Harry's feet felt like lead as he slowly descended the staircase, his scar searing with pain as he inched closer to Professor Quirrell. He stood before a large mirror, its ivory frame and golden accents accented by flickering candlelight. Harry froze in recognition.
"You?" he said cautiously. Quirrell turned to meet his gaze, a sinister smirk playing on his lips, and spoke softly, his stutter pronounced.
"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he? Next to him, who would suspect poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell?"
He twisted his fingers together in anticipation as Harry recalled the events of the Quidditch match-Snape trying to kill him.
"But-but that day, during the Quidditch match, Snape tried to kill me," said Harry quietly.
From the moon above, Artemis looked down upon her son in silent judgment. "My son," she murmured fondly, "you have much to learn."
Quirrell's eyes glinted with malicious glee as he declared, "No, dear boy. I tried to kill you!" Harry gaped in disbelief and confusion, remembering the sudden burst of flame that had stopped Quirrell's curse just in time.
"And trust me, if Snape's cloak hadn't caught fire and broken my eye contact, I would have succeeded. Even with Snape muttering his little countercurse," said Quirrell.
"Snape was trying to save me?" said Harry incredulously.
Quirrell nodded. "I knew you were a danger to me right from the off. Especially after Halloween," he said knowingly.
Harry gasped as realization dawned on him. "Then-then you let the troll in!" he exclaimed.
Quirrell smiled cruelly. "Very good, Potter, yes. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. While everyone else was running about the dungeon, he went to the third floor to head me off. He never trusted me again after that night—he rarely left me alone when we were both at Hogwarts—but he doesn't understand. I'm never alone. Never." With these words, Quirrell turned back towards the Mirror of Erised and Harry winced as his scar burned again.
Staring into the mirror, Quirrell asked in a quavering voice, "Now, what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the Stone. But how do I get it?"
An unseen inhuman voice echoed around them. "Use the boy." Harry looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from.
Turning to Harry, Quirrell said firmly, "Come here, Potter! Now!"
Harry slowly descended the stairs, his heart pounding like a drum within his chest. He stopped when he reached the bottom of the stairs and faced Quirrell and the mirror. "Tell me, what do you see?" Quirrell commanded.
Harry looked into the mirror and saw himself standing next to Quirrell. Then his reflection grabbed its pocket and pulled out a gleaming red ruby - The Philosopher's Stone. His reflection smiled and winked at him before putting it back in its pocket. Harry felt his own pocket only to discover that the Stone was indeed in there. He looked up again with wonderment in his eyes.
Quirrell glanced furtively at Harry, his pallid face twisted into an expression of barely contained frustration.
"What is it?" he said, gruffly. "What do you see?"
Harry peered steadily into the mirror, trying to ignore Quirrell's impatient questioning and determined not to reveal that he had the Stone.
"I—I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore," he said feebly. "I've won the House Cup."
"He lies!" a voice resounded through the room, inhuman yet familiar. "Tell the truth! What do you see?"
Quirrell jumped back in surprise, and dread filled the air as his gaze shifted from Harry to the staircase. He seemed ready to flee if necessary. The voice spoke again: "Let me speak to him."
"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell protested, but he turned away from the mirror, nonetheless, slowly unwrapping his turban as he did so. Harry's eyes followed him, wondering whether this was his chance to escape unnoticed. Finally, Quirrell removed the remaining piece of fabric, revealing a chalk-white face beneath—Voldemort himself! He craned around and opened his eyes, staring down at Harry like a vulture sizing up its prey.
"Harry Potter," he hissed. "We meet again." A chill ran down Harry's spine as he realized who it was standing before him.
"Voldemort!" he spat out furiously.
The Dark Lord's mouth curled upwards in a wicked smirk as he gestured to himself. "Do you see what I've become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another. A mere parasite." His tone became almost pleading as he continued: "Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can—something that conveniently enough lies in your pocket..."
Panicking, Harry spun around and sprinted up the stairs. As he reached the top, he felt an unfamiliar presence enter his mind—a female voice filled with kind reassurance. "My child, you must take control of yourself and destroy the stone. Voldemort cannot touch you, but you can touch him," she said.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, fear lacing his words.
"When this school year has ended, you will know," Artemis replied.
Voldemort roared in anger. "Stop him!"
Quirrell snapped his fingers and firewalls blocked off all the exits, trapping Harry in the room.
"Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me and live?" Voldemort taunted.
"Never!" yelled Harry defiantly.
A cruel laughter echoed from Voldemort's lips as he said, "Ahhh bravery. Your parents had it too. Tell me, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together we can bring them back".
Harry stood frozen in shock until Artemis spoke again from the moon. "Harry don't be fooled by him! Your mother lives on—you will find out how. Destroy the Stone!" she pleaded.
