Chapter 46 - Chapter 46: Ancient Magic Awakens

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Watching Hermione breeze through obstacles like she owned the place, Harry and Ron stood frozen.

"Hurry up. Stop dawdling." Hermione glanced back at the sluggish pair, impatient. "Old Voldy's waiting up ahead. Let's wrap this up so I can sleep. I'm tired."

She strode into the massive wizard's chessboard chamber, hopped onto a stone knight, and started calling moves.

In this game, extra players were a debuff.

Fortunately, she'd already seen how this played out.

"D5!"

"E6!"

"C3!"

"Checkmate!"

The enemy king shattered under a stone sword. The door ahead swung open.

Thank God. No potions logic puzzle. No thinking required.

After the lightning-fast chess match, both boys stared at Hermione like she was some kind of alien.

Harry snapped out of it, grabbed Ron, and started forward—

"Stupefy!"

A flash of light. Ron collapsed, unconscious.

Harry whirled on Hermione, horrified. "What are you doing?!"

"We're obviously about to fight. He's dead weight. I'm sending him back."

She levitated Ron's limp body and floated him back the way they came.

Harry stared after her, dumbfounded. Then realization hit.

Wait. I'm not much stronger than Ron. Why am I not in danger?!

And you're the strongest one here—why aren't YOU going in?!

Too late for regrets. Harry gritted his teeth and pressed forward.

At the end of the passage: a chamber.

In the center stood a massive mirror. The Mirror of Erised.

If the previous challenges were like unwrapping the Stone's packaging... this final obstacle was discovering the wrapping concealed an impenetrable vault.

Quirrell turned slowly.

Why was he standing there, motionless?

Simple. He was stuck.

"You!" Harry gasped.

He'd been so sure it was Snape. But it was Quirrell all along!

The cognitive dissonance hit hard.

Prejudice is a mountain, Hermione mused from her invisible perch by the door.

Quirrell, following villain protocol, began explaining his plan.

Then he forced Harry to retrieve the Stone.

Dumbledore had enchanted the Mirror: only someone who wanted to find the Stone—but not use it—could actually obtain it.

Harry's hand brushed the bulge in his pocket. To stall, he did the only thing he could think of:

Small talk.

Endless small talk.

After several awkward exchanges, Quirrell finally realized their conversation was accomplishing nothing.

The boy stonewalled him—either refusing to talk or spouting nonsense. Stalemate.

Seeing his subordinate's abysmal efficiency, Voldemort decided to intervene personally.

Quirrell turned around. Unwrapped his turban.

A second face emerged from the back of his skull.

The Wizarding World's nightmare. Pure-blood supremacist icon. Charming villain extraordinaire.

Voldemort made his entrance.

Harry locked eyes with him. His scar burned. He passed out cold.

Staring at the unconscious boy, a raspy voice emerged from Quirrell's skull.

"The Stone is in the child's pocket. Go. Take it."

The voice was hoarse. Nothing like Quirrell's.

Just as Quirrell reached forward, another voice rang from the doorway.

"Looking well-recovered, Professor Quirrell."

Hermione strolled in, grinning.

"You!"

Quirrell recognized her instantly.

The first-year who'd attacked him in the Forbidden Forest!

The Quidditch maniac!

If he hadn't drained enough unicorn blood—and if his Master hadn't stabilized him—he'd have died on the spot!

Hatred burned in his eyes.

"You're dead!" Quirrell raised his wand—

"Stand down, Quirinus!"

Voldemort's voice cut through. Quirrell trembled, face contorting in pain. Clearly punished by some unseen method.

Voldemort addressed Hermione. "Little girl. You have talent. Serve me. Whatever your dreams, I can make them real."

His voice carried a hypnotic edge.

"Yeah, yeah. You're barely holding it together. Worry about yourself first." Hermione waved dismissively. "Besides, I want the Stone. You gonna hand it over?"

Voldemort's gaze darkened.

"Quirinus. Kill her. Take the Stone!" The persuasion failed. Time for violence.

"Confringo!"

BOOM.

Quirrell's wand fired. Hermione's Shield Charm deflected it.

Feeling the curse's intensity, Hermione shook her head.

As expected. Parasitized by Voldemort, drained of magic and life force, Quirrell was weaker than a seventh-year student.

"If that's all you've got, you're not leaving here alive."

One sentence. Voldemort snapped.

Quirrell's face twisted. He screamed.

"Master, no, please, I've been loyal—AHHH!"

After one final shriek, Quirrell went silent.

Voldemort's face migrated from the back of the skull to the front, replacing Quirrell's features entirely.

Wait. He has a nose!

"Is this how you treat loyal servants?" Hermione tilted her head.

"Serving me is his honor." Voldemort's voice was ice.

He'd had no choice. This girl wielded magic far beyond her years. From their brief exchange, he knew Quirrell stood no chance.

But if he missed tonight, the Stone would be lost forever.

So he sacrificed Quirrell. Drained his remaining life and magic. Temporarily restored himself to functional level.

Voldemort raised his wand. "One last chance. Serve me. Or—"

"Confringo!"

Hermione fired first.

The explosion cleared. Quirrell stood unharmed, shielded.

Hermione knew this Voldemort—unlike Quirrell—wouldn't go down easy.

She could stall until he collapsed. Or grab the Stone and bail. But she decided:

Screw it. Let's just end this.

"Avada—" Voldemort raised his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Hermione moved faster.

She levitated Harry by his robes—and hurled him at Voldemort.

"HARRY PROJECTILE!"

Voldemort tried to shove him away—

Then a searing, bone-deep burn erupted where Harry touched him.

"Wh—what IS this?! WHAT IS THIS?!"

For an instant, he relived the moment his curse rebounded.

"NO!!"

Screaming, the body crumbled to ash from the point of contact.

A wisp of smoke escaped. Voldemort's survival instincts kicked in—again.

Before fleeing, he shot Hermione one last hateful glare.

Still glaring? In THAT state? Hermione glared right back.

Go home and review the replay, loser.

She couldn't truly kill him. Not yet.

Hermione stepped forward to grab the Stone—

Then froze.

[Ancient Magic]

[Ancient Magic: Sacrifice Lv1]

[Sacrifice life to generate magical protection against a specific source. Grants immunity to all harm from that source. Physical contact inflicts severe backlash. Strength and duration vary by individual.]

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