Harry's glee at claiming the stone dissipated with the sudden sound of shattering glass. Automatically, he raised his hands in protection against flying shards, but the only one to be injured was Quirrell who seemed not to notice as he dropped to his knees amidst the sharp glass fragments. Harry winced as he saw a shard pierce the man's leg where he knelt, but the man seemed unaware of it. His second face bore a sinister smile as his servant shuffled through the broken glass, cutting himself in the process. The child knew that the man was searching for what he now possessed and realised that perhaps it was not a good idea to be near when the man figured out that the stone was not covered by the rubble glass.

He hedged away, nibbling his lip as the professor cursed loudly when the stone failed to materialise beneath his fingers. Oh oh, he thought, well aware that the man's attention would turn to him. A quick glance showed him that Draco was completely unaware of his predicament...not that he wanted the veela's aid anyway. He could protect himself...and he would show that to Draco and make him eat his earlier words!

The stone pulsed in his pocket, as if in agreement with his thoughts and he let his hand discretely move into his clothing, curling his fingers around the object. He rubbed his fingers gently across the etching he had seen earlier and the stone responded to it, a tingling sensation working its way through Harry's body. The feeling overwhelmed him for several seconds and he could not help but gasp as the sensation increased incrementally before fading...leaving him fully healed. Even his scar had returned to its previous painless state.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. If the stone could do that, he could understand why the evil duo wanted it. And with that understanding, came the realisation that he could not allow the stone to fall into their hands. He knew that Voldemort would try to heal himself with it and he could not let that happen. The stone throbbed again in agreement and hot sparks shot from Harry's fingertips as he squared his jaw, evenly meeting Voldemort's gaze when it turned to him.

The red eyes skimmed Harry's rigid form and red the determination in his eyes. What would have the boy so suddenly confident unless...the dark lord's eyes narrowed into mere slits as he hissed to the still cursing Quirrell. "The boy! Forget the glass, Potter has the stone!" The air seemed to cool several degrees at his pronouncement, but with the stone throbbing in his pocket, Harry felt no fear. The stone was his; he would not let the dark lord get his hands on it. Thus, he stood firm, even as Quirrell turned and pointed his wand at him with bleeding hands.

"The stone Potter," he ordered in a tone that had had Harry cringing numerous times during the school term. "Hand it over now."

Harry met his eyes defiantly, his voice sure as he replied. "No. It's mine."

Quirrell growled at the boy's words. "Finally grown a backbone Potter? Fine, we will do it the hard way. Perhaps I will enjoy beating you more now that you will actually fight back," he sneered.

"What?" Harry thought as the man leered at him. He had never fought the man before and somehow Quirrell's tone implied that he was not talking about their earlier altercation. Something about the man's look tugged at his memory, but Harry dispelled the notion, reacting quickly when the man sent a spell he had used earlier on him.

With nothing to distract him this time, Harry was actually able to defend himself, dodging the spell and rolling away. Coming out of the defensive position, Harry hurriedly cast a barrier around him, saving him from a strong curse. He straightened his position and smirked slightly at the teacher.

"Impudent brat!" Quirrell snarled, shooting a hex towards him. Harry stood his ground, completely ignoring a shout from across the room, eyeing the incoming curse carefully. When it was within reach he held his palm up and to the caster's shock, the hex froze inches from Harry. With a slight smirk, Harry waved his index and middle finger and the hex rebounded, hitting Quirrell square in the chest. The man stumbled backwards, clawing at his chest for some moments.

"Avis!" Harry intoned, pressing home his advantage. A flock of birds materialised before him, their wings fluttering. "Oppungo!" he finished, merging the two spells into one. The birds shrieked in rage and flew forward as a unit, pecking at Quirrell's form. The man cursed at the assault and waved angrily at the birds before a rebuke from his master reminded him that he was a wizard. With a swift curse, the man starting cutting threw the birds which landed in bloody heaps around him.

Harry cringed at the sight of the fallen birds and ended the spell quickly. He sent a silent apology to the birds as they vanished, sorry for the sacrifices that some of them had made for him. But they had been effective and it was a considerable more haggard Quirrell who faced him now breathing deeply. It was his ragged breaths that finally triggered the memory for Harry and the events from months ago flooded back to him in a rush.