In the mirror, Harry's parents appeared in the reflection and then slowly faded. Voldemort stood in the place of his parents and said, "All I ask for is something in return."
Harry reached into his pocket to take out the Stone as he prepared to make a deal with Voldemort. However, as soon as Voldemort spoke the words, "There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it", James and Lily Potter vanished from the reflection.
Angered by the illusion of being betrayed by his parents, Harry yelled, "You liar!"
Voldemort's eyes widened with rage as he shouted at Quirrell, "Kill him!"
Under orders, Quirrell rose in the air and grasped Harry tightly around his neck. They both fell onto the steps below as the Stone tumbled away from their reach. Quirrell's hands tightened around Harry's throat and began to choke him. Gasping for breath, Harry strained against Quirrell's grip before putting his hand on top of Quirrell's hand. Smoke furls from under Harry's hand as Quirrell winces.
Quirrell stumbled back, his hand crumbling into ash and dust. He cried out in horror, "What is this magic?" Voldemort's voice echoed inside Quirrell's head, ordering him to seize the Stone.
With a fierce determination, Harry reached out and touched Quirrell's cheek with his hands causing Quirrell to scream in agony. Voldemort winced from within Quirrell as Harry watched on in shock at the sight of Quirrell's face horrendously burned. Quirrell stumbled backwards, turning completely into ash before collapsing onto the ground - nothing more than a pile of clothing.
Heart racing, Harry grabbed the Stone and let out a deep sigh of relief. Suddenly, dust clouds formed from Quirrell's corpse behind him, taking on the shape of Voldemort's face as they rushed forward screaming towards Harry, who screamed in terror as he was engulfed by the black mist. Voldemort attempted to flee but was flung away by an invisible force erupting from Harry as he dropped to the floor. In his outstretched hand lay the Stone which shattered into dust particles just as darkness crept over him and he fell unconscious.
The day Harry finishes his first year at Hogwarts, something strange occurs in the celestial plane. Artemis, the Goddess of the Moon, starts to track Harry as he makes his way home to 4 Privet Drive. Her eyes, gleaming like silver crescents, follow his every move from the moon in the sky.
"Boy, cupboard now!" Vernon Dursley's voice thunders through the house, the harshness of the order ringing in Harry's ears.
Vernon's face is twisted in rage as he grabs Harry by the neck, his fingers digging painfully into Harry's skin. With a rough shove, he locks the boy in the cupboard under the stairs.
The darkness in the cramped space is almost comforting to Harry, but his mind is restless. 'What was that voice that helped me when I was facing Quirrell?' he thinks, his mind whirling with confusion and fear.
Meanwhile, Artemis flashes outside the house. Her divine form glows with a bright silvery light, and she gathers lunar energy around the palm of her hand. With a determined look in her eyes, she sends the energy crashing into the door, which shatters under the force.
Entering the house, Artemis sees Petunia gasp, her face turning pale and her eyes widening in shock.
"No, you are dead...the letter.. said you... died," stammers Petunia, her voice trembling.
"Where is my son?" demands Artemis, her voice resonating with a power that sends shivers down Petunia's spine. Her eyes glow silver, reflecting the unyielding strength of her determination.
"Get out of my house, you freak!" yells Vernon, his voice hoarse with terror as he charges at the goddess with a shotgun, his face contorted with fury.
With a casual wave of her hand, Artemis transforms Vernon into a jackalope. His terrified scream is cut off as his body morphs into the mythical creature.
"Let me ask again, where is my son?" demands Artemis, her voice like ice.
Petunia, now in tears, points to the cupboard behind the stairs. Artemis strides over to the cupboard and, with a mere flick of her wrist, shatters the door.
Her heart pounding, Artemis looks at Harry for the first time in almost 11 years. His silver eyes, so much like her own, go wide. "Mum, but how? They said you died nearly 11 years ago."
"Yes, Harry, it's me," says Artemis, her voice soft and full of longing. "I will explain everything. Get packed; you will never come back here ever again."
Harry quickly packs everything he owns, which is not much, and meets Artemis outside.
Outside, Artemis looks at Harry with tenderness. "Harry, before we begin, let me formally introduce myself," she says, her voice filled with love and pride. "I am Artemis, Goddess of nature, vegetation, childbirth, wildlife, the hunt, sudden death, animals, virginity, young women, forests and hills, the moon, archery."
Harry's eyes widen as he takes in her words. He stammers, "But how... I was told my mother was Lily Potter, née Fairchild."
Artemis's smile softens as she reaches out and gently brushes a lock of hair from his forehead. "Let me tell you a story, my dear son," she says.
"Okay," Harry replies, curiosity piquing.
"Do you know what Ancient laws are?" Artemis asks, her voice turning more solemn.
"No," Harry replies, shaking his head.
