Chapter 1
A small bell chimed downstairs in the kitchen. It was breakfast time in number four Privet Drive. As normal as the street appeared on that Saturday afternoon, number four was not normal. Of course, the only occupant of the house that counted was content, which meant that it could pass as a normal household.
The chime was soon followed by and orderly march of Dudley and Vernon's steps as they descended. Harry nodded in satisfaction at the sound of order. It was so much better than it used to be; when Harry's cousin, Dudley would rip his bedroom door open before blundered down the stairs shortly followed by the slower heavier footsteps of Harry's Uncle that made the stairs groan and complain at every footfall. Indeed, life was much better now.
Harry pulled on his black 'freaky' cloak. It looked almost like wizard robes (the closest thing Harry could find to wizard robes in the muggle world). Harry straightened his back and hard expression encompassed his features. It was his public face. Proud and aristocratic. He held his chin high and with an aura of Lord about him he approached his door.
Harry walked to his bedroom door and placed his hand on the handle. With the other he pricked his finger on a miniscule pin imbedded into the door. A brief glow of blood ruins flashed about the door frame.
Harry then opened the door.
Downstairs he emerged from the cupboard under the stairs. Of course this was not an odd occurrence in this house. Where Harry Potter was, things were always slightly off and odd.
As good as Privet Drive was at gossiping, the Dursleys were at keeping secrets. Even the neighbours had not known that there was another boy living at number four until they found out he had been there for four years. Harry Potter had been kept locked up in the cupboard under the stairs for his first four years at Privet Drive. And the Dursleys had good reason to lock him up for he was a freak of the freakiest kind.
Put into proper words, he had been a vegetable. His only movements were eat, drink and froth at the mouth and his scar would bleed. So, the Dursleys locked him up. If they did not keep him in the dark, he would in all his freakishness attack anything that moved.
At Harry's age of five, Petunia had a shock. The boy's scar stopped bleeding and then she heard him say his first sane words. His exact word had been "Where am I?" Harry had then gone into one of his freakish moods again and had attacked her.
But that was all passed and forgotten now. He had recovered, and over the course of two years had come into control of his mind. The Dursley's, of course, did not know what was happening, though they suspected more was happening then what appeared at first lance; so they just did their duty with him, which was feeding him, and making sure he did not die.
Then that frightful day had come, when the boy was fully in control of himself. Harry drugged his relatives with sleeping tablets and while they were stupefied, he used the carving knife from the kitchen to engrave ruins into their flesh, binding their bodies and souls to his will. Muggles were so easy to twist up. They had no magic to protest the binding and so had become slaves to him.
At the age of eight, the muggle authorities had approached Vernon about Harry's lack of schooling. The excuse of home schooling was shot down so Harry had been forced to go to school. Pathetic really.
Harry walked down the short passage to the kitchen with short controlled footsteps. The kitchen was deathly silent.
The other three occupants of the house stood slightly straighter when he entered. Harry nodded his head briefly at them before proceeding to the table. At his acknowledgement Vernon darted forward and pulled out the single chair at the table and allowed Harry to sit. Petunia followed shortly and placed a small bowl of fruit salad with yogurt before him. The only sound was that of Harry's spoon tinging against his bowl as he ate.
The other three occupants stood in a neat row behind him. When he laid down his spoon for the last time Petunia whisked his bowl away. Harry leaned back in his chair in satisfaction as he awaited the main meal of bacon and eggs.
"You have mail, my Lord." Squeaked Dudley's voice. The brief flick of surprised that flashed across Harry's face could have been a trick of the early morning light. Nether the less, Harry remained calm as he reached over and took the thick letter from the silver plate offered to him.
Harry cracked opened the seal of his Hogwarts letter. He had been expecting this for some time now. And today was the day he would receive it. It absolutely ruined his weekend.
In a sudden burst of anger and rage he crumpled the thick parchment in his hand and threw it to the ground. And just as quickly Dudley darted forward, smoothed the parchment, and presented it to Harry once more. With a growl he ripped it from his cousins shaking fingers.
"Next course." He bellowed "And then, get out. You are dismissed." A brooding silence settled over the house as Harry ate his eggs and pondered.
"Hogwarts" Harry growled. "Dumbledore!" He growled even deeper. The china and ornaments rattled in their places.
But there was no help for it. He would have to go to the magic school. There was nothing he could do about it. He may hold the knowledge of a great dark lord, but he lacked the magical power. At the age of eleven, Harry rated himself to be one tenth the magical strength of Voldemort.
Harry grimaced. He could see his future planned out for him. The ministry of magic fawning over him. Individuals bickering and fighting for his attention. Fan girls lusting after him like mad bitches. Powerful families trying to tie him up in politics and magic contracts so as to have him under their thumb.
It had taken Voldemort years to create his powerbase. Excellent planning and manipulating, combined with buckets of luck, an eye for opportunity and magical strength was what allowed him to become so powerful.
