An: This is the final amount of progress that I made in November as part of Nano wrimo, but I still plan to continue to the story while getting back to my other big story. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 7

After dinner all the teachers retired to the staff room except for the extremely introverted or alcoholics in the case of Trelawney. The main topic was where was Nicholas Flamel? But the question was immediately answered when they found him in the headmaster's armchair in front of the fireplace.

"I'm glad you all joined me so quickly," the alchemist said putting aside a cup of tea. "I didn't want to have this conversation in front of the children."

Voldemort was quite amused as he heard Severus Snape mutter under his breathe, "That didn't stop you from sending the howler." Snape had always had a sadistic sense of humor, which was all the more fitting with his dark personality. The rest of the teachers precariously arranged themselves around the room, but more than half looked as though a strongly said word would send them running.

"When I lent you my philosopher's stone for the year to pay back my debt to you, I thought you were going to experiment with the elixir as a potions ingredient. Or maybe you need a large amount of gold for a project for the school. I did not expect you to be using it as bait for the most recent Dark Lord, Albus," Flamel said working his way up to yelling. The muggle studies professor was practically shaking behind the planet that kept her from the alchemist's sight.

"I needed to know," Albus said in his sickly honorable voice. The depth and emotion was filled with so much of Albus's honor that Voldemort knew exactly what line was going to come next. "… for the greater good."

"I would have thought you learned the horror those words can imply with Grindlewald, Albus. It doesn't do you any favors to go throwing around his favorite phrase as you try to get your way," Flamel said shooting the headmaster down easily. Voldemort was practically ecstatic; someone else was finally taking note of Dumbledore's hypocrisy. He wished someone like Flamel had been around when he had been in school; he might have even taken another path.

"The stone was quite well protected, Nicholas," the headmaster said ignoring any mention of the defeated dark lord that had earned him his acclaim.

"Albus," the alchemist said with distain, "a randomly passing first year was able to tell me exactly where you were hiding the stone, what was being hidden, and even the first line of defense. I'm surprised you haven't been fired by the board of governors for child endangerment, having a Cerberus separated from a school full of curious children by a measly looking charm."

"The defenses were quite complex …" Dumbledore protested futilely, "only someone pure of heart could get the stone."

"Well it seems like your dark lord is pure after all. I never understood why you black balled him from politics. He had no other way to oppose your method than force, you were just asking for a civil war," the alchemist said. He seemed fit to continue dressing for a civil war," the alchemist said. He seemed fit to continue dressing the headmaster down for his faults and mistakes. But before he could continue the headmaster dismissed the staff back to their duties.

Voldemort couldn't have been more pleased. He was trailing behind the teachers as they started to drift away when he heard Snape finally snap. It started with a snort that turned into a dark chuckle that ended in full fledged laughter that was almost haunting.

"What is so funny Severus?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Snape quickly gained control of himself to answer back, "Did you see Albus's face as Flamel got going. After all those time of his bringing up our childhood mistakes, there is finally someone to bring up his. It seems he finally was repaid with his own kind of medicine."

Voldemort couldn't agree more.

Voldemort had been waiting for only a hour when the alchemist made his way into his personal quarters. Flamel's magic had been braced to tear down his words, but he had already lowered them in preparation for this visit.

"It seems you have been expecting me," Flamel commented as he entered the brightly lit rooms. Voldemort poured tea for his quest. He might not have known quite what to do with the six-hundred year old wizard, but he thought following Harry's advice would be the most appropriate. He didn't need another powerful enemy.

"I have been," Voldemort confessed. "I didn't presume. I could hide my possession of Quirell from an experienced wizard such as yourself."

Flamel's confusion was visible in his eyes for only a split second. But its presence gave the dark lord hope for the negotiation he wanted to make with Nicholas Flamel. "You might not have hidden the possession from me, but the stone seems to have vanished as if it had been destroyed. But logically you have a need for it so I am at a lose."

"I happen to need it for a ritual to make a body for myself. Afterwards I would be willing to return it to you," Voldemort stated, Quirell's eyes glowing blood red.

"It seems you have cursed yourself in the eyes of magic young lord. Albus's tale of the stone requiring a pure soul seems to be a myth."

"No," Voldemort replied to the curiosity in the alchemist's voice. "I did not gain the stone alone. The warding scene was quite clever, it had a built in activation based on the amount of time someone spent inside the wards. It required someone with my helper was required to overcome Dumbledore's enchantment of the mirror of Erised."

"Thank you for sating my curiosity," Flamel stated before his tone turned cold. "Now, what would you like in return for returning my property?"

"I would ask a vow that you would not help Dumbledore in his opposition of me, and not seek retribution against me for my use of it. And for my assistant I would request your skills as a teacher, for my assistant is a budding ritualist wanting to learn Olde Magic."

"I had thought you insane Lord Voldemort, but that seems a practically fair bargain," the alchemist said in surprise.

"I might be," Lord Voldemort admitted, something he would probably never tell another soul. "In my own path learning Olde Magic I came upon a ritual I performed too many time and it seemed to strip me of my control. But time as a spirit and possessing a willing wizard has given me a fraction of that skill and control back. And my assistant will help me make peace with magic. I still hold hope to bring about my earliest goals."

