Hey all! Thank you so much for waiting! First, I would like to say that I will be replying to certain reviews down below. These will be questions or comments that I find interesting/something to explain. I apologize if I do not get to every reviewer but I honestly appreciate every little piece of feedback, whether it be one word or one hundred. Just know that every reader is well appreciated and loved by your dear author.

Thanks again to Roheryn's Knight for helping me out with this chapter! I hope you all enjoy this especially long chapter!

Chapter 3: Seek and You Shall Find

Wednesday—October 31, 1990

Harry raised the glass of pumpkin juice up to the ceiling of his room in a toast and downed the drink in one tilt of his head.

Happy death day, mother, father, he thought darkly to himself. Cheers to the both of you.

Pouring himself another shot, he settled back in the mountains of pillows and sipped the drink, staring blankly ahead.

The past few months had been nothing short of difficult. Strict training and lessons gave him little to no time to himself; no time to think and reflect. Only hours of straight magic theory, history, etiquette, practice, and everything a proper, Pureblood crafter should know. It was exhausting.

But Evan was to be gone for the day, leaving him alone in the manor for the first time.

And for some reason, Harry felt nervous.

He was learning to control the magic. He could push away the overwhelming amounts of webs and could concentrate on the few he needed at times. But there were still accidents when he became lost in the myriad of strings, where he would have ended up a vegetable if it had not been for his anchor, who would dutifully pulled him out of his daydream with a scowl and a sharp retort.

Evan was his savior. His savior from his relatives and his savior from his traitorous parents. God forbid he be left with anyone else. Not only that, Evan was his godfather. Someone to be trusted.

Grimacing at a sharp pain at his temple, Harry reached up to rub at his forehead. He thought he glimpsed a pale, white web tangled in his hair, but when he blinked, it was gone.

Harry sighed and sank deeper in the pillows. He was going mad. He was ten years old and suffering from separation anxiety. It was pathetic.

Despite himself, he reached down and touched a thin metal bracelet encircling his wrist. The bracelet was an ouroboros, the thin snake's head crowned with a circle of sparkling green gems.

It was more or less a monitoring band. If his magic ever sprang out of control or if he was in danger of losing himself in the webs, Evan would be alerted. He would have to hold his own until his grounder came to save him.

And Harry was more than capable of holding his own. With as much control he had over his webs, he had no problem dealing with most wizards and witches. It was his own problems he had to deal with.

Sighing, Harry forced himself off of the bed, placing his empty glass on his nightstand before pulling on a robe on over his night gown. Evan had told him little of where he was going or what Harry was and wasn't allowed to do on his own.

He was perfectly content with doing what he wanted most—explore his new home.

Opening the door, Harry padded outside, his sharp eyes darting around the corners of the hallway, as if expecting his guardian to jump out with a harsh reprimand and slap on the wrist. Clenching his hand together, the familiar view of webs popped into existence.

At his point of training, the webs were no longer unfamiliar strings of bright colors and quiet whispers. He could single out a web of magic almost naturally and manipulate it to his own will. Harry's eyes softened as he reached up to caress the warm magic in his palm, breathing out as string twined around his finger and murmured words of safety and protection.

Magic had a funny way of differentiating different types of magic. There was no color that represented each spell; but somehow, from his gut, he was able to tell by the mixture of colors and the whispers of what he was looking at. Most webs were simply made of pure magic, a basic foundation for magic-users to pull on and create a spell from intent. That was what Harry did best: creating spells impossible to any other man with a simple twitch of his fingers.

Evan could do little to teach him about learning the secrets of the webs. That was left to the few ancient second-hand accounts of what a crafter could see, hear, and practice. Suffice to say, it led to more than enough close calls on his side.

After noticing no suspicious pieces of magic, Harry continued down the hallway and down the winding flight of stairs that led to his wing of the manor. He glanced at the sleeping portraits and quickly weaved an invisibility charm over his body.

