Chapter 143: Chapter 143: "The Final Confrontation"
For Harry, the revelation of his disguised identity to Charles and Dumbledore was insignificant. He had already accepted that keeping his Arthur Personna a secret was not going to last, especially since the centaurs knew and they had connections with Dumbledore. He didn't let this concern him too much.
Instead, Harry focused on more pressing issues. He was closely monitoring Professor Quirrell, who had taken a break from teaching due to ill health after their confrontation. The failure to secure unicorn blood, combined with the significant drain on his magic during their duel, had left Quirrell physically weakened.
Harry suspected Quirrell was resting up, regaining his strength for another attempt at the unicorn blood. With this in mind, Harry kept a vigilant watch over Quirrell's movements, ready to intercept him at the right moment to prevent any rash decisions.
As days turned into a week, Quirrell remained inactive, which puzzled Harry. Even as final exams came and went, there was no sign of movement from Quirrell. But the very night after exams concluded, Quirrell finally stirred, not heading towards the forest as Harry expected, but towards the third-floor corridor, targeting the Philosopher's Stone.
Noticing Dumbledore's absence from the castle confirmed Harry's suspicions: Quirrell was making a desperate, last-ditch effort to seize the stone, waiting for the moment when Dumbledore was away.
This was not ideal for Harry's plan. He had hoped to confront Quirrell outside the school to avoid complications or unwanted witnesses if things went awry. A confrontation within the castle walls, especially with the possibility of Voldemort's spirit making a scene, was too risky with portraits, ghosts, and house-elves around.
Left with no other choice, Harry decided to follow Quirrell. He needed to adapt his plans on the fly, aiming to thwart Quirrell's efforts without exposing his own identity or escalating the situation further.
Harry followed Professor Quirrell to the entrance of the forbidden corridor stealthily. Hidden beneath his invisibility cloak, he observed as Quirrell entered the lair where Fluffy, the giant three-headed dog, was kept. Immediately, Fluffy started barking loudly, recognizing the intruder who had bothered him repeatedly.
Quirrell, unnerved by Fluffy's aggressive response, quickly conjured a harp that began to play calming music. The barking ceased, and the beast seemed to relax and drift to sleep. However, Harry, seizing an opportunity to thwart Quirrell's plans without him noticing, silently cast a muffliato spell on the harp, ensuring that its soothing tunes wouldn't reach Fluffy.
Believing Fluffy to be asleep and no longer a threat, Quirrell turned his attention to the trap door beneath the dog. He was so focused on his goal of obtaining the Philosopher's Stone that he didn't realize the music had stopped. As he opened the trap door, the slight noise awakened Fluffy, who lunged at him fiercely. Quirrell dodged just in time, but not before Fluffy managed to tear a large piece of his cloak.
Frustrated and fearful, Quirrell raised his wand against Fluffy, ready to eliminate the obstacle permanently. However, a rough voice halted his action.
It was Voldemort, speaking through Quirrell, advising caution, "Don't. The killing curse inside the castle would surely alert Dumbledore. We have to think of another way."
"But master, this is the best time to go for the stone with Dumbledore away. We won't have another opportunity like this," Quirrell argued, frustrated by the failure of the enchanted harp.
Voldemort, ever calculating, proposed a fallback plan, "Let's change plans. Get some more unicorn blood first. After your body is well, we can still wait. These last few weeks of school, Dumbledore is going to be very busy with school and ministry duties. We can find another chance."
Agreeing reluctantly, Quirrell withdrew, and Harry, hidden nearby, couldn't help but smile at the success of his intervention. He quickly erased any signs of his tampering in Fluffy's den and left, hearing the music now playing again, which lulled the giant dog back to sleep. Harry considered cleaning up Quirrell's traces but decided against it, thinking it might lead Dumbledore to believe Quirrell had succeeded in his mission and fled with the stone.
Harry, having shadowed Quirrell closely, quickly reached the dense, shadowy confines of the Forbidden Forest. Suddenly, Quirrell stopped abruptly and spun around.
"Come out. I know you're there," Quirrell called out sharply, his voice cutting through the silence of the forest. "Stop hiding. You must be tired from following me all this way."
Harry was taken aback by the call-out. He had always trusted his cloak to render him invisible, using it effectively to trail Quirrell throughout the year without detection. Perhaps his confidence had led him too close this time, or maybe Quirrell had employed some enhanced means of detection in anticipation of his crucial mission to retrieve the stone that led to his detection.
This shattered Harry's belief in the infallibility of the Death's Cloak, especially against formidable wizards such as Voldemort, Dumbledore, or Moody who might possess means to counteract such magical invisibility. This realization urged Harry to be more cautious about relying solely on the cloak when in the presence of such powerful individuals.
With no other choice, Harry removed his cloak, revealing his Arthur disguise, and stepped forward with a composed expression.
