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Chapter 21

The Mirror of Erised

Harry began to feel more and more alone, passed the point of no return. He entered a large chamber the size of a cathedral. Harry realized the room was designed like a stadium. The room sank lower and lower on steps, as if for people to sit on. The center of the room was also the lowest point of the chamber, like a fighting ring. Harry saw that the Mirror of Erised was in the middle of this ring. He then saw that a figure was standing in front of the mirror and he was shocked when he realized that it was not the easily recognizable form of Snape. Voldemort was his first thought, but then he recognized the purple turban.

"Quirrell?" Harry said, his voice echoing loudly through the room.

It was undeniable; the figure standing in front of the mirror was Quirrell. He turned around and faced Harry, an unnaturally cold expression on his usually nervous face.

"You? But Snape he was…"

"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he?" Quirrell said in a cool and collected voice quite unlike his own. He then turned back, facing the mirror.

"But Snape tried to kill me, at the Quidditch match."

"He was rather annoying then. I would probably have succeeded in killing you had he not been muttering his counter curses."

"Snape was trying to save me…" Harry said in an unbelieving voice.

"You catch on quick," Quirrell said rather sarcastically, gazing into the mirror.

"Then you let the troll in!"

"Yes, Snape had always suspected me, unfortunately. So my diversion didn't work since he headed me off on the third floor."

Harry was silent, he could hardly believe it. Snape wasn't trying to steal the stone, it was Quirrell, stuttering and whimpering Professor Quirrell.

"Snape was rather annoying in my pursuit of the Stone," Quirrell said simply. "Always trying to catch me alone, but unfortunately for him I'm never alone, and soon I shall figure this mirror out, get the Stone, and be a long ways away from here."

"You can't take the Stone!"

Quirrell didn't say anything. Harry began to try and think of ways he could stop Quirrell. He pulled out his wand, remembering the full body bind that Hermione used on Neville. He lifted his wand and pointed it at Quirrell's back, only to feel it pulled very suddenly from his hand. It flew towards Quirrell who caught it seamlessly. Harry stood there, dumbfounded, unsure of what to do now. Quirrell continued to gaze into the mirror.

"It would seem that staring into the mirror is quite unproductive. Why not allow someone else to gaze into it?" came a very sudden voice. It echoed loudly throughout the room. Harry looked around; there was a third person in the room?

Quirrell spun from his position and glared at Harry, who took an unconscious step backwards.

"Potter!"

Harry's legs felt horribly weak as he stumbled towards the bellowing mad man against his will. He was at a disadvantage: no wand and no ways to protect himself. As he stood in front of the large mirror, he felt Quirrell's icy grip clench painfully onto his shoulders to prevent any form of escape.

"Now," he said from next to him. "What is it that you see?"

Harry looked from the teacher to the mirror, unsure of how this was supposed to mean anything. He knew what the mirror would show him, and he didn't quite understand how that could help Quirrell.

However, the image in the mirror was vastly different from the ones he saw previously. Instead of his parents smiling faces, he saw himself standing in his exact spot, but clutched in his hands was a deep crimson stone. Harry's eyes widened as his mirrored image placed the stone in his pocket, and then winked at him.

Hesitantly, Harry tilted his fingers to feel the sudden bulge in his pocket. He tapped it, feeling a hard object present. Harry gasped.

"What? What is it? What do you see?" Quirrell's anxious voice rung overhead, his grip tightened.

"I—I am shaking hands with Dumbledore… I see myself holding the House Cup…" Harry tried to come up with a reasonable lie, but found himself stumbling over his words.

"The boy lies. He evidently believes his wit far surpasses your own."

There was that voice again. It seemed to echo in the room, just like both his and Quirrell's and therefore made it impossible to locate where they were.

"Who..? Where..?" Was all Harry could say.

Quirrell gave a short smirk.

"You'd do well to tell the truth. My master is not kind to those who lie to him."

"Your master? You mean Voldemort? He's here?" Harry began to panic slightly and look around worried.

"Yes, my master is with me wherever I go. As I told you Potter, Snape could never catch me alone because I was simply never alone."

"I still don't understand how it's you and not Snape. I always thought Snape hated me."

"It would seem that Snape hates everyone."

"Enough of this idle chit-chat," came the echoing voice once more. Harry began to back away from Quirrell, keeping the exit in reach. "While I am sure your gregarious tendencies could in fact hold the interest of the common unsophisticated rube, Quirinus, I feel that Mr. Harry Potter should be properly introduced first."

"Master? But you haven't the strength!" Quirrell sputtered.

"I shall decide what I have the strength for, Quirinus…"

The voice drifted off as Quirrell's trembling hands fumbled with the purple turban wrapped around his head. It felt like hours before he managed to undo the whole piece, and when it was finally removed, the shaking man threw the cloth into the corner. His eyes suddenly looked very hollow, much like a dead man. Hesitantly, he turned his head away so that his back was facing Harry.