Striding quickly down the hallway, past the kitchen, dining room, and tea room, Harry paused to peak into several broom closets and overly extravagant loos. He smothered a chuckle. His relatives would have happily died on the polished, marble floors if they could even take a shit in the gleaming toilet.

Still smirking, Harry opened another door and found it locked. Frowning, he tried the ornate door knob again and found it stuck fast.

Crouching, he eyed the snake shaped handle, which was arched, its mouth open as if ready to take a bite of an intruder. He reached out to the handle and, to his astonishment, the snake came to life, its head snapping forward and jaws closing down on thin air as he barely snatched his hand back in time.

Harry stared at the door handle incredulously as the snake settled back into its original position, a hiss emerging from its opened mouth.

Sssss…. Intruder… must kill intruder….

Harry felt himself freeze. Was it him or did the snake just… talk?

Sssstupid boy….. ssss…. I am lock… lock lock…. no one but master… sssss..

Bristling, Harry glared at the offending décor. It didn't seem too weird that the door knob was talking. If portraits and mirrors could, why not doors?

I'm not ssstupid he told the door knob childishly. You're sstupid.

There was no response. Harry wasn't expecting one, but he kicked the door anyways, bruising his bare toe in the process.

Swearing under his breath, Harry glared at the immobile snake. Challenge accepted.

Concentrating, Harry opened his eyes to the webs again and felt himself stumble back.

The door was shimmering with webs of all colors, the amount of magic so thickly layered that it would reach his wrist if he placed his hand flat on the surface.

He narrowed his eyes. Wards this thick were only made for two things: a house or something secretly important. And anything secretly important was never good.

But before he could try and break down the webs, a house elf popped by his side.

"Master Harry!" Miffy squeaked, wringing her hands together. "A guest is waiting for Master Evan in the drawing room. Should Miffy tell the guest to come back later?"

Harry nodded sagely, hoping the house elf hadn't noticed him breaking into Evan's private office. "Yes, have him come back when Evan returns."

Bowing, Miffy popped away and Harry exhaled heavily.

That was much too close. The house elves were bound to his godfather and were required to report anything to Evan.

Feeling slightly guilty for attempting to intrude in Evan's own privacy, Harry retraced his steps back toward his wing, looking forward to drowning himself in more pumpkin juice.

Just as he passed the drawing room, however, he heard a loud argument erupting.

"No, you blasted elf! Bring me your master immediately! I know this manor well enough to know that there is someone living here! Go back to your master and bring him here! Tell him that I received his letter and we have much to discuss."

"Miffy is telling the truth! Master is not home!"

"Why you little—" the voice cut off and a bang sounded from within the room.

Gasping, Harry ran toward the two large wooden doors and wrenched them open. Pulling on his webs, he shot into the room, his magic raising to dangerous levels as he faced the intruder.

But as he made eye contact with a pair of dark, grey eyes, he felt himself freeze.

The man was tall—taller than Evan even—and wore long, elegant green robes that folded and flowed down his body like a waterfall. His long, blond hair was tied in a low ponytail, framing his aristocratic features. Heeled dragonhide boots accented his angular legs as the blond towered over the fallen house elf, a walking stick in one hand and a wand in the other pointing at Miffy.

Lucius Malfoy nearly snarled as he was interrupted from cursing the insolent creature. His dark magic twisted and paced restlessly in his body like a rabid beast, screaming and thrashing to be used. With aurors patrolling his manor day and night following the fall of the Dark Lord, Lucius had no choice but to use nothing but light spells if only to protect his family.

Two days ago, he received a peculiar letter from a man he thought dead for years. Evan Rosier, a once feared Death Eater notorious for his dueling and sadism, was a man of few words. The Dark Lord favored the man, mostly because of their shared lust for bloodshed and death. He rarely spoke to his fellow Death Eaters, and when he did, they were written letters of subtly veiled threats or requests.

