Disclaimer: not mine

Chapter 4

"Merry Christmas Harry!"

He blinked blearily at Cedric who laughed and ruffled his hair. The third year was one of the few other Puffs who had stayed for the holidays. "Merry Christmas," Harry grabbed his glasses and then stared at the mound of gifts at the end of his bed. "What?"

He didn't see Cedric's frown as the older boy saw his reaction. "Those are your presents," he explained, sitting on the bed beside Harry's with his own sack of gifts. "Go on, open them."

Harry hesitantly opened one from Hermione, laughing when he found a book on Defence, of course she'd gotten him a book! The gifts were small but meant the world to him. He was surprised by Draco's present though, a history book. He opened and his jaw dropped in shock.

"Harry?" Cedric called from where he was opening his own presents.

"It's…it's my family," he whispered. There were two whole chapter on the Potter family!

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"Of course, the Potter's have been very involved in Magical Britain for…" Cedric trailed off at the lost look on Harry's face. "You know all about it, don't you?"

Harry shook his head. "My Aunt and Uncle are Muggles, they knew about magic but they don't like it. I didn't know anything until Hagrid came to take me to Diagon Alley."

Cedric barely kept his jaw from dropping. What?! That was just…wrong. He didn't read the Harry Potter books but he knew Luna and Ginny did, the twins teased their sister about crushing on the Boy-Who-Lived…who was nothing like the real Harry. Harry Potter was raised by muggles, so they had to be Lily Potter's relatives, no one in the Wizarding World knew that and if they did they wouldn't be happy. Harry was the Potter heir, he should have been raised as such. Those relatives not liking magic and how quiet Harry was had him worried too.

He pushed those thoughts away for now, it was Christmas Day.

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"What's this?" Harry picked up a package and read the card. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the words: Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you. There was no signature. Harry stared at the note in confusion.

"Harry?"

"The note says it was my Dad's," he opened the parcel, something fluid and silvery grey went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds.

Cedric stared. "I've heard of those, if that's what I think it is, they're really rare, and really valuable."

"What is it?" Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak, try it on," the older boy told him so Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Cedric nodded, eyes wide. "It is, look down!"

Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone. He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in mid-air, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?

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Albus frowned, checking the tracking charm again. The new term had started and still Harry hadn't gone exploring with the cloak. Getting spells to stick to it had not been easy, if not for the Elder Wand he wouldn't have managed at all. Where was the boy's curiosity? He needed him to find the Mirror so that he could be nudged along into confronting Voldemort when he made his move on the Stone.

The boy's group of friends had expanded again to include young Neville, which was a relief in some ways, another Gryffindor would be a good influence, although the boy was extremely timid, but it could be disastrous should Neville find a way to introduce Harry to the formidable Augusta. There was a similar worry due to his friendship with young Susan Bones, except her Aunt could cause issues as the Head of the DMLE. Young Malfoy was the oddest addition to the group but if they could keep the boy in the Light rather than following his Father then that would be good. He just had too many children in the group who could get in the way of plans to keep Harry ignorant of his family, rights, wealth…all things that would make him less likely to sacrifice himself.

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"Severus."

"Lucius," he returned, taking the offered seat and brandy.

"I was surprised when Draco asked to remain over the holidays," Lucius began, and Severus nodded.

"Yes, he has remained due to his study group, most of whom remained unless their families were travelling overseas."

"And just who is in this group? Draco has been rather quiet on that." Lucius stared at him.

"The 'leader', if you will, is Harry Potter. The group is mainly Hufflepuff students, with two Gryffindors, and Draco. Thus, it is a mix of blood status."

"Harry Potter?" Lucius was definitely interested, how could he not be? Harry Potter was the talk of the Wizarding World even months after his return to their world, especially as parents shared what their children told them of the boy.

"He is…not what I expected," Severus admitted.

"Oh? How so?"

Severus began explaining everything he had observed and heard from other staff and students.

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Draco paused as he saw the two Puffs and one Gryffindor sitting at the table, waiting for him. He wasn't sure why they had asked him to join them without everyone else but of all the group he thought them the least likely to start something. Of course, just as he sat an older student joined them, one he recognised from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, Cedric Diggory.

"We need to talk about Harry," was how the older boy chose to begin.

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For Harry, the term was going peacefully, he was completely unaware of the plotting going on, on his behalf. The only oddity was Professor Quirrell, something about him repulsed Harry and yet…seemed to call to the parts of him that always saw the other black haired boy with golden eyes. Unsure why the man made him feel such conflicting things he decided to ensure he was never alone with the stuttering Professor.

