'After the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, things have calmed down considerably,' Harry mused while sitting in the library working on his Potions essay, thinking back on the last few weeks.

The Slytherins celebrated their victory well into the early morning, with quite a few of the older Slytherins getting a bit too excited with the Firewhisky. Many required potions to counter their massive hangover. The first years had been deeply amused by the spectacle. It wasn't every day they got to see the heirs of old and proud pureblood lines reduced to whining teenagers. Severus seemed to be equally amused, although the Potions Master was hard to read if you did not know him well. Nevertheless, after a short speech about being more cautious when consuming alcohol, their Head of House had handed out the hangover potion.

The weeks after had been rather quiet. Classes had progressed at their usual snail's pace. Ronald Weasley was being his usual charming self. The twins were still watching him, trying yet failing on following him, and Quirrell continued to behave strangely.

Professor McGonagall was still trying to uncover his permanent Transfiguration method and was being her usual stubborn self. According to Severus, the stern witch still hadn't managed to transfigure his needle back into a matchstick. Despite that, she still insisted that Harry's method wasn't a permanent one, although she hadn't spoken to Harry himself and asked him about his method. So far, she had only spoken to Severus who gladly kept him up to date with her investigation. In class, Harry still refused to use the official incantations. Instead, Professor McGonagall was confronted with more permanently transfigured objects she couldn't explain. Overall, Professor McGonagall proved to be a source of continuous amusement.

As was the swamp. It had roughly made a dozen or more reappearances. Because of the random nature of the reappearances, at least thirty students, most of them Gryffindors, and Mrs. Norris had fallen into the muddy depths of the swamp. It had taken Filch almost an entire day to get all the mud off his favourite feline. Sadly, a certain badly dressed manipulator hadn't gotten his sparkling and awfully patterned robes muddy yet. But despite that, the swamp proved to be quite bothersome to the headmaster. The first few appearances, he had used Levitation Charms on himself to get out of his office since the swamp conveniently stretched the entire corridor the Headmaster's office was located at. After that, Tom and Harry had decided to improve their creation and had added Anti-Levitation Charms to their contraption. Leaving his office had become much more bothersome for the esteemed Headmaster after that and resulted in several missed meals. Filch now was on constant alert should the swamp make a sudden appearance since his small barge seemed to be the only way to pass the swamp.

So far, Dumbledore had failed to remove it, but not for lack of trying. He had spent countless hours on said seventh-floor corridor trying to locate the swamp's anchors. Without success. After its sixth reappearance, several Ministry Unspeakables had been called for assistance. Again, without success. After that, a handful of Gringotts' finest Curse Breakers had tried their best. Once again, without success. Having monitored their spell crafting with the help of his map, Harry knew that the wizards were very good. But he was better. After all, Tom had taught him well.

Harry's thoughts drifted to the two wizards who were currently monitored by his map. Apart from being busy with the swamp, Dumbledore seemed to be determined on putting the entire population of the castle under Compulsion Charms. The frequency in which the old coot used this particular piece of magic still baffled him. Sadly, Dumbledore hadn't entered the forbidden third-floor corridor on the right-hand side yet. But when he did, the map would immediately alert him. So far, only Hagrid and Professor Sprout had set foot there. In fact, both were frequenting the corridor, the great oaf to feed his three-headed pet and the Herbology professor to tend to her murderous plant. Usually on Fridays during dinner.

Besides the occasional patrolling professors, prefects and Filch, the only other wizard to frequent the corridor was Quirrell. The stuttering professor seemed to spend an awful lot of time in the corridor but so far hadn't managed to get past Fluffy. Certainly not for a lack of trying. But for whatever reason the man didn't seem to be aware of the beast's weaknesses. Which was odd, a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor like Quirrell was supposed to know his way around dangerous creatures. Creatures like the Cerberus on the third floor. It was quite peculiar.

Despite his fascination, some would say obsession, with the third-floor corridor and his surprising lack of knowledge, the man overall was behaving strangely. And rather suspiciously. Quirrell's stutter was obviously fake and very annoying. In class, Harry had to refrain from rolling his eyes whenever his name was called. This was especially tricky since the professor kept watching him. Both Draco and Neville had remarked that Quirrell seemed to be almost as obsessed with Harry as with the third-floor corridor. Besides that and a few visits to the Dark Forest, the professor seemed to be doing his best to keep under the radar.

Sighing, Harry turned back to his abandoned essay. Somewhere along his line of thoughts he had stopped writing. He had planned on confronting Quirrell but so far hadn't found the perfect moment to do so.

