Hi everybody! Thanks for such great feedback. I'm glad you enjoyed the use of Norbert as a distraction. Kudos to everyone who picked up earlier in the story that Hagrid had a dragon running around with no one telling him it was a poor idea.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE POTION
Hermione, Harrison and Neville skidded to a stop outside the door to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Panting and winded from their mad dash up the stairs, they stood for a moment, trying desperately to catch their breaths.
Moments later, Professor Quirrell came scurrying down the corridor. His robes were singed, and he was out of breath. Harrison wondered what he'd had to do to make Hagrid's dragon go on a rampage.
"What are you t-t-three doing here?" Quirrell stuttered out as he came to a halt across the hall. "Don't you k-know it's forbidden?"
"We're just talking," Hermione offered. "It was getting really loud downstairs."
"Well, you should head up to your c-common rooms," Quirrell said. "The d-dragon has been properly contained."
"It looked like a pretty...vile creature," Harrison said, glancing pointedly at Hermione.
She stared at him for a moment, before deciphering his clue. She stepped closer to him and slipped the potion vial into his hand.
"Have you dealt with many dragons before, Professor?" Harrison asked.
"What? No, I haven't," Quirrell replied impatiently. His voice had changed significantly The stutter was gone, and his high-pitched breathy voice had lowered almost an octave. "If you three will excuse me, I have business to attend to."
Hermione stepped forward, directing Quirrell's attention away from the boys. "Please professor, I have a question about next weeks exams."
Quirrell barely refrained from rolling his eyes impatiently. "Really, Miss Granger, this is going to have to wait. I am extremely busy."
Harrison worked the cork out from the top of the vial. The plan had been to use a squirting bottle to disperse the potion evenly over the turban, but with such little time, and very few resources, he couldn't afford to be picky. The plan had gone to hell, and they had to keep up.
Hermione stepped sideways, making Quirrell turn his back to the boys, and it was at that moment that Harrison struck. He splashed the vial of shrinking potion onto the turban and then stepped back quickly.
Quirrell didn't even notice the effects of the potion, until he felt a tightening pressure around his forehead. The material squeezed tightly across his head, and he reached up, trying to worm a finger between the turban and his skin. He couldn't even get the tip of his finger under it.
Panicking, and in pain, he grabbed hold of the end of the turban and quickly began to unravel it, yelling in pain as the material shrunk more and more.
"What are you doing?" a raspy voice sounded.
The trio jumped back in fright. It had been one thing to have theorised about what was hiding beneath Quirrell's turban, and another entirely to have that theory confirmed.
"I'm sorry Master, something has gone wrong!" Quirrell simpered.
"Fool! You have exposed my glorious self!"
Quirrell cried out, and managed to get the last of the turban away from his head. The trio recoiled in disgust. There, on the back of Quirrell's head, was a hideous face. It was chalk-white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.
Its eyes took in the frightened faces of the three first years.
"Kill them," it ordered.
Hermione grabbed hold of Neville and Harrison's arms, and pulled on them. "Run!"
They ran. They could hear Quirrell lumbering after them. The raspy voice from behind Quirell was shouting for the professor to run faster. To catch them. To kill them.
They ran down the stairs, and before Quirrell realised what had happened, they were back in the Entrance Hall, surrounded by a lake of people. The Professors had re-entered the building, and had been trying to calm down the student body, offering reassurances that the dragon had been contained, and that this had been a one-off event.
Quirrell tried to skid to a halt, but it was too late.
Students started screaming, and as people realised what the commotion was about, everybody else joined in as well. The noise was a cacophony, echoing off the walls and bringing more people to see what was going on.
Quirrell stood in the centre of the Entrance Hall, students scampering out of his way as he brought his wand up, ready to attack. Out of options, Quirrell knew that there was very little he could do to contain the situation. The Stone was out of reach. He had failed his Master. No matter what happened now, he was dead.
All thanks to Potter.
"Stay back!" Quirrell demanded as teachers began moving forward. "I will kill every person here if you do not stay back!"
