Harry potter and the Time of Retirement
Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR
Chapter 23
The temporary room of Defense Against the Dark Arts was a mess: most of the desks and chairs were now mere fragments, one of the columns was almost falling down with a big chunk of it missing and stains of burns and spell fire were visible throughout the walls.
Not that its current occupants looked much better: Quirrell, the resident professor, had several burn marks on his clothes and face while Harry's left arm was severely bleeding and pending loosely from his shoulder.
None of the two gave any attention whatsoever to their status or that of the room, anyway, being completely focused on each others wands, already drawn and ready to cast again.
"Say what you have to say, Parasite" had said Harry.
"So, you do recognize me. How, I wonder, when not even the other professors discovered me?" asked, with a slight hiss, Riddle's ghost.
Harry, though, did not answer. He had no interest in chit-chat, only in recovering his breath and deciding how to deal with the men in front of him. So, he remained still and silent – not a problem for Riddle, which sense of drama seemed satisfied by the mere presence of an audience.
"Magic can do wonderful things, Potter… destroy and create, even protect you from death! But, not everyone is allowed to fully grasp its power. So how could you, a mere half-blood, be able to cast so well, so fluently, at your age?" continued Riddle in what was now a silky, almost sweet voice.
"It's not like you are a pureblood yourself, ghost" said disdainful Harry, with a cruel smirk. Quirrell's eyes widened: obviously this was news to him.
"Be more respectful, boy. I am not one of your silly Hufflepuff friends" said a suddenly angered Riddle. Harry, again, did not respond – provoking his enemies into action again was not in his interest, for the moment.
In fact, while still keeping his wand in Quirrell's general direction, he cast Episkey on his damaged left arm which immediately started to mend. Judging from Quirrell's expression he noticed it, and so probably did Riddle, but they did not react otherwise.
"We are linked, Potter, by fate itself. Your talent is not surprising… I have been forewarned about it" he said with a clearly sarcastic tone "But I wonder, tonight, how you could have gained skills that goes far beyond even some of my followers."
"Oh, I just do my homeworks every day" answered coldly Harry, whose arm while still throbbing with pain and dripping blood was at least usable again. Soon, he would be able to restart the duel.
"And if you want to continue doing that, you'll lower your wand now, Potter. You should not die… not until I am sure… but i can't accept the risk of you hiding in your head what is not yours."
"What makes you think I'll just submit to you?" asked Harry, tensing immediately.
"Nothing, of course" said Riddle, suddenly turning silent. Quirrell, almost imperceptibly, shifted his feet to get more stability.
For a couple seconds, no one moved: then, at the same time, they attacked. Neither Harry nor Quirrell started with heavy, hard to cast spells and used only minor jinxes and hexes, all of which could be cast fast leaving time to counter whatever surprise the other could come up with; the consequence being that they were all avoided or stopped with other spells. Obviously, this was going nowhere and both knew it, as slowly they stopped casting until, in a weird synchrony, they stopped.
Finally, arguably counting on his superior strength and Harry's apparent desire not to use unforgivables, Quirrell with an elaborate movement of his wand cast a strong Protego first and transfigured one of the columns behinds Harry into a large bear.
Harry had not been remaining frozen watching, though: the second he saw Quirrell cast the magical shield, he knew he had to counter with something that would keep Quirrell busy, giving him time also to react to whatever would follow – and hopefully to counterattack.
Quickly, but completely focused, he cast Orbus on the ground slightly before the part where the shield shimmered with the professor immediately starting being sucked inside the floor. The complexity of the spell, way beyond what an 11yo could normally cast, made Harry feel weak and light-headed but, aware of the threat behind him due to the bear's roar, he started moving to his side while casting a simple Epoximise on the bear, sticking its paws to the ground when he was barely a foot away from him.
Turning his head towards Quirrell again, Harry spotted and narrowly avoided a large red blur coming towards him: behind it the surprised face of the professor. Quirrell, apparently, had counted on Harry to consume time and energy in dealing with his transfiguration, and had therefore chosen to push the attack instead of freeing himself completely from the effect of Orbus – so his legs were still halfway stuck inside the floor.
Feeling nauseous and with a shaky arm, Harry still pushed in for the kill: with his face disfigured by a malevolent snare, tasting victory already in his mind, he screamed loudly "Avada Kevadra" with a bright green light coming out of his wand and rushing towards the professor.
