Sorry, but I got lost on the path of life, as Kakashi would say. Here is the next chapter. Thank you for your kind reviews. This chapter and probably the ones after it, will be quite fast paced, this is necessary so that Voldemort gets his body back and can really start working on his plans.

Without further ado:

Winter was slowly coming for Hogwarts. The corridors got draughtier, in the mornings the grass outside glittered with frost and the House Elves took great pain in keeping all the fires burning. Hogwarts in winter had always enchanted Lord Voldemort, since he had been a student himself. The castle, glittering with ice and snow in the blinding winter sun had always appeared like something out of a fairy tail to him. Also, it had been the time of the year where the others had preferred the warmth of their common rooms to the biting winds of the grounds or even the chill of the corridors. Thus, winter had been the time when the young Slytherin Tom Riddle could wander the halls and grounds without meeting anyone. He was all alone and took great comfort in his solitude, only him and Hogwarts, boy and castle linked by the noble blood of Salazar Slytherin. Naturally, he would like to wander for hours again, lose himself in all the nooks and crannies his only real home had to offer. Sadly, it was not to be. There was still much to do before his resurrection and he could not afford to spent his time in idle reminiscence. But oh the longing... it had been too long. Of course the last time did not count, it had been spring and the Battle of Hogwarts had waged. His beloved castle was in ruins and he could not appreciate anything, too consumed by his fear of an impending death, too crazed in his blood lust. The last time he had leisurely wandered the castle and grounds for hours and hours had been in the winter of his last year at Hogwarts. He had been Head Boy and free to be out and about even after curfew, he was a model student after all, the hero who caught the one who had killed the girl in the bathroom.

One particular day came to mind. It had been December then and overnight the world had been put under a thick blanket of snow. He had woken all alone in his dorm, the other boys had all gone home to celebrate Yule, when the light of the rising sun had pierced the frozen lake. The shattered light had illuminated the dorm in all the colours of the rainbow and Tom Riddle had been mesmerized. All his plans for the day had been left abandoned. He did not practice one spell, did not read one book and did not brew one potion. Instead he pulled on three of the grey and frayed sweaters from the orphanage and went outside. He circled the frozen lake twice, went down the road to the school gates and back up again, walked to the Quidditch pitch and trekked up to the Owlery and the Astronomy Tower, where the wind blew so harshly that he feared that he would be swept away if he jumped. Finally, when the sun began to set and the Thestrals, who had wandered beside him through the snow covering the ground of the Forbidden Forest, went so far in that even he was reluctant to follow them, Tom Riddle returned to the castle. His customary impeccable appearance must have been destroyed: his cheeks and nose were red, his normally neatly combed hair tousled by the wind and sprinkled with snowflakes. But he did not care then. He did not care that he did not further his goals this day or that the image he crafted for himself ever since he sat foot into Hogwarts would have been destroyed, had he happened upon another person. This day had been for him and Voldemort swore now that he would return when he had a body of his own to see the castle as it had been back then.

But in order to make that happen, he had to make Dumbledore take one other step prematurely. Therefore, Quirrel stood before the Gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office one week before winter break, letting the Gargoyle jump aside and stepping onto the moving staircase.

"Ah, Quirinius, come in, come in."

"H-h-headmaster."

"Sit, sit. Do you care for a sherbet lemon?"

"N-n-no. Thank y-y-you."

"What can I do for you then?", Dumbledore regarded his stuttering Professor over his half-moon shaped glasses, suspicious but without proof.

"i j-j-just wanted t-t-to inform y-y-you that I w-w-will be l-l-leaving the c-c-castle over the h-h-holidays. M-m-my Aunt r-r-requests my p-p-presence."

Dumbledore chuckled: "Requests? Sounds like a formidable lady. Are you sure that you do not want to spend the festivities at Hogwarts?"

"I f-f-feel obliged t-t-to visit h-h-her, I'm a-a-afraid. She is v-v-very old, you s-s-see, and h-h-her health h-h-has not b-b-been the best r-r-recently."

"I completely understand, Quirinius. Christmas is after all the time we should endeavour to spend with our family. When do you intend to leave then?"

"I w-w-was thinking the l-l-last day o-o-of term, d-d-directly after c-c-classes."

