HALLELUJAH! IT'S AN UPDATE!
I hope it's alright...I have had no muse for so long, but I was suddenly hit with this!
Sorry for any mistakes if there are any.
Sorry if its boring.
But, at least it's an update!
DISCLAIMER: HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH THE FRANCISE BELONGS TO J.K ROWLING, NOT ME. I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, BUT ANY OC'S WILL BE MINE!
Finally first year is over.
Almost time for slashy M rated stuff!
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Voldemort taught Harry several spells of which he had never even heard of before.
Ron was a great subject to test upon, and Harry loved how he could make Ron scream in pain. What Harry did not love however, was one particular curse that he could not seem to be able to get the hang of.
"Delere Venas!" Harry called for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, and once again nothing happened.
Harry was beyond frustrated.
" I don't even understand what I'm doing wrong!" Harry sighed impatiently, running his hands through his hair.
"You are thinking too much on the magic within the spell. Focus your attention on the movements of your wrist. The magic will come to you naturally if you just let yourself be one with it."
Harry calmed himself, before raising his wand again. "Delere Venas!" Harry called whilst flicking his wand in a triangular motion.
Ron screamed in agony as the spell hit him and he started drowning in his own blood. Harry thought it was like viewing a work of art – Ron's body limp, hanging from the wall as blood cascading down his body and pooled at the floor.
"Well done, my little horcrux."
Harry blushed at the endearment, never having been called it before.
"Thankyou. Now, what should we do with him?" Harry questioning, indicating with his wand to Ron's dead form.
"There are several options from which you could choose. You could leave him down here and let Venereum devour him. You could take his body out to the Forbidden Forest and let people think he was ripped apart by one of the creatures in there..."
Harry grinned maniacally as an idea popped into his mind.
"Yess. That would work ssplendidly." Voldemort replied in parseltongue, after seeing the plan formulate in Harry's mind.
This was going to be fun.
The next day, Harry made a trip to the owlery. He chose an owl, at random, and told it to deliver the package (that he had hidden in one of the pigeon holes) to Albus Dumbledore at 6:00pm the following day – so everyone would be in the Great Hall having dinner.
This was going to be hilarious, well for Harry anyway...
Everyone was gathered for dinner. All the children were eating and chatting away merrily – not knowing what was about to occur.
Harry had to stop himself from smirking several times in anticipation. No one seemed to notice his struggle – thankfully.
Just then, a fluttering of wings could be heard.
Everyone's heads simultaneously swivelled round to identify the source of the sound.
What is an owl doing in here at this time? Dumbledore thought, as he placed his fork back on the table to watch and see who the package was for.
The owl swooped low and dropped the package before Dumbledore on the teacher's table.
What could it be? My, it is a very large package – it's the size of my head! Dumbledore thought as he checked over the package for any curses or spells that could harm him if he opened it.
"So, he is smart..." Harry exclaimed to Voldemort who chuckled in response.
When Dumbledore couldn't find anything wrong or dangerous about the package, he lifted the lid off and peered in.
What he saw horrified him.
The box's walls collapsed, leaving the contents of the package for everyone to see.
That's when the screaming started.
Oblivious to this, Dumbledore shakily lifted the crisp, black envelope from the bottom of the box, and tore off the seal. He was about to reach in and grab the parchment from within when a deep, dark and disturbing voice bellowed through the hall.
It was a howler.
Hahahahahaha.
I do hope you like your little 'present' Dumbledore.
Take this as a warning children.
The Dark Lord will return, and when he does, the light will suffer.
Your precious saviour stands no chance against the forces of the Dark Lord.
You will all fall if you do not join him.
Hogwarts can protect you from us now, but not for much longer.
This blood traitor is an example to you all.
Join the Dark Lord or die.
Decide your fate.
The hall was silent.
"Prefects, lead your houses to the dormitories."
Shocked out of their stupor, the children began to move, and before long only Dumbledore and the rest of the professor's remained.
