The-Two-Faced-Man.

It was Quirrell.

- You? - Harry exclaimed, feigning surprise. Quirrell smiled. There was no tic on his face.

- I... - He answered calmly. - I've been wondering if I'd find you here, Potter.

- But... what? And Snape... - Harry had to stop himself from laughing at the smug style of his teacher, who had no inkling of reality.

- Severus? - Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual shaky laugh, it was cold and cutting, almost as if he were someone else. - Yes, Severus is the type, isn't he? So useful to have him flying around like a bat. Next to him, who would suspect c... c... poor little stuttering P.... Professor Quirrell? - He had ended up pretending to be the fearful and sheepish Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

- But Snape tried to kill me! I saw that when I invested against him and accidentally hit you in that Quidditch match. - Harry explained with a "perplexed" face.

- No, no, no. I tried to kill you, kid! I even thought you'd found me out when you took off my turban... but no, I think I've overestimated a half-blood first-year. - Quirrell said everything as if it were commonplace, even as if he didn't have the soul to understand what was right and wrong. - I would have gotten it if Snape hadn't kept muttering a counter-spell, trying to save him at every turn.

- Snape was trying to save me? - Harry muttered to himself, but this time he was really surprised.

- "I guess that does make sense." - Harry thought about Snape's first questions in his first potions lesson and the meaning behind them.

- Of course. - Quirrell said calmly. - Why do you think he wanted to referee the next game? He was trying to make sure I didn't repeat that. Which is actually funny... He didn't even have to bother. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching.

- All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he really did manage to make himself unpopular, actually doing far more for one student than any teacher at this school has ever done.

- And what a waste of time, if after that I'm going to kill him tonight. - Quirrell said, with Harry closing his eyes. - It didn't matter about Dumbledore, it didn't matter about Hogwarts. My master will be completely immortal, with the Elixir of Life in his possession. And, I... I will be remembered as the right-hand man of the greatest Dark Lord, never again will the old Quirrell be remembered. - Quirrell proclaimed, with Harry smiling internally at finally understanding something.

- So... what do you hear with Quirrell? I mean, the real one? - Harry asked in confusion.

- Oh... well, that's a shell, although he wasn't perfect, it was a good choice to have someone so familiar with the dark arts to teach him how to defend himself against them. And let's face it... it wasn't that hard to break into Hogwarts and make a mess of the dungeons with the Dark Lord right under Dumbledore's nose.

- But to get to the point, Quirrell is in here... surrounded by a fog of darkness, let's just say that a possession might not leave a great feeling and a soulless husk can't understand common sense or petty things like kindness, compassion or evil. - The supposedly evil Quirrell explained, with him turning to the mirror there in the room, illuminated by the flames.

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quilldemort. It was the Mirror of Ojesed:

- This mirror is the key to finding the stone. - Quilldemort murmured, tapping the frame lightly. - You can trust Dumbledore to come up with something like that, but he's in London... and I'll be long gone when I get back.

Quilldemort walked around, analyzing, and when he came out from behind the mirror, he turned back to look, full of greed, at whatever was being reflected.

- I see the Stone... I see my master back in his ascension, as he was before his first fall... but how am I supposed to get it?

- You know... as much as you say and say again that you're the target of a possession... or the Dark Lord himself. I don't believe it. - Harry said, with Quilldemort's features sharpening as he saw him through the reflection of the mirror. - I don't believe that Voldemort is alive, I don't believe that you are him, I just see a little teacher with a dull little life, who has a sinister dual personality.

At every moment, his forehead burned and hurt like hell, but Harry had already been through more pain than that, interrupting his focus right now.

- Who says I'm the master? No... what I am, is a renewed Quirrell. - He said, grinning maniacally. - I was a fool when I was roaming the world five years ago. I was a foolish boy back then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Powerful by common wizarding standards, but weak enough mentally to understand that power is what matters. No matter where it comes from or what it costs to obtain.

- I even let the old Quirrell have control occasionally... to give his ridiculous lectures, stutter down the corridors, and oh... when he failed to steal the stone from Gringotes, he got very frightened. The master had to punish him, and from then on it was just me doing most of the time. - Quilldemort continued to say as his voice died away, and it seemed that his focus was as much on debating with the first person who defeated his master as it was on trying to obtain the stone in the mirror.

