Harry whistled softly to himself as he walked towards the Great Hall, trying to decide his plans for the summer. It was three weeks until the train departed towards London and he still wasn't sure what to do when arriving. Susan wanted him to stay at the Bones Manor during the summer, knowing his dislike for his relatives and he was strongly considering that option.
He knew Aunt Petunia would be furious, but he found that he cared less about her opinion each day that passed with him away from the freakishly clean house. He knew he'd be receiving tutoring from Mistress Andromeda during the summer and no doubt Mistress Narcissa would want him over for the Lordship tutoring, leaving his schedule full with more important things than the pointless chores Aunt Petunia insisted he'd do.
The fact that he'd be able to keep up with his magical education during his time at the Bones' also heavily weighed in their favor, not to mention the lovely company of Susan and Amelia.
"Harry!"
He looked up in surprise as a flustered Hermione ran up to him, pulling him into an alcove in the wall. Squeezed up into the narrow space he couldn't resist wiggling his eyebrows before commenting,
"Well, you certainly seem to have something on your mind."
She flushed before punching him in the arm, not a gentle punch either, carrying all those books around sure as hell hadn't left her without arm strength.
"Prat. It's important."
He rubbed his shoulder before motioning for her to continue.
"Well, umm, you know about the restricted third floor corridor, right?"
"Yeah, saw a Cerberus in there and decided to leave it well alone, whatever Dumbledore has in there is obviously guarded."
She looked slightly startled at his knowledge before continuing,
"Well, you see, the boys in my year heard Professor Snape talking to Professor Quirrell about taking something from there, they said it sounded like he was threatening him."
Harry frowned at that, it sounded highly unlikely. Mistress Andromeda had told him about Snape's history as a Death Eater, yet she had also told him about how Dumbledore had shocked the entire Wizengamot by speaking in his defence during his trial.
Whereas no one had said it out loud, for someone so firmly in the light to speak in the favor of a man bearing the dark mark, meant that he had some significant inside information regarding his loyalties.
Thinking further he realized that Snape being the traitor would mean he was the one who let the troll in, making him doubt the story even more. There was one thing all of Wizarding Britain knew, and that was that Hogwarts was the safest place on the island. Not because of the wards or the teachers, but because of the presence of one Albus Dumbledore. Directly harming a student at Hogwarts meant being the focus of his anger, something not even the most foolish of dark wizards would willingly do.
Whereas some of the newer generations would happily underestimate the old man, the older witches and wizards still told stories about an enraged Albus Dumbledore walking through the streets of Berlin, radiating enough magic to make the muggles pass out while throwing around Grindelwald's Schutzstaffel division of dark wizards like a toddler discarding broken toys.
"I find that hard to believe."
"Right, it's not like a teacher would do such a thing!"
He frowned further at that, his gut refused to trust Quirrell at all, but decided not to comment.
"Umm, Hermione, why are you telling me this?"
"Because they are convinced Professor Snape intends to steal it today and have gone to the third floor corridor to stop him."
Harry palmed his face,
"Then they are idiots, why tell me instead of a teacher?" She shuffled her feet, fidgeting slightly before saying in a half whisper,
"Because Ron told me that if I tattled on them, they'd make me regret it."
Sighing he wrapped her in a gentle hug before holding her at arm's length,
"Hermione, go tell Dumbledore what happened, I'll go make sure the idiots don't kill themselves. If they try to blame you, tell them I said you should report it."
And I'll have a chat with them about threatening Hermione, he thought to himself before watching a now beaming Hermione run off towards the Headmasters office. Sighing again he jogged off towards the forbidden corridor, so much for a relaxing afternoon.
Reaching the door, he was surprised to find it unlocked, peeking inside he saw a charmed harp playing a soothing tune, keeping the now snoring Cerberus completely docile.
