Better Be Slytherin!

adamant that Harry was stunned for the space of a few heartbeats, leaving the Baron in complete control of his body. Rather than keep his control and fire off spells as rapidly as possible, however, he gave the reins back to Harry as soon as he could retake them.

That, more than anything else, made Harry believe him. Thanks, Harry thought, and tried to push whatever Snape was doing from his mind, even if the man was getting closer to the mirror and possibly the Stone.

Let me help, the Baron thought, and he put up a partial blockade to the worrying thoughts, leaving Harry's mind clear and focused on the fight. 'Petrificus Totalis!' Harry shouted, then, 'Protego!' as another spell headed for him. He sidestepped a second spell and cast another one silently.

The dark figure had stopped moving, now almost completely behind Quirrell/mort, which meant he was in Quirrell's line of sight. Just as Quirrell was saying, 'My Lord, behind you--' the dark figure cast a spell. Dark red light sped towards Quirrell/mort and he tried to dodge it but doing so placed him in the path of Harry's spell.

A frantic, 'Protego,' saved him, though not completely. A measure of the Stunner had gotten through, making him wobbly on his feet. A look of pure rage crossed the twisted face in the back of Quirrell's head and the creature screeched, a hate-filled cry that pierced the air like an arrow.

'Seize him, seize him!' Voldemort's high voice shrieked. Quirrell's body lunged -- backwards -- toward Harry.

Not expecting the physical attack, Harry stumbled back as Quirrell/mort reached him. He held up his hands as Quirrell grabbed his wrist. A splinter of pain went through Harry's head, as if splitting his scar in two. He and Quirrell both gave a cry, and Harry struggled as hard as he could to get out of the man's grasp. Quirrell let go, surprisingly, and cradled his hand, which appeared to be blistered and red.

When Voldemort cried for Quirrell to seize him again, Harry tried to shove the man away, pushing at Quirrell's face when Quirrell grabbed his neck. Quirrell's skin roiled beneath his hands, writhing and churning as blisters formed, grew large and burst in gobs of pus. The hands tightened around his throat, and there was a sudden lurching sensation, as if he were falling down, down into a pit . . . something tore loose inside him, like losing a limb. The Baron! He was gone, wrenched away, and the immediate backlash of pain threatened to whirl Harry away, too. He clenched his teeth and his hands as his chest burst open like a cherry . . . oh, Merlin it hurt so bad . . . and the blood poured out of him . . . and Harry's own neck sizzled and burned, as did the flesh beneath his hands. Quirrell/mort was on fire everywhere his skin touched Harry's. The smell of burnt meat threatened to make Harry vomit.

But he kept hold of the piteous, shrieking monster and hung on as it screamed and screamed forever . . .

And then the dark figure was crouched over him, with dark hair hanging in worried dark eyes. 'Harry, Harry, stay with me, you foolish child. Don't move . . .' A cold hand caught one of his burning ones and the relief made the world swim before his eyes. Only then did he realize the Quirrell/mort monster was gone.

'Where did he go?' he wanted to ask, but a glob of blood clogged his throat and made it impossible to croak out more than, 'Whey . . ?' He coughed, spraying blood on the man's robes. 'Sorr . . . sorr . . .'

'Shh, shh, Harry, don't talk. Save your strength.' The man's other hand held a wand which he waved this way and that. He pulled a vial from somewhere and opened it with his one hand. Harry had secure hold of the other; he could not let it go. 'Open up, child. It will be all right.'

Harry opened up; what else could he do? But he knew nothing would ever be all right. The liquid burned going down but then the warmth settled in his stomach and spread out to his arms and legs. His eyelids were so heavy they hurt, and he thought he might let them down, rest them, just for a moment. Just a little while. . . .

'Harry, no, not yet. Stay with me. . . Don't go . . . don't go, please . . .'

He hated to ignore the plea, but he really was very tired. With a soft, 'Sorry,' he let the blackness engulf him and pull him into its dark depths.

TBC . . .

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reads and/or reviews! Sorry this chapter has been so long in coming, but RL has hit me pretty hard of late. There are only a couple chapters left in this story, and then it will be on to Year Two!

There are several lines of description and Voldie dialogue that are snitched directly from JKR's Book One. See if you can pick them out!

*Chapter 50*: Chapter 50

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 50

By jharad17

--HPHPHPHPHPHPHP--

Previously on Better Be Slytherin:

Harry opened up; what else could he do? But he knew nothing would ever be all right. The liquid burned going down but then the warmth settled in his stomach and spread out to his arms and legs. His eyelids were so heavy they hurt, and he thought he might let them down, rest them, just for a moment. Just a little while. . . .

'Harry, no, not yet. Stay with me. . . Don't go . . . don't go, please . . .'

He hated to ignore the plea, but he really was very tired. With a soft, 'Sorry,' he let the blackness engulf him and pull him into its dark depths.

--HPHPHPHPHPHPHP--

Severus sat very still, as if he were balanced, teetering on the edge of a precipice. If he moved a muscle, he would fall and never stop falling. A bleak future of nothingness awaited him. It tempted him to tip over the edge and be done with it. Clasping his hands tight together in his lap, he resisted the urge. His fingers were white from lack of blood. He could not feel them.