(repost - finished the chapter today. Yesterday I promised my daughter I would post more of the story, so I sent it out without finishing. Oh well now it's done!)

A/N - sorry, darker chapter to an extent. My daughter is now also asking me to write all the other books in the perspectives of other characters. *sigh* Any ideas? Lupin for book 3, for example (She said Sirius, which I might do a combo of both, really, but Lupin has more to him... we'll see), but I have no ideas yet for the others. Again, just for fun to see what comes out of this odd head of mine!

Chapter 3

(two years ago)

Quirinus Quirrell had needed a break. He began to loath his job, as many students thought the subject he taught at Hogwarts was (as they put it) lame. Muggle studies. What a joke. Some students came from muggle parents, but most of the ones he had encountered lately were useless. They didn't study, they didn't do homework, they were disrespectful in class, and they were pushovers generally. Many other students, generally the pureblood brats who mostly came from Slytherin, put the muggle brats in their place any chance they got. That was fine with Quirrell, especially since most of the students regularly made fun of him. Those Slyterins also made fun of him, but he only felt it fair - he felt he was pretty pathetic, too.

After years of teaching Muggle studies, Quirrell was done. He needed to something else, something big. Unfortunately, he had no idea WHAT that "big" thing should be. A friend of his named Charity Burbage suggested he take a sabbatical year and journey throughout the continent to see what inspired him. He knew he could keep to the magical communities when he had to encounter people, but most of the time he could interact with magical creatures instead. Not only that, but he knew of rumors of Lord Voldemort having been in certain places before his rise to fame. Maybe he could locate those places where the Dark Lord found his power and inspirations. For that matter, maybe the Dark Lord was still alive, hiding in one of his secret, remote locations that no one knew of. Quirrell was clever enough that he might just be able to track such locations down, and become powerful himself. The idea fascinated him, so he put in a request for a year off to "find" himself. Headmaster of the school, Albus Dumbledore, was elated to give him such a time of 'self reflection.'

"Quirinus, I will need someone to teach your classes in the meantime. You may need to teach a different subject next year if that is OK," stated Dumbledore.

Quirrell snorted. "I think this sabbatical will let me know more of who I am and who I want to become, so teaching something else will be a welcome change when I return. Do you know what I may be teaching instead?"

"Defense against the dark arts, most likely," chuckled Dumbledore. "You know how hard a time I have to find someone that wants to stick with the class. I think they get nightmares from what they teach, and run away screaming. Fortunately, you have been a wonderful teacher and may be able to face your demons in such a class better than you realize. Things may change, though."

"Very good. I will let you know no later than next May if my plans to return have changed." Quirrell thought for a moment. "Is there something you suspect I'll find in my travels? You seem to not be saying everything you are thinking." What else is new, he thought to himself.

"As always, I have things I suspect from rumors and wispers and ideas that run through my head. After all, I am not a spring chicken and have had time over my years to learn how to guess and guess well!" Dumbledore patted Professor Quirrell on the shoulder. "My dear man, you have many adventures ahead of you. I hope you find yourself to be the man you hope you are as you face them down."

As Professor Quirrell turned to leave, Dumbledore stopped him briefly. "Quirinus, please do remember to take something to cover your head during your travels. I have a feeling you will need it after awhile, especially after visiting Romania. Have fun now, off you go!"

Quirinus Quirrell was happy! While traveling, he could tell stories that were not totally true, but eaten up by the locals - things he did, people he had saved, monsters he had supposedly killed. He listened to their stories as well, which gave him more ideas of what to say in the next town he stopped in. He had decided he was tired of being unimportant where he was, so he kept embellishing his stories the best he could while trying to keep them believable. No such luck sometimes - he forgot to keep his stories straight, and the townsfolk in certain places began to ignore him. Whenever that happened, Quirrell became furious with himself and swore to cause the town to be cursed before he drowned his sorrows in firewhiskey. After a day of recovering from drinking WAY too much alcohol (nothing he would ever recommend to anyone else!), he would move on to the next town.

After a few weeks of traveling, when townsfolk heard of his apparent deeds in other areas, Quirrell began to be asked to get rid of magical pests or dangerous creatures or disturbances that were troubling the town. Once he was asked to get rid of a hag, so he just asked her if she wanted to learn some beauty charms to hide her features - she did, and the people living in the area didn't know any better than a new, beautiful, and talented witch just moved into the area and the hag was never heard from again! The next hag wouldn't hear anything of it, and chased him away with bats... Luckily, Quirrell was able to shake of the experience and continue his journey of helping people and gaining renown. Another time, he was asked to get rid of some trolls. That was easy - they were cousins of his step sister (who happened to be a troll herself), and he asked them to go visit their relatives for a few months before returning. All seemed to be going great for him, even facing bogarts were not that bad. Those unfortunately turned into a version of himself, all in rags and weeping over how aweful of a wizard he was and unable to do anything of worth and no one looked up to him. He learned to beat them, however, by turning them each into the simple-minded Dumbledore who was acting the same as the Quirrell-bogart did. It was so gratifying to see the old fool look that way, so Quirrell left one bogart in a locked cupboard for three weeks just to keep repeating the experience!

