Chapter 3: It's The Love That Hurts
Every day I watched the boy through Quirrell's eyes, gaining knowledge, growing stronger. He had taken a certain liking and knack to the class, one that I despised. Maybe this is why he was meant to destroy me; he was good at magic? Was he going to become one as powerful as I? I set those thoughts aside though, focusing on gaining my strength, getting the stone.
Our encounter with Hagrid a few days after meeting them in the Leaky Cauldron had broadened my knowledge of the school, and of the old bloke himself. He chatted endlessly with us, not knowing who we were, because of an old cloak I forced Quirinus to wear, especially while in the Dark Forest. If he had been seen while drinking the blood of a unicorn, my plan would capsize; he would be fired. The giant bloke didn't even bat an eye when we offered him the dragon; a token to trust us. That just made him talk even more.
I learned. About the stone. About the boy. About his friends. His accomplishments.
Keep your enemies closer, they say.
Elixir of Life? That was the main plan, getting past the enchantments, getting the stone, and using the Elixir of Life for my new body, one that even that bloody boy would fear. It seemed Harry Potter had found some new friends, gotten into trouble just like his father. The Granger girl and that red haired boy; they would go next. Both of them had helped him too much; they already knew about the stone, I was sure of it. We had to strike fast, before the children or that traitor Snape stopped us.
Severus was one of my followers who worked for the other side as I had found out. He was a disgrace in my eyes now; a weak little mongrel that I was more than happy to dispose of. The night before had been the final straw for him though; cornering Quirinus and I like mutts in a kennel. He was on to Quirinus, I knew; on to us. He knew there were plans going on, but the way he dealt with it was making him seem like the bad guy.
"Master, a-are y-y-you r-r-r-r—"Stop your bloody stuttering you idiot. Yes, I'm ready. You're the one who wields the wand. Get us through the traps, to the stone; time is not at our disposal."
"I'm s-sorry master. We are o-on our w-way." That stutter just wore at my patience like a stomachache. The fool was my only hope of regaining power though at the moment, so I stayed silent, save for a single command.
Go.
The dog was easy; that giant old idiot had told us all about how his "Fluffy" went to sleep merely by listening to a lullaby. The potions and keys took Quirrell some time, but luckily he wasn't that much of a blunt idiot, being in Ravenclaw and all. As for the chess game, an enchantment worked best; the game froze on spot and Quirrell leisurely strode past the prisoner pawns and such.
At last, we came to a room with nothing but a mirror. The stone had to be here, but knowing Albus and such, this was another challenge.
"The M-Mirror of E-Erised," Quirrell whispered as we both read the glittering gold text. My mind flashed back to other times, and I remembered the old legends about this certain mirror all too clearly. Once you looked into the mirror, you saw what you truly wanted most, what you most desired.
Let me take control. I told Quirinus, making my demand firm. I heard him whimper slightly, but he let me take the wheel. Walking up to the mirror, I stared into the glass; my reflection one I thought promising.
There I stood, my skin smooth and youthful, looking the way I had when I wasn't yet twenty, not trapped in this fool's body, a parasite. The stone glowed red in my hand, and at my feet, Harry Potter lay, dead. Excitement thrilled through me and I looked at my hands, to my feet, hoping that the reflection would reign true.
As always with the mirror, desires weren't ever true.
There was my hand, Quirrell's hand. It was never mine, it would never be mine, not unless I could get out of this body and make a new one of my own. Without the Elixir, maybe the boy would suffice. Old magic, blood magic, yes that could work. The boy didn't lie at my feet of course, and my hand was empty. Though in the reflection, I saw my desire, using the stone and gaining immortality, a new life. What was the trick? Surely if I broke the mirror, the stone would be lost. It was in the mirror, but how could I get it?
There was a movement across the room, and I ignored it. Quirrell knew who it was; this was the perfect timing for the young lad to come strolling through, hoping to foil Snape in his plans.
