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Quirrell stepped back from the Mirror of Erised, his eyes locked greedily on the reflection inside.
"I see the Stone... I'm giving it to my master... but where is it hidden?"
Harry struggled desperately against the ropes binding him, but the more he fought, the tighter they became. He had to distract Quirrell, keep his attention off the mirror.
"Why can't I figure this out? Is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I just smash it?" Quirrell muttered, tapping the glass impatiently after several failed attempts.
"What's wrong with this mirror? What does it actually do? Help me, Master!"
Harry's blood ran cold when he heard a voice reply—chilling and eerie—as if it came from inside Quirrell himself.
"Use the boy... use the boy..."
Quirrell turned toward Harry. "Alright—Potter—come here."
Augustus, who had been quietly watching, finally showed a flicker of surprise. That voice... it matched the one he'd heard in the Forbidden Forest. So that explains the chaotic, conflicting aura from that day. If he was right...
He clapped his hands again, and the ropes binding Harry suddenly fell away. Harry slowly got to his feet.
"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look into the mirror. Tell me what you see."
Harry walked toward it, thinking frantically.
I'll have to lie to him, he thought. I'll look into the mirror and just make something up. That's the only way.
Quirrell came up behind him. Harry caught a strange smell—something off-putting, like it was coming from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and then opened them.
He saw his own reflection. At first, he looked pale and scared. But after a moment, his reflection smiled. The Harry in the mirror reached into his pocket, pulled out a bright red stone, then winked and slipped it back into his pocket.
At that exact moment, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket.
Unbelievable... I actually got the Stone.
Augustus's eyes focused on Harry's pocket. Through his magical sight, he could clearly sense the surge of powerful magic energy—it had entered Harry's pocket. So this was Dumbledore's plan all along.
Even without Augustus tagging along with Harry and the others, the boy would've eventually obtained the Stone. This whole journey was both a test and a trial... and clearly designed to push Harry. Dumbledore had really gone all out for him.
"Well?" Quirrell asked impatiently. "What do you see?"
Harry took a deep breath.
"I see... I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he lied quickly. "I—I've just won the House Cup for Gryffindor!"
"He's lying. He's lying!"
"Potter! Come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you really see?"
That sharp voice spoke again.
"Let me speak to him... face to face."
"But Master, your strength hasn't returned yet!"
"I have enough strength for this."
Harry wanted to scream but found himself completely voiceless. On the back of Quirrell's head, where there should have been nothing, a face had formed.
Harry had never seen anything more terrifying—chalk-white skin, glowing red eyes, and snake-like slits for nostrils.
"Harry Potter," the face whispered.
Augustus's eyes darkened with a hint of regret. So, his guess was right. Voldemort now existed as a parasitic being, clinging to life by feeding on unicorn blood and enduring a cursed existence. For someone who was once a legend, surviving like this—barely more than a ghost—was worse than death.
Harry wanted to run, but his legs were frozen in place.
"Look at what I've become," the face said. "Just a shadow... vapor. I can only exist by sharing someone else's body. But some people are always willing to let me in... into their minds, into their hearts. The unicorn blood has helped me regain a bit of strength these past weeks. You saw Quirrell drinking it for me that night in the forest. But once I have the Elixir of Life, I'll be able to create a body of my own again. Now... hand over the Stone in your pocket."
He knows!
Harry's legs suddenly came back to life. He stumbled backwards.
"Don't be stupid," the face hissed. "You should save your own life. Join me. Or you'll end up like your parents. They begged me for mercy before they died."
"You're lying!" Harry shouted.
Quirrell began advancing, backing Harry toward the black door—keeping Voldemort's face in view.
"How touching," the voice rasped. "I've always admired bravery. Yes, child, your parents were brave. Your father died fighting me—never begged, never backed down. Your mother didn't have to die... she chose to, to protect you. Now give me the Stone. Don't let her sacrifice be for nothing."
"Never!" Harry turned and tried to run for the black door.
"It ends here." A calm voice rang out as Augustus stepped forward. He canceled his invisibility spell, and his tall, elegant form appeared in the center of the room. A blast of heat and cold swept over the space like a storm front.
"You?" Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed. "I find it hard to believe a Slytherin would care so much about a Gryffindor. What a waste of magical talent—reduced to being Dumbledore's errand boy."
Augustus smiled casually. "It doesn't matter whether I'm someone else's pawn or not. As long as I follow my heart, trust my instincts, and walk the path I choose... then every decision becomes a step forward on the road to true magic. Freedom, flow, living without too much overthinking—that's the path I seek."
"Brilliant!" Voldemort clapped softly, a faint grin curling his lips. "To have such clarity at your age is remarkable. Your magical talent aside, the key to becoming a legend is forging a path no one else has walked. And in you, I already see the shadow of greatness.
As your senior from Slytherin... allow me to wish you a legendary future."
A flicker of genuine admiration passed through Augustus's silver eyes. Even in his current wretched form, this former legend possessed a grandeur few from any world could match.
As a rival, Voldemort had already surpassed most of the so-called great mages from other realms.
"Let's begin. I hope this time we can go all out."
Augustus drew his silver wand. The air in the room began to churn—heat and cold crashing into each other. Whirling gusts of wind stirred up around them. Ice crystals and sparks of fire blinked into existence, floating like stars.
Around Augustus, droplets of red and white light shimmered and flickered, glowing and fading. A heavy tension settled over the room.
The battle was about to explode.
"....."