Erm...Hi?

Sorry this took so long. I remember reading a review asking for an update for Christmas. I got about 2k words done and then hit a proverbial brick wall. I was not satisfied with the chapter so I rewrote most of it. Also, my fraternity had its initiation week for new members this past week and my new job with the student newspaper began...

Right. How about I stop making excuses and just let you read the damn chapter, okay? Okay

Review, if you think the story is worth it. Seriously. Knowing someone took time out of their day to write me back means the world to me.

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Enjoy.


Chapter 7: The Darkness Stirs

Harry had seen several of his classmates flinch as the hat was put upon their head. Now he knew why.

'Hi, hat,' Harry thought awkwardly. How did one communicate with a bloody talking hat without speaking, anyway?

'Just as you did,' was the drawling reply from the hat. 'To the duty at hand, however. An enormous amount of talent you have here – and believe you me, I do not state that as often as I would like. Talent…oh my yes, that will not be a problem.'

Harry knew he was grinning so he ducked his head.

'Thanks,' Harry thought.

'No need to thank me,' the Sorting Hat replied. 'I am only stating what I see. There is also much more pain in your past than is common for a boy your age. An orphanage…most children I sort from orphanages tend to not be the happiest bunch. Yes, not many pleasant memories here.'

'Spot on so far, hat,' Harry mentally grunted. 'What else?'

'Of course, your motivation is…unparalleled. But how should I sort you?

'Hufflepuff is out of the question, I think. You are more driven than anyone in that house – you'd scare them, quite frankly.'

'Wouldn't want that,' Harry mentally snickered. 'Though Cedric hasn't been scared of me.'

'Only a matter of time,' the Sorting Hat said with amusement. 'Gryffindor…no. With your past, you are simply incompatible with Gryffindor though you hold many of Godric's favored traits. It's all about the current crowd, you know. And again, I think you'd scare the current Gryffindor's as well.'

'I'm a scary guy then,' Harry thought distractedly. 'Say, isn't this taking a bit long?'

'Longest so far today,' the Sorting Hat affirmed. 'You're interesting so I'll take my time, thank you.'

Harry laughed audibly at that, making the first few rows of people start to whisper.

'Ravenclaw is a possibility,' the hat spoke suddenly. 'Your intelligence would rival any in the house. My only concern is that Ravenclaw would not provide enough…depth for you.'

'What exactly do you mean by d-'

'Take my word for it, Harry Potter.'

'Alright then.'

The hat gave a mental snort. 'Slytherin…another possibility. Salazar would value your bravery and drive to succeed. Slytherin would definitely help you on your way to greatness, no doubt about that.'

'Sounds like a no-brainer to me, then,' Harry thought.

'Slytherin's a tough road for any wizard,' the hat admitted. 'Purebloods are a majority there and they play by their own rules. Can you handle it?'

'Of course,' Harry thought indignantly. 'I can deal with whatever I need to.'

'It sounds then as though you would like to join the Slytherins, Mr. Potter,' the hat said dryly.

'I want to go where I'll fit best, where I'll learn the most,' Harry thought firmly. 'If that's Slytherin, then I'll go to Slytherin.'

'Expectations for you would have you elsewhere,' the Sorting Hat spoke amusedly. 'But no matter. I've made my decision; before I announce my verdict, however…welcome both to the Wizarding World and to Hogwarts, Harry Potter. SLYTHERIN will be glad to have you.'

The Sorting Hat was plucked from his head and Harry blinked at the light. Rising, Harry steered himself to the Slytherin table where Draco was grinning like a buffoon. Harry was only vaguely aware of the applause he was receiving. It was loud, though he could see the disappointed faces. It seemed as if students from every house had wanted him.

"Welcome, Harry," Draco said delightedly, scooting over to preserve Harry a spot next to him.

Harry rolled his eyes at the boy's exuberance, but nodded anyway. "Thanks, Draco."

Harry carefully stepped over the bench to sit down; getting used to robes would be a bit of a challenge. Draco was still beaming at him, causing Harry's lips to quirk. Harry, however, was looking toward the head table. The Sorting Hat had distracted him, but he could not forget the pain he had felt when he looked at the man with the turban. Harry's brow creased; the man in the turban was no longer looking at him.

Professor Snape was though. The potions professor seemed puzzled, but at least he was not openly hostile. Still, the constant attention was unsettling.

"Are you alright, Harry? What was the problem earlier?" Draco muttered softly. At least he had the sense to be quiet about it.

