Harry watched the last quidditch match of the semester. It would be wonderful to be out there darting after the tiny golden snitch. He had flown many times in the past while but to actually do it for a purpose would add new excitement. He sat in the teacher's box with Hermione on his right and Blaise to his left. He sat in the teacher's box because he had no house. He could easily sit with the other houses but preferred the more dignified air in the teacher's box. Hermione and Blaise were let in because he had asked. Blaise was at the moment quietly arguing with Hermione over which Quidditch team was going to win, Gryffindor or Slytherin. Harry watched Quirell out of the corner of his eyes the man was watching him. He was unsure if the man knew he knew this. Snape was watching Quirell also.

Harry delicately tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and noticed a tall elegant blonde man watching him very closely. The man looked quite similar to Draco Malfoy. There was something different about him. He definitely had more power, wisdom, and cunning. He also seemed to be much stronger mentally and physically. Unlike Draco he did not seem quite so arrogant, though Harry was sure that could change in an instant if anyone looked. There was something about him though…something that caught Harry's attention and tried to ensnare it. He found himself frequently glancing at the man. His stomach clenched slightly as green eyes met silver. He could not figure what he felt though.

As their eyes met they stayed caught together. For a moment only there was only the two of them. The man shifted slightly fingering a cane and smoothing a long black cloak, but silver eyes never left Harry's green ones. Harry wanted to shift, but carefully built composure and masks stayed firm. The man tilted his head just slightly giving off a smirk. Harry felt his cheeks tinge slightly and finally broke contact looking away.

"Who is the blonde?" he asked Blaise softly.

Blaise had knowledge of most purebloods and important people in the wizarding world.

"That's Lucius Malfoy. He's on the board of Hogwart's Governors. He was said to be a death eater, Voldemort's right hand man, in the last war but pleaded imperious. He's a dangerous man with power, wealth, and many 'friends'. I would be careful around him." Blaise said glancing to the man only once.

Harry gave a nod and his eyes flashed to Lucius Malfoy once more. The man was giving him a smirk.

.--.

Harry stared at the ground from the high point on the astronomy tower. It was so far, yet only one step. He licked his lips once. He had often thought of suicide. Not recently, but when he was younger. He knew it wasn't right for five year old to think of suicide. Hell it wasn't normal for a five year old to know what suicide was. But Harry had known, knew. Harry had come close quite a few times when he was little. He had come to a resignation when he was younger that he would die someday. He had picture it a lot. He had always thought of himself dieing at the hands of the Dursely's and always felt that was not the way he wanted to go.

Unlike others he didn't want to go painlessly in his sleep. He wanted to feel adrenaline rush through his veins, to feel free as he died. He would not mind falling to his death, or fighting, or even burning. Ever since he could control fire, since five and a half or so he had been tempted to light his clothes and go out in the beautiful flames. He knew it would hurt, but he had long ago built up a high pain tolerance. He had had to.

Harry looked down at the ground far below and closed his eyes letting the breeze play with his hair and clothing. He could picture it so clearly. He would feel the wind around him, the air wrapping around him safely. He could feel his hair flying out around his face, and his cloth trying vainly to tug up away from his falling body. He could feel his limps tense and relax, in a way, as the adrenaline coursed through him but as his body knew it was in danger. He could feel his mind sing with the freedom of the fall and the peace. It would feel so wonderful.

His foot inched closer to the edge of the tower and could feel the wind so close. He could feel the fall. His body both screamed for it while rejecting it. There would be the adrenaline, then a brief pain, then utter peace and freedom. Blessed silence and peace. No beatings. No hate. No expectations. Harry didn't believe in any religion. No god or even devil had answered to his cries of pleas. He did not believe in reincarnation. He could not believe in it. Could not believe that he would have to suffer again. He believed that death was the end. There was nothing else. He hoped it was so.

Harry stepped back once his eyes opening a small feeling welling in him. Life hadn't been very unbearable since he was seven and had started school. It had felt worth living since then actually. He had lived for each day, each new skill acquired, each new piece of knowledge gained. He only thought of suicide now when he wanted the peace, the freedom. When he felt trapped. He hadn't thought of it though in about eight months. A record. He knew it was twisted. He knew he had problems. He knew he should have counselling. But he didn't want it. So he never told anyone what he felt.

