I May have helped an Evil Wizard. (rewrite)

Face-off

"You!" Harriet exclaimed. "What are you doing here? I mean I was expecting someone. Just... not you."

Then things started to piece together in her brain.

"Oh." She said, feeling a little stupid. She really needed to pay attention more. He had been sent to get the stone for someone else. Someone who didn't trust or like Dumbledore, yet was or had been powerful enough to haul someone into a mess like this. There were only a few options there.

"Who is he? The person you are working for?" she demanded to know.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"My master," he said calmly. "Is none of your concern. He needs the stone and I am going to get it to him."

"Well at the moment I suppose nearly anyone is better than Dumbledore." Harriet muttered, hopefully under her breath.

Quirrell chuckled, "Yes. That much is true."

Not as quiet as she had hoped then.

"So?" She raised an eyebrow. "Grindelwald or Voldemort?"

"The dark lord, of course!" Quirrel replied and then made that face everyone makes when they've been caught red-handed.

"Yay! I was right!" She grinned.

"How did you-" Quirrell started to question.

"Find out?" Harriet smirked. "Elementary Quirrell. For one you wear a turban all the time and you neither belong to a religion nor come from a place where they wear them. Also the African prince story you told us was a bluff. Everyone knows that."

Quirrel had the decency to look a bit embarrassed.

She continued, "Secondly, I know Voldemort is not dead. Anyone who believes that has obviously never read a book on the dark arts. What a pity. They're all in the library too."

She gave a wistful sigh. The poor books. They must have felt so lonely.

"My conclusion is that He probably used a dark magic spell to fuse himself to the back of your head so he could survive. I've read about them.  Third, I'm not an idiot. So, now that's cleared up-" she clapped her hands "- I'm going to help you get the stone because I am not leaving it in Dumbledore's hands because it is, or should be, a universally known fact that that's bad news and my friends and I worked very hard to get it out of this place. Why am I still talking? We're wasting time. What is Dumbledore's test anyway?"

"This mirror. I see it. I see myself holding the stone. But how do I get it?!" Quirrel hissed, obviously angry. How long had he been here?

"Let the girl try." A third voice joined the conversation.  It had a cold edge to it and sounded snake like. It sent a chill down her spine.

Harriet walked towards the mirror and stared at it. She saw herself. Mirror her winked and pulled the stone out of her pocket. She felt a weight in said pocket. Mirror her grinned and disappeared.

"Well Potter, what do you see? Where is the stone?"Quirrell asked. He looked like a kid on Christmas day,  just the creepy,  slightly deranged version. Did he need a therapist?

"Well let's say it's in this room and I'll tell you where after I've spoken with Voldemort." Harriet said calmly. She wasn't scared at all. Due to life with the Dursley's she had developed a mechanism that made sure she stayed calm in any given social situation. Especially when someone could potentially get mad at her. Reacting only made things worse.

"Let me speak to the child." Came the voice.

"Master, you are not strong enough." Quirrell said. Harriet almost giggled. This was like one of those films that Dudley liked. Was he going to preach about honour next? The right thing to do?

"I have enough strength for this." the voice insisted

Quirrell turned his back to Harriet and unraveled his turban.

'Yikes,' Harriet thought.

It was a strange situation. Talking to someone's face attached to the back of someone else's head was not something you encountered every day.

"Harriet Potter, we meet again." Voldemort looked terrible. Even for someone who's face had been glued to the back of someone else's head like a three-year-olds craft project. "Now you see what Dumbledore made of me. That night in which your parents died and you got that scar was a tragedy."

Harriet's mind started whirring. She had heard a few theories on her parents death by now. It would make sense for both Dumbledore and Voldemort to try and kill them. Both parties had something to gain from it, if her mother's notebook was to be believed. Could she trust him for now though?

"I am not at fault for your parents death. It was I that took an unbreakable vow with Snape to let no harm come to your parents. They were loyal friends." He continued.

She didn't have a lot of time or headspace to think it seemed. An unbreakable vow seemed like pretty solid credentials too.

"They simply knew too many of Dumbledore's secrets and recognised him for what he was. A manipulative evil. Therefore they had to go. According to Dumbledore at least. He stormed your house in disguise. You survived because of your mother. What she did, I do not know. But I do know that he will not be able to touch you."

Harriet had heard of those protection spells. She frowned and prodded Voldemort's cheek.

"Had to check." She shrugged.

"Well?" He asked.

"Well," Harriet said, "as far as the second point of view goes. That actually makes sense. If I ever find out you are lying,  I will stop at nothing to take you down. I hope that's clear.  Here's the stone. Good luck, I suppose."

She pulled the stone out of her pocket.

"Thank you. Much obliged." Voldemort said, "And you will find out that I am not lying. For now, I am afraid I must leave. I will put a sleep spell on you and make it look like there was a fight. We will see each other again sooner than you think."

"Sorry, wha-" Harriet hit the floor, out cold.

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Ayyy, last chapter coming up! Thank you all so much for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

XOXO, Drachma