In his letter to Lucius, Evan had written a short message. Find me and you shall learn. Seek me and you shall gain.

The simple fact that Evan Rosier had somehow escaped the clutches of the aurors and had sent a message to him, another Death Eater, could lead to nothing but the Dark Lord.

And so Lucius had stormed to the Rosier manor, finding himself able to pass through the wards. But to be met with and denied by a house elf was an insult Lucius wouldn't let pass. He knew the manor well enough from the past to know that the house was inhabited.

Eyes snapping to the door, Lucius nearly dropped his wand shock and felt for the first time: astonishment.

A boy who looked no older than eight years old stood between the two ornate wooden doors. His eyes were a poisonous green, almost the identical color of the killing curse but more vibrant and alive. What drew his attention the most was the tidal wave of magic he felt upon the boy's entrance. Magic swirled around his body, forming what looked like a pair of spiked wings looming over his head. It thrummed, sang, and danced around the boy, wrapping around him like a cocoon of indestructible magic.

Lucius felt something dormant stir deep within him.

Taking a step back, he placed his wand back into the walking stick and stood up straight, ignoring the pathetic blubbering from the house elf behind him and took a small step toward the boy.

"What is your name, child?" he asked softly. His fingers twitched, craving to touch such an embodiment of power.

Lucius was known for many things. He was known for his love of beauty, his love of blood, and lastly, his love for magic. The Dark Lord's alluring power had been a major reason why he joined as a Death Eater. He was drawn to powerful magic; the more dangerous, the more exotic, the better.

And here before him stood a boy that had his body trembling and craving more, more, more of this enthralling magic

Harry stared at the man with wide eyes. He could feel his resolve to protect the house elf and his home weaken under the piercing gray eyes. Grabbing the webs around him, he wove them in a protective shield around him and gathered magic in his palms.

"Who are you?" he retorted, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

Lucius couldn't even bring himself to sneer at the boy's lack of manners. The magic was so ever intoxicating…

The Floo behind him suddenly flared and Evan strode out, taking in the scene without a flinch from his violet eyes. He watched with narrowed eyes as the boy made eye contact with the man and the tangible magic surrounding him vanished. The brush of powerful magic, however, remained thick and heavy in the air.

Evan could barely believe his luck. He couldn't imagine a better first meeting between Lucius Malfoy and his young protégé.

"Lucius," he murmured indifferently, giving a small bow to the man. "I see you have met my student."

Lucius cocked an eyebrow. "Student?" he asked in a haughty voice.

Evan hummed in confirmation and beckoned Harry closer. The boy obeyed, walking over to Evan albeit a bit cautiously, his eyes never moving from the stranger.

He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed. "Yes, he is someone you will be eager to meet sometime in the future. You have felt his magic and he is only ten years of age."

Draco's age, Lucius thought curiously. The boy was extraordinarily small and skinny for even a ten year old. "Does the boy have a name?"

Before Harry could speak up, Evan squeezed his shoulder tighter and gave Lucius a cold smile. "Yes he does." He did not care to elaborate.

Lucius knew that Evan was toying with him. His fascination with magic was a poorly hidden secret and Evan knew exactly how to play to his desires. Normally, the temptation would be resistible, but the magic he had felt minutes ago was startling pure and alluring. It was almost impossible to turn away from.

"Perhaps we should retire to a different room to… discuss some details of your return and the child."

Evan allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch in amusement. "Yes, you and I will have much to speak about." He turned to Harry with commanding eyes. "Return to your rooms. I will deal with you later."

Harry was smart enough to recognize a ploy being played. He bowed his head and said obediently, "yes, sir."

But before he could take a step, Lucius spoke up almost casually. "There's no need for you to leave, child. I have a son the same age as you. Perhaps you and he could meet and discuss the finer points of what boys your age appreciate."

"How gracious of you, Lucius," Evan purred in a simpering voice. "However, the boy has no need for such trivialities." His voice turned demanding. "I will not repeat myself. Return to your rooms, now."