And here was an eleven year old that was supposedly oblivious of the magical world, and the politics that are involved in it, thanks to Dumbledore. Harry was a bit loath to enter the magical world. He was not scared, at least he would never admit to such a thing, but there was a sense of foreboding and anxiety that made his stomach churn at the thought of entering the wizarding world. His kind.
It was most probably a side affect of living as Voldemort in solitude. Harry hated to admit it, but he was behind the times. His knowledge of current events was non existent. His knowledge was Voldemort's - which was ten years out of date. Harry stood up from his breakfast, brushed the crumbs from his robes strode purposefully up to his room. He passed Petunia at the stairs, who jumped to the side and bowed her hear in submission as he passed.
In the confines of his room, Harry had trouble staying in control of his mind. The silent rage and frustration at his situation was enough to send anyone over the edge. The problem was; that if he lost his cool, he would loose his concentration. If he lost his concentration, then he would be pulled into Voldemort's mind.
Anyway, it was pathetic to go into a fit about something. It was much better to analyse the situation logically and reasonably. But what was he to do? He could not refuse to go to school. He, a little boy without even a wand yet, could not hope to withstand the great Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Should he pretend to be an ignorant first year? He would have to pass off his occlumency shields as being natural. Yup, it would be possible to do that. But would he be able to pretend for years?
Harry sprawled himself out on his bed in a most unprofessional manner as he mused. What was his plan?
What was his goal in life?
Who was he really?
Why was he even born?
And who would allow that he, a boy, be granted such dark knowledge. He had the knowledge to raise armies of inferi. He could commune with the dead. In a few years when he was stronger, magically, he would be able to raise living dead. They would not be alive, but be able to talk and reason. He had the knowledge to create objects to ensnare souls. He could twist binding magic contracts until he had control of whoever had him bound. He could call down hail and storms. Cause earthquakes - pretty much godlike.
And because he bypassed the terrible rituals and skipped the hardships to require this knowledge he was not scarred or disfigured. Rather, he was quite handsome, or would be in a few years.
Harry was so deeply engrossed in his thoughts that he did not notice himself losing focus on his mental block. The pull was oddly strong today for some reason. Harry found himself merging with Voldemort.
It took several moments for Harry to get his bearings, and then he slipped into Voldemort's mind, becoming one with it. He had done it so often there seemed to be a space designed specifically for him in Voldemort's mind.
The silence of the forest was what we first noticed. It was unnatural. It was the silence that announced the presence man to the wild. Only humans had that effect.
We drifted further looking for the disturbance. And there he was. A man dressed in black robes. He had a stick in his hand. Perfect. We moved forward and crashed through his weak mental barriers.
A wizard coming into our territory? Hmmm. One Mr Quirrell. Just the man for us. Take him. The man screamed in terror and pain at the attack. We applied pressure to the man's mind and slowly his resistance lessened.
Ha ha ha
We ravaged through his mind, scouring every corner. We found out he was a British wizard. A teacher at Hogwarts no less.
Ah what is this… interesting: a powerful artefact made by Nicholas Flamel is going to be stored in the school. The wizard did not know what it was. Mmmh. The only thing it could be was the philosopher's Stone.
Mmmh.
Then it came to us. This is marvellous stroke of luck. The philosopher's stone would have the power to forge a new body for us.
Fate is smiling down upon uss, yesss.
We must capture the stone before it reaches the safety of school. It would be much too well protected there. We scoured through the man's mind and discovered that the object was being stored in a vault in Gringotts.
Quite easy to break in there. We will have to come out of hiding. We have had enough of waiting for my servants to find us. We believe they abandoned us for dead even though we told them that Lord Voldemort can not die.
With one foul swoop we crushed Quirrell's core and took control of his will. We prepared our new dwelling place and made ourselves at home. Quirrell shook and trembled but there was nothing he could do against the onslaught.
Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort.
Harry pulled himself from Voldemort's mind. His head pounding from a headache. He steadied his breathing and slowly the pain faded. It was strange, but it seemed as he grew older and more independent, his connection with the Dark Lord hurt more. One day he may have to sever the connection totally, but for now it was beneficial to him. And damn if he would give it up.
Harry frowned. As much as he was confused about what his future held, he knew that there would be no future for him if Voldemort came to power. He would be one of the first to die… How unfortunate, but that would have to change. There was no way he could allow Voldemort to come back.
Harry recalled the letter from Dumbledore that had accompanied his Hogwarts admission letter. It had stated that the Hogwarts ground keeper Hagrid would collect him to buy his school supplies on the 31 of July, which happened to be his birthday.
Harry chuckled darkly. Must be the same oaf that I blamed the chamber incident on… Harry shook himself, no that was Voldemort. Not him. He was eleven.
AN: I have decided to keep chapters short. Hopefully the story will pick up quickly. Thanks to my reviewers. The more the better.
manwithasqueegee: Hope this chapter answers some of your questions. Later I may add some flashbacks as well.