He had to admit, his opinion of two of his core teachers was not at all good between him and Binns. And Hogwarts was meant to be a premier school?

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Riku watched Kairi and Sora as they ran laughing across the beach and…it hurt. It felt like he was being left behind. At first things hadn't changed, she'd just been included but now Sora paid more and more attention to her. It wasn't fair, they'd always been friends, yes there were others but they'd never been as close as he and Sora were. Now…Kairi was taking him place.

He turned away, ducking into the Secret Place, aimlessly scribbling on the wall, glancing over at the strange door. After a while he left and went to his boat, heading back to the main island, glad that at nine (the others were only eight) he had his own boat now and was trusted to travel between the two islands.

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Harry groaned and sat up, looking around in confusion, where was he? He heard muttering nearby and looked over, frowning. Professor Quirrell was standing in front of an ornate mirror and they were in a circular room, a wall of flame at one end. How had he gotten there? The last thing he remembered was… the Defence exam.

Where was everyone else? What had happened? He scrambled to his feet, looking for his wand but it was missing.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone," Quirrell suddenly spoke up, turning to watch him.

"You let the troll in?" he demanded angrily, they could have died because of that thing!

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off, and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly," he complained. "Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.

Harry examined the mirror the Professor was standing in front of, spotting an inscription carved into its golden frame - Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. It took him a few minutes to realise it was written backwards - I show not your face but your heart's desire.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror, although was it really the key to getting whatever stone he was looking for if it only showed your desire?

"Why are you doing this?"

"You really are ignorant?" he asked idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. Quirrell moved back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. "I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my Master... but where is it?"

"Your Master?" Harry asked warily. He didn't have his wand but that didn't mean he couldn't use magic, he'd just never tried it against someone with a wand before and that had him worried. "I heard you a few days ago, sobbing…was your Master threatening you?"

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face. "Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions, he is a great wizard and I am weak…"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry asked, he had a sinking feeling he knew who he meant, but that wasn't possible, was it? Everyone said Voldemort had been killed that night.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me," Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..." Quirrell's voice trailed away.

Harry remembered his trip to Diagon Alley, how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron when Hagrid had quietly introduced them since Harry had asked him not to get attention from the public.

Quirrell cursed under his breath. "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind was racing, he didn't know what the stone was, but letting Quirrell get it was not an option. 'What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment', he thought, 'is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it, which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?'

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the man was moving around too much himself, blocking his every attempt without even meaning too.

Quirrell ignored him, he was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. "Use the boy... Use the boy..."

Quirrell rounded on Harry. "Yes, Potter, come here."

Harry didn't move an inch.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry took a deep breath, half a step, and threw a fire spell at him before dropping and rolling away from where he'd been standing in case the man retaliated. He came up to his feet to see Quirrell fighting with his burning turban and glanced at the wall of flame…the only way out of the room. That was the most powerful spell he'd ever used, there was no way he could manage a blizzard spell on those flames so he needed another way out.

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted a bit shrilly, struggling to put the fire out...another voice hissing in anger.

The high voice spoke again as the fire was put out. "Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this..."

Harry watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap the ruined turban, he really didn't want to see what…or who was under it. The turban fell away, Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. It was somehow worse than anything he'd ever seen in the dreams.

"Harry Potter..." it whispered. "See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor ... 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 weeks... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you come here?"

"No," Harry stated as firmly as he could, taking a step back. Maybe he should take his chances with the flames? The wall wasn't wide, if he leapt through they shouldn't catch his clothes, hopefully.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry snarled at him.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling. "How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now help me gain the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain. Do this for Lord Voldemort and I shall reward you handsomely, perhaps…even your parents returned?" he suggested.

Harry froze, eyes going wide. Was that possible? No…everything in him screamed that not even magic could bring them back to him. And even if it could, his parents in exchange for how many who would die in a new war? "NEVER!"

Harry leapt toward the flame wall, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist.

Harry yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. He looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers…they were blistering before his eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck, making him choke, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him, my hands…my hands!" And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms, Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face. "AAAARGH!" Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain.

His only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from casting a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off, but Harry was latched on like a leech, eyes clenched tight against the sight of burning skin and that horrible face. He felt sick, his scar was starting to burn, but he forced himself to ignore it. He could hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down ... down... down...

