Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Warning: This chapter gets rather violent. I promised it, and I'm going to deliver on that.
Last Chapter
"Hermione…"
"No, Harry. I'm not leaving you to face him alone," she said with determination. Harry sighed.
"Alright. I just don't want to lose you…"
"And I don't want to loose you either, Harry. I'm your best friend, and I'm going to fight alongside you…" Harry pulled her into a fierce embrace, which she returned. She felt tears prickling in her eyes, and broke away. "Well, we should go," she said quietly.
Each swallowed a drop of the potion. Harry felt a icy cold spreading through his body, and stepped into the black fire. He felt nothing and walked through the fire. The two walked into the antechamber, and suddenly the fire reignited, blocking their escape.
Standing in front of a large mirror was a black-cloaked figure. He turned to face the two, and Hermione sucked in a breath. It was Quirrell.
"Deal with the companion, my servant," a cold, snake-like voice spoke.
Chapter 14: The Color of Blood
The voice froze Harry's blood, and he found himself unable to move. Hermione's eyes widened in fear. Quirrell began approaching, a malicious grin on his face. He raised his wand, pointed it at Hermione, and before Harry could bring up his own wand, he sent the eleven-year old girl crashing into a wall, knocking her out. She slid down to the ground, a trickle of blood flowing down the stones from her head wound.
Harry screamed in shock and outrage and ran over to his friend. He hadn't gotten to within three feet of her when he was abruptly lifted off his feet and suspended in midair. His limbs and head were forced backwards, and he was paralyzed, straining against the spell. There was a burst of light from Harry's wand, and suddenly the hold was relinquished as he crumpled to the ground. His wand rolled away down the stairs, stopping at Quirrell's feet.
"Master, what is it?" Quirrell cried, seemingly to no one. He settled upon conjuring ropes and bound Harry to a pillar, where he looked on helplessly at his unconscious friend and traitorous teacher. Quirrell was pacing relentlessly in front of the mirror, cursing. Harry listened closely to what he was saying.
"…Blasted mirror! I see myself with the Stone, presenting it to my master! But how can I get it out of the Mirror! Shall I break it?" Quirrell cursed again, and shot off a random spell at the ceiling, which caused a small explosion and left a black scorch mark. "Master, aide me!"
"Use the boy…use the boy…" the same cold voice said.
Harry's blood froze again. Quirrell spun around and pointed his wand at Harry, vanishing the bonds. He again levitated Harry into the air and dumped him on the ground in front of the Mirror. Harry didn't know how, but he knew that he couldn't look at the Mirror. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Open your eyes, Potter! Look upon the Mirror!" Harry didn't open them. "Obey me! Crucio!"
Harry's body exploded into the most intense agony he had ever felt. His blood boiled, his scar was on fire, and his skin felt as if it had been stabbed by a thousand burning knives. His bones felt cold against the burning of his flesh. He thrashed around on the ground in agony, screaming at the top of his lungs. Quirrell held him under the curse for nearly thirty seconds before releasing him. Harry rolled over so that he wasn't facing the mirror.
