Nothing Is What It Seems
Nothing was a game at that moment. It was not another trial, nor a race through riddles. In front of him stood the same man from the forest, and the memory was still too fresh to allow any hesitation.
"Harry!" Percy shouted before gripping his heavy sword with both hands, lowering his body into a firm, grounded stance. He lunged forward at once toward Quirrell, unwilling to give the wizard even a second to recover from the pain.
The moment he started running, eight other Percys burst forth from his own body, like perfectly identical mirages. All of them advanced at the same time. Behind them, Harry remained still, holding his magical tome in one hand and his wand in the other, his concentration absolute.
Quirrell smiled vainly, a false smile steeped in hatred, as he raised his wand and observed the exact copies. His eyes darted rapidly between them, trying to determine which one was real. Even so, he did not seem particularly concerned when he cast his spell with a malicious grin.
"Diffindo!" he shouted, flicking his wand.
A massive blade of air shot toward the Percy in the center and the two at his sides. The spell passed straight through the illusions without resistance and continued onward. Quirrell smiled, somewhat triumphant, as if this had been the plan all along, while he watched the remaining copies of Percy, waiting for some reaction from the real one. None of them stopped or turned back.
Then he saw the spell pass through Harry as well, in the same way it had gone through Percy's illusions. Just before fading away, Harry's figure smiled mockingly.
For the first time, Quirrell's smile tightened. That instant was enough to make him hesitate. His wand paused, just barely, but it was enough.
Four Percys were already surrounding him, swinging their swords in slashes aimed at different points of his body, sealing off every possible escape.
Two targeted his neck from either side. The other two aimed for his waist.
Quirrell grew completely frantic and whipped his wand up in panic.
"Arresto Momentum!" he shouted at once.
The blades froze mere inches from reaching him, creeping forward slowly. He was ready to cast another spell, but the impact came first.
A powerful blow struck his stomach, forcing him to double over. In front of him, a silhouette began to take shape as a sword swept through the air in a horizontal cut aimed straight at his neck.
It was Percy.
In a sharp, reflexive movement, Quirrell raised his wand toward his own chest. The spell struck him instead, blasting him backward. Percy's blade passed within inches of his throat as he frowned, a faintly confused expression crossing his face.
Quirrell hit the ground and rolled before scrambling back to his feet, clutching his chest where his own spell had struck him.
Percy watched him, confused, even halting his attacks. There was doubt there, and irritation.
"Why are you so weak?" he asked suddenly.
That strange feeling, the sense that he was not fighting the same man from the forest, was genuinely unsettling him.
The spells were different. Everything was different. It was as if Quirrell was not even skilled in combat, as if he had never fought in his life.
"What?" Quirrell snarled, teeth clenched in fury.
"No, I do not mean weak as in pathetic. Though you are, we are literally kicking your ass," Percy continued without any filter. "What I mean is… why are you weaker now than you were in the forest?"
The insult, as always, only fueled his enemy's rage.
"You…" Quirrell hissed, his teeth grinding as his jaw tightened. "Damned brat. You really think you are powerful just because of those strange swords you wield, do you? When I am done with you, I will use them to destroy everyone you care about…"
Before he could finish the sentence, Percy, who had been several meters away, vanished as if dissolving into mist.
Quirrell sensed the danger instantly. He raised his wand to the side and conjured a magical shield just in time.
Something slammed into it and was stopped by the barrier. Quirrell smiled faintly, but only for an instant.
An ice arrow was lodged firmly against the shield.
He looked up and saw Harry there, staring at him with a cold, serious expression. As if understanding something in that very second, Quirrell reacted quickly and tried to turn around.
Too late.
A slash tore across his back.
Percy stood there, his face tense, just as cold.
Both boys were visibly angered by what the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been about to say.
"Aaaah!" Quirrell screamed in pain before raising his wand and shouting, "Incendio!" in a desperate attempt to drive Percy and Harry back.
A circular explosion expanded outward from him. Both boys retreated swiftly.
"Damn you! Damn you!" Quirrell shouted, completely cornered.
"Enough!" that voice rang out once more.
Percy and Harry frowned and stepped back slightly, staring at Quirrell's turban, where the sound had come from. Every time that voice spoke, Harry felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his forehead and instinctively brought a hand to his scar.
Percy noticed and cast a quick glance at his brother. Harry returned the look, as if trying to tell him he was fine.
Percy tightened his grip on his sword, but did not advance again. Something strange was happening.
"Yes, sir… yes… please," Quirrell muttered to himself as a dark murmur spread throughout the chamber, emanating from beneath his turban.
