Re:HP-A New Life

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter Fifty-Two: The Duel.

The chamber was dark and vast, with cold air pressing down like a weight upon Harry's chest. Ancient stone walls flickered in the dim light cast by the torch brackets on the far wall. The only sound was the faint crackle of dying flames, though the oppressive silence seemed to hum with foreboding.

Harry stood at the center, his wand firm in his grasp, facing Quirrell, who grinned with twisted delight. The man's eyes gleamed with malice as he pointed his wand directly at Harry.

"You're quite the nuisance, Potter," Quirrell sneered, venom dripping from each word. "But this ends tonight."

Before Harry could reply, Quirrell flicked his wand, sending a jagged bolt of dark purple light straight at him.

Harry didn't flinch. With instinctual precision, he twisted to the side, letting the curse miss by inches and scorch the stone wall behind him.

Quirrell snarled and launched another barrage of spells—curses, hexes, and blinding flashes of magical energy—but Harry moved like water, weaving gracefully through the onslaught. His wand flicked sharply, deflecting a curse with ease. Sparks flew, lighting up the chamber in bursts of violent color.

"You'll have to try harder than that," Harry said calmly, his voice steady.

Quirrell's frustration boiled over. With a guttural shout, he sent a powerful concussive blast toward Harry, the force cracking the stone floor. Harry conjured a shimmering shield charm in the blink of an eye, the blast dissipating harmlessly against it.

Sweat dripped down Quirrell's face as his breaths came ragged and uneven.

Harry seized the moment. "Expelliarmus!"

The red beam of light struck Quirrell square in the chest, sending him hurtling backward. He crashed into the wall with a sickening thud, his wand clattering to the floor and spinning across the chamber.

Quirrell groaned, dazed and sprawled against the stone.

Harry lowered his wand slightly, his expression impassive. "It's over."

The eerie silence that followed was broken by a slow, sinister chuckle.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as Quirrell's body stiffened unnaturally.

"You are remarkable, Harry Potter," a hissing voice sneered. "You remind me of myself at your age—clever, resourceful... powerful."

Harry's stomach churned as Quirrell's head twisted grotesquely, turning a full 180 degrees. The sight was horrifying, but Harry's grip on his wand never wavered.

Quirrell's body straightened unnaturally, as though puppeteered by some malevolent force. The back of his head, where pale, twisted skin had once hidden a nightmare, now fully revealed the grotesque face of Voldemort. His red, slitted eyes gleamed with malevolent delight.

"Now, let me show you true magic," Voldemort hissed, his voice a venomous whisper.

With a flick of Quirrell's hand, his wand soared back into his grip. Voldemort raised it high, conjuring serpents made entirely of roaring fire. They slithered through the air, their flames crackling and hissing as they lunged toward Harry.

Harry's wand moved in a graceful arc. "Evanesco!"

The fire serpents dissolved into smoke with a faint wisp, but Harry had no time to relax. Voldemort's wand flashed again, and a bolt of sickly green light hurtled toward him.

Harry rolled to the side, the Killing Curse narrowly missing him and striking the stone wall, leaving a scorched crater.

"You're nothing more than a boy with borrowed luck!" Voldemort snarled.

He transfigured the floor beneath Harry's feet into writhing vines that shot up to entangle him.

Harry leaped clear, landing with practiced ease. "Finite Incantatem!" he commanded, restoring the floor to its solid state.

The duel continued with relentless ferocity. Voldemort's curses sliced through the air, but Harry met each one with precision and control, deflecting or dodging as if the chaos were a carefully choreographed dance.

"You fight well," Voldemort admitted grudgingly. "But it won't save you."

Harry's face remained impassive. "We'll see."

Voldemort's attacks grew wilder, fueled by frustration. Quirrell's body was weakening, unable to sustain the dark magic coursing through it. Voldemort's movements became sluggish, his aim faltering.

"No!" Voldemort hissed, fury contorting his stolen face. "This body—it's failing me!"

Quirrell's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, his limbs twitching unnaturally.

The ghastly spirit of Voldemort began to rise from the crumpling form, an ethereal mist swirling with rage and hatred.

"You think this is over?" Voldemort's spectral voice echoed through the chamber. "I will return, stronger than ever. And when I do, you will beg for mercy."

Harry stood firm, his expression calm and resolute. "You won't win."

The dark spirit hissed venomously before fleeing through the cracks in the ancient stone walls, vanishing into the void.

Silence descended over the chamber.

Harry's gaze shifted to Quirrell's lifeless body. Dust and ash began to scatter across the floor as it disintegrated into nothingness, leaving no trace of the man who had once stood there.

The Mirror of Erised stood gleaming in the dim light, its surface reflecting Harry's steady gaze.

Harry approached it slowly, his reflection showing nothing but his determined expression.

Reaching inside the mirror, he retrieved the Philosopher's Stone, its blood-red hue shimmering ominously.

Without hesitation, Harry raised his wand. "Reducto!"

The Stone shattered into countless fragments, the ancient magic dissipating into harmless sparks that faded into the air.

Harry watched as the last remnants of the Stone disappeared into oblivion.

Taking a steadying breath, he turned toward the exit, his footsteps echoing through the now-silent chamber.

As he ascended the stone steps back toward the castle, Harry knew this wasn't the end.