The exams were over.
It was a grueling two weeks, but Harry had survived through Hermione's nagging and insistent demands of spending an ungodly amount of time studying.
Harry had done well in the written part of the exams but he could tell that the professors were disappointed that he had little to nothing to show for the practical portion.
Transfiguration was a bust. He could do little but stare at the object he was supposed to transfigure with his self-made wand as he scrunched his eyebrows tight together in concentration. The object shifted a bit from its original spot, but that wasn't what Professor McGonagall was looking for. With pursed lips and a deep frown, she had marked it as a failure.
Charms was slightly better. He was able to levitate the feather presented and move it back and forth. But that was something he was capable of before coming to Hogwarts. He was able to get the teacup to change colour but the results were random. All in all, the Charms professor gave him a Poor for his practical exams.
His defense exams ended the same way as Transfiguration did. The professor didn't say anything about his performance, but he gave him a suspicious scowl and muttered under his breath. It was unnerving to be around the professor. It also did not help that his head would throb in pain around the professor. It made it a lot harder to concentrate on anything.
His other classes went well enough. Potions was a breeze for him, and Professor Snape had begrudgingly acknowledged that he might have a talent for it, despite Harry's more than lackluster performance in his wanded subjects. He had quickly shooed Harry out of the classroom after that, not wishing to spend more time in his presence.
Harry was wandering down one of the less frequented corridors on the second floor. With the professors busy grading their exam papers, the students were given some much needed free time to relax.
Hermione was suffering from burnout after she overstressed herself with the exams, and Neville had opted to stay behind and accompany her.
Harry was thinking about going down to Hagrid's hut later in the afternoon. They had moved Norbert, oops… he meant Adalinda, to the Forbidden Forest before the start of the exams.
Adalinda was the Norwegian Ridgeback's new name. It was a 'she', the dragon had informed Harry after they were able to communicate with each other. 'Norbert' was a brutish and unbefitting name for someone of her station. In the end, they had come to an agreement on Adalinda, meaning 'noble serpent'.
He would miss the first time she breathes fire, Harry realized. Her first flames were expected to come in around the six-month mark, sometime in July. It was depressing to think that he would miss one of the most important milestones in her life. They had bonded together after the first words Adalinda spoke, much like him and Hedwig. He could feel his magic reaching out to the dragon and latching onto her. His magic was making the dragon more intelligent and docile. Was her ability to speak Dragonspeak due to proximity to him and the frequency of his visits? It was a mystery to him and Hagrid.
Harry had warned Hagrid not to procure anymore illegal dragon eggs. They can't raise two dragons in the forest. Not without arousing suspicion, and he didn't want to reveal his ability to speak with dragons yet. He wants to be unique, a freak… but he needed power to protect himself first.
He knew from first-hand experience, how freaks were treated due to his dear relatives. They weren't able to do much more besides neglect him due to their fear of his freakishness. The witches and wizards would have no such compunction. Their fear of his uniqueness would drive them to hurt him in ways that his relatives couldn't. Hagrid understood Harry's worries and agreed to keep it a secret, even from Dumbledore. Harry knew of Hagrid's ambitions… the giant wanted a horde of dragons for himself. Dumbledore would put a stop to that, if he caught on too early.
An almost inaudible sound of shuffling had Harry turning to look behind him.
A bright red spell slammed into his chest, and darkness…
~v~
Ugh.
Harry moaned softly as he slowly regained consciousness. He wanted to grab his head with his hands to alleviate the dizziness but found that he was immobilized by shiny ropes made of crimson light.
What happened?
He was in a small room made of dark grey stone. There was barely any light in the room, besides the light charm cast by his captor and the ropes binding him. Harry's eyes darted towards the dark figure at the other end of the room. The turban on his captor's head and the strong pungent smell of garlic gave away the man's identity.
Professor Quirrell.
Why did he-?
The professor turned back to look at Harry.
"Ahhh, Mr. Potter… glad to see you join us." The professor stated fluently with no stutter in his speech.
"Professor?" Harry questioned, still somewhat confused as to why he was captured.
The professor waved his wand at Harry and he was silenced by magical means. His panicky breath made no sound in the tiny room.
Professor Quirrell turned back to gaze at a tall mirror. It was familiar to Harry, a niggling thought at the back of his mind.
