A…thing slithered out of the pond, creeping up the river bank. Clouds, like wisps of smoke, curled across the moon. An owl hooted in the night, swooping along the trees, but all over creatures still slept, nestled inside a burrow. Except for this thing. For decades, it had slumbered away, passing from one host to another. Wrapped inside its current host, one that was rapidly dying, it sensed, without a doubt, that it was time. The creature began moving, breaking its way out of its confinement. Inch by inch, the...thing...abandoned the coiled snake that had been its home for the past year. Alone, frighteningly alone and without a host, it grimaced in pain.But then the…it perceived its prey and began its way to shore.
Emerging into the darkness, it twitched its head back and forth sensing the force that had awoken him. Raising a tendril, it marveled at the soil, the coarseness. He rose out of the murk, gliding forward unencumbered by the limitations of flesh. The thing had no body, no life, nothing to hold it back. Nothing. It stared out into the forest and saw the light flickering from the fire. Yes, it thought, yes, it will do. It will do.
The man sitting next to the flames stared out into the woods, growing apprehensive. He had heard whispers of an evil, fleeting rumors of children grabbed from their cradles or whole battalions disappearing. Sitting in the Common Room with a tankard of ale the tales sounded ridiculous. He remembered grabbing his wand in mock duel with these "monsters," smiling as he "killed" them. He wasn't smiling now. The night grew oppressive as he sat there, tension rising. The man was on his edge, tight as a spring when he heard a snap from behind. He spun about drawing his wand-nothing. Nothing at all. A scan of the trees revealed-nothing, although he kept his wand out. Turning back towards the fire, he saw it. The shadow bobbing over the fire, gliding towards him.
"What is your name?" it hissed. The fear was overpowering now, making him tremble. It took another step. "Who are you?" Another step, until they were inches apart.
He fell to his knees, sobbing, "Quir-Qurinus Qu-Qu-Quirrell. Oh God!" He saw a wave of power slam into his head, crushing him to the ground. The creature twitched into what may have been a smile and then leaned forward with a finger to touch the blood. The liquid ran against its hand as it lifted it, twisting it here and there, admiring the shimmer. With great care, he licked the blood, drinking in the life of the man. The lines created its shape shimmered, and then solidified into the shape of Quirinus Quirrell.
A/N: My first fanfic! I know some of the details don't quite match since Quirrell willingly took on Voldemort's spirit, but, hey, I kind of like it this way. Any suggestions and tips would be appreciated. Thanks!