บท 23: The-Man-With-Two-Faces.
It was Quirrell.
- You!? - Harry exclaimed, feigning surprise, Quirrell smiled. His face had no twitch.
- I... - He replied calmly. - I was wondering if I'd find you here, Potter.
- But... what?... And Snape... - Harry had to hold himself back from laughing at the presumptuous style of his teacher who didn't suspect the reality.
- Severus? - Quirrell laughed and it wasn't that usual shaky laugh, it was cold and sharp, almost as if he were someone else. - Yes, Severus is the type, isn't he? So useful to have him fluttering around like a bat. Next to him, who would suspect the p... p... poor little stuttering P... Professor Quirrell? - He had ended up pretending to be the scared little Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
- But Snape tried to kill me! I saw that when I charged at him and accidentally hit you in that Quidditch game. - Harry explained with a "perplexed" face.
- No, no, no. I tried to kill you, boy! I even thought you had discovered me when you took off my turban..., but no, I think I overestimated yet another half-blood first year. - Quirrell said everything as if this was something common, even as if he didn't have the soul to understand what was right and wrong. - I would have achieved this if Snape hadn't been muttering a counter-spell, trying to save him every moment.
- Snape was trying to save me? - Harry muttered to himself, but this time he was truly surprised.
- "I think that actually makes sense." - Harry thought about Snape's first questions in his first potions class and the meaning behind them.
- Of course. - Quirrell said calmly. - Why do you think he wanted to referee the next game? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Which is funny really… He needn't have bothered. I couldn't have done anything with Dumbledore watching.
- All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he actually managed to make himself unpopular, actually doing far more actions for a student than any teacher at this school has ever done...
- And what a waste of time, if after that I'm going to kill him tonight. - Quirrell said with Harry's face closing. - It doesn't matter Dumbledore, it doesn't matter Hogwarts. My master will be completely immortal, having the elixir of life in his possession. And, I... I will be remembered as the right hand of the greatest Dark Lord, and the old Quirrell will never be remembered again. - Quirrell proclaimed with Harry smiling internally for finally understanding something.
- So... what do you hear with Quirrell? I mean, the real one? - Harry asked in confusion.
- Oh... well, that's a shell, although it's not perfect, it was a good choice for someone so familiar with the dark arts to be able to teach how to defend themselves against them. And let's face it... it wasn't at all complicated to invade Hogwarts and make a mess of the dungeons with the Dark Lord right under Dumbledore's nose.
- But getting straight to the point, Quirrell is in here... surrounded by a mist of darkness, let's say a possession may not leave a great feeling and a soulless shell cannot understand common sense or petty things like kindness, compassion or evil. - The supposed evil Quirrell explained as he turned to the mirror there in the room, illuminated by the flames.
It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quilldemort. It was the Mirror of Erised:
- This mirror is the key to finding the stone. - Quilldemort murmured, tapping the frame lightly. - Dumbledore could be trusted to invent such a thing... but he's in London... and I'll be far away when I get back.
Quilldemort walked, analyzed, and when he came out from behind the mirror he returned to look greedily at whatever was being reflected.
- I see the Stone... I see my master back in his ascension to how he was before his first fall... but how should I obtain it.
- You know... no matter how much you say and say again that you are the target of a possession... or the Dark Lord himself. I don't believe it. - Harry said, Quilldemort's features sharpening as he saw him through the mirror's reflection. - I don't believe Voldemort is alive, I don't believe you are him, I only see a little teacher with a boring little life, who has a sinister double personality.
His forehead was burning and hurting like hell all the time, but Harry had already been through more pain than that for it to interrupt his focus now.
- Who said I'm the master? No... what I am, I'm a renewed Quirrell. - He said, smiling maniacally. - I was a fool when I was traveling through the world five years ago. I was a foolish boy back then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Powerful by the common wizarding standards, but mentally weak to understand that power is what matters. No matter where it comes from or what it costs to obtain.
- I even allow the old Quirrell to have control occasionally... to give his ridiculous classes, stutter in the corridors, and oh... when he failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he became very frightened. The master had to punish him, and from then on it was just me dominating most of the time. - Quilldemort continued to say as his voice died away, seeming that his focus was as much on debating with the first person who defeated his master, as on trying to obtain the stone located there in the mirror.
