Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the wizarding world	By : zoy_grey Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 10766 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own nor make profit off of JK Rowling's world of Harry Potter, the characters or the timeline. I do own some of the characters that are of my imagination as well as the plot that I came up with.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update, but I had a lot going on lately, and I'll try to do better from now on ;) Oh, and this is the last chapter of a sort of "introduction" to this story, and there will be a jump to book 3 after this chapter.

"dialogue"

'thoughts'

"parseltongue"

'thinking in parseltongue'

CHAPTER 5

Quirinus Quirrell was sitting alone in his office reading the first-years’ essays. He absentmindedly checked one paper after another; it was really boring to read about the basic knowledge on defence against the dark arts. He’d rather use some of the dark spells rather than teach the students their counter curses.

“What rubbish,” he commented to himself and crossed out the ridiculous part of someone’s essay.

He wondered when he was going to hear from his master again. The dark wizard was keeping quiet for some time now, although Quirrell knew the other man was always with him.

The Dark Lord gave him a mission and he already failed once; he had to make things right this time. It seemed simple, after all; he just had to retrieve what Hagrid took from Gringott’s. As simple as it sounded, it wasn’t. Since August he’d been trying to find out where the half giant hid the precious package; he even tried to get some information form Dumbledore, but with no success. Finally, after almost a month he found out where the headmaster has hidden the package, but then another obstacle showed up.

A former death eater, Snape, started suspecting him to be on the dark side – which was true really, but Quirrell never thought that the potions master might cause him so much trouble. Whenever he tried to get close to the third floor corridor, the Head of Slytherin house showed up out of nowhere and asked too many questions. And so, another month and a half had gone and he still had no good news for his master.

Quirrell was starting to panic. He needed to get his hands on that treasure hidden in the third floor soon, or his master will lose patience. Having lived with the wizard for some time now, he knew how angry the other could get and he didn’t like it, especially if he was at the receiving end.

“Excuse me professor Quirrell,” a female voice brought him out of his thoughts. When he looked up from his papers, he saw professor McGonagall standing before him.

“Y-y-yes, p-professor,” he said and smiled weakly “-how c-can I h-help you?”

“I just wanted to tell you that Hagrid will be needing your help in the Forbidden Forest,” she said and glanced at the essays on Quirrell’s desk “First-years?”

The man looked confused for a moment and then answered “Ah, the e-essays. Y-yes.”

“I do hope my House isn’t giving you a hard time, professor.”

“N-not at all. They’re v-very p-p-promising. I’m e-especially looking f-f-forward t-to see P-P-Potter’s a-achivements,” he managed to say.

“Yes, he does seem a very talented boy, like his parents” she smiled proudly “He’s even got his father’s talent for Quidditch. He’s Gryffindor’s new Seeker.”

“R-r-really. F-fantastic news…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, because excited McGonagall interrupted him.

“Yes, personally I’m looking forward to the first match. Finally I’ll be able to look Severus Snape in the eyes without being embarrassed by a lost match,” the witch nearly clapped her hands enthusiastically and a second later she put on her serious face. “Oh, but I won’t be taking your time, professor. Good day.”

The moment McGonagall left his office Quirrell stood up and took all the rolls of parchment with him to his quarters. He needed a break from those essays and a moment to think.

The witch mentioned Potter; that was also something that bothered him for quite some time. He remembered their meeting at the Leaky Cauldron in summer and the unusual feeling he had then. His master told him it was nothing to worry about, but since then he’s been wondering why the Dark Lord hasn’t ordered him to simply kill the boy who almost defeated him ten years ago. Maybe the older wizard had a plan how to use the boy-who-lived, but Quirrell couldn’t think of anything his master might need the Potter boy for.

‘Stop worrying about things you do not understand and focus on your task then,’ sounded a cold hissing voice in his head.

“Master,” Quirrell whispered to make sure no one heard him. “You have been silent for such a long time I already thought…”

‘You thought you were free from me’ finished the voice. ‘You won’t be free until I say so. Did you find what was taken from Gringott’s?’

