Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Heir

Chapter Nine-

The Christmas holidays passed swiftly after the Mirror of Erised incident, and before Harry knew it Draco had returned to the castle, wearing his platinum bracelet and looking thinner and paler than ever. Harry hated the sight of him like that, but soon enough the fragile blonde was smiling and laughing once more, and after a few good meals didn't look quite so fragile, and so Harry relaxed. It wasn't as though there was anything he could do for Draco without Draco confiding in him, anyway. So he focused on other things, things like the package secreted away on the third floor.

In the end, Harry decided not to ask Professor Snape for information about the package most likely hidden away in the third floor corridor. He didn't want to upset the Professor. It was obvious after their visit with him on Christmas day that the Professor wasn't quite over Tom, even if it had been the better part of a decade since Tom's passing. And anyway it didn't matter because, in a stroke of luck that didn't often come for him, Harry didn't have to ask anyone at all. The information wound up coming to him from a very unlikely source: Hagrid.

"I don't understand why we're doing this again," Draco grumbled. He was slogging through the snow at Harry's side, Ron trudging away with the both of them, though not complaining nearly as much as Draco had.

"You certainly didn't have to come," Harry said with a small sigh. He adored both of his friends, he really did, but did Draco have to be so very... prissy? Yes, that was the word he wanted. Draco was very prissy, and it was rather annoying at times. "I was just talking to Hagrid earlier, thanking him for the lovely flute he gave me for Christmas, and he invited me over to his hut to see something."

"Like I'm going to let you visit that barbarian by yourself!" Draco hissed, indignant.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, to defend Hagrid and tell Draco that Hagrid was a perfectly nice half-giant, when Tom interrupted. ~I see that Draco and I can agree on one thing at least,~ Tom piped up from the back of Harry's mind. ~He probably wants to show you yet another dangerous monster he thinks is adorable.~

~I'm sensing some bitterness in there about something,~ Harry shot back, and got nothing but silence from Tom for his trouble. With a barely noticeable smirk, he said to Draco what he'd been planning on before Tom could interrupt. "Hagrid, while certainly not conventional, is not a barbarian. He's a very kind man who gifted Minerva to me, and in doing so gave me my first ever birthday present. And, he gave me a perfectly lovely Christmas present on top of that. So I'm going to visit him, because you never know when having a friend like Hagrid might come in handy."

"If you insist," Draco growled. "And just so long as my Christmas present was better than some flute."

Harry was just about to open his mouth to respond that, yes, as a matter of fact of course it was, but Ron instead chimed in with, "I don't see why you're so cranky, Draco, you didn't have to come." Clearly Harry was going to have to practice the valuable skill of interrupting people if he ever wanted to get a word in edgewise.

Though, really, he should be used to this by now. He'd only been friends with Ron and Draco for how long? At least Ron was looking rather excited about meeting with Hagrid; ever since he'd seen Hagrid kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek during the Christmas feast he'd wanted to meet the groundskeeper. Anybody that had the nerve to do that was alright in Ron's book, apparently. He'd said as much to Harry just after Harry had returned from Professor Snape's rooms.

"How many times have I told you, Weasley, don't call me by my name! I haven't given you permission!" Draco seethed.

"Oh, come off it, Draco. After the amazing present you gave me? You can't tell me that you don't think of me as a friend!" Ron said. As he spoke, he fingered the warm sky-blue cloak that had been one of the many pieces of clothing that he and Harry had both received.

"That was for the honor of Slytherin house! Your clothing was deplorable, Weasley!" Draco protested, but there wasn't any bite in his words.

Harry was very relieved to interrupt the rather familiar argument by saying, "Guys, we're here." Both Ron and Draco stopped their bickering to stare at the rather run-down little cottage. Harry could still remember the first time he'd seen it only a month or so ago. He remembered thinking that it was somehow both not what he'd expected and exactly what he'd believed it would be.

"This is where he lives?" Draco asked, managing to fit so much more disdain into those five words than Harry had ever thought possible. "What an absolute dump."

"I think it has character," Ron shot back.

When Draco opened his mouth to respond, Harry rolled his eyes. "Both of you behave yourselves," he admonished. He then, without waiting for a response from either of them, walked right up to the door and knocked on it. He was answered almost immediately by a series of loud, booming barks that made him take an apprehensive step back. But he'd met Fang once already, so he was prepared when the door opened and the huge boarhound leapt out at him gleefully.