"I'm fine," Harry murmured breaking eye contact with the potions professor. "And now's not the time, okay?"

"So you're Harry Potter, eh?" Harry's eyes fixed on a thin boy from across the table. Harry recalled seeing him on one of the boats earlier. The boy had brown hair reaching down gracefully to his eyebrows and bright blue eyes.

"Theodore Nott," the boy introduced, sticking out his right hand. Harry shook it but said nothing else.

"Ew – Theo, you don't want to touch the halfblood. You might catch something," Parkinson sneered from down the table, her arms crossed. Harry found himself rolling his eyes again as Nott smirked.

"It's not his choice to be a halfblood, is it?" Nott questioned, his eyes shifting to Harry. "If Potter's smart enough to hang around Draco, he's worth something, at least."

"Thanks," Harry said sardonically.

"It doesn't change what he is," Parkinson interjected with a baleful glare at Harry.

"Nor does it change what you are, Pansy," Draco sighed. "Annoying."

"Draco!" Parkinson gasped as Nott snickered.

Harry ignored Parkinson in favor of surveying the table. Crabbe and Goyle were seated down the table next to a burly looking girl scowling at an empty plate. Across from her sat a girl who appeared much more pleasant, speaking softly to one of the older students.

"So how's your father, Theodore?" Draco said wearily, ignoring Parkinson's tantrum.

"As well as I could hope," the boy replied. "Father's been a bit demanding lately but what else is new?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Nott's words but said nothing. He knew nothing about the boy to comment on, anyway.

"My father's fairly old," Theo said, as if reading Harry's thoughts. "And damn strict. Has a certain way he wants everything done - a way that I just have trouble with sometimes."

Harry nodded. He could relate to that, even though he had no parents. The orphanage had rules that made no sense. For that reason, Harry ignored them.

"So how many of the Slytherins do you know, Potter?"

Harry grinned at Nott. At least the boy was nice enough. "I met Draco this past summer. Other than that, I shared a compartment with Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson – "

"Pity," Nott smirked, causing the girl to huff. Harry snickered in return.

"Zabini, Blaise!"

"And him," Harry gestured to the dark skinned boy sitting down on the stool.

Nott nodded as Draco fidgeted to Harry's right.

"Zabini needs to get in Slytherin already; I'm hungry," Draco muttered.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"There you go," Harry said amusedly as he glanced up at the Head Table. The wizard in the turban was clapping shakily for Zabini, but his eyes found Harry's once more. There was no pain this time.

The Headmaster stood to speak as McGonagall removed the stool and Sorting Hat from the hall. Albus Dumbledore was taller than Harry had imagined, and seemed to have a flair for the extravagant. The Headmaster was wearing robes with stars and moons decorating the cloth in a color that was causing Harry's eyes some stress. The wizard was beaming at the students, gesturing out to them with wide arms.

"To our new students, welcome!" He said. "And to the rest, welcome back! There are several start of term items that need to be addressed, but they can all wait; in the meantime, tuck in!"

Harry's eyebrows raised of their own volition as the table filled with food. His meal with the Malfoys had been the best of his life. But even that seemed to pale in comparison to Hogwarts.

He had never seen so many things that he wanted to eat all at one table before. Plates upon plates of food lined the wooden table. The aroma of potatoes and meats filled Harry's senses, drawing a smile from the boy.

"Steak or fish, Draco?" Harry grinned, looking over at the boy. Draco already had a plate full of food and a fork sticking out of his mouth.

Draco paused to swallow before saying simply, "Both."

Harry sighed in contentment as he set down his fork. Treacle tart was a delicacy that he had never had the opportunity to enjoy. That was, until now. The conversation around him was peaceful and the food was spectacular. Harry knew he was grinning like a loon, but there was nothing for it. Nott and Zabini had shaken hands as the food had appeared. It seemed that the two knew each other well. That was fine, in Harry's opinion; the two boys were fun. Between them and Draco's company, Harry had thoroughly enjoyed the dinner.

"Excuse me, Potter."

A hand landed gently on Harry's shoulder as he turned around. An older boy was leaning in to talk to him, a shiny badge on his chest.

"Professor Snape would like to have a word with you after the Headmaster's speech. I'll come get you and show you the way to his office once we are dismissed, alright?"

Harry nodded, ignoring Draco's look of puzzlement beside him. "Thanks."

"Not a problem," the boy said. With a final pat on his shoulder, the boy walked off back down the table.

"Huh," Harry said, turning around to look at the other boys. "I wonder what that's about."