- "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it, should I steal the mirror from the master?" - Quirrell of Darkness thought as he touched the mirror, trying to obtain the stone he coveted so much.

- You know... on that day when you say you failed to get the stone... would you believe that I was the one in the bank, and next to me was someone who took the stone just before the invasion? - Harry said, attracting the full attention of the supposed Dark Quirrell.

And to Harry's surprise, a different voice answered, one that was agonizing to hear, full of hatred and evil, like that of souls wailing in hell, just like in the films he had heard in his aunt and uncle's house.

- Use the boy... now! - The voice dictated in order, with the evil Quirrell immediately glaring at him.

- Potter, come here! Or I swear I'll destroy your heart. - Quilldemort said, abruptly pulling Harry away. - Look in the mirror and tell me what you see.

Quilldemort approached Harry from behind. Harry breathed in the strange smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban, very similar to sulphur. He closed his eyes, moved forward to prostrate himself in front of the mirror and opened them as a slight tremor took hold of his body from the recent horrifying voice he had heard.

Harry's mind was racing and then he focused his attention on the mirror. Harry could see an image of himself, it was strange, he had completely black eyes, long hair and strong muscles, his smile was predominant, and in his hand he was twirling a red stone. Around him on a large bed, Rhitta Skeeter, Nynphadora Tonks and Andromeda Tonks could be seen, completely sprawled out in pure pleasure.

His own image, which looked more demonic through his eyes, winked with a biased laugh and returned the stone to his overcoat pocket, and as he did so, Harry felt something heavy fall into his pocket. Somehow, unbelievably, he was in possession of the Stone.

But why was he with her? He didn't want her for his own use, as shown in the mirror, he wanted her to stop Voldemort from capturing her and returning to his peak as Dark Lord. And somehow the image in the mirror didn't refer to any of this, especially when several other women's presences appeared, but completely hidden in the darkness, not allowing him to know exactly who they were.

And that's when things started to change in his favor.

The pocket where the Philosopher's Stone was was where Fyexbolt had been dozing, and she had woken up at the intrusion of the object falling on her.

His faithful partner seemed to peck at the Stone curiously and soon several ideas popped into Harry's mind. He felt more confident about the situation, knowing that he was in possession of the Stone. His Wand of Destiny vibrated in pure excitement in his arm, practically begging to be used.

And that's how Harry finally listened:

- So? - Quilldemort asked impatiently. - What do you see?

Harry, armed with courage and a self-confidence that his enemy's plans were being broken little by little. Then he turned, where he smiled face to face with Quirrell of the Dark. He could feel his breath close to his face, and they both stared at each other.

- Do you really want to know the truth? - Harry asked under the threatening gaze of the former Hogwarts stutterer. - Right... let's say there's a bed, and in that bed there are three beautiful women, they're extremely hot and they're partially passed out from the pleasure that my own reflected image has given them.

- I hold the Philosopher's Stone, my eyes as black and dark as those of a demon. My smile is wry, as if I had defeated my dear enemy and fallen Dark Lord last night.

- And that's it... I think I won, again. - Harry said, smiling sarcastically, under the gnashing teeth of the soulless professor. - Your pathetic existence changes nothing, your time is up and you've lost, old man.

Feeling the intention to kill Quilldemort there as he stared at him without moving a muscle, Harry soon heard a song starting to ring in his ears.

Smiling at having prepared himself for this, Harry soon entered his mental space, and soon noticed Quilldemort sitting in a chair at a computer desk. He found everything there strange and seemed to be trying to understand what that electronic machine was.

The music, which got louder and louder as the seconds went by, was unbearable for the soulless shell of a teacher, as it seemed to grow louder and louder and flooded his ears with an annoying sound that took his focus away, and then, to complete his mistake, Quilldemort touched the computer mouse and clicked it randomly, seemingly trying to turn the machine on.

Only for this to cause a long-awaited effect for Harry, a famous blue screen of death appeared on the square computer monitor.

And only with the knowledge of such a problem solution could their memories be formatted without a problem.

