have you ever seen (a boy like me?)
Professor Quirinus Quirrell who is the host of Lord Voldemort
He could hear the ticking of the clock every time he was alone. It went tick tick tick, and it was driving him mad. His host was sniffling, sobbing at every opportunity and-
He wished he hadn't agreed to the mad deal that his Lord had given him. Quirinus had been promised power, glory-but he had gotten nothing. The Dark Lord had taken every single opportunity to inflict pain-
Lord Voldemort sneered at the Hufflepuff brats that were filing in as the bell rang, each dutifully caring their book bags and wand. Black hair and killing curse eyes caught his attention, and he was mommently dumbfounded. Potter was a Hufflepuff? This was news. He had thought the boy would be like his parents.
Quirinus smiled at the silent class, relishing the chance to be their first exposure to magic. "W-w-welcome t-to Defense A-against the D-dark Arts!" He hadn't impressed them. Potter (who doesn't know what he looks like?) was smiling, and the dark-skinned boy next to him was eyeing him like he was a particularly interesting fly.
Quirinus didn't like either of them. They-
They weren't right, Voldemort noticed immediately. They had the sense of other to them, like they had been dabbling in Fae magicks. Potter tilted his head, and was looking like he was paying avid attention to what his host was stammering about. Zabini, Voldemort thought his name was, wasn't even pretending to pay attention, and was instead eyeing his host's wand while folding a piece of parchment sloppily. He passed to the boy next to him as soon as his host turned to scrawl on the board, looking apologetic. The boy opened it and went white, then turned an angry red.
The recipient mouthed a thank you, and tucked the note into his bag.
Class was let out a scant few minutes later- had time really went by that fast?- and approached his host. "This period is a free one, correct?" Zabini asked, looking curious.
"Yes, what of it, ?" Quirinus asked, wishing the duo would leave. He had a headache and wanted to get into his stash of Headache Potions.
"Just want to test a theory, sir." Potter said, and grabbed his arm while Zabini cast a silencing bubble over them. Quirinus screamed. His skin, where Potter had grabbed it, was bubbling over Potter's fist, burning him right to the bone.
"No!" Voldemort cried, and tried to leave.
Zabini caught the smoke in a loosely held fist.
"You shouldn't have done that Riddle." Zabini cooed as Quirinus continued to scream, getting higher-pitched as Harry slapped his other hand onto his professor's face. Voldemort started to scream as Zabini clenched his fist.
"Potter please!" Quirinus begged, trying to wrench off Potter's hand off his face. "I knew your parents!"
"Look, Blaise," Potter said mildly, "He lost the stutter. D'you think I can make it come back?" He pressed his hand harder against Quirinus' face. Quirinus screamed louder, and the bone glinted from where the flesh was melting off.
"Don't bother," Zabini said in the same tone, paying more attention to the way Voldemort was screaming as he clenched his fist slowly. "We only have half an hour." Zabini tapped his watch.
"Shame." Potter said, and Quirinus gasped, and fell slowly to the floor as Potter wrenched away his hands. "Look, War. He's gone. Kill yours so I can escort them to the next stop."
Zabini obliged. "Here." He handed the smoke to Potter, who put it in a clear jar.
Potter thanked him and vanished.
(*)(*)(*)
Quirinus wasn't moving. He wasn't a ghost, and he wasn't alive either. He groaned,putting his head in his hands. He then watched in mute horror as the Dark Lord stepped out of the mist, looking classically handsome. He turned his hands this way and that, seemingly fascinated.
"Hello."
The thing that stepped out of the shadows was a grinning skeleton holding a scythe. Quirinus screamed and jumped. Voldemort snarled and moved to grab his wand, only to find to find that it wasn't there.
"Pft. Wizards. Never ready to move on, it seems. You don't have your wand, you don't have anything. You're mine." The skeleton laughed. "Why, Tom Marvolo Riddle, you seemed to have misplaced most of your soul! Quirinus Quentin Quirrell, what were you thinking letting him share yours?" It's grin faded a tad, "Now. Quirinus Quentin Quirrell, you may either stay in the land of the living as a ghost or move on to your afterlife." It's empty eyes made contact with Voldemort, "I can't offer you anything until all of your soul comes together. You're stuck in the in-between until it does.
"What happens?" Quirinus asked softly. He seemed scared, worried. As he should be. There was, after all, not a very big chance on him not being able to go to heaven.
"To be,or not to be,that is the question. Choose, I don't have all day." The skeleton tapped its watch pointedly.
"Move on." Quirrell decided after a moment. "There's nothing for me here."
The skeleton extended a hand, which Quirrell took. They vanished then, leaving Voldemort on his own. Voldemort cursed and started to poke around for some means of escape.
The skeleton didn't come back.
Voldemort didn't find his escape.
(*)(*)(*)
The Great Hall was full when people started to notice Quirrell was missing.
Dumbledore called for a house elf and ordered it to find him. It returned scant seconds later with a stricken look on its face. Dumbledore conferred with it quietly, his face growing more somber with every word. He motioned for the rest of the teachers to join him, and whispered to them.
The Great Hall grew silent.
"Class is canceled for the rest of the day." Dumbledore said. "Return at once to your common rooms."
A grinning dark-haired Gryffindor fifth year plopped himself down in front of Hermione and extended his hand. Hermione scowled a deposited a galleon into his palm.