"The time will come," Tom broke the silence, his voice soft, "maybe it's time for another stroll in the moonlight, don't you think?"

"But is it a wise move?" Harry questioned the Dark Lord. "It wouldn't do to be discovered this early on."

"Harry, my dear," Tom purred, "we won't be discovered. Dumbledore and his idiotic pawns are no match for us, and neither is Quirrell. They won't see us coming. And besides uncovering the secrets of that turban wearing idiot, we could improve the swamp even more."

Chuckling under his breath, Harry turned back to his essay. Encouraged by Tom's words, he was sure that they would uncover Quirrell's secrets sooner than later. But for now, it was better to finish his homework. It was Friday evening and Severus had given them a lot of homework. Even Harry hadn't managed to complete his essay in class, not because brewing had taken much of his time but rather because of the required length of the essay. Luckily, he was almost finished. Looking out of the window, he noticed it was already dark outside. A quick Tempus later, Harry frowned at the time. Just past five. It was getting dark too early for his taste. But the end of the year was approaching fast. Only four weeks until Yule. After that, the days would finally start to get longer.

But before he could continue to finish his essay, he heard footsteps approaching. This essay seemed to be cursed. In the back, Tom laughed heartily. Thanking his companion for his helpful support, Harry watched as Granger stopped in front of his table, looking rather nervously.

"May I share this table with you?" The bushy haired witch asked far more politely than usual.

"Sure," Harry said, turning back to his homework. It wasn't the first time that the Gryffindor joined him in the library. It had turned into a rather common occurrence since the troll incident and their first talk about the Wizarding world. So far, she hadn't brought up the topic. Harry knew she was still busy researching.

"Potions?" Granger asked. Harry nodded silently, his quill scratching over the parchment the only sound. After a while, the Gryffindor sighed, "How far along are you?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry continued to write, "Almost done… In fact, I just finished."

Putting the quill down, he finally left the uncomfortable crouching position and stretched his arms and back, accompanied by the satisfying sound of several cracks. He then let his wand slip into his hand. Pointing his blackthorn wand at the essay, he silently cast a few spells on the parchment to magically dry the ink and make it impervious to any damage. Granger's eyes were glued on him, "I have no idea how you manage to finish your homework so quickly. Honestly, it's like magic."

Both Tom and Harry chuckled at her words.

"How can you possibly be done with the essay?" Granger threw her hands up in defeat, "Snape's been giving us a vicious week. Five feet? Isn't that a bit much?"

"We can't change it. He's the teacher and has every right to be angry. Just how thick is Weasley really?" Harry asked, a frown on his face, "he kept ignoring Professor Snape's orders thus endangering the entire class. Handling Fire Salamander blood is quite a delicate matter."

"I still don't get why he had to punish the entire class," Granger sighed.

"Are you in detention right now?" Harry questioned, "no. Weasley is. I'm not trying to defend my Head of House, because this really is a lot of homework, but maybe some of us will be more careful when handling delicate ingredients."

They stopped talking after that. Granger returned to her essay while Harry pulled out a book on the latest Muggle surveillance technologies that Tom was eager to read. He caught Granger scanning the title, but she remained quiet. The Gryffindor had stopped asking about his seemingly random selection of reading material, too baffled that he would read about nanobiology one day, then a book about Ward Weaving would be in his hands the next.

Twenty minutes of silence later, the witch finally cleared her throat, "I'm sorry to interrupt your reading, but can we… can we talk?"

After having marked the page with a wave of his hand, Harry closed the book much to the protest of Tom, "Alright, talk."

The Gryffindor squirmed under his watchful gaze and started to fidget, "I've finished your book… It has explained a lot but has also given me a lot to think about…"

Lifting a single eyebrow, Harry began to fish for information, "And what conclusion did you reach?"

Slightly taken aback by his direct approach, Granger took a moment to consider her next words, "I… I might have been a bit rash and prejudiced in my judgment of the Wizarding world…"

"A bit?" Harry said mockingly, "isn't that a slight understatement?"

Granger's face turned red as she lowered her eyes, "More than a bit… I shouldn't have acted the way I did… It was disrespectful… I know that the Purebloods aren't that open either, but now I understand why… It's because of people like me… What I did was rude, disrespectful and unjustified… I wish I wouldn't have said the things I did… Because of my actions, I will never be… never be accepted…"

By this point, tears were running down her face.

