A CONFRONTATION IN THE SHADOWS

Harry could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He was nervous. Afraid, even, to meet the man who killed his parents, the man who is after his life. He thought of numerous things to say to Voldemort, but couldn't think of anything. He could feel the fear grip him, but the Gryffindor within him wouldn't back down. When Harry entered the room, he was shocked to see who was standing there. It wasn't Snape. It wasn't Voldemort, either.

"Professor Quirrell?" Harry seemed stupefied.

Quirrell smiled at Harry, his face showing no signs of nervousness whatsoever. "Yes, Potter. Me. I've been waiting quite a while for you to show up."

"But- Why you? I thought Snape-"

"Ah, yes. Severus. He was on to me, been a thorn in my side for a while. He even seems like the type who would resurrect the Dark Lord, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?" The man's cackle was cold and sinister, a complete opposite to his usual self.

Harry had trouble believing that Quirrell was the one after the Philosopher's Stone. It just couldn't be! After all, Snape had tried to kill him, hadn't he? He always seemed to pick on Harry deliberately, as well.

"But Snape tried to kill me during the Quidditch match!" shouted Harry.

"No, no. I tried to kill you, boy. And I would've succeeded, if Snape hadn't muttered a counter-curse. Pity." said Quirrell coolly.

"B-but- Snape was trying to save me?" Harry was in disbelief.

"Obviously. Why do you think he volunteered to referee your next match? He wanted to make sure I couldn't harm you while you were on your broom. What a waste of his efforts. After all, you'll end up dying tonight anyway." Quirrell snapped his fingers.

Before Harry could react, ropes appeared out of thin air and bound him. Struggling only seemed to make them tighter.

"You're far too nosy to be left alive, Potter. Scurrying about the school on the night of Halloween, I was afraid you'd seen me near the troll."

"You let the troll inside?"

"Yes, I seem to have a gift with them. Unfortunately, it was of no use. Snape beat me to the third floor corridor. That stupid dog couldn't even bite his whole leg off." grumbled Quirrell.

Quirrell waved his hand and Harry levitated near the centre of the room.

"Now sit quiet, Potter. I must examine this artefact." Quirrell pointed towards a mirror in the middle of the room.

The Mirror of Erised! Harry had failed to realise its presence when he had seen Quirrell in the room.

"This mirror… it is the key to finding the Stone." Quirrell examined the mirror, mumbling to himself all the while. Before Harry could say anything to distract him, Quirrell looked directly at his reflection in the mirror.

"I see it! I'm in possession of the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master. But… but where is it?" Quirrell wondered.

Harry had to do something to keep the man's attention away from the mirror.

"Snape always seems to hate me so much. Why isn't he here helping you?"

"He does hate you, boy. His hatred for you rivals his hatred for your father. Which I believe is the reason why he hates you. Didn't you know?" Quirrell asked upon seeing Harry's puzzled face, "Snape and your father were at Hogwarts in the same year. They loathed each other, which is why he loathes you in return. But he never wanted you dead, that's absurd." Quirrell turned his attention back to the mirror.

Harry's brain was going a mile a minute. He had to distract him!

"I-I heard you crying in a classroom a few days back. I didn't see Snape there, though-" Harry began.

For the first time that night, Harry saw fear flicker on Quirrell's face.

"My master is a great, great wizard… and I'm nothing in comparison…" Quirrel's face looked ashen.

"Was your master there in the classroom with you?" Harry asked hopefully.

"He is always with me. In fact, he's here with me, right now." said Quirrell, flashing a bone-chilling smile towards Harry.

"He made me who I am, gave me power, knowledge… But I'm nowhere near as powerful or wise as he is… I still fail at tasks… and I get punished for it. My failure to retrieve the Stone from Gringotts," Quirrell said with a shudder, "landed me in heaps of trouble. My master, Lord Voldemort, showed me there's only power, and those who are too weak to seek it. I'm not a weakling…"

Quirrell cursed under his breath, and began mumbling something to himself yet again.

Harry had to find the Stone and escape somehow! Otherwise, Voldemort could return. His mind was racing. What if I look in the mirror? It'll definitely show me where the Philosopher's Stone is… But how do I look in the mirror without Quirrell finding out?

Harry's musings were cut short by Quirrell approaching him. He was deep in thought.

"How do I find the Stone… is it inside the mirror…?"

When Quirrell turned away, Harry noticed the back of his turban moving slightly. And then he heard a cold voice whisper, "Use the boy… use the boy…"

Quirrell turned on his heel and undid the ropes, but kept a firm grip on his arm.