"I do not know, Harry, but remember what I told you about my godfather; he can be a bit difficult at times," Draco muttered, a grimace crossing his face.

"Isn't it obvious?" Nott grinned. He rolled his eyes at the three shaking their heads. "Potter, you're a bloody celebrity. The professor is going to have to deal with a lot in return for your Sorting. Just think – he needs your cooperation. You receive fan mail, right?"

Harry shook his head again with wide eyes. God forsake him if he was receiving fan mail.

"Well, he'll need to know things like that," Nott laughed. "Especially in terms of his authority. If you won't follow him, after all, how can he get others to?"

Harry was saved from responding as the Headmaster stood once more.

"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts! I have just a few items that need addressing…"

Harry split his attention from the Headmaster. Snape was looking at him once again. Harry nodded respectfully at the man. The professor nodded swiftly in return before returning his attention to his drink. Harry scoffed at the warnings about the man; he seemed decent enough. Harry let his eyes drift to Professor McGonagall. She was looking at him as well.

'Might as well get a reaction out of her,' Harry smirked inwardly. He offered the woman a cheery wave and grin, earning a small shake of her head and pursed lips in return.

" – I would also like to introduce our newest professor, Professor Quirrell. Professor Quirrell will be taking on the task of teaching Defense of the Dark Arts. Good luck, Professor!"

Sparse clapping met the man as he shakily stood and Harry's eyes narrowed. Why had his forehead hurt when the man had looked at him? There was more to Professor Quirrell than being just a quivering, nervous adult, at the very least.

"On a more serious note, I must inform you all that the third floor corridor is out of bounds to all students, including prefects. Not only that, but I must caution you further; any who travel through this corridor can expect to die a most painful death."

Gasps gave way to fierce whispers at that last statement. Harry found himself laughing; something that dangerous was being held in a school?

"I'll have to figure out what that is all about. Draco, you can come with me!" Harry chuckled.

Draco paled. "Are you kidding me, Potter? Why on earth would I follow – "

"And now there is only one thing left to address – the school song!" The Headmaster clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. "Up you get! Let's show a little school spirit before we tuck ourselves away for the night!"

"I think now would be a great time to leave."

The boy was back, grimacing at the Headmaster. "C'mon, Potter. Professor Snape is leaving as well."

And so he was. The professor has slipped stealthily away from the table and out a side door of the Hall, his robes rippling behind him.

"Alright, then." Harry nodded to the other boys. "I'll see you later, I guess."

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but closed it in favor of nodding back. Harry allowed the older boy to steer him away from the singing masses and out into the corridors.

"Much better," the taller boy sighed. "I was ready to get out of that hall."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not much of a singer, either. The rest was pretty excellent, though."

Harry studied the boy for a moment. The boy's black hair swept out of his face and minor traces of facial hair dusted his jaw. The boy's hazel eyes met his.

"Well then," said the boy. "I'm Felix Sykes, Potter. Welcome to Slytherin."

Harry shook the larger hand. "Thanks. Do you have any idea why Professor Snape wants to see me? I reckon I haven't had enough time to do anything wrong yet."

Sykes smirked.

"I have no idea," the boy admitted. "But I assume it's nothing bad. I will warn you that Professor Snape can be fairly vicious when he wants to be."

"I keep hearing that," Harry grinned. "He can't be that bad, can he? I mean, the man is a teacher, after all. If he's so mean, how does he teach?"

Sykes shook his head. "Mean is not the right word for him. Professor Snape is very demanding. He's an acclaimed Potions Master; with that title, he has a right to be a bit demanding, doesn't he?

"Luckily for us," Sykes continued. "He's our Head of House. He was in Slytherin while he was a student here. Professor Snape favors us a bit. He will let you know what he expects from you – as a matter of fact, that's probably why he wants to meet with you."

"Because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry muttered, snorting as the older boy grinned at him.

"Such a fancy title, Potter," the boy teased. "When do you plan on showing off your special powers?"

Harry shoved the boy in response, making Sykes laugh even harder.

Aside from that, the journey to Professor Snape's office was peaceful. Harry spent an inordinate amount of time looking around him. The halls were beautiful. Paintings hung on either side of the halls, containing people who waved and shouted greetings to the both of them. Harry was already fond of the school. The silence around him was slightly disconcerting, though. Growing up in the blasted orphanage, Harry was not used to quietness.

"Here we are, Potter," Sykes remarked. A sturdy wooden door stood in front of them. Harry looked to the boy. "Should I just enter or knock or what?"