Harry hated dogs, loathed them with a passion after dealing with Aunt Marge's nasty mutt, but he played along gamely and rubbed at Fang's ears, cooing over the slobbering hound like he might have cooed over Minerva in his more gooey moments. Not that he ever had gooey moments. As a result, he got dog fur all over himself, plus his left sleeve covered in doggy drool, which had the bonus of making Draco look absolutely horrified which couldn't possibly be a bad thing. The blond was entirely too careful over his own appearance, and far too eager to instruct everybody else on why they should be as well.

"How was your Christmas, Hagrid?" Harry asked politely once everything had settled down and they were all seated around Hagrid's roughly carved table. He was looking around the room, trying to figure out what Hagrid had wanted him to see, when his eyes fell upon something large and distinctly egg-shaped over in the corner. His eyes widened, and he heard Tom start swearing in the back of his mind. He tuned Tom out, because otherwise Tom would be very put out at himself later on for using those words where Harry, an impressionable eleven year old, could hear.

"It wasn' bad," the half-giant rumbled. "Go' a lo' of nice stuff; thanks fer tha' book yeh got me, Harry. An' Fang loved the biscuits yeh go' fer 'im." Hagrid offered him a wide, guileless smile.

Harry couldn't help but return it. There was something so very kind and wholesome about the half-giant that Harry really appreciated. "I'm glad you liked them! The flute's awesome, even if I still don't quite know how to play it properly. But I'm trying!"

"Yes, and we all wish you would stop trying," Draco threw out, a grimace on his face. "He always seems to be trying when the rest of us are sleeping," he offered to Hagrid. Draco took a sip of his tea, and Harry clearly saw the young man hide a grimace at the taste.

"Yeah, but if I try to practice the flute before I do my homework, it gives Draco fits. So I lose either way," Harry said with a sort of mock-despondence that made Draco glower at him. At least until he passed Draco the cream and sugar for the tea. "But Hagrid, you said you wanted to show me something? Is it perhaps that dragon egg that you're trying so hard to pretend isn't in the corner there?"

Hagrid flushed and said, "Harry, yeh know I always wanted one fer meself." The half-giant walked over to the egg and knelt down next to it, gently running a hand along the black shell. "This one'll be mine ter take care of an' to raise as me own. I've already decided I'm gonna call 'im Norbert when he hatches," Hagrid added enthusiastically.

"It's a dragon egg," Ron said, sounding entirely nonplussed. "They're illegal." He stood up, though, and went over to the egg to poke at it a bit, clearly quite curious.

"You could get sent to Azkaban this time. It's enough that you were expelled for keeping an Acromantula on school grounds, but this?" Draco sneered derisively and added, "If it hatches, you'll have a lot more trouble on your hands than you were wanting."

"Not that we're going to tell anyone, or anything like that," Harry said hastily, kicking Draco's foot under the table. The blond was startled by the kick, but nodded once, sharply. "We just think that maybe we should find a safer place for the dragon? You know, safer than at a school where it might hatch and accidentally hurt somebody."

"Aww, Harry, it'll be jes' a baby when it hatches, it won' hur' nobody," Hagrid said, staring down at the egg rather forlornly. "'sides, I though' I could replace Fluffy the Cerberus with 'im once he's grown a bi'," Hagrid added thoughtfully.

"Fluffy the... Cerberus?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raising.

Hagrid froze. "I shouldn'ta tol' yeh that," the half-giant rumbled. "Forget I said anythin' 'bout that," he suggested.

Harry's eyes widened. "Hagrid?" he asked, as innocently as he could. "Is there a Cerberus in the school guarding the package you picked up from Gringotts that's in the third floor corridor?"

"Here now, tha' package is 'tween Nicholas Flamel an' the Headmaster, and it isn' none o' your business!" Hagrid exclaimed.

"Of course it isn't!" Harry exclaimed, and offered Hagrid his most innocent look ever. It worked, because Hagrid deflated almost immediately. ~Tom, what did Albus and Nicholas Flamel work on together, anyway?~ "But Hagrid, in all honesty, I don't think that you should be keeping a baby dragon here. I think that it's just asking for trouble."

~I'm thinking, child. Focus on this idiot's dragon problem while I figure out what's going on,~ Tom sent back rather peevishly. Harry's eyebrows arched in surprise before he brought his expression back under control, but thankfully nobody seemed to have noticed.

"But he doesn' have anywhere else ter go," Hagrid was complaining. "'f I send him somewhere, they migh' no' take proper care o' him. An' he's jes' an egg, he can' survive ou' there on 'is own."