Harry bowed his head again, pushing away the disappointment of meeting another wizard boy his age and let himself out of the door. Before he turned the corner, he glanced behind him and met the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. A shiver ran through his body at the man's intense gaze and he forced himself to tear his eyes away.

There was something about the man… Something different than that of Evan. Both men were cold and withdrawn, but Lucius's magic was intriguing. When he had interrupted the man from cursing the poor house elf, the blond's magic had reached out to his almost instinctively, murmuring soft words as if to seduce his magic.

Mulling over the enigma of Lucius Malfoy, Harry returned into his rooms and shut the door quietly. Jumping back onto his bed, he poured himself yet another glass of pumpkin juice and downed it.

While Lucius had taken his mind off of his James and Lily, the thought of the blond man had his blood racing and his magic sparking inside of him.

Groaning, Harry buried himself under the blankets and forced himself to lie still. Breathing in and out deeply, Harry settled down for his nightly routine of meditation.

Evan silently led Lucius down the hallways and into the tea room. As he passed his office, he paused, forcing the blond behind him to stop with an annoyed cough.

The wards surrounding the door had been disrupted and his protective measures, including his the snake that served as a handle, had been alerted.

What a naughty boy Harry had been. But it was only the matter of time before teenage curiosity kicked in and forced him to do something stupid. He would, of course, be scolding Harry about it later.

But first, Lucius was to be dealt with.

Brushing his hand on the wood of his door in reassurance, Evan resumed his leisurely walk to the tea room.

When they arrived, a house elf appeared and placed a tray of tea and biscuits on the coffee table and popped away. Seating himself in a tall, regal couch, he crossed his legs elegantly and waited for Lucius to make himself comfortable in the chair opposite of him.

"Tea?" he asked pleasantly. "Sugar or milk with it?"

Evan hated pleasantries, but the only way to deal with posh purebloods like the Malfoys was to play the perfect host.

"Please," Lucius nodded. "One cube of sugar, no milk."

Nodding, Evan put together the tea and pushed it in front of Malfoy. He snapped his fingers and a glass of Ogden's Firewhiskey appeared on top of a coaster. Sipping the drink, he tilted his head and regarded Lucius with a careful look.

"Do you know why I called you here?"

Lucius looked mildly affronted. "To see this child of yours and perhaps to boast. I would show the boy off to the world if he were mine."

"He is mine," Evan said softly, a dangerous tone underlying his words.

Lucius felt himself pause in surprise. "You have never taken interest in children before," he said carefully.

"The boy is mine to train, but he will be a servant of the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord?" Lucius repeated faintly. "The Potter boy killed him!"

Evan gave a vicious grin. "Do you really think that Tom Riddle would risk his life so without some sort of backup plan?"

"You dare speak his real name?" Lucius snapped in anger, clenching the handle of his wand tightly. "You dare ridicule him so?"

"Oh relax, Lucius," Evan said with a dry laugh. He took another sip of the firewhiskey before continuing. "The Dark Lord is not dead. In fact, I have information that he is already on the move, looking for a way to restore his body."

Lucius paled. "Restore his body? His spirit is still alive then."

"Yes," Evan said plaintively.

"Then we must prepare," Lucius stated strongly. "When the Dark Lord returns, we will have maintained his seat of power, creating for him the empire he once had before the Potters."

Evan leaned forward in his chair excitedly. His eyes gleamed unnaturally and Evan bared his teeth in a raw smile. "We all have our duties. Yours is to the Ministry. Mine is to the boy."

Lucius's gaze sharpened upon the mention of the boy. "What is he?" he asked softly. "A child that powerful cannot be human like the rest of us."

Evan weighed the question in his head. "He is different, you are right. But he is not… fully fledged. You will know once he and I return."

"Fully fledged?" Lucius asked rapidly. "And are you planning a trip of sorts?"