It really was his best idea of the year, to create a mental defense for a system that was weak and simple compared to the No-mag, but extremely complex against witches and wizards who had no understanding of the advanced technologies of the society they were so hostile to.

- It's no use, you lost. - Harry said sarcastically as he watched the man get up, abruptly knocking over his chair in the process. The blue screen that had previously been on the computer had now grown across the sky around them and shattered into thousands of pieces.

The music getting louder, the electronic beats resounding sonically like the defensive effects of an invisible patron that shook the whole ground, his enemy's difficulty in staying focused in an environment that was extremely hostile to him, made his focus lose with everything affecting him.

And when the last shard of glass fell to the ground and darkness prevailed, it was soon possible to see that it had a physical form.

Harry had created everything not with powerful magic or advanced magical understanding, but with basic No-mag complexity, which was the perfect factor against the ignorance of magical society.

A method of creating a mental defense that hid your true mental defense.

A complex computer system for wizards, which, when misused, set the trap for Harry's Obscurial entity to attack with all its power and hostility.

And so Quilldemort soon fell to his knees on the ground, his ears bleeding. He was sweating like mad and gnashing his teeth furiously at being caught in this trap.

He should have known that Potter would never look lightly and directly into the eyes of an enemy such as this weak society had shown itself to be so vulnerable.

The dark entity around him seemed to waste away at the mere touch, the soundtrack bursting his eardrums and preventing him from concentrating.

And so it all faded away under the last smug laugh of the Boy-Who-Lived, who, unlike anything he had ever challenged, had the ability to Expand Mental Dominance, something he himself had created and which was being played against him, not by brute power, but by a complex trap he had fallen into when he sat down at that table with the strange machine.

[ ... ]

Back on the real plane, Harry promptly drew his blade, along with Fyexbolt's suit slung over his shoulder, with the Philosopher's Stone stuck in its beak, which was perfectly suited to the task at hand.

Harry had mumbled something to her while holding up his standard wand, and he had just heard it when a loud, whining voice interrupted, although Quirrell's lips weren't moving.

- He's lying... I didn't lose... I am Lord Voldemort! You can't lose twice to a weak and naive child, an Obscurial and traumatized entity like that.

- Potter, come back! - Quilldemort shouted. However, he soon noticed something on Harry's shoulders. - What's that? You fucking boy, how did you get the Stone? - Quirrell of Darkness continued to exasperate in anger, ready to charge towards Harry with wand in hand.

Harry knew he didn't have many offensive spells in his arsenal, only a few defensive ones that could help, with only three things that could work.

One was the blade in his hands that had always been there after the age of seven and served well as a defense because no one ever saw it unless Harry was wielding it, another was his Obscurial form that he still had no control over, and finally, one that was being recited by a thick voice in his mind, based on what he had read in some of the many books in the restricted section this school year.

The mantra was sinister, and Harry knew little about the language it imposed. However, he had read the ritual from start to finish without looking for specific information, and that alone was enough to imprint itself on his mind and be reproduced magically in the search for any chance.

- Let me talk to him... face to face... - Once again, the wailing voice, like that of a soul condemned to hell, spread through the room in question.

- Master, you're not strong enough.

- I'm pretty strong! For that, against such a weak little boy who can't even control his obscure...

Harry didn't want to move a muscle. He wanted to see his parents' murderer, he wanted to see the person who condemned him to a miserable childhood, and he wanted to be able to look him in the eye as he realized that the Philosopher's Stone was now in the possession of the "weak little boy" whom he despised so much.

He saw Quirrell raise his arms and begin to unroll his turban. The turban fell as his phoenix seemed to prepare for a shot. Quirrell's head seemed strangely deformed. Then he turned around without moving.

Harry could have vomited, but he couldn't because of the paralyzing shock of such ugliness. Where the back of Quirrell's head should have been, there was a face, the most hideous face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk-white, with intense red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

- Harry Potter... - The face spoke. Only for his eyes to abruptly focus on his phoenix. - What have you done? How did you split your soul, you silly little boy? - Voldemort shouted as if it were the greatest of sins for his greatest enemy to know something he shouldn't understand.