Harry felt his throat go dry. Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been was another face, skin pulled taunt over fleshy features in an unnatural map of facial expressions. Two filmy eyes blinked warily at him from within Quirrell's skull. Harry took several steps backwards.

"Ah, so you see, Mr. Potter? A rather unconventional way to exist. I find it a rather distasteful means of survival, relying on the wasteful sack of flesh before you…but how rude of me… Let me introduce myself: I am Lord Voldemort."

Harry couldn't find his words to speak; he merely gaped at the face in shocked horror.

"My, my Mr. Potter, where are your manners? Did your mummy and daddy not reach you how to properly introduce yourself? Tut, tut, for shame. I think they would be gravely ashamed of your disgraceful etiquette."

"You killed my parents!" Harry said, finding his voice.

"A minor inconvenience, I would not say that your rudeness is excused by such."

"I'm not talking about being polite or anything, you are responsible for my parents' deaths!" Harry said in an accusing tone, trying to keep his composure strong enough to not break down.

"A well established veritable," Voldemort said simply.

Harry gazed back into the white, filmy eyes of Voldemort. He had sometimes wondered what sort of person Voldemort must have been and now he knew; he was the type of person that discussed death like one would the weather.

"Oh, and as you can so clearly tell," Voldemort began in a drawling voice. "My current state of health has been less than stellar as of lately, and the only means of habituating is to harvest what I can off the unicorn. Conveniently enough, there is a simple cure to my detestable situation, and it lies within your pocket."

Harry visibly flinched. He knew! Without wasting any time, Harry turned and ran for the exit. He half wondered why Voldemort wasn't chasing after him until he made it to the door, and flames suddenly sprung from the walls, engulfing the exit in a heated barrier of white hot flames. Harry stepped back slightly in surprise. He turned back to Voldemort, not trusting to have his back turned. He put a protective hand over the stone in his pocket.

"I won't give it to you! Never!"

"How is your dear poor sister Cosette doing, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked simply, interrupting the moment. Harry was caught off guard, wondering what his sister had to do with anything.

"My sister has nothing to do with this!" Harry yelled, suddenly feeling angry. What did he know about Cosette?

"Ah yes, pitiful looking girl isn't she? So small and weak. Has she been fitting in well? I wonder what she'd do in your present situation. Would she stand just as brave, or would she cower in fear, would she cry like the sniveling child she is? I think so. She wouldn't resist quite as strongly in handing the Stone to me, after all, its purpose is far above her understanding. How do you think she would fair, Harry? How long would she resist? Hm? How would daddy's little girl hold up? Would she crumble within the first few seconds of my torture, or would she martyr herself and lay out her life in ensure the Stone's protection? I think the choice is quite clear."

Instantly and without his control, Harry felt unwanted images being forced into his brain. His scar burned hotly and his hand flew to grasp it as images appeared in his head. Images of his sister kneeling on the floor, crying, screaming in agony as Voldemort stood above her, blood leaking from her body until a final image nestled itself in his mind; Cosette's lifeless eyes staring vacantly as her bloodied hand dropped the stone by Voldemort's feet.

"No!" Harry yelled. His eyes clenched shut tightly against the images as they kept cycling over and over.

"Kindly give me the Stone, Harry. It is in your family's best interest to do so, after all, there are so few of you left."

Harry gasped for breath and glared at Voldemort's mutilated face, trying to block out the thoughts running rampant in his head.

"You…you won't touch her… and you…won't get…the Stone…" Harry huffed, his scar burned like never before, as if it had suddenly caught fire on his forehead.

He saw the look on Voldemort's face drop slightly.

"Such a pity then, I didn't want to dispose of you quite yet, Harry. We have so much in common, after all, and the world is far more interesting with you in it."

Harry didn't have time to wonder about these words as Quirrell unexpectedly sprung to life. Harry had momentarily forgotten the presence of the other man for one ridiculous moment, and it wasn't until the man came flying at him that Harry remembered to move. He tried desperately to get out of the way, but found himself pinned to the ground under Quirrell's much larger form. The man's hand went straight at his throat.

Harry gasped weakly, trying to suck in air as Quirrell choked the life out of him. His hands lashed out around him, trying with all his might to reach for something that could help him. His scar was burning blindly and almost rendered him unconscious, yet, just as suddenly as Quirrell's hands touched him, they pulled back, and he howled.

"Master! Master, I can't touch him!" he screamed out in pain. Quirrell was looking at his fingers and Harry followed his vision, and saw in a sudden wave of disgust, the charred and blackened crust that was once Quirrell's hands. The stench alone was almost overpowering.

"My hands! My hands!" the man screamed, eyes widened in horror.