Looking carefully at the instrument he realized it was just a normal harp that someone obviously skilled had charmed, making him slightly worried. Whereas he had had his ego trounced by Tonks, on regular occasion, he still considered himself to be by far the best first year in Hogwarts. The charm on the harp was beyond him, leaving him certain someone else besides the first-year boys had passed through here.
Dropping down he fell into what looked like a small war zone, remains of what looked like a Devil's Snare plant spread around the room. Didn't they know all you needed was a little fire to make it retreat? Slightly worried now, Harry picked up the pace, moving through the various rooms quickly, briefly staring at the flying keys in one of them, before spotting Seamus and Dean, with Seamus lying on the floor. The room looked like a giant chess board, with the two of them next to it.
"Hey!"
Dean's eyes snapped to him in surprise,
"What are you doing here Potter?"
"A worried classmate of yours sent me to stop you from being idiots."
He frowned for a second before hissing,
"Granger, of course she'd tattle." He let out a small choking sound as a hand wrapped around his throat, lifting him up and making him stare into vivid green eyes,
"Yes, because she's a better person than both of us and worried about you. Should you have any problems with her actions you are free to take it up with me at any time."
Harry watched as bead of sweat ran down his pale face before he shook his head, making him release the boy.
"Is Finnigan alright?"
Rubbing his throat, he replied, gesturing at the pieces of rock strewn around the room,
"Uhh yeah, think so, he's breathing fine, just got knocked around the head you know?"
Harry nodded, not bothering to bring up the possible dangers of being 'knocked around the head' by pieces of rock. He barely knew enough medical spells to seal a small cut, nothing he could do if there was a serious internal wound.
"Where's Weasley?"
"Went on ahead to stop that scum Snape!"
Harry spared the boy a pitying glance, what exactly did they plan on doing if they actually encountered Snape down here? He knew how horribly outclassed he was against Tonks alone, Snape was a professor with a Death Eater background, he'd crush them like insects if they got in his way. Hell, he'd crush Harry as well; he no longer held any illusions in that regard.
Not bothering to reply he jogged through the door, spotting a Troll sprawled against one of the walls, making him nervous. There were no doubts about someone else being there now, Weasley would have had no chance against the troll, but whoever had beaten that troll made it look like it was a speed bump.
Edging around the troll he slipped through the next door, spotting Weasley hunched over a table of potions.
"Hey."
"Potter? What are you doing here?"
"Never mind that, what are you doing?"
"Uhh, solving this puzzle. I reckon if we just taste all of them, we'll get the right one and can stop Snape from taking the Philosopher's Stone!"
Harry's eyes widened in amazement at his comment about the legendary stone, before personally reading the riddle, glancing over the sentence; 'Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line' multiple times. The boy wanted to taste them all? This was a puzzle, based on logic, not magic, and it smelled like Snape, making him fairly certain the three 'killers' were in fact poison. Not bothering to reply he cast a Petrificus Totalus on Weasley, catching him and placing him on the floor.
"No offense, I just don't want you killing yourself while I figure this out."
He didn't feel particularly sorry; especially after hearing they had threatened Hermione. Frowning at the puzzle he was reminded of the Latin word puzzles Mistress Andromeda would make him solve, quickly deducing that the third potion should let him pass through.
His original plan of just stopping the boys had been shot to hell now that he knew that whoever was ahead of him was after the Philosopher's Stone, a subject he had read about during the summer when trying to find out information about Albus Dumbledore.
A stone that could produce the Elixir of life, the unicorn blood, a troll showing up in the school, the strange wraith in the forest, it all started to make sense now, like small fragments of a plot solidifying in his mind. He shivered as he walked through the flames, not because he feared the flames but because he was fairly certain he'd run into that same dark creature again.
He briefly wondered what was delaying Dumbledore; regardless of his personal dislike for the man he definitively wanted him there right now.
Stepping through the door he entered a circular room with pillars, but what held his attention was the man staring into the familiar mirror in the middle of the room. The man straightened and turned towards him, a cold sneer on his face, completely unlike the stuttering facade he usually presented. A glint of red flashed in his eyes, a terrible darkness hiding behind the average face, making Harry flinch at the contrast.
