"Blake? And Greengrass too?"
"What're-"
"Listen guys, there's no time to explain - we saw Weasley in the room before, Greengrass had a potion, so he'll be fine. Have you guys figured out this one?"
Blake realised Greengrass had been right - due to his presence, Harry and Hermione were quick to trust them both, and they quickly deciphered the logic puzzle together. Between the riddle, the potions, and the fires at either end, it wasn't hard.
"There's only one," Hermione stated.
"I'll duplicate it," Blake instantly said, remembering what he'd learnt in a textbook.
"The duplicate will be unstable," Greengrass warned him. "Don't do it."
"I'm not letting Harry face him alone, and besides, you'll have to too," he replied.
"Him? You know about Snape?"
"It's not Snape, Potter. It's Quirrell."
"Quirrell? That can't-"
"Trust us, Hermione. It's Quirrell - and if we're right, it could be someone else far worse too."
Harry's eyes widened in realisation.
"You mean V-"
"Yes, but we need to hurry. The more duplications, the more unstable and unreliable the potion gets. Greengrass, you go back with Hermione-"
"But-"
"Most of the rooms so far reset after each new challenger comes - this room's likely to be the same considering they had to do it too. After you leave, come back after you're sure the room's reset. Hermione, you need to warn Dumbledore."
"But what about-"
"There's no time," Harry said urgently. "Please, Hermione!"
The Gryffindor girl seemed to battle with herself for a moment, before quickly hugging both of them.
"Be safe!"
Blake quickly duplicated the potion, as did Greengrass, and both girls drank the potion at the same time. Hermione quickly left, and Greengass followed suit - but just before she left, she turned around looking at Blake one last time, almost as if she was concerned.
Blake gave her his best cocky smirk.
"Don't tell me you're getting soft, Greengrass. How un-Slytherin of you!"
With that, Greengrass quickly turned and disappeared into the purple flames, but not before Blake could've sworn he saw her smile.
"Are you sure it's Quirrell?" Harry said anxiously.
"100%," Blake replied. "I don't have to tell you that he's ready to kill, do I?"
"I know."
"So you should be too, Harry," Blake told him firmly, ignoring the shocked look on Harry's face.
"Ready?"
"Ready," Harry replied, his face determined. Gryffindor.
The two boys downed their potions, and immediately ran headfirst into the black fire.
Once they cleared it, it was just as Blake expected.
The final challenge was Dumbledore's - the Mirror. And standing before it was Quirrell.
/
"Well, this is a surprise," Quirrell said, looking at Blake. Blake wasn't surprised to hear Quirrell's voice as no longer the timid, jumpy voice it had been before.
"Stupefy!" A jet of red light whizzed its way towards Quirrell, who looked surprised for a moment, before placing a shield up just in time.
"Oh? That's a rather advanced spell for your age, Renshaw."
"Give it up, Quirrell," Blake said, his wand raised as he moved around slightly. "Dumbledore knows you're here. He's on his way here right now."
Quirrell laughed a horrible laugh that didn't suit him at all, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry clutch his forehead in pain. Quirrell didn't cast a spell, did he? Then why- oh.
"You think he'll get here in time? The Anti-Apparating spells apply to him too, y'know." Quirrell snapped his fingers, and faster than Harry could realise, ropes appeared out of thin air and bound him. Blake, on the other hand, was ready for something like that.
"Protego!"
The ropes smashed against the shield, and Blake managed to stay free, and moved far away from them, casting a Disillusionment and Muffliato charm.
"Oh? How interesting," Quirrell drawled. "I suppose that's how you found me out then? Anyway, I don't care for you, Renshaw… my Master, however…"
I knew it!
Blake hid behind a pillar in the room. Voldemort wants the Stone. The Mirror's the final challenge - it shows you what you want. His eyes widened comically. So Dumbledore's modified it so that the Stone will actually appear if you want it? But then surely Quirrell would've already got it by now? Unless it's something to do with the real you want the Stone…
Blake peeked out from behind the pillar slightly. Quirrell was currently yapping to Harry, who was in a mix of confusion and rage at Quirrell's betrayal. Harry knows Voldemort's behind this, Blake thought, thinking back to Harry's earlier reaction, when Blake hinted at Voldemort being on Quirrell's side.
Still, no Stone manifested anywhere that Blake could tell - in the Mirror, nothing happened at all - that meant Dumbledore had changed how the Mirror worked. Damn it! Think. Why isn't it working? I don't want to use the Stone for anything evil! Oh - wait.
Realisation dawned on Blake.
Even if I don't want to use the Stone for anything bad, I agreed to get it for Greengrass - that's got to be why the Stone won't show itself to me. I have no bad intentions - it has to be because I technically want to use the Stone.So does Quirrell.
That means the only person that wants to use it is…
"The boy…"
Blake froze.
A voice that didn't belong to anyone in the room spoke. Blake looked on for the source of it, but it didn't make sense. The voice is coming from Quirrell, but it's not him.
As Quirrell released Harry's bindings and told him to stand in front of the mirror, horrible realisation dawned on Blake.
His turban. That smell. The whisper. Harry's scar. Voldemort.
For a moment, Blake was paralysed in fear.
I- I can't make myself move. That- that man… that monster…
Lord Voldemort had returned. Blake was finished. Quirrell clearly wasn't the weak man Blake thought he was either. Voldemort, from whatever was in that turban, was giving him power.
I'm just a kid. An 11 year old, muggleborn kid - against that!
As if by fate, Quirrell was unwrapping the turban. Blake was hazily aware that Harry had lied about what he saw in the mirror - he could see it plain on Harry's face, but that voice began to speak again. Harry looked around desperately, searching for something.
He's looking for me. He's wondering why I, his friend, am hiding, letting him face the monster that killed his parents alone.
Blake gritted his teeth, mustering up his courage, but he froze again.
"Harry Potter… see what I've become?"
That face…
Lord Voldemort's face couldn't be described as human. Chalk white, hairless like a baby yet rough, coarse skin like a weathered old man, missing a nose with only slits for nostrils, and the most vile, snake-like eyes.
But in that moment, fear left Blake.
All at once, images flowed through his mind. He imagined Connor facing that monster. He imagined Harry and Hermione doing their best to fight. He imagined Harry's parents the night they'd died, fighting to save their child. Professor McGonagall's family, Neville's parents, Mrs Weasley's brothers.
I don't know any Unforgivables yet.
So this is the best I can do.
Clarity like never before seized Blake, and he stepped out from behind his hiding place.
"You…" Voldemort snarled at Blake, but the boy refused to be shaken.
"Stupefy!" Blake yelled, and the familiar jet of red light rushed towards Voldemort's face. Quirrell was just barely able to dodge.
"I wanted to save you for last, you filthy mudblood! You, a mudblood, sorted into the Noble House of Salazar Slytherin?" Voldemort screamed. But his words had the opposite effect of what he'd been intending. Blake imagined his little brother facing this monster. Smiling, happy Connor facing whatever in Merlin's name this was. No. I'm not letting that happen.
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