- ANSWER ME, POTTER! - Voldemort shouted, but Harry ignored it and ended up smiling sarcastically, under the gnashing teeth of the alien in front of him. - HOW DID YOU MANAGE THAT! - Voldemort was perplexed, his most loathsome enemy was standing there, his soul divided, showing no sign or expression that he had done anything evil to obtain this, as the crimson-eyed dark entity itself had done in the past.

- That was it! That was the look... you don't know how much it cheers me up and makes my day to see that ridiculous, hideous expression on the face of such a pathetic being as you, Voldemort. - Harry dictated quickly, under the furious gaze of his enemy. - Go on, Fyexbolt... destroy that wretch's hopes, hopes that he will one day return to his ascension. - Harry finally said, his phoenix shooting like a flash of flame towards the door, carrying with it the only Stone that could bring him back to his peak.

Voldemort even tried to spread some magic through Quirrell of the Dark's wand, but because he was on his back, he had gotten in the way, to the pretentious laughter of Harry, who had seen him unbalance and fall face-first to the ground.

- What is it?... do you want some help? - Harry asked sarcastically, and with a look that Voldemort literally felt like destroying.

- You'll bitterly regret doing this, Potter. - Voldemort cursed furiously.

- No, Voldy... it's you who's paying for murdering my parents. - Harry interrupted him. - It's you who's paying for your minions torturing Neville's parents to madness. You're paying for all the atrocities against the No-mag and even the wizards you exterminated in your war, leaving this society deficient in strength.

- Maybe that way you'll understand that no one is perfect, even the most powerful dark sorcerer can take a beating for a baby and have his plans destroyed again by a "weak little boy" who can satisfy many more women than you could imagine in that ugly head of his.

Harry never stopped, he knew he needed time and his only weapon was sarcasm to continue the humiliating debate against his enemy.

Watching the Dark Lord breathe in and out in search of some control, even if it was very sinister. Harry listened:

- I've always valued courage... and, boy, were your parents brave. I killed James first and he faced me with courage, even though he was so weak, with courage... but your mother, Lility... oh no, she didn't have to die... so much potential and brutality against her opponents... she was a real woman, you know, she was trying to protect you and to do so she destroyed my entire power base. - Voldemort explained, smiling at Harry's angry expression when he heard his parents' murderer mention their names. - Now, bring that fragment of your soul back, give me the stone and I promise that her death will not have been in vain.

Smiling like a maniac at his enemy's shadowed gaze, he finally noticed Potter raise his head with a glint in his eye... only for him to start laughing sadistically too, in an act that literally made Voldemort burn with hatred.

- GRAB HIM! - It was Voldemort's angry, whimpering voice that gave the order as he turned around.

And in the next instant, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close around his wrist. And at the same time, a cold pain like a tear burned through his scar, it felt like his head was going to split in two at the sound of the bell in his ears, he screamed, struggling with all his might and, to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him.

The pain in his head subsided along with the sound of bells, he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him doubled over in pain, examining his fingers, they were blistering before his eyes.

- Grab him! Grab him! - Voldemort screamed again and Quirrell of Darkness lunged forward, trying to knock Harry to the ground, only for him to feel a very sharp crack in his stomach, with a dark and extremely sharp blade located there, brutally impaling him from side to side.

- Master, I can't hold it. My hand... the sword! - It was the crying voice of Quirrell of the Dark that emerged. He stared in bewilderment at the palm of his hand, which looked burnt, red, like living flesh.

It looked like Potter's skin was bathed in sulfuric acid, which practically destroyed the Defense professor's hand.

- Then kill him, you fool! Finish him off! - Squealed Voldemort.

Dark Quirrell draws his wand, only to dictate furiously:

- Avada Kedavra! - A green flash erupted from his wand in Potter's direction.

A vision extremely identical to the one he had in his nightmares and memories of his mother, and he understood that this was no joke.

He thought about invoking any defensive spell with his wand, but his mind erupted into a scream audible only to him in pure denial, forcing him to appeal to something he still had no control over.

With his body rapidly dissolving into a mass of darkness, he soon dodged the spell as he flew wildly around the room destroying walls, pillars and even knocking over Ojesed's mirror.

He saw flashes of green and red being thrown at him, their collisions with the walls potentially destroying them, the euphoria that being caught by those spells could really put an end to his trajectory, and so Harry made himself stand in Quilldemort's direction, crashing into him as he flew brutally into a stone pillar while his chest was blown out in a horrifying scene.

