Harry Potter awoke with a groan, forcing himself onto his hands and knees. He looked around and coughed. What had happened? The last thing he remembered, he'd fallen into the trap door Fluffy had been guarding and into a black pool. This place didn't look like the forbidden corridor at all. He coughed again, unable to catch his breath. The air seemed thick with some sort of crimson gas or smog, and Harry struggled to breath. He tried to call out for help, but only made a gasping sound.
Suddenly, from the corner, he heard a shuffling sound.
"Hello?" Harry said, trying to push his glasses up on his forehead. Then he coughed again, the choking red fog filling his lungs.
The shuffling sound came again, and a creature stepped into the dim red light. Harry scooted away in panic. It had a maw full of razor sharp teeth, and four legs that seemed to be spikes. It let out a chittering screech, then charged.
Harry pressed himself against the smooth steel wall, beginning to cough and cry in panic. Just as the creature was about to reach him, the steel above Harry bent, then shattered inward, sending the creature back.
"Vindicator, I heard something in here," an oddly accented voice called. "Survivor maybe, and one of those mutated ravagers."
A thing in glowing armor plate stepped through the hole it made over Harry. It had no shoes, instead standing atop of black hooves. A tail poked out from the rear of the plate armor, which was set with glowing purple crystals. The thing raised a large warhammer made of more purple crystal. "Begone, foul beast."
The spike creature let out a warbling wail, then charged the warrior. The hammer came down in a thunder of warm yellow light, crushing the chitinous armor of the beast. It fell in a pool green icor onto the ground, dead.
The warrior turned to Harry, and the young boy almost cried out in alarm. It's face was blue, and covered with bristly black hair, as well as blue tentacles that were bound by a leather thong into a sort of beard. Its eyes glowed with an inner blue light, but they were warm and kind.
"What are you, small one?" the warrior rumbled.
Harry was too weak and out of breath to answer, and he was picked up by the warrior's strong arms. The creature hoisted Harry up through the hole, handing him off to a slimmer, more feminine blue creature who was dressed in silver robes with blue crystals sewn in. "Anchorite, this thing looks to be a child. A blood elf, perhaps?"
The female took Harry in her arms, waving a hand over him. A glowing symbol appeared on her forehead between two horns, and Harry felt warmth suffuse his body. He stopped coughing, suddenly feeling much healthier.
"Are you an elf, child?" the blue creature asked in a warm, soft voice.
"I'm a human being," Harry answered. "I'm not an elf."
"Human?" the larger male in armor asked. "Is that not the name of those strangers on the far shore of Azuremyst?"
The female set Harry down, and he found he could easily stand. He pushed his glasses up, peering at the two strange creatures.
"What are you?" he asked. "Who are you?"
"I am Vindicator Maraad of the Hand of Argus," the huge male answered, getting down on one knee to look Harry in the eye. "This is Anchorite Ysel, also of the Hand of Argus. We are draenei. Tell me, little human, how did you end up in one of the shards of the Exodar?"
"I do not know," Harry said. "I remember falling into a black pool. I was trying to stop Professor Snape from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone. He's an evil wizard."
"A wizard?" Maarad looked up at Ysel and frowned. "Odd."
"Vindicator!" a new voice called.
Harry gasped in amazement as another draenei rode up on what resembled a small elephant with four tusks. The rider waved to the three. "Vindicator, have you found the boy?"
Maarad stood, glancing at Harry. "Yes, Kessel. I have a boy, but how did you know this?"
"The Prophet, he sent word," Kessel said. "He is wanted in the Exodar at once, as are you, Vindicator."
Maarad nodded, hoisting his warhammer. "Very well. Then we must leave at once. Come, young human. It seems you have been expected."
Harry rode with Vindicator Maraad upon the back of the elekk, which was what the odd elephant like creature was. Beside them rode Ancorite Ysel on an elekk of her own, though hers was not as odd as the Vindicator's. Maraad had summoned his elekk with some really impressive magic, while Ysel had taken hers from Kessel, the draenei who had brought words of Harry's summons.
"So where are we?" Harry asked, looking around. "This doesn't look like England or Scotland."
"In truth, I do not know much," Maraad answered. "We crash landed here after the Blood Elves attacked us in the Netherstorm. We call the isle we have just left Bloodmyst, while this is Azuremyst. We have been here only nine days, and are still searching for survivors amidst the wreckage. Still, it appears we may be safe from the Burning Legion and their allies for now. Tell me, Harry Potter, what do you know of this world?"
