Harry roared and immediately launched a volley of curses, hexes, jinxes, and even a few potentially inconvenient charms forward, not knowing or caring who was in front of him.

The figure turned around, revealing itself to be Professor Quirrell, who shockingly blocked, countered, or deflected each one. He fired his own spell, but Harry dodged the jet of light and took a quick moment to scan the room for Snape. Oddly, Quirrell seemed to be alone, but Harry had no time to think of that as he ducked under another attack and instinctively rolled to the side to avoid a follow up.

"Incendio!" Harry bellowed. He might not be able to breathe fire yet, but he could do the next best thing.

Quirrell seemed to be a bit surprised at Harry's use of a potentially lethal spell, but after a moment he unleashed a silent and devastating counter. Harry's flames seemed to collide with an invisible wall that pushed them back and forced them into an ever more narrow area, until they were forced into Harry's wand, making it explode in his hand.

Harry was so stunned that he wasn't able to avoid the next spell, which bound him where he stood no matter how much he struggled.

"Attempting to kill me Harry? You should know better. What would Dumbledore say if he knew?"

"Not stuttering anymore, 'Professor'? A real pity you're a better fighter than a teacher. Now where's Snape?"

"Snape? What would he be doing here?"

"Don't bother denying it, I know you both tried to get in here before!"

Quirrell threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, of course. Snape certainly seems the type doesn't he? And considering how much he takes his hatred of your father out on you, it's not surprising you'd think him dark. Really, Severus has been my best cover – who would suspect p-poor st-stuttering Professor Quirrell next to such a cartoonish caricature of a villain? Silly boy, Snape was trying to stop me. It's just a pity that the gamekeeper's beast didn't kill him when it had the chance."

Those revelations threw Harry for a loop, but he wasn't dead yet, and that meant he needed to stall for time.

"So what's this about Quirrell? Gold, immortality, or do you think stealing the Philosopher's Stone out from under Dumbledore's nose will secure your place in the history books; if it's the last, I really ought to remind you that nobody can stay awake in Binns' class."

The evidently evil professor laughed again, "Such a funny child. It's not about any of those – it's about power! When I give my master the stone, he will reward me beyond my wildest dreams!"

"Your master?" This was news to Harry. What master?

"Oh, so you don't know everything do you Potter?"

"Let me speak for myself Quirrell," the new voice was sibilant, soft, and dangerous enough to send a chill down Harry's spine. Whatever was about to happen, Harry realized that it was now truly a life-or-death situation. He began concentrating on his inner power, the magic spark deep inside…

"Master, you are not strong enough yet!"

"I have strength enough for this…"

Quirrell turned around and began unwrapping his turban. Harry was confused. What could possibly be frightening about the back of the professor's head? Was it the essence of the headache-inducing garlic smell?

And then the turban fell away to reveal a face, and for the briefest of moments Harry could see in his mind's eye green light… and for the first time he could hear high, cold laughter alongside it.

"Hello Harry."

Harry could admit that for once, he was truly afraid, but he recalled something that Godzilla had taught him long ago, a lesson Mothra and her priestesses had disapproved of, but one that resonated in him right now.

Fear had only one true purpose, and that was to fuel one's wrath. Anything that made you truly afraid was a threat, either to yourself or to those whom you loved, and the only appropriate response to such threats was to destroy them. For that purpose you had to stoke the fires of rage, imagine them burning away your fear to leave only your purpose: to destroy the threat.

"And he is right Harry," Voldemort said, seeming to reply to Harry's own thoughts, "long ago even I feared death, but now look at me: I may be a mere shade, but I have conquered death, for I learned the only true lesson worth learning: there is no good or evil, only power and those too weak to seek it."

The attempt to corrupt his father's teachings drove Harry's anger to unparalleled heights, far higher than if he had simply continued trying to whip himself into a frenzy. He reached for the spark inside him, and instead found a violent inferno.

"You believe in power, Voldemort? Let me show you mine!"