"Fool, kill the boy!" Voldemort said, but Quirrell wasn't listening, he just kept staring at the cracked embers that were once his hands, howling madly. Harry didn't understand what was going on, only that his hands suddenly became the ultimate weapon against Voldemort. With a sudden thought, Harry looked down at his hands and then glared at the blubbering man over him, yipping and stuttering in an almost reminiscent and highly ironic fashion. Raising his hands, Harry went to push Quirrell off of him, managing to slap him hard across the face. Quirrell screamed in pain, and curled his blackened hands over his face, trying to stop the sudden smoke that rose. He curled himself into a pitiful ball whimpering loudly.

Harry wanted to get up, to get himself out of there, but he found his body reacting sluggishly. He felt his vision cloud over and blacken, and his eyelids felt suddenly heavy. A wave of dizziness came over him and he suddenly felt like he was falling into a blackness, hearing only Voldemort's angry bellows and Quirrell's pathetic shrieks and whimpers…

Cosette spent an hour or so cowering under the desk until finally the effects of being chased by the monster, whom she deduced was the beast affectionately called "Fluffy," seemed to wear off. She slowly came out from under the desk and began to pace anxiously. After a while, she began to look around the room, curiously intrigued by the many jars with various slimy creatures pickling within. She approached one jar filled with a jelly like, yellow substance. An unrecognizable blob floated inside. Cosette thought it looked like a space cloud called a nebula or something that she learned in Astronomy class. She tapped the glass wondering if it would respond when quite suddenly it parted, revealing itself to be a large lidded eyeball. Cosette shirked back abruptly in surprise as the bulbous pupil surveyed her. Staring at it unnerved for a moment, she turned away quickly, trying her best to ignore it as her attention shifted to one of the tall bookshelves in the office.

She looked at the various titles on one bookshelf noting that all of them were well organized alphabetically. She loved books, and ached desperately to take one off the shelves, but she serious questioned how smart it was to touch any of Professor Snape's possessions.

She looked around, staring at the door and noting the silence from the other side. Maybe she could take one off the shelf and get some light reading done before the Potions Master came back. She had already been here for hours.

Looking around and taking a deep breath, she slowly peeled one of the books off the shelf, a volume titled: 'Grunther's Encyclopedia of Organic Potion Making, Volume 1.'

Just then, the door flew open. Cosette panicked slightly as she stuffed the book back onto the shelf, backing away and trying her best to look innocent. She was somewhat surprised to see that it wasn't Professor Snape that entered the room first, but Headmaster Dumbledore, a pleasant smile on his face. Snape followed shortly after Dumbledore, scanning the room as if to assess any damage done to it in his absence. His eyes landed on the book Cosette had taken from the shelf, staring at it for several seconds.

"Ah, there you are Cosette, I have been looking all over for you."

Cosette looked up at the elderly man, wondering if he was entirely sane.

"Now first things first, we must get something very important sorted. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

Cosette didn't say anything; she simply sidled away from Dumbledore to stand closer to Professor Snape, where she suddenly felt much safer.

"That's a no then?" Dumbledore smiled as he ate one of the lemon drops. "Now then, I want you to know that all the danger has been sorted out."

"Is it dead?" Cosette asked instantly.

"Severus?"

Snape glared at Dumbledore and then his eyes slowly shifted down to Cosette.

"Yes, I killed it."

Cosette's eyes widened in amazement as her opinion of the Potions Master seemed to increase.

"Yes, our Gamekeeper is quite distressed over the whole affair," Dumbledore said simply. "Though we couldn't have it running about the castle, sadly."

Cosette didn't say anything, even though she wanted to desperately. Why was it there to begin with?

"We are deeply sorry that you got involved in this whole fiasco," Dumbledore said sadly. "It goes deeper than you know, but for now, all is well."

Cosette was still silent, wishing she had the confidence to voice her questions. Instead, she just felt like shrinking back.

"There will be more time to explain everything that has happened, but I think you should know that your brother is in the Hospital Wing. I would encourage you not to worry however as he is expected to make a speedy and full recovery."

Cosette's eyes widened and she momentarily forgot the dog even existed. Her brother was in the Hospital Wing?

"Now then, I think it best we all go to bed. We will be able to better deal with these matters after a good night's sleep. Come on my dear, I shall escort you back to your dormitory."

Cosette looked fearfully at the door, remembering the growling and snarling from Fluffy.

"C-can Professor Snape escort me instead?" Cosette murmured miserably, thinking of all the other rabid beasts that could potentially be wandering the dungeons of the school.

Dumbledore gave a small smile, a twinkle in his eye.

"But of course, it is only appropriate I imagine that your Head of House take charge of the present situation."

Snape looked at Dumbledore; a small twinge of dislike could be seen in his emotionless features.

