What followed was the most horrifying thing Heri had ever experienced. The disembodied voice called her out on her lie and was then revealed to be Voldemort himself hitching a ride on the back of Quirrell's head like a flesh-eating parasite. He was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. There was some definite rotting going on at the edge of Voldemort's face where it met the rest of Quirrell's head. He must have been the funk coming from Quirrell's turban. Gag. "Mere shadow and vapour . . ." the ghastly wraith hissed. "I have form only when I can share another's body . . . but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds . . . Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks . . . and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own . . ." Not that Heri was complaining, but why did they keep informing her of every horrible thing they had done to get to this point? They obviously thought they were going to get away with it, but why were they chancing it by giving Heri a step-by-step outline of all their criminal activity? They might as well give her a hand-written time-line. "Now . . ." Voldemort finally said. His eyes narrowed. "Why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?" Oh, bugger! She thought they hadn't realised. She stumbled backwards in alarm. "Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me . . . or you'll meet the same end as your parents . . . They died begging me for mercy . . ." Fury filled her. "LIAR!" Heri shouted. Her polite veneered disappeared once again. How dare he lie to her?! She remembered far back enough to know that neither of her parents gave any hint of pleading with that monster! Voldemort made more false statements. He tried to pander to her ego while also guilting her into giving up. Too bad for him that the more he talked, the angrier Heri got. "Your mother needn't have died . . . she was trying to protect you . . . Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain." Heri trembled in rage. "NEVER!" If he wanted the stupid rock, he'd have to pry it from her cold, dead hand! Heri sprang toward the flaming doorway; if she was quick enough, she'd get away with minimal burning. Voldemort screamed, "SEIZE HER!" and the next second, Heri felt Quirrell's hand close around her wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Heri's scar. Her head felt as though it was about to split in two! She screamed, struggling with all her might, and to her surprise, Quirrell let go of her. The pain in her head lessened. She looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers — they were blistering before his eyes. "Seize her! SEIZE HER!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Heri clean off her feet, landing on top of her, both hands around Heri's neck. Heri's scar was almost blinding her with pain, yet she could see Quirrell howling in agony. "Master, I cannot hold her — my hands — my hands!" Quirrell — though pinning Heri to the ground with his knees — let go of her neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms. Heri could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny. "Then kill her, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort. Heri saw red. Kill her? KILL HER?! SHE'D KILL THEM FIRST! Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Heri — by instinct — reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face. "AAAARGH!" Quirrell rolled off her, his face blistering. Blistering. Heat. Flesh on flesh. Burning. Heri's fevered mind flickered through primitive thoughts the way an animal's would. Pressing her advantage, Heri jumped to her feet and caught Quirrell by the arm. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Heri off but she put her abnormal strength to use and dragged him across the floor as he writhed. She pushed back the pain in her head and focused on the task at hand. She heaved the howling man halfway up and threw him into the mirror with a resounding crash. Shards of glass came off embedded into his back. A thick shard gouged into Voldemort's eye. The wraith was screeching now. "KILL HER! KILL HER!" Heri snatched up a long, jagged shard and brought it down on Quirrell's front again and again. Her other hand was wrapped around Quirrell's forearm and the man convulsed, trying to jerk away from both attacks but having nowhere to go. Stab after stab, Heri brought down the sharp glass with as much force and speed she could muster. By the gods, the pain in her head was staggering! Heri's head swam and her vision faded in an out as she relentlessly brought her weapon down on her foe. No, no, she wouldn't die here! Not by this wretched creature! But she found that her arms grew increasingly heavy; her muscles ached and her lungs burned. She didn't want to die there, but there was nothing she could do to put off the descent of her eye-lids. Heri's bloodied fingers released their grip on her fragment of glass and she fell into the depths of blackness, down . . . down . . . down . . . Albus Dumbledore wasn't certain how he felt about Heri Potter. On one hand, she was a sweet girl that got along with students of every House, did well in her classes, and was the darling of the faculty, Severus included though he wouldn't admit it. On the other hand, her sorting had been a surprise, and she was turning out quite a bit differently than he had expected. A person was bound to surprise you every once and a while, true, but Heri was nothing like Albus had thought she would be.
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