One of the teachers, Professor Flitwick, who'd been a duelling champion in his day, stepped forward, his wand ready. He shot a spell at Quirrell, but the Professor shielded handily, and sent a far more violent spell back at the diminutive Charms Master.
"Stay back!" Quirrell warned.
Several of the Professors pushed to the front of the crowd, using their bodies to protect the students. The pupils on the outer edge of the crowd carefully made their way towards the exits, several of the prefects manning the doors and ushering people out. It was one of the quietest and slowest stampedes in history.
"Give me Potter!" Voldemort yelled.
Harrison, lost in the slowly shifting crowd, flinched at the word.
"Where is he?"
The students came to a halt. The name was famous, the Boy-Who-Lived was a legend. But everyone knew that he hadn't shown up for the first of the year. Murmurings rippled over what was left of the lingering audience.
"Potter?" "Harry Potter?" "The Boy-Who-Lived?" "Quirrell's gone mental!" "You-Know-Who under the turban?"
"Get out here!" Voldemort yelled. "Face me like a man. Or are you too much like your father? Cowering behind his friends, begging for mercy?"
Harrison straightened indignantly. He'd never met his father, and hadn't thought too much about him, if he was going to be honest with himself. But the thought of having people believe his father was a coward was motivating him.
"No Harrison!" Hermione whispered softly.
"I have to," he said softly.
She looked him in the eyes, and saw his conviction to do this.
"You're a great wizard Harrison," she whispered softly.
Embarrassed, he looked away. "I'm not as good as you."
"Me? Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Like friendship and bravery...oh, Harrison, be careful!" She engulfed him in a tight hug, clinging wildly to him.
Harrison hugged her firmly, and took a deep and shaky breath.
She reluctantly let go him, and Harrison stepped out of the crowd, and into the empty space of the Hall. The buzz of voices began all over again. The name Harry Potter on every person's lips.
Harrison stood behind Quirrell. Face-to-face with Voldemort. His wand was in his hand, though against Voldemort, there wouldn't be much he could do. His most powerful spell was the stunner that Fred and George had taught him to duel Draco.
"Let me see it," Voldemort said. "Your famous scar."
Harrison ripped off his bandana and rubbed the powder off his forehead. He pushed aside the black scruffy hair that had grown back, and more gasps came from the surrounding crowd.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort said softly. "The Boy-Who-Lived. How clever of you, to expose me to the school. To ruin my plans for the Stone. I underestimated you."
"You're not getting anywhere near it," Harrison said.
"No. No, I don't believe so, either. No matter."
Quirrell lowered his wand to his side and took a step backwards, so that Voldemort was closer to Harrison.
"Tell me something, Potter. How did a defenceless babe obliterate the most powerful wizard in the world?" Voldemort asked softly. "What magic do you have? I will find it. And I will conquer it!"
Quirrell spun quickly, and thrust his hand, palm down on Harrison's lightning bolt scar. Harrison screamed, his head feeling as though it was about to explode. He fell to his knees, yelling wildly, and Quirrell did the same, clutching at his blackened palm, smoke wafting from the burns that had seemingly come from nowhere. Quirrell, not Voldemort, yelled out in pain.
"Master! It burns!" Quirrell cried.
"Cease your infernal whining Quirrell!" Voldemort ordered. "Do not let go!"
Quirrell obeyed, but howled loudly, his hand burning where his skin touched Harrison's.
The Boy-Who-Lived felt as though fire was being thrust into his scar, a burning stab of pain crippling him. Blindly, he reached up and grabbed Quirrell's bare wrist, and the both of them cried out in pain.
"What is this magic?" Quirrell cried, desperately trying to obey his Master, but feeling fire in every cell of his body.
Quirrell finally pulled back, his skin blackened where Harrison had touched. Harrison tried pushing to his feet, but he swayed dizzily. Quirrell forced himself to make a final grab for Harrison, but the boy inadvertently stumbled and managed to dodge the Professor. He ducked under Quirrell's outstretched arm, ending up behind the madman.