"Good night Severus, see you in the morning," Dumbledore said as he turned, disappearing through the door with a swish of his cloak.

Snape didn't say anything for several moments. He looked down at Cosette, and Cosette looked up, realizing with a slight shock that this was the first time in the entire year that they had made any form of eye contact. It was rather odd; Snape's eyes gave the weird feeling that he was reading her mind and she thought briefly that knowing the wizarding world at this point, he probably was. This made her turn away quickly.

Snape turned and quickly walked out, making long strides out the door, giving no indication that she was meant to follow or turning to make sure she was. She quickly made to keep up with him as they made their way back to the dormitory.

Harry fell down into complete darkness as he fainted. He saw something gold floating above him, the Snitch was his first thought. He couldn't quite tell what it was, as he realized he wasn't wearing his glasses. He tried to reach up and grab the Snitch but found his arms to be incredibly heavy. It was with some very sluggish movement that he lifted his right arm to grab to gold object, realizing that there was someone's face behind it and it certainly was not a Snitch. He realized rather slowly through his blurry vision that he was holding a pair of eye glasses. Remembering Quirrell, he panicked, trying to sit up but finding he couldn't, and he stuffed the glasses hastily onto his face. They felt odd and unfamiliar on his face, the lenses were not circular like his own glasses, but at least now his vision wasn't blurry. Light began to flood his eyes as he looked up into the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, looking somewhat peculiar without his half-moon shaped glasses. The elderly wizard gave a small smile.

"I'm glad to see that you finally came to, Harry," Dumbledore said simply.

"Professor! Quirrell, he has the Stone, you have to stop him!"

"Relax dear boy, Quirrell does not have the stone."

"What about Voldemort?" Harry said immediately.

"It seems that you are a bit behind on the times, dear boy."

Harry puzzled over his meaning.

"The Stone, Quirrell has been trying to steal it! He won't stop until he has it and then he'll bring Voldemort back!"

"Now then dear boy, relax or I dare say Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Harry slowly looked around, realizing that he was in the Hospital Wing. His many cuts and bruises had been bandaged and a giant pile of sweets, get well cards, and oddly enough, a toilet seat lay at the foot of his bed.

"Tokens from your many friends and admirers," Dumbledore said, fitting a pair of round spectacles onto his face. The glasses looked awfully familiar.

"Sir… what happened?" Harry asked, trying to piece everything together.

Dumbledore's eyes shined.

"Well you see Harry, what happened between you and Quirrell down the trap door is a secret, so naturally, the whole school knows. I had found you down there quite affright by the sight before me."

"You saved me…" Harry murmured.

"Yes, but I do say you were doing an admirable job yourself, for a first year," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"So then… the Stone…" Harry started.

"It is safe, though I have spoken with my dear friend Nicolas, and we have agreed that it should be destroyed before any other harm can happen because of it."

Harry sat back with a solemn look on his face, turning to look back up at Dumbledore; he only then recognized his glasses. Face blooming red, Harry pulled the spectacles off his face and studied them.

"Um…sir…?" Harry offered them unsurely.

Dumbledore smiled and calmly switched glasses with him, placing his own half-mooned shaped glasses in the familiar imprint on his crooked nose.

"Your friends Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger have been worried about you, and your sister…well, I had to usher her off, the poor girl. She has hardly left your side these past three days."

"Three days?" Harry said with widened eyes. He was out for three whole days? She was here? Why? He thought she was mad at him.

The elderly wizard nodded. There was long pause where neither of them said anything. Dumbledore hummed a merry tune as his eyes slowly drifted to the ceiling.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore said coming out of his trance.

"Is there any way that Voldemort might be able to come back?"

"I am afraid to say there are ways he can return. Perhaps he will find another body to share. Not being truly dead, he cannot be killed." Dumbledore gave a small smile. "However, it would seem that you have delayed his return to power, still it will only take one other poor soul such as Quirrell's who is willing to fight what seems to be a losing battle for Voldemort to get over the threshold back into power."

"Why would Quirrell do such a thing? Willingly give his body to someone else? It seems so…"

"Intrusive?" Dumbledore supplied. Harry was going to go for "crowded," trying to share one body and all.

"You see Harry, Quirrell was weak. During school, he was a brilliant student, but always desired to be recognized. He was the running competition of another student in his year, a fellow Ravenclaw housemate. However, the other boy had the wiles and charms to surmount him. Quirrell never had the self-confidence in himself, or the natural charisma of his rival. It seems that that was the catalyst in his life. While his rival went to become a renowned, well-respected author and won many awards, including a Third Class Order of Merlin, he resigned himself into a teaching career, a job that fit his more mundane lifestyle."

Dumbledore looked forlornly out the window.

"I blame myself for not realizing it sooner, but his desire for prestige and respect had only grown after time. He found himself searching for his fame, and wound up finding Voldemort."

