What in Merlin's name was happening?!
Harry touched his neck while Voldemort clutched his arm, both bewildered by the same question.
Voldemort was beside himself with rage! Why couldn't he touch Harry Potter? What secrets was this boy concealing?
He immediately assumed this was another of Dumbledore's machinations - some protection placed upon Harry. Voldemort's expression darkened. Even after all these years, his hatred for that meddlesome old fool hadn't diminished!
Still plotting, still watching my every move!
Voldemort's eyes turned to ice.
That manipulative old codger! Who's the real Dark Lord here?!
Meanwhile, Harry examined his arm with delight. Since Voldemort seemed unable to touch him for some mysterious reason, this could work in his favor!
He could use this weakness to defeat him!
With Voldemort pinning him down to prevent escape, Harry quickly assessed the situation. He turned to Voldemort with a malicious grin.
Voldemort's heart lurched, his remaining left hand breaking out in goosebumps. He had a terrible premonition. The Killing Curse was no longer an option - the memory of its backfiring still burned fresh in his mind. His face contorted as he drew out the crowbar, preparing to strike.
The Philosopher's Stone might be beyond his reach now, but he would at least ensure Potter's demise!
But it was too late. Harry's vengeful hands had already seized Voldemort's serpentine face in an iron grip.
"Hngh! Hngh! AAAAHHHHHHH!" Voldemort let out blood-curdling screams. The crowbar clattered to the ground as his trembling hands covered his face, now erupting in blisters.
This only excited Harry more. Here was his chance - a golden opportunity to take down Voldemort single-handedly.
Voldemort violently rolled over, kicking Harry hard in the stomach. Harry's face contorted in agony from the blow, but he fought through the pain, grabbing Voldemort's leg and yanking up his robes to grip his ankle.
Fighting through the stabbing pain in his stomach, Harry felt all his hatred and rage towards Voldemort explode forth. A twisted grin spread across his face: "Scream! Go ahead and scream! Your screams only excite me more!"
It was hard to tell who the real Dark Lord was in that moment.
Voldemort: ...
Who's the real villain here?!
The searing pain from his foot washed away any further thoughts. Voldemort howled in agony, desperately reaching for the fallen crowbar.
To his horror, he discovered his broken body, now under assault from some unknown force emanating from Harry, could no longer move. Blood spurted from his shattered chest.
As he watched Harry crawling up his leg with a savage expression, apparently intent on forcing his hand into Voldemort's mouth, the Dark Lord finally snapped. Between his fractured soul and the terror of death, the thread of sanity in his mind broke.
Propping himself up with his remaining hand, body contorting and head thrown back, he let out a terrified scream:
"Stay away from me!!!"
Harry's hands finally locked around Voldemort's head in a death grip. At last, Voldemort steeled himself - he would abandon this body, but he refused to suffer such humiliation.
It was too shameful! The great Dark Lord, defeated twice by this wretched boy in such ridiculous ways!
Unable to endure any more, Voldemort gathered the last of his host body's strength and kicked Harry away, sending him crashing into the wall where he fell unconscious.
Quirrell's body then lost all signs of life.
After a moment, a black mist rose from Quirrell's corpse, forming Voldemort's face. He glared hatefully at the unconscious Harry, but as a mere soul fragment, he could do nothing - not even spit in contempt.
He could only flee bitterly toward the trapdoor exit.
If not now, when? He was just a soul fragment now, and due to his Horcruxes, his split soul was in terrible condition - even weaker than a common ghost.
Just as he was about to reach the trapdoor, he saw it open, revealing two small heads with their faces carefully concealed.
...
After using Transfiguration to conjure various instruments and enchanting them to play soothing lullabies, Glen and Hermione watched as Fluffy remained completely still.
Fluffy: laughs Completely knocked out.
The two had been eavesdropping at the trapdoor for quite some time. Since Harry and Voldemort's "battle" was taking place right below the trapdoor's passage, every sound carried up clearly to them.
With Glen's Supersensory Charm and Hermione's shared sensory connection, they had witnessed everything that transpired below as if watching a movie - they just needed popcorn and soda to complete the experience.
"Why does it seem like Voldemort's the one getting the worst of it?" Hermione's initially worried expression had grown increasingly complex, as the sounds and scenes they witnessed consisted mainly of Voldemort's inexplicable screams of pain and his pathetic attempts to escape Harry's assault, after their initial conversation.