His feeling of gain in power and renown was short lived, however. After only traveling for three months, Quirinus Quirrell ran into the worst trouble he could imagine. A nest of vampires had dug themselves into a large cave system just outside Albania, and the locals begged him to rid them of the terrors. If he had been asked just a month before, he would have backed down - his confidence in himself was so low. But since he had so many successful times of ridding people of their problems since, he felt he was becoming a hero. What else would continue that claim to fame but killing an entire nest of vampires? And so he went.

Not until three days later did Quirrell realize that was the worst mistake of his life thus far.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" Anyone within a mile of the cave where the vampires lived in decent comfort would have heard that screech, although they would think it was some dying animal screaming in it's final fears. They would have been wrong, however.

Quirinus Quirrell was doing his best to flee as if his life depended on it, for it did. The head of the vampire clan was furious with him, and had come to collect his head as a warning to anyone else trying to destroy his family. Three of his daughters and one son had already been beheaded by this monster of a human, but the father wouldn't allow one more death in his family if he could help it. Thus, he came out during daylight hours, hunted down the man's campsite, and attacked.

Quirrell, however, had set up a contingency plan just in case things had gone badly. He placed a portkey just outside of his campsite. When he saw the vampire clan father coming for him, it scared the daylights out of Quirrell but he had the sense to run for the portkey. Just before the vampire grabbed him, he touched the ancient chamber pot that was the portkey, which dragged him instantaneously to the town which had asked him to kill the vampires.

When the townsfolk saw Quirrell show up without the heads of the vampire clan, they were quite confused. That is, until they began to realize that the screech they heard was Quirinus Quirrell's, and he had failed. He was mortified at his failure, but moreso at the state of his soiled pants. He hadn't even had enough money in his pockets to pay for a new set of trousers, let alone get the ones he wore clean. For many days after, the pants smelled of pee.

After hiding out for nearly three weeks, Quirrell gathered his courage once more to approach his campsite where all his belongings were. Fortunately for him, the vampires didn't care at all about his things, which were of poor quality as it was. During those three weeks of waiting, though, Quirrell had heard strange rumors about a presence in a forest not too far from the vampire caves. Maybe, just maybe he had found one of the Dark Lord's hideouts where he learned the craft of the dark arts? Perhaps Quirrell himself could use the magic seeped into the place to strengthen his own abilities and his knowledge.

Days and days of searching ended fruitlessly. There was something hiding the magic of the area, but Quirrell knew there was SOMETHING there! On day 13 of searching he found something! He found a dead animal, drained of it's life energy. That could only be done by magic. Quirrell realized he had found other animals every couple days, but had not checked them closely to know whether they had faced the same fate. Each was dead and not eaten, though, which is quite strange for a place in the middle of nowhere with only wild animals around. Was Lord Voldemort still alive, hiding in Albania? Was he draining those animals so he could become even more powerful, more frightening than before? Quirrell decided that he would do anything to find out what was happening. He desired the power the Dark Lord had, and he knew that that powerful wizard, no matter what condition he was in, would be able to teach him as well. He could then become one of the most powerful wizards in the world. No one would dare laugh at him anymore then!

Quirrell's imagination ran wild with the possibilities, but he never really thought about what he would do if he ran into Lord Voldemort. How would he know it was him, anyways? He was said to have died nearly 10 years before, totally destroyed. Was there something else helping him live on? What could it be? What sort of darkness was this amazing wizard able to tap into? How could Quirrell find out if he were not alive, and how could he convince the wizard to let him serve if Voldemort was indeed alive?

After a long month of searching, Quirinus Quirrell found a tree stump that seemed to radiate magic. It was not "white" magic, but as dark as Quirrell had ever felt. It felt to him like old, dried blood and decay.

(rest of the chapter, now written/base-checked)

Quirrell tentatively reached out his hand to the ancient rotting wood in front of him. He desired the power he felt pouring out from it, desired the importance he would feel if he possessed it. Just before he made contact, a jolt of dark magic went through his hand. Before losing consciousness, Quirrell felt the magic fill his entire body and a presence of darkness laughed within his mind.