Harry gazed at the edge and backed away again. He didn't think he would commit it anytime soon. He had Ne and Hedwig. He didn't want to let them down. He didn't want to give the Durselys the satisfaction. He found he was liking life more. But he could dream. He could dream of the wind in his hair and sense of peace. He could dream.

.--.

Harry watched as Hermione and Blaze bickered over a book. He did not smile but he felt a small feeling of contentment squeeze past the emptiness. He was much more messed up then anyone could ever dream. He was always so empty. He would smile, and laugh, and frown. But they were small and few, and so over exaggerated. Inside he was partially dead. Dead from the pain, dead from the lack of love, dead from the feeling of nothing. He could not remember when he had ever felt full of something, happiness, sadness, or hatred. He was empty. His theory was the feelings had been beaten from him at a young age.

He looked to the fire. The most emotion he had ever felt was an empty feeling of pride when he had found control of fire and the brief spark of happiness when he had learned of magic. Maybe that was why he was called a genius. He had no emotions to get in the way, just logic. He could focus on everything he did also, never feeling what he did wasn't good enough or what other people would think of it. He found it easier. Sometimes though, after reading all the physiology books, he didn't feel human. He didn't particularly care. But as he glanced at the two opposite of him, he had the brief feeling they were could help make him feel more human.

.--.

Harry was woken rudely as his bed vanished leaving him on cold stone. He blinked once looking at the stone floor where his bed had been. He felt Hogwart's magic strum and stood.

"Something's happened." He said aloud frowning.

The magic seemed to hum in agreement. Harry quickly pulled on some clothes and grabbed his wand. He headed for the bedroom door. As his hand touched the doorknob he saw the magic in Hogwart's flare and a bit extra gather at his door. He opened it and for a moment the view spun. Then with surprise he realized he was in a different room, not his common room balcony. His breath caught a moment as he looked at the round room filled with pillars. There was a mirror in the middle of the room. It was pure magic itself.

Harry stepped from his door and watched as it slowly faded into the wall. Harry cautiously stepped across the room to the mirror. He could see magic layered around the room, most likely in wards. He moved silently to the mirror and peered into the flat surface. His reflection shimmered. Then he saw them. His parents. They smiled at him from the mirror standing on either side of him, looking proud. He couldn't keep his fingers from brushing the mirror. Then surprisingly his reflection gave a bright happy grin. He could see his whole face soften and look absolutely happy. Behind, in the scenery, lay the bodies of the Dursely's. What that what he wanted? Parents and emotions? And the bodies of the Durselys? The last one absolutely, but the first two?

"Potter."

Harry turned around slowly hiding the surprise he felt. No one had snuck up on him in a long time. Quirell stood ten feet behind him, tall and proud.

"What are you doing here?" The man asked with narrowed eyes. "Are you after the Philosopher stone also?"

Harry put the pieces together. So the mirror held the philosopher stone. Harry knew it had held something important. Also, eve since he had read about the stone he had known Nicholas Flammel had given it to someone for safe keeping. It made sense in a way to keep it at Hogwarts.

"And if I am?" he asked instead gazing at the man apathetically.

Quirell gave him a studying look.

"We would have to fight for it."

Harry let a twisted smile over take his lips. He knew it made him look cruel. That was the point. He saw Quirell take a step back at the look.

"I believe I could fight you and Voldemort."

Quirell's eyes widened.

"Let me speak with him." A hiss came from the turban.

Quirell turned to face away from Harry and unwrapped the turban. Harry gazed at the face of Voldemort.

"Ah, Harry Potter." It hissed.

"Voldemort." Harry muttered.

"You seem to understand what I am, what I need the stone for. I'm a parasite at the moment." He spat. "But we have no need to fight. Join me Harry."

Harry tilted his head. Tempting. Voldemort's eyes seemed to light as Harry contemplated it.

"No." he said finally.

Voldemort snarled.

"Why not?"