- "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it, should I steal the mirror from the master?" - Quirrell of the darkness, he thought as he touched the mirror seeking to obtain the stone he so coveted.
- You know... on that day you say you failed to obtain the stone... would you believe that it was me who was in the bank, and next to me was a person who removed the stone shortly before the invasion? - Harry said, attracting all the attention of the supposed Dark Quirrell.
And to Harry's shock, a different voice answered, it was an agonizing voice to hear, full of hate and evil like that of souls wailing in hell.
- Use the boy... now! - The voice dictated in order with the evil Quirrell soon dictating.
- Potter, come here! Or I swear I'll destroy your heart. - Quilldemort said, pulling Harry roughly. - Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.
Quilldemort approached Harry from behind. Harry breathed in the strange smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban, very similar to sulfur. He closed his eyes, stepped forward to prostrate himself in front of the mirror, and opened them again as a slight tremor took hold of his body at the recent horrifying voice he had heard.
Harry's mind was racing and he quickly focused his attention on the mirror. Harry could see an image of himself. It was strange. He had completely black eyes, his smile was predominant, and in his hand he was twirling a red stone. Around him on a large bed, he could see Rhitta Skeeter, Nymphadora Tonks, and Andromeda Tonks, completely sprawled out in pure pleasure.
His own image, which looked more demonic through the eyes, winked with a sly smile and returned the stone to the pocket of his overcoat, and as he did so, Harry felt something heavy fall into his real pocket. Somehow, unbelievably, he was in possession of the Stone.
But why was he with her? He didn't want her for his own use as shown in the mirror, he wanted her to stop Voldemort from capturing her and returning to his peak as the Dark Lord. And somehow the image in the mirror didn't refer to any of that, especially when several presences of other women appeared, however, completely hidden in the darkness, not allowing him to know who exactly they were.
And that's when things started to change in his favor.
The pocket in which the Philosopher's Stone was located was where Fyexbolt had been dozing, and she had been awakened by the intrusion of the object falling beneath her.
His faithful partner seemed to peck at the Stone curiously and soon several ideas appeared in Harry's mind. A greater confidence in the situation took hold of him knowing that he was in possession of the Stone, his wand of destiny vibrated in pure excitement in his arm, practically begging to be used.
And that was how Harry finally heard:
- So? - Quilldemort asked impatiently. - What are you seeing?
Harry, armed with courage and self-confidence that his enemy's plans were being broken little by little, soon turned around where he smiled face to face with Dark Quirrell. Feeling his breath close to his face, with both of them fixing their gazes on each other.
- Do you really want to know the truth? - Harry asked under the threatening gaze of the former Hogwarts stutterer. - Right... let's say there is a bed, and on that bed there are three beautiful women, they are extremely hot, and they are partially passed out from so much pleasure that my own reflected image gave them.
- I hold the Philosopher's Stone, my eyes are black and dark like a demon's. My smile is biased as if I had defeated my dear enemy and fallen Dark Lord last night.
- And that's it... I think I won, again. - Harry said smiling sarcastically under the gnashing of teeth of the soulless professor. - Your pathetic existence doesn't change anything, your time is up and you've lost, old man.
Feeling Quilldemort's killing intent there as he stared at him without moving a muscle, Harry soon began to hear music beginning to buzz in his ears.
Smiling at having prepared himself for this, Harry soon entered his mental space, he could immediately notice Quilldemort sitting in a chair at a computer table. He found everything there strange and seemed to be trying to understand what electronic machine that was.
The music that got louder and louder as the seconds passed was unbearable for the soulless shell of the professor, as it seemed to increase little by little, flooding his ears with an irritating sound that took his focus away, and then to complete his mistake, Quilldemort touched the computer mouse and clicked randomly with it, seeming to try to turn on the machine.
Just to cause an effect that Harry had been waiting for, a famous blue screen of death appeared on the computer's square monitor.
And only with the knowledge of such a problem solution, your memories could be formatted without any problem.
