Disclaimer: I own only my ideas. I think.
AN: Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (Season 2) Game Day – Round 7
A rat sniffed the air fearfully as it stood on its hind legs. There was something dangerous, something hungry nearby, he could smell it. And the rat could sense the predator on a level that went beyond the natural, a type of sixth sense that had served it well in the past. There was a momentary stillness in the air and suddenly the rat was attacked.
Out of the bushes, a fox leapt out and the rat barely avoided being caught in his jaws. Whether it was due to inexperience or maybe the fox simply realised that his would be dinner had picked him up, the result was the same. Had he leapt just a little later, the rat would have been dinner. Heart pacing the rat ran as quickly as it could, over fallen leaves and passing weeds with the fox in close pursuit.
Despite his head start, it seemed for a moment that the fox would indeed catch the rat, but then the rat did something both incredibly clever and incredibly stupid in a single move.
It dived into the forbidden part of the forest.
There were few animals willing to risk travelling into the forbidden part of the forest. Most normal parts had the usual threats of predators and other threats found in the natural world. This place though, was something else.
The fox stopped at the edge of the Forbidden zone and sniffed the air dubiously. He might be hungry, but dinner wasn't worth this. With a scared look, he dashed away.
The rat watched the fox move away, but the rat's nervousness only increased and the rat began to squeak in a mixture of panic and terror. There was something watching, something closing in and the rat could sense it on a level that could not be described by the normal five senses.
Closer and closer it came, a threat that went well beyond the rat's ability to understand. The rat only knew that it was a threat as it ran away, darting from left to right as it tried to avoid the threat but it was to no avail. With neither sight nor sound of the impending threat, the rat was caught and for a moment or two it squeaked in distress as it tried to throw off its attacker. Then the rat knew nothing as consciousness faded to be replaced by a dark and twisted mind that cared nothing for the rat's survival.
Lord Voldemort had a new host.
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The snake was young by the standards of his species. Barely a year old, he didn't really know the nuances of the forest as well as he could and he certainly didn't recognise the forbidding reputation of the part of the forest he found himself in.
He wasn't a particularly noticeable member of his species either. A Vipera berus in the language of science, more commonly known as Common European Viper, he was not a member of an endangered species and there were members of his kind found throughout Europe and Asia.
So in the grand scheme of life, the young viper was not important.
Still that did not mean the young viper was unimportant to himself. Like all creatures, it sought life, not death and it certainly did not deserve to be hunted.
The snake lay hidden in some long grasses, waiting for a convenient prey animal to walk past. The snake was well hidden and there were hints of passing animals. The ideal place to hunt for the viper. Or at least it would be except for the presence of something far more dangerous than the usual predators to the creature.
The snake watched and waited. Time was on his side after all and unlike the warm-blooded animals that fitted into its diet, the viper could easily wait for days, even months for its food.
The Presence also watched and waited, not entirely sure precisely where the snake was. But the fact that the snake was there was important. He preferred snakes and decided that this one was worth waiting for. After all, it wasn't like he was going anywhere and there were no suitable human hosts conveniently available.
There was a sudden movement and the snake roused himself. He could detect movement, the movement of something small and edible. He readied his body for the strike.
The Presence spotted a movement and moved into a perfect position to strike. He could feel the hunger of the creature below. He could have moved in and taken over with almost no effort, but yet he waited. The best time to strike was not now, ready as the snake was to strike with its attention focused on the forthcoming meal. He waited.
The prey appeared, a small woodland mouse. The perfect meal for a young viper. And a meal was exactly what the young viper intended for the mouse. It came closer and closer and closer, unaware of the danger that it was in. It came a little closer still when suddenly the viper struck with deadly speed. The mouse never stood a chance and within moments the mouse was dinner.
The Presence watched the snake attack with approval. It was just like him, fast, lethal and without remorse. It was how the world should have worked, how it needed to work. While the snake swallowed the mouse, the Presence swept in and possessed the creature, distracted as it was by its meal.
Lord Voldemort had a new host.
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After all his research, all his searching, he was close. Very close. So close he could practically taste the feel of victory. Finally, he would no longer be mocked and laughed at behind his back. Instead, witches and wizards of the future would be know the name Quirinus Quirrell as the wizard who discovered the location of the long vanished Voldemort and maybe even learn secrets about the dark arts that the world did not know.
Quirrell twiddled his fingers nervously. He knew what he was supposed to do when he met the disembodied remnant of Voldemort. The theory was sound in his mind. Admittedly the spells required had never been actually used against…whatever form Voldemort was in at the moment, but he was certain that it could be done. All he needed was an opportunity. After all, it could hardly go any worse than the unpleasant business with the banshee. Just how dangerous could a disembodied being be? Even Lord Voldemort wasn't capable of performing any magic without a body of his own.
The subject of his search watched Quirrell walk further and further into his domain with almost unrestrained glee. Finally, after all the years he had spent waiting, here was a human host and a wizard at that. He waited for an ideal chance to strike. Humans and witches and wizards in particular, were a lot harder to control than the typical animal hosts he controlled. They had awareness and of course wizards knew more about the magic of the world than muggles and were better able to fight him, but fate had sent this young wizard his way and he was not going to waste this chance.
Quirrell frowned as he moved further and further into the forest. He was sure that he should have encountered the object of his search by now. His research indicated that the…being or whatever it was should have already arrived. He doubted that it was capable of much thought at the moment and the idea that it might be stalking him never crossed his mind. Instead he tripped over a raised root and crashed into the ground hard, tearing his robes and scratching open his hands.
He gingerly picked himself up and examined the damage he had done to himself. Torn robes and a handful of cuts, easily dealt with just the slightest piece of magic. He pulled out his wand and waved it at his torn robes and broken skin.
Voldemort watched Quirrell fall with satisfaction and as he cast the spells to heal himself and mend his robes, he knew that it was the time to strike. In an instant, he descended on the unfortunate Quirrell and possessed him with hardly a thought. At least at first.
Quirrell felt Voldemort descend on his mind like a slimy tentacle slowly dripping down his consciousness. He screamed, thrashed about and did his best to throw him out. But it was no good. A more aggressive, stronger personality would have done better, lasted longer, but Quirinus Quirrell was no hero, no dominant or strong mind. No longer did notions of good and evil move across his mind and instead there was only mindless bliss and the reassuring feeling that nothing mattered any more.
Voldemort settled comfortably into his new host and rifled through the brilliant mind of Quirinus Quirrell. He licked his lips, a sensation he had long missed. Soon, the world would know the name Voldemort once more!