Without waiting any longer, he began tearing it off with clumsy, frantic movements, as if acting under a direct command.
At last, they saw what had been hidden beneath.
It was a deformed, horrific face, like a grotesque tumor, with a mouth and eyes but no nose. It was repulsive… and somehow, disturbingly absurd.
Percy shook his head to regain focus as he stared at the face fused to Quirrell's skull. Then he looked at his brother, who was still clutching his forehead in visible pain.
"Harry Potter," the voice said again, now finally understanding where it was coming from.
…
Harry stared at the being on the back of Quirrell's head as an unbearable pain threatened to drill straight into his brain. Even so, he endured it through sheer willpower, never breaking eye contact with that figure, his grip on his wand tightening.
"We meet again," the voice said darkly, watching him closely.
"Voldemort," Harry spoke the name with a steady gaze, as if there were no doubt left about who he was facing.
"Ridiculous, isn't it? Standing face to face once more. Though you may not remember it, because of you I can only survive by parasitizing others. Unicorn blood is what keeps me alive, until I obtain the Stone," Voldemort said, never taking his eyes off him.
For a moment, Harry felt an inner hatred surge, threatening to burst out and make him scream in rage. Still, he forced his mind to remain calm, just as his cousin Dred had taught them so many times. Though, to be fair, mostly Percy. Or at least, he had tried.
"I need the Stone, boy. The moment you looked into the mirror, you obtained it, didn't you?" Voldemort said, a dark smile twisting his face as he locked eyes with him.
Harry did not look away, even as the pain in his scar seemed to intensify. At the same time, he lightly touched the right pocket of his robes. Voldemort was right. There was something there that had not been before. Something that had appeared the very moment he had seen Quirrell standing before the mirror.
Meanwhile, Percy moved quietly, taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention to him. He made a quick hand gesture toward Harry. Harry understood instantly and, without Voldemort noticing, shifted one of the fingers holding his magical tome. Percy's body vanished.
"Now give it to me!" Voldemort ordered.
"Screw you!" Harry shouted as he snapped his book open with a sharp motion of his hand.
Crack.
Quirrell's right arm, the one holding the wand, twisted at an unnatural angle, accompanied by a horrifying scream. Voldemort did not seem to care in the slightest. The wand rose, aimed at Harry, and a green spell shot toward him.
It passed straight through him.
That version of Harry dissolved, revealing it had only been an illusion.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Several of Quirrell's bones shattered one after another as he screamed in agony, his body arching backward. Voldemort was taking full control.
"Interesting magic, but not powerful," Voldemort shouted as he flicked his wand, launching explosions in every direction with simple movements. The difference between him and Quirrell was now obvious; he did not even need to speak incantations.
Harry reappeared amid an explosion, rolling to the side to avoid the blast. He had barely lifted his head when a black spell streaked toward him.
"Protego!" Harry shouted, raising his wand.
A shield formed in front of him, taking the impact head-on and shattering like glass.
At that moment, something like a black whip shot out from the tip of Voldemort's wand, wrapping around Harry and trapping him instantly.
"You still have a long way to go, boy," Voldemort said with contempt, raising his hand as if to cast another spell.
Before he could, a sharp whistle cut through the air.
A silver flash sliced clean through Voldemort's wrist. His hand hit the floor.
"Aaah!" Quirrell screamed, now from the back of Voldemort's head, feeling the pain.
Voldemort looked down at his wrist for a moment, expressionless, before lifting his gaze toward Percy, who had reappeared just in time to swing a direct cut toward his waist.
Voldemort reacted instantly, pointing his wand at Percy. A torrent of fire erupted toward him.
"Ice wall!" Harry shouted from where he stood.
A wall of ice formed instantly in front of them, stopping Percy's advance and causing Voldemort's flames to explode into a massive cloud of steam upon impact.
That only seemed to amuse Voldemort further. With a simple flick of his wand, the hand lying on the floor flew back into place. Black stitches spread across it, sealing it as if it had never been severed.
"I want those things more and more. Special magic, strange swords, things I have never seen before," Voldemort said calmly.
Percy regrouped with Harry, stepping in front of him, sword held in both hands, ready.
"Sorry, but this sword was a gift from my Aunt Mor. And she would be very upset if I lost it. And trust me, you do not want to see her angry," Percy said.
"Well, my magical tome was also a gift from Aunt Mor," Harry added.
Voldemort regarded them with mild irritation, clearly annoyed at having to deal with children.
