Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC Bailey and any alterations to the original storyline plot her presence creates to various readers amusement everywhere across the globe.
A Dog's Purpose Is Strange Magic Chapter 46
Yes, it's Quirrell all right.
And by the look of things he appears to have been expecting them.
"You," gasped Harry.
Chuckling in a cool manner, no trace of any stutter or tremble in his voice, face lacking any of the signature twitch to his features at all, Quirrell said "Me. I wondered whether I'd be meeting you her, Potter."
Stumbling over his words as he tries to register this twist, Harry said "But I thought…Snape…"
Cold, sharp, and calm, Quirrell said "Severus? Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to hi, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"
"But Snape tried to kill me," said Harry, referring to the incident at the Quidditch Pitch where he almost plummeted from his broom.
Shaking his head, boldly cynical, Quirrell said "No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."
Overwhelmed with so much information at once, Harry said "Snape was trying to save me?"
"Of course," scowled Quirrell, snidely sultry. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really…he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning. He did make himself quite unpopular and what a waste of time."
Eyes wide as he finally realized this explained how Bailey always acted around the man, Harry exclaimed "Bailey! She never liked you from the start! Whenever you were around, she'd always growl and block you from getting even close to me!"
"True. I must admit I was impressed with your mutt's tenacity and devotion to you," drawled Quirrell, eyeing Bailey unsettlingly where she's crouched in front of her boy prepared to pounce on this guy at a moment's notice should make one wrong step. "Although I can't say I'm surprised. The majority of animal species across the globe both magical and nonmagical have a keen sense in judging whether someone is an ally or not. She's known about my contempt, detest, and hostility toward you since that faithful day in the Leaky Cauldron. But that doesn't matter now. When, after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."
That tears it.
Bailey's already reached her limit with Quirrell.
Baring her teeth Bailey charges at Quirrell head-on to protect her boy as befits her breeds loyalty.
"No, Bailey," said Harry, reaching out to grab her tail and missing.
Not like she was going to succeed in reaching Quirrell anyhow.
Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry. Others snaked around Bailey's muzzle and legs. Bailey drops onto her side, wriggling to break free from the ropes but they are too tightly bound.
"Bailey," said Harry, worriedly.
"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that. For all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone," said Quirrell, arms crossed in satisfaction.
"You let the troll in," said Harry.
"Certainly. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off. And not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, but that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. He, of course, never trusted me again. Barely even left me alone. But he doesn't understand, no one would. I'm never alone. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror," said Quirrell, demeaning, speaking with absolute conviction, turning his back to them to face the Mirror of Erised.
Harry's not just about to let Quirrell do as he likes. He needs to do his best to prevent Quirrell from getting to the Stone before more help can arrive.
To disrupt this catastrophe since they're teetering on the edge of it. Other factors to take into account.
Lifting his chin defiantly, Harry said "I saw you and Snape in the forest-."
"Yes. He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…," said Quirrell, maliciously with false ambivalence, gradually circling the mirror in trying to figure out a weak spot, staring hungrily at it.
Squinting his eyes at the image reflected at him, Quirrell said "I see the Stone…I'm presenting it to my master…but where is it?"
"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much," said Harry, inexplicably confused, finding it farfetched that Snape would do anything of the sort to protect his wellbeing.
"Oh, he does, heavens yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead," specified Quirrell, cryptically.
"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing. I thought Snape was threatening you," broached Harry.
A spasm of undeniable fear crossing Quirrell's face, he said "Sometimes I find it hard to follow my master's instructions. He is a great wizard and I am weak."
Quirrell then went reminiscent about how he first met the fallen Dark Lord on his previous travels abroad and how Voldemort helped him to see the errors of his ways in his naïve moralistic viewpoints on the world order of things. Then when he failed to steal the Sorcerer's Stone when they were at Gringotts, Voldemort decided to punish him by keeping him under closer supervision. Quirrell then trails off cursing under his breath, not pinpointing the entry point in the glass for the Sorcerer's Stone without having to decimate the ancient artifact. Quirrell is becoming more and more frustrated by the second with it beginning to show through his cool, calm, and controlled posterior. This is broken when he calls out for his master's assistance as if he is in the room with them.
Voldemort is closer than they realize.
Suddenly voice filled with nothing but cold and venomous darkness echoes throughout the chamber when it is supposedly the three of them.
"Use the boy…Use the boy…"
It makes Bailey's skin crawl and the fur on her entire back stand on end.
Whirling to round on Harry, clapping his hands once to release the ropes binding Harry, Quirrell said "Come here, Potter. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."
