End It.

There was no way to secure the Philosopher's Stone. Voldemort could kill you, Harry was already dead, or close enough. Nothing that you could do would protect the Stone. Dumbledore and the professors had tried to protect it, Gringotts had tried to protect it. No one had been able to keep it safe. Voldemort would keep coming after the stone, even if Dumbledore burst through that door right now.

Quirrell was about a hand's span away from you now.

"Marvolo give me the stone," hissed Voldemort.

Gripping the top of the rock in your hand you stare Quirrell in the eyes. With a crack you bring the Philosopher's Stone down on the hard floor of the chamber. Voldemort screams in rage and Quirrell scurries towards you as if to stop you. You slam the stone down on the tile twice more, and the stone cracks. Red smoke escapes from the fractured stone. There's a flash of crimson light and an acrid smell fills the chamber.

Voldemort howls in fury as his spirit, like a shadow, passes out of Quirrell and disappears into thin air. Quirinius Quirrell collapses his skin pale and clammy. His face is covered in blisters where Harry had touched him. Pulling yourself to your feet you look at the Philosopher's stone, now in two pieces at your feet.

The most powerful magical item known to man, shattered and impotent. One way or another it would not fall into the Enemy's hands. Before you have time to contemplate, the door swings open.

Albus Dumbledore looms in the doorway, stark and terrible. Gone is the mischievous headmaster, in his place is one of the most deadly wizards of the twentieth century. You feel a lump in your throat. Dumbledore's wand is out, the elder wood catching the light of the torches.

There was something unusual about that wand, you can't help but stare.

Albus's gaze sweeps across the room, over Harry and landing on Quirrell. He swoops over to the professor, checks his pulse, and sighs heavily. The headmaster turns to Harry and seems relieved. The carefree old man seems to have returned. Or at least for a moment.

Albus turns as if seeing you for the first time.

"Marvolo Gaunt, you have some explaining to do, but first where is the-" his eyes land on the remains of the Philosopher's Stone. His face turns grim. "I see."

You feel months of outrage building up inside you, and your potentially broken rib is a dull echo in the back of your mind.

"With all due respect, sir, this should have happened nine months ago."

You expect Dumbledore to get mad, but instead he seems amused.

"Perhaps, young master Gaunt. But what makes you say that?"

"When it had to be moved from Gringotts because Tom was after it, and you decided to place it here in Hogwarts- why risk the lives of the students over it?!?"

"We use the name he gave himself, Marvolo. He truly is Voldemort now, despite the names he had in life. As for why... Harry deserved the right to confront the man who murdered his parents." Dumbledore said softly. "Besides, Nicolas and I wanted to attempt to preserve the stone, if possible. Nicolas needs the stone to live, Marvolo, and he has just as much right to that as anyone else."

"Does he have more of a right?" you ask shaking. You don't even register that you are staring down the most powerful wizard alive. You can barely contain your indignation.

"Does Nicolas Flamel deserve to live another few lives at the expense the students of this school?!" You hear your voice distant as if it was far away. "Does Harry deserves the chance to be thrown from his broom in the first Quidditch game of the year, because Tom wanted to kill him? How about Hermione? The Cave Troll that Tom and Quirrell let in the school during the Hallowe'en Feast nearly killed her. Would Flamel have been fine with that, just so long as he could live another few years?"

Dumbledore looks taken aback, more sorrowful than angry, which somehow makes the whole process worse. Could it be that the Grand Mugwump hadn't even considered this?

"Rest assured Marvolo, no one was ever truly in danger-"

"NOT IN DANGER!?!" you snap. "Ron is lying in McGonagal's Chessroom- concussed! Quirrell tried to use the **** Curse on Harry, how is that not in danger!?"

A curious expression -regret? pity?- flickers across Dumbledore's face, only for a moment, and then it is gone.

"Marvolo, you have spent your whole life living in the shadow of the selfish decisions of others. I understand that you can see our protection of the Philosopher's Stone as more of the same. However, your teachers here at Hogwarts are of the highest caliber of Wizards in the world. Madame Pomfrey will see to Mr. Weasley's injuries, and Harry was in no danger. His Mother's magic protects him."

You are still furious, but it seems like the Headmaster feels that he has made sufficient account for his actions. You move to take a step forward when your knees buckle. You collapse to the ground, your chest on fire.

"Yep," you think to yourself "that's definitely a broken rib."

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, bends down and sees that you are hurt.

"Let's get you and Harry to Madam Pompfrey." Dumbledore waves his wand, and a pair of floating gurneys appear. With another wave of his wand you and harry each are lifted on to one, as the Headmaster takes off out of the Forbidden Corridor, with the gurneys following.

As he walks you hear him mutter to himself.

"You truly are a wild card, Marvolo. I wish that Fudge had warned me, it complicates a good many things." He looks over to you slyly, as you grab at your ribs, barely holding on to consciousness. "But at least the hat chose well."