Diclamer: Not my characters, just my story
Chapter 1
Harry Potter, only a first year in Hogwarts, ran towards the Mirror of Erised, hoping to stop the potions teacher, Severus Snape, from getting the Sorcerer's Stone. He ran through the doorway and saw a man before the Mirror. It was not Snape that Harry saw, but his complete opposite, in Harry's opinion, Professor Quirrell: his cowardly, stuttering Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Harry stood stiff as a board in shock. When he found his voice he called out the first thing that came to mind,
"You?"
Quirrell turned around with a smirk on his face.
"Me," he responded. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."
"But I thought…Snape…"
"Severus?' He laughed, "Yes. Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an over-grown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?'
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing
"But Snape tried to kill me!"
"No boy, Itried to kill you. Your friend knocked me over when she rushed to set fire to Snape's robes. She broke my eye contact. Another second I would've knocked you off your broom, even with Snape muttering a counter curse."
"Snape was trying to save me?"
"Yes, now be quiet boy." Quirrell snapped his fingers and ropes appeared out of thin air, wrapping themselves around Harry. He then turned back to the mirror.
"How does this mirror work?" He muttered. "I see myself presenting the Stone to my Master, but where is it? Is the stone inside the mirror, should I break it?"
Harry's mind was racing.
What I want more than anything in the world at the moment is to find the stone before Quirrell does, he thought.
"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"
A bone-shilling voice filled the room.
"Use the boy," It said
Harry stared in horror; Quirrell's lips hadn't moved when the voice spoke.
"Yes, Master," said Quirrell, then turning to Harry, he yelled, "Come here, Potter!"
He clapped his hands and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry then walked towards Quirrell.
"Look in the mirror, and tell me what you see," demanded Quirrell.
I must lie, Harry thought. I must look and lie about what I see.
Harry saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. The reflection winked and put the Stone back in its pocket, and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his pocket. He look at the mirror in shock. Somehow, he had gotten the Stone.
"Well?" spat the impatient Quirrell. "What do you see?"
Harry screwed up his courage.
"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore; I-I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."
Quirrell cursed in frustration. Then suddenly the bone-chilling voice filled the room again,
"He lies…he lies."
"Potter!" Quirrell yelled. "Come back here, tell me the truth!"
Well, Harry thought sarcastically, only because you asked so nicely.
"Let me talk to him, face to face," said the Voice
"Master, you are not strong enough!"
"I have strength enough for this."
With that, Quirrell began to take off his turban.
Harry was rooted where he was standing, staring, waiting for the horrible thing that he knew was going to happen. When Quirrell finished the turban fell to the floor and what Harry would've made him scream if he weren't completely speechless. There, before him, was the face of the nightmares of witches and wizards all over England. There, before Harry Potter, was the face of Voldemort.
"Harry Potter," the face whispered
Harry tried to move away but his legs wouldn't move.
"Do you see what I have become, a mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another's body. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks, but once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now, why don't you join me, and give me the stone?"
"I'll never join you!" Harry yelled.
Voldemort smirked, "Are you sure, even if I could give you what you wanted most?"
Harry immediately thought of his parents, but magic couldn't bring people back from death, could it?
"Yes Harry, it can," said Voldemort, once again reading his mind, "Actually, it's more of a ritual."
"How can I know I can trust you?" Harry asked.
A smirk appeared on Voldemort's face, "Can you afford not to?"
Harry thought it over. If he refused he would probably die. But if he gave up the stone, he would live, and maybe see his parents again. But then there was the hate, the flame of hate that wanted to say no, and break the stone, knowing he would die, just to spite Voldemort.
Voldemort sensed Harry's immense power, and knew that if Harry were to attack him, in this body, he would not stand much of a chance, so he made one more attempt to persuade him.
"Think Harry, with my guidance, you could gain an unimaginable amount of power."
Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere he changed the direction of his argument, "Think of your friends, I could easily kill them, if you refuse me." Voldemort bluffed, knowing full well he had barely enough power to talk, much less kill two people.
Harry looked at Voldemort, hate evident in his eyes, for a moment, Voldemort thought he would refuse however.
"Alright," Harry decided and tossed the Stone to Voldemort/Quirrell.
Voldemort's eyes grew wide in excitement and awkwardly caught the Stone in his backward hand.
"Yes, finally, I can be reborn!" Then, he frowned in thought. "Harry, give me your wand."
"What? Why?" asked a completely confused Harry.
"No doubt, Dumbledore will be here soon, he won't believe that you had a fight with me and left unscathed, so I'm going to stun you."