"You," Harry whispered, stepping further into the room. Quirrell laughed, and I joined him, taking full control once again.
Show him what I am Quirinus. Show him what he did to me.
"You have n-no idea, ch-child. W-We have been w-waiting for y-y-you." Harry's face was a mask of confusion, and I laughed silently. He had no clue, which was for sure. Then a look of thought passed his face.
"That was you in the forest! I saw you drinking the unicorn blood. This was your plan all along, to get the stone!" My mind flipped back to the first time I had Quirrell drink the pure one's blood. I hadn't been strong enough to understand anything those first few times; maybe that was when the boy had seen me. He knew, but he didn't know enough, at least not yet.
"Yes b-boy. It w-was u-us." Another quizzical look crossed his face and he balled his fists.
"What do you mean us?" The both of us smiled, and I could practically feel the boy shiver. Show him. Take him to the mirror, make him get the stone.
"Boy, come here. I know y-you are l-looking at the m-mirror." The boy inched slowly toward us, his hand subconsciously going to his wand. "W-what do y-y-you see H-Harry? You see, I s-see myself h-holding the stone, y-yet, I d-do not h-have it. What d-d-do you see P-Potter?" The boy stared at us with wide eyes before averting his gaze, his features hardening into a blank stare. He edged closer to the mirror, so that only a few feet separated him from me. Quirrell could sense my urgency and excitement, he urged me to wait, wait until the boy retrieved the stone.
"What do you s-s-see P-Potter?" Quirrell snapped as the boy stared wide eyed at the mirror. He was seeing something important, I knew it.
"I'm… I'm with Dumbledore. He… I've won the house cup." The boy's eyes flitted from side to side, and I knew he was lying.
"Liar!" Quirrell accused, beating me to the point. It was then that I felt it, the stone in Harry's pocket. I knew he had it, some part of me just knew. It was strange, but I felt my wish of a new body, my wish of eternal life only a few feet from me.
He has the stone; get the stone! Take this off, take it off!
My commands were swift, and he quickly unraveled the turban which concealed me. Harry then screamed, and I knew he understood.
"Never!" He bellowed, running. Quirrell gathered his senses though, and soon the whole room was ablaze with flames. The boy couldn't run, and he couldn't hide. This was my time to succeed, and I would not fail.
"Come here boy, give us the stone!" I was surprised to hear my raspy voice coming out of Quirrell's mouth. That stopped the boy short, and he turned to face us, his green eyes wide. His expression reminded me of James as he died, and his eyes were like Lily's as she crumpled to the ground, trying pathetically to save her son's life. Sure, it had worked that night, but now there was nothing she could do to stop me. This was my time to win.
"No!" Harry yelled again, raising his wand. He was quickly moving backward as we closed him in; he couldn't run through the flames.
"Don't run from us boy, give me the stone!" I screamed, running forward as I realized with joy that I could move Quirrell's legs as if they were my own. The feeling was exhilarating, especially when Harry began to scream, seeing my shriveled grotesque face on the back of Quirrell's head.
"It's you!" Harry screeched, his hands furiously raking at his scar, the one that appeared when he… stalled me. A smile formed on Quirrell's lips, and he took control once again. Grab the boy, suffocate him. Make his death slow. He will pay for his exploits.
Quirrell reached out to Harry, half-tackling him, and his hands touched the boy's face. Potter began to scream, and so did we.
Soon our flesh was filled with an excruciating pain, I felt as if I was being melted on a grilled, cooked to a crisp. That was when Quirrell's body began to crumble, his skin dying and his entire being began to obliterate itself. Harry backed away, pure horror etched in his features.
That was the second time he took my body away from me.
It may not have been my body, but Quirrell had been my only chance, my first chance at getting revenge. Love had saved the boy again, hadn't it? I couldn't touch him. Once again, I was back in that numb world, where only my thoughts existed, but I was stronger.
I was stronger than before, and I would rise again, with my own body.
I would kill that blasted boy.
I would get revenge.