It was Quirrell who had attacked him...had bewitched the broom to lead him to the corridor. He had been the one to render Cho unconscious so quickly that Harry was not aware of what he had done until the girl had slumped down to the floor. He recalled the pure terror he had felt at that moment as the man descended upon him, his breathing filling Harry's ear as he gripped him around his throat. He had been too frightened to do more than launch a token attack, his fingers trying to hex him. The result however was little more painful than an ant's bite and Quirrell had laughed it off as he flung Harry into the classroom before entering and sealing the door.

A shiver ran down Harry's spine as he remembered the piercing feeling as he had been cut repeatedly, whimpering the entire time as he tried to struggle against the body bind he had been placed under. He had lost consciousness when Quirrell had produced a gleaming knife and pressed it against the base of his braid before slicing it off. It was the shock of its loss that had sent Harry under and as his body relaxed, Quirrell had cast the memory charm on him.

It was he who had interrupted an otherwise happy existence for Harry at Hogwarts. He who had sent Draco into such a protective fit that Harry had at times felt suffocated. That man who was sneering down at him had unknowingly been a bane in Harry's side for too long and now the boy wanted him gone. Harry's blood boiled as all the memories of the times he had been scared of this man rose and he found himself wanting revenge against the one who had brought chaos into Hogwarts and into his life. Moreover, the man had become a host for the one who had plagued the wizarding world and had killed Harry's parents.

No, Harry felt no fear now as he looked at the man, only feeling anger towards the man before him. The boy allowed the feeling to fill him, to build up within his system. Unseen to him, Voldemort's eyes widened as he felt an overwhelming rage within him, one that was not his own. Suddenly a sense of dread filled the dark lord that he forced aside. He was Lord Voldemort, he was not afraid of anything, not even the source of that emotion. Harry's emotions spilled over when Quirrell sent an unforgivable his way and without so much as a fidget, Harry returned it to him, watching him with grim amusement as he fell to his knees.

"Get up!" Voldemort shrieked and the man struggled to obey, another curse on his lips when his master spoke again. "This is useless. Summon the stone to you and end this!"

"Y-yes master," Quirrell replied. "ACCIO SORCERER'S STONE!" he shouted.

He had the element of surprise on his side as Potter had expected another offensive spell. Thus the child was stunned when the stone ripped itself from his clothing and sailed towards the dark lord's servant. It was almost in his grasp when the child's voice rang out.

"Accio!"

"NO!" he hollered as the stone was jerked the other way and he was forced to repeat his spell for it not to end up in Potter's hands once again.

Harry growled as the stone remained in mid-air between the two of them. He would not relinquish his grasp on it. The stone was his. Quirrell's thoughts were similar as he reinforced his spell, trying to lure the stone towards him. But it never moved more than a few inches before Potter responded. His teeth gnashed against each other as he poured more and more magic into the spell. He was successful and slowly but surely Potter lost ground and the stone started to edge towards him.

Harry felt a brief moment of panic when he found himself losing control of the stone and he struggled to maintain some hold of it. Sweat beaded down his face as the magical tug-of-war progressed and he found himself channelling more power into his hands, while his mind screamed for the stone to return to him. For several moments, it heeded his call, moving towards him. However, he was quickly growing weary and thus was never able to keep his advantage for a prolonged period of time.

Soon Harry found that it was only his willpower that was preventing him from caving in and relinquishing control of the stone. He was much more proficient at small bursts of magic. This prolonged process was sapping away at his power and unlike Quirrell, he had no second source to draw from. Voldemort was now repeating the spell alongside Quirrell and Harry felt himself releasing control. He wanted the stone, knew he could not let it fall into Voldemort's hands, but he was tired. The stone was now only a few feet away from the dark professor and he found himself slowly accepting the fact that he did not have the necessary strength to even try to draw the stone towards himself one more time.