"How do I know you won't kill me when I'm stunned?" asked Harry.
"Because," Voldemort answered with a sigh, "I could kill you right now and it wouldn't matter. Now quickly, give me your wand."
Harry handed over his wand and immediately, fell into darkness.
Voldemort looked down at the stunned body of Harry Potter. I was tempting to kill him, but he could prove to be useful. He ordered Quirrell to cut a sliver of the Stone with a spell. It was imperative that he seem to have lost against Harry. At first he didn't know where to put the shard of the Philosopher's Stone. He couldn't keep it with him as he was going to kill Quirrell in order to get out. Then, he decided to put it on Harry; Dumbledore would never guess he would hide it with someone else, if he guessed that he had been tricked at all, that is. He decided to put the shard in Harry's shoe. For the Stone to be inconspicuous, he decided to make an easily accessible, but hidden compartment in the rubber of his shoe. He placed the important shard in said compartment and then put the rest of the Stone next to Harry. He pointed Harry's wand at Harry's head and muttered a spell. Harry's head glowed for a moment, and then it went away. He then moved the Mirror of Erised closer to Harry, his mind working like clock work. He stood in front of the Mirror and turned the wand on himself.
"I'm afraid this is where we part ways my faithful host," Voldemort said, with an exaggerated sigh.
"What do you mean, Master?" Quirrell asked, fear creeping into his voice.
"I mean I'm going to kill you and get out of here," and he immediately did so, banishing himself into the Mirror, letting go of the wand at the last second. It fell two or three feet from Harry, but that was acceptable.
As his soul sped away he looked down at the small boy who had defeated him as only a baby, even in unconsciousness, he radiated power, and Voldemort thought,
I have just made a powerful ally, that or a dangerous enemy.
Harry woke up, his head aching. He sat up and looked all around him; there were presents and candy every where. He looked at the room and realized that he was in the hospital wing, where he could finally get some rest. Right after he finished that thought, Dumbledore came in.
Of course, Harry thought, frustrated, I can't get a moments rest.
"Ah, I see you are awake, Harry," he said with an increasingly annoying twinkle in his eyes.
Harry didn't respond; he didn't know if Dumbledore knew what he had done. Then, he realized that he had to play innocent, naïve, first year.
"Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick—"
"Calm yourself, Harry; you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell dose not have the Stone."
Harry's blood ran cold, if the captured Quirrell, then they also captured Voldemort. Had they ratted him out? But then he realized that if they had, there would be wizard police everywhere (assuming they existed). He forced himself to calm down and try to keep the image of innocence.
"Then who does? Sir, I—"
"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."
Harry swallowed nervously, unsure if he was really fooling the great Albus Dumbledore.
"How long have I been out?"
"One day. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come 'round; they were extremely worried."
Harry didn't really give a damn at the moment; he just needed to know what happened.
"But sir, the Stone—"
"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take the Stone from you."
As innocently as possible, Harry said, "Sir, what happened to him?"
With a look of surprise, Dumbledore asked, "You don't remember?" When Harry shook his head no, Dumbledore saw an opportunity to make Harry loyal to him. If Harry thought Dumbledore had saved him, he would be grateful, and maybe even look at him as a savior and would, therefore, obey anything Dumbledore told him to do, which would fit in perfectly with his plans.
"He was attacking you as I came in," Dumbledore lied with a strait face. He abhorred lying but this was for the Greater Good.
"He was attacking me?" Harry asked, furious.
"Yes, he almost killed you, but I managed to get him off. Unfortunately, I hade to eliminate him."
Harry was angry, Voldemort was probably the only one who could bring people back from the dead, and now he himself was dead, or at least a spirit. While he was angry at Voldemort for his betrayal, he desperately wanted him parents back. Then, an idea bloomed in Harry's head, he turned to Dumbledore,
"Sir, is there any other way Voldemort can come back?" Harry asked with an innocent look in his face.
Dumbledore sighed, "Yes, Harry, I'm afraid there are a number of ways he can come back. However, you have delayed him for the time being," he reassured Harry with a smile. "I believe you can be released from the Hospital Wing now; your friends are worried, and I believe you should console them before they hold up the Hospital Wing," he said, that annoying twinkle just twinkling brighter.
"Yes, sir," he said, getting up, grabbing his clothes and drawing the curtain so he could change.
