Potions and Snitches
Snape and Harry Gen Fanfiction Archive

Chapter 28

Treading carefully down the stone steps, Harry squinted into the gloom, trying to make out the shapes in front of him.

Stopping half way down, he frowned, recognising the mirror that stood in the centre of the room.

And in front of it, a familiar figure – the turbaned head unmistakable.

 “You,” Harry breathed. “I knew it!”

Professor Quirrell turned to look at him, a cruel smile on his face.

 “Smarter than you look, aren’t you boy? I knew you were a danger to me right from the off. Especially after Halloween,” Quirrell said.

 “Then, you let the troll in!” Harry realised.

 “Very good, Potter. Yes. Just as suspicious as your honourable guardian, I see. Unfortunately, he wasn’t fooled and while everyone else was running around the dungeons, he went to the third floor to head me off. I knew he was going to be a problem too, after that night – ever the protector.”

 “I knew it was you who was trying to steal the Stone! And Professor Snape did too!” Harry cried.

 “He had his suspicions, perhaps,” Quirrell shrugged. “But he was too pre-occupied with his young charge to really do anything about it. Perhaps if he had, you wouldn’t be in this dreadful predicament right now…”

Harry shook his head. “That night… the night I was supposed to have detention with Professor Snape… I heard him warning you to keep away from the Stone and not to take advantage of your position in the school.”

Quirrell chuckled. “No, dear boy. What you heard  was him warning me to stay away from you!”

Harry frowned. Had he really gotten it so wrong?

 “He’d barely left me alone since the first Quidditch game. But he doesn’t understand. I’m never alone…” the man muttered, turning back to look into the mirror. “Now, what does this mirror do? I see myself… holding the Stone. But how to get it?”

 “Usssse the boy…” another voice rasped. Harry wasn’t sure where it came from, but it sounded snake-like… familiar… exactly like the voice in his nightmare earlier that year.

 “Come here, Potter! Now!” Quirrell cried.

Harry was so dumbstruck that he walked towards the professor, standing in front of the mirror himself.  

 “Tell me, what do you see? What is it?” Quirrell asked.  

Holding his breath, Harry lifted his head and looked directly into the mirror.

There in the reflection were his parents standing either side of him, exactly as they had been when he had stumbled across the mirror in an abandoned classroom earlier that year. Except, they weren’t smiling anymore, and their outlines seemed more hazy than they once had.

 “It’s okay, Harry,” – a woman’s voice. Harry heard it inside of his head, and though his mother’s lips were not moving in the reflection, he somehow knew it was hers.

His father was nodding, now.

Harry frowned, puzzled.

What’s okay?

As if in response, a third figure appeared in the reflection of the mirror, standing between Lily and James Potter.

Harry’s eyes widened, and his mother smiled at him.

Her image was becoming fainter and fainter, and before long, both she and his father had disappeared completely from view.

Casting his eyes upwards, Harry looked at the one remaining person in the reflection besides himself.

Silently, Professor Snape reached out and placed something in the pocket of Harry’s trousers.

The Stone.

Unconsciously, Harry reached down and put his hand into his pocket.

Sure enough, there it was – the cold, hard surface of the Philosopher’s Stone.

 “What do you see?!” Quirrell snapped impatiently, bringing Harry from his thoughts.

 “I’m… shaking hands with Dumbledore…” he began, shakily. “I’ve won the house cup…”

 “He liesss!” hissed the voice.

 “Tell the truth! What do you see?!” Quirrell snarled.

 “Let me speak to him…”

 “Master, you are not strong enough,” the professor replied.

 “I have strength enough for thisss…”

With that, Professor Quirrell reached up and began to unwind his turban.

Harry could only watch in horror as the fabric fell away, revealing another face protruding from the back of the DADA teacher’s head.

Slowly, Quirrell turned away from Harry, allowing the owner of the snake-like voice to see him.

 “Harry Potter, we meet again…”

 “Voldemort!” Harry realised.

 “Yesss. You see what I have become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another – a mere parasite,” he hissed. “Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can. Something that conveniently enough lies in your pocket!”

Harry turned and ran.

 “Stop him!” Voldemort cried.

But as he started back up the stone steps, a huge wall of fire sprung up before him, blocking his exit completely.

 “Don’t be a fool. Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?” Voldemort said.

 “Never!” Harry cried, indignantly.

Voldemort laughed sadistically. “Bravery. Your parents had it, too. Tell me Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together? We can bring them back. All I ask is for something in return…”

Harry’s hand went to his pocket again.

His whole life, all he had dreamed of was a chance to know his parents, to talk to them, touch them… And now, it seemed so easy, just within reach.

 “That’s it Harry. There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we will do extraordinary things. Just give me the stone!”

 “You liar!” Harry shouted.

Those feelings of longing had subsided a little recently. He was no longer the lonely child, desperate to belong, because now, he had…

 “Severus Snape?” Voldemort asked, letting out another raspy laugh.

Harry glared at the back of Quirrell’s head. How was it this thing could seemingly read his mind?

 “That pathetic excuse of a half-blood is your alternative? Dumbledore’s favourite potions master, nothing but a coward and a traitor. He will soon be dead. As will you. Kill him!” Voldemort cried.

Before Harry knew what was happening, Quirrell flew forward, pushing him to the ground and pinning him by his throat.

Harry struggled beneath him, horrified as he realised that the Stone had toppled from his pocket, landing several feet away.

Somehow, he managed to free one of his arms, gripping on to Quirrell’s hand with his own in an attempt to release his stronghold.

Suddenly, Quirrell let go, stumbling backwards and crying out as his left hand began to smoulder,  disintegrating before him.

 “What is this magic?!”

 “Fool! Get the Stone!” Voldemort hissed.

For a moment, Harry could only stare at the scene before him. And then, without a word, he threw himself forwards, placing both his hands squarely onto Quirrell’s face.

Quirrell roared in agony as his face began to crumble too.

Harry stood, rooted to the spot as the professor’s whole body followed suit, leaving a pile of dust and a bundle of robes on the floor where he had been.

Aside from the crackling of the flames the room fell silent, and Harry turned, picking up the Stone from the floor.

He turned around just in time to see the dust rising up again behind him, taking the form of a ghoulish figure which rushed at him, passing through his body and sending him to the ground.

Everything went black .

OOOOOOO

 


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