"Expelliarmus!"
Three jets of red light shot from the tips of their wands, striking Quirrell with pinpoint accuracy.
His right hand involuntarily released Harry, and he stared in shock at the three young wizards emerging from the other side of the black flames.
Both Quirrell and the reflection of Voldemort in the mirror twisted their expressions into something sinister and ferocious.
"This ends tonight, Voldemort," Edward said calmly, his wand carefully aimed at Quirrell.
Though Daphne and Malfoy's wands trembled slightly, they too pointed at the terrifying two-faced figure before them.
"Edward Bedivere, you again," Voldemort spat venomously, his earlier confidence when dealing with Harry now gone. "You've been a thorn in my side all year."
"Knights of the Round Table are the most meddlesome, troublesome lot in the world."
"Your parents caused me plenty of trouble back in the day!"
"Well, well, I didn't come looking for you, but you've come to me. This will be your grave—and Harry Potter's too."
"As for you two," he suddenly turned to Daphne and Malfoy, "I know you. Lucius's son, right? You're practically carved from the same mold. And Greengrass."
"What nostalgic times," Voldemort's tone grew wistful. "Haven't your parents told you? We held all the power, making the wizarding world tremble. Mudbloods and filthy Muggles cowered at our feet!"
"Help me get the Philosopher's Stone and kill that boy beside you! Once I've restored my body, you'll be rewarded by Lord Voldemort!" he said cruelly. "Refuse, and you and your families will face a fate worse than death!"
His voice was hoarse and terrifying, filling Daphne and Malfoy with paralyzing fear, unable to take even a single step forward.
"Don't listen to him, Daphne, Draco," Edward said firmly.
"You're not hurting anyone tonight. Dumbledore and the other professors are on their way," Edward stepped forward, fury blazing in his eyes. "Take Harry and the Stone and go. I'll buy you enough time!"
His courage bolstered the two beside him, snapping them out of their fear. They immediately rushed to Harry, who lay sprawled on the ground.
"Stop them! Kill them!" Voldemort roared suddenly.
Quirrell lunged forward, faster than Daphne or Malfoy, but a figure blocked his path.
It was Edward.
Spells burst from his wand in rapid succession, but Quirrell showed no sign of slowing. Some curses bounced off him, while others tore through his robes, revealing pitch-black armor underneath.
It was the same armor Edward had seen before, identical to that worn by the "Black Knights" who attacked them.
Now Edward understood why Quirrell had emerged unscathed after being hit by dragon's breath. This enchanted armor didn't just deflect spells—it could withstand and even absorb attacks.
But if that was true, what spell had those attackers used to reduce this armor to mere fragments? Did it have a limit to how much damage it could take?
Edward's mind raced as he recalled striking a Black Knight in similar armor with all his strength, only to push them back without causing serious harm.
What now? Could he hold out until Dumbledore arrived?
Though he was strategizing, Quirrell clearly had no intention of giving him time to think.
Casting wandlessly until now, Quirrell drew his wand and aimed at Daphne and Malfoy, who were dragging Harry toward the stairs.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light surged with immense magical energy, making Edward's hair stand on end.
The Killing Curse struck a nearby pillar, narrowly missing the trio.
Their duel sent spells ricocheting around the room. Daphne and Malfoy, clutching Harry, hid behind a pillar, casting Protego to shield themselves, with no chance to escape.
If not for the Felix Felicis, they might already be dead.
Edward felt himself being overpowered by Quirrell, whose combat experience surpassed his own. The armor didn't just protect—it seemed to amplify Quirrell's magic.
He needed a plan, or he wouldn't last until the professors arrived.
Suddenly, a strange sensation drew his gaze to the nearby Mirror of Erised.
He hadn't seen the mirror since stumbling into its illusory realm before Christmas. Dumbledore must have hidden the Philosopher's Stone inside, and Harry had managed to retrieve it.
But what about now? Could the mirror still lead to that realm?
