Author's Note: So this chapter is a little longer than the others have been, not that I see you all minding much, but a lot happens so...you might want to invest in a sticking charm to stay in your seat? I hope you enjoy!

Little Gem

Hogwarts over holiday break was beautiful and Harry was unrestrained in his quests for both scouring the Library and exploring the castle. Unfortunately he wasn't left with much time for the former as Lorelei had become insistent on getting Harry out of the stone walls and into the fresh air much like they had been at the manor during summer. Initially Harry had been wary about letting his familiar roam the snow drifts but she had raced ahead and showed him gleefully how the snow did not affect her. Being native to the Isle of Skye, Scotland was her habitat and she was made to weather the harsh winters and mild summers.

So Harry had pushed all academic pursuits to the back of his mind and enjoyed honing his Transfiguration and Charms skills in the snow. He made animals that could hop through the snow for Lorelei to chase down and crush between her rapidly growing jaws, made a pressure gauge to see just how powerful her bite was, and even turned his snowman into a waltzing charmer that sang in triple meter, much to Professor Flitwick's utter astonishment. That had led to the man promising to draw up a new lesson plan for Harry because apparently the Charms final was to make a fruit dance though Harry had been sworn to secrecy.

Apart from having childish fun with Lorelei Harry had also taken to protecting Professor Quirrell from the wrath of Weasley twins who had begun to follow him everywhere and pelt him with charmed snowballs in attempt to rile up the mild tempered, anxiety ridden professor. This was not something Harry condoned and so one afternoon after having already diverted the terrors twice Harry grew tired and decided that winning their ire would draw their attention away from Quirrell permanently. He began to plot and charm snowballs. The next time he caught the twin terrors anywhere near the Defense professor Harry launched a full scale attack of charmed snowballs and the twins had been thoroughly unprepared. By the time they realized what was happening and could think of counter measures the attack was over, they were blue and bronze wherever they had been hit and Harry was already half way back to the castle walls.

"This isn't over Potter," they yelled gleefully as Harry retreated.

This began what Harry referred to as the Great Yule Prank War of '91. Over the course of several days the twins had managed to slip him a Belching Potion in his tea that left Harry burping alarmingly loudly for hours anytime he tried to talk, they had gotten into the Ravenclaw common room and desecrated the sacred question board with questions of lovesick preteens – How long are Harry Potter's eyelashes? Do you think Harry Potter would be a good kisser? How is it possible for Harry Potter to be so dreamy? – and they had also swiped all of Harry's Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and replaced them with horrid ice mice. The latter had been a direct hit to Harry's reading time because it was well known that Harry Potter was almost always smacking away and blowing bubbles as he read, much to the ire of everyone - especially Madam Pince.

But Harry gave as good as he got, much to the amusement of the Professors – the only witnesses of the Prank War except the other Weasley siblings. He had charmed the twins' shoes with a modified Glisseo spell – Professor McGonagall had given him a proud smile and awarded him twenty points for talent and ingenuity – so that whenever the twins tried to walk up or down stairs the stairs turned into slides. This had amused the twins greatly at first until they had tried to walk up the stairs. He'd also managed to, with the help of a house elf, enchant their pillows to scream swear words whenever the twins started to fall asleep – which almost had them begging for mercy.

The crowning prank of all that led to the twins making him a crown engraved with Prank Master Beware was when Harry had pranked them at dinner in full view of every professor at Hogwarts. Harry had spiked their food with an aging potion and dosed their cups with – completely moral – love potions, Fred was keyed to Professor Snape and George was keyed to Professor McGonagall.

When the twins had started aging they had tried to ask for help they were only able to sing sonnets about their 'beloved' professors. Harry had taken great joy in everyone's horror, after all who said he wasn't studying for classes?

While these shenanigans had left the staff riotous and cheerful, Harry had not expected the consequences. Showing off his magical prowess had gained the attention of the Headmaster. The day after the pranks ended – the twins had conceded with the promise of retribution – Harry had been summoned to Dumbledore's office via owl and left Harry feeling rather dreadful as he made his way to the stone gargoyle and repeated the password, "Sherbert Lemon".

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore greeted happily from behind his desk as he closed a rather large, black leather tome with no name on the cover.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry replied evenly, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Please do sit down I find that my knees are no longer what they used to be and much prefer the comforts of a soft chair." Dumbledore, in a show of wandless and wordless magic, sent the unknown book back to the small bookshelf underneath the window.