Dumbledore sighed and stared at the wall. He felt bad for lying to Harry, but it was for the greater good. If Harry thought of him as a savior and protector, he would trust Dumbledore completely. He frowned in thought. He had used Legimency to verify Harry's story. It was all very vivid, until the part where Quirrell attacked Harry and Harry, out of instinct, of course, used a banishing spell which sent Quirrell's body into the Mirror. Voldemort's soul rose from the dead body, defusing the false hope that Dumbledore held for two or three seconds, that Voldemort couldn't live when his host died. He had, of course, known from the start that the young man had Voldemort on the back of his head; he probably wouldn't have hired him if he hadn't had it. He easily figured out what was going on and how far they were by using Legimency on Quirrell, for that was one power that was shared between them. He had hoped to come in as Quirrell was just about to kill Harry and have Harry see him save his life, he had feared that this was not to be, fortunately, Harry had forgotten what had happened. He loathed lying to Harry, but it was to help Harry. And, of course, for the Greater Good.
Harry walked into the Great Hall, a big smile on his face that people would expect to see in the boy who, once again, defeated Voldemort. In truth, he felt sick, he had to find another way to get Voldemort back a body, and the Stone was one of the easy ways. Even if he brought him back to life, he would have to control him. He started to frown, in frustration, imagining a number of ways that would never work, when he saw his two friends walk around the corner. In seeing their smiles, he couldn't help but smile himself. Hermione reached him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.
"Harry, you're awake! We were so worried!" Hermione said as she let go.
"Ya mate; you were out for a while." Ron said, awkwardly, not so good at the touchy-feely stuff.
Harry smiled and thought, When I bring Voldemort back; there will no doubt be a war. I'm going to have to hide them, so they don't get hurt. Of course, they're two of the mostly likely people to be targeted. Harry thought with a sigh, a blood traitor of the Weasley family, and a muggle born.
"Harry…Harry?" Hermione asked, trying to get his attention.
Harry shook his head and pulled himself out of his thoughts,
"Sorry, what?"
"I said it's time to go to dinner, unless you're not hungry."
Harry laughed, and said with a smirk, "Are you kidding, I'm hungrier that Ron is."
Ron blushed and tried to scowl at his friend, but couldn't and they all burst into laughter as they left to go to dinner.
Harry hade sure everyone else was asleep before he made his move. He slowly and quietly made his way out of bed and went to his trunk, and took out his Invisibility Cloak. He snuck into the Library, and into the Restricted Section. It would be a long night, and he probably wouldn't find what he was looking for, but he had to try. He went through books at an insane rate, looking at only the darkest material, surprised at some of the material he found, but none of it was useful to him. Harry woke up on a pile of books, the sun shinning through the window, for a second he was confused, but then he remembered why he was here.
Crap, now there will be questions and I really don't need those right now.
Harry heard voices and, as quickly as possible, but all the books back, not caring how much noise he made because he had his cloak.
"Hey you! What are you doing back here?" Harry heard someone shout. He quickly stuffed his invisibility cloak into his pocket, not wanting whoever was there to find it. He looked up and saw Ron's older brother, Percy.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, stupidly, not knowing what else to say.
Percy strode towards his angry, "I, being a prefect am allowed to be here, but you are just a stu-" He stopped seeing the title of the book Harry had almost but back, Dark Rituals. Percy took a step back,
"You-dark magic-what?" said Percy confused as to why the Boy-Who-Lived was reading up on dark magic, but quickly regained his composure.
"I believe a meeting with the head master is in order," Percy said, a fierce look in his eyes, "and 10 points from Gryffindor."
Perfect, not even a day later and I already ruined any chance of getting back my parents, and now, maybe even saving my friends.
Harry sat across from the Headmaster looking completely dead-pan on the outside, but screaming in fear and anger of getting caught.
Damn it. Damn it! DAMN IT!
Dumbledore looked at his chosen successor, with no twinkle in his eyes. Had he been fooled? No, there was no way an eleven year old outwitted him, but he couldn't come up with a reason that would explain Harry's reading of dark magic books. He gave a great sigh and started the conversation.
"I'll ask the obvious question, Harry. Why were you looking at those books?"
Harry looked blankly at him thinking.
I can't betray Voldemort, even though he betrayed me. He's the only one who knows how to get my parents back. But is it worth it? Maybe if I tell them now, all will be forgiven. Yeah right.
Suddenly an idea came to him. Harry looked down and willed himself to cry. When he was sure there were tears streaming down his face he looked back up at Dumbledore.
"When I was with Voldemort, he found out I had the stone in my pocket and tried to bribe me into giving him the Stone. He told me that there was a ritual that could bring back my parents. He said he would even do it for me, if I gave him the stone." Harry stopped to take a breath and analyze Dumbledore's face. He almost couldn't contain his smile because the Headmaster's face was full of sadness, pity and, strangely enough, guilt. He would've taken a moment to think about it, but he had a host to entertain.
