Quirrell's Last Stand

Quirrell was completely bewildered.

Cano was just an inconspicuous little wizard. He hardly ever looked up in class, never played Quidditch, and always seemed like a withdrawn loner who didn't fit in.

Why was he here?

"Hehe, Canopus, what are you talking about? It's curfew now. If you go back to your dormitory this instant, I can let you off without taking points." Quirrell forced a smile onto his pale face as he slowly raised his wand.

Cano's eyes widened. "Wake up, Quirrell. You and the master on the back of your head are in trouble!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

A blast of green light answered Cano head-on. Cano sharply swung his wand, and a wall of thorns rose from the ground, blocking the Killing Curse.

"Quirrell, I didn't expect you to be so decisive."

Cano stomped his foot, and more thornbushes sprouted from the ground. Thorn after thorn shot toward Quirrell.

"Protego."

An invisible suit of armor formed around Quirrell, deflecting the flying thorns. He waved his wand again, muttering under his breath as a stream of pitch-black flame erupted from its tip.

The thorns on the ground were swept away, and the thorn wall before Cano began to burn as well.

"Fiendfyre? You really kept your cards close to your chest."

Even from a distance, Cano could smell the ominous stench within those flames. He was almost immediately certain that Fiendfyre was a "specialty" of some hell.

"Hehe, Canopus, your teacher is surprised too." Quirrell's hand never stopped moving. Aside from the wall behind him, the entire room was already filled with Fiendfyre.

Cano pulled two acorns from his pocket, poured magic into them, and tossed them into the air.

Cano had prepared these two acorns in advance, carving Ogham runes onto them with his own blood.

The two acorns exploded in midair, and intense positive energy swept through the entire room.

The Fiendfyre was extinguished as though it had encountered its natural enemy, revealing the scorched, pitted floor beneath it.

Quirrell let out a wail as thick black smoke billowed from his body. But he did not fall. Instead, he violently swung his wand, flinging out a silver blade of light that cleaved straight through the thorn wall.

A cry of pain came from behind the wall, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Panting, Quirrell stepped forward to inspect it. The moment he poked his head out, a wooden sword swept toward him.

In his panic, Quirrell raised a hand to block it. The blade sliced through his elbow like a hot knife through butter, and the hand holding his wand dropped to the floor with a slap.

Cano, now fully armed and brimming with surging magic, burst through the scorched and crumbling thorn wall and drove his sword through Quirrell's howling lower abdomen.

"Knight's Squire?" Quirrell howled in agony.

Cano did not hesitate. Charging at full speed, he drove Quirrell, still hanging from the sword, straight into the wall.

Wisps of black smoke rose from the wound in Quirrell's abdomen and the severed end of his arm. His mouth hung open as he convulsed soundlessly.

Cano had intended to keep Quirrell alive so Harry could see him for himself, but Harry still had not arrived after all this fighting. Cano stopped waiting and moved to pull out his wooden sword and behead Quirrell.

Yet Quirrell suddenly went still. A twisted smile appeared on the mouth that had been stretched wide in pain.

Cano immediately abandoned his sword and retreated. Quirrell's severed hand had already turned to ash, but the fallen wand suddenly shot back into Quirrell's hand.

If Quirrell was a boss, then Voldemort was his second-phase transformation. The battle had now entered a new stage.

Quirrell's vitality and magic in the first phase had both been severely weakened. The only thing remotely threatening about him had been the few dark spells he had learned from Voldemort.

Cano had kept up a mix of harassing attacks and defense, giving Quirrell a false impression. Then, the two acorns he used to dispel the Fiendfyre further convinced Quirrell that Cano was not particularly powerful.

After all, the young heir of a magical family ought to have a couple of treasures on him, but that did not mean he himself was strong.

And then Quirrell got unlucky.

But would this second phase really be stronger? A huge question mark filled Cano's mind.

"Canopus Black, I am the Dark Lord. Your father once served me." Quirrell rolled his eyes back, his face covered in black mist, as he slowly pulled himself free from the wall.

Talking? Ha.

Cano answered with a Diffindo, but Quirrell flicked his wand and knocked it aside.

"Your father was a pure man. He gave much for our ideals."

"Come, Cano. Stand with me. You are noble pure-blood; together, we can share this world."

Voldemort occupied Quirrell's body, tempting Cano with his words while keeping his wand steadily raised.

"Oh, then, esteemed Dark Lord, if I join your ranks, what can I gain?" Cano asked with apparent sincerity, his own wand likewise pointed at the other man.

"Everything, as long as you help me return to life. Treasure, power, eternal life—you may choose whatever you wish." Quirrell's face gradually withered, and the life force in his body grew weaker and weaker. Voldemort's tone became more urgent as well.

"Ha! Voldemort, I think Quirrell is about to die, and you're in a hurry to find another back of the head to live on!" Cano cast the Shattering Curse again, but this time Quirrell did not use Protego. Instead, he rolled awkwardly across the ground and dodged the spell.

He was weakening. The wounds Cano had left on him were scorching his filthy soul. He could not defeat Cano now, and he did not dare fight him.

Quirrell could no longer hold on. If Cano, the only living person here, was killed, Voldemort would become a wandering ghost once more.

At that moment, Harry emerged from the passageway. Seeing the scene in the room, he could not help but be shocked.

He had thought Snape would be here. He never expected it to be Quirrell.

The entrance to the passage was very close to Voldemort, and Cano did not have time to protect Harry.

Voldemort was overjoyed. He immediately waved his wand to conjure a rope, binding Harry and dragging him toward himself like a dead dog.

"Canopus, don't move, or I'll curse him to death immediately. Harry is your friend, isn't he? You learned a head full of filthy things in the Muggle world." Voldemort held Harry between himself and Canopus.

"You have a choice, Potter," he said softly, like a snake flicking its tongue. "Help me obtain the Philosopher's Stone. It's in the mirror. Or make Canopus give up resisting."

"I'll never help you! Voldemort, you killed my parents!" Harry struggled desperately, trying to break free of the ropes.

At that moment, he saw Quirrell slowly remove his turban, revealing melted facial features on the back of his head. Those ugly features soon crawled onto Quirrell's face, the process bizarre and disgusting.

"Your mother... she needn't have died... Don't let her death be in vain... Hehe."

"Harry, why don't you chat with him a little longer? This is your first meeting with Voldemort. It's such a memorable occasion." Canopus teased mockingly.

In a little while, Quirrell would probably drop dead on the spot. Forget fighting another round.

"Damn it! Now, Harry Potter! Go get the Philosopher's Stone now, or I'll kill you!"

"Harry, are you afraid of the Killing Curse?" Canopus's voice remained as innocent as ever.

"Shut up, Canopus!"

"I seem to be the only wizard who wasn't killed by the Killing Curse." Harry seemed to have realized something as well. Quirrell looked like he was already at the end of his rope.

In tacit understanding, he began chatting with Canopus. Voldemort could no longer endure it.

"Come here! Get me the Philosopher's Stone!"

Quirrell waved his wand, and Harry flew toward him. But the moment he touched Harry, an intense burning sensation made him howl.

Like hot water splashed over snow, Quirrell's last remaining hand turned to ash, and his wand fell to the floor.

Harry instinctively reached out and pressed a hand against Quirrell's face. His face cracked like an overfired clay vessel, and then his entire body exploded with a bang, scattering fragments everywhere.

Canopus's eyes widened as he watched the "thing" fly out of Quirrell's remains.

An aura of hell washed over them.