I own nothin'. Unbeta'd.

One Word: Harry No Work

Harry was the last one in the classroom.

"Can I perform an exorcism on you?" Harry asked.

Harry jammed The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in his pack. He grabbed his quill. He couldn't forget that. It was last one.

"Par-Pardon?"

Harry looked at Professor Quirrell for an odd moment as he adjusted the strap on his chest.

"Oh!" Harry got it. He hadn't used proper language. "May I perform an exorcism you?"

"Mr. Potter, I do-don't–" Professor Quirrell's speech dissolved into stutters and shakes of the head.

"Maybe the people that gave you that turban cursed you, or maybe you had your adult time and it's come to bite you in the butt. My big brother, Blast, always says to make sure you protect yourself, you never know what you can catch–"

"That's in-in-…"

"Appropriate. I know. I don't like to pry, really. But. It's a problem."

Harry walked closer to Professor Quirrell, his index finger pointed at him. Professor Quirrell's face twitched as he scuttled back.

"I think it-it-it's best if you-you-"

Harry didn't understand why Professor Quirrell was so nervous. He thought the guy would be happy considering the circumstances. Perhaps he had given up hope?

"It'll take five-ten seconds tops, you won't even feel it," Harry cajoled. "Actually, you'll probably feel better since you're slowly dying because of it. It's like a parasite."

"Wh-What." Professor Quirrell's eyes widened comically as he quaked, his face ashen. "My-My Lord?"

Harry paused. It was a leap of logic, sure, but had Professor Quirrell allowed someone-something to attach themselves to his magic. It sounded mad to even hear it in his thoughts.

Professor Quirrell unwrapped his turban. Purple cloth coiled around his shoulders.

"You don't have to show me," Harry said. "I can see the aura just fine." He could. It was hard not too. Every time he looked at Professor Quirrell he saw a big black snake mass that consumed Professor Quirrell's natural grey.

"You aren't listening," Harry said.

The turban was gone. In place was Professor Quirrell's shiny bald head and when he turned around a terrible face straight out of the cinema was there. Paper-white, ruby red eyes, and snake-like nostrils.

"It has a face." Harry found his voice.

"Harry Potter. You aren't the dunderheaded fool," the face said, followed by a sharp amused smirk.

"You should talk to Snape."

The smirk got wider.

"Join me, Harry Potter. You needn't die like your foolish parents."

A light bulb alit.

"You're Voldemort?"

"I am," Voldemort hissed, obviously pleased.

Harry couldn't deny that he was pleased as well. "I'm meeting my arch-nemesis. That was quick."

"Yes, well. Your answer, boy?"

"You're serious?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. Harry understood. Voldemort wasn't the type to make this deals often. It made Harry feel giddy. He was being courted by his arch-nemesis to be evil. It would be a great chapter to his story, but he had to be a hero.

He had too.

"Thanks but no thanks."

"Very well. Quirrell! Seize him and kill him!"

Professor Quirrell spun around. He made to seize Harry, but Harry was all ready. Pointer finger out. His total concentration on ridding the parasite out of Professor Quirrell's system.

"Exorcise," Harry said.

"Aaargh!" There were a lot of exclamations marks and curses used as Professor Quirrell fell to the floor. Ashy black smoke seeped from Professor Quirrell's body as he convulsed.

Harry watched in horror for a solid five minutes before Professor Quirrell went lax.

"Er, did I kill you?" Harry approached Professor Quirrell in short steps. He looked dead, waxy and prone. Harry's hands burned as he rubbed his pack strap. "Professor Quirrell, please don't be dead."

Harry bended down, he grimaced at the cool feeling of Quirrell's neck only to smile when he felt his pulse. Weak, but there.

"Oh thank God, Merlin, whatever."

Harry moved back. He was beyond late to his next class and he would be later for going to get help. He was sure his professors would understand once he explained the situation.

"You stay here, Professor Quirrell," Harry said. "I'll be right back."

Harry wore a smile. He had vanquished his arch-nemesis. He was sure Blast would be proud when he wrote to him. What a good start to the year and end to his first week at Hogwarts. Now, if Harry could get his wand to work.