"Let's finish this quickly, before the Hogwarts professors arrive," he said, making it clear that he was in a hurry.
"Percy, I'll use that," Harry said quickly.
"Fine," Percy replied with a nod. "But I am not carrying you afterward," he added.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted, for the first time.
A green flash shot toward Percy.
Percy rolled across the floor, narrowly dodging the spell, then sprinted straight at Voldemort at full speed, sword in hand. Meanwhile, Harry remained where he was, eyes half closed, murmuring what sounded like a long and complex spell.
Voldemort cast Percy a look of pure disdain. He flicked his wand slightly, and a massive fireball formed almost instantly before launching straight at him.
Percy did not dodge.
He stopped for just a second, raised his sword over his head, and brought it down in a powerful vertical strike, splitting the fireball clean in two. But at the exact moment it parted, another spell burst forth from inside it and slammed into Percy's chest.
The impact sent him flying, his sword slipping from his grip as his body was hurled backward through the air.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort shouted again.
The green curse shot forward at terrifying speed, aimed directly at Percy's chest while he was still airborne, with no way to evade. The killing curse struck him before he could react.
But Percy did not show fear. As he watched the spell approach, he even gave Voldemort a mocking smile.
Voldemort's manic grin vanished instantly, replaced by a serious expression as he saw the green spell pass straight through Percy's body… and Percy simply vanished.
Immediately, Voldemort snapped his gaze toward Harry.
Harry was looking at him with a victorious smile.
And then, he too dissolved into mist.
An instant later, Voldemort felt something pierce through his back. A sharp pain forced a choked scream from his throat, just like Quirrell. Then came another stab, straight into his chest. His heart.
Both Quirrell and Voldemort spat thick, black blood.
Two figures began to materialize from the mist, one behind him and one in front.
Percy appeared at his back, sword buried deep.
Harry appeared in front, driving a red dagger into Voldemort's chest. The blade held a small gem embedded in it, glowing as if fire were trapped inside.
"I tricked you," Harry said with a smile.
"W… when…?" Voldemort managed to ask, his voice filled with both shock and hatred.
"Why would I—?"
"It was an illusion from the very beginning…" Percy cut in, then stopped himself and glanced at Harry. "Oh. We weren't supposed to say that?" he added after receiving a sharp look from his brother.
Harry let out a light snort and waved his hand, watching as the bodies of Quirrell and Voldemort began to slowly crumble into dust.
"Aaah!" Quirrell screamed as he felt his body disintegrate, collapsing into ash.
Harry dropped into a seated position on the floor, completely exhausted. He had truly used far too much magic.
Percy sat down beside him as well, wearing a victorious grin, and raised his hand toward his brother. Harry looked at him for a moment before high-fiving him.
"We did it. And you, my dear little brother… It was hard staying hidden for that long," Percy said before letting himself fall flat onto his back, utterly drained, both physically and mentally.
"You did well," Harry replied with a small smile. "But you're the little brother," he added.
"Right. Do you have the Philosopher's Stone?" Percy asked, suddenly sitting up and looking at Harry with interest.
Harry smiled faintly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a completely red stone that glowed softly.
"Doesn't look as cool as I imagined," Percy said, staring at what seemed like nothing more than a shiny red rock.
"Well, that's because—" Harry began.
He did not get to finish.
Both of them suddenly turned as a spectral shape rose from the ashes and lunged straight toward Harry. Percy raised his sword and tried to cut it down, but the blade passed through it without effect. The specter instantly reformed and surged forward, passing straight through Harry's chest.
Before it could even touch him, the necklaces worn by Percy and Harry erupted in an intense violet light, trapping the entity.
"Graaaa!" the creature screamed before a violent force dragged it downward.
Both necklaces crumbled into dust, leaving behind the unmistakable weight of something that was no longer there.
"What the hell was that?" Percy asked.
Harry was just as confused. He shook his head, unable to understand, as he reached for the place where the pendant had once hung.
"Let's get out of here," Harry said urgently, urging his brother forward.
Percy nodded, and they quickly left the chamber.
Before exiting, Harry cast a brief glance at the Mirror of Erised. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a woman with black hair, strikingly beautiful, completely shrouded in mist. She smiled at him and gave him a gentle wink before fading away. Harry was not sure if he had really seen her.
"So, do you want me to carry you after all?" Percy asked in a teasing tone.
"Of course not," Harry replied instantly, quickening his pace to catch up with his brother. Though for a moment, he seemed to sway slightly from exhaustion, Percy did not miss the chance to mock him.
And then, the two of them left the room.