Harry, Fred, and George crouched under the Invisibility Cloak, their eyes fixed on the Marauder's Map. The dots labeled Quirinus Quirrell and Tom Riddle remained stubbornly in the same spot, deep within the Forbidden Corridor.
"They've been there for ages," Fred whispered, his voice barely audible. "Why aren't they moving?"
George frowned, tracing their path on the map with his finger. "They've got to be stuck. No one just stands around in a place like that unless something's gone wrong."
Harry nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "It makes sense. If they were trying to steal the Stone, they'd have moved on by now. But they're not making any progress."
Fred grinned, the pieces of the puzzle finally clicking into place. "It's Dumbledore. This was his plan all along."
George's eyes lit up. "Of course! That's why he made such a show of leaving the castle on a broomstick. He wanted them to think he was gone so they'd try to take the Stone."
Harry's mind raced, recalling how Dumbledore had always seemed a step ahead, even when things appeared chaotic. "He must've set a trap for them. That's why they're stuck."
Fred leaned back against the wall, a smirk on his face. "Brilliant. He knew they'd make their move the moment they thought the coast was clear."
The three of them watched the map in silence, the dots unmoving. Harry's heart pounded with a mix of relief and awe. Dumbledore had anticipated everything, and now the thieves were ensnared.
George broke the silence. "So, what do we do now? Do we just sit here and wait?"
Fred shrugged. "Looks like the old man's got it handled. But we should probably stick around, just in case."
Harry hesitated. "What if they find a way out? We can't just leave them there. What if Dumbledore's plan isn't foolproof?"
Fred chuckled. "Harry, have a little faith. This is Dumbledore we're talking about. If he's set a trap, it's not something those two can just wiggle out of."
The dim glow from the Marauder's Map illuminated their faces, their eyes fixed on the two dots labeled Quirinus Quirrell and Tom Riddle.
"They're still stuck," Fred whispered, his voice tinged with impatience. "How long do you think they'll stay there?"
"Long enough for Dumbledore to swoop in and catch them, I hope," George muttered.
Harry was about to agree when suddenly, the two dots began to move.
"They're moving!" Harry hissed, his voice barely audible.
The twins leaned in, their eyes widening as the dots slowly retreated along the corridor.
"They're coming back," George said, a mixture of excitement and dread in his tone.
"They're heading straight for the entrance," Fred added.
Harry's grip on the map tightened. His heart pounded in his chest, and he exchanged a tense glance with Fred and George. "This is it," he whispered. "They must've given up or realized they're trapped."
"Or," George said darkly, "they got what they wanted."
Harry's heart raced as he saw the dot labeled Albus Dumbledore moving toward the Forbidden Corridor from the east. Relief flickered through him for a moment before he realized the problem: Dumbledore was too far away.
"He's not going to make it in time," Harry whispered urgently.
Fred squinted at the map. "You're right. Quirrell and Riddle are almost at the entrance. If they've got the Stone…"
"We'll have to hold them off," George finished grimly.
Harry nodded. "We can't let them escape."
Fred frowned, rubbing his chin. "How exactly are we supposed to stop a dark wizard and a professor?"
George grinned, though the tension in his eyes betrayed his nerves. "We've got brains, courage, and…" He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out several small, spherical objects. "A few tricks from the Weasley arsenal."
Fred's eyes lit up. "Smoke bombs. Brilliant."
"Fireworks," George added.
Harry quickly ran through their options. "We can slow them down with these, but we'll need to be smart. They won't expect us, and that's our advantage."
Fred glanced at the approaching dots. "We'll have to split up. George and I will create a diversion, throw them off their game. Harry, you keep the Cloak on and focus on attacking from behind."
Harry nodded, gripping his wand tightly. "Let's do this."
Fred and George stood their ground, facing Professor Quirrell, whose pale complexion and twitching hands betrayed his nervousness.
"What are you doing here?" Quirrell demanded, his voice high-pitched and shaking. "This corridor is forbidden!"
Fred crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. "We could ask you the same thing, Professor. We've been curious about what's so important up here. Thought we'd have a look."
George added with a smirk, "Yeah, imagine our surprise when we saw you sneaking out of the corridor. What's got you so spooked, Professor?"
Quirrell stammered, "I—I was merely ensuring that no one was meddling where they shouldn't be."
Fred raised an eyebrow. "Funny. We could say the same."
Meanwhile, under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry's eyes were glued to the Marauder's Map. His stomach twisted as he realized something strange: Tom Riddle's dot was still in the Forbidden Corridor, but he couldn't see anyone else leaving. The only explanation was unsettling—Riddle was invisible.
Harry scanned the corridor, watching Quirrell carefully. Is he alone? Or is Riddle right there, hidden?
Before Fred or George could reply, a sharp voice echoed in the air, low and menacing. "Enough."
Harry froze as the voice sent chills down his spine. It was cold, commanding, and unmistakably powerful.
"Quirrell, get rid of them," the voice continued, though no figure had appeared.
Quirrell's demeanor shifted instantly. His stammering vanished, replaced by an eerie calm. He raised his wand. "You should not have meddled."
Fred and George's eyes widened, and George whispered, "Harry, if you've got a plan, now's the time."
Harry's mind raced. If Riddle was invisible, then he couldn't risk revealing his own position yet. But he could create chaos.
As Fred and George started their rapid-fire barrage of spells, the corridor was alive with the bright flashes of color and the echoes of incantations. Their twin bond made them an almost unstoppable force—each anticipating the other's next move without a word spoken. Their coordination was flawless, and their ability to keep Quirrell on the defensive only grew more overwhelming as the duel raged on. Quirrell, despite his sinister intentions, was no match for the twins' combined power. His shaky wandwork and fear made him increasingly vulnerable with every spell that was deflected back at him.