Nicholas took a sip of the tea he had so far ignored. In the early days when Lord Voldemort was known by his true name of Tom Riddle, he had seen a hope for magic. Nicholas knew the restraints around the world were slowly limiting magic down to the most basic levels. If it continued within two of three wizarding generation the knowledge would be lost in all but the strictest pureblood families. But in their fight to retain the magic of old they were breeding themselves out of existence. In maybe even 400-years, magic would no longer exist in society. Muggleborns would get the gift but not know how to do anything with it. Either that or the muggles would find out about magic. Neither path was something he wanted for magic, but the Dark Lord in front of him had previously lost his way. Who knew what he would do after his resurrection? Not that he could stop him, since he couldn't find the stone to retrieve of destroy it.

"Then if you continue to stray from your path as you did before, I will take action, otherwise … I'll expect the stone within the month," the alchemist said agreeing to the bargain. "One more question before I leave you to your work. Who is your assistant?"

Voldemort chuckled in reply, "Harry Potter."

The next day class proceeded as normal for Harry, so much so that he was so on edge that he was relieved when he finally had defense with Professor Quirrell. The only unexpected change had been Nicholas Flamel sitting at the teacher's table for both breakfast and lunch. Harry didn't know if he was still looking for his breakfast and lunch. Harry didn't know if he was still looking for his stone or whether he was waiting for something else. Hopefully his savior would answer some of those questions, as well as start to provide his protection to Harry after class.

Harry was so distracted he didn't notice Professor Quirrell asking him a question until Hermione kicked him in the shins. He hadn't even noticed he was sitting next to her, or more accurately that she had sat down next to him. "I see you are having trouble paying attention in class today, Mr. Potter. Detention, stay after to hear the details." And then the professor continued on with his lesson about Doxies.

Anticipation completely distracted Harry, so much so that he didn't even notice Ron and Hermione staying back as well. But Professor Quirrell curtly waved them away. "Meet me in my office after dinner at 8 o'clock. You should have a clear idea of what you need to talk to me about."

Harry nodded, satisfied that his fears for the summer were going to be dealt with soon. As he exited the classroom he was immediately confronted by Ron and Hermione waiting for him.

"Harry," Hermione stated, as they started back to the dorms. "Ron and I are worried about you. You've been avoiding us lately and we want to know why."

"Yeah mate," Ron but in, "and why you've been getting angry at us lately, too."

Harry sighed knowing he wouldn't be able to avoid this conversation at all. It wasn't even that he wanted to drive his friends away; it's just that now that he knew them better they had so many areas of conflict that he doubled the friendship would last. Harry knew that as his outlook on the magical world became more practical, his previous actions and beliefs which aligned with his friend became unrealistic and foolish. "I haven't been avoiding you particularly, I just haven't been spending all my time with you," Harry said.

"But we used to do it, so you must be avoiding us," Ron was always so straightforward, stagnant and stale.

"What do you think I'm doing when I'm not with you guys? It's not like I'm going on adventures or anything exciting," Harry said. He decided to ignore the fact that making a magical vow to his unknown savior would probably lead him down a road of deception, lies and probably adventures. Being their when his savior stole the stone had been very impressive, but he wouldn't actually call it an adventure since he wasn't the one overcoming all the obstacles. Well, maybe he was lying to them a little bit, but any of his outside adventures only took up as little as five percent of the time he didn't spend with them.

"I generally read and write in my journal, or go to the library Hermione does that all the time without taking us with her."

"I don't like going to the library," Ron said stating the obvious.

Hermione sighed, sometimes Ron was so thick. "Speaking of your journal why are you keeping it so secret. I tried to read it the other day but I couldn't even open it."

"It's a family bound object that I work on because keeping a journal is part of my family values," Harry replied. "That was really rude of you to try and read it without asking me first. I wouldn't try to read your diary if you left it out."

"But I want to know what you're writing about," Hermione declared as if her wants and desires gave her license to other people's private property or information. Harry cringed internally, that right there was the reason so many people didn't like Hermione. She felt that he ability to learn new things quickly and remember it gave her the right to learn any information she desired. He was pretty sure that her parents had always indulged her quest to learn more and rewarded it with more knowledge on whatever she wanted.

"Hermione, whenever I talk about the stuff I write in my journal you disregard it immediately. You say that its foolish, made up or just a fairy tale. So I didn't talk about it with you anymore. Why would I want to share my opinion with you when you completely ignore it? If you only disagreed we could debate why we thought different things. "Harry finally just walked away from his friends.

Harry entered Professor Quirrell's office two minutes early. He had the general opinion that his savior wanted things done precisely as describes and on time. Harry had only made the mistake once with a detention with Snape, not that he wanted or planned to be late but rather that Ron had held him up.

Professor Quirrell looked up and with a wave of his wand closed the door and activated something. Harry couldn't tell exactly what it was but he felt the magic sweep over him. "Good, you're on time. Now we make a deal, and while I know that you were desperate, it's time that you tell me why. Particularly after you saw me do something so horrible, due to my own desperation."