"Harry Potter. I am not surprised to find you here; I knew you were unlike the other children after what I saw in that bathroom during Halloween."
He chuckled softly, the creepy sound sending shivers down Harry's back
"Are you really Quirrell?"
His chuckle escalated to a soft laughter, the red flashing in his eyes every time the light hit them at an angle.
"I am, but I am also more. So much more. I am never alone anymore. No. Not me. Never alone."
Still laughing he turned towards the mirror, his laughter abruptly dying out like it was never there in first place, leaving the chamber in an eerie silence.
"How does it work? Why doesn't it work? I can see it. We can see it. I see my desire. I am presenting the stone to my Master and he greatly rewards me. Why? Why doesn't it give me the stone?"
A cold voice, high pitched and sounding like creaky door in an abandoned house answered him,
"Use the boy."
Quirrell's eyes snapped to Harry, a strange fervour glowing in them.
"The boy? Yes, the boy. You, Potter, you can make it work. Look into the mirror and tell me what you see!"
Glad to look away from those creepy eyes he glanced into the mirror, seeing himself smirking at him before reaching into his pocket. His mirror image pulled out the stone, winked at him and put it back, making a sudden weight settle in his pocket. Realizing what he held in his pocket, Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. Whatever Quirrell was, he could not be allowed to have the stone, not to mention what might happen to himself if he outlived his usefulness to the creepy man.
"I, uhh, see myself as Head boy, receiving the Quidditch Cup from Professor Sprout."
"What? No, that's not possible. No, he said you would work, no!"
The same cold voice echoed in the room again,
"He lies. Let me speak to him."
"Master? Master wishes to speak; master shall teach the boy!"
Harry stared at the man as he turned around and started to unwrap his turban. Like looking at a train wreck you know is going to happen, Harry found himself unable to turn away, gazing in trepidation as the strips of cloth fell away, revealing a grotesque face embedded into his skull. The eyes snapped open, the familiar red eyes of the beast from the forest staring right into Harry's green eyes, making his hand twitch for his wand in reflex.
"Harry Potter... do you sssee what I have become? Once the most feared wizard in the world, now I am but a parasssite to a willing host. All because of you!"
Trying desperately to control his breathing he stared into the repulsive face, slowly piecing together his words.
"Voldemort?"
The word was uttered with disbelief and a small tinge of hope that he should be mistaken. The grin he received in return washed away all of his hopes and made fear curl in his stomach,
"Yesss, not as dead as some might have you believe. I have gone beyond what any other wizard has achieved, I am immortal. I am beyond flesssh."
The burn in his scar was turning painful, making him pull out his full Occlumency in return. It had the added effect of letting him compose his thoughts, trying desperately to figure out a way to get out of the room. Where the fuck was Dumbledore?
"Now Harry Potter, hand me the ssstone."
Realizing he only had one chance at this, he slowly reached towards his pocket where the stone was, watching the cold red eyes stare at his hand triumphantly. Using every ounce of skill his last year with his Mistresses, Amelia and Tonks had given him, he pulled out his wand from his wrist holster in one smooth move, snapping an incredibly strong Depulso Charm from it within the same second.
The move was Auror class in execution, the speed and precision of his movements almost perfect and the adrenaline that flowed through his veins made the spell hugely overpowered, rippling through the air as it closed the distance rapidly. Harry felt a brief second of joy as the spell crossed the short space between them, before his eyes widened in sudden horror.
His opponent was no Auror, Quirrell looked like a snake as he bent around the spell, his back bending sideways in an impossible angle. Before Harry had time to curse at his failure, he was forced to dodge the sudden barrage of spells hammering his location. He threw up a Protego only to have it instantly shattered by power unlike anything he had ever felt before; his quick parry on a spell left him open to another one that crushed the bones in his left arm, throwing him to the floor.