Evan gave a tittering laugh. "He has barely began his training. Can you imagine what kind of power he will wield when he reaches of age? Can you imagine what strength and power he will move with and grace the Dark Lord with?" Breathing out softly so that his cold breath gently touched the blond, Evan spoke quietly. "I will be taking the boy away with me to one of the Rosier safe houses. We need a place to train in peace and quiet. But we will be far from Wizarding Society. I need you to give this to the Dark Lord when he rises." He reached into his robe and pulled out a large envelope sealed by a red wax stamp with the Rosier crest imprinted on it.

Lucius accepted the envelope and placed it within his own robe pocket. His head was swimming with questions, but he knew it would do him no good to ask.

"The Dark Lord will not be… pleased about this," Lucius cautioned.

"I know," Evan said softly as he reached forward again for his glass of firewhiskey. His right hand reached out, but before it could make contact with the cool glass, it began to shake, a tremor shaking from the tips of his fingers down to his elbow.

Evan hissed and drew his arm back, glaring poisonously at the offending limb. He opened and closed his fist slowly, only to see his hand shake uncontrollably in the process.

Snarling, he backhanded the glass with the trembling hand, watching with little satisfaction as it flew from the table and smashed into the wall.

Lucius felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. He said nothing, however, and waited eagerly for the man in front of him to regain his composure.

Evan dug his nails into his palm and forced himself to calm. It would do him or Harry no good for Lucius to see anymore weakness than he already had.

"A… parting gift from the aurors," he said stiffly, standing up from his chair. He held his right hand behind his back.

"You are sure it will not hold you back from serving the Dark Lord?" Lucius asked coolly. "To the best of your abilities?"

Evan nearly snapped at the insult. "I think it is best if you leave," he managed to say with only a hint of anger. "You have what you must give to the Dark Lord. Do not forget, or you will face not only my wrath, but that of my child."

The mention of the powerful boy brought Lucius to a stand as well. "Do not fear, Rosier," he said lowly. "I have no intention of forgetting anything I witnessed today."

But before Evan could retort, a high, bloodcurdling scream rang out in the manor. He felt a pulse of magic ring through his body, most likely an alarm sent by the bracelet he had given Harry.

Ignoring the startled blond, he swiftly walked from the room, whipping the doors open and quickly striding toward Harry's wing. He could barely hear Lucius following and asking redundant questions over Harry's shrill screams. The screams stirred little emotion within him, but he could feel himself drowning in the powers of a grounder, flooded by adrenaline to protect and serve the child.

Gritting his teeth, Evan found himself walking faster.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been lying in bed attempting to meditate. He had changed his position at least ten times, moving from sitting, to lying face down, to standing. While it was normally challenging to properly clear his thoughts like Evan could, it was even more difficult after meeting the elusive Lucius Malfoy.

After the first five minutes of failed meditation, he had a house elf bring him a book on pureblood lines. Lucius Malfoy, as Evan had named, was infamous; a powerful, politically dangerous man who prided himself on his wealth and bloodline.

Harry couldn't help but worry again of what the Malfoy scion thought of him. He had barged in like an uncouth teenager wearing a simple robe over a nightgown and lacking any thought of manners, nevertheless pureblood greetings.

Groaning, Harry shifted so that he was hanging half off of his bed. He was sure his godfather would have an aneurism seeing him so ridiculous but at the moment, he could care less. Rubbing his hand over his face, Harry forced himself to push all thoughts of the blond and Evan out of his mind. The blood rushing to his face seemed to help a bit, and for the first time, everything in him went quiet.

Harry lay upside down, relishing the lack of noise. But soon, the silence became unnerving and Harry was beginning to feel uneasy. He cracked one eye open and felt his heart stop.

Everything around him was blindingly white. He could see the faint outline of his room, but it was so faded that the room might as well be empty.

