The Other Potter

XXIV. DOUBLE FACED

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Mia walked down a long staircase, leading further underground. She looked around, her hands getting sweaty as it felt like her heart was about to pound out of her chest. She took deep breaths as she sighed. 

As Mia got halfway down the stairs, her eyes began flickering red. As she got closer to the ground, she saw the Mirror of Erised, and there was already someone there, but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirrell. 

"You!" gasped Mia. Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all. "The fuck? Snape was the one who. . . ."

"Yes," Quirrell said. Quirrell laughed and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "He does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-p-poor st-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

"But that day, during the Quidditch match," Mia said, "Snape tried to kill me."

"No, dear girl," Quirrell said, an evil smile growing on his face. "I tried to kill you. And trust me, 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."

"Snape was trying to save me?" Mia asked shocked. 

"I knew you were a danger to me right from the off," Quirrell said coolly, "especially after Halloween."

"You bastard," Mia said, "you could have killed Hermione with that troll!"

"Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled," Quirrell went on, "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 to the mirror and Mia's eyes glowed red. 

"He rarely left me alone," Quirrell went on, "but he doesn't understand. I'm never alone, never."

"Wow, saddo," she muttered to herself.

"Now, what does this mirror do?" Quirrell asked, looking at the mirror. "I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone. But how do I get it?" 

Mia's mind was racing as she felt overwhelmed. 

'What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment,' she thought, 'is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the Mirror, I should see myself finding it. Which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realising what I'm up to?'

And to Mia's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the girl. . . . Use the girl. . . ."

Mia looked around, horrified as Quirrell rounded on her. 

"Come here, Potter. Now!"

Mia slowly walked towards him, her hands shaking. Quirrell moved close behind her. Mia breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. Mia stepped in front of the Mirror and opened them again. She saw her reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at her. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket, and as it did so, Mia felt something heavy drop into her real pocket. Somehow, incredibly, she'd got the Stone.

"What is it?" Quirrell demanded, "what do you see?"

"I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore," Mia lied smoothly, "I've won the House Cup."

"She lies," came the voice from Quirrell. 

"Tell the truth!" Quirrell yelled at her as she jumped slightly. "What do you see?!"

"Let me speak to her," came the high voice again. 

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell said, looking slightly nervous as Mia felt her heart racing. 

"I have strength enough for this," the voice said again.

Mia felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting her to the spot. She couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, she watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? 

The turban fell away. 

Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot. Mia would have screamed, but she couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Mia had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Euphemia Potter. . . ." it whispered. Mia tried to take a step backwards but her legs wouldn't move. "We meet again." Then it hit Mia. 

The face on the back of Quirrell's face, was Voldemort. 

Voldemort himself saw the look of realisation on Mia's face and nodded, moving Quirrell's head.

"Yes," he said, "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." 

"Shit," Mia said.

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Mia's legs. She stumbled backwards, then went to sprint up the stairs.

"STOP HER!"

Quirrell clicked his fingers and fire appeared around her, trapping Mia with Voldemort and Quirrell.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me. . . . or you'll meet the same end as your parents. They died begging me for mercy. . . ."

"LIAR!" Mia shouted suddenly. Her eyes went red while small energy balls flickered at her fingertips. Quirrell was walking backwards at her, so that Voldemort could still see her. The evil face was now smiling. 

"How touching. . . ." it hissed. "I always value bravery. Yes, girl, your parents were brave. . . . I killed your father first and he put up a courageous fight. . . . but your mother needn't have died, she was trying to protect you. Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" Mia sprang towards the flame door, but Voldemort screamed, "SEIZE HER!" and, next second, Mia felt Quirrell's hand close on her wrist. 

At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across her body. She felt as if her entire body was about to split in two as her eyes glowed red and small energy sparked at her fingertips. She screamed, struggling with all her might, and to her surprise, Quirrell let go of her. 

The pain in her wrist lessened. She looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers. They were blistering before her eyes. 

"Seize her! SEIZE HER!" shrieked Voldemort again and Quirrell lunged, knocking Mia clean off her feet, landing on top of her, both hands around her neck. Mia's body was aching with pain, yet she could see Quirrell howling in agony. 

"Master, I cannot hold her. . . . my hands, my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Mia to the ground with his knees, let go of her neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms. Mia could see they looked burnt, raw, red and shiny. 

"Then kill her, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort. Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Mia by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face.

"AAAARGH!" 

Quirrell rolled off her, his face blistering too, and then Mia knew. Quirrell couldn't touch her bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain. Her only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him doing a curse. Mia jumped to her feet, caught Quirrell by the arm and hung on as tight as she could. 

Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Mia off. The pain in Mia's head was building. She couldn't see, she could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of "KILL HER! KILL HER!" and other voices, maybe in Mia's own head, crying, "Mia! Mia!"

She felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from her grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down. . . . down. . . . down. . . .