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Chapter 41: I'm Never Alone
🕑 Added 2025-02-18 13:06:03 +0000 UTC
Quirrell was not in a good mood. To be precise, neither he nor Voldemort was in a good mood.
They had passed through all the obstacles silently and arrived at the place where the legendary Philosopher's Stone was stored. Fortunately, they had sought alternative means to get here—otherwise, they might have realized how absurd some of the previous obstacles were.
But now, in front of them stood a huge mirror.
The mirror was magnificent, reaching up to the ceiling, with a golden frame and two claw-shaped feet supporting it. Of course, they knew what this mirror was called—it was the Mirror of Erised.
The Mirror of Erised showed a person their deepest, most desperate desire.
But to be honest, the two of them had been staring into it for quite some time and still had not found what they desired most.
The Philosopher’s Stone.
Quirrell had gone through immense effort to reach this place, meticulously avoiding the traps along the way.
But there was nothing here—just this mirror!
"Have we been deceived?"
The thought haunted Quirrell’s mind. He truly felt as though he had been tricked.
After all, there was no sign of the stone—only this enormous, infuriating mirror that made his frustration mount.
Then, a series of explosions echoed from behind him.
The sound reminded Quirrell that someone else had entered the chamber, but he dared not leave. He had no choice.
Who knew what would happen if he failed to find the Philosopher's Stone?
If he returned empty-handed, the Death Eaters would certainly not let him off.
Quirrell let out a bitter chuckle. If he even lived long enough to face them, that would already be a mercy. The real danger was the entity sharing his body. Who knew what Voldemort would do to him if he failed?
The footsteps behind him grew closer, and Quirrell's expression darkened.
However, when he saw through the reflection of the Mirror of Erised that it was only a group of students—not Dumbledore—he breathed a small sigh of relief.
Thankfully, it was just a bunch of children.
Quirrell felt that fortune was on his side. Though he recognized the boy leading the group—Noah Finniel, the best student in the entire school—he wasn’t too concerned. He knew this Ravenclaw was exceptionally talented and had mastered advanced spells like Sectumsempra.
But so what?
At the end of the day, he was just a child.
Quirrell knew his own limits. His magic was only slightly stronger than that of a newly graduated seventh-year student. This was a long-standing problem in the wizarding world—magical strength and power levels were largely dependent on talent, and no one had yet discovered a way to overcome that barrier.
That said, as a former Ravenclaw, Quirrell was extremely knowledgeable. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to secure the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
His extensive knowledge of magic, theories, and spells allowed him to handle most situations.
As for these students?
Quirrell truly didn’t see them as a threat. But as he turned, he noticed that Harry Potter was among them, and a new idea struck him.
Just because he couldn't find the Philosopher's Stone didn't mean Harry couldn't.
Harry—the Boy Who Lived—the only person to survive the Dark Lord’s attack. Quirrell believed there had to be something special about him. Perhaps Harry would be the key to locating the stone.
“It’s you!”
When Noah and the others entered and saw a lone figure standing before the mirror, their nerves tensed.
But when Harry caught sight of the man’s reflection, his eyes widened in shock.
“Professor Quirrell? Why is it you? I thought it would be Snape!”
“Ah, yes… he does seem the type, doesn’t he?”
Quirrell turned to face them, his expression unreadable, his voice cold.
From his perspective, these children were already dead. There was no harm in entertaining them with a bit of conversation first.
“It’s you… no wonder.” Noah acted as if he had just put the pieces together. “With him around, who would ever suspect poor, stammering Professor Quirrell?”
Quirrell let out a rare smile. “You’re sharp, Mr. Finniel. As a fellow Ravenclaw, I must say—I’m proud of you. But you really shouldn’t have followed these reckless Gryffindors. It will cost you your life.”
“I appreciate the advice, but if I recall correctly, you were also taught by Professor Flitwick, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Professor Flitwick… I have great respect for him.”
“Then I wonder if you remember something he once said—‘Do not let fear and darkness consume your heart.’”
Quirrell’s face twisted in irritation. He wanted to snap at Noah, to tell him he knew nothing.
But logic told him there was no point.
There was no need to answer.
He had already made his choice long ago.
And besides, he was not alone.
“I see you don’t wish to answer that,” Noah said with a smirk. “By the way, I heard about the Quidditch match when Harry’s broom went out of control. Sorry, I’m not really interested in Quidditch, so I didn’t watch it. Harry thought it was Professor Snape behind it, but now it seems that was you, wasn’t it?”
Quirrell chuckled. “Yes, it was me. If it hadn’t been for that meddling Snape, believe me—Harry would have been dead that day.”
“What?!”
Harry and Ron gasped in unison, their faces filled with shock.
They had always believed Snape to be the villain. But now, the truth was the exact opposite. Snape had been the one protecting Harry all along!
It was unbelievable.
“Nothing is impossible,” Quirrell sneered. “If it weren’t for Snape’s powerful counter-curse, I would have succeeded.”
His smirk faded, replaced by a look of cold calculation.
“See, Harry? I told you Snape wouldn’t try to kill you,” Noah said with a shrug. “Turns out I was right.”
Harry, however, was still too stunned to reply.
“But let’s get back to the real topic,” Quirrell said, his eyes narrowing. “For a long time, I believed Harry was my greatest threat. But now, I see that it’s you and your little friends who pose the real danger… especially after Halloween.”
“Oh? Is that so? Should I take that as a compliment?” Noah replied.
For some reason, Quirrell had shifted the focus of the conversation back to Noah and his group.
Kenn and the others exchanged glances. Something about Quirrell’s words felt off—but at the same time, they couldn’t shake the sense that this was exactly where the conversation was meant to go.
And then, realization struck.
“So, it was you who released the troll on Halloween.”
Quirrell smirked. “That’s right. Unfortunately, because of that, Snape began to suspect me. He never let me act alone after that.”
He turned to face the Mirror of Erised once more, his expression unreadable. Then, a sinister grin spread across his lips.
“But you see… I have never been alone.”