"Because I know nothing of your side, other then tales from the light side. I am not on any side at the moment and I wish to stay like that till I have all the information. Maybe I will always stay there."

"So you are not against me."

He seemed pleased.

"No. But there are some things I can not allow."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"If you were to take the stone you would have to rip your way out of Hogwart's wards and that would hurt her. I can not allow that. Being 'Hogwart's apprentice' it is my duty to look after her." Harry said simply.

Voldemort gave a thoughtful look.

"So we fight."

"We fight."

Harry nimbly danced back towards the mirror and turned. His face, still grinning held up a stone. Harry felt a weight in his pocket before dancing away from a spell. He gave a tittering laugh as adrenaline pumped through his veins and he dodged another spell from Quirell. Quirell seemed frustrated while Voldemort just seemed impassive. Harry rolled away from another spell his body moving fluidly as he dodged. He was quick on his feet and graceful from dodging his cousin and his gang of bullies. He had also learned how to dodge Vernon's hits just so they didn't hit anything to vital or important, but still hit at the same time. It took control.

A spell came very close to his ear and his finally drew his wand. It was one fluid motion, his wand in his hand before Quirell had time to blink. Harry briefly wondered if he would be a good dueller. Harry threw a spell that was dodged. Quirell wasn't chosen as the DADA teacher for nothing. They exchanged more spells neither hitting the other. But Quirell was getting exhausted. It was easy to see he didn't have the largest magic core with Voldemort leeching off of it, and Voldemort would never lower himself to let his magic be used by Quirell.

Harry decided to take a chance and when he saw and opened he danced forwards nimbly pulling a knife from his boot and slamming it into Quirell's chest. The man made a chocking noise as he stumbled back. Harry couldn't use a knife very well, but well enough to hurt someone with one. He had gotten Quirell good though. The knife in his chest was deep. Quirell lurched forwards looking pained and furious wand raised. Harry just stepped forwards and grabbed his wand hand holding the wand straight up so he could not cast a spell at him.

Harry was surprised to see Quirell cry out in pain as his hand Harry had touched crumbled to dust. Harry saw that he seemed to hurt Quirell with just his touch and slapped his hand around Quirell's neck. He screamed in pain and tried to pull away but Harry had a good grip. He watched with a blank face as Quirell crumbled and died. Voldemort's spirit rose from the dust and gave a grin before vanishing. Harry gripped the stone in his pocket and the wand. Dumbledore suddenly appeared followed by McGonagall and Snape through a fireplace of purple flames. They stopped starring at the pile of dust and Harry.

"It is safe." Harry said simply.

.--.

Harry gazed at the feast impassively. Kid were either talking happily about going home or sadly about leaving Hogwarts. Why so much emotion? They would be back to the school and their parents would be waiting for them. He looked over the feast at the teacher's table. Dumbledore met his eyes and raised his cup slightly to toast the end of the year. Harry mirrored apathetically and swallowed his drink down. He glared at a few people casting him glances. The story about how he had defeated Quirell and saved the stone had… slipped from the headmaster's mouth. Now he had that on top of being the boy who lived. Irritating.

.--.

Harry kissed Hermione gently on the cheek then did the same to Blaise. They smiled at him.

"Don't worry Harry, we'll write." Hermione grinned.

"Yeah." Blaise agreed. "Maybe even visit."

Harry gave a small nod.

"Yes. I shall write also." He said stroking Hedwig's feathers.

"Good." Hermione chirped.

Then she hugged him. She stepped back and Blaise hugged him also.

"You be careful Harry." She said looking serious.

Harry knew she had glanced the nothing that was his emotions a few times. She knew he wasn't normal. She knew he was twisted. But she stayed with him and that almost warmed him.

"I will." He said.

Blaise gave a crooked grin though the look in his eyes was serious.

"You'd better love, or we'll come hunt you down." He said.

Harry gave his own crooked smirk.

"You could try." He whispered.

He watched as they split heading off to their own families. Harry stroked Hedwig softly. Then he pictured his room at the Dursely's. He had read this was called Apparating. It was supposed to be difficult and dangerous. He could do it since he was nine.

.--.

End of Chapter 8.