Harry Potters Twin Book One

Voldemort Is Always With Him

Quirrell stood in front of a mirror I recognized very well, and I couldn't help but feel grossed out by the sight. There stood a follower of Voldemort, a follower of a monster, in front of one of my most happiest of memories. The sight of the smelly man with the ugly turban in front of the mirror somehow tainted the quality of my memory.

I wrinkled my nose as him and forced myself to remain calm. I needed a clear head if I was going to duel him.

“Well,” I drawled, putting my hands on my hips. Quirrell turned around, not looking at all surprised by my sudden appearance. “Wouldn't my brother be surprised to see you here instead of Snape? I, of course, knew you were faking it all along,” I leaned forward, sneering at him. “A fake stutter? Really? Don't you think that was over doing it? And that diversion you played on Halloween was really low; setting a troll out on a bunch of helpless students.”

“I knew you were a brilliant witch for your age, Potter,” Quirrell replied calmly. I was a little disappointed that he wasn't shaking in his shoes. “But I have to say that neither of us expected you to figure it out.”

“Us meaning you and Voldemort,” I said, suddenly being more cautious about the room around me. Where was Voldemort hiding?

“Yes,” Quirrell twitched. “You were foolish to come, Potter, but I am glad that you did. Now we must await your brother, and only then will my waiting be complete.”

I gave him a dirty look. “Why bring my brother to this? He still hasn't figured out that Snape isn't the bad guy, at least in this situation. I can defeat you just fine on my own.”

Quirrell smiled, and the sight was hideous. “There is the Potter arrogance that has become so famous in the wizarding world. Your brother is so humble, I assumed it skipped a generation.”

I blushed furiously at the obvious insult.

“But I suppose your mother's intelligence was another thing your brother missed out on,” Quirrell pondered this for a moment, before eying me triumphantly. “All the teachers were suspicious of you, you know. Always studying, eating too fast, and copying everything they said on a piece of parchment. McGonagall was worrying her bun off.”

The teachers had been weary of me. I didn't know how to take this; I wasn't close to the professors in any way, but they had taught me everything I knew about the wizarding world, and I had inadvertently formed a bond with them.

I shook this off. Just because Quirrell said this, didn't mean that it was true. “I have to admit,” I said. “There is something I never figured out. Why did Snape try and help Harry and me during the Quidditch match? He doesn't seem like the type of person who would care if we died.”

“Who knows,” Quirrell shrugged his thin, pointy shoulders carelessly. “But it was useless. Because after all that, I'm going to kill you right here.”

I took out my wand; I didn't like the way he was looking at me. It was as though he'd been waiting for this very moment, for a chance to kill me.