"Um, I don't know either," Harry admitted. "I've never seen anything like this. It all looks so weird."
"Perhaps we should ask the furbolgs about the boy," Ysel said. "Maybe they know something. It is on the way."
"I will not delay our journey for even a moment," Maraad proclaimed. "When the Prophet calls, we must answer."
"Who is the Prophet?" Harry asked. "Is he some sort of priest?"
"He is the head of my order," Ysel said. "Prophet Velen, Chosen of the Light and Speaker for the Naaru. He is the leader of our people."
"He has shepherded the draenei across the stars for 25000 years," Maraad stated. "He is gifted with visions of the future. We have fled from many worlds. Draenor was not the first home our people have been forced to abandon. Perhaps here in this land, we will at last find allies to challenge the Burning Legion."
"I just want to go home," Harry said, feeling very small and alone. "I'm scared."
"Fear not, little one," Ysel said. "The Light is with us. The draenei do not turn their backs upon those in need."
"We shall deliver you to the Prophet safely young one," Maraad swore. "There, perhaps, he will know where you belong."
"I miss my friends," Harry said, sniffing and rubbing away a tear. "I don't know what happened to them. Do you think they're OK?"
"The Prophet will know," Ysel said gently. "And if they are anywhere on these isles, we will find them. Many teams are looking even now. Should any draenei find your companions, they will be well cared for."
The ride to the Exodar took many hours, long even into the night. Ysel and Maraad could make their weapons glow to light their path with a soft yellow light. Along the way they met other draenei, some mounted on elekks, others walking. Many were armed and armored in the strange crystalline gear that Maraad and Ysel wore.
"Are you fighting someone?" Harry asked. "Everyone looks like they are ready to fight."
"We must remain vigilant," Maraad rumbled. "Demons and Blood Elves still pursue us, and the beasts of the isles have been driven mad by the corruption from the shards of the Exodar. Still, it seems safe enough here now. My fellow vindicators and I have cleansed much of the dangers from Azuremyst."
At last, near midnight, the small party approached a towering crystalline structure that glowed with purple light.
"Wow," Harry gasped, looking up in amazement. "Is that the Exodar?"
"Indeed," Ysel said. "Though I confess, she has lost much of her former glory. She is battle weary, but she brought us safely to these lands."
"It looks like some sort of spaceship, but magic or something," Harry mused.
"The Exodar is a ship of the stars, fueled by the Holy Light of the Naaru O'ros. We have journeyed far from Draenor to arrive upon these lands," Maraad said. "Come, we must make haste."
As the approached, Harry saw more and more draenei, all hurrying about with large bundles or setting up structures. Harry also saw creatures that looked like draenei but seemed somehow wrong. Instead of the alien but nobel visages of the draenei, these others seemed somehow more foul.
"What are those?" Harry asked, pointing to one of the creatures as it wearily trudged along bearing a sack of rubble.
Maraad shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, and Ysel drew her mount close so she could speak in a low tone. "They are the Broken. Twisted by orc weapons, the Light has left them. We do not speak of their affliction, it is impolite. Pity them, but do not insult them. They have lost much."
"It is what we all fear we could become," Maraad said quietly. "Their lack of faith is a warning to us all."
Ysel looked like she wanted to correct Maraad, but she only bowed her head and pulled her mount away.
Harry was exhausted by the time they began the descent into the Exodar's main chambers, but the wonders around him helped keep his eyes open. There were many of the broken here, working with shovels and pickaxes to clear rubble and repair damage. They were supervised by uncomfortable looking draenei, who were using some sort of magic to help the broken. They could levitate larger rocks, or channel some sort of energy into damaged places that seemed to fix it.
"So you have wizards too?" Harry asked Maraad. "I'm a wizard you know."
"We have mages, yes," Maraad answered. "Few of the high masters of the arcane who have earned the title of wizard survived. I take it you have some mage training yourself?"
"I learned how to levitate feathers and make potions," Harry answered.
"Ah, good, useful skills. Alchemists and those who can lighten loads will always have work for their skills. Perhaps you are destined to be an apprentice of one of our own. However, that is for the Prophet to decide," Maraad told Harry. "Ah, here we are. The Seat of the Naaru."
Maraad and Ysel dismounted, Maraad's elek vanishing into sparks of light, and Ysel handing hers over to a stable hand. Both walked to the edge of the raised platform they were on, then bowed, placing their hands over their faces as the strange symbol glowed on their foreheads.