"Knock," Sykes grinned. "Always knock with Professor Snape. The Potions classroom is right over there, by the way."

Sykes beckoned to a door down the dim hallway. Harry could make out the outline of a black door but little else.

"You'd better get in there," Sykes urged. "Professor Snape values punctuality." The older boy set off down the corridor, leaving Harry standing alone in front of the door.

'Might as well get on with it,' Harry sighed, knocking on the door.

"Enter."

The man's voice was deep and drawling, sending a shudder down Harry's spine. Harry exhaled slowly before pushing the door open.

Snape's office was dimly lit with glass jars taking up most of the wall space, filled with who knows what. Well, Snape probably knew. A wall clock hung on the wall behind a large, black desk. The desk was intimidating enough, but the man leaning on it with his arms crossed was even more so.

"Mr. Potter," The man began silkily, smoothly, sending another shudder down Harry's spine. "Pardon my posture. It is such an honor to meet a celebrity, after all."

The man righted himself from the desk, his features morphing themselves into a slight sneer. Harry had no clue how to respond. The man was not acting overtly hostile, but the edge to his words was making Harry a bit nervous.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said quietly. Perhaps the man was as easy to deter as the old orphanage matrons? They usually left him alone after a few soft-spoken words.

Professor Snape nodded back sharply, his eyes scrutinizing him with an unsettling intensity. "It will be a better one if you can assure me that you do not lack the drive I expect in my Slytherins. Where would you look to find a bezoar, Mr. Potter?"

Harry started. The man just wanted to quiz him? "In a goat's stomach, Professor. They can cure most ingested poisons – except for ones that can negate a Bezoar's acidity."

The man nodded sharply once more, approaching Harry with silent steps. "You have enough sense to read beforehand – do not expect praise from me for meeting my expectations. I only praise those who exceed my expectations. Be forewarned; my expectations are very high."

"Yes sir," said Harry.

The man stared at him for a few seconds before gesturing to a chair. "Sit."

Harry moved past the man to sit in the offered chair. It was rather uncomfortable, but that was probably to be expected for a teacher's office.

Professor Snape glided past him to sit in the leather chair resting behind the black desk. "How do you take your tea, Mr. Potter?"

Harry raised his eyebrows but answered dutifully. "Two sugars, sir."

Professor Snape snapped long fingers and two cups of tea appeared on the table. Harry nodded his thanks and took a small sip. The liquid gave him a small respite from Snape's intense stare.

"My godson pleaded for me to play nice with you," Professor Snape said as Harry set down his cup. The man's black eyes crinkled as they narrowed. "Unfortunately, I do not play nice."

Harry stared at the man, waiting for him to continue.

"I loathed your father," Professor Snape admitted, a hint of a growl under his voice. "We were in the same year while we were students. No doubt you would like to hear pleasantries regarding your father. You would like to hear what a kind soul he was, yes?"

'How on earth do I answer something like that?' Harry thought wildly. He remained silent.

Professor Snape was leaning towards Harry, a sadistic gleam in his eye. Harry assumed the man was enjoying the opportunity to speak ill of his father.

"I have no fond memories of the man. He and his merry band of misfits were bullish, brutish, and the bane of my existence as an adolescent.

"And so let me warn you now, Mr. Potter, because I will not tolerate anything else; if you show even an ounce of the arrogance your father so proudly wore, your life here at Hogwarts will not be pleasant."

The man's voice lowered into a harsh growl at the end, his teeth bared and eyes unforgiving. Harry nodded solemnly, uttering a soft "Yes, sir." What else was he to do?

"Draco has asked that I reserve judgment on you," Professor Snape continued. "And I shall do so. Prove yourself to me in class. I expect you to excel not only in my course, but in every course that you take during your seven years at Hogwarts – it is an expectation I hold for all of my Slytherins.

"I will speak with your yearmates in the morning before breakfast. There are some topics that I would like to breach with them before they start their careers here at Hogwarts. On the walls near each of the first year dorms, there is a map of the entire school that can be copied with the spell "Duplicatus." I will not allow Slytherins to wander around the school in search of their classes."

Harry eyed the man. Professor Snape had begun pacing at the beginning of his speech and stopped in front of Harry's chair, eyeing him expectantly. The growl in his voice added a threatening "or else" to his message.

"I will tell them, sir," Harry said. "Is there anything else you would like to talk to me about?"