Finally, Harry surrounded, physically, emotionally and magically drained. His hands dropped and the stone made to sail the small remaining distance into Quirrell's grasp. "I'm sorry," Harry murmured, swaying on his feet. The stone was mere inches from Quirrell's hand when a multitude of spells united before hitting the stone. Both the dark lord and his servant screamed as the stone absorbed the spells, before cracking. A huge gash ran down the stone and a cracking noise was heard as it rose to a height before the stone broke into two, both halves flying to each of the persons involved in the tug of war.

Harry dropped to the knees, wearily eyeing the fragment in the palm of his hand. His fingers closed loosely about it as it started to throb. Seconds later a brilliant red light poured forth from the stone, bathing him in it. A few feet away, the same thing happened to the two-faced man.


Draco hated what circumstances made him do, but there was no way he could protect his little lion as is. He needed the help of the adults and he had to admit that he would not be able to concentrate if Harry clung to him while he was trying to heal someone. His instincts would drive him to forsake everyone else for Harry and that would be detrimental for them all. Thus, he was forced to temper his desires and adopt a brusque tone with the boy, successfully dissuading him from the notion of following him to the unconscious adults.

The veela's memory of the past few days were foggy at best, but what he remembered from his brief periods of lucidity was a plan so ludicrous that the wizarding world would be brought to its knees should it succeed. Hence, he needed to put aside his desires towards his mate and focus on the task at hand, which in this case was to awaken the headmaster. Although it seemed strange for him not to start with his parents, Draco knew that the headmaster would be more valuable in the current situation as he had the most experience with dealing with the dark lord. As such he was kneeling besides him, tapping him with his wand as he repeated the healing curse like a litany. It was the strongest one he was capable of casting but it was slow working. Thankfully though, the headmaster responded and eventually opened his eyes with a pained groan. It took several moments for Albus to reorient himself but once he did, he quickly rose to his feet, ignoring the soreness in his body.

"Good work my boy," Albus praised, quickly taking stock of the situation. "Rouse your parents." As the boy crept off, Albus saw that Harry's attention was riveted to the mirror. The mirror itself was slowly reaching its limit and Albus knew that he had to get the other wizards awake and prepared in the eventuality that Voldemort actually managed to get the stone. He had set a test to prevent such an occurrence but being privy to its workings, Quirrell had somehow found a way around it. He shot his grandson a significant look as he started healing his potions master, wondering just who would gain the stone from the mirror.

Draco had reached the stage with his mother that her fingers were starting to twitch when he heard the sound of glass shattering. Spinning around he saw the professor clawing his way through the glass. He immediately shot a worried look towards Harry and felt his heart sinking at what he saw. Harry was nibbling on his lower lip in a way that he only did when he was hiding something. And Draco could only think of one thing in the room that could garner such a response from his mate.

Obviously, his little lion had disobeyed him. More frantic now, he started to tap his wand against his mother with more fury until her eyes flew open. She jumped to her feet and began shaking her husband awake. Leaving her to it, Draco turned back to his mate, only to scream when he saw the spell hurtling towards Harry. He was stunned with the fluidity with which Harry moved and the power behind his spell. There was a look of determination and courage on his face and Draco found himself reminded of the fact that his mate was indeed a Gryffindor.

He was drawn away from the battle by a hand on his shoulder. Looking up he found his Uncle Sirius gazing at him with a glint in his black eyes, before drawing his attention to the headmaster who was speaking.

"...the stone must be destroyed."

"But Albus..."

"Nicholas will understand. Harry cannot last much longer. Nicholas would never forgive himself if his creation was used to resurrect the dark lord."

"Do you know how?"

"Yes, the spell is..."

Among themselves, the group silently intoned the spell, perfecting it. They would only have one opportunity to cast it and they had to get it right, for all of their sakes. The opportunity came to use the spell when Harry relinquished his grasp on the stone. Draco had to restrain himself from running across the room to hold his wavering form, instead, raising his wand alongside his family and casting the spell. All the spells intertwined as they raced across the room, hitting the stone dead on. The veela quickly pointed his wand towards Harry, a protection spell on his lips should the stone's destruction create an explosion of sorts. But the spell was unnecessary as in an anticlimactic way, the stone simply broke apart into two fragments, one going to Harry and the other to the dark lord.