"How did you detect me?" Harry inquired, eager to understand how his cover had been blown.
"I didn't. My master did," Quirrell responded, his voice tinged with a hint of fear.
"Your master? The other voice? When did he notice me?" Harry continued, seeking more information. He had all the time to play around with Quirrelmort.
At this moment, the raspy, harsh voice of Voldemort himself took over. "Let me speak to him… face-to-face…"
"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrel objected, concerned for Voldemort's strength.
"I have strength enough… for this…" Voldemort insisted, his voice filled with a grim determination.
Giving in, Quirrell's hands trembled slightly as he reached up to unwind his turban, revealing the grotesque face of Voldemort fused at the back of his head. Voldemort's eyes, red and piercing, met Harry's with a chilling intensity.
"I noticed you from the very beginning," Voldemort declared with an all-knowing tone. "That's why I stopped Quirrell from moving forward with our plan for the stone. I didn't want you sneaking in and snatching away the fruits of my hard labor."
Harry watched the back of Quirrell's head move as Voldemort spoke, finding the situation both amusing and unsettling.
"You're mistaken, I have no interest in the stone," Harry clarified.
"Why oppose me then? Who are you?" Voldemort demanded, unable to recall Harry among his known enemies.
"I'm just someone who wants to protect the unicorns and the forest. That's why I'm thwarting your plans," Harry responded.
"Are you doing all this just for those creatures?" Voldemort scoffed, unable to comprehend Harry's motivations.
"Yes, they matter more to me than an unknown like you. Who are you anyway? You look somewhat familiar," Harry countered, feigning ignorance.
"I am the most feared dark lord of this era. You should know of me and fear me," Voldemort declared with arrogance.
Harry, unimpressed, joked, "Oh, you're the guy with no nose and no name."
Voldemort, infuriated by the mockery, retorted, "How dare you! It seems you wish to die."
"Considering our last encounter, do you really think you can defeat me? You're too weak, old dark lord," Harry taunted, dismissing Voldemort's threat.
Voldemort, his patience exhausted, decided, "It appears you desire death. I would have offered you a chance to serve me, but now you leave me no choice. Kill him!"
Quirrell, on receiving Voldemort's command, quickly turned to face his opponent. However, before he could act, he was struck by a spell that sent his wand flying out of his hand. Harry had cleverly used the moment of distraction to cast a silent Expelliarmus, effectively disarming Quirrell and leaving him defenseless.
Staring angrily but helplessly at Harry, Quirrell realized he had no means to fight back.
Harry spoke "Goodbye, Quirrell. You were the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher the students have had in a while. They will miss you. And goodbye to you too, no-nose Dark Lord."
Voldemort responded with fury, his voice echoing with a supernatural force. "I am immortal! I won't die. You will regret your actions today. I will return for revenge."
Voldemort's threats were merely a ruse, as Quirrel suddenly surged forward, flying at a speed that would stun most. Yet, for Harry, now a trainee knight with sharpened senses, Quirrell's rapid approach seemed sluggish. Effortlessly, Harry sidestepped the attack and delivered a forceful punch, sending Quirrell hurtling toward a nearby massive tree.
Unimpressed, Harry taunted, "Is that your last effort? I expected more from a so-called Dark Lord. I've had enough entertainment for one day; it's time for you to leave."
As Harry prepared to deliver the final blow, an unexpected reaction occurred at the spot where he had struck Quirrell. The skin there began to blister and burn, causing Quirrell to scream in agony.
Harry understood immediately—his grandmother's sacrifice had activated, unleashing its protective magic.
Voldemort, bewildered and alarmed, demanded, "What is this? What did you do?"
Harry, seizing the opportunity to mislead him, replied confidently, "It was one of my tests. Seems like it worked. How do you like being bested by the blood of the Boy Who Lived?"
This was the best explanation Harry could muster to mislead Voldemort. He realized that if he wasn't convincing enough, Voldemort, with his sharp intelligence, might deduce Harry's true identity. Such a revelation could lead to severe complications in the future.
Satisfied with his quick thinking, Harry felt that his fabricated story about the blood of "the Boy Who Lived" would not only mislead Voldemort but also ensure that future events, particularly the ones involving the Goblet of Fire, unfolded as they had originally. This narrative was crucial because it prevented Voldemort from possibly using the blood of any other enemy for his resurrection, which could lead to unpredictable changes in the timeline.
Voldemort, confused, asked, "Potter's blood?"
"Yes, it's Charles Potter's blood," Harry stated, seizing the chance to end the confrontation swiftly. "I must leave now; there's no time for more explanations. Goodbye, and here, take some more of Potter's blood."
With that, Harry pulled out a vial of his own blood that he had stored for experimental purposes. He hurled it towards the weakened Quirrellmort. As the vial shattered, the blood splattered over Quirrell, causing immediate, searing pain where it touched.
