The One who Saved Harry

Chapter Fifteen

Harry drank the potion in one gulp, but left a bit in case Dumbledore or someone finally realized what was going on and came down to help. Without hesitating, he stepped through the flames and through the door. Although he had everything figured out, he couldn't help the slight surprise he got when he saw that purple turban. He had hoped he was wrong. 

Quirrell turned around. "Hello, Potter." 

Harry refused to back down. "Professor. What are you doing here?" 

Quirrel laughed a humorless laugh. "You already know that, don't you, Potter?"

Harry stared directly into Quirrel's eyes. He knew that Quirrel wanted him to look away, so he refused. "Of course I do. I also know that Voldemort is hidden beneath your turban. What happened to you? You were Uncle Q! Why did you change?" 

Quirrel chuckled again. "The man you knew as Uncle Q was weak. Powerless. My master has changed that. We shall return him to his body, and he will rise, stronger than ever before!" 

"Why don't you already have the Stone, then?" Harry challenged. "You've been here for a while, I know you have." 

Quirrel studied Harry's face. "This mirror is the key to getting the Stone, I know it is. But how?" he turned to face the mirror again. "Should I break it? I see myself presenting the stone to my master... but how do I get it?" 

A high, cold voice that didn't belong to Quirrel or Harry echoed throughout the room. 

"Use the boy." 

"Yes, come here Potter!" Quirrel snapped. 

Harry slowly walked forward towards him, knowing he must lie. Whatever he saw, he must. Lie. 

"What do you see?" Quirrel snapped. 

"I'm... shaking hands with Dumbledore." Harry improvised. "I've won the House cup for Gryffindor." 

Of course, Harry had seen nothing of the sort. He'd seen himself reach into his pocket, and pull out the Sorcerer's Stone. As his mirror-self replaced the Stone in his pocket, something heavy had fallen into real Harry's pocket. 

He had the Stone.

"He lies." That same high voice echoed throughout the room again. "He is of no use alive. Kill him."

Quirrel turned, and flew at Harry, his hand outstretched. Harry barely had time to take a single step backwards before Quirrel was on top of him. 

Harry couldn't breath. Quirrel's hand was tightening around his throat. Gasping for air, Harry grabbed Quirrel's hand, trying to pry it off. 

Quirrel screamed, but did not let go. Harry's vision was blurring, he needed air, he was going to black out... 

Harry tried to shove Quirrel off by pushing his face. Quirrel knocked his hand away, and used the hand not around Harry's throat to keep Harry's arms pinned to the ground. 

This is it. Harry thought, just before blacking out. This is how I'm going to die.

And everything went black. 

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This was terrible, I know. But hopefully the next chapter will be better.