Harrison gripped his wand and shot a powerful stunning spell at Quirrell's back. The man was thrown five feet forward, and tumbled gracelessly to the ground.
In the confusion of the fall, Quirrell lost his wand, and Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and cast a silent spell at the duplicitous professor. Quirrell collapsed face down, his skin smoking from when he'd touched Harrison. The face on the back of Quirrell's head howled indignantly.
"I will never be killed!" Voldemort proclaimed. "I have gone further than any other to circumvent death. I shall have immortality. With or without that infernal Stone."
"For now, Tom, it will be without," Dumbledore replied wryly. And shot another spell at the red-eyed face.
Harrison wobbled on his feet and fell to his knees. Hermione raced to his side, and knelt beside him, her arm automatically reaching around his shoulders. She pressed her face to his shoulder, trying desperately to stop shaking. Harrison clutched her tightly, his head pounding, his vision blurry. The scar on his forehead was red, swollen and bleeding, looking minutes old, rather than decades.
"You were right," Harrison murmured.
"About what?"
"Voldemort. Under the turban," he replied. He huffed a tiny laugh. "What happened to no distractions before the exams?"
Hermione smiled. "I think Norbert took care of that."
Harrison chuckled. "Norbert."
The crowd, jolted out of their shock, began talking loudly once more. Harrison heard the dreaded title of "Boy-Who-Lived" being bandied about once more.
"So much for anonymity," he muttered.
Hermione chanced a look up, and found that all eyes were on Harrison. People were pointing and whispering to the people beside them. She found Neville standing nearby, glaring at the closest students.
"Let's get out of here," Hermione suggested.
"Infirmary," Harrison said. "My head is going to explode."
Hermione nodded and signalled to Neville, who began pushing his way through the crowd. Students reached out to try and touch Harrison, their hands tussling his unkempt hair, others gripping at his robes, others still touching his face. He kept his head down, and allowed Hermione to guide him through until they were finally out of the reach of the students.
Neville led the way to the infirmary where Madame Pomfrey was attending to Ron Weasley, who's hand seemed to have swelled up to twice its usual size.
"Bitten by a dragon," Madam Pomfrey tutted. "What was Hagrid thinking?"
Ron was whimpering and keeping a tight hold of his arm above the bite marks.
Hermione and Neville helped Harrison into a bed as far away from Ron as possible. Hermione hovered uneasily until the nurse was done with Ron. She curbed the urge to pull Madame Pomfrey along by the wrist to hurry her trip across the ward.
"What's happened here?" the woman asked. Her eyes found the bleeding red scar on Harrison's forehead, and she looked at him in surprise. "I'd forgotten about that. What on earth happened?"
"It's a long story," Hermione hedged.
"Professor Quirrell was being possessed by Voldemort, and when Quirrell touched Harris, they both started screaming in pain. Quirrell's hand started burning, and Harrison said his head felt like it was going to explode," Neville summed up.
"Apparently not that long," Hermione muttered.
Madame Pomfrey took a moment to digest the news. The idea of Professor Quirrell being possessed did explain a lot about the man's behaviour. She walked to her cabinet of potions and picked up a powerful headache reliever. She gave it to Harrison, who drank it gratefully. Moments later, the pounding in his head lessened to a manageable level. He sighed in pleasure.
Hermione grabbed hold of a damp cloth and laid it on Harrison's brow. He closed his eyes tiredly, and soaked in the cool cloth, and the soothing feel of Hermione's hand stroking his messy hair.
"You said it burned when he touched you?" Pomfrey asked.
Harrison opened his eyes and nodded, immediately regretting it when his headache reappeared momentarily. "Yes ma'am. I don't know why."
"Love," came a voice at the doorway of the infirmary.
The trio, and Madame Pomfrey turned to stare at Headmaster Dumbledore. He came closer and took up a position at the foot of Harrison's bed.
"If there is one thing that Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realise that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark," the headmaster explained.