“Not yet, master.”

‘What have you found out about the Potter boy?’

“McGonagall just told me he’s a promising Quidditch player…” started Quirrell.

‘I wouldn’t care even if he was able to fly dragons’ the older wizard was getting angry with every moment ‘What about his magic? Is he good; is he powerful?’

“Well,…it’s hard to say just now, but his results so far look promising.”

‘What about the Light in him?’

“I can’t tell just yet…I need more time with that one, my lord.” Quirrell felt his hands getting all sweaty; he wouldn’t mind if his master left him alone to his thoughts for a few more days.

‘Then do something!’ there was another angry hiss ‘And go to that bloody third floor corridor!’

After that the voice in his head went silent, which Quirinus was thankful for.

He collapsed on the bed in his quarters and thought intensively what to do. He needed to find something he could report to his master that would please him, and he needed to do that fast if he valued his life.

It was already end of October and everyone was looking forward to Halloween. The temperature was dropping low, but it wasn’t too cold outside.

Taking advantage of that fact, Gryffindor Quidditch team was training hard to beat Slytherins this year. Harry was no exception; on the contrary, Wood was pressing him to work twice as hard as the rest of the team. The boy didn’t have anything against it, though. Harry was excited every time he could train his flying. He didn’t have to worry about his classes either; after almost two months everyone got more confident with their magic. Of course, subjects like Transfiguration or Potions were as difficult as always, but that was only to be expected of professor McGonagall and Slytherin-loving Snape.

Harry just finished another one of his trainings and walked into the castle. He headed to the Gryffindor tower, when something strange caught his attention. He stopped by the entrance to the infirmary and watched Madam Pomfrey tend to quite a few students from different houses. They didn’t seem to be injured – just a bit pale and sick, maybe the caught a flu or something.

“Hey Harry,” called Percy Weasley coming out of the hospital wing with a first-year Gryffindor – Ethan Wright. “Could you walk him back to the common room?”

“Sure,” he answered a bit confused what were they doing in the infirmary.

“Thanks Harry. Percy is exaggerating things a bit,” laughed Ethan walking by the other boy’s side.

“Did something happen? Madam Pomfrey seems to have a bit of work here,” he glanced again into the infirmary.

“It’s nothing really. I guess it’s because of the weather. I’ve been feeling awful for some time now, so Percy took me to Madam Pomfrey. She gave me some nutrition potion and I feel much better now,” answered Ethan and looked one more time into the room; there was a black haired Slytherin girl arguing with the school nurse. “But some people are too stubborn to take the potion.”

“Why? Does it taste so bad she doesn’t want to drink it?” asked Harry walking up the stairs with his classmate.

“No. She’s been refusing to drink it without a reason. Madam Pomfrey had to call her Head of House to convince her to take it.”

“Her Head of House? Who?”

“Snape,” a look of sympathy visible on the boy’s face.

Finally, two months have gone and Hermione was enthusiastic about her progress in charms class. She tried to be as good as possible in every subject. So farm she’s been doing wonderfully at Transfiguration, but she made it a point of honour to get high marks in Potions, to prove to professor Snape and the rest of Slytherins that she was able to be on top of her year.

Today was 31^st October, the day professor Flitwick promised them, they’ll be practicing the levitation spell. She was so excited she hardly stopped herself from running to the charms classroom to take the beast seat.

When she got to the right classroom, she wasn’t the only one there. In the seats opposite to her own, sat the Muggle-born girl she met on the train to Hogwarts, and a few other Slytherins. Hermione sat down and took out her books, but she kept glancing at the other girl; she looked paler than ever and very tired.

“Are you alright?” she finally asked the black haired girl.

“Oh, look,” laughed Parkinson walking into the classroom with her friends “The little lioness wants to be friends with one of us.”

