Richie was just about to head towards the opening in the wall when Harry's face twisted in pain. Clutching his scar with one hand, he groaned,
"Sss—ahh...! It burns!!! My head..."
Then, to everyone's astonishment, someone burst through the flames blocking the entrance to the chamber: black robes, pale skin, dark circles beneath the eyes, a pungent garlic stench that made the eyes water, and a purple turban perched atop his head.
It was Professor Quirrell.
His sudden appearance left all three boys frozen in shock.
The professor swayed like a drunken sailor who had only recently set foot on land after a long voyage. He stared in amazement at the three small figures clad entirely in black, skin-tight clothing, their faces hidden beneath ninja-style ski masks. Yet what widened his eyes most of all was the sight of the two exosuits and the robotic armour standing open by the wall.
A deathly silence settled over the chamber. The boys stared at Quirrell in horror. Quirinus stared back at them in bewilderment.
"You?!" Harry breathed in astonishment.
Quirrell smiled with relief. His face, usually plagued by nervous twitches, looked considerably more composed than normal.
"Harry Potter," Quirinus said lightly. "I kept wondering whom I would find here. I asked myself who this rival could be—the one who managed to get through the traps before I did. And it turns out to be merely three students."
"But aren't you supposed to be..." Harry glanced towards Richard.
"So it was you!" Understanding dawned on Quirrell's face. "That potion I inhaled... remarkably original. Were you trying to eliminate a competitor? And how long have you suspected me?"
"Suspected you?" Harry asked blankly, once again wincing and clutching his scar.
"The twins..." Ron hissed under his breath in annoyance. "They can't do anything properly."
Quirrell's icy, piercing gaze immediately locked onto Ron's hand. The professor's eyes widened even further.
"You found the Stone!" Quirrell burst out laughing, and it was nothing like his usual nervous titter. This was a genuine villain's laugh. "First-years sneaking in to steal the Stone!" he exclaimed delightedly. "And who should it be? Harry Potter himself, with his accomplices! You'll go far, Potter. Now hand me the Stone at once!"
Weasley swallowed nervously and looked down at the Philosopher's Stone in his hand.
"Ron, don't," Harry said.
"Oh, Ron, just give him the Stone," Richard said airily. "Let him choke on it."
"Yes, Ron," Quirrell said with a crooked smile. "Listen to your friend. Give me the Stone."
"Richie, what are you doing?" Potter shot Grosvenor a bewildered look.
"Harry, our lives are worth more than some rock," Richard replied. "So we failed to get the Stone. Big deal."
"Oh-ho-ho-ho!!!" Quirrell exclaimed delightedly. "Can it really be Earl Grosvenor himself? Now this is a gathering!" The professor was positively radiant with glee. "Why, you've got an entire gang of golden boys here! That certainly explains those strange suits." He cast a fleeting glance at the exosuits.
Suddenly, a hissing voice spoke from the back of Quirrell's head.
"For goodness' sake, knock the boys out and take the Stone already!"
"What kind of nonsense is that?" Ron cried in alarm. "Professor, the back of your head is talking!"
"The back of my head?" Quirrell replied softly. "No. That was my Master speaking. He has always been with me, wherever I went. I met him during my travels around the world. I was young and foolish then. I knew nothing of good and evil. But Lord Voldemort opened my eyes. There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it."
"That's a certified lunatic," Richard whispered into Weasley's ear. "Guys, he's completely mad. You don't argue with madmen. Ron, give him the Stone. I'm not interested in finding out what a deranged professor might decide to do."
"Richie, don't be such a coward," Ron whispered back, trying not to show his fear. "There are three of us. Let's just—"
"A lunatic?!" Quirrell burst into manic laughter. "Nothing of the sort!"
"Quirrell," the hissing voice sounded again, "take the Stone!"
"Yes, Master. At once."
Throughout the conversation, Richie was desperately trying to think of some way out of the situation. He ran through countless possibilities in his mind, completely forgetting about one particularly useful feature of the suits: invisibility. Harry and Ron had forgotten about it as well.
The problem was that three bewildered first-years could do very little against an experienced adult wizard. Harry and Ron knew no spells beyond those taught in their first year. Well, Harry had learned a few useful spells before coming to Hogwarts, but they were of little use against a proper wizard. It was difficult to imagine defeating someone like Quirrell with a spell designed to unlock doors. At best, he might be able to blind him with Lumos.
Richie himself was far more proficient in Charms, but he was unlikely to have time to draw his wand. About the only realistic option would be to make a dash for the armoured robotic suit and beat the deranged professor senseless with its steel manipulators.
There was also wandless magic. The trouble was that it required time—time to stir up the necessary emotions and focus on the spell. Or perhaps...
Richie glanced at the steel cylinder of the lightsabre in his right hand.
Or, if he could get close enough to the professor, he might be able to send him to an early grave.
Killing someone was never easy, at least not psychologically. Richie simply could not bring himself to make that decision. Though, owing to the less-than-simple nature of his previous life—a life with more than its fair share of dark stains—he was not afraid to kill. What he feared was being struck by one of Quirrell's spells before he could close the distance.
Ron looked terrified.
Harry was still wincing from the pain in his scar, yet he also appeared angry, frightened, and determined. The intense look of concentration on his face suggested that he was desperately trying to come up with a way to oppose the professor.
(End of Chapter)
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