Sighing, Harry silently conjured a handkerchief, handing it to the sobbing witch, "Don't be too harsh with yourself…"

"But what I did," the Gryffindor protested, failing to wipe the tears off her face with the handkerchief since her hands were trembling too much, "was inexcusable. I… I… I shouldn't…"

Patting her shoulder, Harry spoke in a soft voice, "While your behaviour certainly wasn't the best, you can't blame yourself for your lack of information. You entered a new world, a world with foreign customs and traditions. I still have no idea why witches and wizards who did not grow up in the magical world – witches and wizards like us – are not provided with a sufficient amount of information before entering this world. Why was An Introduction to Magical History and Traditions removed from the booklist? Iola Black perfectly explains the basics about magical society in there. It's just weird. Especially since the book isn't available in the library. Or let me take this a step further: why is there a class on Muggle Studies when none is offered on the Magical society? It just doesn't make sense."

Granger finally looked up, a faint smile on her face, "It doesn't… I only wish they'd make more of an effort to introduce us to their society. Then again, I can't condemn them for being protective of their society after the way I behaved… This is far too complicated… I think I should return to less complicated matters for now and finish that potions essay. But I can't thank you enough for providing me with the book. At least you made the effort, Harry."

They returned to their respective task after that. An hour later, they parted without having spoken another word to each other. Granger leaving deep in thought.

The next Saturday, Harry finally managed to slip out of the common room unnoticed. It was finally time for the little stroll in the moonlight he had promised Tom. With the strong Disillusionment Charms he had cast on himself, it didn't take them long to reach the second-floor corridor the Defence classroom was located on. Checking the time with a quick Tempus, Harry pulled out his map one last time. In the light of the full moon, he quickly spotted the dot with the name Quirinus Quirrell. The dot was currently making its way down the third-floor corridor leading towards the stairs, indicating that the stuttering professor had reached the end of his patrol and was heading back to his quarters.

This didn't surprise Harry and Tom. The map kept recording Quirrell's comings and goings. On Saturday nights, the man was usually on patrol duty. Normally, he would check the forbidden third-floor corridor on the right-hand side before retiring to his quarters around midnight. Some people were just too predictable. Silently cancelling the map, Harry put the map back in his pocket and waited.

A few minutes later, a purple turban came into view. The way he was constantly looking over his shoulders clearly underlined the nervous and rather tense frown plastered onto his face. The heavy bags under his eyes only added to the picture. Luckily, Quirrell walked past him and stopped in front of the DADA classroom. The stuttering professor quietly unlocked the door and entered. Harry managed to slip inside unnoticed, as Quirrell had been distracted by righting his turban. Once the turban was back in place, Harry silently followed Quirrell up the stairs to his office and private quarters.

Only this time, Harry wasn't so lucky. Quirrell had unlocked and entered his personal quarters too quickly, and Harry had been too slow leaving him no other option but to draw his wand. With a quick flick of his unregistered alder wand the door that Quirrell had been about to close flew back. Quirrell's eyes filled with panic as he hectically reached for his wand. Harry smirked as he caught the professor's wand that he had wandlessly summoned the moment he had blasted the door open.

"Who are you?" Quirrell roared once he realized the absence of his wand, "show yourself!"

Ignoring Quirrell for now, Harry quickly entered the man's personal quarters. Another flick at the professor had him completely immobilised and glued to an old, sturdy looking wing-back chair. Gemstones were quickly placed around the room to prevent the castle from detecting any illegal Dark magic while strong privacy and proximity wards flared up. Only once the room had been secured did Harry cancel the Disillusionment Charms, "Good evening, professor. I hope you had a nice patrol."

With a wave of his hand, the Full-Body-Bind Curse lowered a bit to allow Quirrell to speak, "Potter, I should have known that it was you!"

"Really?" Harry chuckled while raising an eyebrow towards the professor, "you might have been a bit too obvious in class. Am I truly that interesting?"

"You will pay for this!" Quirrell spat, trying to fight against his magical binds.

"I highly doubt it," Harry continued to laugh, "but I couldn't help but notice the absence of your stutter, professor. Lost it in that room with the three-headed dog on the third floor?"

Quirrell's jaw dropped, "How do you know…"

"Doesn't matter," Harry swiftly interrupted the professor while flicking his wand leisurely at the man, wanting to get to the point, "what matters is why you are after the Philosopher's Stone. Now, tell me, Quirinus, and don't leave anything out!"

