Daughter of Black

1.13

Harry and I walked through the door, which led down a long staircase. Pillars surrounded the room and the Mirror of Erised was at the center of the room. There was a man standing in front of the mirror, but it wasn't Snape. It was Quirrell. Harry yelps and grabs his scar. I look between the two of them.

"You?" I ask as Quirrell turns around, facing us.

"No. It can't be... Snape. He was the one-" Harry started, staring back at Quirrell.

"Yes. He does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to me, who would suspect, 'p-p-poor s-stuttering Professor Quirrell?'". I looked back at Harry. He was right. No one suspected him.

"B-but, that day, during the Quidditch Match, Snape tried to kill me." Harry said, trying to find the real answers.

"No, dear boy. I tried to kill you! And trust me, 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." My eyes went wide as I stared back at him. That didn't make any sense.

"Snape was trying to... save him?" I ask. "Why?"

"I knew you were a danger right from the off. Especially after Halloween." My eyes went wide as I looked back at Harry.

"You let the troll in.." I mumbled, looking at Quirrell.

"Very good Black, yes. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. While everyone else was running to the dungeon, he went to the 3rd floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again. He rarely left me alone." Quirrell turns back to the mirror and Harry clutches his scar again. "But he doesn't understand. I'm never alone. Never. Now... What does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone. But how do I get it?" I hear a raspy voice and I look back at Harry. But he looks just as confused as I do.

"Come here, Potter, now!" I look at Harry as he complies. Harry walks forward shakily. "Tell me. What do you see?" Harry looks in the mirror. He studies it for a second before looking back at me. I see him reach into his pocket but Quirrell doesn't. It's in his pocket. How did... what?! "What is it?! What do you see?" Quirrell questions harshly.

"I-I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the house cup." I smiled, looking down. That's what Ron saw.

"He lies." The raspy voice says. I look around but I still don't see anyone.

"Tell the truth! What do you see?" Quirrell yells at Harry but he says nothing.

"Let me speak to him." Quirrell suddenly tenses up and moves away from Harry.

"Master, you are not strong enough." Quirrell argues.

"I have enough strength for this." Quirrell unwraps his turban and on the side opposite his face, another face is planted. It is you-know-who and he appeared kind of like a snake. He stretches out and faces Harry via the mirror. "Harry Potter. We meet again."

"Voldemort." Harry mutters, staring at the back of Quirrell's head.

"Yes. You see what I have become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another. 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!" My eyes are wide as Harry runs towards me. I push him past me. I wouldn't let Quirrell get to him. "Stop him!" Quirrell snaps his fingers and fire erupts all around the room. I looked back at Harry but he hadn't made it out of the room. I sigh, turning back to Quirrell. "Don't be a fool! Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?" You-know-who asks. Frankly I wasn't as bold as Harry to say his name.

"Harry will never join you! Never!" I shout at him as he turns to look at me.

"Mirabella Black. Brave girl. Your mother had it too. I killed her." I feel my blood boil as I glare at him. Harry stood right behind me. "Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together, we can bring them back. All I ask for is something in return." Harry takes the stone from his pocket. I turn and look at Harry, shaking my head. "That's it, Harry. There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together, we'll do extraordinary things. Just give me the stone!" I grab Harry's hand.

"No Harry." Harry looks back at me and I shake my head. He looks back at him and shakes his head.

"You liar!" Harry yells, backing up with me.

"Kill him!" Quirrell soars into the air and smashes into me and Harry. He had one hand on Harry's throat, another on mine. We fall to the steps and I groan and I thrash against Quirrell. The stone falls out of Harry's reach as Quirrell chokes him. Harry strains and squeaks. I grab at Quirrell, pushing him off me. Suddenly, Harry puts his hand on Quirrell's, trying to get him off, making smoke fuel from under his hand. Quirrell screams out and backs up. His hand is crumbling into a mountain of black ash.

"What is this magic?" His hand dissipates.

"Fool! Get the stone!" He shouts out. Harry and I look at the stone but before we can grab at it Quirrell walks forward. Harry puts both hands on Quirrell's face. Quirrell backs up, then his face, which is horrendously burned, crumbles as he walks forward. His whole body is ash. He falls to the floor. Harry gasps. He looks at his own hands and hurries over to the stone. He picks it up and sighs, when we hear something. Turning, I see dust clouds with you-know-who's face. The cloud rushes forward, towards Harry and I rush forward, standing directly in front of Harry as it goes right through me. I look back at Harry, who lays on the ground, unconscious. He holds the stone in an outstretched hand.

"Harry?" I bend down, looking over Harry. His face looks so calm when he's unconscious. And I feel better knowing he is alive.

But here's the thing. You-know-who said he killed my mother. I guess I always knew that but I never put the puzzle pieces together. Just like how I never knew until just now that Harry was the baby from my memories. That's why he looked so familiar. It wasn't from newspapers. I was there. I know him. I've known him for a while. I just don't know why I was there. What is my connection to Harry Potter?