"This should not be a problem. Shall I open the Floo Network for you?"

"Th-th-thank you b-b-but I p-p-prefer to apparate."

"Very well. If this is all?"

"Y-y-yes headmaster."

While it was not uncommon for Professors to spend the holidays away from the castle, Quirrel's intended absence would take Dumbledore by surprise. He was the prime suspect for attempted theft of the stone after all. There was a sick, old aunt but Quirrel would not be visiting her. No, he would finally help Voldemort gaining a new body for himself. But if Voldemort's plans were to proceed without a hitch, the pressure on Dumbledore had to be increased. This sudden and uncharacteristic absence from the castle should make Dumbledore wary. Hopefully wary enough to move a certain mirror early.

When Peter, James and Sirius had become Animagi, Prongs and Padfoot had a good laugh about his animal. Rats were, after all, not the most useful animals for keeping a werewolf in check. Too small. What if Moony accidentally swallows you? What if Prongs steps on you? Then there were the negative connotations associated with rats. Filthy. Disease carrying. Traitorous. Well... there was that. But his Animagus form was what enabled him to survive Sirius' attempted revenge and possible angry Death Eaters, who thought that he led their master to his downfall on purpose. First he had lived with other rats until he found a wizarding family to take him in. He was fed, cared for and always looking out for news on either his erstwhile friend or his master. Quite clever actually. Then he had snapped out of the Imperius curse only to be tortured by the stuttering fool who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts for this year. Only it had been his Lord. His Lord was back, or as good as, and possessed the Defence Professor.

He was lucky in a sense. Only one round of the Cruciatus when he still vividly remembered a time when the Dark Lord had thrown the Unforgivable around like Leprechauns did gold. And as long as he would perform according to his Lord's expectations, he would remain under the Dark Lord's protection. This was his best bet at survival now. And yet his first task deeply unsettled him. It wasn't particularly difficult or dangerous, but as the rat stopped before the little cottage with half the roof missing he wished that he were anywhere but where he was now.

James... Lily... They had been his friends and he had led death into their home. Sometimes he told himself that he had done it to end the war, only three more deaths and the Dark Lord would have won. The truth was much simpler: he had been afraid. Afraid of being on the losing side and he had been prepared to sacrifice his friends to ensure his own survival.

The rat scurried through the hall. James had died here. James who had chased the bullies away, James who had mocked his performance in class.

Up the stairs he went. He knew the house well, had been a frequent guest after all.

The nursery. Lily had died here. Lily who had been kind, Lily who had always looked at him with pity.

He transformed back into a man. Moonlight fell through the blasted roof, illuminating the crib in which little Harry had survived. Peter wanted to cry. Wanted to beg for forgiveness and wanted to go back to when they had all been at Hogwarts, young and save and innocent. But he had made his choice. And while Lily and James had to die for it, he had to live with it.

Nervously his eyes darted around the room. It was still the same as it had been ten years ago, persevered by magic. He noticed a little stuffed dragon on a shelf, he had given it for little Harry's first birthday. He wanted to leave.

"Err... I am here to retrieve the Dark Lord's wand.", he felt stupid but his Lord had told him that the wand would revel itself if he felt someone with the intention of reuniting it with his master approaching, that it would have concealed itself because it was only loyal to its master.

Then a beam of moonlight fell in front of the crib and there it was. Thirteen and a half inches and bone white. The wand that struck fear into the hearts of men and women. Almost as much fear as its master.

Carefully, Peter shuffled closer and reached for it. The wand felt cold, freezing cold in his fingers. He could nearly feel the wand's disgust and unwillingness, he doubted that he could manage to cast a spell with it, sooner the wand would harm him. Peter shuddered. A terrifying wand for a terrifying wizard. Time to leave, the Dark Lord was waiting for his wand.

It was the last day of class before the Christmas holidays and mentally Harry was already outside, having a snowball fight with Ron, Fred and George. Alas, before he could leave the stuffy classroom for real, he had to sit through one last Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He should be reading and summarizing the chapter in his book on minor hexes, like the one they had practised last time but Harry found that he vastly preferred practical lessons over theoretical ones. That was why Hermione glared at him and Ron disapprovingly, while the two boys played tic-tac-toe on a piece of parchment. Not that Quirrel would notice, the man seemed to be fully engrossed with the papers on his desk.

