Voldemort's Offer

"You! Gaunt!"

Quirrell stared at Edmund in terror. He had not expected the last person to enter this room to be anyone other than Harry.

Yet Edmund had come too.

Of course he had. The annoyingly handsome disruption had found his way here anyway.

Quirrell had clearly drunk the correct potion, leaving only enough for one person to pass through.

Then again, Edmund had a phoenix.

That explained far too much.

"Fool. Turn around."

Another voice suddenly sounded from Quirrell's body, startling Harry badly.

"Yes, Master."

Quirrell answered respectfully, turned around, and slowly removed his turban.

Harry felt as if a monster had fixed its gaze on him. He wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

Even Edmund was disgusted.

That was not the back of Quirrell's head. It was a chalk-white dead face with two terrible, bright red eyes.

Most importantly, it had no nose.

Edmund had known for a long time that Voldemort was attached to the back of Quirrell's head. He had simply not expected the sight to be a hundred times uglier than the film version.

"Harry Potter."

"Look what I have become," the face said. "I must borrow another's body. But there are always those willing to let me into their hearts and minds."

The face slowly turned toward Edmund.

"Edmund Gaunt. In a sense, I am your elder."

"My mother was a Gaunt. I know your talent. Submit to me, and you will become my right-hand man."

Edmund laughed.

"Voldemort, that is a dangerous thing to say. I am a model Hogwarts student with excellent grades, admirable conduct, and no ambition to become anyone's right-hand man."

Voldemort seemed to think Edmund was afraid of Dumbledore and continued speaking.

"You need not worry. That old fool Dumbledore..."

"Bombarda!"

A blazing explosive spell shot from in front of Edmund and roared toward Voldemort.

Edmund had no patience for Voldemort's speech. He sent a fire-bright blast straight at his face.

Voldemort had clearly not expected this young wizard to ignore the usual villainous exchange so thoroughly. For a moment, he failed to react.

By the time he recovered, the spell was almost on him.

With no other choice, Voldemort threw Quirrell's body into an extremely undignified roll and dodged the attack.

"So this is the Dark Lord?"

Edmund mocked him without mercy, but his hand did not slow. With a wave of his wand, three spells shot toward Voldemort in a triangular formation.

This time, Voldemort did not underestimate him. He released three curses of his own and intercepted Edmund's attacks with frightening precision.

"Do you truly think I could not defeat you in the Forbidden Forest?"

Voldemort roared. Last time, he had only been careless. He had never expected this young descendant of his family to survive the Killing Curse at all, much less come back stronger.

"Harry, go to the Mirror of Erised and get the Philosopher's Stone. I will handle him."

Edmund ignored Voldemort's fury and gave Harry his instructions.

Harry hurried toward the Mirror of Erised.

Voldemort did not stop him. After all, his plan also required Harry Potter to obtain the Stone.

"Sectumsempra!"

Two invisible blades of force struck toward Voldemort, stealthy and vicious.

With his sharp perception, Voldemort dodged one of them.

The other slashed into his thigh.

"Ah!"

A scream burst from Quirrell's mouth. Perhaps because the body was not truly Voldemort's, Voldemort himself seemed to feel little pain.

Poor Quirrell, however, was still the one paying for it.

"Damn you."

Voldemort summoned a mass of black mist and repaired the injury. Even without pain, a damaged leg would affect the body's movement.

Voldemort's expression grew increasingly grim. From their brief exchange, he could tell that Edmund's spells had become much stronger again. His casting was also far more fluid than before.

This could not continue.

Dumbledore might arrive at any moment.

"My servant, Quirrell. Offer me everything."

After saying that, Voldemort ignored Quirrell's resistance entirely. The black mist he had summoned spread across the whole body, and Quirrell began screaming in agony.

Edmund frowned.

Voldemort might not be at his full strength, but he still had no shortage of crooked magic.

Edmund had read about this sort of magic in the Restricted Section. It directly squeezed a wizard's life force to produce magical power far beyond normal limits for a short time.

It was the sort of desperate forbidden art that belonged in dark legends.

Sure enough, scarlet fire began spilling from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Dark magic curled through it, and the flames spread madly across the floor, forming a giant serpent of Fiendfyre.

The fiery serpent slithered toward Edmund.

At that moment, Aurea cried out above Edmund's head and charged forward in golden phoenix fire to meet the Fiendfyre serpent.

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