Looking up he didn't even have time to react as another spell ripped his wand from his fingers, throwing it into Quirrell's hands. Five seconds he thought, trying to control his gasp of pain, five seconds and he had the advantage of surprise on his side. Ridiculous.
"Harry, Harry, Harry, didn't your parents teach you anything?"
The words and the soft chuckle made his Occlumency crash and burn like it was never present, his rage and anger at his parents' murderer standing in front of him coursing through his veins, whipping his magic into a furious storm as it cascaded through his body. The pain in his arm and scar were like drops of water caught in a hurricane, his mind paying no attention to them as pure red-hot power burned through his flesh.
The colors of the world brightened as his eyes took on a furious glow, the rampant magic looking desperately for an outlet. Forcing it into his hands he bellowed in rage before catching the man in surprise with a magic fueled right hook, the furious green magic coating his knuckles as the punch threw him across the room, making him smash against one of the decorative pillars with a loud crack.
The sudden expenditure of magic made Harry slump back down, realizing his shoddy control had made him do something he rarely managed, completely exhaust his reserves. He stared in disbelief as Quirrell slowly stood back up, his face contorted in rage at being caught like that.
"You dare touch me like some filthy muggle!? I will - "
His words were cut off as he grabbed his face where he had been punched, a strange necrotic blackness spreading across his cheek, slowly eating away at his flesh. He grabbed his face in shock as it spread quickly down his neck, the oily darkness disintegrating his body as it went.
"What is this Potter!? WHAT IS THIS MAGIC?"
He reached his hands towards Harry only to stumble in horror as the blackness spread across them, his digits disappearing into thin air as the magic ate him alive. Harry could only stare wide eyed as the former Professor collapsed in a screaming heap, eaten alive by what looked like rapid decomposition. The dark creature he now knew as Voldemort seemed to rise out of Quirrell's remains, staring at Harry with pure hatred glowing in his blood red eyes.
Before it could do anything, Harry felt a humongous magical resonance cover the entire room, making him shift his eyes to the door where one Albus Dumbledore stood, his normally jovial blue eyes radiating pure power while his strange looking wand seemed to practically hum with magic. His wand let out a spell that seemed to be purely made of light, making the dark wraith shriek in pain and fear as it dodged around it, before quickly disappearing into the roof.
As Voldemort disappeared Harry felt the last vestiges of his magic and adrenaline fading, letting the sweet darkness of sleep finally embrace him.
XXX
"Looks like he's waking up."
Harry slowly opened his eyes, cringing at the bright light that apparently tried to shove nails into his eyes.
"Oh, sorry about that dear."
The stern looking witch in front of him waved her wand at the drapes, thankfully dimming the light and letting him get a look at his surroundings. It only took him a brief glance at all the white surrounding him before he realized he was in the hospital wing. His attempt to ask the school matron, Madam Poppy Pomfrey, what was going on ended in a dry cough.
"Easy now, you've been out for three days, drink this."
Harry glanced at the light blue potion before gulping it down, feeling relief spread up his sore throat.
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey, what's wrong with me?"
"Oh, not much anymore, just a bit of magical exhaustion still. Your arm was a mess when you were brought in but that's already been taken care of."
He exhaled in relief at that.
"How long do I have to stay here?"
This was met with a disapproving gaze, before she answered,
"You'll be staying overnight for observation."
Seeing him about to complain she continued,
"If you have a problem with it I can ask Professor Tonks to discuss it with you."
Harry paled; Mistress Andromeda would not take any disobedience about his own health lightly; making him shake his head.
"No, uh, that's fine, I'll stay."
She smirked before patting his leg and walking away, letting Harry check his surroundings. He was pleased to see a small pile of get-well cards and gifts on the table next to him, but before he could reach for them Dumbledore walked in.
"Ah, good morning Harry, Madam Pomfrey told me you had woken up."
"Good morning Headmaster."
"Feeling alright then my boy?"