This was really his best idea of the year, creating a mental defense aimed at a weak and simple system compared to the No-mag, but extremely complex against sorcerers and witches who had no understanding of the advanced technologies of the society they so hostile to.
- It's no use, you lost. - Harry said sarcastically as he watched the man stand up, abruptly knocking over the chair in the process, the blue screen that had previously been on the computer, now grew all over the sky around them, and broke into thousands of pieces.
The music getting louder, the electronic beats resonating sonically like defensive effects of an invisible patron that shook the entire ground, the difficulty of his enemy to stay focused in an extremely hostile environment towards him made his focus lose with everything affecting him.
And when the last fragment of glass fell to the ground and darkness prevailed, it was soon possible to notice that it had a physical form.
Harry had created everything not with powerful magic or advanced magical understanding, but with a basic No-mag complexity, which was the perfect counter to the ignorance of magical society.
A method of creating a mental defense that hid your true mental defense.
A complex computer system for wizards, which when misused, would trigger Harry's Obscurial entity to attack with full power and hostility.
And so, soon Quilldemort fell to his knees on the ground with his ears bleeding. And an annoying sound of some kind of bell. He was sweating like crazy, and grinding his teeth furiously at being caught in this trap.
He should have known, Potter would never look lightly and directly into the eyes of an enemy, he really had been too stupid to believe that the first year there would be merely defenseless.
The dark entity around him seemed to wither his body at the mere touch, the soundtrack burst his eardrums preventing him from concentrating.
And so, everything was extinguished under the last presumptuous laugh of the boy who survived, who, unlike everything he had ever challenged, had with him the capacity for expansion of mental domain, something he himself created and that was being thrown at him.
[ ... ]
Back on the real plane, Harry promptly unsheathed his blade along with the fact that Fyexbolt climbed onto his shoulder, still having the Philosopher's Stone attached to its beak which served perfectly for the task required there.
Harry had muttered something to her as he drew his standard wand, and he had only just heard it when a loud, whining voice interrupted, though Quirrell's lips were not moving.
- He's lying... I didn't lose... I'm Lord Voldemort! There's no way I could lose twice to a weak, naive child, a traumatized Obscuriale entity like that.
- Potter, come back here! - Quilldemort shouted. However, he soon noticed something on Harry's shoulders. - What is this!? You shitty boy, how did you get the Stone? - Dark Quirrell continued fuming in anger, ready to go towards Harry with his wand drawn.
Harry knew he didn't have many offensive spells in his arsenal, only a few defensive ones that could help there, with only three things that could work.
One was the blade in his hands, another was his Obscurial form that he still had no control over, and finally, one that was being recited by a thick voice in his mind based on what he had read in some of the many books in the restricted section this school year.
The mantra was sinister, and Harry knew little about the language imposed there, however, he had read the ritual from beginning to end without looking for specific information, and that alone had been enough to engrave itself in his mind and be magically reproduced in search of any chance.
- Let me talk to him... face to face... - Again the mournful voice, like that of a soul condemned to hell, spread through the room in question.
- Master, you are not strong enough.
- I'm strong enough! For that, against a weak little brat like that who doesn't even control his dark...
Harry did not want to move a muscle. He wanted to see his parents' killer, he wanted to see who had condemned him to a miserable childhood, and he wanted to be able to look him in the eye as he realized that the Philosopher's Stone was now in the possession of the "weak little brat" he despised so much.
He saw Quirrell raise his arms and begin to unwind his turban. The turban fell away, his phoenix looking as if it were preparing to take off. Quirrell's head looked strangely misshapen. Then he turned away without moving.
Harry could have vomited, but he could not, for the paralyzing shock of such ugliness. Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been, there was a face, the most hideous face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk-white with intense red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake's.
- Harry Potter... - The face spoke. Only for his eyes to abruptly focus on his phoenix. - What have you done? How you divided your soul, you foolish little boy. - Voldemort shouted as if this was the greatest of sins for his greatest enemy to know something he shouldn't understand.