"But why would he join him? Didn't he know what he was in for?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"Ah Harry, Voldemort can be very persuasive. He searches everyone for their weaknesses and exploits them without mercy. He convinced Quirrell through promises of his every desire. Quirrell became blinded by them, and Voldemort grabbed onto that weakness. After a time, Quirrell had no choice in the matter. He became as much a victim as any of us."

This answer surprised Harry. It was hard to imagine that Quirrell was actually innocent, that he was taken control of by Voldemort, that he probably was forced to do all those things, simply because he wanted to make a name for himself. Harry almost felt bad for Quirrell. No one deserved that.

"Sir, what happened to Quirell? Where is he now?"

Dumbledore suddenly frowned.

"I'm sorry to say, that Quirrell's body was destroyed during the whole encounter."

"I…killed him…" Harry murmured, and his eyes went wide. Harry had killed someone. He had murdered a teacher. The boy's blood ran cold. He killed someone. He was a murderer. A murderer.

"Harry."

His name snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked at the elderly wizard.

"You must understand. Quirrell has been dead ever since he joined his soul with Voldemort. What you faced was nothing but a shell in which Voldemort used as a tool to survive. A mere puppet."

It was some relief, but hard to believe. How could he be so sure?

"And even if there was some part of Quirinus still in there," Dumbledore placed a hand on Harry's shoulder . "He would have wanted you to finally release him from the control he couldn't overcome himself."

He opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn't let anything escape. Release him? Free him from Voldemort's clutches? Harry still couldn't shake the fact that it was him, what his hands did. Maybe there could have been another way…something else to save Quirrell. As much as he didn't like the man, he didn't deserve to die…

"Do not pity his existence; you are not to blame for any of this, Harry. Promise me you won't. Death is too big a burden to be placed on someone as young as you. You are a compassionate boy. And I hope that you will have that same compassion for those in the future who have also chosen the wrong path. We all can find our way back to the light. Remember this."

Harry nodded, but stopped as he realized that it hurt. He then turned to Dumbledore.

"Sir? There is something I've been wondering about," Harry said. "I want to know something, the truth."

Dumbledore gave a small smile.

"The truth is a wonderful and terrible thing, I shall answer your question if I can but you must trust me when I say that I shall not or cannot answer you something, for I will not lie to you Harry."

Harry nodded, then cringed.

"Well firstly, why is it that Quirr—" Harry choked on the name, finding it hard to utter it as he was hit with guilt and despair, "He burnt up when he touched me?"

Dumbledore slowly sat down on the edge of Harry's bed.

"Your mother was a very vibrant and brave woman. She made the ultimate sacrifice in order to protect you. Such an act leaves a very powerful mark. Quirrell shared his soul with Voldemort and the protection your mother gave you that tragic night has simply never died, and as such her protection lives on in you and your sister. Voldemort cannot bear to touch you."

Harry sniffed involuntarily as he tried to hold back his tears. Dumbledore in the meantime seemed to become interested in a bird sitting on the windowsill. When Harry regained his composure, he asked Dumbledore another question.

"What about my invisibility cloak…did you send it to me?"

Dumbledore smiled.

"Hm, I see I am not as sneaky as I once thought, but yes. I am the one who sent it to you. Your father used to use it to sneak about, mainly to sneak into the girl's locker rooms… anyway, I thought you might want it, and to your sister, I gave the locket."

Harry was silent for a moment.

"And one more thing… It's about Snape."

"That's professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected.

"Right, him," Harry continued. "Why doesn't he like me very much? I mean, people told me he is mean to everyone…but I feel that there is something more. I mean, I was convinced he didn't like me because he knew I was on to him, but he never intended to steal the stone anyway."

"Ah," Dumbledore stroked his beard. "Yes you see, it seems that Professor Snape never got on too well with your father when he was your age. The two fought quite frequently, much like yourself and Mr. Malfoy."

Harry thought this made much sense, picturing Snape as the tormenting Slytherin with the pompous stuck up, bullying attitude—it seemed to fit his character.

"Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie 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 as he walked over to the candy in question and opened one up and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth.

He chewed pleasantly for a few seconds before saying, "Alas! Ear wax."

Harry smiled and Dumbledore returned it.

"I bid you good day Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, leaving the hospital wing.

Upon leaving the hospital wing he heard Dumbledore address someone outside.

"You can go in now, but I dare say Madam Pomfrey will not be pleased. Good day to you."

Harry watched as both Ron and Hermione pelted through the door, running over to his bedside.

"Oh Harry, we were so worried!" Hermione said, looking like she was ready to fling her arms around him again. Harry was glad she didn't.

"Everyone in the school is talking about it mate, what actually happened?"

