Harvey had never wanted to throw books more in his life. He wanted to grab the textbook that sat before him and throw it across the room so that he didn’t have to look at it anymore. He was over it. The last two days, he had done nothing but listen to his Professors and Hermione go on and on about revision and their final exams. He was sick of it, and Harvey hated tests.
The other annoying thing was the fact that Hermione seemed to be enjoying herself. Harvey’s friendship with her had started out as rocky, but he had come to know that there was a lot more about her than just how obsessed she was with learning. He liked the side of her that wasn’t always burying her nose in books; he liked the side that did too, but currently studious Hermione was getting on his nerves.
Harvey didn’t even believe that Harry focused that much on revision, and he was a Ravenclaw. He could see him doing it for Potions, but not every bloody subject. It was exhausting, and Harvey really wanted a nap. He had barely made it through their morning class of Transfiguration and wasn’t looking forward to Defence.
A large yawn came out of Harvey as he walked with Hermione towards the Defence classroom. She gave him a look and said, “Did Ron keep you up again?”
Harvey shook his head. Ron had been trying to apologise and fix their friendship over the past few days, which meant he was trying all sorts of things to earn Harvey’s forgiveness. There had been a few ridiculous things that the red-head had tried out, all of them failing because the only thing that Harvey would accept would be for Ron to stop being a jerk towards Harry. Of course, he didn’t believe it would happen anytime soon, and so he just decided to let Ron continue to make his attempts since there was no way anyone could convince him that he was going about it all wrong.
“I did try and tell him to stop with his antics,” Hermione said.
Harvey sighed. “I know. Everyone has. But he is determined.” He rubbed his eyes.
“Why don’t you just accept his apology?” she asked.
“I want to,” he said, “but it isn’t me that he needs to apologise too.”
“Harry.”
Harvey nodded. “The issues between Harry and me are that; between Harry and me. Ron seems to think that because they are my problems, he has a right to get in the middle. Things have finally gotten better between Harry and me, and Ron seems to be determined to ruin it.”
Hermione frowned. “Maybe there is something else bothering Ron?”
“Like what? He hasn’t said anything.”
Hermione stopped in her tracks and tapped her chin. “You said that Ron has always had issues with Harry.”
Harvey nodded.
“And that he was always pointing out that Harry was a bad brother and that he would be a better brother to you.”
Again, Harvey nodded.
“Sounds like he has some sibling issues of his own.”
Harvey frowned. “But Ron’s brothers seem cool. The twins, especially.”
“To you, maybe.” Hermione sighed. “Ron might have grown up feeling left out by his brothers, just like you did with Harry. Now, Harry and you have mended things, or at least you're trying too, and Ron sees this as a bad thing rather than a good thing.”
“You make it sound like Ron’s jealous of Harry.”
Hermione shrugged. “Maybe he is.”
Harvey didn’t want to believe it. Ron was his best friend; he had no reason to be jealous of his relationship with Harry.
“Maybe you should talk to Ron, see what he says.” Hermione started walking again.
Harvey followed a few steps behind. He wondered what Ron would say? He was also curious to see what Harry would think. Maybe Ron and his brother’s didn’t get along as good as he thought.
Catching up with Hermione, they reached the Defence classroom to find the rest of the Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s waiting outside. Normally, they would all go in and wait for Professor Quirrell, but it seemed that the door was locked.
Harvey spotted Ron standing just to the left of the door with Dean and Seamus. He walked over to them, Ron sending him a large grin when he spotted him.
“Harvey, Quirrell’s disappeared,” said Ron.
“What?” asked Hermione; she was right beside Harvey.
“No one’s seen him,” said Dean. “We got here, and the fourth years that had him this morning said he never showed up.”
Harvey frowned. “That’s weird.”
Hermione grasped Harvey’s shoulder. “What if he went after the stone?”
Panic lept in Harvey’s chest. They had only guessed that Quirrell was the person after the stone; they had no proof. Harry did, though; at least something Snape had told him made it seem like they knew who it was. Not that Harry had shared that information with him. But Quirrell could have gone after the stone last night; he could have it and be miles away by now.
Ron huffed. “I thought we agreed that it wasn’t Quirrell.”
“No, you said it wasn’t,” said Harvey.
“What are you three on about?” asked Seamus.
“It’s nothing,” mumbled Harvey.
The sound of boots clicking against the cobblestone floors caught everyone's attention. Professor McGonagall had a stern look on her face. She cleared her throat and said, “Alright, first years, it seems Professor Quirrell is unwell and won’t be able to teach your class today. Unfortunately, we do not have someone who can take over the class last minute. You can have this period as a free period, but I do highly recommend that you use it to review for your exam and not to lollygag about.” Her eyes landed on Ron.