"Who has done this, Albus? How did they get into the school?" Professor Mcgonagall questioned, worry and fear evident in her eyes.
"I don't know Minerva..." Dumbledore trailed off helplessly, before regaining his resolve, "But I will find out."
Back in the dormitories, the Slytherin boys (apart from Harry) seemed to be bouncing in excitement.
"Who do you think did it?"
"Do you think the Dark Lord is really going to return?"
"Do you think it was a Death Eater?"
"Do you think father knows?"
"Do you..."
"Will you please be quiet! You sound like a group of gossiping girls." Harry shouted over the noise.
"But, Harry this is serious! I mean, Weasley's head was just delivered to Dumbledore and you're not in the least bit curious?" Draco questioned Harry, who gave him a disdainful look.
"Of course I am curious. It does not mean I have to act like a Gryffindor though."
Draco looked very offended at Harry inferring he was acting like a Gryffindor. He was about to tell him his father would hear about this, but his father would probably take Harry's side, so he settled on shutting up, and sulking on his bed.
Harry went back to reading.
It took a while for the castle to settle that night.
After 12:00am, everything fell silent.
That's when Harry struck.
Harry knew, from Voldemort, that Ron's father worked at the Ministry, in some muggle loving department, and that shifts at the Ministry end at around 11:30pm.
This meant that Mr Wealsey would have just settled down for a cup of tea, before going to bed.
It was perfect.
Dumbledore, being the loving, senile man that he is, would tell Ron's parents in person of what had happened, and he would break the news as soon as possible.
Meaning, Dumbledore was not in Hogwarts.
Harry arrived at the third floor quickly and easily.
The prefects were quite abysmal at their duties – probably in a cupboard or empty classroom groping, being the hormonal teenagers they are.
Harry travelled the length of the dimly lit corridor silently, scanning his surroundings for any possible threat, and Filch.
At the very end of the corridor, was a door which seemed to be locked from what Harry could tell.
Honestly. Do the professors think we cannot perform a simple alohomora? I find it rather insulting.
Harry unlocked the door with ease, and entered the room. He was met with one of the most amazing sights he had ever seen.
"A Cerberus..." Harry exclaimed in wonder, examining the three headed dog before him.
He had read about them in a book on Greek Mythology once when he was back in the orphanage.
Harry could hear a harp playing a relaxing tune, and realised this put the Cerberus to sleep.
He scanned the room, trying to identify where the stone was, when his eyes fell upon the floor where he could just make out a trap door next to one of the Cerberus' paws.
Harry quickly, but quietly made his way over to it and lifted it slowly.
Once it was fully opened, he climbed in.
Harry felt something twist around his ankle and his arms.
In the dim light, Harry could see that whatever was holding him was plant like.
Remaining still and calm, Harry slowly reached for his wand.
When he had retrieved it from his robe pocket, he shouted: "Incendio!"
The plant – which Harry had deduced was Devil's Snare – retreated and Harry found himself being lowered into a corridor, with a singular door at its end.
Inside, were thousands of keys that had wings which were flitting about. There was a broomstick on a podium near the door.
Harry hated quiddich. He found it pointless.
Why fly about on a broom when you could learn to fly without one? Harry had asked himself when he was forced to see a quiddich match with Draco; who adored the sport.
So, Harry had learnt to fly without one, through books and Voldemort – who shared his views on the sport and had also learnt how to fly without a broom.
Harry lifted himself off the air and surveyed the keys that surrounded him.
They all look the same... I am presuming this task is something like the muggle game: Spot the Difference.
Harry's eyes drifted towards a key that had only one wing. He grabbed it and lowered himself to the ground. Harry inserted it into the keyhole and twisted.
Just like he knew it would; the door opened.
This room seemed to be laid out as a gigantic, wizard's chess set.
Was he supposed to play?