Quirrell glared at him darkly at the blatant disrespect before his features glazed over as a Compelling Curse took over. The curse would force him to answer. It was a lot stronger than a simple Compulsion Charm, because of that, it was classified Dark and thus banned. It would send the caster straight to Azkaban, not that Harry cared since he did not plan on getting caught. He would have preferred to use Veritaserum but had opted to not involve Severus. The Compelling Curse would achieve almost the same result. Although it was mostly used as a weaker version of the Imperius Curse to control people like marionettes. It could also be used to force people to reveal the truth if you put enough magic behind the curse.

"I'm here to steal the stone for my master," Quirrell started to ramble, "I want to join him. Serve him. Achieve great things at his side. To change the world forever. To rule forever. But then you came along, Potter. For a decade I have searched for him, then I finally found him in the forests of Albania. I've never felt more glorious in my life then when he told me to steal the stone for him. For my service, he has promised me immortality once his body is restored. I will make him proud once I manage to get past that blasted three-headed dog. Then I will present the Dark Lord with the Philosopher's Stone."

Harry's brows shot up. While this certainly was an interesting story, there was just one minor fault, "Tom, he's either your most avid fan and completely delusional, or somebody screwed with his mind. Or have you been roaming the forests of Albania lately without me noticing?"

"Funny," was Tom's short remark, "it certainly cannot have been me and neither of my Horcruxes with the exception of the diary, which is strong enough to influence a person like that. Since I doubt that Lucius managed to misplace that part of my soul, I sincerely doubt any part of me is involved. On the other hand, he has been in the presence of the Headmaster for a considerable length of time."

Harry's eyes swept over Quirrell who was oblivious to that short conversation. He frowned, "But he told the truth, Tom. The Curse would force him to tell nothing but the truth. He is either genuinely convinced that he really came across you in Albania or somebody made him believe that he met you."

"My money is on the latter," Tom swiftly replied, "just think about what Dumbledore did with Trelawney."

"So, your money is on the old fool again?" Harry chuckled.

"Of course, it is," Tom purred, "if I'm right, do I get to decide on the fate of my most devoted fan?"

"As long as you're not aggravating that fake stutter, you can do whatever you want," Harry sighed, "shall we uncover the truth?"

"And I thought you would never ask," Tom purred.

Flicking his wand, Harry first forced Quirrell to meet his eyes before immerging into his mindscape, fragments of memories flashed past him. Locating Quirrell's true motivation behind stealing the stone would be a lot more complicated than uncovering Trelawney's true prophecy. Fishing for a single memory was easy. But piecing together somebody's motives was something else entirely.

After some tense minutes of scanning random memories, they hadn't come across anything. Tom suggested to start at the beginning. Why had Quirrell gone to Albania and why was he interested in Voldemort? It took a while, but finally they came across memories of a younger Quirinus Quirrell. A child suffering from a severe case of Dragon Pox, his parents crying by his bedside. The child overhearing a healer telling the parents that all hope was gone. That they had tried everything, but the ailment was too advanced. That they should prepare for the worst. The parents talking about a mysterious Dark Lord who had supposedly managed to conquer death while young Quirrell was drifting in and out of feverish dreams, fearing for his life.

What followed were memories of a young Ravenclaw, who almost died in a potion's explosion and months spent in St Mungo's with his parents urging him to be more careful. After that, Quirrell seemed to have developed an even deeper fear of death and a strong longing to strive for immortality. The next memories showed a slightly older Quirrell collecting newspaper articles of the Dark Lord. From what Harry could piece together, Quirrell had intended to join the Death Eaters once he had graduated from Hogwarts, but the Dark Lord had mysteriously vanished before the end of Quirrell's seventh year.

What Harry and Tom observed next was nothing but strange.

Quirrell, who was the teacher for Muggle Studies, was patrolling the halls late at night when he overheard voices deep in the dungeons. Disillusioning himself, Quirrell was shown overhearing several Slytherin students talking about sightings of a dark spectre. According to one of the older girls, the daughter of a known Death Eater, it had been rumoured that the Dark Lord was residing in Albania. Quirrell then vanished without deducing points. The dark corridors of the dungeons then bled over to the clearing of a dark forest. Quirrell was kneeling in front of a dark, incorporeal shadow who was ordering the young man to steal the legendary Philosopher's Stone. Both Tom and Harry frowned at the memory.