"I can't go back to my relative this summer. You might have realized that they are religious, but it's much worse than that," Harry explained. "I think the only thing that has kept me safe from my uncle was how invested I appeared to be in Christianity. He is a fanatic, and while you might think I just grew up in a religious family, it is much more deeply seated. I don't know when my Aunt told my Uncle about magic when they were dating or after they got married. But he developed an undying hatred for magic, calling anything related to it freakish and considering it a corruption."

"The only books I have ever been allowed to read were about Christianity. I wasn't allowed to know anything about magic despite the fact that they punished me for even outburst, enforced fasting, cold showers, and uncomfortable sleeping conditions. I lived almost like a monk of the 12th century."

"I need to find you somewhere to live this summer?" Voldemort asked incredulous.

"Exactly," Harry replied. "I inquired about a magical orphanage and researched about my closest relatives. I even considered just not going back since I have the money to take care of myself, but Dumbledore straight out told me he would make me go back to my relatives."

Voldemort was shocked at how familiar this tale was, it was his tale. His first year he had devoted as much time as he could to make sure he never had to go back to the orphanage. And now his so called prophesized enemy was standing in front of him trying to solve the same problem. They even had the same enemy trying to force them back into dangerous circumstances. But Dumbledore was a much more dangerous adversary now to Harry then he had ever been to first year Tom Riddle. Dumbledore needed his hero, and could do anything to keep him under control.

"Your closest relatives are?"

"The Malfoy's. Andromeda Tonks would be considered an equally strong connection except she was disowned," Harry replied.

"Then it seems that your only other option is an apprenticeship," Voldemort said. He hadn't learned about the practice until his third year, but had never found someone he trusted with power over himself as required by the contract After Hogwarts he had had many informal apprenticeships, but they were quite different than one that could enable a master to gain guardianship of an underage wizard.

"An apprenticeship?" the boy asks, "with you?"

"It would probably need to be myself but that would certainly create a great many problems." Responding to the questioning look Voldemort went into the technicalities. "An apprenticeship for it to be legal requires a magical contract my true name would be required, and then subsequently recognized when Dumbledore investigated me as he would do for any master you could take."

"Why does he care so much? And … what it your name?"

"You are a weapon to him, a prophesied weapon. The prophesized weapon against the Dark Lord Voldemort, myself. "Voldemort stated observing in excrutiating detail the boy's expression as his identity was made clear. The boys face remembered the vow between them. His expression was almost fully twisted into anger when he did the most surprising thing, he laughed.

Voldemort couldn't contain his inherent dislike of laughter he did not understand or thought was at himself. "What do you find so amusing?" he asked somewhat cruelly.

The boy finally managed a deep breath replied, "My aunt did tell me to do whatever it took to not go back, even make a deal with the devil. It seems that for once I followed her advice."

Harry barely contained his ironic and dark laughter, but his teacher, no, the dark lord seemed to understand. Harry was still extraordinarily angry with the wizard in front of him. The wizard had killed his parents and destroyed his chance of a happy childhood. Why did you kill them?" Harry asked. "Did it have anything to do with the prophecy you mentioned?"

"Exactly," Voldemort said approvingly, while Harry was practically twisting himself apart. For an instant he had been pleased that someone thought that he was smart, but this man should be the last person who he should seek approval from. "A follower of mine overheard half a prophecy foretelling my defeat at your hands; it seems to have already occurred. Your parents had gone into hiding since Dumbledore heard the prophecy in its entirety. But the person they entrusted with the secret of their hiding place was a follower of mine. So I attacked their home. Your father went down in a blaze of glory, or that's how a Gryffindor would see it. Your mother I offered the chance to step aside not once but three times, but she refused to let you be hurt in front of her. She sacrificed herself for you, which was what allowed your temporary defeat of me."

Harry's voice was weak when he finally asked the last question. "Why did you offer to let her live?" His emotions were running wild within him. His parent's murderer was one of the first people to actually tell him about his parents other than Hagrid. He hadn't realized how little that he truly knew about them or the circumstances of their death until that moment.

"The follower you brought me the prophecy had earned a boon and upon realizing which families were in danger of fulfilling the prophecy used it to protect your mother." Responding to the desperate longing for understanding the dark lord continued, "He had been childhood friend with your mother and despite their falling out late in their years at Hogwarts he continued to care for her.'

"But not my father or me," Harry stated honing in on the apparent selfishness of the request.

"Potter," Voldemort replied, "your father was one of my greatest enemies at the time. We were at war. And logically he could never presume to tell me what to do with a threat against myself or the cause he had sworn himself to. So he asked for something he greatly wanted, risking his own life to try and save your mother."

"You would have killed someone who was fighting for you?"

"Absolutely," Voldemort replied, "at any hint of betrayal. I … had lost my way, my reason, my control or whatever you would call it many years before your birth. My defeat at your hands might have even saved magic."

"You were fighting for magic?" Harry asked surprised.

"In every form and shape, "Voldemort replied.