22: Confrontation

[3rd Pov]

As Quirrel's voice raised, the walls of the chamber trembled.

"Funny thing, wizards," he said, as his back slouched over, and he adopts a weak and frail posture. "Who would suspect p-p-poor s-s-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel?"

He then turns to observe the mirror. "Now, if you would be so kind, don't move while I study this mirror," His head turns a bit, as he looks especially at Alaric.

Hope moved, as she stood in front of her brother, her wand still fixated on the man.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame.

Alaric's mind was a muddled mix of anger and confusion. He knew that somehow, Quirrel and Voldemort were connected. With a furrowed brow, Alaric scrutinized the man's back, his gaze settling on the turban with suspicion.

"Your turban..." Alaric muttered, loud enough for the professor to hear.

Quirrel turned around to look at the boy, as he clutched the sides of his turban.

"Take out your turban,"

Quirrel trembled slightly at the icy tone Alaric used. The boy was undeniably powerful - the curse he had unleashed in the forest had nearly crippled Quirrel's arm, even though it had barely connected. Although he knew he wasn't as formidable as the professors... yet. Quirrel was keenly aware of his own vulnerability in his current weakened state, thanks to his master's influence. He knew he couldn't take on the silver-haired boy.

"Let me speak to the boy," a hoarse voice sounded from the back of Quirrel's head, as the man's face paled.

"M-Master, you're not strong enough!" he muttered.

"I have strength enough ... for this ..."

Quirrell reached up and began to unravel the turban, causing it to slowly fall away. Without it, his head looked oddly small. Then, he turned around slowly on the spot, revealing the shocking truth.

Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been, there was instead a face - chalk white with piercing red eyes and slits for nostrils, resembling that of a snake.

"Voldemort," Alaric muttered, his expression blank, as he used Occlumency to keep his emotions at bay.

"Alaric Grindel-" As the parasite behind Quirrel's head tried to speak, a dark, shadowy-looking curse left the tip of the boy's wand.

Voldemort observed as the curse inched closer and closer toward him. With a swift motion, he opened his mouth and let out an ear-piercing scream. The sheer force of his magic sent the curse hurtling off course, ultimately causing it to collide with the stone ceiling.

"How intriguing," the disfigured face wickedly smiled. "Such magic at your age... You'd make a fine death eater,"

Quirrel walked backward, as to have his master's face approach the silver-haired boy.

"Kill them," Voldemort said, gazing at the Potter twins. Hope was trembling, her face haggard. She could barely hold her wand, while her brother grunted in pain behind her.

"Kill them, and join me. Or else... end up like your father," he hissed.

Hearing the Dark Lord's taunt, Alaric's Occlumency snapped. His face turned into a deranged scowl, as he sent a wave of white fiery-looking magic to the double-faced body.

This time, Quirrel quickly waved his wand, and a strong protection charm covered him.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face, as Quirrel turns around again. "Better save your own life and join me than end up a lifeless husk. A cripple!"

Out of nowhere, a disarming spell was hurled at Quirrel. With ease, the man deflected it before shooting an angry glare at the attacker. Hope held her wand steady, her aim fixed on Quirrel. Undeterred, she sent another Expelliarmus toward him, only for it to be effortlessly blocked by Quirrel.

"Kill her!" screamed Voldemort.

"AVADA KEDA-" As Quirrel tried to cast the killing curse, a lightning bolt hit him from the side.

Alaric had used the moment of distraction from the professor to shoot at him a lighting curse.

The two-faced man fell to the ground twitching, the distorted face of Voldemort demanding him to get up. Alaric however, didn't stop there, as lighting after lighting left his wand, continuously hitting the fallen Quirrelmort.

The man convulsed as the electric current coursed through his body, his muscles contracting and spasming in uncontrollable waves. He could feel the heat of the lightning, the intense pain radiating from every nerve ending as the electricity tore through him.

Another bolt struck, and then another, each one hammering into the man with a force that felt like a sledgehammer blow. He cried out, but his screams were lost in the thunderous roar of the spells.

And yet, even as he teetered on the brink of oblivion, the lightning continued to strike, each bolt more ferocious than the last.

Alaric was as if the storm come to life, and it was determined to destroy Quirrel and Voldemort utterly.

The boy seethed with pure hatred and contempt as he stared at the pallid face of the man writhing in pain on the ground, his grunts growing weaker with each passing moment.

Unaware of the presence of a girl who had just entered the chamber calling for him, the boy remained transfixed on the scene before him. Suddenly, a shadow burst forth from Quirrell's body, causing the man's form to disintegrate into a cloud of dust. The shadowy figure darted towards the exit, passing through Alaric.

Despite Alaric's desperate attempt to defend himself with a protection charm, the figure effortlessly bypassed it, sending him against the wall, and leaving the boy sprawled on the ground, drained of all energy.

As his eyelids drooped and he slipped into unconsciousness, the boy was left with the chilling realization that he had just witnessed a display of power far beyond anything he had ever imagined.

_________

[Harry Potter POV]

My body felt weightless, free of any constraints of physical or mental exertion. I felt as if I'd entered a deep, dreamless sleep, disconnected from the external world and unaware of anything happening around it.

Soon, I started to wake up. My eyelids fluttered open, and my vision slowly started to regain focus. I was in the infirmary. Sitting near my bed was my sister, one of those weird Lockhart novels in her hand.

"Hope..." I muttered, still feeling sluggish from having just woken up.

