The Heart Is Not Black or White

Chapter 28

~Draco's POV~

I took a moment to catch my breath and look at my surroundings. The bloody nutjob of a professor just led us through a trap door, a large room full of flying keys, and a giant chess game. We were in a large chamber now. Quirrell was facing Marissa with the most malicious look I had ever seen.

"What do you need?" I said angrily, stepping in front of Marissa. She looked so scared, and I didn't like seeing her that way. I was also exhausted and scared. We both just wanted to get out.

"The girl knows," he said, narrowing his eyes at me. I was becoming more suspicious with every passing second. Quirrell was not who he said he was.

"Just tell Marissa what you need and then get us out of here you git," I sneered. Sure, I loved to throw insults around, but it was very brave of me to give one to a man that could probably turn me into ashes right this second.

Quirrell let out a great bellow. "You really have everyone fooled, don't you?" he said to Marissa.

I exchanged looks with her. Did she have any idea what the teacher was talking about? I sure didn't.

"Don't act so confused!" he suddenly shouted. "I know who you really are. You are Assyria, and you have the Sorceror's Stone."

Who was Assyria, and what was the Sorceror's Stone?

"Professor, you must be mistaken-" Marissa started.

"Come here!" he shouted. Marissa stood rooted to her spot, unable to move out of fear. "COME HERE!"

She walked over to him and he grabbed her shoulder. He whispered something fiercely in her ear. I hated the way he was pushing her around.

"I don't have it," Marissa said through clenched teeth. "And I am not Assyria."

"Hey!" I called out, hoping to divert his attention. "I know who Assyria is!" It was the worst lie I had ever told.

Quirrell laughed that sinister laugh again. "Foolish boy! Assyria is standing right in front of you. Lord Voldemort tells me so."

The mention of his name made my stomach drop. Of course my parents were Death Eaters, but I was not used to the name yet. Would I ever be?

"Then Voldemort is wrong," Marissa spoke up. "Because I am definitely not Assyria."

"Lord Voldemort is never wrong!" Quirrell shouted, making us jump.

"I thought V-Voldemort was d-dead," I stuttered, positively frightened.

"Oh, no," Quirrell laughed. He grows stronger yet. Soon the world will witness his power once again."

"They will witness his evil once again," Marissa scoffed. "He did nothing but try to rid the world of good. I know what he is. He's nothing but a-"

Quirrell was amused with Marissa's defiance. He laughed again as if what she said was the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"Idiot girl," he said. "You see, it is not a matter of whether you are good or evil. The heart is not simply black or white. The world has only power-"

"Then Voldemort was a power-thirsty-"

Marissa stopped. Something caught her eye just behind Quirrell. She was looking at a mirror. Whatever she saw in the mirror mesmerized her.

Quirrell saw her staring at the mirror. He asked her, "What do you see?"

"I'm running," Marissa answered. "Just running."

Quirrell made his way over to me next. I was petrified of what he would do to me. He gripped me by the shoulders and dragged me over to the mirror, saying, "Now what do you see, boy?"

I squinted at the glass, inspecting it closely. Just like Marissa said, I was running, my Hogwarts robes blowing in the wind behind me and a large smile on my face. I looked so free. Behind me, I could have sworn I saw the image of home. But just as quickly as I saw it, Malfoy Manor faded away.

I turned to Quirrell and said, "I'm also running."

With this information, Quirrell looked dumbfounded. He muttered, "What to do... What to do..."

"Get the stone!" a high pitched voice from Quirrell's turban screeched. The voice sent shivers down my spine.

"What was that?" I asked. The voice seemed oddly familiar. Like a distant memory that I didn't want to remember.

"My master lives inside me," Quirrell explained. "He needs a home, until he finds another body to inhabit. But in order to witness his greatness, I need the stone." Quirrell held his left hand out to Marissa.

"I don't have it," she repeated.

"Don't lie!" he shouted. "How is it possible that a girl born in 1927 looks eleven years old in 1992?"

"I was born in 1980," Marissa replied dryly. I could tell that she was growing impatient. Why did he think that she was some girl named Assyria?

"You have fooled many people," said Quirrell, becoming more frustrated. "But Lord Voldemort sees right through you. You are Assyria L'amare, born on March 22, 1927. Somehow you got hold of the Sorceror's Stone. He knew it the second you walked in my classroom. He could sense your presence. There is no fooling our Lord, so hand over the stone and join him once more."

Join him once more?

Marissa was deathly afraid. I could see right through her. She was also trying desperately to be brave. "Look, buddy." She glared at Quirrell with her intense eyes. "I don't know who Assyria is or what the Sorceror's Stone is. I have no intention of joining Voldemort. Now let us out of here right now, and we won't tell Dumbldore."

I could see that Quirrell was livid at this point. His face was bright red, and he looked at Marissa as if he wanted to murder her. Despite the looming fear of death, she grabbed my hand and marched me toward the door, still not knowing how we would get out. We didn't get very far before we heard the sound of the ceiling starting to crack above our heads. I looked back at Quirrell to see him holding his hand out, which was slowly forming into a first. Then quick as lightening he released his fingers, causing the crumbled pieces of the ceiling to fall towards the ground, right onto our heads.

I fell to the floor and covered my head. I felt like a coward, but I couldn't think of a spell that could save my life. So I waited for the impact. Moments passed, too many moments. I looked up to see that Marissa held her hand up, causing the concrete blocks to stop in midair. Marissa and Quirrell both had the Manus Force. How?

Marissa directed the large pieces of the ceiling towards Quirrell, but he stopped them in midair. I watched in half-excitement and half-terror as the two continued to struggle, the pieces of ceiling suspended between the two as if they were confused about where to go.

That's when Professor Dumbledore appeared right at Quirrell's side. Marissa and the teacher were both doubly surprised, as was I. Their gaurd was down and the broken pieces of the ceiling fell to the floor with a crash. Quirrell seemed terrified of Professor Dumbledore and cowered away.

"Greetings, Professor," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I'm afraid these two must leave now. None of them have the stone and Assyria is not here. Harry Potter is making his way down, I'll bet he has it. Anyway, I'll let the workings of fate continue. Come, Draco and Marissa. We'll apparate to my office."

Not hesitating, Marissa made her way over to Dumbledore and grabbed his hand. Trembling, I got myself off the ground and walked to the old man. When I took his bony hand, the chamber disappeared.