Slowly, Quirrell came to sense he was not the only one here. Where "here" was, he didn't know - but he was not alone. He did not remember where he was, or what happened, but he knew something was wrong. Very very wrong. Quirrell tried to open his eyes but could not. He tried to move his arms and legs, but he could not do hat either. He tried to speak, but still nothing.

"What a shame, isn't it," a silky voice said. "You not having control of your own self? Would you like me to open your eyes?"

'Yes!" thought Quirrell. "but why are you able to do it, and not me?"

"A very good question, but I don't answer questions usually. I can use you though, so I will put up with it - for now. When you found my hiding place, in your head you were wanting to help me. That opened your mind to me to take over. I now control you. I can give that control back, if I choose to. If and when. As long as I am here, inside you, I have whatever control I want over you. As long as you behave, as long as you help me, I shall let you have yourself back. That will be up to you.

"Who are you?" thought Quirrell. He was scared. There was no magic that he knew of that could do this: have total control of another, to the point of the other not knowing anything about what is going on. He had wanted to find Voldemort, or at least the Dark Lord's magical secrets. Did he succeed? If this was Voldemort that he found, Quirrell know he would do anything to gain the knowledge, the confidence to be looked up to - to be a leader who was respected, not someone to be mocked and ridiculed.

"Tell me," the voice said, "why are you looking for the Dark Lord? What did you hope to find?"

"I am looking for respect. For power." Quirrell was trembling. "I know that there is evidence for him having been here at one point. His magic, his power has left a mark here. I want to know what it is he knew, what he learned of magic. I want to have a hint of the power he had."

"You are not enough to carry such power. You are weak!" The voice cackled long and loud.

"Everyone has always told me that!" yelled Quirrell. "I can't stand the looks I'm given. The derision given me." He mentally stomped his foot in frustration. "I want respect. I want the masses to bow down to my power. But more than that, if I can, I want to follow you, my lord. For you are the Dark Lord, your power could belong to no one else!"

'Very good. As it happens, I am in need of a servant. No matter how minor your abilities may be, they can be made useful to me. Truthfully, it doesn't matter if you are willing. I will use your body and mind either way. The only question is whether you will help me willingly. I can give you all you dream of and more if you are willing to serve me. If you are not, I will use you until you are nothing but a husk to throw away."

"My Lord!" Quirrell was stunned. "I have loved the darker magics since I was a boy. I have desired to serve you for many years, but until recently I did not feel I had anything to offer you except my devotion. Please let me serve you. I will do anything you ask!"

"Your devotion?" Lord Voldemort said. "There is something I can work with. I need your help procuring a body - one of my own. I do not wish to continue borrowing from these minor life forms as I have been."

"It was you, then? I have found dead snakes and rodents and even a fox that were perfectly healthy outside of their minds were destroyed. You are marvelous, my lord! Please, use me as you see fit. I am yours to command."

Soon, Quirrell felt the presence leave his body. In front of him loomed a dark shadow, nearly solid but not quite. The voice in Quirrell's head spoke out of the shadow. "If you serve me faithfully, worm, you shall have all that you desire. You are the first and only one who has searched me out, and for that I will reward you by allowing you to stand at my side when we retake this nation and then the world. My power is currently weak, but it will grow strong with your help. Do not fear, I will guide you. But if you disobey me or fail, you will be punished."

After a month of searching for magical items and potions for his master, Quirrell was told they were ready to leave Albania and return to England. Only there, stated Lord Voldemort, could he get what he needed to gain a body again. Quirrell knew the process would take a long time, but he was determined to win the praise of his master. Soon he would return to teach at Hogwarts, and the forest there held many magical creatures that would be put to great use for his master. As the Dark Lord gained strength, his magic would return as well. Maybe soon they would be able to get the ingredients needed for the spell to return Lord Voldemort to a true human form. Quirinus Quirrell was willing to do whatever he could to gain the Dark Lord's favor and blessings. For now, unicorn blood would be the best food for his master, as it would keep him alive and help him become stronger. For now, they would have to lay low as Quirrell researched what could be done to return his master to glory. There had to be something he could find at Hogwarts, or at least in the library there.

Quirrell sent a letter by owl to Professor Dumbledore, accepting the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, if it were still open for the next year. In the letter he wrote, "I feel like the position has been waiting for me to come along and take it, to shape the program for our students. Some may think the job is cursed, but I see it as a challenge - a challenge to grow and become more than I have been before."

A/N wow, over 3000 words? That's unheard of for me! WOOT! I'm getting much better at this. :) Please review, let me know what to change, what to grow, what you'd like to see. :) Again, this is my first fanfic and first story since I was in school 12 years ago. I'm excited to get some of my daydreams down on figurative paper. ;)