Rising slowly to his feet, Harry said "Not unless you free Bailey, too. I'll do as you say. Just let her go."
"Fine, but keep her at hell, Potter. One wrong move from her and the both of you are dead," warned Quirrell, witheringly threatening to decimate the pair should one wrong movement be taken in retaliation against him.
"Deal," said Harry, subdued.
Bargain made Quirrell snaped his fingers, the ropes restraining Bailey vanish in an instant.
Bailey stands, shaking out her fur and briefly stretching her stiff limbs.
Placing a hand on her head, and stroking it, Harry said "Bailey, heel."
Bailey woofs, nosing his hand. Bailey positions herself on the side that puts her in between Harry and Quirrell, shifting restlessly.
Harry stands in front of the Mirror of Erised. Same as last time the pictures Bailey and Harry met with are completely different. At least that's what Bailey thought. Harry's hand moves to his right pocket and gasps slightly.
Curious Bailey pokes her nose at that pocket, discovering a lump that wasn't there a second ago.
The Stone! It has to be the Stone. Somehow Harry has it.
"Well? What do you see," said Quirrell, impatiently.
Swallowing thickly as he screws up his courage, Harry lied "I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I-I've won the House Cup for Gryffindor."
Cursing, shoving Harry aside, bitterly, Quirrell said "Get out of my way."
Quirrell is stuck so single-minded right now that he believes him.
The person pulling his strings, on the other hand, does not.
"He lies…He lies."
"Potter come back here! Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"
"Let me speak to him…face to face…"
"Master, you are not strong enough," said Quirrell, apprehensively.
"I have strength enough…for this…"
Turning to face the Mirror of Erised, Quirrell unwraps the turban from his head.
What Quirrell has kept hidden all these months is far more petrifying than anyone could've ever imagined.
Voldemort.
Attached to the back of Quirrell's head.
"Voldemort," breathed Harry.
"Harry Potter," whispered Voldemort.
Yes, it's him all right. The truth behind it is he's been living on Quirrell as his host the entire time, leeching off of him. It was Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest that night drinking the unicorn blood to keep his master sustained. Voldemort does his best to manipulate Harry into handing the Sorcerer's Stone over to him, already aware the Stone had relinquished itself into the boy's pocket. Harry bravely refuses, uprooting his feet from where they'd been frozen solid on the floor.
Harry and Bailey then make a break for the flame door.
Quirrell seizes Harry's wrist. Harry stumbles in agony and Quirrell emits a screech of agony. Right when Harry pulls on his arm the man lets go straight away. Quirrell clutches his now blistering and scorched hand from where he touched him, raw, red, and shiny. Quirrell lunges toward Harry again, knocking Harry clean off his feet. Just as he goes to lock both hands around Harry's neck Bailey careens at Quirrell. She latches her teeth onto one arm he uses as a shield from her attack while using the other one to try and strangle Harry.
But Quirrell can't keep this up for long. Quirrell's hand is burning away from the contact, revealing that he can't keep this up for much longer. Sensing an opportunity to defeat their foe Harry places both of his hands on Quirrell's face, skin smoking and crumbling as a result.
Quirrell screams intensify, Voldemort continuing to order his minion to kill them.
Quirrell is weakened enough to the point where Harry rolls him off of him, still hanging on as tight as he can to end this.
During the roll, Bailey is forced to let go. Over the scuffle Bailey hears footsteps rapidly approaching from above and through the flaming door appears Dumbledore.
He's made it!
Calling out Harry's name Dumbledore pulls him off the now invalid Quirrell.
Harry's work has done its damage, the man is now barely alive.
Exhausted and spent from the pain he endured with his scar burning like crazy on his forehead Harry drifts into unconsciousness, out cold.
Whining Bailey immediately tends to her boy, licking and nuzzling his face in vain attempts to rouse him.
Emerging from Quirrell's decrepit and useless body is what's left of Voldemort.
A husk of billowy and black smoke with blazing red eyes and demonic face.
Bailey stands hunched over her boy, barking incessantly and snarling at him. Bailey needn't have bothered. With Dumbledore here now Voldemort has lost.
Voldemort flees, hurtling up the corridor and disappearing out of sight. He won't be thinking of returning back here to the school any time soon in the near future.
The danger gone Bailey refocuses on Harry. Lying down beside him, ignoring the fatally injured Quirrell, Bailey lays her head on Harry's chest.
Bending down to stroke her head reassuringly, Dumbledore said "Good girl, Bailey. Good girl."
And what a good girl she most certainly is.
Authors Note:
I hope you all like this one! I certainly did while writing it for your vast enjoyment! ;D