Silently Harry was impressed because he'd been under the impression wandless magic was nearly impossible, but he tried very hard not stare and kept his face as neutral as possible. "If this is about the love potions they weren't really love potions, just tied to make the twins verbal satire keyed to one person. Technically that's not against the rules and –"

Harry cut off abruptly when the head master smiled and waved away his defense. "Quite the contrary Mr. Potter you have shown the staff how incredibly gifted you are with your fun with the Weasley twins. I do hope that this 'Prank War' will not be the last; laughter is food for the soul as I have found. I am glad your father's sense of humor has finally showed itself, I was beginning to think that while you look a great deal like him your personality would be entirely your mother's."

With that Harry's stiff posture relaxed some. "Then why am I here Headmaster?" Not that Dumbledore's office was a terrible place to be – far from it actually. There were piles of interesting books taller than Harry and interesting silver gadgets that adorned shelves. There was even a real Phoenix on a perch behind the Headmaster's desk that Harry was greatly interested in.

"As much as I would like this to be a social visit," Professor Dumbledore said sounding rather strained, "I am afraid that your behavior towards your classes has been less than ideal."

Now that Harry knew why he was here he felt rather dumb for not figuring it out before. "You have stopped attending History of Magic and after quite a rude spectacle, Potions. Despite your clear and impressive demonstrations of understanding advanced magical theory and their practical uses your grades in the classes you do attend are barely passing, very low Acceptables according to your professors."

Dumbledore looked at Harry over the rims of his half-moon spectacles and Harry had the very intense urge to fidget. His performance wasn't that bad, the headmaster was making it sound much worse than it was. So what if Harry didn't waste his time with homework essays on topics he could recite in his sleep. He had so much more interesting things to study like applying charms to inanimate to animate transfigurations.

"Are you having trouble with your house Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a very grandfatherly voice.

"No," Harry immediately rejected the mere idea. They may be wary of him on some topics but Harry loved Ravenclaw. "I just don't see the point of homework when the material is so hopelessly dull. I get bored and find other ways to occupy myself."

The wizened headmaster nodded as if this was expected. "I figured as much. Be assured Harry that the staff are already developing a lesson plan for you but they cannot pass it by the Board of Governors if they have no confidence in your ability to handle it."

"But I can handle it!" Harry exclaimed rather loudly. "You've seen what I can do. You know I can."

"I know your talented and so do your professors, but the Board of Governors do not know you. They see your grades and think you are barely passing your normal classes as it is and that you are even failing two." The urge to scream in frustration was nearly overwhelming. He was being backed into a corner and the feeling of being outmatched was new and awful.

"In order for you to have this new curriculum you must show the Board that you are capable of handling it," Dumbledore said as he folded his hands together. Harry wondered how on Earth the man appeared so calm and caring when he could practically taste the headmaster's triumph.

Harry glared at the floor as he debated his two options; spend the rest of the year focusing on monotonous busy work for an advanced curriculum next year or continue on and spend the next six years as he had been.

"I won't go back to Potions or History," Harry said after a long heavy pause in conversation. "I'm willing to concede to every other class but I won't go back to either of those two. You could sign my drop form and - "

"I won't," the headmaster cut Harry off. "Those are important classes that are critical to your education here and I won't sign off for you to drop them. Should you decided not to go back you will sacrifice an advanced curriculum and receive two failing grades per year."

It was that moment that Harry learned exactly how stubborn he could be. "Then I will be continuing on as I have been. I refuse to attend classes where one professor is out of touch with the physical realm and teaches nothing but Goblin Rebellion and Troll Wars and the other professor has turned his classroom into a death chamber where I am constantly verbally attacked while I await imminent death from hazardous potion making. You may be familiar with gas chambers, Headmaster, but I do not wish to be."

Headmaster Dumbledore's genial demeanor froze over and the air became several degrees colder. Harry watched as twinkling blue eyes grew frosty and wondered absently if he hadn't pushed too far. Would he be expelled now? What would he do if he were expelled? Considering that Professor McGonagall had said Hogwarts was the best school that had to mean it wasn't the only school, but if Hogwarts was considered the best what would the others be like? Was it possible for them to be worse? Harry decided he'd have to research other magical schools as soon as possible if only to be aware of other options.