Harry followed, and as he approached, he heard a sound like wind chimes. It was a joyful, melodic sound, though it somehow also seemed weary. Harry looked down, and beheld the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It was made of glowing blue crystal and looked like an enormous, rotating crystalline christmas tree. However, it radiated a soft, warm light, that filled Harry's heart and soul with joy and peace. He could tell the crystal was watching him, and that gaze was full of light. He felt tears on his face, and sank to his knees, basking in the light of the being.
Welcome, Harry Potter. Here, you are safe. Here, you are loved. Walk in the Light, child, and all shall be well.
"I can hear its voice," Harry said, his voice raw and ragged. "It's so beautiful."
"It is an honor to be spoken to by the Naaru," Ysel said quietly. "Be glad, young human. Look, O'ros has marked you as one of his own."
Harry's eyes tried to cross to see the glowing mark that appeared on his forehead. After a moment though, it faded. The sense of peace remained though, and Harry felt for perhaps the first time in his entire life that someone actually wanted him for who he was. Not because he was famous, or his parents were brave, or because he was good at something, but because they loved him wholly and completely. Harry wept openly, and the passing draenei smiled at him.
"Archenon poros," many murmured, bowing to Harry.
Once Harry had composed himself, he stood with Ysel and Maraad, who led him down a long ramp to the inner chambers of the Exodar. Though the hour was late, there were many draenei at work still. It was not noisy, however. Each individual seemed to have a unity of purpose and desire as they worked to the song of the naaru. There were quiet conversations and grunts of strain, but the whole atmosphere was one of peace and calm, despite the obvious recent disaster.
From the main chamber they turned off to another filled with warm yellow light. Here, there was a sense of forbidding. Large glowing purple figures stood menacingly. Some had bat like wings and talons, others were tall brutes with wicked bared blades.
"What are they?" Harry asked, trembling slightly and hiding behind Ysel's skirts.
"The Burning Legion," Ysel snarled, and for the first time Harry heard a negative emotion from the draenei. Her voice was full of anger and malice, and her eyes seemed to burn with hatred as she glared at the images. "Our ancient foes. Usurpers and destroyers all of them. They must be destroyed. We keep these images here to train new recruits, and teach them the weapons of the enemy."
"We are Draenei, for we are the faithful exiled," Maraad said, standing before an image that looked eerily similar to him, save for the signs of corruption and spikes that jutted from the image. "Once, we were Eradar of Argus. Our brothers and sisters were led to their doom by the Betrayer and the Deceiver. They listened to the lies of Sargeras, and they fell. Be warned, young human. The universe is at war, a war between Shadow and Light. See that you do not fall to the darkness."
"Never," Harry swore. "I'll always be in the Light."
"That is good. Come. The Prophet awaits." Maraad turned away from the image of the demon, but Harry lingered for a moment longer. Was this what Voldemort wanted to become? He didn't know, and hurried after Maraad and Ysel.
As they ascended a staircase made of crystal that seemed to float in the air, the Song of the Naaru once more swelled. Harry felt almost as though he was ascending into heaven, and his heart seemed to burst with joy. At the top, Harry saw several draenei standing at attention in full armor, more ornate and thick than Maraad's. Behind them on a raised dais sat perhaps the oldest being Harry had ever seen.
Dumbledore had been old, to be sure, a venerable wizard who had seen more than a century. But this creature was truely ancient. His long white beard was suffused with light, his forehead crest tall and wrinkled. His eyes though were what made him seem truly ancient. They were milky white, but seemed to glow slightly. He looked as though he should be blind, but his eyes never wavered from Harry as he approached.
"Ah, the child has arrived," the ancient said.
Maraad and Ysel fell to one knee before the dias. "Prophet, we have come as asked," Maraad said.
Harry copied their gesture, filled with awe to be in the presence of such an ancient being. Despite his age though, the Prophet seemed to radiate a calm, quiet power, much as Dumbledore did. However, where Dumbledore was a pillar of strength, the Prophet seemed to be an ocean. Deep, vast, and unknowable to mortal minds.
The Prophet stood, towering over Harry. The boy nearly had to avert his eyes, so overwhelming was the force of the draenei's strength. "Peace, young one. I am Prophet Velen, leader of the Draenei and Servant of the Light. You are Harry Potter, are you not?"
