Star-Crossed

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Man with Two Faces

We left Ron and Hermione by themselves in the chess room, and moved onward. Harry was helping me as I limped slightly down the stairs that led down into the chamber rimmed with columns.

We got halfway down them, when suddenly, both of us jerked to a stop, feeling our scars seize with pain. The burn grew stronger the further down we went the stairs, approaching a robed figure staring into the mirror of Erised.

As we came closer, I narrowed my eyes, finding a familiar face in the reflection.

"You?" My heart dropped, "No, no way. I-it can't be, Snape, he was the one..."

Professor Quirrell smirked, "Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-p-poor, st-stuttering Professor Quirrell?" His face went back to the innocence it had somewhat held from when he was walking the school, fooling everyone.

Harry shook his head as we kept our distance, "But-but that day, the first Quidditch match, Snape was trying to kill me."

An evil smile spread across Quirrell's face, "No, dear boy. I was trying to kill both of you." both of our eyes went impossibly wide, "And trust me, if young Natalie hadn't been thrown from her broom, and Snape's cloak hadn't caught on fire and broken my eye contact, I would have succeeded. Even with Snape muttering his little countercurse."

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry gaped.

Quirrell rolled his eyes with a sniff, "I knew you both were a danger to me right from the off. Especially after your little stunt on Halloween."

"So you're the one that let the troll in." I connected the dots.

"Oh, very good, Potter." Quirrell crooned, turning to glower at us "Yes...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."

The second the professor turned and faced the mirror, Harry and I winced again, gripping our scars as they throbbed harshly.

"He rarely left me alone..." He snarled, his lip curling, "But he doesn't understand." His face fell, a sort of blank, far off look on his face, "I'm never alone. Never..." It was silent for a moment until the professor's face hardened into a glare, "Now, what does this mirror do? I see what I desire...I see myself holding the stone. But, how do I get it?"

Out of nowhere, a chilling, inhuman voice echoed through the chamber, "Use them...use the children."

A sense of dread settled over me, my throat closing tightly, making it difficult to breath as Harry and I both looked around frantically, wondering where the voice emanated from.

Quirrell spun on us, shouting aggressively, "Come here! Come here, Potters! Now!" Harry started to try and lead the two of us further down the rest of the stairs. But, feeling stifled and a bit angry with the professor and ourselves at us for dragging our friends down here into this situation, I shouldered away from my brother, limping toward the mirror on my own.

The two of us stopped in front of the mirror, Quirrell standing a foot or so away from us, still giving us a wide berth.

"Tell me," Quirrell hissed, "What do you see?"

Harry and I both stared straight ahead, face first into the mirror for a few seconds. All we saw was ourselves next to each other, Quirrell looming behind us. Then we noticed ourselves reaching simultaneously into our pockets within the reflection. Each of us inside the reflection pulled a half of a gleaming red ruby from our pockets and held them between each other. A glittering magical force flooded between the reflections and the pieces of the stone joined together between us.