- ANSWER ME, POTTER! - Voldemort shouted, but Harry ignored him and even ended up smiling sarcastically under the gnashing of teeth of the alien in front of him. - HOW DID YOU GET THIS! - Voldemort was perplexed, his most hateful enemy was there, with his soul divided, showing no sign or expression that he had done something evil to obtain this as the crimson-eyed dark entity itself had done in the past.
- That was it! That was the look... you don't know how it makes me happy and makes my day to see that ridiculous and horrible expression of a being as pathetic as you, Voldemort. - Harry dictated quickly under the furious gaze of his enemy. - Go, Fyexbolt... destroy this wretch's hopes, hopes that he would ever return to his ascension. - Harry finally dictated, with his phoenix shooting like a flash of flames towards the door, taking with it the only Stone that could give him the return of his apogee.
Voldemort even tried to spread some magic through Dark Quirrell's wand, but because his back was turned, he got in the way, to Harry's pretentious laughter, who saw him lose his balance and fall face down on the floor.
- What is it?... do you want some help? - Harry asked sarcastically, and with a look that Voldemort literally felt like destroying.
- You will bitterly regret doing this, Potter. - Voldemort swore furiously.
- No, Voldy ... you're the one paying for murdering my parents. - Harry interrupted him. - And you're the one paying for your lackeys torturing Neville's parents into madness. You're paying for all the atrocities against the No-mags, and even against the wizards...
- Maybe this way you'll understand, nobody is perfect, even the most powerful dark sorcerer can take a beating for a baby, and have his plans destroyed again by a "weak little boy" of eleven years old, who can satisfy many more women than you could imagine in that ugly head like a reptilian.
Harry didn't stop for a moment, he knew he needed time, and his only greatest weapon was sarcasm to continue the humiliating debate against his enemy.
Watching the Dark Lord breathe in and out in search of some control, even though it was very sinister. Harry heard:
- I've always valued courage... and, boy, your parents were brave. I killed James first and he faced me with courage, even though he was so weak, with courage... but your mother, Lility... oh no, she didn't need to die... so much potential and brutality against her adversaries... now that was a real woman, you know, she was trying to protect him and to do so she destroyed my entire power base. - Voldemort explained, smiling at Harry's angry expression upon hearing his parents' killer mention their names. - Now, bring that soul fragment of yours back, give me the stone and I promise that her death will not have been in vain.
Grinning like a maniac at his enemy's shadowed gaze, he could finally notice Potter raise his head with a gleam in his eyes... only for him to also start laughing sadistically in an act that literally made Voldemort burn with hatred.
- GRAB HIM! - Voldemort's angry, whining voice had dictated the order as he turned around.
And in the next instant, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close around his wrist. And at the same time, a cold, searing pain seared his scar, and it felt as if his head would split in two. He screamed, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him.
The pain in his head eased, he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him double over in pain, examining his fingers, they were blistering before his eyes.
- Grab him! Grab him! - Voldemort screamed again and Dark Quirrell lunged, trying to knock Harry to the ground, only for him to feel a very strong stab in the stomach, with a dark and extremely sharp blade located there, impaling him brutally from one side to the other.
- Master, I cannot hold it. My hand... the sword! - It was the tearful voice of Dark Quirrell that emerged. He stared wide-eyed, perplexed, at the palms of his hands; they looked burned, red, raw.
It looked like Potter's skin was bathed in sulfuric acid which practically destroyed the Defense teacher's hand.
- Then kill him, you fool, and be done with it! - Voldemort screeched.
Dark Quirrell had drawn his wand, only to dictate furiously:
- Avada Kedavra! - A green flash erupted from his wand towards Potter.
A vision extremely identical to the one he had in his nightmares and memories of his mother, and he understood that this was no joke.
He thought about invoking some defensive spell with his wand, but his mind snapped into a scream audible only to him in pure denial, forcing him to appeal to something he still had no control over.
With his body rapidly dissolving into a mass of darkness, he soon dodged the spell as he began to fly uncontrollably across the room, destroying walls, pillars and even knocking over the Mirror of Erised.
