the 2 faced man
Harry stepped through the black flames and into a **cold, dimly lit** chamber. A tall, cloaked figure stood before the **Mirror of Erised,** his back turned.
Harry’s heart **pounded.** He had expected **Snape**. Maybe even **Voldemort**. But instead—
“Professor Quirrell?”
Quirrell turned, and Harry shuddered. Gone was the **stuttering, timid** professor he knew. His expression was calm, calculating. **Wrong.**
“Ah, Potter,” Quirrell murmured, stepping closer. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
Harry swallowed hard, forcing himself to stand tall. “Where’s the Stone?”
Quirrell smirked. “Such a brave boy. Just like your mother.” His fingers trailed over the mirror’s surface. “The mirror is the key. It will show me where the Stone is hidden.”
Harry tried to hide his confusion. *Dumbledore’s mirror?*
Quirrell hummed thoughtfully. “I see myself... presenting the Stone to my master...” His lips curled in frustration. “But how do I *take* it?”
Harry took a step back. “Y-you won’t find it.”
Quirrell’s head **snapped toward him.** “Oh, but I think *you* will.”
Before Harry could react, Quirrell flicked his wand, and **invisible ropes** wrapped around Harry, pulling him toward the mirror.
“Look into it, Potter.”
Harry struggled, but Quirrell’s magic held firm. He had no choice—he stared into the mirror.
And there—**he saw himself.** Holding a **small, blood-red** stone.
Harry’s **real** hand twitched—something warm and solid sat in his pocket.
*The Stone!*
He forced his expression to remain neutral. *Don’t let Quirrell know.*
Quirrell was watching him closely. “Well? What do you see?”
Harry’s mind **raced.** He had to stall.
“I... I see myself... shaking Dumbledore’s hand,” he lied. “I won the House Cup for Slytherin.”
Quirrell sneered. “Pathetic.”
Then, from **behind him**, a **voice hissed**:
*"He lies."*
A sharp **chill** ran down Harry’s spine.
Quirrell **flinched**, then slowly, almost **reluctantly**, **unwound his turban.**
Harry’s breath caught in his throat.
Where there should have been the back of Quirrell’s head, there was—
**A face.**
Sunken, pale skin stretched tightly over **red eyes** that burned with hatred.
Voldemort.
Harry’s body **locked up.** He had seen horrors before—monsters, ghosts, even a troll.
But nothing like this.
*"Give me the Stone, boy."*
The voice was like nails against glass.
Harry **stumbled back.** “Never.”
Voldemort’s eyes **narrowed.**
*"Take it from him."*
Quirrell lunged—Harry barely dodged. But as Quirrell grabbed his arm—
**A sharp, searing pain exploded through Harry’s head.**
Quirrell **screamed.**
His fingers **blistered** and **burned** where they had touched Harry’s skin.
Harry gasped. *What—?*
Voldemort shrieked. “Kill him, you fool!”
Quirrell lunged again—Harry, acting on instinct, **grabbed his face.**
Quirrell’s **skin began to burn away.**
Quirrell **screamed.** His whole body **shook violently.**
But Harry was **dizzy**—his scar **seared with agony.** The room **spun.**
The last thing he heard was Voldemort’s furious **screech** before everything—
**Went black.**
Harry drifted in and out of consciousness, his head throbbing with pain. He could hear **muffled voices**, but everything was **too bright, too distant.**
Then—**a familiar voice.**
"Harry."
His eyes fluttered open. **Draco.**
Draco Malfoy sat beside his bed, arms crossed, eyes sharp but **filled with worry.** His normally neat blond hair was **ruffled**, as if he had been running his hands through it repeatedly.
Harry groaned. His body **ached.** "What happened?"
Draco scoffed, but it lacked his usual sharpness. "You nearly got yourself killed, that's what happened."
Before Harry could answer, another voice interrupted—
"Harry, you're awake!"
Ron and Hermione appeared on the other side of his bed, both looking exhausted.
"You've been unconscious for three days," Hermione said, her face pale. "We were so worried!"
"Three—**three days?!**" Harry shot up, then immediately regretted it as his **head spun.**
Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, three days. **Which I had to spend listening to Weasley fret over you.** It was unbearable."
Ron glared. "Oh, *excuse me* for caring about my friend!"
Before they could start arguing, a **gentle chuckle** filled the room.
"Ah, I see you are awake, Mr. Potter."
Harry turned his head and found **Dumbledore** standing near the foot of his bed, looking down at him with **twinkling eyes.**
"Sir—Quirrell! The Stone—Voldemort—"
Dumbledore held up a hand, smiling gently. "Calm yourself, my boy. Everything has been taken care of."
Harry frowned. "But... what happened to Quirrell?"
Dumbledore’s expression **sobered.** "Professor Quirrell did not survive. Once Voldemort abandoned him, he could not sustain himself."
There was **silence.**
Harry swallowed. "And the Stone?"
"Destroyed," Dumbledore said simply. "Nicholas Flamel agreed it was best. The Stone is gone, and with it, any chance of Voldemort using it to return to power."
Harry let that sink in.
"So... we won?"
Dumbledore smiled. "For now."
Draco, who had been **unusually quiet**, suddenly spoke.
"Professor," he said, his voice sharper than usual. "Why did Quirrell burn when he touched Harry?"
Harry blinked, realizing he had been wondering the same thing.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Ah, a very good question, Mr. Malfoy. It was because of something Voldemort will never understand—" He turned to Harry. "Love."
Harry blinked.