Ron spoke up then with the offer of, "My brother works at a dragon reserve. I'm sure that they'd be able to take him on for you."

Hagrid looked so pathetically grateful at that it made Harry want to throttle the man. Honestly, who thought that raising a dragon in a wooden hut of all things was a good idea?

In the end, Ron firecalled his brother from Hagrid's hut, and it was as simple as pushing the egg through the Floo before Hagrid could change his mind. Charlie promised Hagrid to send him regular updates on the baby dragon, and to send him pictures as soon as the egg hatched. And pictures of the egg. And pictures of the egg as it hatched. Lots and lots of pictures Charlie offered to appease Hagrid, and Hagrid seemed intent on wanting more before Harry finally gently suggested that it was time to end the firecall.

The three left Hagrid's hut that night feeling rather accomplished, and once they reached the dorms and Draco and Ron had gone to bed, Harry quietly thought to Tom, ~So who's Nicholas Flamel?~

Tom let out a sigh. ~Nicholas Flamel is a rather famous wizard. I haven't quite gotten up to him yet in your magical education, and for that I'm sorry. He's the only known creator of the Sorcerer's Stone, which is doubtlessly what is hidden away and what Quirrell wants.~

~So that means what, exactly?~ Harry asked, because he could sense that Tom still had more to say on the matter.

~It means that you've been right all along. The reason that Quirrell seems so familiar to you is that he's carrying a piece of my soul. And he wants to use the Sorcerer's Stone to bring about my resurrection.~ Tom's thoughts were weighty, but Harry couldn't quite make out the reason behind them. He was actually rather grateful for that, because it meant that they weren't close to merging. Not now, anyway.

~So we should help him, right?~ Harry asked, just to be certain. He already knew enough about the state of the wizarding world to know that he stood against Dumbledore. The man had left him with rotten, abusive Muggles and hadn't even bothered to check on him! Besides, Dumbledore would no doubt want to get rid of Tom, and Harry wasn't having that. Not before he had to, anyway.

And... while he didn't necessarily agree with all of Voldemort's ideas, Harry firmly believed that the Dark Lord was at least going in the right direction. Harry had seen for himself how Muggles feared that which they didn't understand; he believed that if the truth were ever to come out to Muggles they would seek to destroy wizards. And as Tom had taught him not so long ago, a wizard couldn't fight a gun. Which meant that for now, until Harry could think of a better way, he was on the side of the Dark.

~We should help him, definitely. He'll wait until the Headmaster is out of the school, and then he'll make his move. We'll move at the same time, and see if there isn't anything we can do to help him. If he doesn't need our help to get to the Stone, then we'll just leave things well enough alone.~ There was a moment of silence, then Tom added, ~Not that I think there's much that an eleven year old child can do that I can't, even if I am at a portion of my old power and reduced to possessing a blithering idiot.~

~Are you excited? You may be about to rise again,~ Harry said teasingly, not bothering to comment that he certainly wasn't a normal eleven year old anyway. ~Which was what you wanted all along.~

~I just don't know if it's too soon or not,~ Tom mused. And then, gently, ~It's late, Harry. You should rest. Morning will come all too soon, and you've had a rather busy day.~

Harry nodded and curled up under his blankets, slung a careful arm around Minerva the not-so-kittenish any longer, and was asleep practically before his eyes closed.

ooOOooOOoo

After the almost incident with Hagrid and the dragon egg, Harry buckled down and focused on his classes. Classes, he found, were generally quite easy once he put his mind to it. Even history, which was boring as anything with Binns teaching it, was fascinating when Harry read through some of the library books on his own. Of course, the fact that Harry was actually doing all of his course work on his own without Tom's help didn't stop Professor Snape from cornering him one evening and demanded that he follow him to his quarters once more.

Once they'd arrived, the Professor said quite sternly, "Earlier in the year, Tom answered some questions for you in my class." There was a severe frown on his face. From the look in the Professor's eyes, it was clear that he'd just now figured out what had happened on that first day of classes, when Harry had the two answers not in their first year textbook.

Harry flushed. He'd almost forgotten about that. "He hasn't done it since," Harry offered. "Well, other than last Wednesday, when I had to stabilize Neville's potion again. You'll have to forgive that; I didn't actually want to be covered in boils."

"I can certainly understand that," the Professor agreed with a sharp nod. "I would like to warn you, however, that if I catch the two of you cheating on any assignments, no matter what the reason is, I will be certain to provide you both with special assignments that will be challenging for Tom, and as such quite impossible for you, Mr. Potter."