My sister looked at me with a relieved expression. She closed her book, before enveloping me in a hug. "Thank Merlin you're alright,"

My memories of the events were still foggy. I remember writhing in pain on the ground, my scar burning. I remember seeing dozens of... lightning bolts?

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think," I said, adjusting to a more comfortable position on the bed. "What happened?"

Hope looked a bit distraught, as she gazed at a bed near us, the privacy covers blocking any view.

"For starters, Ron and Hermione are alright. Lysandra arrived on time and healed him," she said, much to my relief. I wouldn't know what to do if something happened to them...

"What about Quirrel? And the Stone?!" I hurriedly asked. My sister's gaze went again to the covered bed.

"It -"

The sound of the doors being opened interrupted Hope.

Dumbledore greeted me as he opened the doors to the hospital wing, sporting his characteristic grandfatherly smile. "Good afternoon, Harry," he said. "Your parents are on their way. How do you feel, my boy?"

"I've been better," I quipped before turning his attention to the matter at hand. "But headmaster, what about the sto-"

Dumbledore cut me off, his voice tranquil. "Professor Quirrell did not manage to take the Stone from you. I arrived just in time to take you three to Madam Pomfrey," he explained, stroking his beard.

"Three?" I asked, confused. "But Professor, there was only me and my sister in the chamber..."

"Who do you think saved you from Voldemort," Dumbledore chuckled, rising from his chair and walking towards the other bed.

As he approached, Lysandra appeared from behind the privacy screen, her hair disheveled and her eyes red from tears. "How is he?" Dumbledore asked, his usual calm tone replaced by one of somber concern.

Lysandra tried to wipe away her tears before slowly opening the screen to reveal Alaric lying in the bed behind her.

__________

[3rd Pov]

The last day of the school year at Hogwarts was filled with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. As the students made their way through the castle, the halls were alive with the sounds of laughter and chatter. Some were excitedly discussing their summer plans, while others were already lamenting the fact that they would be leaving their friends and home behind.

In the Great Hall, the tables were set with a feast fit for a king. The students enjoyed a final meal together, with plates piled high with roast chicken, buttery potatoes, and fresh vegetables. Desserts of all kinds lined the tables, and the students indulged in their favorite treats, savoring each bite as if it were their last.

After the meal, the students made their way to the courtyard, where they gathered in small groups to say their goodbyes. Some exchanged addresses and promises to write, while others hugged tightly, not wanting to let go.

In the midst of this, a group of four Slytherins were making their way to the hospital wing. All of them looked gloomy, as they silently walked together.

Upon reaching their destination, Madam Pomfrey allowed them to enter the room.

Inside, Alaric was awake, although still on the bed. Sitting near him, was his sister Lysandra, and a tall mature woman, with the same silver locks as the boy.

Alaric, noticing Blaise, Theodore, Daphne, and Tracey entering the room, beamed a smile. A weak one, but a smile nonetheless.

"Mother," he said, "Meet my friends,"

Isadora turned around, before narrowing her eyes at the kids. After some time, a happy grin appeared on her face.

"And here I thought that my little Alaric would never make friends," she said, as she cleaned her non-existent tears.

Isadora engaged in conversation with the children, mostly asking them about Alaric's school days. The boy squirmed with embarrassment as she pressed for details, but any attempts to complain were quickly squashed by a single, sharp look from his mother. Despite Alaric's stature as a prodigious wizard, in his mother's eyes, he was still just a little boy.

Soon, Isadora left, leaving the kids to their devices. Alaric had just been discharged by Madam Pomfrey, not before receiving a lecture by the healing matron on how his actions were dangerous.

The woman cared about the students, she just didn't know how to show it properly.

Each with their suitcase in hand, the Grindelwald twins walked with the rest, in the direction of the Hogsmeade station. On the way, most of the looks Alaric received were of admiration and doubt.

The former was normal, but the latter, not so much.

"Do I have something on my face?" he asked, as he looked at his sister.

Lysandra rolled her eyes, before sighing. "You know how this school works. If it's a secret, then everyone knows about it. Most students heard about your confrontation with Quirrel,"

Blaise, who was hearing the conversation, chided in. "You have no idea. Some say you courageously fought against him in a duel, while others think it was the Potter girl who stopped him from stealing the Philosopher's stone,"

Daphne snorted. "As if,"

"You know about the stone?" Alaric asked.

"As your sister said. If it's a secret, then everyone knows," Chuckled Tracey. "What matters is that most people now see you in a new light. A good one. Isn't that what you wanted?" she added while looking at the silver-haired boy.

"Not exactly," Alaric responded, "But it's a step in the right direction,"

"And the most important of all," said Blaise grinning, while putting his arm around Alaric's neck. "You're more popular with the girls now,"

Daphne snorted again, while the other two girls rolled their eyes back. Theodore, hearing what Blaise said, shivered a little, remembering what he saw earlier in the Great Hall.

"What's wrong?" asked Lysandra, seeing the pale face of the lanky boy.

"It's j-just," he said, stuttering. "I happened to see s-something some of t-t-the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw girls were reading - I think it was L-Lavender Brown that wrote it..."

Lysandra, hearing that accursed name, immediately stopped the boy from continuing.

'Everything that comes from that girl should be burned with Fiendfyre' she thought, shivering in sync with Theodore.

**********

A/N: Can you guess what Lavender wrote?

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

ps: Also, if you see any grammatical mistakes, please point them out. It helps me write better, and you get a better story.