After Damian drank the bubbling, dark green Draught of Living Death, the changes took hold quickly.
His skin turned dull and ashen, losing all its luster. Moments later, it began to crack like dry earth. The blood in his veins felt as though it were congealing. Thick, black-purple veins bulged beneath his skin, and through the fissures, he could faintly see that his blood had darkened to a sickly hue.
Yet, Damian felt absolutely no pain.
Harry and Hermione paled in horror at the grotesque sight. Hermione felt as if an invisible hand were squeezing her throat, rendering her too terrified to speak.
"Damian...?" Harry's voice trembled violently. He was terrified the draught had been a lethal failure.
"I'm fine. It looks like I brewed it perfectly on the first try," Damian said calmly. He pinched his own arm, noting the complete lack of physical sensation.
He gave his wand a quick flick to test his magic. Fortunately, the Draught of Living Death did not hamper his spellcasting in the slightest.
Harry and Hermione let out massive sighs of relief, having been scared out of their wits.
As Harry moved to ladle another dose from the cauldron, Damian stopped Hermione. "We will likely be facing Quirrell on the other side. Harry, you come with me. Hermione, I need you to stay and look after Neville. If you can, get him and Ron up to the Hospital Wing."
Hermione hesitated briefly, but agreed. She knew her combat skills were the weakest, and she didn't want to become a liability. Drawing her wand, she cast the Mobilicorpus charm on Neville, lifting him gently before heading back toward the previous chambers.
Harry steeled his nerves, ladled a portion of the Draught, and downed it in one gulp. Moments later, his skin underwent the same horrifying transformation, turning dull and cracking.
"This is bizarre... I have no feeling at all, like a full-body anesthetic," Harry muttered. He touched his cheek, disturbed that the rough, cracked face under his fingers didn't even feel like his own.
"Let's move. Stay sharp, Harry," Damian warned. He led the way through the black flames of the archway marked The Living Shall Not Enter, its eerie light chilling them to the bone.
"Protego!" Damian's guard was at its absolute peak. The instant he stepped across the threshold, he cast a powerful Shield Charm.
Nothing attacked them. Damian swept his gaze across the chamber. It was completely empty, save for a massive mirror in a gilded frame standing in the center of the room—the Mirror of Erised.
"The Mirror of Erised?" Harry asked in shock as he stepped through the flames behind Damian. Glancing around, he noticed there were no other doors. "Do we have to use the mirror to get to the next room?"
Seeing no sign of Quirrell, Harry assumed this was just another puzzle they had to solve to move forward.
Yet, Damian's finely tuned magical senses immediately detected an unstable ripple of mana in the corner of the room. A sidelong glance revealed nothing but empty space. Quirrell was already here, hiding under a Disillusionment Charm.
Damian kept this revelation to himself, feigning ignorance. He knew from his foreknowledge that only Harry could retrieve the Philosopher's Stone from within the mirror's enchantment.
"You've seen this mirror before?" Damian asked casually. "Let's take a look."
Harry agreed at once, longing for another glimpse of his parents. He stepped up to the glass.
Instead of his family, he saw his current, zombified self—skin ashen and cracked, face bloodless, looking exactly like an animated corpse.
"I look awful," Harry mumbled, touching his cheek again. But this time, he froze. His reflection hadn't mirrored the movement.
Instead, the mirrored Harry smiled, slipped a hand into his pocket, and drew out a brilliantly cut, blood-red stone. With a wink, the reflection tucked the stone back into its pocket.
At that exact moment, Harry felt his real pocket grow heavy. Something had just materialized inside it. Stunned, he reached in and pulled it out. It was the very same red stone he had just seen in the glass.
"What is this?" Harry asked, bewildered.
Before Damian could answer, the ambient mana in the corner violently shifted. Quirrell materialized out of thin air, lunging desperately at Harry.
"Harry, watch out!" Damian shouted. His wand snapped up instantly. "Diffindo!"
A sharp whistle tore through the air as a crescent-shaped blade of magical energy shot toward Quirrell. However, the Defense professor dissolved into a cloud of dark mist, narrowly dodging the Severing Charm.
The mist immediately reformed beside Harry. Quirrell materialized and snatched greedily for the red stone.
The moment his fingers clamped down on Harry's hand, Quirrell's face contorted in absolute agony. "Aaaagh!" he shrieked.
Quirrell jerked his hand back violently. Horrific, raw blisters were already bubbling up across his skin where he had touched the boy.
"It is you!" Harry yelled, stumbling backward from the sudden assault.
Quirrell's face twisted in agony as he clutched his burned hand. Suddenly, a high, cold, rasping voice echoed from seemingly nowhere.
"He has the Stone... Let me speak to him!"
Harry blanched, looking down at the red gem he was clutching. It was the Philosopher's Stone.
Enduring the burning pain, Quirrell reached up and began to furiously unwrap his purple turban. It fell away, revealing a shockingly bald scalp. Then, Quirrell slowly turned his back to Harry, revealing the hideous, snake-like face embedded in the back of his skull—Lord Voldemort.
"Harry Potter... we meet again," the face hissed, its red eyes gleaming in the dim light.
Voldemort smiled cruelly, relishing the moment. "Look at what I have become... a mere shadow, forced to share another's body to survive. But thanks to you, Harry, the Stone is within my grasp. Once I brew the Elixir of Life, I shall—"
Before the Dark Lord could finish his monologue, a blinding blade of magical energy lashed out, cleanly severing Quirrell's good arm.
As the severed limb fell, Harry dropped the Stone in shock. Instantly, a conjured, thick green vine lashed out from the floor, snatching the Stone out of the air.
"Lord Voldemort..." Damian spoke coolly, catching the Philosopher's Stone as his conjured vine delivered it directly into his hand. "Daring to turn your back on me in such a fragile state. How foolish."
Both the severing blade of light and the retrieving vine were seamless products of Damian's advanced Transfiguration.
"You again... Damian Black!" Voldemort roared in fury. He commanded his host, "Kill him! Take back the Stone!"
Damian merely smirked. The moment his fingers closed securely around the Philosopher's Stone, he activated the runic metal disc hidden on his person. Instantly, Voldemort's furious scream faded into absolute silence as the world dissolved.
He re-materialized inside the safety of his Wizard Tower.
This had been his true plan all along. Once he secured the Stone, he would bring it directly to his Tower's Alchemy Workshop for complete analysis. The Workshop's advanced Analyzer was capable of breaking down any alchemical creation or magical artifact, flawlessly reverse-engineering its recipe.
He expected the process to take a considerable amount of time, but that was perfectly fine. He could remain inside the Tower until the analysis was complete before ever returning to the Hogwarts trapdoor chamber.
"Orianna, analyze this Philosopher's Stone and extract its recipe," Damian ordered, handing the blood-red gem to his golem assistant.
"Right away, Master," Orianna replied gracefully. She accepted the Stone and headed straight for the second-floor Alchemy Workshop.
Inside the lab, she placed the legendary artifact into the core of the Analyzer and initiated the extraction process. After a brief pause, she turned back to him.
"Master, analyzing an alchemical item of this magnitude will take roughly ten days to complete."
"Ten days..." Damian murmured. "That will consume a massive amount of the Tower's mana reserves. It's a good thing Alsha's hoard supplied us with enough resources."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, doing a quick mental tally. The Analyzer would burn through a vast amount of magic, but for the secrets of eternal life and infinite gold, it was a price he was more than willing to pay.
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