"I am," Harry said, liking dry lips as his voice trembled.
"Rise, all of you. We have much to discuss."
Harry and his companions stood, while Velen sank back into his chair. To Harry's surprise, it wasn't a throne or made of some shimmering crystal, but an old wooden stool with a worn padded cushion on it. It didn't look exceptionally comfortable even, just somewhere for an old man to rest upon.
"Please, somewhere to sit for my guests," Velen said, nodding to the guards. Stools were retrieved from nearby, and placed for Harry and the others to sit upon. Harry had to perch upon his stool, which was rather tall, but then again he felt very small next to the draenei.
"Harry Potter. I was given a vision of your arrival. You, like us, are not from this world," Prophet Velen said. "Tell me, where are you from?"
"I'm from England. On Earth," Harry said. "I was going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But Professor Snape was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone and resurrect Voldemort, an evil wizard who killed my parents."
"Yes...yes I see," Prophet Velen said, stroking his beard. "But it seems now your fate, and that of your world, will be decided here, first. Perhaps, young human, we can aide one another in that."
/\\/\/\\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
The first thing Ron Weasley knew was that he was cold, and that he wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. Shivering, the young wizard sat up and looked around. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was jumping into that black pool with Harry and Hermione, but he didn't see them. He stood up, shivering almost uncontrollably. He looked around, and saw he was on a small mound of grass and rock surrounded by pine trees. The sun was setting, and a chill wind was blowing.
"Bloody fantastic," Ron said through chattering teeth. He looked around for his wand, but he must have lost it. Where was he? He got out of the wind, finding a small cave to curl up in. He gathered some sticks and bark from the trees, but he was lost as to how to make a fire.
"Come on, come on," Ron muttered, trying to rub sticks together like the muggles were supposed to do. "Burn! Incenda! Fire! Smoke! ARRGH!" He slammed the sticks together, and a small spark burst out.
"Reth?" the spark said.
Ron blinked, falling back on his haunches. However, as a wizard, a talking spark was not the oddest thing he had ever seen, so he cupped it in his hands. "I don't suppose you'd mind burning this for me, would you? Please?"
"Reth reth reth," the spark said, leaping onto the branches. Soon, Ron had a neat little fire going. Warmth filled the cave, and though he was hungry and exhausted, Ron felt pleased.
He sat in the cave for hours, listening to the calls of beasts and the wind and feeling sorry for himself.
"Thanks for the fire," he told the little spark which was dancing in the flames. "Reth is it?"
"Reth reth reth," the spark declared, swirling about.
"Thanks mate, but you don't know where I am, do you?"
"Aye, yer lost ya are laddie," a female voice with a thick scottish accent.
Ron blinked at the fire. "Huh. I didn't know fires were Scottish."
"What's a scottish?" the voice said again, and Ron looked up as a short woman in leather armor with blue face-paint stepped into his little hole.
"Oh, sorry, I thought you were Reth here," Ron said, pointing to the fire.
The little spark seemed to bow to the visitor. "Reth reth reth."
The woman nodded, peering into the flames. "Ack, that's a right fine fire elemental ye've managed to bind there lad. The spirits told me I would find a powerful young shaman here, and looks like I have. I must admit though, I did no' expect it to be a wee human."
"Fire elemental?" Ron asked. "Shaman? I'm no shaman, I'm a wizard."
"Oh, ye from Dalaran are ye then? Long way from home, lad. Where are yer parents?" the woman asked.
"What's Dalaran? And I suppose mum and dad are back at the Burrow in England. We can't be far from Hogwarts though if we're still in Scotland, right?" Ron asked.
"This is no Scotland," the woman said, stomping her foot on the earth to emphasise the point. "This here is the Hinterlands, home of the Wildhammer Clan. I'm Mylra Stormborn, shaman and gryphon rider of the Clan. Who are yeh laddie?"
"Um, Ron Weasley," Ron said. "But you sound like a scot. Where are your parents?"
Myra laughed. "I suppose me da's back at the Aerie caring for his forge even on a night like this. Me ma's likely cookin' supper wonderin' where her daughters got off to again, even if I'm old enough to have a home of me own now. Don't ye know a dwarf when ye see one boy?"
"Um, no," Ron admitted. "I thought dwarves lived in Scandinavia."
"Ye have the strangest name for places boyo. Well, come on. Stormbeak's waitin' outside. Let's get ye to a proper fire and some dinner."