He saw green and red flashes being thrown at him, his collisions with the walls potentially destroying them, the euphoria that being caught by those spells could really put an end to his trajectory, and so Harry made himself steady himself in the direction of Quilldemort, thus crashing into the same one who had brutally flown against a stone pillar while his chest was burst in a horrifying scene.
Voldemort's screams still continued: "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"
And other voices, perhaps inside his own head, calling out: "Harry! Live for me."
And only in a pure mental flash of pure adrenaline, Harry returned to human form as he pointed his wand forward:
- Incarcerous! - Harry summoned with ropes bursting from his wand quickly and entwining themselves brutally against the possessed professor.
- POTTER! - The whining voice of the weakened Dark Lord was possible to hear, however, Harry was far from paying attention to what he was insulting and getting exasperated.
As he tried to get in sync with the magical voice of his photographic memory, Harry promptly began the only ritual he knew:
"EXORCIZAMUS TE
Omnis Immundus Spiritus,
Omnis Satanica Potestas,
Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversaria,
Omnis Congregatio Et Secta Diabolia
Ergo, Draco Maledicte,
Ecclesiam Tuam Securi Tibi
Facias libertate Servire, Te Rogamos,
ADIOS, BITCH."
Having said this with a predatory laugh under Voldemort's wailing and excruciating screams in Quirrell's unconscious body, Harry could only notice a ghostly and dark shadow erupt from Quirrell's mouth, nose and ears, as he quickly charged at Harry, piercing him in the chest, and thus the boy who survived felt all his strength being taken away, with a shrill scream of pure rage from the ghostly entity in which he had fled in pure defeat against the ground, making the entire castle tremble absurdly in a pure state of alert.
Harry was plunged into darkness, ever deeper. His vision blurred, especially when it seemed like the flames were going out, with someone entering where the confrontation had taken place. And then everything disappeared.
Something golden was shining just above him.
- "The Snitch!" - Harry thought disjointedly, believing he was in a Quidditch match.
He tried to grab it, but his arms were too heavy. He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch. It was glasses. How strange.
He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore came into focus, bending over him.
- Good afternoon, my boy. - Dumbledore said, smiling like a grandfather. Where Potter had noticed he was in the Hogwarts medical wing, with a confused look about what was happening to him.
- What the hell is this!? - Harry said, with Albus laughing at the boy's reaction.
And with that we end another chapter of the Changed Prophecy.
I hope everyone is enjoying it, whether it's how Harry dribbled the evil Quirrell through his Mental Domain Expansion, divided into two stages.
The primary stage is Harry's Obscurial entity, which he didn't know was something that prevents everyone from reading his mind, as it is an extremely unstable and hostile entity, in which it tears the mind of anyone who appears. With the secondary stage in which it hides the entire Obscurial mass, a table with an old computer, which the invader when trying to access, if he doesn't know how to use it, will not have access to Harry's mind, which cataloged everything as in computer files. With only Harry being able to handle it, since wizards won't know what to do and the blue screen is present in the first click, which starts an extremely loud music in the mental universe, giving space for the dark mass to attack.
Or how Harry used Fyexbolt to escape with the Philosopher's Stone, and especially the importance of this phoenix for Harry, who still has a lot to discover about it.
Whether he also uses his Obscurial form, without any control, but which will allow him to save himself from an excellent wizard with heavy arsenals of magic.
And finally, of course, about how Harry exorcised Voldemort from Quirrell's body, yes, exorcised, as a demon, for the simple fact that I believe that Voldemort's immortality ritual is something that turns the person into a dark entity one step away from demonic.
Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed it, and I'm waiting for everyone in the comments section.
Right below there will also be the link to the electronic music that plays when someone invades Harry's mind.
This was something I did so that Harry can notice if someone invades, and being electronic, it aims to affect the invader slowly as if in its beats it played extremely loudly throughout Harry's entire mental world, almost destroying the invader's eardrums. Not affecting physically, but mentally, where there is no wound, but his mind formulates the pain that was to be received. Restricting him and so the dark mass can attack with full power.
Handclap Remix:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpkDLCo8O8k&list=RDGMEMYH9CUrFO7CfLJpaD7UR85wVMNpkDLCo8O8k&start_radio=1
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