Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Hermione X Self Insert)

Chapter 20 - A Man With Two Faces

Harry walked down the stairs slowly. Halfway down, he winced, feeling his scar burning, and saw the last person he expected standing before the Mirror of Erised.

Professor Quirrell.

"You!" Harry exclaimed, bewildered.

"Me." Quirrell replied calmly, turning around to face the boy. Harry couldn't help but notice that Quirrell's stutter had magically disappeared.

"No. I-it can't be." Harry said. "Snape, h-he was the one—"

"Yes. He does seem the type, doesn't he?" Quirrell interrupted him. "Next to him, who would suspect p-p-p-poor st-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

"But-but that day, during the Quidditch match, Snape tried to kill me." Harry was desperately trying to make sense of the whole thing.

The professor gave Harry an evil smile. "No, dear boy. I tried to kill you."

Harry eyed him in disbelief and confusion.

"And trust me," Quirrell continued. "If Snape's cloak hadn't caught fire and broken my eye contact, I would have succeeded, even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse."

Realisation hit Harry like a steam locomotive. "Snape was trying to save me?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"I knew you were a danger to me right from the off." Quirrell answered. "Especially after Halloween."

"Then–then you let the troll in on Dayton and Hermione." Harry deduced.

Quirrell nodded. "Very good, Potter, yes. Mr. Cahill and Miss Granger sure were fooled. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't. While everyone else was running about the dungeon, he went to the third floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again."

He turned towards the mirror again; Harry winced as his scar burned again.

"He rarely left me alone." Quirrell went on. "But he doesn't understand. I'm never alone, never." Quirrell stared into the mirror. "Now, what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone. But how do I get it?"

Harry was not expecting what happened next.

"Use the boy." An unseen inhuman voice hissed in response to Quirrell's question regarding the stone. Harry looked around, wondering where in the name of Merlin the voice was coming from.

"Come here, Potter. Now!" Quirrell ordered. Harry slowly walked down the stairs, towards Quirrell and the mirror.

"Tell me... what do you see?" Quirrell asked the boy.

Harry looked into the mirror, and for a few seconds, saw him standing next to Quirrell, then his reflection reached into its pocket and pulled out a gleaming red ruby, the Philosopher's Stone; Harry stared in amazement as his reflection smiled and winked, then put the stone back in its pocket. Harry felt his pocket and realised the Stone really was in his pocket, then looked up again.

"What is it?" Quirrell asked again, glancing at Harry while speaking. "What do you see?"

Harry took one look at Quirrell, then back at the mirror, determined not to let Quirrell know that he had the Stone. "I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the House Cup." He said.

"He lies." The inhuman voice said.

"Tell the truth!" Quirrell shouted angrily at Harry. "What do you see?!"

"Let me speak to him." The voice ordered.

"Master, you are not strong enough." Quirrell replied as Harry backed away.

"I have strength enough for this." The voice insisted.

Quirrell reached up and started unwrapping his turban as he turned so his back was to the mirror. Harry turned toward the staircase into the room, wondering whether he should try to escape, then turned towards Quirrell again. Finally, Quirrell removed the turban, revealing a scary-looking chalk white face.

Voldemort.

He craned around and opened his eyes.

"Harry Potter, we meet again." The Dark Lord spoke.

"Voldemort." Harry said, realising his identity.

"Yes." Voldemort affirmed. "You see what I've become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another, a mere parasite. 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."

Realising Voldemort was referring to the Philosopher's Stone, Harry turned and ran back up the stairs.

"Stop him." Voldemort demanded, and Quirrell snapped his fingers, instantly causing walls of fire to block all the exits, trapping Harry in the room.

"Don't be a fool!" Voldemort said to Harry. "Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?"

"Never!" Harry said defiantly, vigorously shaking his head.

The Dark Lord laughed. "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."

In the mirror, Harry's parents appeared in the reflection.

"All I ask for is something in return." Voldemort continued as Harry took the Stone from his pocket.

"That's it, Harry. There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we'll do extraordinary things. Just give me the stone!" James and Lily Potter faded from the reflection.

"You liar!" Harry bellowed.

"Kill him!" Voldemort commanded.

Under orders, Quirrell soared into the air and grabbed hold of Harry with one hand on his throat. The two fell to the steps, causing the Stone to fall out of Harry's reach as Quirrell choked him. Suddenly, Harry put his hand on Quirrell's in an attempt to get him off. Smoke furled from under his hand as Quirrell winced and screamed in pain. He backed up away from Harry, his hand crumbling into ash and dust.

"What is this magic?" Quirrell asked in incredulity, as his hand disintegrated.

"Fool! Get the stone!" Voldemort roared.

Quirrell walked forward towards Harry, who then touched Quirrell's face with his hands, causing Quirrell to scream in pain, and especially Voldemort to wince. Harry looked on, horrified as Quirrell backed up with his face horrendously burned. Quirrell crumbled as he walked forward, turning his body completely in ash and dust, and fell to the floor, leaving only his clothing.

Harry gasped, as he looked at his own hands and hurried over to the Stone, picking it up. However, from behind, dust clouds formed from Quirrell's corpse, causing Harry to turn around as the dust clouds with Voldemort's face rushed forward screaming and going through Harry, who also screamed. Voldemort flew away, as Harry fell to the ground, unconscious, holding the Philosopher's Stone in an outstretched hand.