Ron nodded, waving to the fire. He didn't know what was happening, but dinner sounded good. "Bye Reth, thanks for the warmth."
"Reth reth reth," the spark said, and hopped up into Ron's pocket. He was warm, but didn't burn Ron's clothes.
"Aye, ye'll make a mighty fine shaman with the proper trainin'" Myra said happily. "Got fire in yer blood ye do."
"Have you seen my friends, by the way? Harry and Hermione, they're both human kids like me," Ron said as they walked towards a large golden gryphon. He's never seen one before, but they were supposed to be nice if you'd tamed them.
"No laddie, yer the only one around. They human too?"
"Well yes," Ron said. "What else would they be?"
"All kind o' beasties around these parts. Elves an' trolls an' moonkin. Even got some dragons not to far from here."
"Oh, my brother Charlie's a dragon tamer. Maybe they'll know where he is at the preserve," Ron offered.
"I think yer more lost than ye might realize child," Myra said. "Come on, let's go. We won't find yer friends standing and jawin around here."
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\/
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
Hermione sat bolt upright, gasping and looking around wildly. She was lying on a cold concrete floor, with flashing red lights going off all around here. "Harry, Ron, the water-" she cut herself off, peering around.
"Hey, you're not a gnome," the voice said again. Hermione spun about to see a young girl standing beside her, dressed in overalls with a grease stained face and a wrench in one hand.
"No, I'm a girl," Hermione said, standing up. She was just about as tall as the other girl, though the other girls brown twin ponytails stuck up well above Hermione's head. "Like you."
"No, you look like a human," the girl said, shaking her head. She reached out then and grabbed Hermione's left ear in one hand, rubbing it. "Yep! Not an elf, so you must be a human."
"Ow!" Hermione protested, rubbing her sore ear. "Who are you, and why did you grab my ear?"
"I'm Kristine Lee Smallfry, though my friends call me K Lee! Why are you here in Gnomeregan human girl? And obviously, I grabbed your ear to check if it was pointed. You don't look like an elf, but you can never tell without empirical evidence."
"I don't know why I'm in Gnomeregan," Hermione said sulkily. "I'm supposed to be in Hogwarts helping my friends Harry and Ron stop Professor Snape from getting the Philosopher's Stone."
"Oh, you need a philosopher's stone?" K Lee said. "Sorry, can't help you there, but I know some alchemists who might be able too! I'm just a regular gnomish engineer, here to scrounge for parts! Had to beat up a lot of troggs to get them too."
"What's a trogg?" Hermione asked.
"You know, the big ugly things that look like a dwarf with a really bad hair day and even less hygiene?" K Lee said. "Oh, like one of those there. Watch out, that one's irradiated."
"Urrgghh," a very odd man said as it walked toward them. It was glowing green, and it's body was covered in hair. It looked to Hermione sort of like a neanderthal. "Rahg? RAWWWGGHHH!"
The trogg charged, waving a club and foaming at the mouth.
"Step back human, this one's hostile!" K Lee proclaimed. She dug a gun out of her pocket, and pointed it at the charging trogg. "Taste engineering, monster!"
A ray of lighting zapped out of the gun, hitting the trogg which turned into a glowing green chipmunk. The chipmunk blinked, squeaked, and ran away.
"Yes!" K Lee cheered. "The Critter Maker 3000 works! Well, most of the time, anyway. Field tests show about a 70% success rate."
"What happens when it doesn't work?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Oh, you explode. Or they do. Very messy. I'm still working out the kinks, but that's gnomish engineering for you! A dash of magic with a hefty dose of SCIENCE! Together, those two great forces of the universe can do anything!"
"Wow." Hermione looked around, confused. "Say, do you know where Hogwarts is? I need to find my friends and stop Snape from getting the Philosopher's stone."
"Oh don't worry about that," K Lee said. "We can just make a new one if he steals it. My friend Tally Berryfizz can make you another one if that guy steals yours. The ingredients are a bit rare, but I'm an expert at finding rare ingredients! Why, I was thinking of going through the Dark Portal to outland to try some of those fascinating new materials for my inventions. Say, maybe that's where Hogwarts is! You could come with me. I could use a new lab assistant, mine left after I accidentally turned him into a critter once. He got better, but he had no sense of adventure. Dwarves. What can you do?"
"Well if it's not too much trouble," Hermione said. "I would like to learn more about this magical engineering. They told me you couldn't mix science and magic, but if you can that would be extraordinary. Plus, I really do want to get back to school, or my grades will be dreadful."