Harry gulped. "You really won't have to do that, sir. Like I said, I haven't let Tom answer any questions for me since we accidentally did it the first time in your class. He insists that if it weren't Slytherin for me, it would have been Ravenclaw with the way that I hate to have a puzzle spoiled."

Tom pushed rather insistently against Harry's mind, so Harry sighed and took a step back with the whispered warning, "No kissing using my lips this time, okay?" Which had the added effect of Tom chuckling as he took over Harry's body.

"Honestly, Severus, the answers I gave him were more out of reflex than anything else. And it isn't as if you wouldn't have taken points had he not known the answers anyway," the Dark Lord added with a smirk.

"That, my Lord, is beside the point," Severus protested. He was smiling as he said so, but it seemed to be a bittersweet sort of smile. Harry felt such a pang of hurt for the Professor at that moment that he was hard pressed not to take his body back just to hug the man. Not that he could do that anyway. He still didn't know how to push Tom out of the 'driver's seat' of their body, just as Tom couldn't actively force Harry out of it.

But Tom seemed to hear his thoughts, and immediately stepped forward to hug the Potion's Master rather awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Severus," he murmured. "Sorry that I've done this to us."

They stood like that for a long moment, then Professor Snape sighed and placed his hands on Tom's shoulders and stepped away. "I'd rather know that you were alive and stuck in the body of a child than know that you were dead because of my mistakes," the man murmured.

"The less said about that prophecy the better," Tom grumbled. Tom leaned up just a bit, as though going to kiss the Professor once more, then froze and jerked back. "Was there anything else you needed from us?" Tom asked, cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

Harry was really glad it wasn't just him who was weirded out by this whole thing, even if Tom's reasons for being weirded out differed greatly from his own. How strange must it be to be so much shorter and younger and more vulnerable than the lover he'd previously commanded? Not to mention, how difficult it would be to know that Severus would be moving on, eventually, with another version of him. Harry felt awful for Tom, but there wasn't really anything he could do about it.

"That was all. I just think that Mr. Potter should learn magic on his own, not have everything fed to him by a spirit who's already had a chance to live out his school days," Severus responded dryly.

"You've nothing to worry about, Severus. I'm sure that had we been in another universe, Mr. Potter would most definitely have wound up in Ravenclaw. He's far too curious and intelligent for his own good." Tom smiled then turned control over their body back to Harry.

"Should I be insulted by that?" Harry wondered aloud, as he left the Professor's offices.

~Not at all, child. It was a compliment to your intelligence,~ Tom murmured back.

ooOOooOOoo

After that conversation with Professor Snape, Severus, as Tom constantly called him within Harry's head, Harry found that he had little to do but sit and wait. He was more than ready for all of his exams, having studied his texts to death at Draco's urging, and for his own entertainment, not that he would let that on, so all that remained to do was wait. It was pathetically boring, but it was made more bearable by the incredibly exciting Quidditch matches as well as Draco and Ron and their incessant bickering. Both of which annoyed Tom, but for some reason Harry found that to be more of a bonus than anything else.

Perhaps he simply felt the Dark Lord was far too stodgy to be sharing his eleven year old body? Oh how he'd laughed when Tom had caught that particular thought. Tom had been nearly incoherent with rage, and there was nothing he could do. Harry couldn't help it; he so delighted in needling the Dark Lord.

The moment came, as moments such as this tend to do, when Harry least expected it. It was at dinner on a night in early June when he realized that the Headmaster was not present at the high table. ~Tom?~ Harry asked, ~Do you think that Quirrell will make his move tonight?~

~I'd say it's almost a certainty,~ Tom answered.

~So then, we sneak out after curfew and see what we can do about aiding him, if he even needs our help?~ Harry suggested.

~That seems wise. But we will need to be cautious. I'm almost certain that this is a trap of some sort. Just... not necessarily for the Dark Lord.~

~You think Dumbledore's that onto us, then?~ Harry asked. He wanted to be absolutely certain of what they would be up against.

~I think there's a possibility that Dumbledore knows more than we want him to,~ Tom answered carefully.

Harry frowned into his mashed potatoes, but ate quickly and efficiently. He was certain he would need all of his energy for whatever lay ahead.

ooOOooOOoo

Harry waited until everybody in the dormitory was asleep. This was an easy enough thing to do, considering that both Ron and Theo snored rather loudly and Blaise was almost always the first one to sleep. Draco neither snored nor was he the first to sleep, but chances were fairly good that if everybody else was out then so was Draco. He never stayed awake much past the others, anyway, at least not that Harry had noticed.