Harry told them everything that happened. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they were silent and gasped in horror at all the right moments in his tale. He finished by relating his conversation that he had with Dumbledore, he left out the part where he took Dumbledore's glasses, and the part about Quirr— him.

"So the Stone's gone?" Ron said dully.

"Yeah."

"Flamel will die, won't he?" Hermione said.

Harry nodded his head gravely.

"What happened with you guys after I left?"

"Well, it's not very exciting. We made it into the chess room when, of all people, Snape showed up with Dumbledore. We tried to warn Dumbledore, but he simply explained to us that Snape was not involved and preceded into the next room after you. He told Snape to deal with us and he brought us both back up through the trap door, dropping us both off in the Hospital Wing," Hermione sighed.

"And taking about a hundred house points," Ron mumbled.

The group was silent for several moments.

"Slytherin definitely won the house cup," Ron said out of the blue.

Harry looked at him.

"We got swamped by Ravenclaw in yesterday's match," Ron said dully. "Still, you have to be at the end of the year feast tomorrow, the food will still be good."

"Yeah," Harry said vaguely.

"Oh, by the way Harry, I collected your grades for you," Hermione said handing him a slip of parchment from her pocket.

"Hermione wouldn't let me read it, she said only you could decide if you wanted to share your grades or not. Let me see them," Ron said.

Harry immediately and without question handed the parchment to Ron. Hermione looked reproachfully at the exchange.

Ron unfolded the paper and gave a small laugh.

"Ha, you got a T in Potions, that's worst than my grade!" He handed Harry the parchment.

Harry looked at it grimly, noticing the angry, bold mark by his grade.

"Even if he didn't actually try to steal the Stone, I still hate that greasy git," Harry said grimly.

The feast the following night was wonderful. Harry was glad that Dumbledore had told Madam Pomfrey he was allowed to come because the healer did not seem at all happy about the prospect and if left up to her authority, Harry probably would have still been there. Harry was swarmed by a thick entourage of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and a few Slytherins, all eager to hear the story of him and Quirrell and what actually happened. Cosette watched rather mournfully from her usual secluded corner of the Slytherin table. She was still shaken by the news that her brother was put in such danger and nearly died because of it.

The night that Cosette was told that her brother was in the Hospital Wing, she couldn't sleep a wink. She skipped breakfast to go and visit him to find him to be very poor conversation being unconscious. She was only able to be pulled away after Madam Pomfrey insisted that she go to class. Cosette did as she was told miserably.

At least her teachers were pleased that she got most of her make-up work done, though she didn't have much luck paying attention to any of them in class, not even Professor Snape's class which she liked even more after that night he saved her from the three-headed dog. When she got her grades, she was a little put out to notice that they hadn't improved by much, only the Defense Against the Dark Arts grade showed any improvement, only because of how ridiculously easy the exam was. She also noted with a pang of disappointment that her Potions grade had dropped an entire grade. It seemed that unlike the other teachers, Professor Snape was not as willing to erase those missing assignments from her absence while in the Hospital Wing.

She skipped lunch to visit her brother and did the same at dinner, but the next day, when she tried to skip breakfast again, Madam Pomfrey, who was well aware of Cosette's habit of taking ill care of herself, told her, "You either pick a bed, or go to your meals." Cosette miserably picked the latter, dreading another stay at the Hospital Wing. She still visited when she could, not daring to leave his side. She tried to ignore the growing number of sweets, get well cards and other assorted gifts. No one sent her gifts when she was in the Hospital Wing, why does Harry get so many? Fred and George stopped in to drop off of all things a toilet seat, and despite having a certain fondness for the twins, she was in no mood for their antics which they, unlike most, seemed to catch onto really fast.

Worst still was all the rumors that were spreading around and after hearing several different versions of the same ludicrous story, she felt less inclined to sit at her brother's side so loyally after hearing the some of the accounts of how he got into the Hospital Wing to begin with. But she needed to make sure her brother was alright, she didn't know what she would do without him.

She was pried away from him by the Headmaster one day, who later reported that he had come to and he was going to be alright. As soon as this news reached her ears, she resumed her almost obsessive habit of ignoring Harry. He didn't need her; he had friends that replaced her. She couldn't help but feel resentful at her twin's own stupidity in going after the Stone as he supposedly did. Not to mention no one seemed to care how stupid it was, they were all intrigued and impressed by him as they always were by everything the famous Harry Potter seemed to do.

Even though she cared little for the House Cup, she was at least glad her house got that over Harry's, and was pleased to see the Great Hall decked in green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's hard earned victory on the night of the end of the year feast, even with everyone crowding around Harry.

