Author's Note: Yes, my fingers still hurt terribly from all the typing I've done today, but I love you guys too much so here is the new chapter.

Again, apologies for it being very similar to the scene from the book. I tried to combine it with the book and the movie versions and a bit of my own stuff in there, but yeah, when you go canon, you gotta go canon.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all rights belong to J.K Rowling. I am simply having fun with my imagination. Thanks

...Don't worry, the stone will arrive soon," Tom assured him, "Along with the boy. He is on his way. I can feel it."

And tonight, Tom hastened to add, he would rise back to power.

After 10 dreadfully long years...

CHAPTER 31: HARRY POTTER

The minutes ticked away into the silence as Quirrell walked round and round the mirror, looking desperately for some kind of a key or a clue.

"Have you sent him away?" Tom hissed as they waited.

"Yes, master," replied Quirrell. "He is off in London now…won't be back for hours and by that time, we shall be gone already."

"Good," said Tom. "Very good. The plan is working."

"Indeed it is, master," said Quirrell, who now stopped in front of the mirror and stared at it. "When is the boy coming?"

"Soon!" cried Tom. "Patience, Quirrell, patience! He has many obstacles to go through before he reaches me."

"I want the stone," muttered Quirrell.

"I hope you're not forgetting who the stone is for, Quirrell," said Tom, boldly.

"Of course not, master!" cried Quirrell in protest. "I wouldn't dream of it!"

"I believe you," lied Tom.

But he had no time to waste now, worrying about where indeed Quirrell's loyalties lay. At this very moment, Harry Potter was headed towards him. He would be able to meet him at last, for the first time since that night all those years ago. This was his once chance to achieve revenge for all the damage this boy had caused. He would not let this chance fail him. He would not allow it.

"I hear him coming!" hissed Quirrell. "I hear him, master, I hear him!"

"Patience!" ordered Tom. "Keep your cool—the boy has been suspecting Snape this entire time. You need to explain it all to him first, if you want him to cooperate."

"Yes, master," muttered Quirrell. "But you never told me that the boy—"

"Focus, fool!" hissed Tom, and Quirrell quickly fell silent.

Tom heard footsteps in the distance. He was nearing. Ah, the moment Tom had been waiting for, for ten painful years. The moment was here at last.

"You!" cried the voice of Harry Potter.

Quirrell turned around to face him.

"Me," he said, in a very different voice than before. Quirrell had obviously taken control of the situation. "I wondered when you'd be coming here, Potter."

"But," said the boy, who sounded as though he was lost for words, "But I thought…Snape…"

"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he?" said Quirrell, bitterly. "So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat."

"Easy!" Tom hissed, who was growing annoyed with Quirrell's constant bashing on Severus.

So far, Severus was the only one of his Death Eaters whom Tom had recognized to have not changed one bit. He was a very good actor and Tom knew he would return to him as soon as Lord Voldemort would rise again. When that time came, hopefully tonight, Tom would be sure to reward Severus.

"Next to him," continued Quirrell, "Who would suspect p-p-p-p-poor s-s-s-s-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"

Oh great, now it had all gotten personal for Quirrell. He was too involved in the situation. It all would have worked out better if I'd had someone more equipped for the job, thought Tom.

"But Snape tried to kill me!" the boy protested.

"No, my dear boy, I tried to kill you!" cried Quirrell, angrily. "And trust me, if I hadn't broken eye contact, I would have succeeded! Yes, even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse."

"Snape was trying to…save me?" said the boy.

"Of course!" laughed Quirrell. "Funny really, he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching me anyway. But what a waste of time it all was, for I am going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers and Tom watched through the turban as the mirror's reflection showed ropes binding the Potter boy so that he could not move. He struggled for a moment but they were wrapped tightly around him.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter," Quirrell added with a sneer.

"It was you!" cried the boy. "You let the troll in!"

"Very good, Potter, yes," said Quirrell. "Snape unfortunately wasn't fooled. While everyone was running about the dungeon, he went to the third floor to head me off." He paused. "He of course never trusted me again. He rarely left me alone. But he doesn't understand. I'm never alone. Never."

Normally, this would have cracked a smile on Tom's face but he was too focused tonight. . . too eager—too intent on settling this, once and for all.

"Now," said Quirrell, who also seemed to have gotten serious, "What does this mirror do exactly?"

"It is the Mirror of Erised," Tom whispered in his ears. He remembered for he had seen it in the Room of Requirement back in his Hogwarts days.

"I see what I desire," said Quirrell, "I see myself holding the stone. But…how do I get it? Master, help me! How do I get it?!"

"Use the boy!" Tom hissed. He thought it would have been obvious.

With another snap of Quirrell's fingers, the ropes freed Potter who stumbled backwards a little and let out a small gasp.

"COME HERE, POTTER, NOW!" shouted Quirrell.

Terrified looking, the boy slowly made his way across the chamber until he was standing right next to Quirrell. Quirrell pointed him to the mirror.