Their collective sighs of relief ended abruptly when the fragments came to life. A restraining hand had to be placed across Draco as he made to run to his little lion when he was engulfed in the stone's glow.

"Father let me go!" he ordered, struggling madly. "Harry!"

"Calm Draco..." his father urged, even as the headmaster moved to reassure him further.

"The stone is not evil, it will not harm him."

"Then what is it doing?"

"That I am afraid I don't know the answer to."

Draco growled at the man in displeasure, renewing his struggles until his mother was forced to take him and wrap her arms around him. Her soul sang soothingly to him and though he resisted at first, Draco eventually slumped against her, accepting the comfort.

Moments later, the light began fading from the pair and all eyes focussed on them once more. What happened next could not have been anticipated by anyone in the room.


Harry did not know what to expect when he found himself enveloped in the stone's light. Hence, he was astounded when he heard a ringing melody that after a few seconds proved to be a voice. "Hello?" he whispered cautiously. "I'm Harry, who are you?"

"Hello young Harry. I am the heart of the stone. You have proved yourself to be worthy of my powers."

"Really?" he questioned.

"Yes. That is why I chose you. I will lend to you my powers young one."

The voice's tone was coaxing, almost as if it was trying to cajole Harry into accepting its strengths. Had the voice been honest and straightforward he might have agreed, but caution had him shaking his head. Besides, he had no need for power.

He told the stone as much and was surprised when instead of sounding offended, the stone's voice chuckled. "Your answer proves that you are indeed the one young child. I will bestow my power unto you."

"I don't want it," Harry reiterated. "I have no use of your power. Can't you pass it along to someone else?" he asked. He was sure there was others, perhaps a squib, who would be grateful for more strength.

"My child, you do not know the power I possess. I can grant you immortality, self-healing..."

"I can heal myself...just not very well. And I don't want to live forever."

The voice was silent for a few moments. "Very well young one. You present a good case. But I am bound to pass on my power to one worthy. What shall I do with it?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Can you split it between people?"

The voice's tone sounded intrigued when it spoke next. "And send it to whom?"

"All of my family."

The voice made a humming noise before deciding. "They will not have immortality with my power thus diffused, but they will live a prolonged life." The voice paused. "All of you family?"

"All."

"Very well. Some will be granted the power they need, others will lose that which they never desired."

Harry blinked at the odd statement. "Whom are you referring to?"

"It matters not my child...you said all of your family and all it shall be. As for you..."

"I told you – "

"Only a portion of my power I have given to them. The rest will remain with you, dormant until the day you are in need of its strength and trust me, such a day will come when you will need all the power that you can receive."

The ominous tone chilled Harry and he sent a thought of dread for the future that lay ahead.

"Do not worry child. Live each day at a time. You will have many years of calm before the storm. Relish it while you are able to."

"I will," he promised.

"Very well. I will release you now."

To those in the room it seemed as if the light simply vanished from around Harry. In reality, it siphoned towards them, altering them in ways they were unaware of. Some were given back the strength they had lost with time, others were boosted and still one had his genetics unknowingly altered. The last bit that Harry himself did not absorb shot upwards, transcending the planes to hit a married pair who had been overlooking the scene with great anxiety.

Lily shook herself as she assimilated her new power. For the first time since the blood wards had been drawn, she was back to full strength. She stifled a gasp of pleasure when she felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her. Looking up she found a fully restored James grinning at her before claiming her lips in a kiss.

The stone had not brought them back to life for not even death could be transcended. But now, with their full energy restored and with the remainder of the stone's magic left in the mortal plane, they could traverse between the planes with ease and remain for indefinite time period.

A short distance away Destiny smiled at them, watching as one path dissipated leaving only one to be followed. Looking to the future, it saw that it would be a long time before Harry Potter and consequently the wizarding world's future diverted into numerous possibilities, requiring assistance to navigate the right one.

"Do not forget your mission," the angel bid the pair, before vanishing, not to return until that time came.