Quirrell's screams echoed through the forest, desperate and unheeded. Voldemort, furious and helpless, commanded him to get up and continue the fight, cursing Charles Potter's name repeatedly.
But it was too late; the protective magic of the sacrificial blood had done its work, burning Quirrell's form into nothingness within moments.
From the remains, rose the ethereal wraith of Voldemort, emerging in anger and desperation. Filled with rage, it lunged at Harry.
But Harry was prepared. He knew one spell potent enough for such an encounter: the Fiendfyre. Conjuring a blazing thunderbird from his wand, he directed it at the spectral Voldemort. Sensing the imminent danger, Voldemort quickly veered off, evading the fiery attack.
Seeing that he had no chance of winning, Voldemort quickly fled. Harry's magical fire, though fast, couldn't catch the swiftly escaping wraith.
Watching Voldemort flee, Harry extinguished the Fiendfyre. It was a disappointment, not being able to vanquish him completely. Harry realized that without a deeper understanding of soul magic, he couldn't finish Voldemort for good—at least not until Voldemort regained a physical form.
His immediate task complete, Harry turned his attention to erasing all traces of their clash. He meticulously cleaned the area of any residual blood and magical signatures, ensuring no evidence was left behind. He also destroyed what remained of Quirrell's body, and stored Quirrell's wand in his bag. It might not be useful now, but it could have its purposes later.
With the scene thoroughly sanitized, Harry made his way back to the safety of Hogwarts. The immediate dangers had been addressed, and he looked forward to some peace before his departure home.
Chapter 144: Chapter 144: "Saving Gryffindor Troublemakers Part - 1"
As Harry made his way back to the Ravenclaw Tower, relieved after successfully completing his mission, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The tense days of keeping a close eye on Quirrel were finally over.
However, his sense of accomplishment was quickly overshadowed by an urgent problem. Barely inside the Ravenclaw tower corridor, Harry was met by Neville Longbottom, who was visibly anxious and agitated. Neville was pacing near the entrance, looking both excited and worried.
"Harry, there you are!" Neville exclaimed, rushing over. "I've been searching for someone to get you, but finding you here is perfect. We need to hurry—Charles and the others are in serious trouble!"
Harry's expression turned serious. "What happened? Where are they?" he asked, puzzled about any remaining dangers now that Quirrell was no longer a threat.
"They went to the third-floor corridor—to stop Professor Snape from taking the Philosopher's Stone," Neville blurted out, his words rushing out.
Harry paused, trying to make sense of the situation. Despite having neutralized the immediate threat to the Philosopher's Stone himself, Charles and the others had rushed headlong into those dangerous obstacles, operating under the belief that the stone was still at risk.
"Why didn't they talk to a professor first?" Harry questioned, his voice tinged with frustration thinking of the canon events somehow repeating themselves. "If they really believed Snape was after the stone, how did they think they could handle him by themselves?"
Neville looked visibly upset, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I tried to stop them," he confessed, his cheeks reddening at the memory. "Hermione surprised me and stunned me before I could do anything effective. If not for that, I might have been able to hold them back."
He continued, his voice shaky, "After I recovered, I looked for Professor McGonagall to inform her, but she wasn't in her office. I didn't know what to do next, so I came looking for you. Harry, I'm really worried; they could be in serious trouble."
Harry, realizing the seriousness of the situation, paused to consider the potential dangers facing the golden trio. He remembered the sequence of events that led the canon trio to believe the stone was under threat: Dumbledore's absence from the castle and the sight of a harp playing to a sleeping Fluffy, which they interpreted as evidence that someone was attempting to steal the stone.
As these thoughts raced through his mind, Harry suddenly remembered Quirrel's harp he had left playing in Fluffy's chamber. This, he realized, would certainly convince Charles and his sidekicks that someone had indeed passed that way, potentially leading them to think the stone was in some real danger of getting stolen. They could also get past Fluffy using the harp's music.
However, with Quirrell going through the traps before them, Harry believed their chances of getting to the final room were slim. One major obstacle remained—the troll. Harry knew that the three first years stood no chance against such a huge troll and reasoned that they would likely halt their advance upon encountering it. Yet, he felt compelled to ensure their safety. Despite his differences with Charles, he had no desire to see anyone die.
With a sense of urgency, Harry turned to Neville. "Alright, lead the way, Neville. We need to get there fast."
Neville nodded, his face marked by concern and determination. Together, they rushed out of the tower, their steps quickening as they headed toward the forbidden corridor, each moment critical in preventing a potential disaster.
At the entrance to the forbidden corridor, Harry confidently walked in, aware that he didn't need to be cautious about any alert wards this time; he was acting openly.