Frowning slightly at the informal way of speech he simply tried to ignore it,
"Uhh, yes Sir. Umm Headmaster, what exactly happened to Professor Quirrell? Or well, Voldemort?"
He seemed startled that Harry knew it was Voldemort, before composing himself.
"You know it was Voldemort?"
"Yes Sir, he bragged about being immortal."
"Hmm, yes well, can you tell me what happened?"
After listening to his story, he pondered for a moment before tugging his beard,
"Whereas I cannot tell you for certain what happened, I can give an educated guess if you would like?"
Harry nodded, an educated guess from someone like Dumbledore held more weight than a research paper from most other people, he was not going to turn it down.
"When your mother died on Halloween, I think she did something special for you when she gave her life to protect you. Something involving both a lot of magic and an incredible amount of love for her own flesh and blood. This left a mark on you, a blood protection you might call it. Now for someone so utterly dark, so utterly corrupt like Voldemort, being touched by someone like you, who has been touched by such a pure sacrifice is like…poison."
Harry nodded thoughtfully at this, the warm feeling of carrying something his mother had left for him made him feel a lot better. Not to mention it made a lot of sense, the weird blackness that had consumed Quirrell had started from where he had punched him. Surprisingly he felt absolutely no guilt about being the cause of his death, he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing or not.
"Now Harry, I heard you were being invited to stay at the Bones' during the summer."
Harry frowned at that, it wasn't really a question, more of a statement and he couldn't understand what it had to do with Dumbledore.
"I do not know if you know this, but I am the one who insisted you should stay at the Dursley's."
He seemed to flinch slightly at the venomous glare he received for that, yet didn't seem surprised that Harry knew about his involvement.
"I did this for a reason Harry, the protection your mother left is unique. Incredibly powerful but also very finicky, it was built on love and blood and also requires familiar blood to be kept active. Petunia was Lily's sister as you know."
He watched Harry's face as the boy started putting the information together.
"Using the protection left on you and the familiar blood of Petunia Dursley, formerly known as Petunia Evans, I constructed a unique set of blood wards around Privet Drive, wards so strong they can keep you safe from any form of dark influence or power."
Harry grunted at that; he didn't want to admit it but that was pretty impressive. He had read about some basic wards with Mistress Andromeda and had never heard of wards powerful or comprehensive enough to block everything dark magic related.
"I have to go back there, don't I?"
"It hurts me more than I can say that you find returning to your home to be such a negative thing Harry, but yes, in order to keep the protection active you have to return to Privet Drive."
"How long?"
"What?"
"For how long do I have to stay their Sir?"
He seemed slightly surprised before thinking for a moment.
"Three weeks, a month to be completely safe but three weeks should be enough."
"Then I will spend three weeks at Privet Drive and the rest of the summer at Bones Manor."
He frowned slightly at that but nodded, neither of them were completely pleased but it was a good middle ground.
"Sir?"
"Yes Harry?"
"What happened to the stone?"
"Oh, right, I destroyed it two days ago. No need to look so shocked, I spoke with the Flamel's and they agreed it was better this way; they didn't want to be responsible for the possible rise of Voldemort."
Harry couldn't say he liked the fact that such a priceless artefact was destroyed after all the trouble he went through, yet he understood the Flamel's. If Voldemort had risen to power because of an object of their creation they would no doubt feel a tremendous amount of guilt.
He said his good byes with the Headmaster and watched him walk away while contemplating the obstacle course he had gone through. He had to admit it wasn't what he expected at all, at the risk of sounding arrogant he thought it was far too easy.
Now Mistress Narcissa often talked about political discussions, and how you would carefully lure an opponent into a verbal trap before springing something they couldn't refute on them, watching them squirm as you trapped them.
He hoped that was what Dumbledore had planned with his simple traps followed by the Mirror of Erised at the end, lulling Voldemort into a sense of confidence before stumping him with the mirror. Yet a small niggling part of him couldn't help but entertain the thought that maybe the obstacles could be overcome by first years because they were designed to be overcome by first years.