The pair nodded in understanding, still wrapped in each other's eyes. "It's almost over," Lily whispered string back down into the mortal plane. "Shall we go to them?"

"Not yet. Let us give them some time, when they start asking the questions that have no answers we will go."

"Okay James," she agreed, laying her head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. James buried his face in her hair and they remained in that position for a long time, relishing their ability to hold each other once again.


Like with Harry, a voice emerged from the sea of red to speak with the two-faced man. However, it took a different tone in its entirety.

"Show yourself!" Voldemort snarled, as his minion tried to brandish his wand against the unseen force.

"I am the heart of the stone. Who are you?"

"I am the dark lord and if you are who you say you are, surrender your power to me at once!"

The voice was contemplative as it responded. "You seem to be worthy of my power but I must be sure. What do you want my power for?"

"I don't owe you any explanation." He gripped.

"You will give it me one if you wish for my strength."

"Heed my master." Quirrell echoed.

"Threats have little effect on me," the voice scolded.

Voldemort spat out an oath before complying. He would find a way to punish the voice later. "The power will bring me back to my former glory. I will have my revenge."

The voice was silent for a moment and when it came again, there was an edge to its tone.

"You indeed deserve my powers. But I must warn you, it comes in many forms. Are you certain you want it?"

"Yes...give it to me!" he ordered, excitement lacing his words. Finally he would have his body and with it the power to reclaim his control over the wizarding community.

"Very well. You may have it."

The dark lord's gratified laughter tapered of into pained screams as he felt the stone's power infuse itself into Quirrell. Instead of healing his servant and bolstering him so that he could oust Quirrell's soul from his own body, Voldemort felt himself being pushed, shoved by the very essence of life. The grey face scrounged in agony as Voldemort fought to keep himself grounded in his servant with little avail. In the midst of his struggle, Quirrell dropped to his knees, clutching his head in pain. It was that scene that greeted the other occupants of the room as the Stone's glow faded.

The fragment in Harry's hand disintegrated into dust once the light completely receded and he shook his hand absently to rid himself of it. He felt invigorated. The light still surrounded Quirrell but deep within his being, he felt a tingle of something new, telling him that it was alright. The newness vanished almost immediately and Harry was left wondering if he had imagined it. It was a feeling that he would not experience again for a very long time.

His eyes drifted around the room and a happy smile graced his face as he saw his family, completely healed. His happiness tempered a little when he saw Draco and he sighed. His thoughts did not progress far as he heard Voldemort's pained screams before the light vanished from around him. Harry eyes widened as he saw the back of Quirrell's head bulging outwards much like the mirror earlier and Voldemort's face twisted side to side as if he was trying to fight against whatever was driving him out. Voldemort was losing, the fading pain in his scar was a good indication of that fact. A voice very much like his mother whispered in his ears and he found himself drawing on his drained magic reserves once more, absently repeating the spell that floated into his mind.

Voldemort's screams increased tenfold as Harry's spell hit the dark lord and it was with a tearing sound that the face mutated, changing into loose hanging flesh on the back of Quirrell's head. The said man sunk forward in apparent unconsciousness. But Harry did not see this as his eyes were riveted to a spot above the man where a grisly transparent shape hovered with pure menace in his eyes.

If the dark lord could have managed it in his spirit form, he would have killed the child then and there. Somehow, he...a child had defeated him again! He knew it was Potter. He had manipulated the stone...had tricked him into defeat! But it was far from over. He would not have wreaked the terror that he did had he only one plan at a time. No, he would be back someday, Quirrell had already stowed away some ingredients for him. The man himself mattered not now. He sneered down at the child gazing at him.

"Voldemort," Harry acknowledged in a tone that rankled on the being's nerves.

It screamed in rage, "I will have my revenge POTTER!" before striving forward. Before anyone could begin to consider an action, Voldemort passed straight through Harry, filling the boy with every ounce of the hatred he felt for him. Harry, unused to such a feeling, fell to his knees in pain, the negative emotions wreaking havoc on him until he collapsed. He never noticed his scar rupturing as he sank into blissful oblivion.