Hermione quickly lowered her head and pretended to be looking for something in her bag. The unexpected appearance of Pansy Parkinson took her by surprise, but what she said was even more shocking; the pure-blood called the Muggle-born Slytherin one of them. Everybody knew Slytherins, especially pure-bloods, hated Muggle-borns, and Hermione was sure they must have pretending they liked the black haired girl. That was the only explanation she could think of.

She kept quiet until the room filled with students and after a while professor Flitwick climbed up a pile of books, and started the lesson.

The teacher put them in pairs to practice and so, Harry ended with Seamus Finnigan, and Hermione with Ron. She was a bit annoyed by that fact, since she wasn’t talking with either Harry or Ron since their ridiculous night trip to the trophy room. Hermione decided not to speak to the red head unless the charms practice required that. She focused on professor Flitwick’s instructions and revision of the levitation spell – she already knew it very well, since she memorised most of the spells incantations during summer, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear a great wizard’s explanations on the subject.

When they repeated the incantation and the wrist movement the teacher showed them once more, it was time for them to try levitating the feathers they received at the beginning of class. The task was harder than it looked like.

Hermione looked around the room and saw each pair try to make the feather move, but with little to no success. At some point, Seamus had even set the feather on fire. Thankfully, Ron’s actions weren’t as bad as Seamus’, but him waving his arms madly and shouting incantation wasn’t much better.

“Stop it. You’re going to hurt yourself and others as well,” she grabbed Ron’s hand and added “Besides, it’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa. You’re saying it wrong.”

“You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled. “Go on.”

Hermione focused on her task, flicked her wand and said the spell. Suddenly, the feather rose off the desk and hovered above their heads.

“Well done, Ms Granger!” professor Flitwick was delighted to see someone succeeded with the charm.

After that she just sat there for the rest of the class, proud of herself, and watched her classmates trying to make the spell work. Ron, on the other hand was in a very bad mood. He kept mumbling something about bossy girls with no friends. Even Harry couldn’t calm him down and unfortunately Hermione heard one of Ron’s nasty comments about nobody liking her, and she vanished for the rest of the day.

“Way to go, Ron. She heard you,” said Harry when they left the classroom.

“So what? She really is a nightmare.”

The Halloween feast was as grand as always; the entire Great Hall decorated with thousands of bats, candles and pumpkins.

Severus watched the hall and students before him. He remembered when he was a student and how happy he was every time they had a chance to celebrate like this in the Great Hall. Those times, however, have long since gone; now he was a teacher, a potions master and the most feared professor in school. Sometimes he couldn’t decide if he was satisfied with his reputation, but on the other hand, at least he got some respect from this bunch of dunderheads.

His gaze landed on Potter, sitting with the youngest Weasley boy by the Gryffindor table. Severus could truly see James Potter in Harry and that made him dislike the boy already; and yet Harry was also Lily’s son and he knew he’d never be able to truly hate him. If only young Potter’s behaviour was a bit more like Lily’s, it would be much easier; but fortune had to be cruel – the boy was arrogant and dared to talk back to him whenever he could. Although, he would be lying to himself if he said there wasn’t anything intriguing about Harry. Snape could sense it from the moment he first saw the boy at the beginning of term.

He focused on Potter and watched his every move, but he still couldn’t quite place this odd feeling he had when observing him. There was something unusual about the boy’s aura, but it was like nothing he’s ever seen before. His eyes darted to the other side of the hall and landed on Draco and his friends.

‘No, that’s different’ he thought ‘Malfoy has a definitely dark aura, but Potter’ his eyes moved back to Harry ‘Potter’s aura is completely different. But what is it?’

Snape’s thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore’s conversation with the school nurse. Severus overheard them talking about the latest sort of epidemic flu among students. That was another matter that didn’t let Severus sleep. He didn’t know about the other students but he was well aware of his Slytherins; and as far as he knew a person given nutrition potions should feel better; his students however reacted oddly – physically they seemed fine, but they had a sudden downfall when it came to using their magic. That wasn’t normal, but he needed more time to figure that one out. For now, he had to observe them and the Potter boy.

