Rowan Haywood

Book 1: Chapter 19 - Voldemort

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into my legs. I stumbled backward.
　　
"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as the Potters.... They died begging me for mercy..."
　　
"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.
　　
Quirrell was walking backward at me and Harry, so that Voldemort could still see us. The evil face was now smiling.
　　
"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave.... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you.... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."
　　
"NEVER!"

I sprang towards Harrt, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HER!" and the next second, I felt Quirrell's hand close on my wrist. I looked over at Harry and saw that Quirrell was also grabbing him. At once, Harry yelled, struggling with all his might, and to our surprise, Quirrell let go of us. We looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers -- they were blistering before his eyes.
　　
"Seize them! SEIZE THEM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, I dodged but he knocked Harry clean off his feet' landed on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck, he could see Quirrell howling in agony.
　　
"Master, I cannot hold him -- my hands -- my hands!"
　　
And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms -- I could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny, just as I had expected. He couldn't touch Harry.
　　
"Then kill them, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.
　　
Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, grabbed Quirrell's face --
　　
"AAAARGH!"
　　
Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain -- our only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.
　　
Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off. I could hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

I saw Harry fall off Quirrell's arm. As the stone was wrenched from my grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down ... down... down...
　　
Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! I immediately grabbed it.

I blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all.
　　
I blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above me.
　　
"Good afternoon, Rowan," said Dumbledore. I stared at him, surprised before remembering what was happening. "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick --"
"Calm yourself, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."
"Then who does? Sir, I --"
"Rowan, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.
　　
I looked around him. I realized that I must be in the hospital wing. I was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to me was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop."
　　
"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."
　　
"How long have I been in here?"
"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley, Miss Granger, and Mr.Potter will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."
"But sir, the Stone-"
　　
I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say.
　　
"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"
"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."
"It was you."
"I feared I might be too late."
"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer --"
"Not the Stone, girl, you -- the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."
"Destroyed?" I blanked. "But your friend -- Nicolas Flamel --"
"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."
"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"
"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."
　　
Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on my face.
　　
"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all -- the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." I lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" I begin, "I've been thinking... sir -- even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know- Who --"
"Call him Voldemort, Rowan. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
I nodded. "Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Rowan, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Rowan, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time -- and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
　　
I nodded again, but stopped quickly, because it made my head hurt. Then he said,
　　
"Sir, there's something..."
"Just the one?"
"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"
"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone -- find it, but not use it -- would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes.... Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them -- but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"
　　
He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

I laughed.
　　
Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.
　　
"Just five minutes," I pleaded.
　"Absolutely not."
"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."
"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."
"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."
"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."
　　
And she let Ron and Hermione and Harry in.
　　
"Rowan!"
　　Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around me again, but I was glad she held herself in as my head was still very sore from getting a stupid concussion from falling down and hitting my head before passing out.
　　
"Oh, Rowan, we were sure you were going to -- Dumbledore was so worried --"
"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. I told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when I told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.
　　
"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"
"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that -- what was it? -- 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."
"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.
"So what happened to you three?"
"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "I brought Ron round -- that took a while -- and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met him in the entrance hall -- he already knew -- he just said, 'They've gone after him, hasn't he?' and hurtled off to the third floor. Afterwards, he brought Harry and you -- both were unconcious -- and Harry woke up just yesterday."
"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending Harry his father's cloak and everything?"
"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did -- I mean to say that's terrible -- you could have been killed."
"No, it isn't," I said thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me and Harry a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let Harry find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought we had the right to face Voldemort if I could...."
"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course -- you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you -- but the food'll be good."
　　
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.
　　
"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT" she said firmly.