One Day They'll Know Your Name

Name we call ourselves

When he woke up he was tied in magical ropes. One of them covered his mouth so he couldn't talk. Without moving, Harry looked around the room as far as he could see from his spot on the floor. It wasn't much, but what he could see made him nervous. There was a mirror that he recognized as the Mirror of Erised and Professor Quirrel, who still had his ridiculous turban. Harry snapped his eyes closed and relaxed as much as he could when the professor turned towards him. Seeming satisfied that Harry was still unconscious, Quirrel began talking to himself.

"Master, I don't understand. Where is the Stone?"

A second voice came from Quirrel's turban and Harry tensed at the high, hissing sound of it before relaxing again. The longer he pretended to be unconscious without being discovered, the more information he could gather.

"Usssse the boy."

Quirrel turned toward Harry and he knew his time was up. Hopefully Quirrel would use a spell or something instead of kicking him awake like his uncle always used to do.

"Ennervate," Quirrel said. Harry shot up, or tried to. He looked around frantically, then saw Quirrel and relaxed. The turbaned professor took off the rope over his face.

"Professor! Thank goodness you're here! Someone must have kidnapped me and brought me here! Where is this place?" Harry mentally crossed his fingers hoping that Quirrel wouldn't kill him if he thought that the man was here to save him. His hopes were almost dashed for a moment as Quirrel looked at him in obvious surprise and Harry flinched back a little when the older man reached for him before he could catch himself. He decided it wasn't that far out of character. He often flinched when unexpected touches came.

"Yes, of course, Potter. Let's get these ropes off of you." The professor's voice was almost strained, but Harry pretended to take no notice as the man untied him. "Come stand in front of this mirror for a moment, Potter. What do you see?"

"I already know what I'm going to see, sir," Harry replied softly. "I found it during Christmas break. It shows my parents."

"Look into it now, Potter. It might have changed for you. It does occasionally."

Harry knew he wasn't going to get out of it this time, so he went and stood in front of the mirror. He watched as a replica of himself pulled a weird red stone out of its pocket, winked and put it back. Harry felt a weight settle into his real pocket and forced himself not to reach for it. "I just see my parents, professor. I don't know what you wanted me to see." He tried to look innocent, but not too innocent. It must have worked, because Quirrel just nodded.

"The boy liessss." Harry hadn't forgotten about the strange voice, but he still jumped when he heard it, not having expected it to speak while he was around. "Let me ssspeak to him." Harry stayed where he was, acting like the confused first year he was as Quirrel began unraveling his turban.

"Professor?" Harry asked. Quirrel didn't answer. The turban finally came undone the entire way and Harry stifled a scream as he saw the noseless face appear on the back of his least favorite professor's head. For some reason it seemed almost familiar. It was a face from his childhood nightmares, accompanied by a green light nearly the same color as his eyes. It made him glad he wore glasses, since he couldn't see his eyes as easily.

"Harry Potter," the strange familiar voice said. Harry caught himself before he got killed correcting his last name. "I told Quirinusss to collect you before coming into this placcce to find the Ssstone. I sssee he hasss actually done well for onccce. Give me the Ssstone boy."

Harry froze. How was he going to get out of this? He decided to just stall for now and hope someone got here quickly. "Stone? I don't know what stone you're talking about. Is it like a rock? Or maybe a boulder? Or maybe just a pebble? What exactly qualifies a chunk of hardened earth as a stone?" He could tell this wasn't working, but he kept talking. "And Professor Quirrel? Your first name is Quirinus? Why would your parents do that to you? I mean the oldness is nothing but the alliteration is terrible."

Quirrel broke in at this moment. "Many of your teachers have alliteration. It is not terrible. Now, give the Dark Lord the Stone, foolish boy," he snapped. "No more stalling. No one is coming for you."

Harry heard something, just barely, that sounded like it came from the wall of flames and barely suppressed his grin. Finally. He hoped it was someone helpful like Professor Snape, or Professor Sprout. He slowly backed toward the wall opposite the flames, leading the man along. Then he remembered. Quirrel had two faces. He quickly headed towards the mirror instead, at this point just trying to get away so whatever professor his friends had retrieved could take care of this, thing.

He reached into the pocket opposite the Stone, hoping desperately for a piece of crumpled parchment, something. His hand closed around a slender piece of wood. Harry almost froze, but instead pulled his wand slowly and carefully out of his pocket and into his sleeve. Then, carefully, he readied his wand for quick removal. Professor Flitwick stepped through the flames and Harry instantly dropped his wand into his waiting palm, sending a quick Petrificus Totalus at the two faced creepily familiar man as he turned to see who this new person was. Harry quickly followed up with the spell to make the creepy man-thing vomit up slugs. He wondered for a moment if it would work on both faces and quickly found the answer was yes. It was a nightmare inducing sight.

Professor Flitwick paused for a moment, then continued on, casting Stupefy and knocking the thing out.

"Good spell work, Mr. Totalus. Thirty points to Slytherin for knowing when and what to cast on an opponent using the spells you already know. The slug-vomiting was simply genius. You can't speak if you're vomiting, and although some people can cast wordlessly and wandlessly, you need extreme focus, which most cannot keep while vomiting. Very good."

Harry slumped, almost falling over. Professor Flitwick caught him.

"W-who was that? I feel like I've seen him before."

Professor Flitwick didn't answer for a minute. "You have. Once. The night your parents died. That is the Dark Lord He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named." The diminutive professor made sure Harry could stand and walk by himself, then levitated the bound, unconscious, and still vomiting slugs body as he led Harry towards another door that Harry hadn't noticed.

"This door can only be opened from this side or by Headmaster Dumbledore himself," Professor Flitwick explained. "It ensures that if there is an accident the headmaster can get here quickly, and also that if you need a quick escape, you have one where you don't need to go through the traps again."

Harry nodded, half stumbling as they exited the room. Professor Flitwick led Harry to the Hospital wing, floating the body in front of them. As soon as they reached the room, Harry collapsed on a bed. Madam Pomphrey ran in from the back room.

"Oh dear! Mr. Potter! What brings you here! And Filius! Is that Quirinus?"

"Organza," Harry muttered. Madam Pomphrey ignored him and continued to interrogate Professor Flitwick, whose name was also apparently alliterative.

"Poppy, calm down. Take care of Mr. Totalus here and I will explain everything. Do not help Quirinus. He is exactly as he should be. Let me just send a message to Severus and Albus."

Huh. Poppy Pomphrey. More alliteration. Harry guessed that 'Severus' and 'Albus' were Professors Snape and Dumbledore. Albus Snape sounded very strange so there was even more alliteration. Maybe Quirrel had a point with that. It made him wonder what Professor McGonagall's first name was and if it also had alliteration.

Professor Flitwick said something that Harry didn't catch as he was thinking about the professors names, and a strange ball of light blue light came out of his wand. It made Harry feel safe and he automatically relaxed as Professor Flitwick spoke to the ball and it disappeared. Professor Flitwick double checked the unconscious thing and made sure it stayed unconscious as Madam Pomphrey cast detection spells at Harry.

"The poor lad is magically drained! How is he still awake?" Madam Pomphrey sounded somewhere between impressed and disapproving. Harry gave a jaw cracking yawn, and decided to answer.

"Alliteration," was all he got out before he yawned again. Right after, he fell into a deep sleep