Harry glanced to his side and gasped at the empty space where the bed he was lying on seconds ago. Flailing wildly, he flipped head first off onto the ground, smashing his nose against the ground.

Groaning, Harry lifted himself with his arms and looked around carefully. Was this what true meditation looked like?

If it was, it was rather frightening and he really didn't like being surrounded by so much white and… emptiness.

Standing, Harry gave an experimental twitch of his fingers and sighed in relief when the familiar pattern of magic webs popped up. But rather than the usual magic he saw, something was different. The webs were thicker and more widely woven, magic vibrating off of the strings in visible pulses. Each string was colored a snowy gray, almost blending in with the white background of the room. And for the first time, the webs were silent.

Reaching up to stroke one of the webs, Harry felt the familiar touch of magic spark at his fingertips. He moved to pull away and blinked as the web stuck fast to his skin, moving backward with his body.

He rotated his hand around slowly, watching with wide eyes as the web began to mold itself around his finger, then down to his palm. As the magic spread, Harry could feel himself begin to shake in panic. Giving a yell, he shook his hand violently, hoping it the web would be wrenched off. However, instead of flinging the magic off, more stuck onto his hand, and Harry watched in horror as the magic began to spread down his arm, torso, and legs.

Backing up, trying to distance himself from the invasive magic, Harry let out one last scream before the magic crawled up his neck and over his mouth and eyes. His shriek was cut off abruptly and his vision blackened out.

Despite being blinded and muted, Harry could feel his body fall down with a painful jar and thrash violently. Pain flashed through him and another scream bubbled up in his throat.

Suddenly, he felt a hand carding through his hair and he froze.

Shh…. Safe…. My son…

Harry struggled to respond or to wrench himself out of the stranger's grip but found his body held hostage.

The voice didn't come again, but phantom fingers continued stroking his hair, and Harry found himself relaxing. When he was all but putty in the stranger's hands, they disappeared and Harry felt his eyes snap open.

Except what he saw wasn't his room or the white, empty space he found himself in. It was some kind of dark room. The walls and floor were made of cobbled stone, and a single doorway was shadowed by what looked like flickering flames. In the middle of the room stood an enormous mirror, a shadow looming from its side. On the golden border was etched, Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohshi.

Harry felt confusion stir inside of him. Was this kind of obscure language wizards used? Evan was training him in Latin, a language dead to the Muggle world for centuries. He cocked his head and found himself walking forward toward the mirror. Reaching up with a trembling finger, Harry touched the inscription and whispered the words to himself.

"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohshi," he muttered. Unable to decipher the words, Harry looked forward into the mirror, expecting to see a familiar face. But instead of seeing messy black hair and startling green eyes, he saw an empty room behind him, as if he wasn't even standing in front of the mirror.

Stumbling back in shock, Harry felt himself trip over a protruding stone and fell down. He stared in horror at the lack of reflection and began to hyperventilate.

This isn't happening, he whispered desperately, rocking back and forth. This can't be happening. This isn't real. I'm not here. I'm in my room having a nightmare. I must be.

He heard a voice in the distance and he snapped his head toward the entrance into the room. Eyess widening in horror as the shadow of a man appeared by the doorway, he crawled backwards until his back hit the wall. The room was naked except for the cursed mirror and Harry had nowhere to hide.

Sitting in plain view, Harry curled himself into a ball and closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the inevitable.

The sound of heels clicking against the ground grew louder as the man entered the room. When the sound stopped, he heard a rasped whisper.

"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohshi. I show not your face but your heart's desire," the man spoke quietly, his high voice echoing softly in the room.

Harry opened his eyes in surprise. A cloaked man with a tall turban stood in front of the mirror, staring at the inscription rather than Harry.

Not willing to push his luck, but also deadly curious, Harry slowly got to his hands and knees, and shuffled a couple steps toward the man.

The man spoke again in a reedy voice. "M-my Lord!" he cried out. "We've found it! Right under Dumbledore's nose!"