"Ancient laws are laws that all divine beings have to follow," Artemis explains, her voice filled with grave wisdom. "In 1959, I broke several of these laws. I will not tell you how or what I did because the end result is the same. I was punished and punished harshly. I was turned into a mortal; my divine powers and memories sealed, and was forced to live an entire mortal life from birth to death."
Harry's mouth falls open as he listens, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what she's saying.
"My essence was transferred to the body of Lily Fairchild, a prominent member of a Shadowhunter family, and twin sister of Jocelyn Fairchild, younger sister of Petunia Fairchild," Artemis continues, her voice filled with a hidden pain. "Of the three, I was the most gifted. I was able to use both Mundane magic and Angelic Runes, making me both a shadow hunter and a witch. While my twin sister was only able to use Angelic runes, making her a shadow hunter, our older sister was not able to use mundane magic nor Angelic runes, making her mundane."
Harry's mind whirls with the information, feeling both astonished and strangely connected to this new revelation.
"You are special, Harry," Artemis says, her voice filled with a mother's love. "Not only are you a demigod and my firstborn child, but you are also a Wizard and a Shadow hunter. But you need training, and you need to receive your first rune, the voyance rune. It will allow you to enhance and focus, giving you extrasensory perception, and allowing you to see contemporary events beyond their sight, past concealment, such as a glamour. What is your dominant hand?"
"I am ambidextrous, but I mostly use my left hand," Harry says, still reeling from the revelations.
Artemis's eyes sparkle with pride as she grabs Harry's left hand. With a stele, she carves the voyance rune on the back of Harry's hand. The sensation is both painful and exhilarating, and Harry feels a surge of power course through him.
"Harry, I need to flash you to my camp, and I will have you get looked over by Atalanta and Sophia before I take you to Camp Half-Blood. I will claim you officially at your first dinner. Please, until then, keep silent about me being your divine mother. Understood?"
Harry looks into his mother's eyes, a newfound understanding and connection blossoming within him. "Yes, Mum," he says, his voice filled with determination and affection.
"Good," Artemis whispers, her voice breaking with emotion as she embraces her son.
Artemis grabs Harry by his shoulders and, with a dazzling flash of light, transports him to her camp. The sudden change in surroundings leaves Harry momentarily disoriented. His eyes are wide as they dart from one strange sight to another. He's standing in a forest clearing, bathed in the ethereal glow of what appears to be a hidden encampment.
At the camp, two girls with blonde hair and striking yellow eyes bow to the goddess. They are identical in appearance, and their beauty is unearthly. They are garbed in white robes, and their movements are fluid and graceful.
"Sofia, Atalanta, this is Harry," Artemis introduces, her voice filled with pride and a touch of sadness. "He is my son, the same one I have been looking for the past 11 years. I want you to give him a full check-up. I want to know the full extent of his injuries, and I want that dark artifact removed from his scar," she commands.
"It will be done, my lady," the girls reply in unison, their voices as melodious as a song.
"Harry, these are Atalanta and Sofia. They are daughters of Apollo," Artemis explains, gesturing toward the twins. "I want you to follow them because I want to know the full extent of your injuries that were a result of your stay at the Dursleys."
"Yes, Mum," Harry says, still reeling from everything but trusting the goddess's calm demeanour.
He follows the girls to the medical tent, feeling a growing sense of trepidation. The tent, however, is unlike any he's ever seen. It's filled with glowing crystals and strange instruments that look more magical than medical.
When Harry arrives inside, the girls inject him with a sedative. His limbs grow heavy, and his vision blurs as he falls asleep.
They cut his shirt, revealing his abdomen filled with scars of all types, most of them intersecting with each other. Atalanta lets out a gasp when she sees his scars, her yellow eyes widening in horror.
Sofia rushes out of the tent, and she returns a few minutes later with Artemis. The goddess's face is a mask of fury, her eyes blazing with divine wrath.
"The Dursleys will pay for this long term. I will watch as all that they worked for gets destroyed," she sneers, her voice dripping with venom.
"Atalanta, I need you to take pictures and then try to heal as many scars as you can," she commands, her voice softening slightly as she looks at Harry's unconscious form.
"Yes, Milady," Atalanta responds, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and compassion.
"Sofia," Artemis continues, "Try to get the soul shard removed from his forehead."
Sofia nods and begins to work, her hands glowing with a golden light. The process is delicate and dangerous, for the shard is not merely embedded in Harry's flesh but entwined with his very soul.
The next hours are filled with meticulous care and magic as the daughters of Apollo heal and examine Harry. Artemis watches, her eyes never leaving her son, her mind plotting vengeance.
Atalanta's expression was one of deep concern as she looked at Harry, her fingers brushing his cold forehead. The shimmering fragment embedded there was a clear sign of dark magic, a fragment of a torn soul. "My lady," she murmured, her voice heavy with unease, "we cannot remove the soul shard from his forehead. Its magic is deeply intertwined with the world of the dead. We need someone who holds a connection with the underworld."
Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and the wilderness, nodded solemnly. "Wait here," she instructed. Without another word, she swiftly exited the tent, her silver robes billowing behind her.
The tent was filled with a heavy silence as Atalanta waited, glancing around the dimly lit space. The gentle hum of nature outside was in stark contrast to the tension within. When Artemis returned, she was not alone. Behind her walked a young woman with a striking appearance. Her skin was a warm shade of tan, and her hair, silky and dark, cascaded down her back. But it was her eyes that caught Atalanta's attention - they were as dark as a moonless night and seemed to hold the mysteries of the universe within them.
Kassandra, as she was known, wasted no time. Her gaze locked onto Harry and the cursed mark on his forehead. Taking confident strides, she approached him. Her voice was laced with anger as she spoke, "It seems Herpo the Foul has earned even greater wrath from my father. No mortal should ever dare commit such an abomination. It's an affront to my father's name."
Artemis raised an eyebrow, her silver eyes reflecting her confusion. "Herpo the Foul?" she queried. "But we believed the soul shard to be the work of Voldemort."
Kassandra sighed, "It seems Herpo the Foul was deceitful once again. He assured my father that he had eradicated all knowledge pertaining to the dark art of soul-splitting, but clearly, he lied. Voldemort must have stumbled upon some remnants of this forbidden magic."
Artemis's voice held a hint of desperation, "Kassandra, can you do to this shard what you did with the cursed artifacts from Herpo the Foul? Can you remove it?"
Kassandra gave a determined nod. "Yes, I can. But after this, it would be wise to inform my father about Voldemort's audacity."
Artemis placed a gentle hand on Kassandra's shoulder. "I promise," she said, her voice soft yet firm, "I will speak to Lord Hades about this matter once the shard is removed."
Kassandra touched the scar. Harry started squirming in his sleep. A black mist formed and eventually took shape, becoming a dark silhouette of Voldemort—but without the piece of his soul missing from his chest. The hole didn't yield when you looked into it; rather, it was an absence that sucked at you with the force of a hurricane.
Voldemort glared at Kassandra with hatred, his wand extending menacingly. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
Kassandra stared into Voldemort's eyes without fear. She spoke in a low but certain voice. "You will be brought to the Underworld where you will await punishment for all your atrocities against both humans and gods alike."
Voldemort sneered derisively. "Who do you think you are, you pathetic mud-blood? You are nothing to me! I am a god!" he declared arrogantly.
The Goddess Artemis stepped forward, her silver eyes flashing dangerously as a silver light crackled around her body. Her voice boomed like thunder throughout the landscape. "No, you are a mere mortal," she said firmly. "I am Artemis – Goddess of the Moon, Hunt, and many other things - and yet you have dared to anger the true gods?"
Kassandra reached into a small leather pouch and removed a black, obsidian dagger with a curved blade. The wicked knife was cold to the touch as she used it to slice into the mist's thin skin. Suddenly, the gray wisps of fog swirled and sputtered as they were sucked down into the dark abyss until there was nothing left. "Gotta love Stygian Iron" she muttered.
Harry groggily opened his eyes and found Artemis standing over him. He rubbed the sleep away from his vision and tried to make sense of what was happening.
"Mum, what happened?" he asked, still in a daze.
She sighed as her gaze drifted to Harry's forehead. "We removed a soul fragment from your forehead and healed most of your scars," she explained. "We also removed several blocks on your magic—a metamorphmagus block, a 20 percent core block, a block on mind magic."
A spark of understanding lit up Harry's eyes as he processed her words.
Harry sighed heavily, his expression a mix of relief and despair. "Ohh," he murmured.
"Harry, so how are you feeling?" Artemis asked.
He balled his hands into fists at his sides, eyes smouldering with rage. "Like I could throw Dudley across a football field."
Artemis clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. I am going to take you outside of camp, I am going to formally claim you, but first I need to smooth things over with a few gods, so they won't outright kill you. It may not be today, but it will be this week. Understand?"
Harry nodded solemnly, and Artemis smiled reassuringly. "Good. I'll contact you when you fall asleep."
Artemis grabbed Harry's shoulder, and with a flash of light, they were suddenly standing on a hilltop with a tall, majestic pine tree rising ahead. Artemis pointed toward the pine tree, "Cross that border and you'll be at Camp."
Harry stepped forward and felt the strange force of the magical boundary as he passed through it. On the other side stood a girl his age, her golden-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, her icy blue eyes framed by high cheekbones. She wore a black knee-length skirt and a crisp white shirt.
"Potter?" she asked.
A/N this fic from today forward will be my Friday upload, PTATF will be my Monday upload.
Please review.