Harrison was confused for a moment, and then realised that Dumbledore was speaking of Lily Potter, rather than Petunia Evans.
"Your mother sacrificed her own life for yours, literally throwing herself in front of you to save your life. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."
"What happens now? How will you get Voldemort out of Quirrell?" Harrison asked.
Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "I'm afraid that Professor Quirrell has perished. The strain of sharing a body with a disembodied spirit is quite taxing on a person. It seems as though they have been sharing a body for nearly a year. The longest I'd ever read about a spirit sharing a body prior to this was for five months. I can't imagine the stress it would have caused, sharing as he did for nearly twelve full months."
Harrison shook his head sadly. He hadn't had too much experience with death before this. Despite being orphaned, the reality of his biological parents deaths wasn't something he'd thought of prior to Hogwarts. He'd been raised by his mum, and that had been enough. He hadn't dwelt on the deaths of Lily and James Potter, and so didn't really understand death.
"Does that mean that Voldemort can't come back ever again? He didn't get the Stone, so, he can't become immortal," Harrison reasoned.
"Alas, no. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share...not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies."
"He nearly got the Stone tonight," Harrison said. "While everyone was distracted by that dragon, he was heading up to the third floor corridor."
"Where you, Miss Granger, and Mr Longbottom so handily distracted him," Dumbledore said. "With a shrinking potion applied to his turban, if I'm not mistaken. A fourth year potion."
The trio exchanged guilty glances.
"Quite excellent potions work, the lot of you," Dumbledore complimented. "Of course, I don't have to tell you that brewing out of lessons is discouraged."
The trio nodded unhappily.
"Discouraged, but not forbidden," Dumbledore said.
Hermione smiled happily. They weren't going to get expelled after all.
"And, as it happens, Professor Quirrell would not have been able to get the Stone, even if he were to pass all the barriers," Dumbledore said.
"Why not?" Neville asked.
"My dear students," Dumbledore said beatifically. "Why would I hide something so valuable in the very spot I told people I would hide it?"
Hermione giggled a little. Harrison shook his head in disbelief, and Neville slapped his forehead.
"So where did you hide it?" Harrison asked curiously.
"Originally, it was hidden in the Mirror of Erised, in the classroom I found you in that night just after Christmas break," Dumbledore replied.
"In the mirror?" Hermione asked.
"A rather ingenious piece of magic, if I do say so myself. Only those who wanted to find the stone, but not use it, would be able to retrieve it," the Headmaster explained.
"So why move it?" Neville asked.
"After you found the mirror, I realised that perhaps it would not be safe after all. So, I found a better hiding place."
"Where was it?" Hermione asked.
Dumbledore smiled, and put his hand into one of the myriad of pockets on his star-spangled robes. He pulled out a small blood-red stone.
"In my pocket."
Hermione smiled brightly. "Genius!"
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
Harrison shook his head, smiling, but inwardly astounded. After everything they had gone through to protect the Stone, and it hadn't even been in danger in the first place. His secret had been exposed to the school for nothing.
Then again, Voldemort was gone, and so was Professor Quirrell.
"Well, I'll let you get some rest, Mr Evans. I'd say you'll be needing it come tomorrow."
Harrison nodded. "Thank you sir."
The headmaster made his way out of the infirmary, and Madame Pomfrey returned to her office, leaving Hermione, Harrison and Neville on one side of the infirmary, and Ron Weasley on the other.
"What did I miss?" Ron called out
The trio just laughed.
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A/N: So, Harrison's secret is out, Quirrell's gone, and Dumbledore had the stone all along. Dumbledore knew that the trio would never go through those traps, cos they're not freakin' idiots. So, he kept it with him. After all, who the hell would have the audacity to look in big D's pockets?
Also, I hope that bit about Ron isn't taken as bashing. I've tried to just leave him out of it, but he was bitten in canon, so...why not?
One more thing, there's one chapter left, so this is not the end. I have started writing Second Year, but it may be awhile before anyone sees it. I'm in the process of looking for a new place to live, and it is seriously time consuming. Wish me luck!