This was Harry's latest idea, a product of his experiments of the last year: a modified Baubillious, a relatively harmless spell that created a bolt of light towards the target; only, his version came with a green color instead of the usual white one.
Quirrell, probably panicking himself, quickly conjured a solid slab of stone in front of him after Harry's first couple of syllables. That easily absorbed the spell and normally, being Avada Kevadra an hard-to-cast curse, it would have been the right reaction as he would have not to fear an immediate follow up attack. But Harry, while feeling closer and closer to exhaustion, still had a last spark of energy and all the time he needed to cast again, provided it was not something complex: so he put all he had left into a Flipendo aimed straight at the magically created stone who was then propelled directly against its conjurer, hitting Quirrell with an ominous crash.
Unable even to check if his adversary was finally out of the fight or not, Harry – that had gone way beyond its limit with this last sequence of spells – fell on his knees and started puking on the floor, while trying desperately not to pass out.
"Uugghhh" moaned painfully Harry, spitting some left-over puke from his mouth and brushing his tears out of his eyes. Almost blindly, he patted the floor around himself a couple times – recoiling when his hand fell on some wet spot – before finding his fallen glasses and putting them on.
While it felt like it was endless, Harry's retching must have lasted no more than half a minute. Wobbly, he raised back on his feet and checked his surroundings.
Quirrell was laying down on his back, twitching and groaning; the strength of the Flipendo-propelled piece of stone freeing him from the effect of Orbus, and reducing the rock to pieces of rubble that together with his wand surrounded now his head.
'Accio' thought Harry, who had no problem with casting the spell silently: Quirrell's wand though did not move at all. Too tired to care, Harry simply walked over and pocketed it. His actions drew Quirrell's attention though, and the man opened his eyes only to find Harry's wand aimed straight at his head.
'"hat now?' thought Harry, unsure if he would be able to cast Stupefy at the moment, finally concluding the duel. 'Should I fail…' he thought nervously, aware of how without magic he had no chance whatsoever to overpower an adult. He still made sure to keep his face expressionless, though, while considering his options – and trying to recover a bit of strength.
"Potter" started speaking Quirrell, for the first time in the night "Please let me go. I didn't. I… you can't say no the dark lord!" he pleaded miserably.
"I know" said Harry, actually feeling a spark of pity now for the young men.
"Let me go! The dark lord left, we don't need to fight anymore! Let's go to the infirmary…" he said while starting to stand up, only to stop immediately as Harry's arm tensed, and his eyes narrowed.
"Potter… Harry…. Have mercy!" he said spreading his arms almost pathetically, but his face was now hostile again.
'Now or never' decided Harry, aware that he could not stall the professor for much longer. His wand started moving, and his mouth opened, but before he could utter more than the first 'S' Quirrell, with a scream, pushed his right arm towards his face and a weak ray of light came out of it, blinding Harry for a second. 'Lumos Solem' thought Harry angered by his own carelessness. He was aware of the trick, as the spells normal wizards could cast wandless were few and known.
He stepped back, forcing his eyes open and preparing to cast but it was too late already: the professor was already tackling him and the instant Harry fell on his back, glasses flying away once again, Quirrell was on top of him and throwing a strong punch to his jaw. Pained, Harry barely noticed Quirrell crashing his right hand on the ground until he released the wand. In the distance, he could also hear Riddle's voice screaming something.
Harry tried immediately to pick it up but Quirrell grasped his right wrist with his left hand, and landed two more punches on Harry's now bleeding nose. Enraged and panicking, Harry tried to protect his face with his only free hand and when Quirrell hastily moved it away to restart hitting him, he turned on his side and bit the professor's left arm – hard. So hard that stripes of its skin remained in Harry's mouth, when Quirrell roaring with pain pulled it back.
Almost by instinct, Harry drew the only wand he could reach: Quirrell's very own, still in Harry's pocket, and cast point-blank a Glacius on the professor's chest. In the beginning Quirrell seemed not even to notice it as enraged as he was, and wrestled Harry for control of the wand. And yet, after a couple of seconds he shook and fell with his hands on the ground, surprise clearly shown on his face – only for Harry to smash his palm against Quirrell's nose, breaking it.
