Oh my, that last cliffhanger was evil. Sorry folks, I didn't realize I'd be gone this long. But here it is, the last installment for the first book. Should I continue in this thread, or start another for summer and second year? I'm probably just going to continue, as I don't really feel like coming up with more titles. Enjoy. –RG-
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter," the man said. "I did not think you capable of getting through that last one." Harry stood stunned for a moment before he found his voice.
"Colt helped me," he admitted. "Why are you here?" Harry stared down his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher incredulously, not believing it was he who was after the stone.
"Are you daft, dear boy? I wish to obtain the Sorcerer's Stone!" He whirled around, facing a mirror Harry recognized all too well. "But how do I get it?" he shouted at the Mirror of Erised. Harry watched as Quirrell searched around frantically, as if the mirror itself had the stone within. Harry stole a few seconds to look around the empty stone chamber. Columns lined the walls, though they were more for decoration than function. Marble steps ascended behind him, leading back the way he had come. There was no door on the other side, so Harry surmised this chamber held the stone. But where? He saw no locked container, no guarded imprisonment for the precious stone. Suddenly, a disembodied voice rang through the chamber, chilling Harry's bones.
"Use the child," it said, "He will obtain it for us." Harry took one step back, up the steps, before Quirrell spun around.
"Get over here, now, Potter!" Harry stayed rooted to the spot, but Quirrell strode over and grabbed him roughly by the collar. He fought back, using all his strength to fight his professor. His mind thought back to his uncle's teachings when he was younger, should he ever be accosted by a stranger in Diagon Alley. He began kicking and screaming violently before dropping all of his weight to the ground. Quirrell, having been caught off guard by the sudden weight he held up, dropped the boy. Harry scrambled backwards and pulled his wand, getting to his feet quickly. Quirrell merely smirked and drew his own wand.
"Do not harm him," the voice called again. Without warning, Quirrell shot a disarming charm at Harry, depriving him of his wand. Then he cast a levitation spell, forcing Harry into the air and in front of the mirror. Before he was freed of the charm, Harry felt himself be rooted to the spot. He gazed in the mirror, expecting to see his parents once again. But instead, he saw only himself. His mirror-self reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. The stone! Harry watched his mirror-self replace the stone in his pocket, and a small bulge formed in Harry's own. Knowing now where Dumbledore had hidden the stone, he continued to watch the mirror.
"Well!" his teacher's impatient voice filled his ears. "What do you see?" Harry quickly thought up a lie, and hoped it was good enough.
"I…I see myself, standing with my parents," Not a total lie, he thought. "They're pushing me on a swing." Quirrell seemed to buy it for a moment, before the disembodied voice rang out once more.
"He lies!" Harry turned and bolted, but flames shot up around the stairs, blocking his exit. "Let me speak to the boy."
"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell protested.
"Do not defy me!" the voice yelled out, and Quirrell flinched. Carefully he began to unwrap the turban on his head, and when it was completely off, Harry gazed at the reflection in the mirror.
The most hideous thing he'd ever seen stared back at him, smirking evilly from the other side of Quirrell's head. Quirrell seemed to be slightly disturbed at the parasitic creature attached to his head, but he knew he had no other choice. "Hello, Mr. Potter."
"Voldemort," Harry whispered, and Quirrell flinched. The face on the back of his head nodded slightly, tilting Quirrell's head.
"Yes, you see what I've become. A parasite, forced to live off another," it hissed.
"What about the unicorn blood?" Harry wondered aloud, trying to distract the wizard long enough for help to arrive.
"It sustained me for a while, but I soon realized I had to turn to other…resources to ensure my survival. My most faithful are always eager to serve me, to help me when I'm in need. I would allow you to do the same, Harry." Harry shook his head in disbelief. "You would be my equal, Harry, not my servant. Together, Harry, you and I will do marvelous things. I can make your deepest desire come true. But in order for me to help you, you must help me." Harry unconsciously reached for his pocket, and the face smiled. "That's it, Harry. All I need is that elixir, and you and I can begin our alliance."
Harry paused, thinking about the man's offer. Voldemort could bring Harry's parents back; that was no lie. Resurrection was a dark art indeed. But Harry knew if he sided with the dark wizard, there would be nothing but death and destruction.
"You are a liar! All you do is kill!" Harry turned around and made for the flames, but something took him down from behind. He turned to see Quirrell on top of him. Not bothering to wonder how the man had reached him so quickly, he reached out and stopped the man from getting a good hold around his neck. He rolled to his side, effectively pinning the stone between him and the floor. His hand found Quirrell's and a sizzling sound could be heard echoing through the chamber. Quirrell jumped up, holding his now-dissolving hand out in front of him.
"What's happening, Master?" he cried out.
"Fool!" Voldemort yelled, "Get him!" Quirrell moved forward, but Harry had already formulated a plan. Faster than he'd ever moved before, he reached out and cupped his hands around Quirrell's face, hearing the man cry out in pain. Harry clambered backwards as the man fell, disintegrating with a painful, agonizing howl.
