Oh God Not Again!

Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Note: This chapter isn't really funny, but then again, they are facing Voldemort for the first time and it isn't just Harry. I think it turned out okay anyway, though.

"Wait…what?" Neville blurted upon crossing the fire. "It really was Quirrell? Damn, now I owe the Weasley Twins money."

"You were betting on who was out to kill me?" Harry asked. "Isn't that a bit…morbid?"

"Oh, like you're one to talk. You bring up your 'facial disfigurement' as you call it every chance you get," Neville pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, well everyone seems to love talking about it, so I figure I was doing them a favor. And at least the Weasley Twins had faith in me!"

Before Neville could answer, Quirrell spoke. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. I must say, I didn't expect to see Longbottom, though."

Harry looked confused. "Why were you wondering whether you'd see me? I'm bloody eleven; I really should have more sense than to go after a fully-trained wizard who wants to kill me armed only with some of my first-year classmates." Although if he were really eleven, it probably wouldn't have occurred to him to force an adult to listen after getting the brush-off from McGonagall. God knows it hadn't last time. He really should have been more specific about WHY he thought the Stone was in danger.

"Gee, I don't know," Quirrell said sarcastically. "Could it be the fact that every time I face away from you, you insist that your scar is on fire?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer and then abruptly closed it again. "Fair point," he conceded.

"I must say, I didn't honestly expect you to figure it out considering Severus seems so much the type. I mean, who in their right mind would suspect me, p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell when that overgrown bat was swooping around."

"I would."

"Um, Harry? I believe the question was 'who in their right mind'," Neville reminded him.

"Oh, right. But maybe I wouldn't have figured it out if you didn't have bloody Tom Riddle on the back of your head."

This was news to all present. Neville had no idea what Harry was talking about in the slightest, Quirrell had no idea who Tom Riddle was, and Tom Riddle had no idea how Harry knew that that was his real name and not Voldemort.

Quirrell evidently decided not to ask and snapped his fingers, tying both Neville and Harry up. Harry cursed himself for forgetting about that and focused on trying to remove the ropes without his wand. He could do it if he had enough time, but he'd need to concentrate.

In the meantime, Quirrell took the opportunity to mutter to himself about how to find the stone.

Suddenly, Voldemort said, "Use the boy…use the boy…"

Neville started. "Would that be Tom Riddle?" he whispered.

Harry merely nodded.

Quirrell rounded on Harry. "Yes – Potter – come here." He undid the ropes surrounding Harry and bade him to look in the mirror.

Unlike the last time when Harry had thought the Stone would be safer in his pocket than in the enchanted mirror that Quirrell couldn't figure out and was frustrated and desperate enough to rely on a child to get it, Harry didn't actually want the stone.

"Well?" Quirrell asked impatiently. "What do you see?"

"I see my family," Harry paused. "Again. Seriously, people, this isn't going to change so stop asking."