"Dumbledore mentioned Harry carries ancient protection magic based on 'love' that his mother cast before dying," Glen theorized. It seemed the only possible explanation.
The two chatted while watching the "movie" unfold, both noting Voldemort's weakened state. Harry had only taken a kick - he would survive.
Finally, they saw Voldemort kick Harry away before collapsing himself. Moments later, a black mist rose up, bringing with it a bone-chilling cold.
The young girl startled, "What is that?!"
Glen had anticipated this, calmly answering her question: "Voldemort's soul fragment."
He instructed, "Hermione, stay alert, be ready to run. I'm going to attack his soul fragment."
The girl quickly composed herself, nodding seriously. During their earlier observation, they had already planned everything regarding Voldemort.
She would operate the trapdoor under Glen's direction.
Glen held his spell at the ready, white wand tip crackling with dark energy.
His constant research into soul magic over these months had finally yielded results - a spell capable of affecting souls.
It was unstable, with chaotic magical circuits.
But instability was exactly what he wanted in a spell designed to damage and negatively impact souls.
Through his enhanced senses, Glen could see Voldemort's soul fragment approaching the trapdoor.
Glen knew the moment had come.
"Hermione." Glen called softly.
"Right." The girl responded, forcefully lifting the trapdoor.
They were met with Voldemort's soul fragment wearing a shocked expression.
Glen cast his spell.
"Anima Concussio!"
If the Cruciatus Curse tortured the soul and the Killing Curse destroyed it, then Glen's Soul Concussion Spell was designed to violently shake the soul.
The black beam brutally pierced through Voldemort's soul fragment. He instantly felt as if his soul had been struck by a hammer, continuously vibrating and trembling. From Voldemort's perspective, even his vision blurred as the soul-deep agony forced an ear-piercing shriek from him.
Who dares ambush the great Dark Lord!
Voldemort raged impotently. He was merely a soul fragment now, completely powerless. Moreover, his attackers were wrapped in countless identity-concealing spells - in his weakened state, he couldn't even discern who they were.
He couldn't stay any longer!
Voldemort could feel his soul taking fresh damage, and his attacker's wand was gathering dark energy for another spell he'd never seen before.
Voldemort's soul fragment roared in fury as he burst through the locked wooden door Glen and Hermione had casually closed, vanishing into the dark corridor.
Glen calmly cancelled his spell, knowing a second Soul Concussion would never hit Voldemort now that he was on guard.
"Wow, is that it?" Clearly the situation wasn't as dangerous as Hermione had imagined. Glen shook his head, explaining: "He was already severely injured and in soul fragment form. This wasn't Voldemort's true power - that would have been far more dangerous. We're still not strong enough, we can't get careless."
Glen patted the girl's head.
"I know, I know." Hermione shook her head, trying to dislodge Glen's hand. Seeing this, Glen withdrew rather than persist.
They remained vigilant a while longer in case Voldemort attempted a surprise return. Only after confirming his presence had vanished from Hogwarts and waiting another half hour did Glen signal Hermione to relax.
With the danger passed, it was time to retrieve Harry and Weasley.
"Hermione, wait here. I'll go down and bring up Harry and Weasley," Glen told her.
"Don't you want my help? It should be safe down there now, right?" The girl tilted her head adorably, confused.
"...For some reason, I don't want them near you," Glen admitted honestly after a moment's silence.
"Oh~" Hermione gave him a meaningful look, drawing out the sound, appearing quite pleased.
"Oh~ Alright then, but take this - as a reward for earlier and encouragement."
The girl happily planted a kiss on Glen's cheek.
Glen touched his face thoughtfully, nodding to Hermione before jumping down through the trapdoor.
Hermione sat down, wearing a blissfully silly smile.
Perfect, Glen was showing jealousy! Was her dense boy finally starting to understand?
As Glen rapidly descended, his heart felt warm, the girl's kiss having dispelled the chill from encountering Voldemort.
He cast cushioning and slowing charms on himself as the ground approached.
Nearing the bottom, Glen spotted patches of black Devil's Snare. He pushed off the side wall with his toes, successfully avoiding the dark tendrils.
Rolling to his feet, Glen activated his enhanced senses to locate Harry unconscious by the wall and Weasley at his feet.
"Mobilicorpus." Without hesitation, Glen cast the spell.
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