"Harry. Ron.", Hermione hissed.

"What?", his red-headed friend hissed back.

"You should read the chapter in the book."

"Hermione, it's almost Christmas, and look nobody except you is doing anything."

Ron was right. Neville was dreamily staring into space, Seamus and Dean were swapping Chocolate Frog Cards under their table and Pavarti and Lavander were whispering and giggling. Hermione glared at them all and took a deep breath, no doubt to start lecturing Ron and Harry on why they should take their work more serious when the door to the classroom was thrown open and banged against the wall.

Black cloak billowing, Snape strode in with a look on his face as if Neville had melted another cauldron. His black eyes bore into Quirrel, who had jumped slightly in his chair and was now rapidly paling under Snape's unforgiving stare. Harry could really commiserate with him.

"S-s-severus..."

"We need to talk, now. Class dismissed."

Not one student waited for Quirrel's approval. Books, quills and parchments were hastily stuffed into bags and everybody practically ran for the door. Snape stalked threateningly towards Quirrel and despite Ron's quiet protest Harry started to loiter around, packing his back with excruciating slowness. What had Snape in such an angry mood? He looked murderous and Harry felt pity for poor Quirrel. Was he save? Could he be left alone with the Potion's Professor? Harry strained his ears in order to pick up pieces of Snape's furious whispering.

"It's gone... still there yesterday... where is it... don't want me as your enemy..."

Suddenly, Snape grabbed Quirrel by the throat, lifted his wand and intoned darkly: "Legilimens!"

Quirrel's eyes were wide and glazed over, his mouth opened in a silent scream. Abruptly Snape let go of Quirrel who fell against his desk and gasped: "T-t-told you... w-w-was teaching a-a-all day... n-n-nothing to d-d-do with..."

"Silence!", Snape barked, "If what you say and what I have seen is true you surely won't object to a search of your chambers."

"O-o-of course n-n-not, I h-h-have nothing t-t-to hide..."

"We'll see.", the greasy haired man concluded silkily and whirled around.

"Potter! Weasley! What are you still doing here? Ten points from Gryffindor from each of you and now get out!"

Both boys raced out, terrified. They only stopped to gasp for breath when they had managed to get one floor between themselves and Snape.

"Blimey, what was that all about?", Ron inquired.

"I have no idea, but it sounded like Snape was threatening Quirrel."

"Yeah, I figured that out for myself."

The two friends remained silent for a long moment, trying to make sense of what had occurred in the Defence classroom.

"D'you reckon he is okay?", Ron finally asked, "Quirrel, I mean."

Was he? Snape had looked murderous. And what did he say? Something was gone and Quirrel said that he had nothing to do with it.

"I don't know, Ron. What was this spell Snape used?"

"I have no idea, Legi-, Legi- something. Maybe Hermione knows."

"Right, look let's find Hermione and tell her. Maybe she has any idea at all."

While Quirrel had been indeed teaching classes all morning, one rat had entered the forbidden third floor corridor only armed with the Professor's wand and a piece of parchment containing instructions written by his Lord.

The deeper Peter entered into the dungeons, the more convinced he became that his Lord was a genius. He had correctly anticipated every single obstacle and given precise orders on how to circumvent them.

He had put the three headed dog to sleep and used fire against the Devil's Snare. He had used the advanced Summoning spell the Dark Lord had written down, even though he needed several tries to get it right, to get the correct key and advance to the next room. He had beaten the giant chess set -how on earth did the Dark Lord even know which moves to use and how the enchanted pieces would counter?-, and he had knocked out the troll with his own club. Snivellus' riddle had not been a problem, he had simply grabbed the bottle his Lord had noted down and went through the flames.

The last room was empty, except for a giant claw-footed mirror standing in the middle. Peter glanced down at the parchment.

If the mirror is there, stand in front of it and wish to find the stone.

The stone. Peter had no idea what stone only that he had to find it. Find it and bring it to his Lord. He stood in front of the mirror and saw nothing except his own reflection staring back at him. Slowly shapes began to form in the background, with a squeak he jumped around but there was nothing. Meanwhile the shapes in the mirror took form, humans, three men and one woman. Slowly they became clearer. When Peter recognised them he screamed.