Harry opened his mouth and azure flames erupted. With Quirrell's back turned, Voldemort's eyes widened and the possessed professor was unable to turn around in time to defend himself before being engulfed. With twin screams of pain and rage, both Quirrell and Voldemort were reduced to ash, and the ropes that bound Harry dissipated. He roared victoriously in emulation of his father, not seeing the malevolent shade rising from Quirrell's ashes. The spirit dove into him and Harry's roar turned into a scream of agony before he lost consciousness…

In many ways, Harry was Godzilla's son. One way in particular was that he was generally cranky when he woke up, but after the briefest moment of clarity imaginable, Harry felt a wave of pain roll over him and was unable to do so much as breathe without aching.

Unfortunately for Harry, he took after his colossal dad in another way: he powered through pain. He immediately opened his eyes and sat up. The room he was in was bright, the bed was relatively comfortable, and he was surrounded by curtains. Despite his headache, he recalled Neville describing the hospital wing, and that fit this place to a tee, so at least he wasn't dead. He looked to one side and saw a variety of snacks and get-well cards.

The curtains before him parted, and Harry had his first real encounter with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry, I see that you are finally awake. As you can see, your friends have been quite worried about you."

"Er… what happened? I mean, what happened, sir? My head hurts…"

"Quite understandable. Attempted, forceful possession is not something gentle. As to what happened, I believe that your mother's love for you protected you from Voldemort, as well as poor Professor Quirrell, who was little more than a shell once he willingly took Voldemort into his body."

"My mother's love?" Harry questioned, "What do you mean, Professor?"

"I can only surmise from the remains in front of the Mirror of Erised, that Voldemort commanded Professor Quirrell to grab you or touch you in some way, and that as a being so full of hatred, was unable to endure contact with a force as powerful as your mother's love."

"Er… Sir? What are you talking about? That isn't what happened in there at all. I know that my parents died protecting me, but it wasn't love that helped me down there. If anything, it was the power of fire."

Here Dumbledore seemed surprised and more than a bit disturbed. "Whatever do you mean my boy?"

"How do I explain it… it's not the sort of thing I'd ask anyone to take on faith. Oh, here we go!" Harry spotted a bag of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans, opened it, took a sniff, and picked one out.

"This one smells like earwax, so I don't mind getting rid of it," Harry held it in the palm of his hand, away from the Headmaster, and reached into himself, finding that the inferno from before was more like a fireplace now. Easily, Harry let out a puff of blue flames, incinerating the bean. Dumbledore looked upset, but Harry was in a bit too much pain to notice and kept talking excitedly.

"I've been trying forever to breathe fire like my dad, and I was able to do it so well in the corridor. I feel so much stronger now that I can do that. I can't wait to show them all!"

"Harry… do you mean to say that you are not going to your relatives this summer?"

It was Harry's turn to look confused. "What do you mean, Headmaster? Of course I'm going back with my family, my uncle is going to be at the train station."

Dumbledore went right back to smiling and his eyes started twinkling. "Excellent. Now Harry, I must tell you now that what happened between you and Professor Quirrell in that chamber is an absolute secret… which of course means that it has become common knowledge in the school's rumor mill. On that note, I believe I should go, before Madam Pomfrey evicts me for bothering a patient."

Harry nodded, not quite sure how the headmaster could be so cavalier about secrets being out in the open, but decided now was the time to ask a couple of questions that had been gnawing at him.

"Professor, before you go may I ask you some things?"

"Of course you may, Harry, and I shall do my best to answer them truthfully."

"Okay, well down there Quirrell said that Snape–"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Right, him. Anyway, Quirrell said that he hated my father. Why is that?"

"Hate, I believe, is too strong a word for such things. While they did dislike one another, your father did do one thing that Severus was never able to forgive."

"And what was that?"

"Saved his life," Dumbledore said simply, with a subtle tone suggesting that that would be all he would say about that.

