instantly, Quirrell's arms and legs locked together. Quirrell himself could no longer speak except to whimper in pain from the burns on his face and what was probably a dislocated knee, but Voldemort was still shouting invectives. With a sick feeling, Harry realized that they had no way to fight Voldemort if he abandoned his host and sought to possess someone else. "JIM! We have got to get OUT OF HERE!" he yelled.
Atop the stairs, Neville's legs were shaking and his vision was starting to blur, but at the tip of his wand was a bubble of water more than two feet across. Unable to contain it any longer, Neville released the overpowered spell and a massive flood of water poured out across the flames extinguishing them. The force of the water would have knocked Neville all the way back down the stairs had Ron, Theo and Blaise not caught him and supported him as he unleashed the spell. They were also able to catch him when his eyes fluttered and he passed out from the strain. Hermione darted down the stairs and screamed for Harry and Jim.
Down below, Harry had just grabbed hold of Jim (who had been reduced to the surprisingly effective habit of repeatedly kicking the prone Quirrell in the head) with the intention of physically dragging him from the room when a burst of concussive force erupted from the fallen man's body, knocking them both flat onto their backs. Quirrell's body then rose up into the air, and there was a painful crack as his arms forced themselves to splay out despite the paralyzing spell.
Quirrell screamed. "Master! NO! I have served you faithfully!"
"Worthless INSSSECT! An entire YEAR wasted on this fool's errand when the Ssstone was never even here at all! Now, sssuffer the price for your failure, Quirrell!"
Quirrell's head jerked to the right, and he screamed in agony. Then, it kept on turning. The scream abruptly stopped, replaced by the sound of breaking bones and snapping tendons as Quirrell's head rotated a full 180 degrees so that Voldemort's face was now the front. He gestured towards the stairwell and snarled "BOMBARDA!" Blaise narrowly managed to grab Hermione and drag her back up the stairs as the explosive curse struck the ceiling and caused it to collapse down and block the stairs. As he tried to shake off the pain, Harry could still hear Hermione calling his name. Then, he felt a powerful force lift him up off the ground and slam his body into a wall. From the sharp yelp of pain he heard, it seemed that his brother had been slammed against the wall right next to him.
"Wonderful. Jim and I get to die together. How ... poetic." Harry struggled against the force that constrained him as he realized that he and Jim were pinned against a wall and suspended several feet above the ground. Then, to his horror, he saw Voldemort still riding Quirrell's mutilated corpse and floating over to the two boys.
"A year wasted, and now I have but ssseconds before this body is ussseless to me. My spirit shall endure, though. I defy the Prophecy even as I defy Death itself. But before I lose corporeal form, I still have time enough ssslay the Boy-Who-Lived ... and his meddlesome brother too! You once resisted the Killing Curse, Jim Potter. Let us see if you are immune to a more conventional means of execution!"
With that, the Dark Lord grasped each Potter by the throat and began to choke the life out of them. The pain at Harry's neck was made worse by a sudden stabbing agony from the small scar on his brow, and he heard Jim scream in pain as well. The two boys both clawed feebly at the man's arms to no avail. Spots started to appear before Harry's eyes, and he grew dizzy. Then, out of instinct, Harry reached out with his hand and tried to claw at Voldemort's eyes. Jim did the same. As Harry's vision faded, he suddenly became aware of a faint sizzling sound, almost like bacon frying, followed instantly by an agonized scream. Then, unconsciousness claimed Harry Potter. His last coherent thought as he fell to the ground was the sensation of a powerful and malevolent force passing through his body on its way out of the room, a force that claimed the power to defy death and that hungered for revenge against both the Potter Twins. Then, nothing but darkness.
The next update will post on Friday, July 17 between 4 and 6 pm CST. "Questions, Answers, and Unexpected Profanity." If you were expecting this to be an "Evil Dumbledore" story, you may find yourself disappointed, because the Headmaster has finally had enough of James Potter's crap.