Chapter 35: Black Holes and Banter
An instant later, I got an answer, as one of the spells slipped through his defenses and sliced a hole through Quirrell's turban, causing the garment to fall to the ground and revealing another face on the back of his head. But not just any face.
It was the face of Voldemort.
I recognized the face immediately from the images I've read in history textbooks and by the looks of it, half the school also recognized him. Snarling bestially, Quirrell – Voldemort? Eh, let's go with Voldemort. Voldemort grabbed the nearest person and it was Ron! Ron was being held hostage by the Dark Lord.
"Mewling creatures!" Voldemort snapped. His voice was surprisingly high and cold. "You will cease spell fire immediately or I will kill this boy!"
"Do as he says!" Headmaster Dumbledore shouted.
Voldemort turned to face Harry. "Now Harry Potter…"
But Harry wasn't there. Instead, he tackled Voldemort from behind, causing Voldemort to drop both Ron and his wand. Harry let out a nearly animalistic cry and started strangling Voldemort. "THIS IS FOR MY PARENTS, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he screamed. And as he did that, Voldemort's flesh started burning and boiling somehow. I don't understand what was going on. Some kind of unconscious magic? No one's given me any answers so far. But it doesn't matter, because things got worse.
Voldemort pulled out his wand and cast a green spell, aiming square at Harry's scar, and Harry dropped dead to the floor.
"NO!" Ron and I screamed simultaneously. I couldn't believe it. My best friend was gone! And Voldemort would pay, I vowed. We both leapt in Voldemort's direction, heedless of the immense danger. Fortunately, Quirrell's body chose that moment to finally give out and he too fell dead to the floor. Voldemort's face then proceeded to melt off of Quirrell's face and dissipate into the air into a noxious black cloud.
"I will not be defeated!" Voldemort thundered. "I will return stronger than before! I am invincible! I am eternal! I –"
"…talk too much," Professor Sinistra finished.
And then the venerable head of Slytherin opened up a fucking black hole about the size of a dinner plate and Voldemort's spirit was sucked into it. Boom, no more Voldemort. A superior Slytherin had bested him.
No one had an opportunity to react to that before a resurrected Harry stood up. He was swaying and he looked disoriented, but he was alive. "Why is everyone staring at me?" he asked. "Oh, shit, I survived another Avada Kedavra, didn't I?"
"Two points from Slytherin for foul language," Dumbledore said piously. I couldn't believe what he was hearing. Harry had just come back from the dead and this was all he got? It was so unfair I couldn't even think of the words to describe it.
Harry, being Harry, didn't need words. Instead, he gave him the finger and then proceeded to stumble onto the floor. "My head hurts," he muttered.
Professor Sinistra closed the black hole. Two professors led Harry and the injured third year towards the hospital wing while everyone was indeed led to their dorms, so I suppose Dumbledore got what he wanted in the end. I suppose everyone was assuming the troll was just something Voldemort made up. It turned out to not be the case. I'm not sure what happened to it. I heard a rumor that Hagrid blew it up with a rocket launcher, but obviously that's preposterous.
While Harry seemed to be completely unaffected by the Killing Curse – save the fact his scar was now almost entirely faded – he had hit his head on the floor when it knocked him to the ground and got a concussion. He's going to be in the hospital wing for at least another day while it gets recovered.
"You just really can't help yourself, can you?" I asked him when Ron and I came to visit him after he'd regained consciousness.
Harry gave a wry smile. "I suppose I can't. You know what the worst part of it was? I never even got a chance to have any treacle tart!"
I threw back my head and laughed. "Never change, Harry. Never change."
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