Chapter -102.
"Why? Hermione, it should be you and Harry going; you're way more useful than I am!" Neville exclaimed, clearly frustrated.
"Hermione, you really know everything!" he added, recognizing her vast knowledge.
It was true; Hermione had earned her title of know-it-all. She had a treasure trove of information that surpassed even those who had grown up in the wizarding world. She could whip up the perfect spell for just about any situation.
"Listen, Neville," Hermione said gently, "You and Harry are the strongest when it comes to practical combat."
While Hermione had the brains, Harry and Neville were the muscle of the group. After some group lessons from the professors, Harry had shown off his incredible talent. He might not have been the fastest learner, but he was growing by leaps and bounds.
And Neville? Well, he had a knack for combat intuition, often mimicking Dudley's fighting style, even if he wasn't quite as strong.
Malfoy was also around, but he was currently out of commission.
As for Ron, this wasn't really his strong suit; he had his own ways of handling things.
"In terms of knowledge, you're not far behind me, especially you, Harry. Haven't you been studying on the down-low lately?" Hermione asked.
Harry, caught off guard, scratched his head sheepishly. He had indeed been hitting the books secretly. With more and more people calling Dudley "D-bro," he felt a little competitive. After all, he was the real younger brother!
It wasn't that he didn't want Dudley to be popular; it was just a little spark of jealousy bubbling up inside him.
Ron looked at Harry in disbelief. "Wait, haven't we all been hanging out together? How come I didn't know you were studying?"
Hermione took charge again: "Alright, Harry, Neville, it's up to you now! But don't overdo it; I think Dudley will be here soon."
Harry asked, "But what if we drink the potion? What about D-bro?"
"Dudley will figure something out; he always does!" Hermione replied confidently.
"Yeah, we're talking about him; he'll definitely come through," Harry and Neville agreed, nodding at each other.
So, they each took half of the potion and jumped through the fire wall.
Almost at the same time, an invisible shadow followed them in.
They found themselves in a spacious room, empty except for a mirror in the center. There was no door at the back, which meant this was the final room.
'Maybe we can finish this before D-bro shows up,' Harry thought.
"Harry, check out this mirror! Come here!" Neville shouted, pulling Harry from his thoughts.
Harry rushed over to see Neville staring intently at the mirror. He recognized it immediately; it was the same one he had seen during the Christmas holidays.
The Mirror of Erised.
"I see my parents! They're back!" Neville exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement and tears.
"Listen, Neville, that's not real!" Harry said quickly, trying to calm him down. "I saw my parents in there too, but it's just an illusion."
"Potter is right," a strange voice chimed in, and Harry turned to see a familiar yet unfamiliar figure in the corner.
It was Professor Quirrell, the only professor who hadn't given them extra lessons. The same one who had fainted from the troll scare during Halloween.
Now, he stood there with a completely different demeanor, no stutter in sight.
"I didn't expect to find you here, Potter," he said, glaring at Harry with a dark expression, trying to hide something behind him.
Wait, was Professor Quirrell the final test? Something felt off.
Suddenly, Harry's scar throbbed painfully, a burning sensation coursing through him, making him feel like his head might explode.
"Harry Potter!" a voice echoed, one that definitely didn't belong to Quirrell.
"Let me see him! Face to face!"
Quirrell's expression twisted as he struggled to speak, but the voice seemed to compel him. He slowly unwound the thick scarf around his head, revealing a distorted human face growing from the back of his head.
"Look at what I've become!" the twisted face spoke, its mouth moving in a horrifying way.
"Only shadows and steam are left, and it's all your fault, Potter!"
Voldemort—or what was left of him—was here.
"Because of you! It's all because of you that I'm stuck sharing a body with this pathetic excuse for a wizard!"
"But I never imagined you'd show up like this," Harry replied, trying to keep his cool.
Voldemort took control of Quirrell's body, raising a wand that conjured ropes out of thin air, binding Harry tightly.
Harry felt utterly helpless against this overwhelming force. His experience, magic, and knowledge were no match for Voldemort, even in this weakened state.
Voldemort scrutinized Harry, seeing nothing special about him: "Look at him, just an ordinary little wizard. Why... why could he defeat me, the powerful Dark Lord, eleven years ago?"
His voice dripped with confusion and anger, and his eyes burned with a desire for revenge.
This was his chance to finally eliminate Harry Potter.
While Voldemort was distracted, Neville quietly pulled some seeds from his pocket.
A spell hit Neville's wrist, scattering the seeds everywhere.
"Don't try to make any moves in front of me, little one," Voldemort warned, noticing Neville and narrowing his crimson pupils.
"Neville... Neville Longbottom!" he recognized, a flicker of unpleasant memories surfacing.
Wizards might not believe in science, but they believed in prophecies. And in the prophecy that foretold the Dark Lord's downfall, there was not just Harry, but another child who fit the criteria—Neville Longbottom.
Theoretically, one of them was destined to be the savior; it just happened that Voldemort chose Harry.
Voldemort looked at the two boys, a mix of doubt and panic creeping in.
'Could the prophecy be fulfilled again?!'
Would he have to choose again? And face defeat once more?
No! Absolutely not!
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Note : Guys, some power stones will be really motivating.