Professor Quirrell drew his wand and advanced steadily toward the corner where Tom and Hermione were hiding.
Tom yanked out a vial of potion and downed it in one gulp. "Hey, the second I move, you run that way—as far and as fast as you can, got it? Straight back to Hogwarts. Find Professor Snape and tell him Quirrell's got me pinned down."
The Polyjuice Potion hit like liquid fire. Tom clenched his teeth as white-hot agony tore through every nerve. It felt like fangs were erupting from deep inside his chest, ripping him apart from the core outward.
Finally, the transformation finished. Tom now looked exactly like "Hermione Granger."
That had been his last vial.
"I can't just leave you behind…" Hermione bit her lip hard. "We should face this together. Maybe I can actually help—"
"That's the wrong move, Hermione." Tom kept his voice calm, almost gentle. "When you know you're outmatched, you use the one real privilege humans have. We're pack animals, Hermione. Asking for help isn't embarrassing.
I've always done it. First day at Hogwarts, I didn't know a soul, so I went straight to Professor Snape for backup.
Professor Sprout's always happy to help because I helped her first. Connections are power too."
Tom gave her a light pat on the back. "Deep breath. Count down from five. Your turn."
Hermione looked reluctant but started whispering anyway.
"Five… four… three…"
Tom didn't wait for zero. He exploded out of cover.
He yanked the hood of his black cloak low over his eyes so Quirrell couldn't see the last ripples of the Polyjuice still shifting across his face—only the familiar bushy brown curls showed.
"Evening, you two old bastards. Hasn't even been two full weeks since our last chat, has it? What, you missed getting zapped again?"
Quirrell took half a step back, boots digging into the rotten floorboards.
"You deserve to die, Hermione Granger!" Quirrell roared, wand slashing forward. "Avada Kedavra!"
"Sectumsempra!"
Two beams of light slammed together and locked in a blazing stalemate.
"Looks like I still overestimated you, old man. Thought you'd recovered at least seventy or eighty percent by now. But this? Feels about the same level as any random professor."
Tom flicked his wand with a mocking little grin, staring them both down.
Inside Quirrell, pure shock exploded.
This was impossible!
How long had it been since they last faced this kid? A week? Two?
Back then he hadn't even mastered anything this strong. Now he was matching the Killing Curse blow for blow!
Tom gave his wand a lazy twirl. "Professor Quirrell, doesn't that heavy black robe get itchy after a while? You don't seriously still think I don't know who you really are, do you?
And you, Noseless Wonder on the back of his head—mind not staring? Remember what I told you last time, Professor? I hate being watched. The way you two are looking at me is seriously creepy and awkward."
"Enough talk—Avada Kedavra!"
"Sectumsempra!"
"Legilimens!!!"
Quirrell's lips curled into a triumphant smirk.
Success!
The Killing Curse had only been a distraction. The real strike was Legilimency!
He'd given "Hermione" private lessons before and knew her Occlumency was still weak.
There was no way she could resist.
If Professor McGonagall hadn't been there that day, he would have already torn through every memory!
Legilimens?
That familiar tug…
Tom quietly closed his eyes and let the probe rummage through his mind.
But no matter how hard Quirrell pushed, he couldn't break through that final fragile thread.
Quirrell ground his teeth.
He could feel "Hermione" was almost at her limit—just one thin line left.
She was about to break!
Just a little more!
Quirrell pushed even harder.
"Enough, you idiot. Can't you see you've been played?" Voldemort's voice hissed, low and furious. "He's toying with you."
Voldemort could see it clearly: Tom was completely messing with Quirrell.
What "almost"? There was still a mountain after that line, and an ocean after the mountain!
How had he ended up with such a stupid follower?
"Who are you?" Voldemort demanded.
"Who I am doesn't matter. What spell do you want to try next? I'll play along. Avada Kedavra again? Nah… since you already used Legilimens on me, it's only fair I return the favor."
"Legilimens!!!"
—Tom was 100 % bluffing.
Professor Snape had only taught him Occlumency. No way had he taught Tom Legilimency.
But the second Tom roared the incantation and thrust his wand high, a burst of black smoke yanked Quirrell backward, bolting for the exit.
"Heh. Trying to run?"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Cold sweat poured down Voldemort's face. "Faster! I refuse to fall to this brat twice in one lifetime!"
Quirrell bit down hard and glanced back.
Damn it, the little monster was catching up again.
"Master, I'm sorry…"
"I told you to run!"
But it was too late. Tom dropped from above like a meteor and stomped Quirrell into the ground.