Suddenly the cheerful atmosphere was broken by professor Quirrell sprinting towards the High Table and shouting “Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know.”

After those words he fainted on the floor.

‘And he’s the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? Pathetic,’ Snape snarled in his thoughts.

There was a moment of dead silence in the hall and an outburst of panicked voices later. All the students got up from their seats faster than anyone would think they were capable, and they wanted to run to their common rooms.

Severus observed them with slight amusement, but said nothing.

Finally, Dumbledore rose from his armchair and exploded a few firecrackers from his wand to get the children’s attention. “Prefects, please take your Houses to your dormitories. And teachers will follow me to the dungeons.”

‘Now, that’s ironic. Slytherin’s dormitories are in the dungeons,’ Snape thought annoyed ‘Good thing, the Snakes know the dungeons better than any troll.’

He stood up and followed the other teachers, but then a sudden realisation hit him; how could a troll get into the castle on its own?

‘The stone! The troll is only a distraction,’ ran through his mind.

When all the students left the Great Hall he walked out with the other school’s staff, but at the first possible moment he slipped to a side chamber and waited a while, before he walked out and onto the corridor. As quickly as he could he walked up the stairs and down one of the corridors. He saw a group of Hufflepuffs cross his way, but he didn’t have time to lose on them; he had to get to the third floor as soon as possible. Severus took another turn and practically ran up the next flight of stairs.

He looked around, but he didn’t see anyone. That was a good sign, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t faster than him, either. He finally reached the third floor corridor and headed to the locked door at the very end.

Snape took his wand out, but tried to open the door without magic first – it was locked; that was good news; he might be the first one to get here. He pointed the wand at the door and whispered “Alohomora.”

A quiet click and the door opened.

He opened it wider and walked inside. It was quiet and he could hear the steady breathing of the three headed dog deep in its sleep on the trapdoor.

‘Good,’ he sighed relieved ‘No one’s tried to get through the door yet.’

Severus locked the door from the inside, hid himself in the dark corner of the chamber and waited.

After fifteen minutes of waiting, he was about to leave the room and go check on the troll roaming around the castle, but then he heard movement on the other side of the door. Someone entered the chamber and moved towards the sleeping dog.

The unwanted visitor was clad in a long, black cloak and Snape couldn’t recognise the person, but when he tried to use a stunning spell on the intruder, he saw some dark curse being sent his direction – he didn’t know the curse, but he didn’t have to; he knew it was dark, he could sense it, almost feel it. He used to practice Dark Arts when he was younger; he had a natural inclination towards the Dark Arts, after all.

Severus managed to block the curse but unfortunately the damned three headed dog woke up and it wasn’t very happy to see the intruders. At first, the dog tried to attack the black clad stranger and eventually managed to scare him away, but then it attacked Snape. He tried dodging, but just when he was about to get through the door he felt a stinging pain in his leg.

“That’s enough,” he pointed his wand at the dog and said “Petrificus Totalus.”

Instantly the beast stopped moving and Severus walked out of the room, shutting the door closed behind him.

He looked at his leg, which was covered in blood, but ignored it when someone entered the corridor.

“Quirrell,” he hissed dangerously and walked to the other teacher “Not chasing the troll?”

“I—I came t-to look for y-y-you, S-severus,” answered terrified Quirrell.

“What for? You can’t handle a troll on your own?”

“N-n-no. The t-troll isn’t in t-t-the d-dungeons a-anymore.”

“Then we’re going to look for him,” Snape dragged Quirinus by his robes to the stairs and pushed him to go downstairs “After you, Quirrell.”

Around midnight, Quirinus entered his private quarters and sat on his bad, at last. The day was awfully tiring. First, he had classes, and then he helped Hagrid again in the Forbidden Forest, later he had to transport a fully grown mountain troll into the castle and somehow do it unnoticed.