"Stand here, Potter. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry looked in the mirror and saw himself holding the Philosopher's Stone. His reflection winked at him and dropped the Stone in his pocket. Harry could feel his pocket get heavier. I must lie! I must lie! Harry desperately thought of lies to tell the man.

"Well? What did you see?" asked Quirrell, impatiently.

"I see myself holding the Quidditch Cup," Harry made up, "I also see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore! Gryffindor won the House C-"

Harry was shoved aside by Quirrell, who cursed audibly.

"He lies… the boy lies…" whispered the cold voice, yet again.

Quirrell looked at him again, rage in his eyes. "Potter! Tell me what you saw, tell me the truth!"

"Let me speak to the boy… let me face him…" the voice whispered.

Quirrell gulped, before nodding. He turned away and began unwrapping his turban. Harry noticed a disgusting stench emanating from the man's head, which only seemed to grow stronger as the turban unravelled further.

Harry was rooted to his spot. He couldn't move a muscle, even if he tried. He felt as if he had been hit by a Body Bind Curse. When Quirrell was done unwrapping the turban, Harry saw the most hideous face attached to the back of the man's skull. It was as white as chalk, with red pupils and slits for nostrils. It had jagged teeth all over his mouth. The face held a strong resemblance to a snake.

"Harry… Potter… we meet again…" the face whispered in a disquieting tone.

Harry tried to move, but he was frozen in place.

"You see what I have become…? You see what you have done to me…? I, Lord Voldemort, have been reduced to a mere parasite! By a boy… by you… I can't live without living off of another… Unicorn blood has sustained me, but only temporarily… I need the Elixir of Life… so why don't you give me the Philosopher's Stone… the one in your pocket?"

Harry could finally control his legs. He stumbled backwards, but Quirrell kept walking backwards, so Voldemort could face him.

"You're a fool, if you think you can escape me twice," snarled the face, "Be smarter than your parents were… save your life… You don't want to be begging for mercy like them… do you?" The evil face was now smiling.

"LIAR!" Harry yelled.

"Bravery… A virtue I value…" The face sneered at Harry. "Your parents were brave too… Your father tried to fight back… but he died first… Your mother could've lived… had she just given you up to me… But she put up a fight… so she had to go too… Now give me the stone… unless you want her sacrifice to have been in vain…"

"NEVER!" Harry could feel rage bubbling inside him.

Harry ran towards the door. Voldemort screamed, "SEIZE HIM!" Quirrell jumped over and grabbed Harry's wrist. Harry couldn't move. He tried to raise his hands to protect himself, but to no avail. Quirrell was just too strong.

"Your parents were brave… yes… but they were weak… They were pathetic… They couldn't stand up to me… neither can you, boy…" Voldemort laughed from behind Quirrell's head.

Harry could feel the anger build up inside him. He felt mad. He wanted nothing more than to shut the ugly face up right then and there. He suddenly grabbed Quirrell's hand and shoved it away from him.

Quirrell stumbled backwards and screeched in pain, as his hand turned to dust, before fading away. He clutched his now gone hand in pain.

Voldemort's screams of anger didn't seem to lessen. "SEIZE THE BOY! GET THE STONE!"
Quirrell finally lunged for Harry again and grabbed his throat. His remaining hand squeezed Harry's neck. As he struggled to breathe, he heard Voldemort say, "Yes… Die, boy… Die like your harlot of a mother did…"

Harry was enraged. How dare he insult my mother?! He felt magic swell and grow within him. Harry grabbed Quirrell's face with both his hands and willed his magic towards his hands. Quirrell was thrown back by the magical outburst, and smashed against a wall.

Quirrell got up and started running towards Harry, anger apparent on his face. However, mid way, he stopped and looked at his legs, they seemed to have frozen. Quirrell then screamed out, seemingly in pain. He clawed at his face, which, to Harry's horror, started fading away in dust. Quirrell flailed for a few seconds, before his entire body had faded away. The frightening screams stopped immediately, and silence blanketed the room.

Harry was still gasping for air, he didn't understand why Quirrell just faded away into nothingness. He reached into his pocket for the Philosopher's Stone, and took it out.

The Stone seemed to glow with an amber hue. The flames behind the doorway seemed to dance in the reflections within the Stone.

Harry had a moment to admire the stone, and think about what had just happened, before he felt the exhaustion from using so much magic finally get to him. He thought of Voldemort's repulsive face, before darkness consumed him.

Author's Note-

Hagrid: You're a unit of power, Harry.

Harry: I'm a WATT?!