"Remember my warnings," Professor Snape said. "And I shall see you in class tomorrow. You can expect more difficult questions, there. I shall show you the way to the common room."

Harry finished his last sip of tea and jumped up from his seat. Professor Snape's office was giving him the jitters, anyway. Harry followed the professor down the hallway that Sykes had left. The common room was just down the hall after making two lefts and Professor Snape had not said a word to him since leaving the office. Maybe Draco had a point – the professor was a bit creepy.

"Generare Atrum."

The blank wall on the right side of the corridor slowly slid open, revealing a luxurious dark room furnished to the teeth. Black, leather couches and chairs decorated the living space in front of the fireplace. Chairs, desks, and lamps – all black – sat behind the couches near the stairs that led to the dorm rooms. The entire space was bathed in a comfortable green hue. Harry ducked his head and slipped by the professor, but stopped when a hand gripped his shoulder firmly.

"Until tomorrow, Potter," Professor Snape drawled, a gleam in his eyes that Harry did not want to fully acknowledge.

The hand pushed him forward with a minor bit of force. Harry grimaced as the wall slid shut. Okay, the professor was really creepy.

"Harry, are you okay?"

Draco was walking towards him, concern creasing his brow. Behind him, Zabini and Nott lazily looked on from one of the black couches in the room.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Professor Snape just wanted to talk. We should be on good terms, or at least passable ones, I think."

"Good," Draco said, relief flooding his features. He told me about your father. I was afraid that your father would be a problem."

"I never knew the man," Harry said incredulously. "How can I defend someone I never knew?"

"It would be pointless and sentimental," said Zabini. "I've had several 'fathers' but none were ever around long."

Nott snorted. "Your mother is dangerous, mate. That would be why."

Harry shook his head as the two began laughing. Honestly, he had had enough socializing for one day.

"I think I'm going to head downstairs, okay guys?" Harry said, motioning to the stairs leading down to their dorm room.

Nott and Zabini ignored him, continuing to talk. Draco nodded. "Let's go then."

Harry frowned. "I wanted to read, actually."

"And you can," Draco acknowledged. "After you tell me what happened when we were in line getting Sorted."

Harry sighed. "Alright, come on then."

The two boys maneuvered past the couches and people conversing to descend to the first year dorms. Just as Professor Snape had said, a map of the castle was positioned outside of the door. Harry opened the door and smiled as he looked at the room. It was wide and rectangular with a door on the other side of the room, most likely leading to a bathroom. Seven large four-poster beds lined the walls with small desks in the middle of the room, much like the ones in the common room. Harry spotted his trunk in front of the door nearest the bathroom.

"So – talk," Draco said, drawing a chair from the desk to sit in. "You would not believe how much I've suffered waiting to hear what happened."

Harry laughed softly. "Heaven forbid a Malfoy have to wait for anything."

Draco smirked, but said nothing else.

Harry sighed as he sat down on his new bed, reveling in its softness. "When we were in line, I was looking around the Head Table. When I looked at the new Defense teacher – "

"Quirrell?" Draco questioned, his eyebrows drawing together. "The stuttering idiot?"

"Yeah, him," said Harry, his fingers stroking the soft blanket on his bed. "He was looking at me so intensely and it frightened me. And then, my scar started hurting really badly. Needless to say, it was a bit freaky."

Draco's eyes widened. "Your scar hurt? I've never heard of such a thing. Has it ever done that before?"

Harry shook his head. He was lying, but Draco did not need to know about his meeting with the thief of Gringotts.

Draco stood, jumping slightly on the balls of his feet. "How could the blubbering idiot cause something like that? It had to be a coincidence, right? I'll look up curse scars sometime this week to see if anything could cause that."

Harry laughed, dropping the blanket.

"I doubt anyone had done research on a curse scar caused by the Killing Curse, Draco," Harry said sardonically. "It just gave me a scare. The man was looking at me so weirdly. I plan to keep an eye on him though, at the very least."

Draco sighed. "I'll help you, I guess. Blast it, Potter; it's the first day and you are already causing trouble."

Harry laughed, shrugging his shoulders. "It's what I do. Can I read now? I've almost finished this book."

Draco nodded, walking to his own bed. "I have a book in here from father that I would like to read as well. It covers modern modifications to runes. You should read it sometime."

"I may," Harry admitted, flipping open his book that was already near the end. "In the meantime, I have the other books your father lent me."

Harry shut the curtains around his bed, drew his wand and uttered a quick "Lumos."

