𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 1, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 15: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓣𝔀𝓸 𝓕𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼

well, last chapter of year one, let's go.

~ chapter fifteen: the man with two faces ~

'Any second now,' Y/N thought to herself as she and Harry  walked down the stairs, wincing halfway down when their scars burned, 'we'll see Snape and try and stop him from getting the Stone.'

But when they saw who it was, they froze in their tracks. It wasn't Snape. Or Voldemort.

It was Quirrell.

"You?" Y/N asked as Quirrell turned to face them. "No, it can't be. Snape - wasn't he the one who-?"

"Yes," Quirrell said. "He does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

Y/N gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to punch him in the nose and settled with rolling her sea green eyes, which has now darkened with hatred. Harry, however, was still confused.

"But - but that day," he stammered, "during the Quidditch match, Snape tried to kill us."

"No dear boy," Quirrell replied, smiling evilly. "I tried to kill you." Harry eyed him with disbelief and confusion. "And trust me," Quirrell continued, "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."

"So," Y/N asked through gritted teeth, "it was you who almost killed me by making me fall from my broom?"

"Yes, that would be my work."

Harry clenched his fist, feeling the anger rise in him.

Quirrell had tried to kill Y/N.

The girl Harry was so o̶b̶s̶e̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ hopelessly in love with had almost died because of Quirrell.

Suddenly, Y/N's eyebrows twisted in confusion, as if she suspected that something didn't add up. Harry looked over to her and thought to himself with amusement that even though he was infuriated, he still found himself pining after Y/N as he so usually did.

"Snape was trying to save us?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"I knew you were both dangers to me right from the off," Quirrell replied. "Especially after Halloween."

"Then - then you let the troll in," said Harry, finally starting to piece it all together.

"Very good, Potter, yes," Quirrell admitted. "Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. 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 Harry winced, feeling his scar burn again. "He rarely left me alone. But he doesn't understand. I'm never alone, never."

"But I don't understand," Y/N insisted, "But Snape always seemed to hate us."

"Oh, he does," Quirrell said casually, "heavens yes. He was at school with both of your fathers, didn't you know? He loathed them both - he still loathes your father, Black - but he never wanted you both dead. Now," he said, as he stared into the mirror, "what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the Stone. But how do I get it?"