Confused though he was, Harry was starting to think a bit more clearly, but that still didn't make sense. Snape hated Harry's father for saving him? What kind of person does that? Still, Harry knew when an adult was going to hide information, so he moved on.

"Alright… one more question. Why did Vol– sorry, You-Know-Who–"

"His name is Voldemort, Harry, and I have always said that to be afraid of a thing's name is to increase the fear of it."

"Yes, well, why did Voldemort come after my family? Why did he try to kill me?"

Dumbledore sighed, momentarily looking his full age, "I believe that you are too young for the full explanation, but," he said, preventing Harry's upset outburst, "I can say that he believed your parents to be a threat to him and his plans for having defied him."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore was hiding something – a lot of things if he had to guess – but Harry couldn't think of any way to get more out of him. Maybe if Jet Jaguar or the Shobijin were here they'd know a way. Still, without a way to drag more information out, Harry thanked the headmaster and the old wizard left him alone… for about five minutes.

"HARRY!"

Harry sat up to see Hermione coming towards him to pull him into a hug. Neville was behind her and a bit less exuberant, but still looked very happy.

Powering through the pain that Hermione's hug was putting him in, Harry asked, "What? You're hugging me like it's been years. I haven't been out that long have I?"

Neville gave him a weird look. "Harry, you were out cold for a week. We were starting to think you were dead."

"A week? What did I miss? Hold on, never mind. Before that, I'm sorry for dragging you two into that. I didn't realize how dangerous that was going to be. Hermione, you could have been poisoned. And Neville, you might've died, not to mention that you lost your wand because of me."

"We'd never have let you go down there by yourself Harry, get the very idea out of your head," was Hermione's stern response.

Neville nodded in agreement, adding, "I will miss my wand. It was my dad's and I was sure that Gran would be furious with me for getting it broken, but I think Dumbledore explained some of what happened down there. I've never seen her so proud of me…" He trailed off, beaming.

The trio talked about nothing for a few more minutes until Madame Pomfrey shooed out Hermione and Neville, saying that Harry still needed to rest and recover.

A few days later, she let Harry leave, mostly because it was time for the leaving feast and she could not keep him any longer than that.

There was a bit of nervous energy in the air at the feast, mostly due to how oddly close the house points were. Slytherin had won for the last seven years straight, but Draco's dragon stunt had cost them so many that they were neck and neck with the Hufflepuffs, whose hard work had earned them many, many points; and the Ravenclaws, who had done the same, and additionally unexpectedly won the Quidditch Cup that year. Gryffindor was still in dead last, because there was only so much Harry could do to prevent Snape taking points off of him.

The headmaster stood up and started his speech, hushing everyone in the room.

"Another year has gone by, another group of seventh years are leaving us to go out into the world, and another group of first years have been initiated. The House Cup is almost ready to be given away in what appears to be a three-way tie, but I think that in light of events you've all heard a version of, there are a few last minute points to give out."

A murmur broke out at that. Everyone had heard some version of what went on in the third floor corridor, but no one knew the whole truth. Maybe Dumbledore's final points would shed some light on it.

"First, for an impressive act of selflessness and courage in the face of the most dangerous chess match Hogwarts has seen in many years, I give twenty-five points to Neville Longbottom."

The Neville who'd gotten on the Hogwarts Express all those months ago would have shrank into his seat at the applause he received, but as it was he accepted them with a broad grin on his face.

"Second, for keeping a cool head under pressure and exercise of flawless logic, I award twenty-five points to Hermione Granger."

More applause and a blush from Hermione, who whispered to her friends, "We're tied with the other houses now!"

"And finally, though I may disapprove of his chosen method, for saving a truly priceless artifact from the clutches of evil, I award twenty-five points to Harry Potter."

That put them just above the other houses, and Gryffindor erupted in cheers. Although somewhat muted, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw applauded as well, because at least it hadn't been Slytherin again. Dumbledore changed the hall's decorations to Gryffindor colors, and the feast began.