"Harry!" Draco screamed, finally breaking free of his mother's grasp. He ran to his fallen mate's side, pulling his limp body into his arms. His father was right behind him, running his wand along the boy's figure in a scan. The others adults directed their attention to Quirrell. Draco clawed at his father when he tried to take Harry into his more study grasp. A sharp rebuke from his father startled him out of his veela mode and he offered his father a sheepish look before relinquishing his hold.

"I can find no physical injury save the scar," Lucius stated, rising to his feet. "But Poppy is much better at this than me. Come along Draco."

Draco nodded, following his father out of the chamber, with nary a glance to anyone else. Harry was his entire focus now.

Severus nodded approvingly as the two Malfoys left with Harry. He hoped that the dark lord had done no serious damage to the boy. It was a miracle in itself that the boy was alive, Severus noted before turning his attention to the moaning man on the ground. It took him a few seconds to realise that even in his dismal state, with the back of his skull resembling grey mash potatoes, that Quirrell was trying to curse them. Sirius snorted and kicked the wand out of the man's grasp, going "Oops," when he 'accidentally' kicked the man in the process.

Remus bent and pocketed the wand alongside Harry's before questioning the headmaster.

"What are we going to do with him?"

"He won't survive more than a few days, even with treatment. Voldemort has wreaked havoc with his body."

"M-my m-master will be avenged," Quirrell sputtered, struggling to turn over.

"Oh shut up," Sirius growled, resisting the urge to kick the man again.

"Shall we keep him for questioning?" Severus inquired, looking at the man coldly.

"I say we kill him," Narcissa stated in a singsong voice. The men winced at the deceptively sweet tone. "We can always summon his sorry soul back to question him."

"If he has one," Remus muttered.

"I won't reveal..." he gasped out. His body was still racked with pain from his master's struggles to remain with him and he knew that some part of him had left with his master. The light wizards were right, he did not have long to live. But he would die happily with the knowledge that his master was not truly gone. He would be back and then he would crush the lives of the wizards sneering down at him.

"Look Albus, do with him as you please. Right now I want my boys," Narcissa declared.

"We all do," Sirius agreed. "Can't we just leave him down here for now?"

"Alone?"

"Well...we did heal Dobby right? Couldn't he..."

"An excellent point Sirius. Narcissa if you please?"

"Very well...Dobby!" The Malfoy matron called. The elf popped in front of her.

"Mistress be calling?"

She eyed the elf critically. Having given the elf permission to heal itself earlier, she was pleased with his overall condition. "Can you guard Quirrell here?" she asked.

Dobby frowned, twisting his fingers together. "Mistress be wanting Dobby to carve squirrel? Dobby knives be broken."

Narcissa blinked, making a mental reminder to get the elf schooled in grammar especially since he pronounced "guard" as "carve". "Yes Dobby, I want you to guard Quirrell." She looked around before quickly transfiguring two rocks into a pair of knives to replace the broken ones from earlier. She knew how much elves were fond of their trinkets and Dobby deserved to have his knives replaced. "Here you are."

"Mistress be so kind to Dobby! Dobby be doing a good job carving Squirrel." The elf promised eagerly.

"Thank you Dobby," she smiled, not noticing the weird looks the men were giving her.

"Well then," she stated, eyeing the males. "Come along."

She led the way out of the chamber with the men right behind. Sirius leaned closer to Remus as they walked, asking "Am I going barney or did that elf not say that it was going to carve a squirrel?"

Remus whispered back. "I certainly believe so...but I am not questioning Narcissa until she is back to normal."

"I don't even think she noticed," Severus interjected, having overheard their conversation. "Albus?"

The headmaster walked with his head resolutely forward. "I heard nothing. I know nothing."

Shrugging, the men decided to follow in his lead.


Dobby's eyes gleamed as his mistress and her family vacated the room. Mistress was so good to give him such nice, sharp, shiny knives. They shone in the light as Dobby advanced on the form of Quirrell. He scrapped the knives together, smirking at the sound. The dark professor managed to open his eyes, panic reflecting in them as he saw the weapons in the elves hands.

"No..."

"You be big, but Dobby be carving some squirrel tonight!"