Silence filled the chamber as Harry stood to retrieve his wand from in front of the mirror. He pocketed it and pulled the stone out, studying the small object carefully. He then looked up into the mirror his eyes searching for his parents one more time. He found them, pushing him on the swing, just as they did in the previous vision. Harry focused on his parents, smiling and laughing with him. But this time, Harry noticed something he hadn't seen at Christmas: a shadow, almost invisible, in the background. Harry squinted his eyes and leaned closer to the mirror, trying to discern the shadow's origin. The shadow phased in slightly, then out completely, but not before Harry recognized the distinctive profile of his uncle. Sadness filled his heart as he watched the family in the scene continue on as if nothing had changed.
"Uncle," Harry whispered softly. He reached up and touched the glass, watching sadly as the scene faded, leaving him alone in the chamber. A faint whispering attracted his attention, and he turned to the steps where the ashes of his Defense teacher lay. A form was rising from the ashes, and Harry involuntarily took a step forward, wondering what was happening. Before he could react, the misty form shot toward him, letting out a horrendous scream of terror. Harry clutched the stone protectively as the form coursed through him, sending pain to every corner of his body. When it was over, Harry fell to his knees, then to the floor. Just before his eyes closed, he saw the man-shaped form float up and out of the chamber, seeking freedom.
Harry groaned and rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow. Wait, pillow? Harry opened his eyes, expecting to see the dark, cold stone of the dungeons, but only his uncle's tired and angry face filled his vision.
"Harry Ja –" he started, but as the doors to the Hospital Wing opened, he stopped. Headmaster Dumbledore strode through smiling, with Hagrid trailing behind.
"Oh good, you're up," the headmaster said gleefully. Harry bolted from bed, his mind flooding with the events that had just transpired.
"Sir! The stone! Who's got the stone?" Severus placed a forceful hand on Harry's shoulder, pushing him back down onto the bed.
"Relax, dear boy," Dumbledore assured, "The stone has been destroyed. Nicholas and I have had a long chat and he realizes that it's too much of a risk to keep it."
"Nearly got you lot killed, it did," Hagrid put in shamefully. "An' I'm the one who went and told the bugger how to get past Fluffy." Harry realized Hagrid must have had time to think about all this, and quickly glanced around for a clock.
"What time is it?" he asked, more to distract his uncle's intense gaze than out of curiosity.
"It is 3 o'clock on the 31st of May," Dumbledore supplied for him.
"What about Colt and Hermione? Are they okay?" Harry berated himself for not thinking of them earlier, but sighed as the headmaster assured their safety.
"Minor injuries; they were fixed up in a pinch. You should be well enough to attend the Leaving Feast tonight, I should think. You have quite a few admirers." He gestured to the various cards and sweets that surrounded Harry's bed. Harry glanced around, just seeing his gifts for the first time.
"But –"
"What happened down in the dungeon between you and Quirrell is a complete secret. So, naturally, the whole school knows. Hagrid, could you go fetch Madam Pompfrey please?" Hagrid nodded curtly and left in a hurry. When the door shut firmly behind him, the headmaster took a step closer to Harry's bed, and Harry knew he could now ask the things that had been burning inside him since he'd awakened.
"Sir, I should be dead by all rights, but when Quirrell touched me, he burned up. Why?"
"Harry, your mother died saving you. That kind of act leaves a mark, something that lives on in your soul and body; in your skin: love. Quirrell was possessed by an evil that could never understand such an emotion. He was filled with so much anger and hatred that touching something so good was pure agony."
"But how did I get the stone out of the mirror?" Harry asked when he'd found his voice again.
"Ah, that is one of my more brilliant ideas; and that is saying something." Harry couldn't help but smile at the twinkle in the old man's eyes. "You see, only a person who wanted to stone, wanted it but didn't want to use it could get the stone out of the mirror." Harry nodded, questions still burning in his mind. "But you deserve some time alone with him, Severus, so I'll be on my way." Harry swallowed a large lump that had formed in his throat as the headmaster bid farewell and departed. Harry felt an intense gaze on him and looked up into the swirling obsidian eyes of his uncle. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst. But to his surprise, his uncle did not blow up at him.
"Harry, I cannot stress to you the depth of peril you put yourself in, not to mention your best friends. The Dark Lord is powerful, more so than you have witnessed, and I fear you will not be so lucky next time." Severus paused, collecting himself. "I must admit I have never been as scared, worried, or angry as when the headmaster entered my office to tell me what had transpired. I thought I had instilled in you a little more common sense, but I guess you'll always be a Gryffindor."
"But I'm in Ravenclaw," Harry pointed out indignantly, sitting up.
"Well you certainly haven't acted as one," Severus raised his voice a little. "The Sorting Hat has made errors in the past; I can think of a few from my years here, as well as my years as a teacher. You are most certainly a Gryffindor." Severus composed himself before he continued in a calmer voice. "Why didn't you come to me with any of this? If you suspected Quirrell was after the stone, I should have been the first person you told!" Harry mumbled something under his breath, and Severus leveled a glare that would have sent seventh years running.
