Harry Potter's : Fantastic Beasts Guide

Voldemort—or what remained of him—lay on the cold stone floor, groaning in agony. His host, Professor Quirrell, was sprawled out, scarlet blood seeping from his frail body and pooling in the cracks between the slabs. Nearby, his wand lay discarded, snapped beneath David's foot.

The unicorn that David had summoned stood vigilantly in the distance, its majestic white coat stained by a drop of blood trickling down its horn. The crimson droplet fell to the floor, shattering into tiny red specks on the ancient stone.

David's gaze was icy as he looked down at the twisted form before him. "Anything left to say?" His voice was cold, devoid of sympathy.

Voldemort's face, grotesquely protruding from the back of Quirrell's head, contorted in rage. "If it weren't for this feeble body, I would have torn you to pieces long ago!" he spat, his voice venomous.

Quirrell's own face was pale and ashen, eyes wide with fear as he struggled to move. But his body was spent, crippled by the unicorn's righteous vengeance.

David's lips curled into a smirk. "You can rant all you want, parasite. But maybe you should get a body of your own first."

Voldemort roared, his fury echoing off the stone walls.

David sighed, his tone softening just a fraction. "If you hadn't killed the unicorn... if you hadn't violated something so pure... I might not have cared enough to come after you. But you did, and here we are." He looked down at the broken figure. "In a way, I should thank you. You showed me the importance of power."

He turned to the unicorn, giving it a subtle nod. The majestic creature obediently approached the fallen Dark Lord and delivered a brutal kick to Quirrell's ribs. The professor's body convulsed in pain, while Voldemort's twisted face contorted even more, his crimson eyes burning with hate.

"You monster," he hissed, hatred dripping from every word.

David raised an eyebrow. "You should've figured that out by now. I'm not letting you talk your way out of this."

A sudden voice cut through the tension. "David... did you really defeat Voldemort?"

David turned to see Harry, his robes tattered and covered in dust. The boy's green eyes were wide with shock and awe.

David lowered his wand, his expression softening. "He's weaker than he used to be. In his prime, I wouldn't stand a chance."

"But... he's still Voldemort!" Harry's gaze flickered from David to the crumpled form on the floor.

David opened his mouth to respond, but Voldemort interrupted with a mocking laugh. "You think... you've won?" His voice was a sinister rasp.

David didn't wait for him to finish. "Unicorn, one more time."

The unicorn's powerful hind legs struck Quirrell again, cutting off Voldemort's words with a sickening crunch.

"Stop talking," David ordered coldly.

Voldemort's eyes blazed with hatred. His serpentine nostrils flared, and his mouth twisted into a sinister smile. "You... pathetic... child... You think this ends here?"

David raised his wand, aiming it directly at the face protruding from Quirrell's skull. "Goodbye, Voldemort."

But instead of fear, Voldemort's face broke into a twisted grin. He began to laugh, a high, maniacal sound that echoed through the chamber. David's skin prickled. Something was wrong.

Quirrell suddenly screamed, his body convulsing as Voldemort's face began to peel away from the back of his head, stretching like molten tar. "No! No, master! Don't leave me!" Quirrell's voice was frantic, his eyes pleading.

"You failure," Voldemort sneered, his form continuing to separate from Quirrell's body, leaving behind a withered shell. "If it weren't for your incompetence, none of this would have happened."

"No... no..." Quirrell's voice faded, his body crumbling like dried leaves.

Voldemort's face detached completely, transforming into a swirling mass of black mist. His crimson eyes glowed in the darkness. "You two... you ruined everything," he growled, his voice echoing with malice. "I will kill you... both of you... one day."

Before David could react, the dark mist surged toward them. He instinctively leaped aside, narrowly avoiding the oncoming shadow. But Harry wasn't as quick.

The black fog rushed through Harry, who stood frozen, his mouth agape and his eyes wide with fear. The boy's body went limp, collapsing into David's arms.

"Harry!" David's heart raced as he cradled his friend, whose eyes were glazed and distant. Voldemort's ghostly form screamed in fury as it soared through the black flames and disappeared.

As the flames died down, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room. An old, wrinkled hand gripped the doorframe, and Albus Dumbledore stepped into the chamber, his eyes grave.

"Professor!" David called out, relief flooding his voice.

Dumbledore looked at the scene, his gaze lingering on the sarcophagus-like slab that now entombed Quirrell's remains. "I see... it's over."

"You didn't plan to stop him, did you?" David accused, his voice laced with bitterness.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with a mysterious light. "If I had... would you have grown this much?"

David's fists clenched, but he said nothing.

Dumbledore's expression softened as he looked at Harry. "Is he alright?"

David nodded, though his face was filled with worry. "He was... stunned. Voldemort passed through him like a ghost."

"Ah... I see," Dumbledore murmured, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I'll explain later."

Together, they lifted Harry. As they prepared to leave, Dumbledore's gaze fell on the crumbled remains of Quirrell.

"He was my student once," the headmaster whispered, a hint of sadness in his voice. "A bright boy... gifted... but so very afraid."

David placed a hand on the old wizard's shoulder. There were no words to comfort him.

With one last flick of his wand, Dumbledore transfigured the broken slabs into a solemn sarcophagus, sealing Quirrell's remains in stone. "May he find peace... at last."

The ground closed, hiding the tomb forever.

"Come, David," Dumbledore said softly, his voice weary. "Let's get Harry to Madam Pomfrey."

As they walked towards the exit, David glanced back at the chamber where the Mirror of Erised stood, untouched. "Professor... how did Harry get the Philosopher's Stone?"

Dumbledore's lips curled into a sly smile. "Ah... that, my boy, is a little secret... between Harry and me."

David rolled his eyes. "You're too fond of your secrets, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled, his laughter echoing through the ancient hallways as they carried Harry back to safety.