Still, to be safe, Harry waited a good twenty minutes after Ron's snoring started, then he slid out of bed and got dressed as quickly and quietly as he could. He flung his invisibility cloak around his shoulders and crept down the stairs into the common room. He'd almost made it to the door when he heard a soft voice whisper, "So, you got an invisibility cloak for Christmas?"

Harry flushed with guilt and he lowered the hood of his cloak before turning to face Draco. The slender blonde was seated on the low couch closest to the door, looking right at him. It was clear that he'd been following Harry's progress through the room quite easily even with the cloak on. "It was a family heirloom, passed down anonymously from my father," he whispered. "You should be in bed, Draco," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"I'm not the one who's about to go sneaking off into some sort of danger. Confronting Professor Quirrell, perhaps?" Draco asked. He stood, revealing that he was dressed as well in robes that Harry had never seen. They were a deep green, so dark as to be almost black, and they were entirely open. There were silver runes etched along the hem of the robes, elegant and yet clearly serving a purpose of some sort other than just as decoration.

~Duelling robes,~ Tom supplied softly. ~Now that I think of it, you should have worn the set that Draco gave you for Christmas. They provide some protection from minor curses, and the better ones can also amplify the power of some spells. You'll recognize that kind by the trim on the arms of the robes, such as that on Draco's.~

"I'm not... what are you doing down here, Draco?" Harry asked softly, rather than answering Draco's assumption. He would rather not reveal everything about himself to his friend, despite the fact that he did want to trust both Draco and Ron with this other part of himself.

Draco closed his eyes. "My father sent me the most interesting set of instructions the other day. He tells me that there is a chance that our lord will rise again this night, and that my only task is to stop any who would interfere. Like the two Slytherins who should be Gryffindors that I seem to have erroneously befriended." As he spoke, Draco's voice grew more and more frigid, until it seemed as though ice was dripping from the words. It was an odd tone for Draco to take, and it took Harry several precious seconds to figure out why the blond was using it.

And then it clicked. These were not Draco's words. Draco looked far too anguished for the words to actually be his. He was repeating somebody, no doubt his father. As though Harry didn't already have enough reason to hate the man. "Then it's a good thing that I'm not planning on interfering in our Lord's resurrection, isn't it?" Harry asked gently.

Draco's breath left him in a soundless sigh. "I told my father. I told him that you were nothing like your father. That you truly were one of us. I told him about the spell on Halloween, Harry, you have to know that I told him! But he wouldn't listen, Harry. You have to understand that I told him!" Draco's pretty grey eyes were quite desperate, and his hand were shaking now. Harry felt so very sorry for the boy.

"I understand, Draco," Harry said softly, gently. He took a step towards the now-trembling boy and offered him one hand, as though to shake. "Do you want to come with me? We could witness our Lord's return together."

Draco's trembling hand came up to grasp at Harry's own. "I'd like that," the Malfoy heir whispered.

Harry wrapped them both in his cloak. As he did so, he heard Tom grumbling in the back of his mind, ~I'm rethinking the idea of you being friends with him, Harry. He might be a little more unstable than I'd anticipated.~

~Could that have something to do with, oh, I don't know, being abused by his father?~ Harry couldn't help but snark back. ~You know, that little minor detail that I've been wanting to do something about since Christmas?~

~It certainly could, and don't take that tone with me, child.~ Tom's voice was disapproving, and Harry couldn't help his smile.

"What's so funny?" Draco asked quietly, his voice infinitely more steady now that the two of them were under the cloak together and he knew that Harry wasn't going to betray the Dark Lord.

"It's a little complicated to explain," Harry responded, still not quite willing to tell Draco about Tom, although he thought maybe he might have to soon enough. Then they were setting off through the halls in search of the mysterious third floor corridor, and all of their attention was focused on not getting caught.

ooOOooOOoo

With Tom and Draco's help, it didn't take the two of them very long at all to navigate the traps that made up the guards for the Sorcerer's Stone. Harry had been concerned that the traps in question would prove too difficult for them, but they were actually quite simple. Simple enough for two eleven year olds to navigate without much input at all from Tom, in fact. Although, having Ron there certainly would have made the giant chess set much easier. As it was, Tom fed Harry instructions to get him through that mess; Harry never would have managed it. Draco might have, but Tom was too impatient to let him try.