"Now let's see you escape. Sectumsempra!"
"No!!!"
Death never came. Quirrell squeezed his eyes shut in despair, only to be met with searing heat all over his body.
Of course Tom didn't know the Killing Curse. All he had was Incendio and Sectumsempra.
"Sectumsempra!"
Emerald beams sliced across Quirrell like invisible razors, carving his skin open, sealing it, then carving it open again.
"AAAAAHHH—!!!"
Several figures plummeted from the sky and landed beside Tom.
The white-bearded elder—Albus Dumbledore—glanced calmly at Quirrell writhing on the floor.
"Hermione, when we get back you're going to tell me exactly what happened here."
Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, and Dumbledore had all arrived… everyone except Professor Snape.
Surrounded by the professors, Quirrell rolled around clutching his chest, blood spraying from his mouth.
"Can I leave the rest to you, Professors? I'm a bit tired." Tom pressed a hand to his forehead, looking utterly drained.
"Of course. Pomona, please take Hermione back first."
Professor Sprout nodded. She wrapped Tom in a tight, worried embrace and led him away.
"Oh, my child, are you alright? I was so terrified—when I saw Hermione appear in front of me saying you'd run into You-Know-Who, I thought my heart would stop.
You did so well, sweetheart. Though you shouldn't have taken such a dangerous risk… maybe there was a better way, but I… I'm just so grateful. Merlin, thank you for bringing Tom back to us safely, back to Hogwarts. Thank you, Merlin…"
Tears shimmered in Professor Sprout's eyes. She had genuinely thought she was going to lose him.
Thank goodness. God was watching over them.
"Tom, are you hurt anywhere?"
Tom smiled and shook his head. "You're worrying too much, Professor Sprout. I'm fine.
It was just You-Know-Who, and not even at full strength. You know how weak he still is—otherwise he wouldn't have to sneak around like this just to find me."
"Still, child, I'm taking you straight to the hospital wing for a full check-up."
After a complete examination, Tom was perfectly fine—aside from the usual Polyjuice side effects, there wasn't a single scratch on him.
…
Meanwhile, outside the Shrieking Shack.
Quirrell was in absolute agony on the ground.
"Quirinus Quirrell, I never imagined you would turn out to be this kind of person." Professor McGonagall's eyes were ice-cold, spit flying in her fury.
They had all seen the second face on the back of his head—that nightmare-inducing face.
Voldemort!
"Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light shot from the distance. The professors quickly retreated.
"Vulnera Sanentur!!!"
The wounds from Sectumsempra could only be healed with its specific counter-curse. Until then, the victim would suffer excruciating pain.
Quirrell suddenly scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the distant shadow.
"Don't pursue him!" Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping the others. "Let the enemy retreat. We'll have another chance."
McGonagall snorted. "Albus, humanity is facing another crisis. We can now confirm that You-Know-Who has returned. If not for Tom, who knows what would have happened."
"Let's head back. I have questions for Tom."
…
"Ah—" Tom opened his mouth. Beside him, Hermione looked disgusted as she popped a grape into it.
"You should've just left me there and come back by yourself…" Hermione was filled with guilt.
Tom had lost both arms—permanently, it seemed.
"It's fine. I can still cast magic without a wand. Hermione, you don't seriously think losing my arms means I can't beat you anymore, do you? Underestimating me?"
Hermione sighed.
She didn't know whether to call him mentally strong or just plain weird…
She had never seen anyone lose both arms and still smile so brightly, acting like some kind of little hero.
"This one's too sour. Got anything sweeter?"
Hermione carefully picked one out. "Try this?"
"Whatever I say, you just do it? You like me that much? Secretly in love with me? Nice, Hermione. I treat you like my best friend and here you are trying to change your last name to Riddle!"
"I do not! I just feel bad for you! Eat by yourself then!" Hermione's face flushed red as she set the fruit plate aside.
Tom shrugged. "I have no hands. How am I supposed to eat? You know how scary You-Know-Who is. It was terrifying."
Hermione quietly picked the plate back up.
"Mr. Riddle. Miss Granger!" Snape's icy voice suddenly rang out behind Hermione. "Perhaps you two would like to explain what exactly you're doing?"
"Professor Snape!" Hermione panicked. "Tom—he ran into You-Know-Who and lost both his arms."
"You foolish boy. Tom, it's time to go. Albus wants to see you. Granger, you're coming too!"
Tom flipped off the bed with ease. "Got it."
Two perfectly uninjured arms slipped out from his sleeves…
Hermione: "???"
---