Quirrell groaned with pain but reacted only by rolling on his side, twitching and jerking. Harry, dragging himself away from the man, could not muster any kind of pity for the man even though what he had just used was, in his opinion, one of the lowest tricks in his book: casting at close range ensured that the Glacius would affect even the inside of the body and not just the outside, which meant freezing also the hearth and lungs of the person hit.
At full strength, Harry's spell would have killed anyone almost instantly but as weak as he was now he must have barely managed to freeze part of his blood, giving Quirrell a longer, and dramatically more painful hearth attack.
It took maybe a solid minute before the professor stopped moving, with Harry staring at him the whole time. There was nothing he could do – and in truth, he was not sure he would try something anyway. 'Too close, too damn close' he thought.
Abandoning the professor's wand on the floor, he picked up his glasses and his own wand. When he turned, a mist-like shadow was emerging from what was now almost certainly Quirrell's corpse.
'Of course' thought Harry with a mental sneer of annoyance and pain.
"Potter" said Riddle's ghost, with his face appearing mid-air "No crying over killing someone? No regrets? I am certainly impressed" he said sarcastically. As for Harry, he did not answer but limited himself to look at the wraith with resentment.
"Maybe we should reach a deal. I could teach you much… with me, you would be great. No one could ever tell you what to do again" continued Riddle.
Harry was not surprised of the offer – and was severely angered by Riddle's obvious disregard for his fallen servant. For same reason, it just irked at Harry's core values.
'His body is not even cold, I am half dead myself…' thought Harry, his anger rising. Distractedly, he noted how the ghost had kept talking the whole time.
"Don't pass on my offer lightly, Potter. You won't get it again" he was saying, in a sweet hissing tone.
"You really talk too much" said Harry, pointing his wand towards Riddle. With his great annoyance, an echo of low laughter was the only reaction he got.
"Threatening me, now? How do you think you could hurt me, silly boy? Maybe I am overestimating you" said mockingly the ghost.
Angered, Harry admitted he was right. At his best, maybe he could have tried something against his ghost form. Right now, he was not even sure he could cast the simplest spell. He lowered his wand, but this only made his irritation greater.
"The bastard trash of muggles and inbred witches has no right to estimate me, Tom" said venomously Harry "Leave. We will meet again."
Riddle's face turned furious at these words. "You will regret this, Potter" he growled, before floating away and out of the classroom.
His emotions fading away, tiredness and pain striking back, Harry slowly pocketed his wand and looked around himself. Everything that could have gone wrong that night, did; he felt only an overwhelming desire to fall asleep and never wake up again. Or, at least, for a month.
Unfortunately it was not to be: ignoring the professor's body and the wreck that were now the classroom's furniture, he recovered his precious Cloak – which beside a couple of black marks that he hoped were dirt and not burns, seemed ok – and from it his pouch. Inside it, he picked up and abandoned on the ground some notes describing the Philosopher's Stone, plus ways to overcome the first three traps used for its protection.
Grimacing, Harry admitted mentally that such a set-up was even too transparent as the killer's attempt to cover his tracks. And yet, the presence of the Stone at Hogwarts, and its importance, would be enough to force the faculty members and the aurors to wonder if it was linked to Quirrell's death in any way. This combined with the fact that no one would assume a student, even an older one, could challenge a professor to the brutal fight that had obviously happened in the room made Harry feel somewhat safe. Provided his entrance in the room had passed unnoticed, even if someone knew he wandered into the castle that night he should avoid any accusation.
Exhausted and depressed, he wore the Cloak of invisibility and tried to abandon the room. After an half dozen attempts he finally reversed Quirrell's spell on the door and exited, picking up his Owler on the way and walking towards Hufflepuff's common room. He would have liked to seal the room again, as to prevent some innocent student to wander in and see the corpse, but he was literally unable to do it.
What followed was eventless: Harry went all the way back to his room, hid his tattered robes inside his personal chest and went to sleep. No coherent thoughts were passing through his head, only a burning feeling of sadness and anger for his failure, Quirrell's unnecessary but unavoidable death and, finally, Riddle's escape.
"Harry, wake up already!" screamed someone in Harry's ear. Startled, he suddenly woke up and half-rose from the bed.
"What the… what's wrong with you?" he blabbed to whoever had just awoken him up.
"That's my line, Harry. We were almost thinking you were dead or something" said someone that Harry, painfully, identified as Wayne.