Hogwarts was truly a majestic place, Harry mused. The grounds were green and lush, the castle was old and storied, and the professors – perhaps with the exception of the new Defense teacher, Professor Quirrell – were a wealth of knowledge. There was potential here, at the very least, something that he had never found at the orphanage. This was a place to come into his power, to learn of a new world that suited him so much better that the one he had left.

Here, Harry had friends, something the orphanage and Muggle world had never offered him. Draco was almost Harry's opposite; he was born into a wealthy family and lived with magic his whole life. Cedric was much less complicated. The Hufflepuff simply liked him for who he was – Harry. Harry grinned in remembrance of their first meeting. Harry could certainly return the favor.

And now, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini seemed to like him well enough. That was welcome as well. The boys were already friends with each other and knew Draco well. Harry could certainly fit into whatever social structure the three already had in place.

Tomorrow was a new dawn, not only in light but in his life. He would attend magical classes for the first time, and he may even have the time to approach the Headmaster for private lessons.

'In the meantime,' Harry thought gleefully, opening the curtains to place his finished book in his trunk and to retrieve Defensive Dueling: Dodging, Deflecting, Disarming, Defeating. 'I have a new book to read.'

Life was looking up.


The door slammed violently, and Quirinus Quirrell's breath came in raspy heaves.

The voice in his head chuckled sinisterly.

'Get out, get out! I never wanted you here! You are a monster!' He thought desperately, tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

'Liar,' the voice said amusedly. 'You wanted my power and you came to me willingly. However, Quirinus, your folly was in believing that I could be subdued. Lord Voldemort can be controlled by no man. I am not a monster, either; I am simply what society has made me. I shall also be society's savior.'

'Leave me alone,' Quirrell moaned, his hands clasping the sides of his head as he staggered through the door to his bedroom. 'Why must you torment me? I will never do your bidding!'

'Oh, you shall do as I say, Quirinus. You are alone in your struggle; who would ever believe you?' Lord Voldemort chuckled before his voice grew icy. 'Our original deal was very clear; you were to act as a host to me, allowing me to grow in strength while seeking the Philosopher's Stone. In return, I promised you glory and power that you can only imagine.

'Why must you fight me, Quirinus? Surely you see that your efforts are futile? You are only preventing me from growing stronger. You cannot stop me from possessing you. And once I have the Philosopher's Stone, I daresay that I shall have no need for such a lowly, uncooperative servant.'

Quirrell sat down shakily, looking into the full length mirror across the room. His skin was pale and beaded with sweat. His hands trembled with a fear that was not faked. The…thing inside him was ugly, perverted in its morals, and he wanted so badly to be removed from his decision. Power was not worth this.

'I will never help you get the Philosopher's Stone,' Quirrell said firmly, even as a shudder of fear ran down his spine. 'I will stop you if it is the last thing I ever do.'

'Do you not understand?' Lord Voldemort softly intoned. 'I, Quirinus, am all powerful. I cannot be stopped - not by the likes of a pathetic excuse of a wizard like you, nor by a wizard like Dumbledore. Would you like proof of my power? You did not think I would not notice you trying to reach out to Harry Potter, did you? How is an eleven year old boy supposed to save you?'

Quirrell barely kept the cry of pain from reaching his mouth. 'He has beaten you once before. He can do it again. He will save me, I am sure of it!'

'Ah,' Lord Voldemort replied teasingly. 'And why should he want to? He is but a boy. Why should he have to do a man's work when said man cannot do it himself?'

'Because he beat you once before!' Quirrell proclaimed. 'You cannot kill him! He's the Boy-Who-Lived!'

'Yes, you've said as much,' Lord Voldemort drawled. 'But he was only a baby at the time. Why would he fight me now when he could join me instead?'

'Because you are a monster!' Quirrell gasped, his stomach wrenching painfully. 'He would never join a monster like you!'

'I grow weary of this conversation. You, Quirinus, are powerless to stop me. And now, I shall give you a taste of my power.'

Quirinus Quirrell drowned in pain as a sinister laugh raced through his mind and around bedroom. The pain was enough to pass out from, but something kept his body upright. His reflection in the mirror across the room morphed to accommodate the new, gleaming red eyes.


Each chapter is bringing us closer and closer to the "game changers" of this story. It will not follow canon for long. Well, I mean, it will, but with certain irredeemable changes that will make it truly unique.

I know exactly how this next chapter will go and I will begin writing it tomorrow. It will transition us much more than this one did. Voldemort is on the move, folks.

Until next time.