Chapter 16: Quirrell and Voldemort
Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape or form own any recognisable characters or settings. Everything belongs to JK Rowling
Quirrell and Voldemort
'Where is it?' Quirrell was angrily demanding of a mirror when Harry entered the chamber.
'What?' Harry said. 'Your common sense? Up your own arse probably.'
Quirrell whipped around to glare at the tall boy. 'You!' he hissed.
'And you.' Harry replied, looking bored. 'Can we duel now please? I'm rather tired.'
Quirrell looked livid. 'Master, he insults us!' he spat. 'The boy has no manners!'
'Au contraire,' Harry drawled. 'I have perfect manners. It is you who is the ill-mannered baboon.'
Quirrell spluttered for a moment before drawing himself up as tall as possible. 'You have no idea who you are dealing with, boy!' he thundered. 'The Great Dark Lord Voldemort resides with me.'
Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Well?' he said after a moment of silence. 'Where is the idiot?'
'Don't play games with me, boy,' a second voice hissed; colder and higher-pitched then Quirrell's own.
Harry ignored the warning. 'Why were you staring into a mirror anyway?' he asked. 'I doubt make-up will improve your looks much. Just stop the mirror from breaking perhaps.'
Quirrell narrowed his eyes. 'I wasn't putting on make-up,' he snapped. 'I was looking for the Philosopher's Stone. Dumbledore hid it in this mirror.'
'Right,' Harry said, his face expressionless. 'Well, good luck with that. I'll be off now.'
He turned to leave but was stopped when Voldemort spoke again.
'The boy could be of use,' the voice hissed. 'Grab him!'
Quirrell lunged forwards with arms outstretched but Harry calmly stepped aside and the professor fell flat on his face.
'You only had to ask,' Harry said mildly. He moved so he was standing before the mirror. As before he saw himself standing with his parents. He stared for a few minutes before shrugging. 'Just me with my family,' he said. 'Nothing to do with what you're looking for.'
'Lies!' Voldemort screamed. 'He lies!'
Almost immediately, Harry dove to one side as a silent jet of coal black magic shot at him.
'About time,' the tall boy complained. 'Effrego*!' he shouted.
Quirrell was not as agile as Harry and there was a piercing shriek as the curse shattered his left arm.
'You'll pay for that, Snape!' Quirrell screamed.
Harry rolled his eyes and dodged another curse. 'Yes,' he said sarcastically. 'I'm sure I will.'
Spells flew back and forth across the chamber. Harry dodged many but not all. His left arm broke; the right side of his face was burned; and he had a number of deep gashes on his body.
'Enough!' Voldemort screamed finally. 'Bring him to me!'
During the fight Quirrell's turban had somehow unravelled to reveal a face in the back of his head. The face was chalk white with glowing blood red eyes, two slits for nostrils and a horizontal gash for a mouth. The sight of it repulsed Harry.
'No wonder you cover him with a cloth,' Harry said. 'I wouldn't want to look at that either.'
'Come here, Snape!' Quirrell ordered.
'No,' Harry argued. 'I don't think I will.'
'Accio!' Quirrell barked, and Harry was magically pulled towards him.
'Must be the Summoning Charm,' Harry muttered to himself. 'I must learn that.'
As Harry drew closer, Quirrell reached out with both hands to grab him. Bony hands clasped around Harry's neck. Harry yelped as something warm and powerful surged beneath his skin, sapping his energy. Quirrell screamed at the same time, his hands shooting back to his sides.
'It burns!' he wailed painfully. 'Master, he burns me!'
'Fool!' Voldemort screamed back.
Harry thought for a moment before jumping at Quirrell and grabbing hold of an arm. Quirrell wailed again and shook his arm frantically, trying to dislodge the boy.
'Master, please!' Quirrell whimpered. 'Please help me, Master!'
Silence then a thud as Quirrell managed to throw a weakened Harry into a wall of the chamber.
'Master?' Quirrell panted painfully before screaming again as Harry knocked him backwards, planting his hands on the man's face.
Neither of them noticed the cloudy black fog that rose out of Quirrell's body to hover above them before drifting up through the ceiling and, presumably, out of the castle.
Harry was glaring down into Quirrell's face. He watched the life leave the man's pain-filled eyes. Then, satisfied the Stone was safe, he allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness.
A/N: I am soooo sorry guys! My life has been so messed up lately. First my maternal grandmother became very ill and I had to drop out of college to be her carer, then my paternal grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimers so I'm needed to care for her as well because my paternal grandfather is bed-bound. My life is incredibly complicated so I apologise for the lack of writing as I simply do not have the time right now.
Many thanks to iGymnast for betaing this for me