Everything was on a good way to work out the way he planned it. He would be finally able to report to his master that he retrieved what he wanted from the third floor. Unfortunately, this wasn’t his lucky day.

Quirrell just couldn’t understand why it didn’t work. He played his role perfectly – he let the troll into the castle, he informed everyone about the troll and caused uproar. Everything was going just fine, until that bloody Snape ruined it all.

‘So?’ he heard a hissing voice.

“M-master,” Quirrell stuttered nervously.

‘Did you get into the role of a poor stammering professor so well that you forgot yourself or are you this scared of me,’ asked the cold voice.

“No, master,” he took a deep breath and continued “I did my best.”

‘And yet, you still don’t have what I want.’

“But I’ll try better next time. I swear, my lord, next time I’ll have it.”

‘What makes you think there will be next time?’ asked the voice maliciously and paused.

The sudden silence was killing him. He’d rather his master punish him so that he could move on; this waiting was unbearable.

As if hearing his wish, an excruciating pain ripped through his entire body. He fell of the bed and onto the cold, stone floor. For a moment there he thought his limbs are being torn away from his body and then he had a feeling he was going to die from the pain. But as suddenly as the pain stroke as quickly it went away.

‘You fool! You let Severus catch you,’ the other wizard hissed ‘He isn’t as brainless as you; he suspects you already, and now he’ll keep an eye on you!’

“But master,” he gasped trying to steady his breath “I’ll try harder,…and I have my ways to mislead them…all of them…”

‘You better try harder Quirrell. You’re not the only person I could use as my temporary host body.’

The younger man felt his master’s constantly growing anger. He knew that he wouldn’t last a next dose of pain and he needed to think of something to soothe the wizard.

“My lord,” he began “I’ve managed to observe something.”

‘What?’ barked the older wizard.

“It’s about Potter,” he managed to pull himself together and sit back on the bed.

‘What about him?’

“He does seem to have potential, a great one” Quirrell continued “but it looks like something is blocking it.”

‘A blocked potential you say?’ the man said thoughtfully.

“Yes, it’ll be easy to kill him, my lord. And he seems to be good only with Light magic…”

Quirinus never managed to finish the sentence, because of the unexpected feeling of utmost rage he experienced. All he knew before he lost consciousness was that his master was most displeased for some reason and inflicted another great share of pain on him.

The excitement of the day caused Harry to fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

Once more he found himself in the familiar nursery, though this time he was alone. Harry walked around the room in hope his mysterious cloaked friend will show up. After some time, though, he came to the conclusion the dark figure wouldn’t meet with him this time.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable to be in the manor alone for the first time, he walked to the window and observed the surrounding gardens. He wondered what could have happened that his companion didn’t appear; did he do something wrong? Maybe the dark figure was mad at Harry for leaving the manor the way he did last time?

He worried he might never see his mysterious friend again. Harry didn’t want that to happen. He might not have known his companion long enough, but he had a special connection with him. It was different relation than the one he had with Ron or the one that started forming between him and Hermione. This was completely different; he didn’t have to see his face or know his name to feel that strong bond they shared. His dark friend could sense Harry’s emotions and showed up whenever Harry needed him. He felt he didn’t have to impress his companion, the dark figure liked him for who he was and that was all Harry ever wanted from a friend.

His attention was suddenly brought up by a big, black owl with red eyes. Harry remembered it from one of his previous dreams. This time as well, the bird stared at him intently. Somehow he wasn’t scared of the unusual owl; he even felt brave enough to open the window and touch it. The animal didn’t move from its place. The boy reached forward to touch it, when out of nowhere a white barrier rose in the window frame.

Harry could see through it, but he couldn’t touch anything beyond it.

He saw a familiar dark figure standing in the garden with its head turned in Harry’s direction.

All of a sudden, as if enraged, the owl flew directly into the barrier and flapped its wings wildly. The white barrier moved from its place and wrapped around the bird engulfing it with light. The owl tried to free itself, but with not much success.

