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"You chose the wrong path," Albus said vaguely, still thinking.

Quirrell nodded. "That thing is dead and you're still in control. I should say that I did."

An idea struck him. "What do you want?" Albus inquired.

A small smile played on Quirrell's lips. "I want to be allowed to leave this place and face no consequence for what you say I did but that's not very likely now is it?"

"No," Albus agreed. "I do not believe that you understand the magnitude of what you did."

"And how do you propose to change that?" Quirrell demanded. "I can't remember what it is that even happened and I don't have all of the details! You're going to punish me for something that I can't even remember. But there is something that I do know. I wasn't tricked, you understand, I was just made to see that good and evil are artificial concepts we create to comfort ourselves and hide from the truth that there is only power and those too weak to seek it."

"An interesting hypothesis," Albus said diplomatically. "I believe I can find two rather insurmountable flaws in your theory, however, even without thinking about it."

"What?" Quirrell asked suspiciously.

"Not what," Albus corrected, "but who. The first problem is myself. You see, I would hardly call myself a perfect person but I've striven to be a good one since long before you were even born, Quirrell. And yet, since 'good' and 'evil' translate out roughly to 'those too weak to see power' and 'power', respectively, I must be quite powerless indeed. Despite the powerlessness my attempts to be a good person reveal me to possess, somehow I find myself the head of the Wizengamot, the headmaster of Hogwarts, possessor of an Order of Merlin, First Class, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. And I think you know my enviable status as the only one Voldemort ever feared. How do you reconcile this?"

Quirrell looked a little shaken. "Just because there is no good and evil does not mean that even the powerful cannot hold delusions that they are."

Albus nodded. "Right, of course. That brings us to our second point of contention. Voldemort himself."

Quirrell was clearly lost. "What does that thing have to do with it?"

"He is supposed to be powerful enough to persuade you and yet look at what he's been up to since his murder of Lily and James," Albus entreated. "He may not have died but he's lost his body and spent ten years hiding! He was utterly dependent on you for everything once you found him. And no matter how much you might value being treasured and trusted by one such as he, what does it say that he wouldn't have made it as far as he did without you?"

"I…" Quirrell trailed off, trying to find an explanation.

He wouldn't, of course. Voldemort was no longer living by his own creed and now he was supposed to be dead. He still wasn't quite sure of what the best course of action was but a year in Azkaban, a year in the areas not haunted by the dementors, seemed like a good starting point. He could just tell the courts that Quirrell had tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone and the man had no lingering loyalty to compel him to argue otherwise. Voldemort need not have been involved with Quirrell's attempt at all.

When In Doubt, Obliviate, Chapter 37