Draco scoffed. "*Love?*"
Dumbledore nodded. "Your mother, Harry—she died to protect you. That kind of **sacrifice leaves a mark**—not a visible one, but one woven deep into your very being. Quirrell, who was **filled with darkness**, could not bear to touch someone so protected by love."
Harry sat quietly, absorbing Dumbledore’s words.
Then—
"Wait," he said suddenly. "*The House Cup!* What day is it?!"
Ron groaned. "Of course that’s what you’re worried about."
Hermione smiled. "The feast is tonight."
Draco smirked. "We’re still ahead, if that’s what you’re asking, Potter."
Harry grinned.
"Not for long," Dumbledore said **mysteriously**, his eyes twinkling. "Now, I believe Madam Pomfrey will be quite cross if I keep you up much longer. Rest, Harry. I shall see you at the feast."
And with that, he swept out of the room.
Harry settled back into his pillow, still sore but **feeling lighter.**
Draco, Ron, and Hermione stayed with him, their usual bickering filling the hospital wing.
By the time Harry was allowed to leave the hospital wing, the Great Hall was already **buzzing with excitement.** The ceiling was enchanted with a dazzling **night sky**, and the tables were piled high with food.
Harry walked in with **Draco, Ron, and Hermione**, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement.
The House points were displayed at the front:
- **Slytherin - 472**
- **Gryffindor - 312**
- **Ravenclaw - 426**
- **Hufflepuff - 390**
Slytherin was still in the lead, and their table was already **celebrating.**
Draco smirked. "Told you we'd win, Potter."
Harry rolled his eyes but grinned. He was about to reply when **Dumbledore stood up.**
The Great Hall fell **silent.**
"Another year has come to an end," Dumbledore said, smiling. "And what a year it has been!"
There was polite clapping, though Harry could see the Gryffindors looked a bit downhearted.
"But before we celebrate," Dumbledore continued, "I have a few last-minute **House Points** to award."
Murmurs rippled through the Hall.
"For **Mr. Ronald Weasley**, who displayed great bravery in the face of danger—**50 points!**"
The Gryffindor table **erupted into cheers.** Ron turned bright red.
"For **Miss Hermione Granger**, who used her intelligence to solve a problem most adults could not—**50 points!**"
The cheers **grew louder.**
"For **Mr. Nico di Angelo**, whose resourcefulness and courage proved invaluable—**50 points!**"
The Slytherin table **cheered for their own.** Nico looked startled but gave a small nod of thanks.
"For **Mr. Draco Malfoy**, who showed great loyalty and quick thinking—**50 points!**"
Draco blinked. "*What?*"
The **Slytherin table exploded.** Blaise punched Draco’s arm. "Malfoy, you legend!"
Draco **preened**, but Harry could tell he was actually shocked.
"And finally," Dumbledore continued, and Harry felt his stomach tighten, "to **Harry Potter**, for pure nerve and outstanding courage—**60 points!**"
The Hall **erupted.**
Harry flushed as **people clapped and cheered.** Even the Slytherin table was **whooping** (though some looked a little less enthusiastic).
Dumbledore raised a hand for silence.
"With that, let us see the final results." He **clapped his hands**, and the numbers changed:
- **Slytherin - 522**
- **Gryffindor - 462**
- **Ravenclaw - 426**
- **Hufflepuff - 390**
Slytherin **still won.**
Draco **grinned victoriously.** "Yes!"
The **Slytherin table erupted into celebration**, students cheering and clapping.
Even the Gryffindors, despite losing, seemed **more cheerful.**
Harry watched as Dumbledore smiled at the happy students. His eyes twinkled knowingly when they met Harry’s.
"Now," Dumbledore said, spreading his arms wide, "let the feast begin!"
The tables **filled with food**, and the **celebration truly started.**
Draco was grinning, already **boasting to Blaise about his 50 points.** Nico looked amused as he picked at his food. Ron was stuffing his face, and Hermione was still **beaming.**
Harry **smiled.**
This had been the **wildest** year of his life—but somehow, sitting here with his friends, he knew one thing for certain:
This was only the **beginning.**
The last day at Hogwarts came faster than Harry expected. The castle was buzzing with **students packing up, saying their goodbyes, and making last-minute plans for the summer.**
Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Nico made their way to the **Hogwarts Express,** their trunks rolling behind them.
"Finally, a break from schoolwork," Ron sighed as he flopped into a seat.
"Spoken like a true Gryffindor," Draco smirked, sitting down beside Harry.
Hermione huffed. "I, for one, am going to **miss Hogwarts** over the summer."
"You would," Draco teased, earning a **glare** from Hermione.
Harry laughed, but he couldn't help the **small pang of sadness.** He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys. **Hogwarts was home.**
Draco nudged him. "Cheer up, Potter. You'll be back soon enough. And don't forget—I'm writing to you, so you’d better write back."
Harry grinned. "Promise."
Nico, who had been quiet for most of the ride, finally spoke. "This was... an interesting year."
"You mean a **completely insane year**," Ron corrected.
"That too," Nico admitted with a rare smirk.
The train **whistled** as it pulled into King's Cross Station.
As they stepped onto the platform, Harry felt something **tighten in his chest.** He wasn’t ready to leave.
Draco gave him a **meaningful look.** "Don’t let those Muggles get you down, Potter."
"Yeah," Ron added. "If they’re horrible, just **hex them**—"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded.
Harry chuckled. "I'll be fine. I’ll see you all soon, right?"
Draco smirked. "Try and stop me."
As the others said their goodbyes, Harry watched them go, already counting the days until he would return.
Because now he knew: **he had a family.**
And soon enough, he’d be **home again.**