Harry watched the light presence, wrapped around the animal, fall to the ground and crush somewhere in the forest outside of the property. When he scanned the garden again, he saw his dark companion walking into the forest.

He quickly ran out of the room and down the grand staircase; he rushed to the main parlour and darted through the door to the garden. Harry sensed a faint presence of his mysterious friend and headed in that direction. At the end of the path, the fence surrounding the garden miraculously parted allowing him to enter the forest. Harry slowed down and stepped onto a gravel path. After a while, the forest became unusually silent, he couldn’t see any form of life there. Finally, he walked onto a clearing and saw the owl free itself from the white presence and change into a dark clad figure, similar to his friend, but this person still had its flaming red eyes staring at him.

His companion moved swiftly towards him, but stopped when the white presence turned into a cloak and landed on Harry’s shoulders, wrapping itself around his body.

For a moment there, Harry thought he saw suffocating; it felt as if something heavy was put on his chest and made it difficult to breath. He reached his hand to touch his friend, but the dark figure didn’t even move.

Thankfully, after a while, the suffocating feeling vanished and he could breathe with ease; he even felt warmer now, and lighter. The same moment he noticed the second dark cloaked person stare at him with growing rage; Harry could literally see the expanding dark aura around the red eyed stranger, and he didn’t like it at all.

“We’re not safe here,” he said to his friend and wanted to take his hand, but he moved away from him. “What are you doing? It’s me, Harry. It’s not safe; we need to get away from here.”

His dark companion shook his head and remained in his place.

“Please,” Harry managed to get his hand from under the white cloak and grabbed his friend’s hand. “We have to go now.”

He took Harry’s hand and ran with him to the manor, looking behind them every now and then. When they safely got to the nursery and looked the door, Harry collapsed on the sofa, still wearing the cloak, but his friend stood by the window and watched the enraged red eyed figure in the forest; he watched the furious person cast countless curses in the manor’s direction, but none of them seemed to affect the building.

“We’re safe here, right?” asked Harry, but the dark one looked at him and shook his head. “What do you mean? That evil looking thing,” he gestured towards the window to indicate the red eyed figure “won’t catch us here.”

His companion walked to him and made strange gestures, which Harry thought meant taking off the cloak.

“You want me to take it off?” he asked and the other one nodded, but Harry didn’t feel like taking it off; it felt nice and warm. “It’s alright. I’ll take it off later,” he said and closed his eyes.

After surviving the first two months, it was easier to survive the rest of the year. Everything was falling into place for Harry – he was doing quite well in classes, Hermione proved to be a wonderful friend (he liked her especially for putting up Snape’s robes on fire at the first Quidditch match) and of course he adored playing Quidditch. Maybe he didn’t exactly fulfil his plan to astound the professors with his brilliant magical knowledge and talent, but at least it was Hermione who beat him with marks – unfortunately, some of the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had very good marks too, but Harry was satisfied with his achievements so far.

Together with his friends they even managed to get Malfoy in detention, which Harry was especially proud of. And they’ve finally found who Nicolas Flamel was, but no one really wanted to listen to their suspicions about Snape and the philosopher’s stone.

The events of the next few months were gradually forming Harry’s believes of other magical people. Another matter that was slowly growing was Harry’s hatred for most Slytherins – especially Snape and Malfoy. He was starting to think the both of them hated his guts and were going out of their ways to make his life miserable.

The longer he lived in the wizarding world and the more he got to know his classmates, the more he was cautious of people coming from all wizarding families. True, his best friend was a pure-blood, but Ron and his family were completely different than other wizarding families. They weren’t some evil, snobbish lot living in a grand, old manor and plotting behind other people’s backs. However, “old, grand manors” brought up another issue; something that bothered him for the last few months.

