Disclaimer – Everything you recognise belongs to JKR. All the rest is simply me playing in her sandbox.

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The Cupboard Under the Stairs

Chapter 21

Life inside the castle was far too busy over the next three weeks for anyone to even think about the world beyond Hogwarts.

The final week of lessons, much like the week before it, was pure revision. Every teacher in every subject piled their classes high with homework, both written and practical, essays and pop-quizzes. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall and Sprout also made sure to include time each lesson for their students to have any questions that they had answered.

And then came the exams.

Every day for the next two weeks, saw the first years bombarded with written and practical exams. Professor Sinistra, of course, held her Astronomy exams over an afternoon and evening.

Every waking moment that they weren't being tested, Harry, Hermione and Neville found their noses buried in books or else practising their spells in one of the unused classrooms. Occasionally, they met up with the rest of their study group, but found that they revised best when it was just the three of them.

Hermione insisted on having one of the two boys ask her every revision question at the back of each chapter in their text books the evening before each exam. While this annoyed Harry the first time she'd corralled him into the chore, he soon came to realise that it was one of the best ways to prepare for the subject.

Potions, as Harry'd expected, was a complete disaster. Both he and Neville were hissed at almost the entire time that they were working at their cauldron by Professor Snape. Afterwards, Harry judged that, while the potions that they created weren't the deep blue that they were supposed to be, his mid-range blue vial and Neville's light blue potion should be enough to see both of them pass. Assuming, of course, that Snape was willing to be fair.

The day after the first year's had finished their exams, when the fourth years and above were still being tested, their results were posted.

Hermione, as was only to be expected, had aced every test and was awarded as being the top student for every subject for their year level.

Harry, when he saw his results, almost fainted in astonishment. He'd missed out on the being the top of Defence Against the Dark Arts by a mere half a point. That DADA Outstanding, was joined by O's in Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology; Exceeds Expectations in Astronomy and History of Magic and most unbelievable of all, an Acceptable in Potions.

Neville, too, had done exceptionally well, managing a pass in potions, an O in Herbology and Exceeds in everything else.

The three of them celebrated by packing up a picnic and heading to the shore of the Black Lake where they were eventually joined by most of their study group. The fun and games lasted until nearly curfew, only pausing long enough for Lil, Susan, Hannah and Sally-Ann to duck off to find more food and extra jugs of pumpkin juice.

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There was a palpable air of excitement rampant in the Great Hall when Harry entered. The final day of the long three weeks of exams had finally arrived. Just that morning, the seventh years had had their last NEWT exam in the Great Hall, while the sixth years were completing their final test down in the potions dungeon.

Everywhere Harry looked, students sported identical grins to the one he himself wore. The tables were already laden with delectable delights that Hogwarts had conjured to help with the celebration. Every table was surrounded by students from a multitude of Houses as the party atmosphere prevailed.

Here and there, excited conversations were punctuated by the groans of students, who, after a comparison of answers with their fellow classmates, suddenly realised that they hadn't done as well as they would have liked on their final exams.

Harry took it all in from where he stood just inside the doors while he waited for his friends. After spending the morning down by the lake, they'd returned to the castle eager for lunch. But both Hermione and Neville had wanted to make a quick side-trip up to Gryffindor Tower first – Hermione to put the book that she'd been reading somewhere safe, and Neville to do the same with the small pot plant that Madam Sprout had given him to look after for the summer.

A flash of light in the corner of his eye, quickly followed by an enormous crack and the sounds of multiple voices screaming, spun Harry around.

Without a thought, he raced through the doors and into the castle's entry hall. The scene before him jerked him to a halt, but not before he'd finished sliding the last couple of feet. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of two of his teachers engaged in a ferocious duel.

Professor Snape, his black cloak billowing around him, spun, ducked and snapped out his wand. A vicious yellow light shot across the hall only to strike a loud gong as it impacted against the invisible shield that Professor Quirrel had erected.

"Is that the best that you can do?" Professor Quirrel laughed, his ever-present stutter miraculously missing.

With a snarl of rage, Snape stood tall and waved his wand in a flurry of different coloured spells at his opponent. Each one was blocked by a lazy flick of Quirrel's wand. Two ricocheted off, crashing into the stone walls, sending the nearby mesmerised students scurrying away with shrill cries of fear.

"I won't permit you to leave the castle with the Stone," Snape hissed through clenched teeth.

Once again, Quirrel merely laughed in response. "There's nothing that you can do to stop me! Dumbledore's not here and none of the rest of you are strong enough to oppose me."

This time, it was Quirrel that went on the attack. He advanced quickly across the floor towards Snape, his wand darting high and low with ominous spells that exploded around the beleaguered potions master. Snape back-peddled quickly, doing his best to block or evade.

The stone wall to his right exploded sending shrapnel every which way. When Harry once more looked after having had to shield his eyes, it was to see Snape's cloak nearly shredded with streaks of blood streaming down from cuts on both his face and his arm.

Harry had no idea what to think. Neither of these teachers were his favourites. In fact, if he'd ever considered the idea of the two of them duelling it out, he would have rooted for the option of the two of them taking each other out in the melee. But there was something different here. Snape seemed to be trying to protect something, a stone of some kind that Quirrel had that he was trying to steal.