"You didn't wake up no matter how much we shook you" said Ernie, on the other side of the room.
"You overdid it with the books last night, eh?" said friendly Justin.
"Mmhhh…. maybe" said in a pained tone Harry, finding and wearing his glasses.
"You certainly look terrible now, Potter" added evenly Zacharias, already dressed and apparently ready to go.
"Thank you, Zach" answered lamely Harry. 'My head…' was all he could think, due to the terrible headache that was tormenting him. His arm, also, was throbbing constantly.
"Harry, move. It's time for breakfast, we really have to go" said Wayne.
"Go on, guys. I'll catch up as soon as I can" answered Harry.
"If you take it this easy, you won't be able to, you know?" said Justin.
"Then we will meet straight up in History class. Save me a sandwich, if you can" he added hurriedly. 'Just go away' was his idea.
"Fine by me" said Zacharias, exiting the room. The others looked at each other for a second, then followed his example.
"Later Harry – Bye – Move your ass" were their goodbyes.
Once the last one closed the door, Harry slowly got out of his bed. There was nothing more he wished, at the moment, to remain in bed; which would also be the healthy thing to do, as he could clearly recognize the signs of magical exhaustion. Unfortunately, he could not afford to draw any more attention for the morning.
Quickly, he moved to the attached bathroom for what could easily be listed as the fastest shower ever; once back in his room, he recovered his torn robes from his chest and, a couple of Reparo later, he wore them. Not bothering with doing anything else, he walked out of his room first and the common room later, all the way to the great hall.
Normal chatter noises were coming out of it, and everything seemed normal except for a frantic-looking older Ravenclaw girl that went inside at the same time with Harry, and immediately headed for the headmaster. Sparing her only a fast, knowing look Harry moved towards the section of Hufflepuff's table were all his year mates were sitting down. One open spot was left at their side, and that is where he sat down.
"Oh, there you are" said Friendly Hannah.
"The boys said you looked like a vampire this morning" giggled Sally-Anne.
"A vampire?" asked Harry, while starting to fill his plate with various kinds of foods.
"Pale and impossible to wake up" added ironically Susan. Harry turned his head to look at the other boys, but the only one who was paying him any attention, Ernie, just had an amused smirk on his face.
"Give me something red to drink, then" answered finally Harry, shaking his head.
"Please don't bite me, Harry!" asked Megan, fake fear in her pitched voice.
After that, everyone went back to their business – which involved mostly food and guess work at the coming quiz test. Soon, though, they noticed how a weird silence was growing, and many people were turning to look at the center of the hall. Following suit they could see how Dumbledore, together with Hagrid, all but ran out of the hall closing its heavy doors behind them.
Harry, turning to look at the faculty table, could see the older girl from before talking now with McGonagall which, after casting some kind of spell on her throat, addressed the surprised students:
"Silence! All silent, now, and go back to your seats!" she said in a nervous tone.
The students started to obey, even if a low murmur of whispers continued to be present; McGonagall did not pay it any attention, though.
"By order of the headmaster, you must all remain in the great hall until told differently. All prefects must count their house members, and report to their head of house if anyone is missing."
Voices immediately rose, asking for explanation, but McGonagall simply told them to mind their own business and obey her instructions.
"Is… anyone missing?" started hesitantly Sally-Anne.
"…no. We are all here, I think" said Wayne.
"What could have happened?" asked Justin.
"No idea" said Ernie.
"The headmaster does not move without good reasons" said solemnly Susan.
"He rarely moves at all" stated dismissively Zacharias. Hannah giggled.
"I hope they don't take too much, I want to get over History and start preparing for this evening" said Justin.
"Mah. Herbology does not scare me. Transfiguration, tomorrow…." said Megan, shuddering.
"Harry, tonight could you show me again how to transfigure a mouse?" asked worriedly Sally-Anne.
"Sure, but… that's the third time, Sally" said Harry.
"I know, but it's so harddd" she complained.
"If you are not ready now, you won't do it tomorrow" said Hannah.
"I am ready. I only want to review" answered defensively Sally-Anne.
"We might as well do the same" said Ernie "We could be stuck here for one hour or two."
"Does anyone have his History notes with him?" asked Justin.
"I do" answered Megan.
"Let's see them" stated Zacharias.
And so, all the first year Hufflepuffs started reviewing for the coming exams; looking around the great hall, it could be seen how most of the other students, of almost all years, were doing the same. Harry himself, after giving a quick look to the table of the faculty where all the professors were busy talking between themselves or with the prefects, drew his wand and started showing some simple transfiguration concepts.
After a couple hours though everyone was tired and irritated, but any question addressed to the professors was deflected with a general reassurance that the headmaster would warn them when the normal schedule of the school would restart; an assurance that left many unsatisfied, but mostly quiet until lunch time.
When McGonagall forbid, again anyone to leave the Great Hall there were so many chorus of protests even by usually obedient students that she promised the headmaster himself would soon arrive to explain everything.
And in truth after another depressing hour Dumbledore came back and started talking among a general silence.
"My dear students, I am aware of how you have been forced here for the whole morning and I regret this unpleasant situation. Unfortunately, it was necessary."
"I am deeply sorry to inform you all how your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Quirrell, had an unfortunate accident this morning. We are still unsure on what caused it, but we had reason to think he had been attacked by a dangerous magical beast that could still be roaming the school."
"Quirrell's troll from Halloween!" screamed a random 5th year Gryffindor, starting a wave of laughter… that soon stopped at the sad, serious expression of the headmaster, who had closed his eyes, almost in pain.
"Officials from the ministry are assisting me in making sure the school is safe for everyone. As for your professor, he is being taken to St. Mungo, to remain under treatment. He will be unable to attend your exams, but measures will be taken to make sure you can perform them anyway."
"You will probably have to wait a little more, and I ask for you all to be patient due to the seriousness of the situation. Provided no more accidents happen, tomorrow the exams will progress normally, using today's schedule."
"I leave you all in the capable hands of our deputy headmistress, professor McGonagall. Obey her, be quiet, study for tomorrow. I wish you to have as pleasant an evening as possible" concluded Dumbledore, walking immediately towards the Great Hall doors – where some unknown people in fancy robes were apparently waiting for him.
"That was weird" said Wayne.
"Leave it to Quirrell to get hurt by some school pet" said Zacharias.
"That's mean!" said Hannah.
"Still, he is a bit incompetent" added Ernie.
"Ok, but he is at St. Mungo now, poor professor" said Sally-Anne.
"Eheh, they will force him to take off his turban" laughed Justin. Wayne, next to him, sniggered.
"Mah. Should we restart reviewing?" asked Megan.
"I am done with studying, guys" said Ernie.
"What could we do, then?" asked Susan. No one answered her, and everyone seemed really depressed all of a sudden.
"This is going to be a looong evening" said sarcastically Zacharias.
"You know, this is just like Halloween! The beast, Quirrell KO, we are stuck in one room…" said Justin.
"Harry, if you organize another escape you better take us too this time, eh?" asked smiling Susan. When she received no answer, she looked perplexed at him "Harry? Are you all right?"
Wayne, close to Harry, gave him a little push. Harry, startled, looked at him:
"What?"
"Welcome back, Potter. Were you sleeping already?" said Zacharias.
"Are you ok, Harry?" asked Sally-Anne.
"Yes, yes. I was just thinking about Quirrell, guys. He was an idiot, but he didn't deserve this… accident" said Harry, shaking his head.
Author's notes: again, 100% of this chapter's spells were taken from the semi official list on Potter Wiki. Unfortunately, the last one (Glacius) was shown only in the video games – still, I am quite sure one spell for freezing stuff must exist in the whole wizardly world, and in any case I liked its use in my story too much to give it up.
The fight… I wonder if I should change the rating of my story because of it. I wanted to make it realistic but, in the end, that made it turn quite brutal. Fights without rules, especially those among people who know what they are doing, are quite unpleasant both to participate or watch. It was also a good way, for me, to show what I think is the difference between a canon teenage Harry that fights on the wave of emotions in a fairy tale world and an older, confident one that fights because of grim duty and human brutality in the face of a realistic threat.
Anyway, the first year of the story is almost over. Believe me, I was quite unsure myself if I wanted to end it the first year or keep it going. In the end, my decision was based on a series of ideas on how to close semi-loose threads (Sirius, Wormtail, Harry's status as a Horcrux etc) and an action-packed scene I drafted for a fight against the Basilisk. I may be flattering myself, but it's a scene that deserves to be written.
So, that's it for now. The next chapter will arrive soon, if I can complete it during the holidays.