She tried her best to eat her food, and ignore everyone around her, which was easier given the fact that Melvin Aguillard was among Harry's entourage. She was going to leave as soon as dessert began, but decided to stay, if just to see Harry's defeated expression when her house was awarded the House Cup after the feast. The thought of even touching any of the dessert items, however, made her feel quite ill. After dessert came the moment that Cosette was so anxious to be there for. Dumbledore stood up, Harry's entourage found their seats and everyone quickly quieted down.

"Another year, gone…" the old man announced to the room. "I trust that everyone here has learned much this past year, and grown that much stronger and wiser," Dumbledore beamed at all the students, pausing for a moment.

"Now, the house points need counting, and most of all, the House Cup needs awarding," Dumbledore said pausing for a moment. "And it gives me great pleasure to do both." Dumbledore gave another pause.

"In fourth place, with three-hundred and twelve points, Gryffindor house!" There was a very half-hearted round of applause at this, with some of the Slytherins jeering with laughter as well. Dumbledore continued. "In third, with three-hundred and fifty-two, Hufflepuff." Yet another mild amount of cheering.

"In second place, Ravenclaw house, with four-hundred and twenty-six." At this, there was more clapping, and some mildly animated cheering from the Ravenclaw table.

"And finally, in first place, with four-hundred and seventy-two, Slytherin!" Dumbledore announced proudly. There was much cheering, table banging and shouting from the Slytherin table. Everyone seemed happy, even Cosette. The only Slytherin that seemed unhappy was Aguillard, who was insisting it should have gone to Hufflepuff.

"Yes, well done Slytherin, a very good year indeed. However, I have a few last minute points to reward as certain circumstances deem such appropriate."

Everyone was silent once more; the Slytherins looked at Dumbledore confused. Cosette stared at the elderly wizard; what could his implications possibly be?

"First, to Mr. Ronald Weasley." Ron went quite red, taking on the shade of a badly sunburned radish. "For outstanding loyalty to his friends, I award Gryffindor house, fifty points."

There was a round of cheering from the Gryffindor table, they had beat Hufflepuff and were now in third place. Aguillard groaned in protest as the rubies counting the Gryffindor points flew down among the other rubies.

"Next, to Ms. Hermione Granger," Dumbledore said proudly after the cheering had subsided. "For cool use of logic in the most dire of circumstances, I award another fifty points to Gryffindor."

There was another round of cheering from the Gryffindor table. Cosette could hardly believe it; the Headmaster was going to give the House Cup to the Gryffindors after all. She supposed it was to be expected, all the teachers except for Snape seemed to favor Gryffindor house, especially since her brother, the famous Harry Potter, was in it.

"To Mr. Harry Potter," Dumbledore pressed on. Cosette couldn't believe it, it seems that stupidity and rule breaking was always rewarded at this god forsaken school. First he's on the Quidditch team, and now this.

"For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house, sixty points."

The din was deafening as the Gryffindors realized that they had tied with Slytherin for the House Cup. Cosette looked helplessly at the other teachers, would they do nothing to stop Dumbledore from being this unfair? She looked towards Snape, her favorite teacher, who did nothing but sit and stare at Dumbledore, pure loathing burning in his eyes. She supposed Snape couldn't do anything, Dumbledore was the Headmaster, but at least he seemed to disapprove. At least they were only tied for the Cup, maybe that would mean they both could win it. Cosette realized she was wrong as Dumbledore continued to speak.

"Lastly, courage is a very important thing, and while it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to ones enemies, it takes a great deal more to stand up to your friends, which is why I award ten points, to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The Gryffindors at this point had all stood up, cheering loudly, while the Slytherins looked hurt and cheated. The older students scoffed and kept murmuring things like, "I knew it," and "I told you so." Some of the Slytherin first years even began to cry.

"Assuming my calculations are correct, I believe a change of decoration is in order!" Dumbledore yelled over the cheering that he simply could not stop. He clapped his hands and the many green and silver decorations turned to red and gold, filling the Great Hall with the vibrant Gryffindor colors.

"Gryffindor wins the House Cup!" Dumbledore announced proudly.

Cosette stared mortified at the Headmaster. It was definitely a fitting way to finish off the worst year of her life so far. She got up and left, as many of the Slytherins did without even waiting to be dismissed. Instead of going to the common room like the others in her house however, she turned and went to the boathouse to grab her books and pack up, hopefully before Nott, Parkinson, or even Bulstrode showed up.

By the next morning, her sorry and tattered looking possessions were packed up and she was sitting, looking quite miserable, on the train. Camille Nott poked her head into the compartment to say good bye, and with a wide sneer she said, "I'll be looking forward to next year." With that, she skipped up the aisle to join Parkinson in a different compartment. It was then that a thought occurred to Cosette: next school year, she had to come back. She did not know which she preferred at this point, Hogwarts or the Dursleys. Her life at the Dursleys was miserable, but at least her brother was there for her, life was only so much better at Hogwarts without the emotional support she had relied on her twin to provide for so long. She watched curiously as her brother talked with Hagrid, and felt a small pang of guilt for not saying goodbye to the giant of a man. Harry had made so many friends this past year, she thought sadly. I didn't make any, everyone hates me. She turned away from Harry and saw people looking into the compartment, disgust visibly showing at the thought of sharing a compartment with an un-bathed Cosette.

