Fleur
“Mr. Quirrell,” a stern high voice warbled. “You are dead. And as you were a Ravenclaw, you cannot be a Gryffindor ghost. Now, remove yourself from the corridor or I will begin my experiments on which spells harm both the living and dead.”
“Professor McGonagal,” Fleur began, but had to duck behind a banister as a spell flew over her head. “I’m not Quirrell.”
“I can assure you; I worked with the man for years. You definitely possess his face. Turn around and let me see the back of your head!”
“Um…sure, but please don’t kill me, I’m trying to find Harry Potter.”
“Which is exactly what a possessed Quirrell would say!” The Professor struck at Fleur with an impressive bombarda. Pain rattled through her as she crashed into the stair landing but she was able to leap to her feet and bound off the stairs, dodging more blasts from Minerva.
“Yes, you’re definitely possessed. Poor Quirrell was never so athletic on his own.” Minerva sighed.
“Quirrell is dead, ma’am.” Fleur called out, jumping up to perch on a handrail. “I’m only here to make certain the students are safe.”
“From Lord Voldemort?” Minerva scoffed. “I’ve come to doubt that man is even still active. I’ve had a patronus explaining the true danger. I am surprised to see it come from you.”
Something that looked like streaking blue icicles sliced through the air and Fleur. She jumped into the air and did a flip, landing back where she’d started.
“This is a very strange possession,” Minerva muttered. “What are you, possessed by a vengeful gymnast?”
“I’m not completely human, ma’am. I’m a veela. I’m a teaching assistant here at the school. I’m Fleur Delacour.”
Minerva scoffed. “There is no possible way…”
A feeling hummed through the school. It sizzled through the wards, the walls, the floor, through Fleur’s very brain. And relief flooded her.
Minerva McGonagall fell to her knees. “It’s Albus.” She said. She began to sob and retch. And she must have been deeply upset, because she allowed herself to be held by Quirinus Quirrell until he turned into Fleur Delacour.