What if Harry's faith in Dumbledore had wavered? And what if Voldemort had seen it?
A/N: The next few chapters will backtrack to cover the events that led to Harry joining Voldemort. First stop, year one.
Until It Sleeps
Chapter One
So tear me open, pour me out
The things inside that scream and shout
And the pain still hates me, so hold me until it sleeps
-Until it Sleeps, Metallica
Harry's legs felt like lead, and he didn't seem able to breath properly. He was staring at the terrible face staring out from the back of Quirrel's head. The face of Lord Voldemort.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what the Dark Mage had done to look like this.
"Harry Potter..." The whispering voice was hoarse and rasping, and as cold as ice.
"See what I have become?" It murmured, "Mere shadow and vapour... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past few weeks... you saw faithful Quirrel drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me the Stone in your pocket?"
Harry completely forgot how to breath. He knew. He knew! He wanted to run but his legs didn't seem to want to obey him any more. Looking at that terrifying, smileing face, he bitterly cursed Dumbledore for leaving Hogwarts and leaving him to face this.
"But my dear Harry, he already knows..." Voldemort's voice was soft, mocking.
Harry's eyes went wide. He could read his mind?
The horrible grin told him everything. "He knew you would come... A little test, as you will... for his most loyal pawn-"
"Liar!" Somehow Harry had found his voice.
If the smile had been horrible, the laugh was even worse. High, cruel and mirthless, it sent shudders down Harry's spine. "Oh no, I am not lying... How else can you explain why you are down here?... You are young... not even a dozen years of age... pray tell me, Harry Potter... how else can you have come so far if he did not intend for you to do so?"
Harry didn't know, but the moment it was not the most pressing matter. Quirrel's wand was. He played for time, "If you knew this was all a test, then why are you down here?" he shouted, trying to back away towards the flames.
"I am all but dead you foolish boy." Voldemort whispered, black fury gleaming in his slit pupiled eyes, "To run a risk and gain the Philosopher's Stone... it was the only chance I had... the only choice..."
"I won't give it to you." Harry warned.
"You fool!" Voldemort snarled, "Do you really think we have time to barter here? I daresay Dumbledore is on his way here this instant."
The scowl crossed Harry's face, he was being reckless, but it actually seemed as though Voldemort didn't want to kill him unless he had to. "Presuming this is all some kind of test as you want me to believe."
"If you spared a moment to think, you would believe it too," this time there seemed to be something like desperation in the Dark Lord's voice, "These spells guarding the Stone were meant to keep me out... to keep out the darkest wizard in a century... Yet you, and no doubt your friends, managed to get through... three first-year wizards managed to bypass the greatest magical spells set up... how else would you have managed that if someone did not mean you to do so?... Dumbledore wants to test you... to be certain of your loyalties..."
Harry hesitated. "Why? What are you offering that makes you any better than Dumbledore?"
Voldemort smiled, a smile which made Harry feel he had slipped up somewhere. "I am offering the truth... the truth about everything you wanted to know... the truths Dumbledore is refusing to tell you..." The Dark Lord's voice was soft, like a snake charmer's. "He has done nothing to deserve your loyalty. He sent you off to live with filthy muggles when so many wizards would have taken you in... he sends you into danger without a thought... I am not so foolish as to think he was ignorant of my prescence within these walls... Ask him why he showed you how the mirror of Erised worked... ask him, next time you see him... ask him the question whos answer you most dearly want to know... Ask him why I killed your parents..."
Harry stared. He had never even told anyone that.
"Give me the Stone, and I shall tell you... For I assure you, he never will... And he will keep calling on you, Harry Potter... to be the hero you have been made out to be... and to finish his work for him... Feeding you on with little tid-bits of information for what you truely wish to know... Give me the Stone now... and I will tell you everything he has been keeping from you..."
Harry's hand crept almost of it's own accord to his pocket, "Youwon't touch me afterwards?
Voldemort smiled, "Give me the Stone, and I will no longer have any reason to harm you..."
Harry swallowed, thinking of Ron and Hermione.
"Nor any of your friends..."
Oh, it was so tempting...
"Give me the Stone..."
Moving quickly, lest he change his mind, Harry withdrew the Philosopher's Stone from his pocket and threw it at Quirrel, who spun around and caught it before drawing his wand.
Harry's stomach dropped. Oh, how could he have been so foolish? "You promised..."
"And so I did." Voldemort said, "But don't you think Dumbledore will be suspicious finding you here unharmed and the Stone gone? He will not be able to see through you, I will see to that. Do not worry, Harry Potter, we will see each other very soon, and I will answer all your questions."
Quirrel pointed his wand at Harry. "Stupefy!"
And all went black.
Harry slowly came back up from whatever dark abyss had swallowed him, he got the impression of many people close by and voices began to filter though the fog shrouding his senses.
Harry opened his eyes blearily. The world was very blurry but there was no mistaking the silvery beard and half-moon spectacles above him.
"Headmaster..." Harry croaked, dazed. Then the mass of memories and emotions kicked it and it was all he could do not to scream.
Yet somehow, Dumbledore didn't seem to have noticed his momentary panic, smiling serenly down at him. "Good afternoon Harry."
Harry blinked, this hadn't been what he'd been expecting. He wondered if the previous few hours had been a dream... how long had it been? Hours? Days? How long had he been unconcious? "Sir! The Stone! What happpened?"
"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times, Quirrel does not have the Stone."
What? "Then who does? Sir, I-"
"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have be thrown out."
Harry forced himself to calm down. Had Voldemort not been able to get out? Was the Stone a fake? What was going on? More as not to look at Dumbledore than for any other reason, Harry looked around. He was in bed in the hospital wing, the table beside him groaning under the weight of hundreds of cards and sweets.
"Tokens from your friends and admirers" Dumbledore beamed.
Harry had to fight down as scowl as Dumbledore chattered on, under the completely mistaken impression that Harry was listening. He was beginning to think that Voldemort had been quite right, Dumbledore seemed to be doing everything possible to distract him from what had happened and the inevitable questions that would follow. He would be talking about the weather next.
"How long have I been here?"
"Three days. Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most pleased you have come around, they have been extremly worried."
And now a guilt trip, wonderful.
"But sir, the Stone-"
"I see you are not to be distracted. very well, the Stone. Proffessor Quirrel did not manage to take it from you, and they were both destroyed in the ensuing fight."
What is he talking about? Harry thought, wishing had been awake to see what had happened after he had been cursed.
"By the time I arrived, there was no sign of either Voldemort nor Quirrel, and you, dear boy, were out cold on the floor. I believe Quirrel managed to get one final curse in before he died."
It hit Harry like a thunderbolt.
He didn't know.
He remembered Voldemort's words; "He will not be able to see through you, I will see to that." Quirrel had set something up to make Dumbledore believe that the Stone was destroyed! It made perfect sense, this way there would be no search parties, no questions asked. The only way Dumbledore would know anything was if Harry told him himself.
He opened his mouth-
And closed it again. There was no point in saying anything, what was done, was done, and if he spoke about it he was liable to be thrown out of Hogwarts. Nothing was worth that.
"Destroyed?" Harry asked, trying to see how complex the lie was, "but your friend- Nicolas Flamel-"
"Oh, so you know about Nicolas?" Dumbledore sounded delighted, unsurprising since they were moving away from more dangerous waters, "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a chat and agreed it's all for the best."
"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"
"They have enough Elixir left to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."
Harry's amazement must have shown, for Dumbledore smiled again, "To on as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very very long day. After all, to the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."
He really is barking mad, Harry marvelled. He was suddenly glad he had given the Stone away, Voldemort was quite right, he'd had no place defending Dumbledore.
Lost in his own thoughts, Harry missed the end of Dumbledore's inane speech. When he came back to himself, the man was humming and staring at the ceiling.
Time to find out once and for all, Harry decided, he just had to build up to it. "Sir? I've been thinking... Sir- even if the Stone's gone, Voldemort will still try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"
"No Harry, he has not." And you never said a truer word, Harry thought privately, "He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share..." Harry zoned out, waiting for Dumbledore to stop talking so he could move on to what he really wanted to ask.
"Sir," he started when Dumbledore had finished, "Therre are some things I'd like to know, if you can tell me..." And you'd better, "some things I want to know the truth about..."
"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "Is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefor be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
In other words, Harry thought bitterly, 'I'll answer what I want you to know, and if I don't, then tough.' Damn him, and damn Voldemort too for being so right.
"Why did Voldemort kill my parents?"
Harry all but held his breath as Dumbledore sighed, willing the old man to tell him the truth.
But- "Alas, the very first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now."
Dumbledore went on, but Harry had stopped listening, his ears ringing in supressed rage. He had wanted Voldemort to be wrong, for Dumbledore to smile sadly and tell him the truth, but no, just another carrot for Harry to follow hungrily in the hopes it would someday be given to him.
There were other questions, but Harry already knew the answer to most of them. Where had his cloak come from? Clearly from Dumbledore, in order for him to give into his temptations, explore the castle, and find the clues neccessary for the little test Dumbledore wanted to put him through.
Let Dumbledore drown in his lies. he would have the truth from another source.
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Skull Bearer.