Ah! The mirror he found on his first foray in the castle after curfew. The mirror in the abandoned classroom that showed him his older self.
What did the professor want with the mirror?
"I see the Stone, master. I see it! But, how do I get it out?" Quirrell muttered to himself.
"The boy! Use the boy!" Another voice sounded out. This one sending goosebumps up Harry's arms as it was mostly hisses and it came out of nowhere.
Harry glanced around the room in vain. There wasn't anyone else besides him and the professor.
Professor Quirrell summoned Harry with a wave of his wand and he was dragged in front of the mirror. The professor grabbed Harry by the back of his robes and thrusted him in front of the mirror.
"LOOK! LOOK INTO THE MIRROR!" Professor Quirrell demanded coldly. "Tell me what do you see in the mirror."
Harry twisted his neck slightly to look into the mirror.
The same image from that night greeted him.
He shook his head slightly to dispel the image.
"What do you see, Potter! Tell me." Professor Quirrell drew closer and Harry could feel his nauseating breath on him. It was a combination of raw garlic and something decaying.
Harry struggled not to vomit from the putrid smell and looked into the mirror once more.
This time, he saw a reflection of himself slipping a stone that looked like a cross between an amethyst and ruby into his robes. The blood red stone was glowing with a slight purplish light and Harry could feel something physically weighing down his robes in reality.
"Do you see the Stone? The Philosopher's Stone? Tell me! Can you reach it?" Professor Quirrell demanded once more, impatience and desperation bleeding into his tone.
"Let me see the boy! Let me see him!" The sibilant voice stated coldly.
"B-but, master… you are still not strong enough." Professor Quirrell replied shakily to the invisible voice.
"Sssilence, you fool. The boy! Show him to me!" The voice hissed with a deadly finality.
Harry collapsed onto the floor as the professor released the grip on his robes. Unable to brace himself from the fall, he landed painfully and curled into himself as he watched the professor reach up to his turban.
Harry watched morbidly as dread settled in the pit of his stomach. As the turban wrappings were slowly unraveled, Harry could feel a sense of foreboding build up. Something deep inside him told him it was inevitable.
Professor Quirrell let the wrappings fall from his hands and onto the floor. The professor turned on his feet, as if he was moving in slow-motion. His misshapen head was soon facing him and a face that could only be from his worst nightmares was staring at Harry.
Blood red eyes. Slit pupils. Slit nostrils.
Everything screamed venomous to Harry.
This was a predator staring him down.
Only poisonous snakes have slit eyes, Harry recalled detachedly.
"Harry Potter. We meet again." The distorted face whispered softly, but Harry caught every single word. It was a smooth tone, silky with a slight undertone that he couldn't identify.
Harry's mind screamed DANGER!!
He stared at the face wordlessly. His body was still bound by the ropes and he could barely right himself on the floor.
"I've waited for more than ten years. Ten years for this reunion between you and I. The greatest dark lord the world has ever seen… How is it that someone so powerless, so talentless, so utterly pathetic, has managed to bring about my downfall?" The face spoke dispassionately. The pale face warped even more as it stared at Harry distastefully like he was looking at a bug about to be crushed under his boot.
"V-Voldemort!?" Harry stuttered upon recognition. His parents' murderer was standing right in front of him. He was still alive! He wasn't dead! I-it can't be true!
"YES, POTTER! IT IS I, LORD VOLDEMORT!" The face announced grandly. "Did you think I was dead? Vanquished? NO! I am greater than all the dark lords that came before me. I can't be stopped! Not even by death!"
Voldemort flicked the wand in his hand and vanished the ropes binding Harry.
"Stand, Potter! Take out your wand and show me what you're hiding! I know you're hiding your power and abilities! You can't be a squib! No, you can't!" Voldemort ranted hysterically, it was almost like he was reassuring himself towards the end.
Harry stood up shakily as he reached for his self-made wand.
"At last, Potter. Now we shall see what you are made of. First, we bow." The dark lord commanded.
Harry bended his waist half-heartedly, his eyes never leaving the pale abomination. There was little he could do against the evil man, and it was a simple enough order.
Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Harry.
Harry was sent flying backwards, crashing heavily into the door.
There was nothing flashy about it. No incantations, no lights, no movement.
A simple banishing spell.
