A/N : Okay, this is only the first chapter. Can't say how long between chapters. After all, I have two other works in progress. If you need more Quirrell stuff, may I suggest Normandie M's "Redemption" or my other, short Quirell fic. Cheers!

Chapter 1: The Work of Dark Wizards or Witches Unknown

Gringotts...

Oh, gods I didn't like this idea. I mean, it's so heavily guarded and those goblins are so nasty. I wish there were some other way of doing this.

There is no other way

Yes, yes, I know must do this. I have to do this for my master, for power. It's all for power. Once Voldemort returns he will rise to the greatness he had before, and I, being the one who helped him back will be at his side. It's better to be the devil's right hand than in his path.

Some Defense Against the Dark Arts scholar I turned out to be. I'm no longer against it, I am for it! Then again, just as there is with good and evil, there is fine line between light and dark.

There is no good and evil...

Only power, I know, i know. And those too weak to seek it. I am not weak. I can do all that is asked of me. I'll go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I need to pick up some supplies for my classes anyway. Plus, Iggy needs more food.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was midday. I already checked out the shops, and did one last scope out of the bank. I can not deny how nervous I am. My stomach feels like it wants to drop into my knees. I imagined that happening, and it made me laugh at how absurd that was. The other patrons all gave me odd looks at my sudden outburst. I just smile nervously at them, and they turn back to their drinks.

They're used to it by now, my odd behaviour. But I tell you one thing, my strained nerves will soon be more than an act. Everyone thinks my new disposition of stuttering like mad, my faint heartedness, and twitching is a result of a bad experience when I went away to study abroad. A bad bout with vampires is what they assume. Oh, let them. It makes things so much easier for me. What harm could come from this frightened little mouse, right?

The door to the tavern opens from the London street. I don't acknowledge it, I just keep my head down and try to be as unassuming as possible. Just keeping my ears open for well...anything. I always try to be well informed. Even idle gossip can be useful, blackmail, accusations, grapevines are very handy. Of course, of all the things being said, the next I hear is the most unexpected at all.
"Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter!"

Harry Potter!? Could it be true? The other occupants immediately begin to crowd around the boy to introduce themselves, and shake his hand. I decide it would definitely be in my best interest to get a good look at this boy. He could be a problem. I wonder if my Lord knows the boy is back. Well, if he didn't, he's going to know now.

I approach him, my eye twitching. This? This is the famous hero, the Boy Who Lived? He was nothing but a scrawny, messy-haired, bespectacled, child! He looked more confused and scared than all brave and powerful! This was almost ridiculous! But looks can be deceiving, I must remind myself. I am a living testament of that myself, after all.

Hagrid sees me coming forward. "Professor Quirrell! Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," I stammer, grasping the boy's hand, "c-can't tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

The boy smiled at me and asked, "what kind of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-Dark Arts," I muttered, trying to sound like I rather not think of it. "N-Not that you n-need it e-eh, P-P-Potter?" I let out a nervous laugh. Harry was looking at me curiously and Hagrid seemed almost embarrassed for me. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires myself." Which is true. I did forget to pick that up this morning with my other things.

I'm not allowed any more time to assess the boy, the crowd practically push me aside so they can all get acquainted with the famous Mr. Potter. Oh well, I must get prepared for tonight anyway. Gods know it'll be a lot of preparing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's 11 pm. I stand outside the walls of Gringotts Bank. Diagon Alley is disturbingly dissimilar from the day. No more the merry bustle. It's quiet, dark, still. All the shops are closed. Even the Leaky Cauldron should be closed for business, only the tenants remain, sleeping peacefully in their beds. Of course, if I were in Knockturn Alley, the situation would be quite different. This is their busiest time of the day. People unseen, masked, hoods up, making transactions that are against ministry laws. It's a wonder that entire section hasn't been cleared out. But I find that area necessary. Not only for my expertise and for personal interest, mind you. Along with Happy-go-lucky Diagon, we need satanic Knockturn. It's like how light can not exist without dark, nor good without evil.

Well, it's time. Taking a deep breath, I place my hand against the wall. "Penetro," I mutter under my breath. Such a simple spell, but not greatly known. One of those that the Ministry likes to keep in check because it's a little too useful. The knowledge of it is all but dead. I fluidly pass thru the thick wall into this "High Security" building. I can't help but chuckle under my breath. It's almost too easy. Oh well, never look a gift dragon in the mouth, I say.

The entrance to the vaults is a heavy door. I know what's behind it. Those carts, and the stomach turning maze of tracks. But with a nice investigation I had composed earlier, I know an alternative means of transportation. A lift of sorts, only used by the Goblins. Not tonight though. It's hidden in a wall, but if you look closely, a seam of a doorframe is visible. I take out my wand and run it along the frame. the bricks sizzle and hiss from the heat coming from my wand and the wall gives way. It takes all the strength I have to hold it up so that it doesn't go crashing to the ground, and instead lay it gently on the floor. Phew. At least that hard part's over.

In the lift is a panel with buttons and numbers. 7-1-3 I punch in. I feel my stomach drop to my toes as the I plunge rapidly into the depth of London's underworld. For indeed it looks like a piece of Hades, endless tunnels, craggy rocks, and fire spurting out of crevices. Of course, I am able to avoid al of these because of the handy express lift. So, here I stand in front of vault 713.
I fish around in my pocket for the most important part of this operation. Finally, I remove a long digit, a recently severed goblin finger. Marvellous.
Taking it, I stroke the door gently. It opened right away for me. So many loopholes.

Excitedly, I go to claim my prize. oh dear, the vault is...uh...empty. No it's just the lighting, has to be it. But I have searched every corner frantically. It's gone! Some one has gotten here before me! What am I going to do? What am I going to do? Worse yet, what's my master going to do to me...