"Tell me, what do you see?" he said, quietly.

A moment passed. Tom waited. Harry Potter was too close to him now. He only wished he had a body of his own so he could strangle the boy to death. He had grown so detached from his wand after years and years of its absence, that he didn't think it would suffice now.

"What is it, what do you see?!" cried Quirrell, impatiently.

"I…I s-see myself shaking hands with Professor Dumbledore," said the boy. "I've…won the house cup."

"He lies!" hissed Tom. His voice echoed throughout the chamber, frightening the boy slightly.

"TELL THE TRUTH! WHAT DO YOU SEE?!" bellowed Quirrell.

"Let me speak to him," instructed Tom, who was growing more eager by the second.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell pointed out.

If Tom had a body of his own, he knew his heart would be pounding against his chest hard and there would be sweat all over him. But this was the moment at last. He was not going to let it slip by him.

"I have strength enough for this," he whispered, and with that, Quirrell began to unwrap the turban.

The first thing that Tom saw once his face was freed was his own reflection in the mirror—the chalk-white face, the bulging red eyes, and the slits for a snakelike nose. But then, quite suddenly, he spotted the boy. The boy was staring at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. Tom smiled.

"Harry Potter," he said, in a low voice. "We meet again."

"Voldemort," said the boy in a frightened voice.

"Yes," said Tom, "You see what I've become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another and be a parasite… unicorn blood can sustain me, yes, but it cannot give me a body of my own." He paused. "But there is something that can—something that conveniently enough lies in your pocket."

It was as though something had hit the boy hard from the back for he turned around abruptly and made a run for it.

"Stop him!" cried Tom, and Quirrell snapped his fingers again.

Red flames burst out of every corner, blocking the boy's exit. Tom laughed his high, cold laugh. It sent a shiver down Quirrell's spine. Tom felt it.

"Don't be a fool," he said to the boy now, "Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?"

"Never!" cried the boy.

Tom laughed again.

"Bravery," he said, "Your parents had it too. Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again?" The boy stared at him in shock. He could almost see the belief spreading across the innocent, naïve face. "I killed your father first and he put up a courageous fight. You are very much like him, Harry. But your mother…she needn't have died. In fact, she was trying to protect you. Now, if you give me the stone, she will not have died in vain! It is that simple, boy."

At this, the boy reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the blood-red stone. It gleamed in the firelight as the boy twisted it in his little fingers.

"That's it, Harry," said Tom, who felt so eager he was just about ready to attack the boy himself. If only he had a body of his own…

"That's it, give it here," he continued, "Because together, we could bring them back. All I ask is for something in return."

The looked as though he was ready to give in. He looked from Tom to the stone and then back to Tom.

"There is no good and evil, son," Tom added, "There is only power and those too weak to seek it. Together, we'll do extraordinary things. Just give me that stone!"

He was so sure that he had the boy now, but suddenly, the boy cried "YOU LIAR!"

"KILL HIM!" bellowed Tom, deciding it was time to act.

Quirrell flew right up to the boy and seized him, pulling him down to the stone steps. He wrapped his fingers around the boy's throat and began to choke him as hard as he could. Tom felt all of Quirrell's strength working at the task at hand, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a painful sensation prickled around his fingers. Quirrell let go of the boy and backed away. His hand began to crumble into bits and pieces, like stone.

"What is this magic?!" he yelled as the pain and agony overcame him.

"FOOL, GET THE STONE!" shouted Tom.

He could already feel the vulnerability and desperation in his own voice. His opportunity to get it all back was slipping from him.

Quirrell spotted the gleaming red stone which had hit the ground. He made to reach for it, but the boy seemed to have gotten to him first for now, Tom felt the other side of his head burning like blazing fire. He felt it too crumble to pieces as Quirrell shrieked and yelled in pain.

"THE STONE! THE STONE! GET ME THE STONE!" Tom shouted over and over again, but Quirrell was no longer able to move or talk or even think. Too weak to carry on, he crumbled to the floor and died instantly.

Once again, Tom felt that horrible sensation of being pulled away from his body—or the body he had occupied for a little less than a year now—against his will. The last time he had felt it, 10 years ago, he had lost everything. Now, he watched as it happened again...as he crumbled into nothingness. The boy's back was turned to him and he was holding something in his hand. Not knowing what else to do, Tom decided to flee once again. He swept right through the boy. The boy yelled out loud and then fell against the stone steps.

Tom however, was already gone from the chamber. He had failed again. He had not gotten the stone. He had let his one last chance for resurrection slip by him. None of his Death Eaters had come to his aid. He was officially without hope. He moved quickly, knowing that soon Dumbledore and the others would come to the boy's aid. The boy—he seemed to always have someone aiding him. Whatever happened to loyalty? Tom did not stop to think about this. He was gone from the chamber. Gone from the castle. Gone from his life, yet again.

Do you guys think Tom would have considered letting Harry Potter join him and "be stronger together"?