"What?" he said agitatedly. Harry fidgeted with his sheets, momentarily reminding Severus that Harry was still a child; one who attracted trouble like the plague, but a child nonetheless.
"I said…we thought you were after the stone." Severus sat in shock for a moment, mulling over this new information.
"Why on earth would I want to be immortal? To see all of my friends die, to watch you grow up, move on, and eventually die?"
"No," Harry protested, trying desperately to find a way to convey what he wanted to. "We thought you were after the stone for Voldemort; to help him come back."
"Why on earth would I want that bastard back in power? I thought I'd conveyed my feelings of the Dark Lord quite avidly at Christmas." Harry groaned as he realized he'd forgotten completely about their conversation.
"We…we were so worried about the stone that I forgot." Harry fell back against the pillows.
"You didn't think," Severus explained, "And while rashness is, unfortunately, a trait of youth, I have no choice but to punish you properly. This was a school-related event, however the year is over; detentions cannot be served. So you will be grounded to the manor for all of June." When Harry looked ready to protest, Severus said added in a firm tone, "I could make it the entire summer, Mr. Potter." Harry's mouth snapped shut and he settled for a disgruntled glare. Severus stood and called for the mediwitch. Madam Pomphrey emerged from her office, her eyes focused on Harry.
"Is he well enough to leave?" Severus asked. "He will be going straight to my rooms, not to Gryffindor Tower." Poppy nodded curtly, marking Harry's release on his chart and taking the paperwork into her office. Harry stood with his uncle's help and got dressed. When he opened the curtain that surrounded his bed, his uncle handed him his glasses and a bag. Harry realized it held all of the things he'd been given during his stay.
"All this in a day and a half?" he mumbled to himself, but is uncle heard him.
"Yes, well you seem to have quite a fan club," Severus pointed out curtly. If Harry hadn't known better, his uncle almost sounded jealous. The rest of the journey was traveled in silence, and Harry didn't miss some of the sympathetic looks thrown his way by passing students.
"Another year gone," Dumbledore's voice rang out in the packed hall, and the few remaining chatterers quieted down. Harry sat at the Ravenclaw table with Colt. He threw a glance to the table behind him where Hermione sat next to Ron and Seamus. Ron was eyeing the green banners overhead with disgust, and Harry silently hoped that he wasn't angry with Hermione for losing the house cup. Really, no one was close to Slytherin. Even with Harry's Quidditch skills, Ravenclaw was in second - over one hundred points under Slytherin. Hufflepuff had come in third, only sixty points under Harry's house; and Gryffindor had lost every Quidditch match this year, placing them in last place, almost eighty points lower than Ravenclaw.
"And now, I believe the house cup needs awarding," Dumbledore continued. "Before I begin, however, some last minute points need to be awarded. First, to Miss Hermione Granger: for cool use of intellect in very dangerous situations, I award her fifty points." Ron cheered and clapped Hermione on the shoulder. They were out of last place.
"Second, to Mr. Terrence Boot, for applying knowledge and enlightenment to help others, I award Ravenclaw house fifty points. And finally, to Mr. Harry Potter, for bravery and outstanding courage," he smiled at Harry, but Harry caught his uncle's eye-roll, "I award Ravenclaw house sixty points." The cheering was almost deafening, but most of the Ravenclaws knew that, barring a miracle, they were still only in second.
"Alas, this doesn't change our decorations, but the points needed to be awarded the same." He took a pause and looked around at the students before him.
"In fourth place, Hufflepuff house with two hundred seventy-ninepoints. In third place, Gryffindor with three hundred nineteen points. In second place, Ravenclaw with four hundred fifty-nine points. And this year's house cup winner, Slytherin house with four hundred seventy two points." Tumultuous applause rose from the Slytherin table, and Harry clapped along with them. A few of his housemates were glaring at him, but they knew they would even be in second if it weren't for his Seeker ability. When the roar died down, Dumbledore smiled broadly.
"Enjoy your last meal of this school year, and have a safe yet eventful summer. We will see you all in September. To the seventh years, we wish you luck in beginning your lives beyond these castle walls, and we would like to congratulate you on surviving seven whole years." Several of the older students chuckled, and Harry saw from the corner of his eye several girls wiping their eyes.
The next morning, he said goodbye to Colt and Hermione, insisting he was fine. "Uncle Severus grounded me for a month, so I'll owl when I can," he told them.
"Are you going to have a birthday party?" Colt asked him.
"Maybe," Harry grimaced, "I'll ask Uncle." Hermione hugged him one more time before walking with Colt to the train. Severus walked over to Harry when most of the students had boarded the Hogwarts Express.
Harry waved goodbye to his friends, silently hoping his uncle would be in a better mood very soon. Severus noted his nephew's wistful gaze as the train began rolling and soon made its way around a bend. He placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, nearly startling the boy.
"Sorry, Uncle," he said, misinterpreting the man's look. Severus gave him a small smile, his professor mask slipping as his pupils were safely out of range.
"Come on, Harry," he said, "Let's go home."