"I will not condone this behavior, Mr. Potter. I personally selected Professor Snape and have never had complaints over my curriculum. The students who pass through my halls have higher capabilities than any other school." Harry watched as Dumbledore stood and the man's shadow fell over him. "Furthermore I will not be challenged and so blatantly disrespected by a student. Not only am I your magical guardian during school terms I am also your guardian out of school and you may choose to fail your schooling if you wish but you will not speak to me in such a manner again."

Harry watched with wide eyes as the genial grandfather was completely replaced with a quiet ferocity that left him stunned and if he were honest – scared.

"Now before you leave," Dumbledore said as evenly and ferociously as the rest of his speech had been, "I have received word from your relatives that you never returned to Private Drive last summer."

Kicked in the stomach, that's how Harry felt. It was as if he had been trapped in a corner and then kicked in the stomach all of the air had been knocked out of him. "There are wards – powerful and ancient magic – called blood wards that your mother enabled to be erected when she sacrificed her life for you. I realize that Potter Manor is vastly different from the muggle world but it is imperative that you return to your relative's house. You are vastly safer under the protection of the blood wards – where Voldemort or his Death Eaters cannot touch you.

"Potter Manor is well known and would be crippled under siege from Voldemort."

It was the first confirmation of Voldemort's continued existence he had and Harry's mind tried to grapple with new information while trying to cope with the devastating and crippling loss of control that he had only just managed to get over his life. His mind spun so fast that the room seemed to dim and tilt. For a long moment of heavy silence Harry sat there stupidly trying to wrap his mind around everything.

"I won't go back," Harry whispered fervently as he stared into space. "You can't make me go back, I won't."

Harry was prepared to fight, he was ready to scream and kick and cause a bloody riot over this. Nothing the headmaster had to say would change his mind, not his guardianship and not Voldemort. He would not go back to his cupboard. He would not return to being a weak punching bag. There was no force on the Earth that could make Harry go back. He would have to be dragged kicking and cursing.

The wizened Headmaster seemed to grasp this and much to Harry's surprise the man did not once again draw himself up or try to intimidate Harry. Instead frosty blue eyes warmed and looked at him sadly. "You will be returning," Dumbledore said quietly as he sat back in his chair.

"I won't," Harry replied vehemently.

The stalemate hung heavy in the air and when Harry was dismissed to return to his dorms he was plagued with feeling that he while he survived to argue another day the war of wills was far from won. He returned to his dorm and curled up under his comforters covered in heating charms with Lorelei. The warmth did little to comfort Harry though as he felt tremors wrack his body. The terror that plagued him was the kind that Harry had thought he had left behind at the Dursley's for good. It was helplessness and the subconscious need to submit to survive that overrode every rational thought – the need to curl up so small that you disappeared into the background and prayed you didn't lose yourself in the process. Be no one, be silent, be obedient…survive.

The next few days passed in a gray fog of self-protecting indifference. The twins tried to engage him in a snowball fight, Professor Quirrell tried to engage Harry in intricate theory on shield charms, Ron Weasley had even offered to teach Harry how to play chess, but Harry withdrew from everyone. The most difficult had been Professor Quirrell. Harry wanted so much to confide in him, to try to seek out comfort in the only person who had truly shown some understanding to Harry's situation. But the professor, no matter how different and understanding, was only his teacher. What could one teacher do stop the Headmaster who was also the Head of the Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards?

So Harry had taken to trying to avoid everybody at all costs. When Professor Quirrell sought him out in the Library Harry had taken Lorelei and together they had taken to exploring the grounds.

Yule Solstice or Christmas dawned bright and early. Notices were posted that a feast would be held at two and all were welcome to attend. Harry had woken up late in the morning and had been relatively surprised that he had presents. Nanette had sent him a large pack of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in all sorts of flavors and Mandy had sent him a large box of Chocolate Frogs. Harry had sent them both Honeydukes' certificates.

Then there was two more packages, both larger and one rather squishy. He opened the latter first and was deeply surprised to find a silky cloak that smelled like dust. Much to his astonishment when he had tried it on Harry had found that it was an invisibility cloak. Quickly Harry had torn the paper apart looking for a note. His gut clenched painfully when he recognized the spidery scrawl of the headmaster.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It's time it was returned to you. Use it well.

Any happiness Harry had had over having such a rare and useful gift was tinged with bitterness and fear when he recognized Professor Dumbledore's attempt at mending fences. Harry was fighting every instinct ingrained in him since he was one. He would not go willingly back to Private Drive. He couldn't. If he did, if he willingly put himself back in that mindset, Harry wasn't sure he could pull himself out of it.