He fell, feeling water around him, sinking deeper and deeper until he landed on something, throwing his hands up to protect his face as the darkness below his feet started to transform into birds which flew up and away, showing a radiant light that slowly formed into a circle.

Harry stared down in shock, he knew this! From the dreams except now it was happening to him. As the circular platform formed he saw an image of himself in a plain black robe, asleep, a wand in one hand and the other one empty, fingers curled as if holding something but nothing was there. Along the edge of the platform was a ring of emblems, alternating between crossed wands, and the marks he'd seen on the platform that had held both the dream boys. There were several images above his sleeping head, a different one in each smaller circle. Each of the boys from his dreams were in their own circle which were the ones closest to his head. Hogwarts castle was in another, small images in front of it that he just knew where his school friends. In another was a couple he had only seen in pictures…his parents.

Harry hesitantly walked across the glass, his footsteps echoing slightly. He crouched down and touched the image of the lighter haired boy, gasping, eyes going wide as a name suddenly appeared in his mind…Ventus. He took a shaky breath and touched the other, Vanitas.

A light shined down from above as a large stone pedestal rose from the platform in a shower of light and magic. Harry turned warily towards it as a crimson shield blinked into existence, floating above it.

"Power sleeps within you..."

Another pedestal rose from the platform, an intricate wand floating above it.

"If you give it form..." a second voice spoke, both were male.

A third pedestal appeared in front of Harry, who turned toward it. A metal sword appeared in mid-air.

"It will give you strength."

Harry stared at all three, wary of a voice he didn't know and yet…it felt almost familiar, trustworthy.

"Choose well," they said in unison.

Harry's first instinct was to take the wand, he was a wizard after all…but he already had magic. He went and carefully picked up the crimson shield with a phoenix on the front of it.

"The power of the guardian. Kindness to aid friends. A shield to repel all. Is this the power you seek?"

Harry stared at it and smiled, wasn't that why he'd chosen Hufflepuff? "Yes," he whispered and the shield vanished from his hand.

"Your path is set. Now, what will you give up in exchange?"

Harry hesitated, torn between the two but then walked towards the sword and picked it up.

"The power of the warrior. Invincible courage. A sword of terrible destruction. You give up this power?" it was the second voice again.

Hearing that description made his decision easy. "Yes." Like the shield it vanished.

"You've chosen the power of the guardian. You've given up the power of the warrior. Is this the form you choose?"

"Yes," it felt right.

The three stones suddenly sank back into the floor, knocking him backwards until he was sprawled on the ground.

"You gained the power to fight. Use this power to protect yourself and others."

Shadow creatures appeared around him and Harry felt the shield appear on his arm.

"There will be times you have to fight. Keep your light burning strong."

Great. He lifted the shield and slammed it into the first one, watching it fade away. Okay, he could do it. it took some work, but he defeated them all and then floating images appeared in front of him as well as a door.

"The door won't open just yet. First, tell me more about yourself. What's most important to you?"

Harry stared at the three images, somehow knowing what they represented – being number one, friendship, and his prize possession. "Friendship," he answered, looking at the image of him with his friends, the others fading away.

"What do you want out of life?"

Harry considered the three options, wondering why he was being asked, what was the point behind everything that was happening? The choice was harder this time – to see rare sights, to broaden his horizons, or to be strong. He honestly wasn't sure which one was more important to him. Choosing friendship was easy. "To broaden my horizons," he finally answered. Strength wasn't always important, no matter what others might say. But learning and finding out new things, that was a good goal.

"What are you so afraid of?" the second voice asked.

The answers available made him thing – to die, getting old, or being different. He thought everyone was afraid of dying to some extent but was it his biggest fear. "Being different," he finally answered. He hated the fame of being 'the boy-who-lived' after all.

"You want friendship. You want to broaden your horizons. You're afraid of being different. Your road won't be easy, but a rising sun awaits your journey's end."

"The closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes," the second voice spoke again.

"But don't be afraid. And don't forget..."

Harry gasped as a void of darkness appeared beneath him, sucking him in.

"But don't be afraid," the second almost mocked the first even as the darkness moved up Harry's legs, pulling him deeper.

"You hold the mightiest weapon of all."

He tried to swim away as the darkness held onto him. His grasping hand was lost to the black abyss.

"So don't forget..."

Harry lay on his back as the darkness wraps its last threads around his frightened eyes.

"We're with you," they whispered in unison as everything went black.

TBC…