Much like Trelawney's performance in the Hog's Head, the last two memories were obviously fake. But unlike Trelawney, Quirrell wasn't acting under the Imperius Curse. He had never been there. Although the memories were expertly crafted and Quirrell would never doubt them, there were small distortions and inconsistencies to the scenes of the dungeons and the Albanian forest. The noise in the castle and the way the trees moved in the back being the most obvious giveaways. But also, how time did not flow smoothly enough and the way the voices of those speaking were too clear. While these small faults would go unnoticed by most, a Master Legilimens like Tom would not be fooled. The question was, what had truly happened?

Much like with Trelawney, they found the answers buried deep in Quirrell's subconsciousness.

The true memories showed Quirrell overhearing a conversation between Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall, in which the Headmaster speculated that Voldemort was hiding deep in the ancient magical forests of Albania. But unlike the false memory, Quirrell had found himself in the company of an Albanian vampire prince who had intended to dine on the shaking Muggle Studies professor. In the end, Quirrell barely managed to escape, scared for his life. From what the two could tell, this life-threatening encounter only increased Quirrell's fear of death. Since the vampire had promised to find Quirrell, it also led to the brilliant decision of wearing a turban stuffed with garlic. What a shame, that it was for naught. Afterall, vampires loved nothing more than the smell of garlic.

But they found more. Although it was hidden even deeper, and patchy at times. Somebody had tried to hide the memory instead of Obliviating it.

The memory showed Quirrell entering the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore welcomed the man with the purple turban with a warm smile: "Quirinus, my boy. How nice that you are back. Although I didn't expect you to be back so early. How was Albania?"

While Quirrell began to spin the tale of the Albanian vampire prince, Tom noticed the Headmaster stiffening in his chair. Narrowing his incorporeal eyes, Tom observed Dumbledore secretly entering Quirrell's mind.

"Is everything alright, Headmaster?" Quirrell suddenly asked.

A faint twitch of the eye was the only indication that Dumbledore had been caught by surprise, "Quirinus, tell me, did you find Lord Voldemort in Albania?"

The man with the turban was about to jump when a Body-Binding Curse hit him. What followed could only be described as patchy. But Tom and Harry understood enough. Quirrell's mind was repeatedly entered and information was extracted, altered and rearranged. It all ended with Dumbledore telling a confused looking Quirrell, that it would be best to return to teaching for the next school year, although for the DADA position since he had gained so much practical experience in Albania. Dumbledore also told Quirrell that the Philosopher's Stone would soon be transferred to the London Gringotts branch and that the best day to steal it would be the 31st of July, the day of the annual check-up of the bank's wards. After that, a dizzy Quirrell was dismissed.

Having decided that he had seen enough, Harry pulled out of Quirrell's mind. Staring at the barely conscious man with the purple turban, Harry couldn't help but wonder, "Why would he not Obliviate the memories? I mean, that's what I would do. I wouldn't allow people like him or Trelawney running around with the truth buried inside their minds, no matter how deep the evidence is hidden."

Taking a moment to contemplate, Tom finally answered, "I think in Trelawney's case he didn't want to mess with her Inner Eye. But Quirrell puzzles me as much as it puzzles you. I think it has to do with his approach. It's much easier and smoother in the long term to work with real personality traits and motives. He mostly used Quirrell's fear of death and his hopes that I would be the one granting him the gift of immortality and manipulated him from there on."

"I think he has slightly overdone it," Harry chuckled, "the way he turned Quirrell in a Voldemort fanboy is a bit too much."

"I disagree," Tom purred, "that way he's much more motivated in finding the stone. Anyway, I'm not sure why Dumbledore didn't erase the memory of the meeting. It's careless. And unlike Trelawney, Obliviating just one memory while hiding others wouldn't damage Quirrell too much if you are familiar with the charm. Maybe Dumbledore isn't. Or he simply refrains from using it while thinking that burying the memories is enough. Who knows what's going on in his head?"

Harry's eyes hovered over the unconscious DADA professor, "What are we going to do with Quirrell? Should we undo the damage?"

"No, I don't think that's possible and it would only shed a bad light on us," Tom answered, deep in thought, "and the fool's been drinking unicorn blood ever since he returned to the castle. His life is doomed anyway."

"Tom, what if we simply let him continue to go after the stone?" Harry suggested in his most sugary voice.

Raising a non-corporeal eyebrow, Tom interjected, "And then?"

A Cheshire grin suddenly graced Harry's face, "I have plenty of ideas. But let's Obliviate him first and then improve that lovely swamp. I will tell you on the way."

"Of course you will, my dear," Tom purred, already giddy with excitement.