James, Lily, Sirius and Remus stood at his side and they were all smiling and laughing with his own grinning self.

No, no, no.

The room remained empty but the James in the mirror slung one arm around Peter's shoulder, while Sirius flicked his hair back and Remus sniggered. Lily watched them with a smile on her sweet face.

No, no, no. Stop. It hurt. It hurt to see his friends, it hurt to see them happy and alive, laughing and joking with him. He wanted it to stop. He just wanted to find the blasted stone and get out of here.

The image in the mirror changed and his reflection stood alone again. It winked at him and put one hand into its pocket. When the reflection pulled it out, it had a red stone in its hand. It grinned and put the stone back into the pocket.

Peter froze. He could feel a weight in his own pocket. His real pocket. Witch a shaking hand he reached inside and pulled out the red stone he had seen in the mirror. It was coloured like a ruby and roughly the size of his palm. This had to be the stone his Lord had wanted him to find. Well, he did. Now he could leave, leave this mirror and the haunting images behind him. He would leave the castle immediately and go to the place the Dark Lord had told him about. A muggle village. There he would wait for the Dark Lord. Peter turned around. He did not dare to look into the mirror again.

In a quiet corner in the Gryffindor common room three friends sat after dinner to discuss, yet again, the events of today's DADA class. When Ron and Harry had found Hermione after class and told her about what happened she had been as confused as the boys.

"I never heard of this spell either."

Ron had paled: "What if it's something really dark and forbidden?"

Hermione had bitten her lip, "I don't think so... look I mean Snape is a teacher..."

"But,", Harry had interjected, "he was threatening Quirrel and you didn't see him. It was scary."

Ron had nodded his head emphatically. They kept their discussion going throughout the rest of the day, without coming to any conclusion. When dinner rolled around the news had spread and everybody was whispering and throwing glances at Snape's and Quirrel's empty seats.

Back in the common room speculations were still going strong but when Fred and George started one of Dr. Filibuster's enchanted firecrackers, most students decided that they would rather celebrate the start of the holidays than speculate about Snape and Quirrel.

There was a lull in their conversation and Harry was watching Percy trying to stop the twins from causing more mayhem, when Ron suddenly exclaimed: "Maybe Snape offed him and that's why he hasn't been at dinner."

"Ron!", Hermione exclaimed scandalized.

Ron only grinned. "Aw, come on he did. And then he chopped him up and used his body parts for potion ingredients."

Harry laughed. Hermione tried not to and failed.

"You are unbelievable, Ronald."

He mock bowed. "Thank you."

Later, while Harry and Ron played a game of chess and Hermione sat reading by the fire, Harry resolved that he'd better stay out of whatever transpired between Quirrel and Snape. Snape already hated him enough. And if Snape had really cut him up and used in his potions they wouldn't find him anyway.

Quirinius Quirrel was glad. Glad that his Lord had protected his mind with false images when Snape had attacked, glad that he had nothing incriminating in his chambers and glad that Dumbledore seemed to consider the possibility that someone from outside the castle had entered and potentially stolen the stone. Most of all he was glad that he could leave. The plan was clear. He would meet Wormtail, who had the stone and then, under the Dark Lord's supervision, would brew a potion and prepare a ritual. He was intrigued. It sounded like nothing he had ever even heard of before and he was a Ravenclaw. If all went according to plan, the Dark Lord would rise again in his own body. And Quirrel's would be his own again.

Naturally, he was afraid. Although the Dark Lord had never said so, but Quirrel suspected that he might die when his master would leave his body. But he had no choice, it wasn't like he could run and if he survived... He would learn magic from the Dark Lord himself. Magic he could only dream about. It was worth the risk.

When he had left Hogwarts behind him and entered the road leading down to Hogsmead, he felt his master take control of his body and with a crack they apparated. He came to, standing before a muggle house, which had been long ago perhaps been stately and grand. Now ivy snaked up the facade and the doors and windows were barred with wooden planks. The walls were of a dull grey colour and the grass and hedges were overgrown.

"Welcome, Quirinius.", the Dark Lord said amused, "Welcome to my father's house."