Disclaimer: In the beginning, nothing of this will be original. Harry potter and all characters plots and elements that are used are property of the author J.K.Rowling. This is an alternate universe fictional story beginning from the end of year one (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone), the differences should become greater with each chapter. I have written quite a bit of it but the delay comes in the editing. Therefore, I make no promises as to how often I will update. The prologue is shorter than the rest will be.
'Here I come,' he said and drained the little bottle in one gulp.
It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He walked forward. The flames licking his body - for a moment he could see nothing but the dark fire - then he was on the other side in the last chamber.
The man that stood there should have surprised him but he kept his mouth silent.
Looking past him wondering what Dumbledore had in store he almost laughed.
'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live...'
Without realizing it he had whispered the words out loud.
Quirrell spun around 'You! What did you say?'
'Just a bit of advice I was given by a wise man around Christmas time, it just seemed ironic at the moment...' Harry gave a cheeky grin as the man turned back to the mirror. 'You know I was expecting to meet Snape down here...'
'Severus?' Quirrel laughed and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, but cold and sharp. 'Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around here like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel?'
'But the Quidditch match?'
'I would have succeeded, if Miss Granger had not knocked me over in an attempt to set fire to him. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I would have gotten you off your broom. If it wasn't for Snape muttering the counter curse I would have done it earlier.'
'Snape was trying to save me?'
Harry was about to attack with the bluebell flame spell while Quirrel was distracted, he swore to himself that he would study some more aggressive spells if he ever made it out of this situation alive. Just before he could even begin to utter the incantation Quirrel spun around and locked eyes with him, any doubt of the man's sanity was instantly cleared. No sane man could have that type of madness in his eyes. In that split second with nothing more than a snap of his fingers Harry was immobilized. Ropes sprang out of thin air and tightly wrapped around him, Harry could feel his chances of survival dropping several significant percentage marks.
'I see myself presenting the stone to my master... But where is it?!' Quirrel paced around the mirror carefully studying the reverse side of it. 'Should I break it? Master, Help me!'
Then to Harry's horror, a cold bodiless voice hissed, 'Use the boy ...use the boy...'
His mind raced. 'I have to get the stone, if just to keep it from him'
Quirrel dropped the ropes, 'Yes you Potter, come look and tell me what you see.'
But what happened next was so unexpected.
His reflection winked at him.
Then reached in his pocket to pull out the stone...
The stone was in his pocket, he could feel it bulge.
He drew his wand and the stone at the same time not actually having a clue about what he should do.
'Give that to me!' Quirrel reached for the stone as Harry turned to run.
'Over my cold dead body!' Harry screamed turning to face his enemy realizing how futile it was to run.
'That can be arranged!' The man with the purple turban raised a wand and pointed it at Harry.
'YOU FOOL...' But the hiss came to late the curse had already left Quirrell's lips.
Time stood still, the green light attacked with tidal force and struck the stone and the boy-who-lived's wand simultaneously.
Harry saw the explosion, both the wand and stone fracturing then the searing pain as the splinters struck him. Harry felt as if every inch of his being was on fire yet freezing at the exact same time.
Harry had a recollection of another time that he saw the flash, 'No not Harry...' cried a woman's voice ...and then...
The boy-who-lived knew no more.
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