The last gift Harry received was just as bittersweet. It was a large black leather bound book full of blank, expensive parchment pages. Harry ran his hands over the cover reverently before he reached for the note.

It is my fervent desire for you to fill these pages with your discoveries. – Professor Quirrell

Harry wanted to be happy because it was such a beautiful gift, but it left Harry feeling incredibly guilty. He had been avoiding the professor and had even rather violently pushed the man out of his mind when the professor had tried to initiate their game. It's just that Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to keep calm, to keep focused enough to keep his meeting with the headmaster secret. Though Harry hadn't totally ignored the man, he had sent Professor Quirrell his gift with a school owl. Harry had enchanted a porcelain teapot from the kitchens with an enchantment he had found while scouring the library for anything to make a grimoire.

The teapot was enchanted to pour the intended drinkers favorite tea no matter how many people it served at once. The enchantment had been tricky and Harry had failed many times over the course of two weeks but eventually he had gotten it right and had been quite proud of it.

Harry opted to skip the feast that was being held and stayed with Lorelei and her new toy deer that Harry had ordered from Diagon Alley. It was a magnificent piece of spellwork. The deer was charmed to run and dodge and let Lorelei hone her hunting skills. Whenever she managed to kill it the deer would drop and repair itself only to go dashing around once more.

The two of them had stayed outdoors for hours. Harry had watched her play and chase the deer through snow drifts and across the lawn. A few hours past dark they had ended up near the forbidden forest and far away from the Gamekeeper's hut.

For another hour Lorelei played ecstatically and Harry let the cool air dull the razor sharp terror that had engulfed Harry since his meeting with the headmaster. His head was beginning to clear with time and the resolution to fight gradually became stronger. Though he was still greatly perturbed at how easily the wizened headmaster had instilled the same fear that Harry had thought he had escaped.

The foreboding never left but Harry was able to shove it away. He would find a way to regain control, he was sure of it. For now though, Harry was content to follow Lorelei into the Forest to hunt her deer.

The Forbidden Forest was quiet and eerie as always but ever since his week-long detention forays with Professor Quirrell the quiet was soothing instead of fearful. The forest was nice to stroll through if you knew the areas to avoid – the Acromantula nest to the west of the Gamekeeper Hutt and the Centaur camp to the east. Harry stayed on the path that he and Quirrell had taken and was quite relaxed as he studied the various smaller magical animals.

There was a grey and fuzzy Glumbumble that was rolling across a fallen tree that was blowing spit bubbles, when it saw Harry it produced a treacle, but he knew better than to eat it. A pair of Jarvies popped up from their holes when Harry passed and Lorelei had taken to chasing them while the ferrets shouted obscenities like 'Slug' and 'Fatty' at her. It was quite amusing. Further in a Moke took interest in Lorelei and was scenting her until it spotted Harry and shrunk itself before fleeing.

Harry had been enjoying himself so much that it took a long time to realize that that the forest around him, which had been quiet but alive, was now completely silent and still. Even Lorelei who had been having a wonderful time seemed tense. But before Harry could ask her what was wrong his scar started to tingle. It prickled – not painfully – and steadily grew stronger until Harry clapped his hand to his forehead and gasped in surprise.

Then out of the dense fog that loomed along the forest floor rose a figure draped in a large billowing black cloak. It rose a few feet higher, never touching the ground and it floated slowly toward Harry. Harry watched in fascination wondering how on earth it was possible to fly without aid and was completely enraptured at the sight the figure coming ever nearer, slow and steady as if to give Harry time to bolt. But his legs were locked and the thought of running was quickly discarded as he tried to figure out what was happening.

He'd only ever felt a tiny prickle in his scar with Professor Quirrell but now the sensation had amplified a thousand fold. The closest thing Harry could describe it as was awareness – a closeness so intimate that it soothed his raw nerves that had been exposed for the last few days.

Finally the figure stopped short, fully upright and still not touching the forest floor, about two feet from Harry. Silence loomed thick and heavy as the fog on the ground. Harry remained quite still, intensely aware of the almost stifling magic that crackled around the figure. He tried to peek under the deep hood, tried to see a face or any defining characteristic, when the figure's head rose slightly and allowed Harry to make out piercing scarlet eyes in the looming darkness of the hood.

