The final door opened with the soft sigh of ancient hinges, and for a moment — a single fragile moment — the air was still.
It wasn't the oppressive stillness of the earlier chambers.
No, this was different — a silence that listened, that held its breath, as though the stones themselves awaited a revelation.
The chamber beyond was vast and semi-circular, lit by a cold, silvery light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
And there, standing before the cursed Mirror of Erised, was Professor Quirrell.
Only… it was not the same timid man who stammered through his lectures.
His posture was wrong — too straight, too deliberate.
His robes, once neat, were torn and dust-stained, the look on his face no longer terrified but instead frustrated.
Harry froze in the doorway beside Cassius.
"Professor…? What no.. It was... it was snape."
Quirrell turned, his eyes glinting with something alien.
"Yes," he said, the nervous tremor gone from his voice, replaced with a silken, unnatural calm. "It's me. Surprised, Potter? You thought it was Snape all along, didn't you? Afterall who would presume poor s-s-stuttering professor quirrel."
Harry's lips parted, but no sound came out.
Cassius leaned casually against a stone column, arms folded, expression unreadable.
His gaze flicked from Quirrell to the mirror, then back again.
Quirrel spun round again, to stare into the mirror.
"What does this mirror do, i see what i desire, i see myself holding the stone, but how do i get it!" Quirrell practically shouted to the mirror, his voice trembling now not with fear but with frustrated awe.
His hands clenched into fists.
And then came the voice.
Soft.
Serpentine.
Echoing from nowhere, and yet filling every corner of the room.
"Use the boy."
The whisper was thin as smoke, cold as death, and it seemed to crawl over their skin.
Quirrell stiffened.
"The boy? Of course—Potter!"
Harry jerked back as Quirrell's hand swung toward him.
"Come here, Now!" the professor screamed.
Almost like he was entranced Harry stumbled forward until he was standing before the mirror gazing into its depths once more.
But in a second his expression looked shocked.
"What, what is it, Tell me What Do You See."
Harry hesitated.
Cassius remained still, perched on the edge of the staircase — a silent observer.
This was how it was meant to unfold.
"I… I see myself…" His voice faltered. "I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I—I've won the House Cup."
Quirrell's eyes narrowed.
Cassius almost smiled.
A convincing lie, if not for the slight upward twitch of the boy's lips — pride giving him away.
"He lies," the voice hissed.
"Tell the truth, what do you see!"
"Let me speak to him."
"Master you are not strong enough...?"
"I have strength enough for this."
Harry looked utterly confused, stepping back a few steps, while quirrel resolved began to undo his turban, before revealing the horrific face contained below.
A pale face emerging from the back of Quirrels head, slits for nostrils with no nose, and red demon like eyes peering through the mirror at the boy.
"Harry Potter…" the voice rasped, no longer ghostly but audible now.
"Voldemort..."
"Yes... See what i have become, see what i must do to survive, unicorn blood can sustain me, but for a proper body of my own i require the stone."
"..."
Seeing Harry lost in thought eye drifting to the mirror.
"Would you like to see you mother and father again? Join me and i can make it possible for you meet them again, just give me the stone."
"No! You liar!"
Harry made to run away but before he could
But Cassius was already moving.
He stepped behind Harry in silence, a single sharp blow to the back of the boy's neck knocking him limp.
Voldemort's eyes flared crimson.
"What—?"
Cassius caught Harry before he hit the ground, his movements calm, deliberate.
"I prefer silence when adults are talking," he said dryly.
Quirrell tensed.
Voldemort's voice hardened.
"You've done well, boy. You have proven yourself beyond doubt. Severus's blood indeed… and cunning that outstrips even his."
Cassius looked up — and smiled faintly.
"What a failed Dark Lord."
The words struck like a curse.
"What did you say?" Voldemort hissed.
But Cassius moved first.
With casual precision, he threw Harry's unconscious body at him.
The boy collided with Quirrell who reflexively caught the body flung at him, and for a split second, nothing happened—
Then came the scream.
Raw.
Agonized.
Otherworldly.
Quirrels flesh quickly turned from its normal state into one of sand.
He tried to pull away, but the contact was already made — the curse spreading across his arms, his face, his chest.
"Master—help me!" he shrieked, clawing at his own skin. "What is this magic—!"
But no answer could come before Quirrel collapsed, leaving behind nothing more than simple sand, and empty clothes.
Next to them lay the unconcious form of potter.
Then came a ghoulful wail as a soul fragment emerged at first charging to Cassius only to be blocked by a simple first stage patronus charm, causing the wraith like being to be sent away howling as it went — a shapeless storm of black smoke, shrieking its rage before disappearing through the door.
"Begone, shade," he hissed, "and don't come back until you've learned how to stay alive."
Finally silence.
Cassius knelt by Harry's motionless form.
He pressed two fingers to the boy's neck — pulse steady, heartbeat strong.
Good.
With delicate precision, Cassius reached into Harry's pocket and slipped out the small, blood-warm weight of the Philosopher's Stone.
He held it between his fingers for a heartbeat — ruby light glinting like a captured sunrise — before tucking it into his own cloak.
A faint shimmer to his right.
The air shifted.
Cassius didn't even flinch as the disillusionment charm peeled away, revealing the tall, magenta robed figure who had been standing in the corner the entire time.
"Headmaster," Cassius said smoothly, bowing slightly, the faintest smirk touching his lips. "You took your time."
Dumbledore's gaze swept the carnage, then the boy kneeling beside the fallen 'hero'.
His eyes — ancient, sorrowful, and knowing — met Cassius's.
"You've been busy, Mister Snape," he said softly.
Cassius merely smiled.
"We should get him to the hospital wing."