Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: This was written for a TGYH Challenge on DarkLordPotter forums, the phrase being: "Have you ever had the urge to destroy something beautiful? I have. Quite often, to tell you the truth." Also, I never liked canon!Quirrel and always felt that this scene had a lot more potential than JRK explored in it.

Reviews make me happy =D

Ice coursing through his veins, he stepped through the black fire.

There – standing in front of a mirror – was a turbaned figure. "Professor Quirrel!" exclaimed Harry. Quirrel's head turned to look at him, quick as a whip. "Potter," he said impassively, "I had wondered if I would be seeing you here. The protections on the Stone are truly pathetic."

Harry stood there, gaping, frozen in shock. "But – but I thought Snape – " he stuttered.

"Snape?" Quirrel smirked. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So… intimidating. Rather bothersome to have him pestering me all the time, but inconsequential in the end…" he trailed off.

"V-Voldemort! Where is he?" Harry shouted, nearing panic as all his plans were torn to shreds. Not that he had many in the first place, but having all of your expectations defied was nearly as bad for one's concentration.

"The Dark Lord?" Quirrel sounded amused. "Why, he is here with us. But that is beside the point – be still while I examine this very interesting… mirror." With that, he flicked his wand – how had it gotten into his hand that fast? – and turned back to the mirror, muttering to himself.

Harry dropped to the floor, completely petrified, and let out a grunt. As he lay against the uncomfortable stone, his mind reeled from the shock – hadn't Snape tried to kill him? Hadn't it been Snape, after all, mangled by Fluffy? And Quirrel had said that Voldemort was with them! Was he somewhere in the room, watching them? He was prevented from voicing these thoughts by the magical binding on him, however.

With a start, Harry realized that Quirrel was standing in front of the Mirror of Erised. He thought it must have been Dumbledore's protection – it had been Dumbledore, after all, who had found him in front of the mirror, and told him of its purpose. With another start, he hoped that wizards couldn't read minds, though he had his suspicions about Snape – it seemed that Quirrel had not yet deciphered the inscription, and he didn't want to give the man any clues as to how the mirror worked.

Suddenly, Quirrel straightened up. He seemed to still, as if considering something of vast importance. Appearing to come to a decision, he tilted his head slightly sideways, and asked quietly, "Have you ever had the urge to destroy something beautiful? I have. Quite often, to tell you the truth. Oh, you can't talk. How silly of me –" he flicked his wand again, and Harry could suddenly move his mouth again.

But before he could formulate a reply, a hissing, high-pitched voice seemed to emanate from Quirrel's general direction, "What are you doing, fool? Get the Stone! Use the boy – he may know how the mirror works!"

At this, Quirrel's eyes narrowed, and as if steeling himself for something painful, he turned back to the mirror. His hand, with his wand still in it, slowly raised itself to point at the mirror. "Quirrel, cease this foolishness! If you cannot do what needs to be done, cede control to me!" the voice hissed urgently.

Harry's mind boggled – was that Voldemort? "Is that… him?" he said, whispering despite himself.

Quirrel, not glancing back, his wand still pointed at the mirror, replied slowly, quietly, "Indeed. He is here –" and he tapped the back of his turban, " –and, when I first met him, I had thought to join him, to learn what destruction was. Yet, as I quickly learned, what the Dark Lord sought was not the destruction of beauty, but the destruction of everything. And I see now that his vision and mine are not the same, will never be the same – " "What are you babbling about, you idiot?" Voldemort, for it was truly him, seemed to be getting irritated.

"Only this –" Qurriel said, still pointing his wand at the mirror, and he spoke an incantation, " – Ignefas!" Out of his wand erupted a great shape of fire, and Harry could feel the heat from all the way across the room. The shape descended on the mirror, and with a noise like the very air was being rent apart, the great mirror shattered.

Quirrel dispelled the fire, and turned fully to face Harry. Voldemort was screaming his fury, but neither Harry nor Quirrel paid him any heed – both were beyond it now, though for very different reasons. Quirrel's lips quirked up in what appeared to be a genuine smile, and he said without a trace of levity in his voice, "I hope to see you well in the future, Mr. Potter."

Finally, he turned his wand on himself, and intoned a great voice that belied any hesitation, "Anima Rima!"