Ron frowned but didn’t say anything.
“Off you go,” she said before unlocking the Defence classroom door and stepping inside.
Harvey didn’t like it. Any of it. Professor don’t just up and disappear; McGonagall had claimed that Quirrell was unwell, but if that had been the case, then the fourth years probably wouldn’t have been left to wait around for their whole first period. It seemed like the kind of thing that he should tell Harry about, and it was still staying out of it all if he was only passing on information.
That was what Harvey told himself as he headed towards the library. He knew that Harry had a free period at this time and would most likely be studying for his O.W.L.S. Hermione and Ron both followed him as he wound through the corridors, neither of them questioning his rushed pace.
When they did reach the library, Harvey frowned when he immediately spotted Jenna and Dylan from the doorway. They were sitting at their normal table, but Harry wasn’t with them. Carlisle was, along with his girlfriend and Cedric, but not Harry.
“Where’s Harry?” he mumbled.
Ron made a small noise of protest but didn’t say anything.
“He has a free period, doesn’t he?” asked Hermione.
Harvey nodded. He headed over to the table and pulled out the chair beside Jenna.
She smiled at Harvey as he took a seat and said, “Hey.”
“Hi.” Harvey returned the smile, but it was only small.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where your brother has disappeared too?” she asked.
Harvey frowned. “You haven’t seen him?”
Jenna shook her head.
“We haven’t seen him since last night,” said Dylan.
“Snape probably just has him locked in his dungeon,” mumbled Carlisle.
“Maybe,” said Dylan. “He left the tower last night to get us food and never came back. I assumed he got held up, but his bed was never slept in.”
Jenna’s smile disappeared, and she looked annoyed. “You didn’t think to mention that earlier?”
Dylan shrugged. “It’s Harry; he does all-nighters all the time.”
Jenna sighed. “No, this doesn’t feel right. Harry doesn’t just disappear, and he doesn’t miss classes. Not this close to exams.”
“Maybe we should go talk to Professor Flitwick,” said Cedric.
Harvey shook his head. Flitwick may have been Harry’s head of house, but Snape would be more help. After all, the man knew about everything going on; at least Harvey thought he did.
“No, Snape,” said Harvey.
Jenna looked back at him. “Yeah, good call.” She stood up, closing her books. “I’ll go with Harvey and let you guys know if I find him.”
All of Harry’s friends nodded.
Jenna slung her bag over her shoulder and walked with Harvey, Hermione, and a reluctant Ron out of the library and down towards the dungeons. They reached the Potions classroom, and Jenna knocked on the door. It was pulled open by Snape, and he sneered at them all.
“I have a class in session; what do you want, Darton?” asked Snape.
Jenna said, “No one has seen Harry since last night.”
Snape tensed. “Really?”
“That, and Quirrell has disappeared,” said Harvey.
Snape stepped out of the classroom and left the door slightly ajar. “When exactly did you see Harrison last?”
“We finished studying around nine. We were all hungry because we hadn’t eaten, so Harry offered to come down to the kitchens to get us something. But he never came back. The assumption was that you distracted him with work,” said Jenna.
Snape frowned. “No, I never saw him.” He rubbed his chin. “And Quirrell?” He locked eyes with Harvey.
“He never showed up for class,” said Ron.
The group turned to look at the red-head.
“The fourth-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins said that he never showed up for their class, and while we were waiting for our own to start, McGonagall showed up and told us he was sick,” explained Ron.
Snape glanced back at his classroom door. “Right. Darton, I’ll need you to supervise the second-years; they are doing revision. It’s just theory.”
Jenna nodded, “Yes, Professor.”
“I need to go speak to Professor McGonagall; you three, go find something useful to do.” Snape walked back into his classroom.
Harvey frowned. “I can’t just sit around while my brother is missing.”
Jenna grabbed his shoulder. “I’m sure Harry is fine.”
Harvey wanted to believe her, but his gut was telling him that somehow Harry and Quirrell both missing wasn’t a good sign.
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The thumping in the back of his head was the first thing he noticed. It was loud and repetitive. Harry couldn’t hold in the groan that came out of him as he blinked open his eyes and felt the pain. The rest of his body seemed to ache, just not as bad as his head. He lifted his hand to hold the back of his throbbing skull and felt something wet. His eyes focused enough that he looked down at his fingers and saw red; his head was bleeding.
It took a moment for everything to make sense. Harry knew he had been heading back to Ravenclaw tower, he had food for Jenna, Dylan and himself, but he had heard a voice. Quirrell. Face on the back of his head.
Harry looked around the room, slightly panicking. Another face had been on the back of Quirrell’s head, someone who had been commanding him. Voldemort, it had to be. Somehow he had connected himself to Quirrell, probably one of the only ways he can stay alive. But it wouldn’t be something they could maintain forever, that explained why Voldemort would be consuming Unicorn blood; it would keep him and Quirrell alive.
The room Harry found himself in looked like an unused classroom. There was one window that was half-covered by a worn curtain, desks were pushed to one side of the room with chairs stacked on top, a dusty chalkboard was sitting against the furthest wall, and a few empty painting frames leant against the wall to Harry’s left. Sun was shining through the window; it looked to be about midday, which meant he had been unconscious for some time.
Pushing himself to stand, Harry’s legs wobbled slightly, and the room spun, but Harry kept himself upright by leaning against the wall. He looked over at the door and wondered if he should bother trying; he had seen Quirrell’s secret, what he was really keeping beneath that ugly purple turban. There was no way the man had hidden him in this classroom and not locked the door. And without his wand, which Harry noticed was no longer in his pocket, he wouldn’t be able to get out any time soon.
Taking a breath to calm the spinning room, Harry kept his hand against the wall and moved over to the door. There was no harm in trying. He grasped the handle, and as he suspected, the door was locked.
Harry could only hope that someone had noticed he was missing and that they would come looking for him. He would just have to be patient.
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It had been almost an hour since Harvey had realised his brother was missing. Snape had informed McGonagall about Harry’s disappearance and now had the ghosts and prefects searching the castle. He knew it would take time; Hogwarts was a large place with many rooms to check. Harvey could only be patient and hope that someone found him soon.
The problem with Quirrell was another story. McGonagall was sticking with the story that he was suffering from an illness, but Harvey knew better than that. He had noticed Snape role his eyes when McGonagall had tried to dismiss their claims that Quirrel was up to something.
But with no information as to where Quirrell might be or where Harry was, Harvey was forced to wait. He had been encouraged by McGonagall to try and go about his day as normal and promised to find him when Harry was located. But Harvey couldn’t think about anything else.
Ron and Hermione had tried to be helpful. Ron had avoided grumbling about Harry and had tried to distract him with chess and Exploding Snap; neither worked. Hermione was offering plausible theories as to where Harry way, theories that suggested he was fine and simply unaware of the panic he was causing. She had also tried to get them all back to studying but had thrown that out the window after twenty minutes of no progress.
When the period had ended, and it was time for lunch, Harvey followed his friends down to the Great Hall. Jenna and Carlisle had both checked in on him; Jenna offering comfort while Carlisle tried for humour; both were appreciated but neither really helped. Harvey offered them a smile and tried to eat something.
“I think they have to be here somewhere,” said Ron.
Harvey glanced over at his friend and stopped poking at his sandwich.
Hermione asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Harry and Quirrell,” said Ron.
Harvey caught Hermione’s frown; she had been trying to avoid that topic.
“If you think about it, Harry was suspicious about the stone, and Snape clearly told him something. What if Quirrell found out and perceived Harry as a threat? He probably wanted to remove Harry from the equation so that wouldn’t stop him from going after the stone,” said Ron.
Hermione huffed. “That isn’t helping, Ronald.”
Ron returned her frown. “Let me finish.”
Hermione pursed her lips but didn’t protest further.
“Harry being missing is a distraction; all the teachers, ghosts and prefects are searching the whole school trying to find him,” said Ron.
Harvey realised where his friend was going. “You think Quirrell is using Harry as a distraction so that he can go and get the stone?”
Ron nodded. “Yeah, possibly.”
“We need to head to the third floor,” said Harvey.
Hermione grabbed his shoulder. “Quirrell isn’t stupid enough to do it during broad daylight; any student could spot him in the castle.”
“He will wait until tonight when we are all asleep,” said Ron.
Harvey nodded. “Tonight then; tonight we are going through that trap door.”
It wasn’t what Harry wanted; Harvey knew that. But everyone else was looking for Harry, and if no one else could stop Quirrell, then they needed too.
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Harry had pulled down one of the chairs that had been stacked on top of the desks. He had placed it across the room, away from the door, and had taken a seat. He had grabbed one of the smaller dusty covered blankets and shaken it off before folding it up and holding it against his head. The wet patch where his head at been bleeding wasn’t too bad, he didn’t think he would need stitches, but Madam Pomfrey would probably mention something about a concussion. After all, he had ended up with enough because of Quidditch to be able to tell.