Without even considering how stupid he was being, Harry took half a step forward and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Hey, Professor Quirrel!"

The unexpected distraction was almost enough. Quirrel jerked and looked around, but not before getting one last curse off. Snape, having had the presence of mind to not react Harry's yell, also managed to get an extra shot off before the world around him exploded.

Quirrel's last shot at Snape had gone slightly off course. Instead of impacting the shield that Snape had erected, it slammed explosively into the ground at his feet. Tiles and shards of stone erupted, sending Snape hurtling backwards through the air to slam with a sickening crunch into the far wall. His bruised and bloody body lay crumpled at the base of the wall, whether alive or dead was more that Harry could tell.

Snape's last curse also managed to score a hit, although this was just a glancing blow. Quirrel's jerk at Harry's yell pulled him just enough out of the way to allow the curse to merely impact on the ridiculous purple turban that Quirrel wore. It was torn from where it was mounted and sent flying away behind him.

The group of students on the far side of the hall screamed in terror. Looking past Quirrel's shoulder, Harry could see that they were all fixated on the back of Quirrel's head.

A sneer of contempt crossed Quirrel's face for a second before he dismissed Harry to see what had become of his opponent.

"Well, it seems as though you do have your uses, boy," Quirrel stated, turning back to Harry. "Your distraction was enough to allow me to finish off that insufferable know it all. Of course, if he had realised who he was in fact dealing with, well, let's just say that that duel was pointless in the extreme."

Wand raised, he turned in a circle, his calculating eyes obviously assessing those who stood in the entrance hall for any sign of a threat.

Harry, though, stood frozen as he finally saw what had horrified so many others. The back of Quirrel's head contained a face. A most hideous chalk-white face with the most evil red eyes that Harry'd ever seen and slits like a snake for a nose.

"So, Harry Potter, we meet again," the face rasped. "You see what you have done to me? You see what I've become because of you? You lost me my body, Harry Potter, the night that I tried to kill you. Your father died ever so easily. Your mother begged to join him. And then there was YOU! Because of you, I've been condemned to inhabit the lowliest of my servants, left to feed on the blood of unicorns just to survive! I've been reduced to the actions of a common theif by stealing the Philosopher's Stone in my quest for immortality. And you are the cause of it all! I think that it's high time that you paid!"

Even knowing that Quirrel was walking backwards straight towards him, Harry couldn't move. His feet were simply frozen to the floor in his fear. The face of his parent's killer, the face of Lord Voldemort, had him in his gaze and it wasn't letting go.

A hand reached out and grasped Harry by the neck, but surprisingly, it wasn't Harry who screamed in pain and terror. Instead, it was Quirrel.

"Master, it burns! His skin burns!"

"Leave Harry alone!" a commanding voice rang out.

Quirrel barely paid Professor McGongall the slightest attention. A single flick of his wand and the old teacher slumped to the floor.

"Leave the boy!" Lord Voldemort rasped. "We'll deal with him later."

As Quirrel turned and began to stride across the entrance hall towards the great wood and iron doors of the castle, Harry found that he could move once again. And move he did. A flicker of black cloaks in the doorway sent him sprinting. As Quirrel's wand arm started to rise, Harry put on a burst of speed before diving full length at the two girls just walking in the door.

An immense searing pain tore across his back as he crashed into the girls, tearing a scream of pain and anguish from his throat. Gritting his teeth, Harry attempted to extradite himself from the tangle of arms, legs and hair that he was engulfed in.

"HARRY!"

Hermione's voice screamed across the entrance way and Harry knew instantly that she was going to be Quirrel or Voldemort's next target.

Scrambling to his knees, Harry pulled his wand free. Instantly knowing that he had no chance against the wizard in front of him, he switched targets and pointed his wand at Hermione and Neville as they rushed down the stairs towards him.

Get back, get back, get back! Get back to safety! Get back away from Quirrel! Screamed through his mind

He saw the bright white curse leave Quirrel's wand and he held his breath, tears rolling down his cheeks as he knew that his friends were already dead.

Instead, something amazing happened. The two of them were hurtled backwards up the stairs seconds before Quirrel's spell impacted with and obliterated the stairs that they'd been standing on.

Not even trying to understand what had happened, Harry lurched forward, his wand falling from his hand as he dove for Quirrel.

Aiming to prevent Voldemort from alerting Quirrel, Harry stretched forward and clamped a hand across the snake-like mouth. Quirrel exploded in a cry of pain as he tried to swing around to shake the boy off.

Harry, though, simply knew that by holding on, he was preventing the wizard from hurting anyone else. With his right hand still firmly grasped over Voldemort's mouth, he wrapped his left hand around Quirrel's head to grab hold of his face too.

Screams of pain tore through the entrance hall. Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that exploded in his hands. Every part of his skin that touched Quirrel felt like it was on fire. He wanted to let go. He longed to let go. But Harry simply refused. He kept his grip firmly in place for as long as he possibly could.

Eventually, though, the pain grew too much. His voice had been reduced to a raspy whimper after the strain of his continuous screams and his body reacted the only way that it could to protect itself – by passing out.