Voldemort's shouts continued: "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

And other voices, perhaps inside his own head, calling out: "Harry! Live for me."

And it was only in a mental flash of pure adrenaline that Harry returned to human form while pointing his wand in front of him:

- Incarcerous! - Harry had summoned it with ropes, bursting out of his wand quickly and lashing out brutally at the possessed professor.

- POTTER! - The whining voice of the weakened Dark Lord could be heard, but Harry was far from paying attention to what he was insulting and exasperating.

While trying to get in sync with the magical voice of his photographic memory, Harry promptly began the only ritual he knew:

"EXORCIZAMUS TE

Omnis Immundus Spiritus,

Omnis Satanica Potestas,

Omnis Incursio Infernalis Adversarii,

Omnis Legio,

Omnis Congregatio Et Secta Diabolica

Ergo, Draco Maledicte,

Ecclesiam Tuam Securi Tibi

Facias Libertate Servire, Te Rogamos,

ADIOS, BITCH."

Having said this with a predatory laugh under Voldemort's wailing, excruciating screams in Quirrell's unconscious body, Harry could only notice a ghostly, obscure shadow erupting from Quirrell's mouth, nose and ears, as it rushed at Harry, piercing him through the chest, and so the Boy-Who-Lived felt all his strength go with a shrill scream of pure rage from the ghostly entity he had fled in pure defeat against the ground, making the whole castle shake absurdly in a state of pure alert.

Harry was plunged into deeper and deeper darkness. His vision blurred, especially when it seemed as if the flames were going out and someone had entered where the confrontation had taken place. And then everything disappeared.

Something golden was shining just above him.

- "The Snitch!" - Harry thought disconnectedly, believing he was at a Quidditch match.

She tried to grab him, but his arms were too heavy. He blinked. It wasn't the pommel. They were glasses. How strange...

He blinked again. Albus Dumbledore's smiling face came into focus, bent over him.

- Good afternoon, my boy. - Said Dumbledore, smiling like a grandfather. Potter had noticed that he was in the medical wing of Hogwarts, looking confused about what was happening to him.

- What the fuck? - Harry said, with Albus laughing at the boy's reaction.

And with that we end another chapter of the Changed Prophecy.

I hope you're all enjoying it, whether it's how Harry circumvented the evil Quirrell through his Mental Realm Expansion, divided into two stages.

The primary stage is Harry's Obscurial entity, which he didn't know was something that prevents everyone from reading his mind, because it's an extremely unstable and hostile entity, which tears apart the mind of anyone who comes along.

With the next stage, in which the entire Obscurial mass is hidden, a table with an old computer, which the invader, when trying to access, if he doesn't know how to use, won't have access to Harry's mind, who has cataloged everything as if it were a computer file.

With only Harry able to handle it, since wizards won't know what to do, the blue screen appears at the first click, which starts extremely loud music in the mental universe, giving room for the dark mass to attack.

Or about how Harry used Fyexbolt to escape with the Philosopher's Stone, and especially the importance of this phoenix for Harry, who will still have a lot to discover about it.

Whether he uses his Obscurial form, without any control, but which will allow him to save himself from an expert wizard with a heavy arsenal of magic.

And finally, of course, about how Harry exorcised Voldemort from Quirrell's body, yes, exorcised, like a demon, for the simple reason that I believe that Voldemort's immortality ritual is something that turns a person into a dark entity one step away from demonic.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, and I look forward to hearing from you in the comments section.

Below you'll also find the link to the electronic music that plays when someone invades Harry's mind.

This is something I made so that Harry can notice if someone invades, and being electronic, it aims to affect the invader slowly, as if in its beats it plays extremely loudly through Harry's entire mental world, almost destroying the invader's eardrums. It doesn't affect him physically, but mentally, where he doesn't have the wound, but his mind formulates the pain it was meant to receive.

Restricting him, so that the dark mass can attack in full power.

Handclap Remix:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NpkDLCo8O8k&list=RDGMEMYH9CUrFO7CfLJpaD7UR85wVMNpkDLCo8O8k&start_radio=1