As they entered the dimly lit room, Harry and Neville barely had time to adjust their eyes when Fluffy, the formidable three-headed dog, leaped towards them, growling ferociously. Caught off guard and unable to dodge with Neville by his side, Harry opted for a direct approach. He raised his arm and firmly smacked down on the middle head of the dog.
This action momentarily silenced the growling from one head, but the other two heads continued their aggressive stance. Without hesitation, Harry delivered the same firm smack to the remaining heads. The impact was enough to subdue them; recognizing the threat of Harry's raised fist again, they backed down, not wanting to receive another blow.
Lesson learned, Fluffy retreated to a corner of the room, whimpering. Harry had been careful not to use too much force; he knew he could have seriously hurt the dog if he hadn't held back. Reflecting on how well-behaved Fluffy had been during his last visit, Harry decided against further action.
Though he noticed the broken harp that when fixed could have soothed the dog, he preferred the direct approach. It was not only more enjoyable for him but also effectively got the job done.
With a gesture to Neville to follow, they moved forward. Neville, wide-eyed, trailed behind Harry, deeply impressed and a bit frightened by Harry's ability to handle such a fearsome creature with his bare hands. He silently vowed never to cross Harry; the consequences of angering him seemed too daunting to consider.
Reaching the trap door, Harry confidently lifted it, revealing a pitch-black space below.
"Jump right in," Harry said, with a hint of a smirk.
Neville hesitated, his nerves frayed, but bolstered by a surge of Gryffindor bravery and Harry's encouraging look, he leaped into the darkness. Harry watched with amusement before following closely behind.
After falling down the trapdoor into the pitch dark below, Harry landed gently, immediately noticing Neville caught in the grip of Devil's Snare. Seeing an opportunity for a teaching moment—since they weren't in immediate danger—Harry decided to guide Neville rather than simply rescue him.
"Stop flailing around, Neville," Harry instructed calmly. "Think about what kind of plant has ensnared you and what you need to do to escape."
Hearing Harry's composed voice helped Neville to calm down. He recalled his Herbology lessons. "It's Devil's Snare! It shrinks away from sunlight if I remember correctly."
"Exactly," Harry affirmed. "Now, show me how you'd handle it. The spell you need is 'Lumos Solem.' Focus your intent—it's crucial in spell casting. We need to hurry; your friends might be in trouble."
Despite his nerves, Neville was motivated by the thought of his friends in danger. He took a deep breath, raised his wand, and firmly cast, "Lumos Solem." A brilliant blue light burst from his wand, hitting the plants.
Harry watched with a small smile as the Devil's Snare recoiled and withered under the intense light, freeing them both. Neville's successful spell not only cleared their path but also boosted his confidence.
After they left the room with the Devil's Snare, Harry noticed blood drops leading into the next area, indicating that the trio hadn't escaped from Fluffy unscathed. Clearly, one of them had been injured.
"Someone's hurt, Neville. We need to move fast," Harry urged, quickening his pace.
They rushed into the next room, which had drastically changed from Harry's last visit. The flying keys and brooms that once filled the air were now absent, their remnants scattered and embedded in the door leading out.
Harry opened the door and stepped through, followed closely by Neville. In the chess room, they found Ron lying unconscious on the floor. Neville, alarmed, ran to his side, calling his name.
Harry approached and examined Ron. He found a wound on Ron's leg, roughly bandaged with torn cloth—this was clearly where Fluffy had injured him. Other than his leg, Ron seemed fine. He had likely fainted from the exhaustion, pain, and blood loss.
Harry carefully replaced the makeshift bandage with proper first aid to stabilize the wound. Knowing they couldn't delay, he urged Neville to keep moving. They didn't have the luxury of time to fully heal Ron with magic. The rest of the work was left for Madam Pomphrey.
Harry was particularly concerned about the next obstacle: a fully grown troll that was now even more of a threat since Charles and Hermione would have to face it without Ron's help.
As Harry stepped into the troll room, the silence unsettled him. It was not a good sign. He quickened his pace, with Neville trailing behind, puzzled by the sudden change in Harry's demeanor.
Inside, they were greeted by the sight of a massive troll lying unconscious on the floor. Relieved, Harry deduced that it had been subdued by the duo, likely with the levitation charm like in the canon based on the troll's position and the club that lay discarded nearby. This clever feat by Charles and Hermione was impressive enough to earn Harry's silent commendation.
Neville, wide-eyed, turned to Harry. "Is that a troll? How did Charles and Hermione manage to get past it? It's enormous!"
Harry explained, "They probably used a simple first-year spell, the levitation spell, to knock it out. Want to try waking it up and testing that theory yourself?"
Neville quickly shook his head, "No, thanks. Maybe some other time. We should keep going, Charles and Hermione might still need our help."
Amused by Neville's response, Harry agreed, and they continued onward. Just as they were about to leave the room, a noise echoed from behind them, snapping them to attention. Both spun around, wands at the ready, prepared for whatever might come next.
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