enchanted • draco malfoy

Year 1: Voldemort

Felicity's POV

"No! It can't be," Harry stated in confusion, "Snape. He was the one-" "Yes," Quirrell interrupted him, "He does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Q-Q-Quirrell?"

"But... that day, at the Quidditch match, Snape tried to make Harry fall off his broom!" I insisted. "No, foolish girl, that was me! And if Snape's cloak hadn't caught fire and broken my eye contact, I would've succeeded!" Quirrell retorted angrily, "Even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse!"

I exchanged a surprised glance with Harry. "Snape... was trying to save me..." he realized. "And I knew he was a danger to me, especially after Halloween," Quirrell said. "You let the troll in!" I accused him. "Very good, Longbottom," he said mockingly. "Unfortunately, Snape wasn't fooled. While everyone else was running to the dungeons he went to the third floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again. Rarely left me alone." He paused, before continuing, saying, "He doesn't understand, though. I'm never alone."

A painful groan escaped Harry's lips. "Harry, what's wrong?" I asked, keeping my eyes on Quirrell but reaching a hand out to Harry. "Scar," he muttered.

Quirrell turned to us. "Now," he began, "What does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the Stone. But how do I get it?" He grew more agitated by the second.

"Use the boy..."

A voice echoed in the chamber. Harry and I looked around wildly, searching for the source of the low, raspy voice. "Come here, Potter!" Quirrell screamed, "Now!"

Harry began walking down the steps until he was directly in front of the mirror. "Now tell me," Quirrell said impatiently, "What do you see?" I walked down the steps quietly until I was only a few feet behind them. Reaching into my pocket for my wand, I'm startled when I come up empty. I look back up to the top of the steps, where my wand somehow appeared there. I sighed.

I always seem to lose my wand in the worst case-scenarios.

I missed Harry's answer while I was off in la-la land, but the same deep, scratchy voiced reverberates throughout the room.

"He lies..."

"Tell the truth!" Quirrell roared, "What do you see?"

"Get the girl..."

"Longbottom!" Quirrell shrieked angrily. I tried to run the rest of the way to my wand, and almost reached it when a wall of fire came up, burning my hand. I yelped in pain and waved my arm around frantically, trying to relieve myself of the awful burning sensation.

Quirrell scoffed. "You foolish girl," he muttered. I stood at the top of the steps, cradling my burned hand, when he yelled, "Come here!" I glared at him and reluctantly walked forward so I was next to him and Harry. He glared right back and opened his mouth to say something to me when that voice sounded again.

"Let me speak to them..."

Quirrell looked troubled. "Master, you are not strong enough," he warned, speaking to the voice we couldn't see.

"I have strength enough for this..."

Quirrell hesitated, before beginning to unwrap his turban, something I'd never really thought about before. He faced us, so the back of his head was to the mirror when he lifted the fabric off. I stifled a scream at the horrific sight in front of me. There, on the back of Professor Quirrell's head, was an alien-like face, with a flat nose, pale skin, small, beady eyes, and sharp teeth.

"Harry Potter... We meet again..."

"Voldemort," Harry breathed.

"Yes... You see what I've become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another, like 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!"

Harry's eyes widened and he backed away to the top of the stairs.

"Don't be a fool... Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me... and live?"

"Never!" Harry shouted. Voldemort chuckled evilly.

"Bravery... your parents had it, too... Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together, we can bring them back... All I ask is for something in return..."

Harry pulled none other than the Sorcerers Stone out of his pocket slowly, as if in a trance.

"That's it... There is no good, or evil.There is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Together, we'll do extraordinary things... Just give me the Stone!"

"You liar!" Harry shouted angrily, snapping out of his trance.

"Kill them!"

Throughout the whole conversation, I was selfishly using what seemed would be my last moments to, not help my best friend, but benefit myself. I was staring in the mirror, looking at my parents one last time before I'd likely die.

But Voldemort's hissing command brought me out of my stupor. Quirrell ran towards Harry, ready to grab him, when I stuck out a foot, something I'd done countless times to my friends in class, and tripped him.

Quirrell grunted in surprise as he stumbled, somehow managing to slam the back of his head down against the ground. Without a second thought, Quirrell sprung up and flung me across the room, sending me crashing into a pillar with his inhuman strength.

"Felicity!" Harry shouted. "I'm fine," I groaned, disoriented. I held a hand to my head, where I could feel warm, sticky blood flowing from a gash. I stood up and Quirrell glowered at me, his gaze switching between Harry and myself.

Suddenly, he flew, and I literally mean flew, to Harry and pinned him down, his hand against Harry's throat, effectively choking him. The Stone fell out of Harry's grasp and he reached for it frantically, but to no avail. I hobbled as quickly as I possibly could, but before I reached them, Harry put his hand on the hand of Quirrell's that was choking him. And Quirrell's hand started to burn. I gaped as our ex-professor's hand began to steam and sizzle, before crumbling off completely. He staggered off the stairs before screaming in complete and utter pain.

"What is this magic?" he wailed.

"Fool! Get the Stone!"

All of our gazes focused on the red, shining stone in the middle of the stairs. As Quirrell reached for it, Harry stood up and pressed his hands to the Professor's face. It immediately began to burn, Voldemort's side, too, and I watched in a sick fascination as they slowly crumbled to dust and nothing.

Harry looked down at his hands in amazement before picking up the Stone and turning to me urgently. "Are you hurt badly?" he asked, examining me.

I looked down at myself. The rough exterior of the Devil's Snare had created little red rashes and bumps up and down my arms and legs and chest, plus my ankle throbbed from when I fell out of the plant; there were dozens of tiny nicks and scratches from the chunks of flying rocks and shrapnel from the exploding chess pieces; my hand was red and burned from the fire, and my head was pulsing in time with my heartbeat, which probably wasn't the best sign.

"I'm fine," I said, smiling. "What about you? Are you okay?" He nodded. "Yeah, I'm good," he said. "How'd you do that thing with your hands?" I asked, beyond curious. He simply shrugged. "I have no idea."

It was quiet for a few moments before Harry screamed, "Felicity, behind you!" I turned quickly enough to see some sort of apparition, a misty ghost or something, pass through my body. I screamed in agony and terror before I blacked out completely.

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they're so chill about it lmao like oh yeah we vanquished voldemort how are you though ??

love my children 

~xo