"Harry…Potter…" the figure's voice was a breathy whisper; rough and gravelly, a deep baritone that drawled slowly but crisply.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered back just as airily. There was no doubt now. Every cell of Harry's body knew exactly who this figure was.

Slowly Voldemort inched forward and Harry still did not move. There was so much Harry wanted to ask, wanted to say, but he found his jaw incapable of unhinging and forming words. He felt utterly immobilized in fascination. This man had managed the most incredible magic Harry had ever heard of – surviving without body or wand. The sheer amount of magic that crackled around them was breathtaking and it took an embarrassingly long time for Harry to realize that it was both of their magic. Harry's own had responded and together the atmosphere was thick and heady and electric.

"Yesss…" Voldemort's gravelly confirmation was punctuated by the elongated hiss.

It rolled a shiver down Harry's spine. Voldemort was also a Parselmouth, Harry remembered reading, but the Dark Lord was so elegantly fluid that Harry could hear it even when he spoke in English. It was the ultimate mastery of Parseltongue that Harry hoped to someday achieve.

"I have watched you…studied you…" Another shiver rolled down Harry's spine. The scrutiny of that piercing bloody gaze felt white hot on Harry's skin. "So inquisitive…chained up like a starving dog…"

"I'm not a dog," Harry growled fiercely and Voldemort laughed - a deep gravelly rumbling sound that reverberated through Harry.

"So bold and unafraid…You defied all of my expectations…I wonder…Will you defy another?"

Voldemort's scarlet eyes were alight in morbid curiosity. "Do you know why the third floor corridor was out of bounds? Do you know what was hidden there?"

"No, I didn't care." This elicited another gravelly laugh and Harry waited, tense and rigid for the test to come.

"The Sorcerer's Stone was hidden deep beneath foolish traps…" Harry felt his eyes widen in surprise. The Sorcerer's Stone, also known as the Philosopher's Stone, was Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel's greatest achievement – the greatest achievement of Alchemy. It was known to transmute base metals into pure gold and when brewed properly grant the drinker immortality. The possibilities of such a stone were phenomenal and mind blowing but for Voldemort… for Voldemort it could mean a body.

"Yesss, I see the recognition in your eyes." Voldemort inched even closer and Harry found gleaming red eyes challenging him intently. "You know what it does and who I am, now know this: I have taken the stone."

Harry's heart was racing in his chest faster than a hummingbird's wings and his breathing was heavy and uneven. His head was tingling fiercely and pleasantly, magic crackled around them, and Harry waited for Voldemort to continue.

"I will leave here tonight and the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort will be imminent…Will you, Harry Potter, try and stop me?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat as Voldemort's hood angled as if he had cocked his head to the side. Scarlet eyes were still the only thing he could see and they gazed at him in expectant curiosity.

This was a defining moment, Harry knew that. There really would be no point to fight, Harry surmised, as even if he managed to kill Professor Quirrell who Harry was sure was under that cloak somehow playing host – not that he had any intention of doing so – Voldemort would probably still survive. It was almost rather insulting to Harry's intelligence for Voldemort to even ponder such a thing.

But this wasn't about who would win now – it was about if Harry would act against the man –men? – he had come to know over the last half year. It was about if Harry would act against Voldemort.

Harry knew nothing more than what his biased books and peers had told him about Voldemort and as such he could not make this decision on facts alone. Some say Voldemort was a man bent on dominating and destroying the world, others say he was a revolutionary genius. Harry didn't know which of these were true, if either of them were, or if one had been true but was now false. The only thing that Harry did know was that the one person Harry felt closest to for the last four months turned out to be Voldemort and that they were fated – by wands – not to fight.

Ollivander's words that had plagued Harry for months finally made sense. "I've decided I believe in fate." Harry said after a long moment of silence.

"Whether you are the mass murderer bent on world domination and destruction or the revolutionary fighting for a just cause, it doesn't matter. I am a boy you can't kill and you are man who I can't kill, I was destined for the wand you can't fight and you were destined for a wand I can't fight. I believe we're meant to be friends – fated even."

Silence reigned almost oppressively as Harry waited for Voldemort to say something. His heart was fluttering and skipping leaving him breathless.

"You continue to fascinate me little gem," Voldemort closed the remaining few inches between them and the magic around them crackled quietly. "I hope you continue to do so for a very long time."

Harry found himself leaning forward – desperate to make out the man's features – when Voldemort pulled back and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke.