Chapter 13: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

"Welcome Mr. Potter," Harry heard as he stepped into the last chamber. Lined with roman columns, in the center sat a gigantic mirror on a raised dais and in front stood…

"Quirrell!" Harry was incredulous. "How? What? I thought… Snape?"

Harry's brain appeared to have lost the ability to form complete sentences.

"Oh that traitor?" Quirrell said. "We will deal with him after we get the stone. Now-"

Quirrell raised his wand and bound Harry in the purple drapes that fell from the ceiling.

"-Be quiet while I figure this out," Quirrell said.

"But Snape tried to kill me," Harry tried to keep Quirrell focused on him. "He tried to throw me from my broom."

"No, boy!" Quirrell said. "I did. If it weren't for Severus, I would have done it too! Had Snape not knocked me down, I would have had you off it. Now, that's enough questions. Silencio."

Quirrell thrust his wand at Harry and Harry found he couldn't speak which was fine because he was still trying to piece together the idea of Snape saving him.

Harry examined the mirror Quirrell was looking into. It was large and ornate, with words carved into an arch above it. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

I show not your face but your hears desire, Harry worked out as he fought to be free of the drapes.

"I see myself with the stone," Quirrell said. "I am presenting it to my master. But how do I get it out? It must be in the mirror?"

"Use the boy," came a hoarse whisper.

"Potter! Get over here!"

Whether Harry wanted to or not was irrelevant. The drapes moved him in front of the mirror. Harry looked into the glass and, for a moment, just saw himself surrounded by mist.

Slowly, two figures stepped out of the mist to stand behind him. One, a male, had messy black hair and glasses. Next to him was a woman with auburn hair and green eyes. The exact same color and shape that Harry saw when he looked into the mirror every morning.

Mum? Dad? Harry thought. The figures nodded as if they could hear his thoughts. Harry drank in the sight of the two of them as four more figures stepped out of the mist. His eyes were drawn toward the smallest figure, the one with untamable bushy hair and amber eyes. Behind her stood her parents smiling and waving at him. On the other side was Neville, his godbrother, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Family, harry thought. You all are my family.

"Well!?" Quirrell grew impatient. "What do you see?"

Looking back in the mirror, Hermione was holding the stone with mischievous smile. She handed the stone to Mirror Harry placing it into his pocket. At the exact same time, Harry felt something appear in his own pocket.

Turning back toward Quirrell, Harry pointed toward his mouth and mouthed "I'm silenced, idiot!"

Quirrell removed the silencing spell. Rejocing at the ability to speak again, Harry said.

"I see nothing! I hear nothing!" He actually managed to smile at the rage that filled Quirrell. "I know nothing!"

"Insolent boy!" Quirrell thrust his wand between Harry's eyes. "What. Do. You. See."

Swallowing hard, Harry turned back toward the mirror. His family, biologic or otherwise, was all smiling. His father in particular was giving him a thumbs up.

"I'm with my parents," Harry said, trying to be convincing. "I'm unmarked and being handed the Quidditch World Cup. I'm seeker for the English Team. I'm being celebrated for something I've actually done, not for something my parents did for me."

"He lies," the unidentified voice said again. "Let me face him."

"Master…" Quirrell answered. "You are not strong enough."

"10 years I have waited. I am strong enough… for this."

Quirrell raised his arms and started to unwind his turban. A rush of terror filled Harry as the turban hit the ground and Quirrell turned around. There, on the back of his head, was the face of Lord Voldemort.

"You are one ugly mother fucker," Harry said to VoldeQuirrell.

"Just like your father you are," Voldemort said. "He too tried to taunt me… before he died. Your mother though."

Voldemort chuckled.

"Oh she was pitiful," rage grew in Harry's heart as Voldemort taunted him. "Pleading for your life. She didn't have to die. She was so much more important than she knew. How she would have been rewarded if she just moved aside."

VoldeQuirrell extended a hand.

Rather odd, Harry thought considering I am looking at the back of his head. Extending a hand backward? Okay then.

"Join me, Harry Potter," Voldemort said. "I have seen your power. You are not unskilled. There is much that I could teach you. Together, we could be unstoppable in bringing the Wizarding World back to its roots."

"Its roots," Harry said plainly. "Purebloods above all, creatures trodden upon? You as some supposed tyrant leader? It's been tried many times by many despots the world over, it never works. I'll die before I join you."

"Death," Voldemort laughed. "I guess ordinary individuals like yourself would concern yourself with it. It has never been something put much thought into."

"Then you are a fool," Harry actually managed to laugh. "Death is the next great adventure. One which awaits us all."

"How poetic," Voldemort taunted. "That phrase should come with a white beard. Now I've had enough games. Time for me to take the stone from your pocket. Now Quirrell!"

"Acci-" He started to cast before he was interrupted.

"Expelliarmus!" A familiar voice filled the chamber. "Relashio."

The drapes around Harry slackened and he dropped to the floor as Hermione pulled the invisibility cloak off.

"Ah the mudblood," Quirrell said after snatching his wand from across the room. "I was so interested to actually meet you after you killed my troll. You ruined a lot of things that day. If you had been killed, as I had planned, I would have had free rein to collect the stone."

So you planned to kill her!? Harry's rage boiled over. All for a distraction!?

Drawing his wand, Harry started to cast.

"Diffindo," he cast at the drapes, slicing them in half. "Wingardium Leviosa, Flipendo."

Harry moved the drapes toward Quirrell, one wrapping around his body and the other around head, blinding him.

"Incarcerous," Came Hermione's voice. Ropes formed around the drapes, binding Quirrell. Pressing the attack, Harry launched his blue flame balls, igniting Quirrell's robes.

"Enough!" Quirrell screamed as he broke the bindings, doused the flames and stood up.

"Not bad, Potter," he spat. "But see what happens to those who stand against Lord Voldemort."

He turned his wand toward Hermione. Terrified of the curse to come, Harry charged, knocking them both over. Quirrell wrapped his arms around Harry's neck.

"The Boy-Who-Lived," Quirrell said. "Dies by my hand."

Harry felt his air constrict. He clawed at the hands at his throat but could not pry them away. Looking up, he saw Hermione moving toward him. Time slowed as memories rushed through his brain. Her stopping to help him at King's Cross, the smile when she threw the bean into his mouth and the sound of her giggling. The smell of the vanilla shampoo she used on her hair. He relished in reliving everything about his first friend. He remembered their classes, competing with one another and enjoying the simple act of exploring their magic together. He remembered her hug that first night in Gryffindor tower, the first he had ever received. Then, there was Christmas and her exuberance at the presents that day promised. Last, there was the forest where she stood between him and impending death. Looking into those eyes, those brilliant brown eyes, the golden specks that danced within them.

If this is to be it, Harry thought, I am glad for the time we got. Thank you for your friendship, thank you for showing what it meant to be loved.

As Harry was about to black out, Quirrell's grip slackened. The man screamed as boils appeared on his hands.

"What magic is this!?" Quirrell said.

"Stop playing around!" Voldemort screamed. "Use your wand. Kill the boy!"

"Avada-," Quirrell started the incantation. Before he could finish, Hermione slammed into him, forcing his arm up and away from Harry. "Kedavra."

A green spell shot over Harry's shoulder. Knowing he wouldn't get another chance, he pounced, wrapping his arms around Quirrell's neck. With Hermione holding him down, Harry put his full weight behind his hands. Harry felt his scar split open, like someone was poking a hot lance into it. Forcing the pain into the back of his brain, Harry pressed on. Quirrell screamed in agony as smoke rose from his body. Soon, Harry was looking at a pile of ash in purple robes. A shade with Voldemort's face rose from the ashes.

Harry fell back onto his haunches as a black mist rose from the ashes.

"We will meet again, Potter," the shade said. "And on that day, I very much look forward to killing you."

"Nice melodrama, Voldy," Harry said. "Maybe work on your speech while you plot your return."

Watching it fly out of the chamber, Harry collapsed in exhaustion. The only thing keeping him upright was Hermione who wrapped him up in a hug. Using the sleeve of her robe, she cleared his vision.

"Your scar," she said, looking him over closely. "It's... bleeding. Has it ever done that before?"

"Never," Harry said as he looked her in the eye. "How did you get through? There wasn't another vial."

"I went back to the chess room and found Neville," she explained. "He was alert but we realized we didn't know how to get back through the trap door. Our only option was to fly back out and neither of us can fly. Then I realized: the room must reset every time. I went back in, found everything just the way we found it, donned the cloak and made my way through.

"I got here just as you found the stone," Hermione said.

"Thank goodness you did," Harry said. "I would not have been able to get loose without you. He would have gotten the stone."

"That was Voldemort, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Right on the back of his head. Thank you for coming. I probably would have been dead if it wasn't for you."

"Quite impressive, the both of you," Came a new voice from the entry way. Into the room strode a smiling Albus Dumbledore. "Facing down the Dark Lord like that? Quite the brave thing to do."

"How did you know to come down?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"My boy, did you think the only thing on that door was a simple locking charm? I set up a detection ward that would alert me if anyone opened the door. From there, I set another ward at every doorway, to alert me if a someone was able to get passed an obstacle. When you set off the one with the mirror, I knew it was serious and headed back immediately."

"But how did I get the stone, sir?" Harry asked.

"Ah, a special touch of mine," Dumbledore smiled, congenially. "Only someone who wanted to find the stone but not use it, would acquire it."

Harry pulled the stone from his pocket.

"I believe we should return this to Mr. Flamel now," Harry said.

"Ah you know about Nicolas?" Dumbledore seemed amused. "You did do the thing proper then, didn't you? The Flamels and I have been talking and he feels it is time for the stone to be destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Hermione spoke for the first time. "But then they'll die."

"Yes," Dumbledore said sadly. "They have enough elixir to set their affairs in order. To the prepared mind, death is merely the next great adventure."

Dumbledore finished by looking at Harry, his eyes twinkling.

"You heard?"

"Yes. There is a listening charm on the mirror. I heard your entire confrontation with Quirinus. Your parents would be very proud, Harry. I remember your mother confronting Lord Voldemort once. She called him a- what was it?

"Oh yes!" He snapped his fingers. "She told him his mother was a hamster and his father smelt of elderberries. No idea where she came up with it but I've never seen Voldemort so enraged."

In spite of everything, Harry laughed though not as hard as Hermione as she knew where Lily's insults came from.

"Come on," Dumbledore said. "If I don't take you to the Wing, Madam Pomfrey will have my head."

Picking up Neville along the way, Dumbledore lead them to the Hospital Wing. At the door chime, a groggy Madam Pomfrey stepped into the ward.

"Please state the nature of… oh it's you," she said she laid eyes on Harry. Starting with the easier patient, she pulled her wand to scan Neville.

"Fractured sternum, mild concussion, acute exhaustion," she said. "A night of rest and he will be fine."

She moved on to Hermione.

"A few bruises, a contusion to the wrist and severe magical exhaustion. I'll keep you overnight just to be safe."

Last, she stepped up to Harry.

"Laceration to the wrist, burns on the hands and neck, exposure to dark magic and extreme magical exhaustion. Hope you like this bed because you'll be in it all weekend, Mr. Potter."

Harry and Hermione changed into pajamas that Pomfrey set out for them and slipped into their beds as Pomfrey administered a sleeping draught to Neville. Dumbledore conjured a chintz chair sat down between their beds.

"I have heard a lot about you two," Dumbledore said. "Professor Flitwick has been particularly effusive of his praise of you. He said your teamwork is quite impressive. I can see why. Combining your accuracy and speed, Miss Granger, with your power and creativity, Harry is a deadly combination. I shudder to think what will happen to those who challenge you once you are fully trained. That said, I am sorry that you felt it was necessary to take it upon yourselves to protect the stone, though I am glad to see you made good use of the cloak."

"So that was you who sent it?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded and silence overtook the Wing. Harry finally asked the question on his mind..

"Sir, why couldn't Quirrell touch me?" Harry asked the headmaster.

"It has to with your mother, Harry. When she died, she powered a strong piece of ancient magic that protected you that night. Your mother loved you so much that the magic still protects you to this day. That love is something Voldemort has neither understood nor experienced and its mere presence is so toxic to him that he cannot bear to be near you. Since Quirrell was being possessed by him at the time, the same held true for him."

"But why is the magic still active, after all these years?"

"As long as you continue to have a blood tie to your mother, that protection will remain. That is why you were raised by Petunia and her husband."

"Does that mean you knew Voldemort was still alive?"

"I was not sure but I had guessed that Voldemort would not be so easily vanquished. Yet, he was not my only worry. At the time of his fall, he still had many followers and I would have thought they'd make killing you their number one priority. That is why I added a few wards around Privet Drive to keep you safe from his followers."

"So that means I have to go back this summer, doesn't it?"

"Yes. So long as you live there for at least two weeks out of the year, the wards will recharge and you will remain safe."

"I'm safe from Voldemort but not my relatives. They hate me."

"Now, my boy, they might not be doting, but I truly doubt they hate you."

Harry chose not to respond but instead changed topics.

"Why me? Voldemort told me in the room that my mother need not have died, that he was there for me. Why did you choose to kill a baby?"

"Alas, you ask the one question I cannot answer. Not today. Perhaps when you are older, I will answer but for now, you deserve to enjoy your innocence and your childhood a while longer.

I haven't been innocent since I was five and childhood? What childhood? Harry thought, venomously.

"Whatever you think is best, Headmaster," Harry said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

At that, Dumbledore stood and walked away.

"That's bullshit," Harry startled to hear Hermione curse. "Sending you back to those… those animals just to keep you 'safe'. What about healthy? What about happy?"

"But you heard him," Harry said in a defeated tone. "I need to go back…"

"For two weeks," Hermione said.

"Pardon?"

"Dumbledore said you need to be back for two weeks," Hermione said. "After that, we're going to host you. I asked my parents at Christmas and they agreed."

"But…"

"But nothing, mister. You are staying with us and that's final."

"Well I know that tone," Harry smiled. "I've learned by now to not argue with it."

"Took you long enough," Hermione giggled.

Any mirth slid off Harry's face, something Hermione couldn't help but notice.

"What's wrong?"

"I killed a man," Harry said, looking at his hands. Pomfrey had put a salve on that healed his burns but he could still see them. His mind went to the screams as he pressing his palms to Quirrell's neck. "I can still hear his screams."

"Me too," Hermione said. "I close my eyes and I see you screaming, your scar bleeding. I see Quirrell choking you. I thought… I thought you were going to die,"

Tears slid down Hermione's cheek.

"I thought I was going to as well," Harry said. "When Quirrell had his hands around my neck, I thought of you and the memories of our year together. And you know what? I wouldn't change a thing."

"Me either," Hermione smiled tearfully.

"I thought Quirrell was going to kill you," Harry said. "When I think of it like that, I am okay with the trade-off. Stronger together, right?"

"Stronger together," Hermione nodded.

At that, Harry slid lower into bed and dropped into the most peaceful sleep he had experienced since he found out Voldemort was looking for a way to get to the stone.

(A/N: The next three chapters are written so you might see a few updates this weekend.)