If he could drag Quirrell and Voldemort into contact with the mirror, would they all be pulled inside?
If they were, at least Daphne, Draco, and Harry would be safe!
Edward made his decision.
His sword shimmered and transformed into a shield large enough to protect his front.
Channeling his inner strength, Edward charged at Quirrell like a spell unleashed.
Though armored, Quirrell hadn't expected Edward to rush toward him instead of seeking cover.
"Get away from him! Get away!" Voldemort shrieked from the back of Quirrell's head, as if he sensed Edward's plan.
But it was too late.
Edward slammed into Quirrell, wrapping his arms around him and hurling them both toward the Mirror of Erised.
Instead of the sound of shattering glass, they plunged into the mirror as if diving into a pool, vanishing from the room instantly.
Silence fell, broken only by the flickering flames of the torches. The battle had left only rubble and dust behind.
Daphne and Malfoy stared in shock at where Edward and Quirrell had disappeared into the mirror, as if the fight had been a dream.
"Where's Edward gone?" Malfoy asked, dazed.
"He's gone back into the mirror—the illusory realm! He's trying to deal with Quirrell there!" Daphne quickly levitated the unconscious Harry with her wand and rushed toward the door.
Why weren't the other professors here yet?
But as she reached the steps, the black flames extinguished with a gust of wind.
A tall, thin figure strode in, wand raised, sharp eyes scanning the room for his target.
Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and others followed Dumbledore, wands at the ready, tense and alert. "Oh, my dear children, you're safe!" Dumbledore exclaimed, spotting the three young wizards.
"Just the three of you? Where's Bedivere?" Snape demanded, his face stern.
"He tackled Quirrell into the mirror!" Daphne answered quickly.
Edward, you idiot! If we'd just held on a little longer, the professors would've been here!
She kept thinking it over and over.
"Minerva, Filius, please take these three to the hospital wing. They've been through enough tonight. Severus, stay with me," Dumbledore instructed swiftly.
He approached the mirror, wand carefully aimed.
"You didn't find a way into that mirror last time—you just hid the Stone inside. Think you'll crack it now?" Snape asked skeptically.
"I may not know everything, Severus, but don't underestimate me," Dumbledore replied without turning. "That said, Mr. Bedivere's actions have given me an idea. It's time I returned the favor."
Dumbledore began chanting an ancient, complex spell, his voice low and resonant, echoing eerily in the small room.
A faint light glowed from his wand, illuminating the mirror that reflected the heart's desires, causing its surface to blur.
"Come along, you brave children," McGonagall said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Don't worry—Professor Dumbledore will save Edward!"
Daphne and Malfoy glanced back at the mirror, hearts heavy, as they followed McGonagall and Flitwick out of the room.
Edward felt himself falling, but it was different from his last trip through the mirror. This time, it was like plummeting from the sky, with Quirrell in his grasp.
"You damned knights!" Quirrell shouted, trying to cast spells, but Edward held his wand arm tightly, preventing him from aiming.
Seizing the moment, Edward landed two solid punches to Quirrell's face.
Before he could throw a third, they hit the ground with a thud, rolling apart.
To Edward's surprise, neither of them was injured.
"Crucio!"
Before he could catch his breath, Quirrell's Unforgivable Curse came at him. Edward blocked it with his sword.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Another green flash, but Edward deftly deflected it with his blade.
"Come out! You call yourself a wizard?!" Voldemort bellowed from the back of Quirrell's head.
He was utterly enraged.
Time and again, it wasn't Harry Potter, that coward hiding behind his mother, who thwarted him—it was this meddling eleven-year-old Bedivere!
The Philosopher's Stone, within his grasp, was gone!
"Kill him!" Voldemort commanded.
At his master's order, Quirrell flicked his wand, and Edward's shield flew out of his hand.
But Edward moved too.
Instead of fleeing into the surrounding mist, he charged straight at Quirrell.
"Come on! I'm right here!" he shouted as he ran.