Harry rolled on the ground coughing harshly as dust fell around him. The blow had winded him and his glasses were lost somewhere… His wheezing breaths could be heard in the now silent room.
Harry lifted his head blearily towards the dark lord. His blurry sight making it hard to tell what expression the dark lord was making.
Voldemort stared at the boy calculatingly.
"Are you going to keep hiding your powers, Potter?" His cruel tone rang out in the room.
Another flick.
Harry was sent rolling along the dusty floor of the room.
" Crucio!"
Sharp pain was shooting through Harry's nerves as his body contorted wordlessly. It felt like red hot knives were stabbing into him everywhere.
"AHHHH!!!" Harry cried out in agonizing pain.
Voldemort lifted the torture spell after a couple seconds.
"Do you feel like showing me now? Stand up!" Voldemort demanded angrily. The dark lord had assumed complete control of Quirrell's body and he knew it wouldn't last long. The body was decaying too quickly.
It took him a few tries but Harry eventually stumbled to his feet. He grasped his wand tightly and pointed it at the dark lord.
"Go on, Harry. Try casting a curse, what did your professor teach you this year? Show me." Voldemort taunted.
" Flipendo!" Harry shouted. " Flipendo! Flipendo! Petrificus Totalus!"
The dark lord narrowed his eyes slightly at Harry's failure.
"Can't even cast a simple first year spell? Are you even trying, Potter?" Voldemort asked coldly. " Crucio!"
The dark lord held the spell for another fifteen seconds.
Harry was twitching convulsively on the floor unable to remain standing on his shaky legs.
"Stand up! STAND UP, POTTER! You are WORTHLESS!"
Harry lied on the floor weakly.
Voldemort lifted Harry's body with a wordless spell. Casting the unforgivable curses in rapid succession was taking its toll on his body. He directed Harry in front of the mirror once more.
"Look into the mirror and tell me what you see." Voldemort's red eyes gleamed maliciously. He was using Legilimency to read the boy's thoughts. He can't lie to him now.
Harry raised his head tiredly and looked into the dusty mirror once more.
He saw his reflection waving back at him, and patting his robes conspiratorially.
His body fell down limply on the floor as the spell holding him up failed.
'The boy has the Stone!' Voldemort realized belatedly. 'His magic was failing. He has to hurry.'
Voldemort lunged at Harry without a second thought, grasping at the boy's robes. One of his hands pinned the boy down on the floor by his throat.
"AHHHH!!" Voldemort recoiled in pain. He stared at his hand in horror. The hand that was grasping the boy's throat was burnt badly and it was starting to crumble.
'NO! I AM SO CLOSE!' Voldemort reached out to grasp Harry once more.
Harry reached out blindly to ward off Voldemort's hands. He gripped the dark lord's wrists weakly and it worked to his surprise. The dark lord's hands crumbled in pieces and soon turned to ashes. He reached up higher for the prof- the dark lord's face. The dark lord's features had replaced the professor's. His red eyes glowing unnaturally as it glared at him hatefully.
Harry pressed his hands against Voldemort's face and pushed him off his body with slight difficulty. The dark lord was crumbling at a faster pace now and his body weighed only a fraction of its original weight.
He turned his head to the side and watched as the rest of the body burn to cinders.
Harry released a soft gasp as tension bled out of his body. But it didn't last long.
A ghastly dark cloud was forming above the pile of ash, and soon he spotted the blood red eyes glaring at him amidst the cloud.
"RAAAHHHH!" Voldemort screamed incoherently as he barreled towards Harry.
Harry raised his arms to shield himself from the shade, but it was useless.
The shade passed through his body and Harry was knocked out by the blinding pain that erupted from the scar on his forehead.
~v~
Harry woke up with a gasp.
The soft light filtering into the room did little to ease the throbbing pain in his head. He could still feel pain coursing through his body, though it was muted somewhat.
He was in a soft bed with curtains drawn around him.
It took him a while, but he figured out that he was in the hospital wing. He could barely make out the whispering beyond the curtains.
A few seconds later, the curtains were parted and Dumbledore greeted him with a grandfatherly smile.
"Just a few minutes, headmaster. Mr. Potter is in desperate need of rest and it must be painful for him to remain awake whilst he is still recovering from exposure to the Cruciatus curse." Madam Pomfrey reminded him sternly.