Harry was managing differently, his mind was still a buzz with guilty thoughts of Quirrell and Voldemort, and the depressing fact that he was going back to the Dursleys. Although this summer could prove to be an interesting one as Ron had insisted that he come over during the summer. Harry promised he would, though he was not sure how he was going to fulfill this promise. He was about to get on the train when Hagrid called him over. Nearly slapping himself for forgetting Hagrid, he ran over. Hagrid gave a weak smile.

"I'm sorry… it was my fault," Hagrid sniffed. He looked ready to burst into heavy tears, Harry hoped he wouldn't. "All for a stupid dragon egg, I'll never drink again…"

Harry then understood what Hagrid meant.

"It's fine Hagrid, he probably would have found out anyway, this is Voldemort we're talking about."

Hagrid did not respond to the name as he usually would.

"I got somethin' fer yeh," Hagrid said pulling a shiny leather book from one of his many pockets.

Harry accepted the book and opened it, gasping at what he saw. It was a wizard's photo album of his parents.

"Was sendin' owls nonstop to all yer parents school friends to put that there together," Hagrid said. "I hope you and yer sister like it."

Harry felt his eyes involuntarily mist as he looked at his mother and father's smiling faces. He closed the book and hugged Hagrid, as much as he could at least. Hagrid awkwardly patted Harry on the back.

"Yeh best be gettin' on the train now, before it leaves. Tell yer sister goodbye fer me," Hagrid said and Harry pulled away. Pulling his trunk with him, he gave one last look at the waving Hagrid before joining his friends on the train.

He sat with them in a compartment, noting that his sister wasn't among them. He half wondered where she was. He spent the rest of the train ride in relative silence, still weighed down by remorse and shame while Ron was adamantly going over plans on how Harry could possibly visit him over summer break. He didn't tell his friends what exactly happened with Quirrell, and so they didn't know why he was so gloomy other than the idea of returning to the Dursleys. He was suddenly very glad his sister wasn't in the compartment. He didn't think he could ever look her in the eyes and tell her that he had killed a professor, no matter what Dumbledore said about it. What would she think of him then? Hammered with loathing, Harry sunk his head. When the trained pulled into King's Cross station, the first thing he was greeted to as he stepped off the train was a loud, high pitched girl's voice.

"There he is, mum! Do you see him? It's Harry Potter!"

Mrs. Weasley pulled the girl behind her.

"Hush, Ginny, it's rude to point!"

Ron and his brothers walked up to their family, where Mrs. Weasley welcomed them all with big hugs and kisses.

"Well, I guess this is it," Harry said as he looked over at Hermione. She smiled and threw her arms around him.

"I'll write you this summer, okay?" she said as she pulled away. Harry nodded.

"Take care." With one final smile, Hermione rushed off to her parents, dressed in standard muggle clothes. They welcomed her with open arms. Harry turned just then back to the train to see his sister awkwardly shuffle out of the train, her trunk crashing forward. Someone behind her snickered.

Walking towards the Weasleys, he smiled up at Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you for the fudge and sweater, Ma'am," Harry said kindly.

Molly Weasley brightened up at the small boy.

"Oh, it was nothing dear," her eyes lit up as she looked him over, yet when her eyes traveled towards somewhere behind him, her smile dropped somewhat in concern. Harry followed her gaze and noticed the scruffy form of his sister, gawkily standing there away from them, as if she didn't belong, staring at them from a distance.

"Come on you two, we haven't got all day!"

Cosette visibly jumped and flinched at the voice. Turning, Harry spotted the stout angry visage of Uncle Vernon. It seemed some things never changed.

"I'll see you later then, Ron," Harry murmured.

Ron shook his head.

"Erm…have a good summer, Harry."

With that, Harry looked at his sister, who had a small lead on him and was walking hesitantly towards Uncle Vernon, who was busy grumbling something to Cosette, making her head sink farther and farther.

"Oh, I will," Harry mumbled to Ron. "After all, I may not be able to cast magic outside of school…but Dudley doesn't know that…"

AN: We would like to thank every one of you who have read our story. We have received many nice and encouraging reviews, and are happy that you have all enjoyed our story; though I have to warn you to prepare yourselves for this next bit of information. The second book is not yet complete; we will not be posting anymore chapters until it is. On that note, you can check our profile for updates on when we will be posting again, but I assure you that it will be finished no later than April. Again, thank you to our supporters we hope to hear from you again when the second book is up!