Better Be Slytherin!

'Show yourself!' Harry called.

'Why, Harry Potter,' the voice crooned. Harry craned his neck to see where it was coming from. 'Such a forceful little boy. I shall enjoy killing you tonight.'

Put up your left hand, the Baron thought, so we can have a shield ready.

'So you've said,' Harry taunted as he casually followed the Baron's instructions. He moved slowly forwards, too, to be in better range for throwing spells. 'But so far . . . nada.'

'A fact that shall be remedied shortly. Kill him!'

'But, Master, the Stone!' Quirrell complained.

'We shall retrieve it once he is dead.'

'But I cannot figure out how,' Quirrell whined, and Harry wondered how on earth Professor Snape ever got along with this loser.

Apparently Voldemort was thinking along the same lines. 'Shut up, you loathsome, disgusting worm. I cannot bear to be saddled with you a moment longer. Turn around and let me see the boy.'

'Master, you are not strong enough!'

'I have strength enough . . . for this . . .'

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

'Harry Potter...' it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

'See what I have become?' the face said. 'Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds.... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own....

'I had hoped,' the face continued, its tone almost cozening, 'when I learned you had come to Slytherin, that you might aid me in my quest to correct all that is wrong, all that is hurting the Wizarding world. I want you to stop this ridiculous fight, and help me retrieve the Stone. Better to save your own life and join me, else you'll come to the same end as your parents.... They died begging me for mercy...'

'LIAR!' Harry shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward toward him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

'How touching...' it hissed. 'I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave.... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you.... Now help me find the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain. Such deaths are unavoidable in times of war, Potter. You must realize this.'

'Unavoidable? You tracked them down and killed them. You tried to kill me, too. I was just a baby!'

'An unfortunate turn of events, yess.'

Quirrell was only steps away from Harry now, and Harry stared into the misshapen face of his worst enemy. Unfortunate? Unavoidable? Who is he trying to kid?

You, of course, thought the Bloody Baron softly.

Well, it's not working.

Good, and once again, Harry could feel the Baron smile.

In that moment, a spell leapt toward Harry from Quirrell's wand. Almost instantly, a thought of Protego from the Baron and a twitch of Harry's wand created a blockade. The Professor's spell skittered off into a wall where it exploded, blasting off chips and shards of stone.

'I thought you wanted to be friends!' Harry cried. 'Friends don't blast friends to smithereens!'

'What need has Lord Voldemort for friends, you impudent little boy?' the Dark Lord inquired while casting another spell.

Harry countered it again and zipped off an Expelliarmus, which Quirrell/mort dodged.

'No wonder your minions despise you.' The Baron cast a non-verbal spell that Harry only caught the last part of in his mind even as a bright yellow light sped toward Quirrell.

'They fear me and my power!' Quirrell/mort snapped up a shield that absorbed the yellow light instead of reflecting it. 'They know I am the most powerful Dark Lord who has ever lived!'

'You call that living?' Harry asked and laughed as he cast another spell.

Movement out of the corner of his eye briefly caught his attention before the Baron physically forced him to look away. But he had seen a dark, shadowy figure creeping around behind Quirrell/mort, as if it would attack the Professor from behind. That was fine with Harry. Unless . . . unless it was someone after the Stone? Like Snape? The height was right, the walk . . .

Cease speculating, Harry Potter. I am telling you this for the last time. You must trust me. Professor Snape is not attempting to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. The ghost's internal voice was so