"I didn't believe him and called him a liar. But later, I thought about it and," Harry sniffled and pretended to choke up he looked at the Headmaster directly in the eyes. "I just want to see them so bad." Harry said as he forced even more tears to roll down his face. Looking at the Headmaster's face again, told him the he had succeeded in selling the lie.
Damn, Harry thought, If the whole wizard thing doesn't work out, I can always be an actor.
"I'm sorry Harry," Dumbledore apologized, "I had no idea you had such strong feelings regarding your parents." Greif and pity obvious on his face. "But I suggest you forget what Voldemort told you, he did indeed lie to you."
Harry looked down at his feet, "Yes sir." Then, trying to keep up the idea that he was desperate for his parents, which he was, he looked back up at the Headmaster with a desperate look in his eyes.
"Sir, are you sure? Is there no other w-" He started to say, but Dumbledore cut him off,
"Yes Harry, I'm sure, or believe me, I would've tried it. Now you should go get some sleep there are no classes today." Dumbledore said with a smile, dismissing Harry, who nodded and left, relieved to be gone from the Headmaster's presence.
Nothing else eventful happened till the end of the year feast. The Great Hall was decorated with the colors of the winners of the House Cup; green and silver. The Great Hall was radiating gloominess from all the tables, except the Slytherin table, of course.
Dumbledore stood up and silence immediately fell on the students. He smiled and said,
"Another glorious year at Hogwarts, many brilliant things have ha-." He began, but was interrupted by rude shouts from the Slytherin who wanted nothing other than the announcement.
A devious twinkle entered the Headmaster's eyes. "Very well, I'll get on with the announcement of the positions of all the Houses. In last place is Gryffindor (cheers from the Slytherin table), in third is Hufflepuff, and in second is Ravenclaw. In first place is Slytherin. (Very loud cheers from a certain table.) However, there are some last minute points to award." Dumbledore informed the students.
"First," he said loudly and clearly, "50 points to Ronald Weasley, for the best game of chess this school has ever seen." Loud cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table, making Ron blush furiously.
"Next," he continued, "50 points to Hermione Granger, for cool logic in the face of fire." The Gryffindors went into a wild cheer, screaming and stomping their feet as Hermione copyed Ron.
"And to Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage (Harry almost spit up his pumpkin juice at that) 60 points are awarded." To say the Gryffindor table was going crazy would be an understatement.
"And, to Neville Longbottom, it is hard to stand up to your enemy, but even harder to stand up to your friends, 10 house points are awarded." There are no words to describe the insanity that erupted from the Gryffindors.
"We're tied with Slytherin." Hermione commented to Ron and Harry
"There has never before been a tie in Hogwarts history." Announced Dumbledore, "Therefore, due to lack of knowledge, no one gets the Cup." He said a grim smile on his face.
The Great Hall was suddenly full of noise from all four tables. Three of them were cheering, not caring that no one won, just happy that Slytherin lost. The Slytherins, for there part, were all screaming at the Headmaster, angry as hell of this obvious show of favoritism.
On the whole train ride home, all Harry thought about was what had happened. Had Voldemort really betrayed him, and, if so, why? And if he hadn't, was he really defeated? Was Dumbledore lying to him? What did the Headmaster stand to gain from deceiving Harry? So many questions and no possible answers. Now he would have to go back to Hell for the summer and had to wait for next year so figure out what happened.
At least I'll have more space to think in, Harry thought, as he entered his new room. His relatives were now terrified of him and had given him Dudley's second bedroom, why he even had two bedrooms was beyond Harry.
Suddenly, he heard his uncle Vernon yell for him to come down.
"What is it, he asked?"
"We are going to shopping for toys for Dudley, you are going to-."
"Stay with Ms. Figg?" Harry guessed.
"Yes, boy," said Vernon, angry at being interrupted. "Now get over there."
Reluctantly, Harry went over to the cat lady's house.
He knocked on the door, which opened immediately to show Ms. Figg with a ridiculously big hat on her head.
"Come in, dear, come in." She said, a little too nicely.
Harry walked in cautiously.
"Thanks." He said, as she gave him milk and a plate of cookies.
She winked at him and said,
"I've got a surprise for you, boy, now close your eyes."
Harry, more then a little cautious now, closed his eyes, thinking that there wasn't anything she could really do to him.
"Open them." Said a voice that sent shivers down his spine. He looked up in surprise and saw exactly what he had expected, after hearing that voice; the back of Ms. Figg's body, with a head attached.
Voldemort's head.