Chapter 11: One Killing Curse Does a Killer Make

Harry made his way to Quirrell's classroom quietly, his cloak shimmering around him, hiding him from the gaze of late-night prefect patrols. His wand out, he used his other hand to press the door open, surprised to see the older man sitting at his desk at the front of the room, head in his hands. He shut the door behind him and threw off his cloak, "Good evening, Professor." Snape always had said he loved to make a dramatic entrance.

Quirrell's eyes shot up, "P-P-Potter, wh-what are you d-d-doing here?" Harry grimaced at the man's fake stutter.

"Really Professor, I thought you would've been able to guess after the incident on Halloween. I don't trust you. I know what you're letting leech off of your body." Harry raised his wand a fraction, ready for however Quirrell may react.

There was silence for a moment before Quirrell's lips quirked up at the edges, an uproarious laugh ejecting from his mouth. "How dare you, boy? You presume to know my secrets?" His stutter forgotten, Quirrell pushed on, standing, "Halloween was ruined because of you. Such carefully laid plans, with nothing to show for it." Here the man grew angry, "Do you know how it was for me because of that? To have to retreat to stew in my failure with just myself and-"

"Lord Voldemort? Yourself and Lord Voldemort, is that what you were going to say?" Harry spoke a bit louder, his voice unwavering in confidence. He was ready for this. "Why don't you show yourself to me, then? Or is the mighty Dark Lord not so mighty after all?"

"Ahhhh, Harry... I wondered when we would truly meet." A cold and distant-sounding voice echoed off the walls of the room.

Quirrell's hands began to shake, "Master please, you are not strong enough..." The man looked just as troubled and weak as Harry remembered when he had tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone. He wondered briefly how Quirrell had become a follower of the Dark Lord.

"I am strong enough, for this," the voice hissed. Quirrell unwrapped his turban, pale fingers illuminated in the dull candlelit classroom unfurling the long, thin fabric, tossing it to the side. His head was disproportionately bulbous, just as Harry remembered and as the older man turned around, revealing Lord Voldemort's deformed face on the reverse of his skull, Harry stamped down the anger he felt. This man was the reason for everything, the reason everyone had died, the reason he had lost... everything. Not this time.

Harry's fingers tightened around his wand, extending the holly wood further out toward the half-man that stood before him. He knew the image he presented, an overly confident eleven-year-old, standing in front of Lord Voldemort, not a year of formal training under his belt yet. However, as Harry had long since learned, not everything is always as it appears.

"Look at you Harry, it's been too long. Since you were just a young little thing. Why have you come to me?" Red eyes squinted, out of curiosity or an inability to see him at that distance Harry wasn't sure.

"You shouldn't have come back to Hogwarts, Tom." Now that surprised him. A hiss and then, "How dare you? That is no longer my name! Quirrell, dispose of this boy, this, plague to my cause." Quirrell's body rotated again, and those pale fingers disappeared into his robe to draw out his own wand.

Tensing slightly Harry flourished his wand, "Sectumsempra!" Quirrell's eyes widened as he quickly erected a strong shield charm which shattered when the curse connected.

A shrill hiss resounded, "The boy knows far too much, magically and about me, kill him!"

Harry rolled to the side, dodging a jet of red light. Quirrell's arm rose and his lips parted to utter, "Avada Ke-"

"Stupefy!"

Harry's spell flew first and Quirrell's words never finished escaping his mouth. The wizard collapsed, stunned. Harry's ears perked at the low cursing he heard, apparently the spell had stunned Quirrell but left Voldemort conscious. Moving of their own accord, Harry's legs carried him forward, passing the wooden desks of the classroom and reaching the still body of his professor. "There are so many things I want to say to you, Tom." Silence. "And I dearly hope I never get the chance after this moment. So if I don't... I'll just say that I'm sorry for what you are and what you will become." Harry thought back to the inept form from his illuminating time at King's Cross Station. "I'm sorry for everything that happened that made you what you are, but as a wise man once told me, it is our choices that define us. I'm afraid to say you've made the wrong choices, Tom." Harry lifted his arm to point at Quirrell's head rather than his body. He couldn't risk Voldemort surviving, as he hadn't been hit by the stunning spell. He whispered softly, like a lullaby, "Avada Kedavra." Bright green shot out of his wand and connected. He waited, listening only to the sound of his heavy breathing.

He had killed a man. This wasn't like any of the battles Harry had been in before, when he had stunned or knocked out his opponents. He had killed a man just now, in cold blood, and he felt no remorse. Was this what he was meant to change? Had he been meant to be, all along, a killer?