The door he needed to pass was guarded by the pawns, who barricaded his passage through by crossing spears.
Harry pulled out his wand again, and pointed it at the pawn in front of him.
"Reducto!"
The pawn that was once blocking his passage was now turned to ash at his feet. Harry smirked in triumph before pressing onwards.
The room Harry entered next had a single, wooden table in its centre with seven bottles filled with what Harry assumed was a potion of sorts, and a scroll of parchment.
Harry stepped over to the parchment, unrolled it and read:
Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here forever more,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.
Harry pondered the clues on the parchment, before coming to a conclusion.
It was rather simple.
Harry lifted the third potion from the right, lifted the cork off and drunk it.
A moment of passed with nothing happening when suddenly black flames danced in front of his eyes.
Harry seemed to glide through the flames and he found himself in a vast chamber, lit with many candles hanging from the walls.
Harry's eyes landed on a large mirror that was in the centre of the room, and before the mirror, was that...
"Professor Quirrell?" Harry questioned, which startled the man into turning round.
"P..Potter, w..what are you d...doing here?"
"I am here to get the stone. I have been informed to give it to you. I am sure you know who by."
"Y..yes." Quirrell looked at the boy curiously. His eyes suddenly widened in fear for a reason Harry didn't know. "You m...must give me t..the stone soon. D...dumbledore is r...returning shortly."
Harry nodded in affirmation and went to stand by the older man's side, so he could see into the mirror.
What he saw startled him somewhat.
Harry looked older – around 16 years old in the mirror. His hair was slightly shorter than it was now, and it was entirely straight. His eyes were glowing emeralds, that stood out from his snow white complexion. His 'reflection' was wearing what appeared to be leather pants, a crimson button up shirt and a black, silk robe. He was wearing a ring which he was stroking whilst staring, adoringly up at...Voldemort!
The image suddenly blackened and his and Quirrell's reflections could be seen in the mirror.
His reflection smirked at him before revealing a red stone – the Philosopher's Stone – from behind him, and slipped it in his pocket.
Harry felt a sharp object cut into his thigh. He reached into his pocket, and found the Philosopher's Stone, then handed it to Quirrell who was staring at Harry in shock.
"T...thankyou. He will be p...pleased."
Harry smiled at the man, hoping that Voldemort would be, before departing and making his way through the castle and back to his dormitory.
Once there, he climbed into bed and waited in anticipation for this meeting with Voldemort...
Harry expected to arrive in the study he had come to know.
He didn't.
Harry was instead in a vast library – larger than the Hogwarts library.
The floor was a glossy wood, and the walls were made of a smooth looking, grey stone.
In the centre of the circular library was a green and silver chaise longue, and sat on it was Voldemort who was smirking up at Harry and patting the space next to him for Harry to sit in.
The boy complied and before he had even sat down, Voldemort grabbed his hand and kissed it.
"My little horcrux, what an amazing performance from you. I am most impressed."
Harry blushed and looked down to the ground trying to hide his reddening cheeks from the older man.
Voldemort sighed. His face looking regretful.
"I will not be able to communicate with you for a while, Harry. I will return, but I must contact my death eaters, but before that I need to recover. It will pain me to not speak to you, but it is what I must do to return fully."
Harry nodded, willing away the tears that threatened to fall at the prospect of being without the man he had come to...enjoy the company of.
"I understand. Just, do not forget about me, will you?" Harry looked up at the Dark Lord who smiled down at him.
"I could never forget you my little horcrux."
Voldemort ruffled the boy's hair, and leant forward and kissed his cheek.
"I will not forget you."
The rest of the term passed by smoothly.
Draco agreed that he would ask his father if Harry could stay at the manor for the majority of the summer.
Harry would have to return to the orphanage if not, and Draco thought the very idea of Harry spending summer with those muggles was disgusting.
Harry boarded the train back to Hogwarts with Draco, and only one thought was on his mind.
When will I see Voldemort again?