It had been about thirty minutes, Harry guessed, since he woke up, and there was no sign of Quirrell. He wondered if perhaps the Professor had dumped him here to keep everyone distracted while he went after the stone. It was possible that he had done so last night and had already fled, but then Snape had been keeping an eye on both the third floor and Quirrell. Apparently not close enough if he had never seen the second face Quirrell had.
Harry sighed; the first four years at Hogwarts had been quiet; why couldn’t this year have been like the other? He didn’t blame Harvey; it wasn’t his fault. It was probably just unfortunate timing that Quirrell went and got himself possessed by a half-dead Dark Wizard, or maybe not.
Whatever happened that night in Godric’s Hollow had left Voldemort weak. His body probably destroyed or ruined enough that it could no longer sustain his soul, but why didn’t he just die? Clearly, Voldemort had had some sort of plan just in case his body was destroyed; he had probably just not planned to be stuck like he was for eleven years.
It was all just a big headache.
Harry was surprised when he heard the lock on the door lift. The door swung open, and Quirrell walked in with a very smug look on his face. The turban was back in place, covering the second face, and he didn’t look like he was in pain anymore. Harry could still picture the pain that had been ingrained on the man’s face.
He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to have another soul trapped inside of you. To have that soul eating away at your body, letting it kill you. Harry shivered to think what something as evil as Voldemort’s soul would be like. But the strength in the way he held himself, that smug exterior; Quirrell had probably left to drain another Unicorn dry.
“Eat any good Unicorn lately?” asked Harry. It was probably an unnecessary comment, but Harry wanted to make it known how disgusted he was by Quirrell’s choices.
Quirrell’s smug look didn’t falter. “A necessary sacrifice.”
“Is that what you’re calling it.” Harry scoffed.
“How did you know about the blood?” asked Quirrell. “Was it that half-giant nitwit? Or your nosey younger brother?”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“I only ask because I am curious about how much you actually know. After all, Snape has been suspicious of me since Halloween, not that he could prove anything. Do you only know what he knows?” Quirrell sounded like he was trying to goat Harry into revealing something. He wasn’t sure what, though.
“I know that you have let a leech latch on to you. That your body is probably dying, which is why you have succumbed to drinking the blood of a Unicorn. I know that you need that stone more than even now, and not just because of your master and his need for his own body, but to restore your own,” said Harry.
Quirrell nodded slowly. “And do you know who my master is?”
“Snape guessed Voldemort; he made valid points as to why and I couldn’t really disagree with him. After all, there was no other reason for you to jinx Harvey’s broom and try and kill him.” Harry watched Quirrell’s reaction, but the man didn’t react.
“Your brother and his friends were sticking their nose where it didn’t belong. Then again, Dumbledore and his meddling ways probably planned for your brother to become involved.” Quirrell clasped his hands behind his back.
Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that. He didn’t trust Dumbledore; the man always seemed to have ulterior motives and did things like he was playing a chess game. But he trusted Quirrell even less.
Harry asked, “Do you really think Dumbledore planned for you to have Voldemort latch himself on to you and try to go after the stone, so he moved it to Hogwarts to protect it so that Harvey would face off with him?”
Quirrell smirked. “Maybe. I don’t really know for certain. But it is strange that he would disappear from the school for so long, leaving the stone vulnerable.”
Harry wouldn’t admit that it could be plausible. When all of this shit was over, Harry would make sure to confront the headmaster and get an answer, but Quirrell didn’t need to know that information.
“Can we stop with the dramatics?” asked Harry. He didn’t want to see here talking with the crazy Professor. And he really didn’t want that face, or Voldemort, to start talking either. It was weird enough just knowing there was a face under the bloody turban.
“I wouldn’t call them dramatics. But certainly, we do have some time to kill, so I’m not sure what else we would discuss? Unless we could go over the last essay, you handed in.” Quirrell picked up a chair and placed it in the centre of the room. He sat down and smiled.
“What are we waiting for?” asked Harry.
Quirrell’s smug smirk appeared again. “You, Mr Black, and I shall be going to collect the stone that I require tonight. Once I have the stone, you shall be free to go.”
Harry scoffed. “Why don’t I believe that you mean that?”
Quirrell shrugged. “Believe whatever you like.”
It was probably the worst situation he could be in. Without his wand, Harry didn’t have anything he could do against Quirrell. He may not be the most powerful wizard, but he had experience that Harry didn’t. If Harry had his wand, there could have been a chance that he might be able to beat the wizard, but he had no idea if it had been left in the Defence classroom or if Quirrell had it hidden. All Harry could do was wait and hope that someone found him before the sun went down.
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