~This is ridiculous. It's almost like he wanted you to get the stone,~ Harry complained as they stood before the final trap, clearly designed by Professor Snape. It was the only one that was even remotely difficult, mostly because Harry had demanded that Tom let he and Draco try to solve it since it was just a riddle. Draco solved it quite simply, and the two of them moved on through the flames guarding the stone.

Professor Quirrell was in there, pacing before, of all things, the Mirror of Erised, hissing and snarling to himself about how he couldn't get it, and why couldn't he get it? "All I want is the stone, you stupid mirror!" the Professor howled. "I can see myself holding it, so why can't I get it?"

"Perhaps we could be of some assistance?" Harry offered. ~How can we be of assistance, Tom?~ he added, and Tom burst into startled laughter.

~What, you didn't come here with a plan, little one?~ Tom asked, still chuckling. ~As it happens, I believe that we can get the stone out where my other self would fail.~

"Potter! What are you doing here? Isn't it past your bedtime?" Quirrell snarled, rounding on Harry. He drew his wand in one smooth motion, then frowned. "Malfoy? Are you really turning your back on your family by trying to stop me?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

Harry blinked, because Draco had drawn his wand as well and was pointing it at Quirrell. "No, sir, I just won't stand by and let you hurt Harry. He's here to help you, not to stop you," the blond explained softly.

"What is this? Quirrell, you fool, unbind me at once!" a sharp, familiar voice commanded, and Harry smiled. He would know that voice anywhere, even with his own eyes blindfolded.

"My Lord," Harry offered, and dropped to one knee. Tom had drilled him on the proper address of the Dark Lord when in public from the moment he'd gained awareness, practically, and Harry could do nothing that would embarrass the horcrux inside of him. He owed Tom that much, and so much more besides.

"My Lord," he heard Draco echo, and when he dared to glance out of the corner of his eye, saw that Draco had followed suit and was down on one knee as well.

"I'm almost positive that I'm no lord of yours, Potter," the Dark Lord said flatly, and Harry dared to glance up. What he saw made him grimace. The Dark Lord had attached his face to the back of Quirrell's head; it was quite gruesome looking actually. "And yet, what is this I sense from you? What power is this?"

"My Lord, you gave me something on the night you killed my parents," Harry whispered. "You gave me a piece of yourself that you didn't intend on separating. This piece, which I call Tom, has been instructing me for years on the wizarding world and its deficiencies. Your way, while still not the right way in my admittedly young opinion, is better than the mess we've got now. It would be my honor to assist you in your rise to glory."

"You're my horcrux," Voldemort murmured. "How... fascinating. And you say that the piece within you has gained sentience, yet has not tried to take you over. Truly a remarkable thing. Well, Potter, you've intrigued me." The Dark Lord said with a smirk, "Prove to me that you want to help me, and I'll let you leave this chamber alive while I contemplate your loyalty and your tale. Get me the stone, as Quirrell has failed to do."

Harry rose smoothly to his feet and stood before the mirror on Tom's instruction. ~Now, Harry, all I need for you to do is imagine that you're holding the stone, not using the stone. Keeping it safe, and above all else, not using it. And then look into the mirror,~ Tom whispered.

Harry closed his eyes, thought very fiercely of keeping the stone safe rather than using it, and glanced into the mirror. He saw himself, smiling, and placing an unassuming stone into his pocket. Once he felt the weight of the stone in said pocket, he turned and dropped to one knee once more, pulling the stone from his pocket and offering it up.

"My lord," he whispered.

"Good boy. Very good boy," the Dark Lord murmured. He snatched the stone from Harry's fingers, caressed it once, then said quietly, "But I can't have it looking as though the two of you were actually helpful, no, that would only make things worse for you in the long run."

Harry dared to look up, to see that Voldemort was tapping Quirrell's wand against his lips rather thoughtfully. "No, I've just the thing. I apologize, children, but it's for the best in the long run. I think you'll both agree that a touch of torture now is better than Azkaban until I can break you out. Crucio!" the Dark Lord shouted, and Draco began to writhe and scream.

Harry braced himself, and just in time as the Dark Lord once more shouted, "Crucio!" and the bolt of red light struck Harry full on. He screamed himself raw and hoarse, and the spell carried on for quite a long time, how long Harry couldn't exactly say, before it cut out rather abruptly.

As Harry lost his battle with consciousness, he heard the tap of footsteps and an old man's familiar voice saying, "Oh, dear, this isn't what was supposed to have happened at all. I wonder what could have gone wrong?"

And then he knew no more.