Chapter One: The Boy Who Was Alive

"Quirrell…." Hissed Lord Voldemort. Quirrell practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice in his head.

"Yes My Lord?" he replied via the same mental wavelength they seemed to now share.

"Did you remember the supplies we need for harvesting the unicorn blood?" His lord demanded.

"Yes, yes. I'm not new at this anymore you know. We do this every week."

Voldemort audibly sniffed through the turban as Quirrell began swiftly descending the staircase that had finally clicked into position. "I'm still your master don't make me…"

BAM

ChaThunk

Thunk

Crack

THUNK

"What the fuuu" began Quirrell "Sorry my Lord it felt like I ran into…"

Quirrell audibly gasped as a very confused, very naked Dark Lord emerged in a puff of rancid red smoke beside him.

"… a person…" he finished with a stutter.

They both gaped at each other not even noticing Quirrell's turban flutter in tatters to the floor.

Their eyes met. Then they both turned as one towards the bottom of the staircase where a disembodied shin and shoe could be seen.

"A leg? A leg? Why just a leg?" stammered Quirrell not knowing where to look or what to think in this situation. Voldemort gave a snort of annoyance, but his eyes were clearly full of awe at having a complete body as he somewhat clumsily started navigating the stairs.

"My Lord let me help…" A biting look from Voldemort shut him up fast, but he stayed close as they went to investigate the shoe. Voldemort leaned down and poked it cautiously, then removed a shimmering cloak.

Revealing the still warm, glossy eyed stare of Harry Potter.

"Potter?" Voldemort looked completely shocked and sat down heavily on his bare ass. He looked up wide eyed as Quirrell leaned down to check his pulse.

"He's dead. That must be why you're… you. Now."

"But… My revenge… I had plans…"

"Well, either way we did it my Lord. I mean, you, you did it."

"I did it..?"

"Well… yes…" Said Quirrell Sitting himself across from his Dark Lord on the cold winter stone. "I mean… I um…"

"My eyes, Qurirrell. Are. Up. Here."

"Oh! Sorry Mt Dark Lord! I was just thinking…"

"Clearly you weren't thinking." Voldemort stated icily and repositioned himself from splayed, spread eagle into a slightly more dignified sitting position. Voldemort was starring at his hand and still had a distinct air of shock, every movement of his body seeming clumsy in a body unused to movement.

"Quick!" hissed Voldemort, "I hear footsteps!"

"Why not just kill them?"

"Idiot! I will NOT be known for taking my glorious revenge on an 11 year old boy by bumbling into him! Naked!"

Quirrell nodded and moved the body to the wall as the Dark Lord covered them in the invisibility cloak. They both quickly realized the relic was not made with two grown men and a corpse in mind and they found themselves awkwardly pressed together and half crouched over the body of the boy.

"Why did this have to happen now? It's cold," complained Voldemort as he repositioned himself against Quirrell.

"My Lord, no need to feel embarrassed. I understand, and besides it's still quite impressive."

"If I had a wand I would kill you right now…"

Quirrell quickly shushed his Lord trying desperately to change the subject but Voldermort's indignant glare did not escape his notice.

Dumbledore rounded the corner, in a stately green robe humming a jaunty tune. He had a small skip in his step and looked like he was perhaps a bit tipsy. Voldemort groaned softly and Quirrell shot him a warning glance. They watched silently as the headmaster danced past them to climb up a long staircase and finally turn out of sight once again.

"Quirrell…"

"Yes Master?"

"You know that awful dream where you're naked at school?" muttered Lord Vodemort growing more and more agitated with each word. "Well this is NOT how I envisioned my triumphant return! What even the FUCK. How do we make this right Quirrell? I DEMAND we make this right!" To punctuate his anger he gave The Boy Who Was Alive a swift kick as he stood up throwing the cloak off of the three of them.

Quirrell's mind began racing searching for a solution to please his very furious, very naked Dark Lord. He knew he only had mere moments… but there it was! The answer! He began stripping off Harry Potter's non invisible cloak.

"What, pray tell, are you doing?"

"First we shall get you properly dressed."

The Potter boy's cloak was comically small on the Dark Lord and reached only his knees. He then used the scraps of his headdress to close it like a belt. "Passable" decided Quirrell thinking of witches and wizards of Germany who currently favored a shorter cloak and wide set pants. Voldemort had no pants… but… well, it WAS passable. If not exactly modest he was covered up. Mostly.

"So now I'm wearing a child's clothes? Much better." Stated Voldemort dripping with sarcasm. "I'd take your clothes but we'd have the same damn problem."

"I'm sorry I'm so short my Lord."

"So what is the grand plan to fix the mess?"

"We continue the original plan tonight." Said Quirrell seriously, looking deeply into Voldemort's eyes, "We take his body. We hide it. We get the Philosopher's Stone. We know how to do it and we'll do it tonight. Now. We contact the other Death Eaters. We create our own story. Tell our own ledged. You retrieved your body. You killed him gloriously and with flare! We take over the world. We burn this damn place to the ground."

Voldemort grinned, "I just remembered why you're my favorite."

Quirrell licked his lips. He flushed and turned from Voldemort to the corpse of Harry Potter. This was going to be a busier night than collecting unicorn blood, but he could do it. They could do it. Together.

They would be together. At least until the nights end, when he would watch Voldemort step forward to rule. Leaving him in the Dark Lords shadow. Leaving him alone.