Before getting on board the train, something occurred to Harry, and he ran to catch up to Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione!"

"Yes?"

"I just realized, that I live on a tropical island, and have a snowy owl. It would be cruel for me to keep her there, and you don't have an owl yet. As much as I love her, would you like to have her, at least for the summer?"

"Harry, are you sure?"

"I'm positive, but if you want to be completely sure," Harry looked to his owl. "What do you say girl? Would you like to spend the summer with Hermione?"

The snowy owl gave a hoot and fluttered onto Hermione's shoulder, and Harry received another crushing hug, but this one did not cause him pain.

"I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything. And you don't even have to write if you don't want to, because I'm so many time zones away from you, it'll take forever for letters to go back and forth. So we'll have lots to talk about when we meet up in September!"

Once the trio had reunited in their shared compartment, Harry gave the same message to Neville, who did see the wisdom behind it.

The ride was uneventful, and Harry and Hermione parted ways from Neville when the train stopped, because they both needed to exit to muggle London. Hermione said goodbye and ran to meet her parents, but Harry was confronted by a strange sight.

He could see his uncle Jet Jaguar and ran to hug him, but much more strangely he saw a horse-like woman, a walrus-like man, and a hideously obese child who all looked most displeased at having to be there; the man, by far the most angry looking, was holding up a sign that said, "Harry Potter."

Jet Jaguar had noticed this too, and so he and Harry went over there to confront the strange family.

The three settled their gazes on him, and Walrus Man (which is what Harry would continue to think of him as no matter what his real name was) barked, "Are you Harry Potter?"

Harry glanced at his robot uncle, who laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Aside from Voldemort's face, and Snape, he'd never seen anyone look at him with such undisguised hatred.

"Yes, but–"

"Then come along boy. The freaks say we have to take you in."

Walrus Man reached for him, but Jet Jaguar immediately stood in his way and grabbed hold of his hand.

"Thanks Uncle. Now, who are you and why would I come with you?"

Walrus Man was turning purple with fury, but wasn't saying anything, so it fell to his wife Horse Woman to say it.

"I am Petunia Dursley, that is my husband Vernon, this is my son Dudley, and you're coming with us because those freaks say that we have to take in my perfect sister's son."

"Wait a minute," Harry looked to his real uncle, the one who brought him to Monster Island. "This is the woman who hated my mom so much that she already hates me?"

Without even loosening his grip on Vernon's arm, Jet Jaguar nodded.

Petunia huffed, "You should be grateful for our generous offer to take you in. It's not our fault that that crackpot of a headmaster wants to force you on us."

So this is Dumbledore's doing, Harry thought.

"Well you can tell the esteemed headmaster that we agree on one thing: we don't like each other. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going with my real uncle back to my real family – the one that loves me. Uncle JJ, I think he's had enough."

Jet Jaguar unceremoniously let go of Vernon, whose sheer weight and the effort he'd been using to try to free himself, drew even more attention as he fell flat on his enormous arse.

Not caring in the least that it was going to draw more attention, both to them and the unfortunate Dursleys, Jet Jaguar grew until he could hold Harry's luggage with one hand and Harry himself in the other. Then he took to the sky.

It was time to go home.

Author's Note: And that's the end of first year. I hope you all noticed and know the difference between "relatives" and "family" in this context. The Dursleys might be connected to Harry by blood, but your family are the people (or even the non-people in this case and in the case of pets) who love you, and that was never the case with the Dursleys.

I think I'm going to take a break from this story for a bit and show my other works some love, but every time I say that I wind up coming back to this one within a day or two, so who knows what I'll do. Regardless of what happens, thank you all for favoriting and reviewing my story, and I will see you all in the next update – and just to make something perfectly clear: this story is not done yet. It will keep going and going through every year until Voldemort is defeated, and then there will be an epilogue. And even when that happens, you might get the occasional update as I go back and correct typos and grammatical errors that I'm just now noticing.