"Fred, he's losing his balance! Keep the pressure on!" George shouted, casting a quick "Expulso!" that sent Quirrell staggering backward.
Fred, already in sync with George's command, followed with a "Petrificus Totalus!" aimed directly at Quirrell's chest. The spell hit, locking the professor's body in place for a split second before he collapsed to the stone floor with a heavy thud, unconscious.
"That's how you do it," Fred grinned, brushing off his robes.
"Too easy," George chuckled, though his eyes remained alert, scanning the corridor for any more threats.
Harry, still hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, watched them with admiration. He knew they had been training hard for months, honing their dueling skills in the mornings with Neville and himsel, but seeing them in action against Quirrell was something else. The sheer power they wielded together was impressive.
But Harry wasn't done yet. While the twins took care of Quirrell, he quickly reached into his robes and pulled out the small stash of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs that Fred and George had given him earlier. He began setting them off strategically along the corridor. The loud bangs and blinding flashes filled the air, ensuring that even if someone was far away, they would hear the disturbance and hopefully come rushing to investigate.
Once the fireworks were set, Harry glanced back at the Marauder's Map, his heart pounding. He could see the dots of other professors starting to move in the direction of the disturbance. Professor McGonagall, Flitwick, and even Snape were making their way toward the Forbidden Corridor. That was the signal Harry had been waiting for.
"Now we just need to keep him down for a little longer," Harry muttered to himself, watching as Quirrell lay motionless on the ground. His mind raced—What about Riddle?
Harry's heart skipped a beat as Quirrell, now stirring from unconsciousness, stood up with a terrible new strength. His trembling, fearful persona was gone—replaced by something far darker. The glow in Quirrell's eyes, a sickly yellow hue, sent a chill down Harry's spine. Something was terribly wrong.
Fred and George, who had been celebrating their success, now found themselves struggling against an entirely different force. Their spells, which had effortlessly overwhelmed Quirrell moments ago, were now being blocked with terrifying ease. The professor—no, whatever Quirrell had become—raised his wand with a chilling calmness, deflecting their curses as if they were nothing.
How is he doing this? Harry thought, his eyes wide in disbelief. The spells that Quirrell was casting were not the feeble, cowardly spells Harry had seen from the professor before. No, these were dark, violent, and precise. It was as though Quirrell's body was merely a vessel for something far more sinister.
"Fred! George!" Harry whispered, but the twins were already fighting for their lives. They moved as one, their reflexes sharp as ever, but even their combined power was struggling to make an impact.
Then, as Quirrell cast yet another spell, Fred barely ducked as a Killing Curse zoomed past him, missing his ear by inches. The green light flickered briefly before disappearing into the air with a crack of thunder. Harry's blood ran cold. He knew the Killing Curse when he saw it.
In an instant, Harry knew what had to be done. He could no longer hide under the Invisibility Cloak; they were in far too deep. He had to help his friends. Without thinking, he tucked the cloak safely behind a nearby statue, out of sight, and grabbed his wand with trembling hands.
We have no time left.
The moment Harry stood up, Quirrell's yellow eyes locked onto him. A sinister smile curled across Quirrell's lips, and for the first time, Harry felt the weight of malice directed at him. He was no longer just fighting Quirrell. He was facing something far worse—a being of pure dark magic, one who had been controlling the professor from the very beginning. Harry had heard of possession before, but witnessing it firsthand was terrifying.
"Ah, Harry Potter," Quirrell's voice croaked, but there was a new layer of venom to it, a coldness that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "After a long time."
Harry gripped his wand tightly. "Let go of him, Riddle!" he shouted, though the words felt hollow in his ears. This isn't Quirrell anymore. This is something else.
Quirrell—no, Riddle—didn't flinch. Instead, he flicked his wand lazily, and Harry was thrown backward with a tremendous force, landing hard against the stone wall. His breath was knocked out of him, but he scrambled back to his feet, determination building inside him.
Fred and George, though still recovering from their own throw, pushed themselves up. They exchanged a quick, silent glance. They knew what they had to do. They might not have the same skill as Harry when it came to spell-casting, but their instincts were sharp, and they had each other's backs.
"Ready, Harry?" George called, already aiming his wand at Quirrell.
Fred nodded. "We're not letting him win."
Together, they launched a coordinated barrage of spells at Quirrell, but with an almost effortless wave of his wand, Quirrell deflected each one, twisting and shaping the magic into a deadly counterattack. Harry's stomach dropped as Quirrell's spellwork became more powerful and violent, causing the air to crackle with energy.
Harry and the twins found themselves dodging blasts of magic that seemed intent on tearing them apart. But Harry could see it—Quirrell's movements were becoming more erratic. He was still struggling to contain whatever dark magic was inhabiting him. That was their chance.
"Fred! George!" Harry shouted again, his voice rising above the chaos. "Target diffrent area!"
Without hesitation, Fred and George followed his lead, launching targeted spells aimed at Quirrell's hands. Harry took a deep breath, focused, and aimed his wand at the same target. The force of their combined spellwork hit Quirrell square in the chest. For a moment, the professor's body stiffened, and Harry thought they might have succeeded.
But it wasn't enough.
With a scream of rage, Quirrell's body convulsed, and a strange, dark mist swirled around him. His eyes flashed brightly, and he raised his wand once more. But this time, there was no hesitation—no uncertainty. The dark magic was fully in control now.
A blast of magic shot toward Harry, but he wasn't fast enough to dodge. His world went white, and everything seemed to blur. For a moment, he thought he might lose consciousness. But then, a figure appeared beside him.
"Not so fast, Quirrell."
Author's Note:
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