Harry looked at the blood-red Sorcerer's Stone, laying there on the floor. He couldn't just get up, grab it and run away—that would be turning his back to Quirrell, and there was no time anyway. Quirrell was already making his way towards the Stone, Voldemort egging him on. There was only one thing for Harry to do.

He reached his hand out and grabbed the Stone like a speeding Snitch.

"You want it?" he said, as Quirrell bared his teeth in anger. "Then go get it!"

Harry threw the Stone across the floor of the chamber, where it landed near his dueling gloves and helmet. Quirrell gave an evil, victorious laugh and ran towards the Stone, completely forgetting the boy who had thrown it…and that was a big mistake. Harry dived.

Down Quirrell fell like a mighty oak, having been grabbed by Harry right around the ankles, getting his feet pulled out right from underneath him. He screamed in agony as his bald head hit the floor. Voldemort screeched too.

"GET OFF ME, BOY!" Quirrell hollered, but Harry had climbed on him, grabbing for Quirrell's hand, which was still closed tight over the wands. And, just like Holly said, the Pinch could come in handy. With another scream of pain, Quirrell let go of the wands. Harry grabbed them quick as he could and stood up. He made sure Quirrell was watching as he broke Quirrell's wand in two, then took control of his own again.

"Accio! Accio! Accio!"

Once, twice, thrice Harry used the Summoning Charm. Quirrell was getting up, but it was too late. The Stone flew right back into Harry's pocket. Harry hurriedly placed his wand back in its holster, just soon enough to catch the dueling gloves on his hands. He caught the helmet in his hands and set it on his head.

Quirrell was standing up by now, glaring. His eyes went straight to Harry's dueling gloves, but he didn't look scared.

"And just what do you think you're going to do with those?" he jeered, pinning Harry to the wall. One hand was on Harry's chest, the other around his left wrist. Quirrell was about a head and a half taller than Harry. With a twisted grin, he pulled Harry's wand out of its holster.

"Say goodbye, Potter," he hissed, pointing the wand at Harry's neck.

Only one thought ran through Harry's mind.

Phoebe needs her big brother.

Before Quirrell could utter a single incantation, Harry pulled his left hand all the way down, forcing Quirrell to let go—and, with his right hand, reached up and sucker-punched him, knuckles first, right in his leering face.

Quirrell howled, both hands flying up to the place where Harry had socked him, dropping Harry's wand in the process.

"OO WOKE MAH HAW!" he bellowed, and from the way Quirrell was talking, plus the fact that his face was now bleeding, Harry was sure it was true—the dueling gloves had, indeed, managed to break Quirrell's jaw.

"And that's not all I can do!" Harry said, picking his wand up off of the floor and hitting Quirrell with a well-placed Knee-Reversing Hex. Quirrell fell forwards onto his face, out like a light.

Harry was now staring down at Voldemort's face. Voldemort was still smirking.

"Good job, Harry," he said mockingly. "You may be able to win a duel with your weak, powerless teacher. But you could never win a duel with me. Not even your father could."

"What?" said Harry.

"Your father tried to hold me off at the door," Voldemort said. "As if he could, when he didn't even have a wand…He and your mother died begging for mercy…They were nothing but pathetic fools, just like anyone else who so unwisely challenges the Dark Lord…"

"TAKE THAT BACK, YOU MURDERING DOUCHENOZZLE!"

Voldemort and Harry both looked towards the threshold where the wall of magical fire was still burning. Harry's felt his jaw drop; there was his godfather, looking beyond furious.

"Sirius!" Harry cried in shock. "How did you know I was—I thought you were in London!"

"Call it a godfather's intuition," Sirius said hurriedly, rushing over to where Harry was standing next to Quirrell, who was still unconscious on the floor. "Is he…dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. "Just knocked out. I broke his jaw."

Harry held up his dueling gloves. The one on the right was covered in Quirrell's blood.

"You…you…" Sirius was holding his hand on his heart. "What…why? W-Where's Snape? And…and what's Voldemort doing on Quirrell's head?"

"It was Quirrell all along," Harry explained. "He framed Snape. Like Pettigrew framed you, sort of."

"Well, they're both going to Azkaban, then," Sirius said shortly. He flicked his wand once, conjuring a pair of steel handcuffs and snapping them onto Quirrell's wrists. But before he could grab Quirrell's body, the face vanished and a thick fog, sort of like cigarette smoke, drifted out of Quirrell's head. When it was gone, there was just a normal back to Quirrell's head, and Voldemort was gone.

"Voldemort got away, Sirius," said Harry in dismay. "He escaped."

"It's not like Azkaban could have held him anyway, I suppose," said Sirius, pulling a little bottle out of his robes. "Here…drink this potion. It will get us through the firewall."

Harry drank some of the potion, which was steaming-hot. Sirius drank a sip too, and they walked through the fire together, Sirius leading Harry by the hand and Quirrell's body with the Mobilicorpus spell. Harry told Sirius what bottle to drink to get past the purple flames, just like Hermione had done what seemed like so long ago. They made their way past the stinky troll, past the chess room (Ron was already gone; Hermione must have gotten him to come around), and through the room with the flying keys. Sirius used his wand to conjure a ladder, which they used to climb back into the room with Fluffy, where James's old record player was now playing "I Don't Want to Miss a Thing." In short, it was a lot easier getting away from the Stone than it was getting to it. All the while, Harry's hand was in his pocket, clasped tightly around the Stone.

When they had slammed the door behind them and entered the rest of Hogwarts, they were surprised to see Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione waiting for them.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, her eyes full of tears. She ran into his arms, embracing him. "Oh, Harry, are you all right?"

"Never better," Harry told her, laughing. "And look!"

As soon as she let go, he pulled the Sorcerer's Stone out of his pocket. Hermione looked at it in wonder, and Harry let her hold it for a minute, but then she turned to Dumbledore.

"Professor, do you want your—"

Hermione couldn't finish her question, because Dumbledore was getting lectured by Sirius, whose loud voice could be heard all throughout the corridor. He had one hand on his hip, the other pointing in Dumbledore's face. The lecturing didn't seem like it would stop anytime soon.

"And what were you thinking, putting up all these enchantments a few first years could get through—albeit a few exceptional first years," he said, looking at Harry and his friends, but then back at Dumbledore. "I honestly don't understand why you didn't just lock it up where nobody could find it, they need the password to get into your office, don't they? What was the point of all those guards besides to waste everyone's time—and risk my godson's safety? And why did you hire somebody who had FUCKING VOLDEMORT stuck in his head? Couldn't you smell that foul stench coming from his turban! I sure could! That's dropping the ball pretty badly, isn't it, even for you! This is a school, Dumbledore, not an insane asylum—"

"Blimey," said Ron, staring. "He sounds like my mother."

"Let's leave them to it," said Harry, grinning. He kissed Hermione's cheek, and the three best friends linked arms. Then they finally took Professor McGonagall's advice—they went out to enjoy the sunshine.

TO BE CONTINUED!