"I can help you with your grades! I was stop of my class in Arcane Theory and Exposiveering 303. I might not look it, but in addition to being an excellent engineer, I'm also a powerful mage!"
"Is that like being a witch?" Hermione asked.
"Oh no, I think that's more like being a warlock," K Lee said. "My friend Wilfred Fizzlebang knows all about that. I think I have a book on Summoning Demons for Dummies back in my wagon though. Come on, I'll show you! I could use some imp blood for my latest batch of rockets anyway."
Hermione followed after K Lee, happy to be on her way back to Hogwarts and her friends. If she could get another Philosopher's Stone along the way, that would be even better.
Voldemort had finally fooled the old man into leaving the school. At first, he'd thought to bypass those traps, but then, he'd had a revelation: no one, not even Dumbledore, was dumb enough to announce where they were keeping a valuable artefact. The traps were a diversion, a subterfuge. He'd seen that as soon as he'd looked into that dark pool below the trap door. Now, instead, he was in the Headmaster's office, and he'd succeeded in opening the door to Dumbledore's quarters.
"Now, you fool, quickly," Voldemort hissed as Quirrell hurried forward. "Search the area for any further safeguards.
In less than a minute, Quirrell had found it: a trapdoor under the bed. Quirrell was having problems getting the door open though, so Voldemort took over. Still, it took almost an hour of incantations before the door sprang open, and Quirrell dropped into the vault below.
"Find the Stone," Voldemort hissed.
But there was no Stone to be found. However, as Quirrell was searching through the various boxes of sentimental old photos and dusty knicknacks, he came across a locked chest that was cold to the touch.
Voldemort took over once more, and before long he had the chest open. Inside was a shard of ice slightly larger than a man's head. With in it, a mummified skull was frozen. However, the skull was not human. It had two tusks, and a thick, jutting brow.
"Master, what is it?" Quirrel whispered, reaching a hand forward to touch the ice.
"No you fool!" Voldemort shrieked, but it was too late.
As Quirrell's hand descended, the skull's eye sockets glowed with an inner blue light. The ice leapt up, engulfing Quirrell's hand as the room began to chill. The man cried out and tried to flinch back, but to no avail.
WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER?
"Unhand this fool! This man is my vessel, not yours, creature!" Voldemort hissed as Quirrell cried out in pain.
The room's temperature continued to drop, and the voice from the skull echoed across the room.
MORTALS. YOU DISTURB THE REST OF NER'ZHUL, THE FIRST AND TRUE LICH KING.
"I am no mortal! I am Lord Voldemort, he who has defeated death itself!"
"Please, master, it burns, I can feel it, in my mind, I-"
SILENCE, MINION. YOUR BABBLINGS ARE OF NO CONCERN TO US. I SEE WITHIN YOU, TOM RIDDLE, YOU WHO CALL YOURSELF VOLDEMORT. YOUR SOUL IS FRAGMENTED, SCATTERED. YES. YOU HAVE PUT OFF DEATH, FOR NOW. BUT IT IS NOT DEFEATED. YOU ARE YET VULNERABLE.
Voldemort bristled at the use of his petty, muggle name, but he was truly enraged by the claim he was yet vulnerable. "My horcruxes shall-"
YOUR PALE PHYLACTERIES ARE BUT A STOPGAP. SURELY, ONE SUCH AS YOU WOULD NOT BE CONTENT TO EXIST SOLELY AS A SPIRIT FOREVER, WOULD YOU? I CAN SHOW YOU HOW TO CREATE A TRUE PHYLACTERY, ONE THAT SHALL SUPPLY YOU WITH A NEW PHYSICAL FORM NO MATTER HOW OFTEN YOUR OWN COIL IS DESTROYED. ONE THAT WILL ALSO GRANT YOU POWER OVER BOTH LIFE, AND DEATH.
Voldemort paused, ignoring the mental shrieks of the now mute Quirrell. A new body would aide his plans, and he was confident he could control this sub-human spirit easily enough. Besides, he could not locate the Stone, and the Old Fool would be returning soon. He may as well take this opportunity.
"Very well. I shall take you away from here, and see if you can help me build this physical form, that I may return and bring this land low with my might."
Taking full control of Quirrell, Voldemort forced him to take the frozen head, and they departed Hogwarts upon a broom, heading towards the Gaunt shack to retrieve the first of his Horcruxes.