The moment passed, his chest heaving, Harry struggled to turn over Quirrell's body, and saw only a charred mass on the back of his head. He had succeeded. That's all that mattered.

Looking around the room, Harry nodded once. Time to take care of the loose ends. He couldn't have Quirrell's body being discovered, it would generate too many questions far too soon. "Locomotor." He lifted his ex-professor's body and moved it up into the man's office. He then began gathering Quirrell's personal things and, casting an undetectable extension charm on one of the man's smaller bags, he proceeded to levitate all of the items, Quirrell included, into the bag. He tightened the string around the pouch's opening and shrunk it to fit into his pocket. He would have to get rid of this as soon as was safe. For tonight, however, he had done enough. The rest of the year would, with any luck, pass by uneventfully. He put his cloak back on and, repairing a desk that had broken in the scuffle, returned to the tower. Sleep did not come, rather a burning image of green light leaving his wand kept him from his dreams.

Over the next week things went easily, and luck seemed to be on his side. The sudden disappearance of Quirrell had raised suspicions of course, but when his things were discovered missing as well, it was generally agreed that he had rushed abroad somewhere to further his research or for some emergency. Either way the only party that looked truly concerned was Snape, constantly wittering away into Dumbledore's ear about some conspiracy or another having to do with Quirrell.

The one thing Harry had been especially concerned about was the lack of a proper DADA teacher with Quirrell gone, however Professor McGonagall seemed to fit the extra teaching into her schedule just fine and so she took over for the remaining weeks. With her as their professor, Harry was hopeful that more students than ever might pass their end of year exams.

However Harry was still haunted by his actions. He would wake in a cold sweat more than once, not just from nightmares of his friends dying anymore, but from nightmares of his own destruction, of himself killing Voldemort and Quirrell. He still had the bag with his body inside and his things, it would be too dangerous to dispose of it while still on Hogwarts grounds, that much he was sure of. He would have to wait until he returned to the Dursleys to get rid of it.

Exams finally over, everyone trudged back to their common rooms, relief or defeat evident on many students faces. Hermione ran over to Harry, face scrunched up, "Oh I know I answered the question on the theory behind levitation wrong, I just know it!"

Harry grinned, "I'm sure you passed with flying colors, Hermione. Look, here comes Draco. Hey, Draco,"

The blonde boy inclined his head, "Hey, Harry, Miss Granger. Blaise is headed back down to the dungeons, he's really depressed about that last test. Exams were brutal, huh?" Hermione nodded fiercely while Harry barked out a laugh.

"Oh, lighten up you lot! They're over now, let's move on to bigger and better things. Italy for example?" Harry flicked a piece of imaginary lint off of his robes and sat down underneath a large tree in the courtyard. "Do you want to meet there or are we going together?"

Hermione hummed, "My parents said that if meeting there is more convenient we can do that, or they'll buy us all plane tickets to go with them. Do you two have a preference?"

Harry looked over at Draco. The other boy's face was a mass of confusion. "I for one would love to go on a plane. I've only been on one once and it was loads of fun. It's just like flying, Draco, but instead of being on a broom everyone is sitting down in a room that flys, called an airplane."

Draco gulped before putting on an air of knowledge, "Of course, I know what a plane is, Harry. An airplane ride sounds lovely, er shall we meet at the plane directly or beforehand?" His eyes darted back to Hermione, who was very successfully holding in her laughter at Draco's reaction to the plane discussion.

"How about you both come to my house the day we leave? I'm going to be hooking my parent's fireplace up to the floo network this summer so it should be easy for you to arrive Draco. As for you Harry," Hermione tore a piece of parchment off from an essay she'd gotten back the other day and scribbled something down on it, "Here's my address. I know the Dursley's don't use the floo."

Harry nodded, grateful. "I've never really gone on holiday before. I'm honestly really looking forward to this. I..." Harry looked between Hermione and Draco nervously, his tongue darting out to moisten his dry lips, "I'm really glad we're all friends. I never thought this would be such a good year."

His companions looked at him, smiles growing on their faces. Draco patted his knee lightly, "We had best get to packing now, Harry. Wouldn't want to miss the train home. I've heard they make you ride thestrals home if you do." He shivered for effect.

Harry laughed. Maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad after all.

Hey all, so I know this chapter might have felt a bit rushed but I'm trying to speed up the first few years so that we can really move on to bigger and better things later in the story. Hopefully y'all don't mind and we can get to some romance action sooner haha, tho it definitely won't happen until Harry's body is a bit older. Thanks!