For almost a year now he regularly dreamed of a big, wonderful manor where he met this dark figure, which he already considered a friend; a friend different than Ron and Hermione. Harry always felt safe and happy around him, but that changed some time ago. The dark figure slowly moved away from him, but Harry didn’t know why. Almost every night, he fell asleep, hoping to find himself in the big house with his friend embracing him, but that never happened. Sometimes harry had to walk around the manor and look for him; but when he did find him, he refused to even get near Harry.

Normally, he’d get mad at a person for such behaviour, but Harry couldn’t force himself to be angry at his friend; he needed him and he felt down that for some unknown reason the dark figure no longer wanted to stay in his presence. In an act of despair, Harry asked Hermione and Ron what he could do to apologize to a friend. That only made the other two Gryffindors ask many questions. Because of that Harry ended up telling them about his dreams and his friend.

Ron and Hermione didn’t understand what those dreams could mean simply told Harry not to seek that mysterious person and let go of that dream. They thought it might be some kind of a side effect of the encounter with Voldemort, but they didn’t dare to say it to the black haired boy.

Harry on the other hand refused to let go of his friend; he had this strange urge to make up with him, but the more time have passed the more difficult it seemed. Sometimes the dark person never showed up while Harry was there, even though the boy could feel its presence in the manor; and like that the situation dragged on and pained Harry until the end of the school year.

He felt particularly awful exactly the same day he and his fellow Gryffindors planned to stop Snape from obtaining the sorcerer’s stone. All that Harry remembered later was that on that night he saw his dark friend standing in the garden behind the manor and staring at the path in the forest; he didn’t even react when Harry called to him and walked closer; he just pointed in the direction of the forest and flinched away when the boy tried to touch his hand.

For the rest of the day Harry didn’t have time to think about it – he had to stop Snape from stealing the stone and then it seemed he had to fight with Voldemort.

Seeing Voldemort was an odd experience for him – never before did he think he’d actually need to know how to fight using magic and definitely not against the wizard who killed his parents and was believed to be dead. There was a bunch of thoughts running through his head and for a moment there, he even had a feeling he was in a situation like this before – standing in front of a dark figure, surrounded by dark aura. Something in the back of his head kept telling him he was about to once more make a bad choice, but even so, he fought against what remained from the Dark Lord.

When the encounter was finally over and Voldemort fled, he slipped down to the ground and passed out feeling the need for nothing more than his dark friend’s embrace.

When he opened his eyes, Harry was surprised to find himself lying on the stairs on the ground floor of the manor, but there was something even more intriguing; he could sense more than one presence in the building.

The boy tried to move but failed miserably. To his left he saw his mysterious friend rushing his way and he felt happy – maybe he didn’t lose him after all.

Suddenly a few different figures walked into the hall and headed in Harry’s directions. He didn’t know them or what to think about them, but he could see his friend’s growing tension; that couldn’t be good. Harry felt a warm hand placed on his chest and realised it was the familiar dark person touching him comfortingly; for the first time in months. That moment the boy noticed the white cloak wasn’t there. He looked around and found it in the hands of one of the unknown white figures walking his way.

“What do you want?” asked Harry in a strange, unfamiliar to him voice and the white figures stopped abruptly.

Before he could say anything else, three of them attacked his friend and the one holding the cloak threw it on Harry and wrapped it around him tightly. The boy wanted to get up and fight or at least say something, but he still couldn’t move; if he felt bad before, now he felt really awful and tired; he didn’t even protest when the unknown person lifted him off the ground and walked outside of the building. Harry was aware this strange figure was taking him to the front gate of the manor, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Instead, he begged in his mind for his friend to be safe and able to save him.

To Harry’s delight, his friend was running his way and trying to stop the other figure from crossing the gate.

“You shall never touch him again,” said an unfamiliar voice and Harry assumed it must have belonged to the person holding him.

The next thing the boy remembered was walking through the gate and seeing his beaten and utterly distraught friend on the other side of the gate. As the one carrying him walked ahead, Harry saw the grand manor slowly fading and disappearing between the trees.
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Harry Potter and the wizarding world