"Yes, of course. I will make this a short visit." Dumbledore agreed readily and turned to Harry once more.
"Good afternoon, Harry. How are you feeling?" The headmaster asked with a sad frown as Harry tried to sit up in the bed. Harry's trembling arms failed to support him and he just collapsed back into bed resignedly.
"Sorry, professor. I can't really get up right now." Harry apologized in a quiet tone.
"Worry not, my boy. I didn't expect you to be up yet and we can speak while you are resting. Madam Pomfrey would be most displeased with me if you got up."
Dumbledore pulled out a wand from his long sleeves and conjured another pillow for Harry so he could prop himself up.
The headmaster observed Harry quietly before he began hesitantly.
"Can you recall what happened with Professor Quirrell?" The old man asked softly. He had engineered the encounter so Harry would gradually be prepared to face off with Voldemort. He did not realize that Voldemort still retained enough power to cast the Unforgivable curses… He had hoped another meeting with the dark lord would awaken any latent potential in Harry. Alas, all he got was that his mother's protection was still running strong.
"Only parts of it… Professor Quirrell brought me down to a room and asked to me look in a mirror. I only saw myself… Then the professor took off his turban and I saw Voldemort on the back of his head, and I don't remember much after that." Harry recounted glumly.
"I see… Did you see a red stone, by any chance? It's about the size of your fist." Dumbledore inquired hopefully.
"No? I was bound in ropes the whole time until I passed out. It was too dark to see much." Harry tilted his head cutely.
"Ah very well then. I will leave you to rest then. Please let me know if you remember anything else." Dumbledore nodded genially and left the infirmary.
Madam Pomfrey came by a minute later to check on Harry. After making sure he took his potions, she informed him that he won't be leaving any time soon. At least not until the last week of school. The school nurse had told him that he would be feeling the aftereffects for another month or so… Harry grimaced slightly. It would really suck to have to do chores while his body is still aching.
Harry spent the remainder of his time at school resting in the hospital wing. Neville and Hermione had come by often to visit him along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He was their star seeker, it didn't matter if he couldn't cast spells as long as he could fly a broom and catch the snitch. Or so Oliver Wood had told him when he was first recruited to the team.
He was thinking of resigning from the team next year. Quidditch wasn't so important in the grand scheme of things. Now that he knew Voldemort was still out there, he had to prepare himself for their next meeting. That feeling deep inside telling him that their meeting was inevitable remained strong after their first true encounter that he could remember.
Harry reached for his belongings and wrapped his hands around the Philosopher's Stone hidden in his robes. He smiled softly to himself. He has plans for the Stone. It will be crucial in his preparation for the next meeting against Voldemort. He was glad that one of the wandless spells he had mastered before coming to Hogwarts had come in handy, even against Dumbledore. The Philosopher's Stone was invisible to everyone but him, very handy when he needed to hide stuff from the Dursleys.
Hedwig had flown into the infirmary when Harry thought about writing a letter. The matron tried to shoo the owl out of the room but she remained at Harry's side stubbornly.
His shaky hands made his handwriting worse than usual and it took twice as long to write the letter. Harry hoped that it was still legible.
"To Nicolas Flamel, Hedwig." He told his owl familiar quietly as he tied the letter to her leg.
Hedwig gave him a soft hoot in reply and made her way out of the hospital wing.
He was alone in the infirmary. Harry had plenty of time to go over the details of his kidnapping and he came to one startling conclusion.
Albus Dumbledore – Can't be trusted.
He was involved in his kidnapping somehow. Why was the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts? The mirror was part of his plan. Harry had sensed something the first time he came across the mirror. There was another source of magic in the room, and now that he had the chance to come in close proximity with the headmaster, he recognized that source of magic. Did the headmaster arrange for him to come across the mirror? How did Voldemort escape his notice for an entire year?
The two things Harry was certain of was that the headmaster was no ally of his and Voldemort was still alive. He won't be getting any help from the headmaster, so he'll have to look elsewhere. The Stone was the perfect bargaining chip to request help from the immortal alchemist. Who better to teach him than Dumbledore's mentor? Maybe he'll be able to figure out what's wrong with me.
Harry looked down at his heavily bandaged hands. He could detect a smoky smell from them and he was afraid of touching his friends with his hands. He didn't want to burn them alive like he did to Voldemort.