Harry wondered who the man was speaking to before another voice entered the room. It hissed, almost snake like with a dangerous tone to it.

"What do you see, fool? Tell me what you see!"

"Yes Master," the man replied reverently. "I see… my reflection."

Harry choked. The man could see his reflection?

"Don't be stupid, of course you see your reflection! Get me my stone!"

"Yes, yes, of course Master," the man pleaded. He raised his wand and pointed it at the mirror. "Reducto!" he shouted.

Harry wasn't able to stifle his scream as a large crack sounded through the room and shards of class shot to the floor. He covered his mouth and stared up at the man in shock.

Yet the man acted as if he hadn't heard Harry scream. He instead was inspecting a large crack that ran from the top of the mirror to the middle, his wand waving in a series of complicated motions.

Harry's head was swimming in confusion. How could the man not see him?

Getting on his feet, Harry slowly walked forward, accidently treading on a foot full of crushed class. Wincing, Harry readied himself to hear the sound of glass breaking, but to his surprise, the glass wasn't crushed.

Something was seriously wrong.

"Master, I see no reason why this mirror is here. It shows nothing but my reflection—our reflection—I can find no secrets hidden within it."

"You are an incompetent excuse of a wizard!" The hissing voice snapped. "This is the Mirror of Erised. And that old food hid it here for a reason! Show the mirror to me."

"Master?" the man asked in shock

"Do as you are told!"

The man bent his head in concession. "Of course, my dark king," he muttered and began to unwind his turban.

Harry watched in confusion, only a couple of feet away from the man. Why would he be taking off his turban? And where was the second voice coming from?

His questions were answered when the heavy purple turban fell to the ground and he felt bile claw up his throat.

There was another face attached to the man. It was wrinkled and slightly deformed to fit on the back of the man's head.

Harry retched as the smell of rotting corpses reached his nose. The man, again, didn't notice.

"Very well, Master," he said, turning around so that the attached face could see the mirror.

Harry moved closer as well despite his turning stomach. He stood facing the man, looking right at the mirror. He could see the face attached to the back of the man's face in the mirror but he still couldn't see his own reflection.

The thin, lipless mouth moved. "Dumbledore is clever. But not even he can stop me!"

A violent hiss was spat out and eyes that glowed an eerie red flashed. The man who was seemingly possessed began to shriek loudly, his body seizing violently in the air. The thing attached on the back of head seemed to care less and began to chant louder and louder.

Harry had never been so frightened. His Uncle was nothing compared to this. Despite his instincts screaming at him to run, Harry found himself frozen to the floor. The sibilant hisses reached passed him, almost caressing his skin. They sounded like some kind of foreign language… almost akin to ancient Greek and Latin.

When the man was on his knees, straining to keep the back of his head facing the mirror, the chanting grew to the point of shouting until finally, a crack sounded through the air and a final, horrific scream sounded in the air before it was cut off by what sounded like the crack of teeth on something hard.

As the room fell silent, Harry noticed that he was screaming along with the man. Forcing himself to stop, Harry rubbed a hand against his raw throat. He stood above the fallen man, unable to do anything but watch.

The face on the back of the head spoke again in a weaker tone. "Turn us around, Quirrell."

The man—Quirrell—moaned weakly but managed to sit up.

Harry gasped in shock. In the man's bloodied mouth was a red stone. His lips were stretched widely to accommodate the stone and a piece of broken tooth clattered to the ground. The man's shoulder shook in suppressed sob and the face all but sneered.

"Swallow it."

Quirrell's eyes widened and he glanced around in shock.

The face spoke again, this time in a poisonous whisper. "Swallow it, Quirrell. Serve your Master and swallow the stone!"

The man shook his head. Blood continued to drip from the corners of his mouth and his body continued to tremble in trama.

The face gave a snarl of fury and there was a shift of magic. Suddenly, the stone began to press further into the mouth. The man began to struggle and choke in terror.

Harry felt himself draw away in horror and disgust. The touch of magic brought him to his senses and Harry dug his fingers into his palm. He waited for the webs to appear, and when they didn't, he began to panic.

Scratching his palms with his fingernails, he felt wetness appear and drip down. Blood. He had broken skin.

Falling to his knees, Harry sobbed aloud and watched as the stone was forced further and further into the man's mouth, causing teeth to crack and bones to splinter. He could see the man's tongue ripped nearly in half.

Turning his head, he dry heaved. The smell of blood was pungent in the air and hissing laughter drifted around the room.

Finally, when the stone was jammed in the throat, creating an unnatural lump in the body, the man's eyes began to bulge and roll up to his skull.

Harry sobbed in relief as the man lost consciousness, falling face down on the floor.

But as soon as he thought it was over, the body began to disintegrate, pieces of skin flaking off, followed by chunks of flesh and organs. The face on the back of the head was left untouched as it began to laugh manically.

Finally, when all was left was the head, smoke began to appear and the edges of the head began to blacken before bursting into flame.

Harry watched in horrified surprise as something black and tattered floated into the air. It seemed…oddly familiar. Almost like déjà vu, but he couldn't place it.

The spirit floated above the mess of disintegrated flesh. In the middle was the gleaming red stone, sitting atop of what could only be the leftovers of the heart.

The spirit circled around it, and embraced it. The stone began to tremble, the once bright red color darkening to the color back before it suddenly shattered, spraying the room with sharp pieces of stone.

Harry gave a yell of pain as something sharp lodged into his leg. He glanced down in surprise to see a piece of the stone protruding from his leg, causing blood to begin pooling out.

A breeze brought Harry to snap his head back up. Despite not being able to see webs of magic, Harry could see swirls of black magic rising from the shattered stone and organs, shifting and shaping into a humanoid figure.

The magic intensified and hummed, swirling and swirling until finally, the magic gave one last push and released.

Harry felt the backlash of pure dark magic and he could feel himself recoil in horror. It was dark, tainted, and beyond the norm of magic. He stared up in shock and met a pair of poppy red eyes.

A man stood in front of him in all naked glory. His body was lean and skinny, with elegant, angular features that pointed toward a pureblood ancestry. High cheekbones stuck out of the man's face, where a thin nose pointed out and thin red libs curled into a smile.

The man gave a scream of triumph before disappearing in a dark swirl.

And the room began closing in on Harry, and he began to shriek as the mirror disappeared, and the cobbled floor and walls moved closer and closer and he curled in on himself, making him smaller, smaller, smaller, closing his eyes when the cold stone touched his skin and—

He lunged upward and met the wild eyes of Evan Rosier and Lucius Malfoy.

Hope you all enjoyed that chapter! A bit gruesome but I found it necessary and morbidly fascinating to write.

All in all, I've had a god awful day too full of disappointment and I was hoping that posting this chapter would help cheer me up. Reviews are also great points of comfort, if you know what I mean.

sleepingAngeL: I think you will have to wait and see what happens between the Mother and Evan (; I'm glad to see you're looking forward to all of that and I promise you that you will not be disappointed! Things will start clearing up soon. Thank you so much for the review!

Insanely-Yours96: Yes, Harry will definitely become independent with his own beliefs as he grows older. I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but Harry will not become some mindless, torturing slave to the Dark side. The compulsion has its pull but as Harry grows stronger, things will change.

jebbus132: Interesting, I thought I came up with this idea myself ack do you know which story this was? PM it to me! Thank you for pointing that out though.

I would also like to point out that this is a nonbashing story (I don't bash). Aka Dumbledore will NOT be a bad guy in this story because while he may be depicted as a slightly manipulative figure in the books, I still believe he had good intentions at heart. Of course, he will not be a good Samaritan but he will also not be the villain.

Thanks for reading and please leave some comments! Brightens my day every time!