Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc, etc. Anyone who thinks I do own Harry Potter is an idiot.

A/N: Just to let you know that I've posted the prologue for the Year of Discord sequel. It's called the New Dark Lord. Check it out and enjoy.

Hagrid's cabin was full with the smell of cooking meat.

Harry sat at the table, reading one of his books, entitled Curious Charms, while Hagrid slaved over his giant stove. Five large steaks and a small one for Harry sizzled on the stove. Fang was content munching on bone in the corner.

'How're yer lessons goin'?'

'Same as ever,' Harry said, putting the book aside.

Hagrid turned a little to smile at him. 'Yer your father's son, alright.'

'Oh?'

'He was a smart one as well,' Hagrid said, 'jus' like you - always near the top o' the class. Course he had yer mum to compete with.'

Harry paused only a moment. He couldn't look at Hagrid as he asked, 'tell me about them?'

Hagrid stopped what he was doing, leaving the steaks to sizzle away. He turned to face Harry. 'What'd you like t' know?'

'Anything. Everything.' Harry studied his hands because he didn't want Hagrid to see the apprehension on his face.

'Well.' Hagrid hummed thoughtfully. He clearly didn't know where to start. 'Yer mum… she was brilliant. Smart, kind, beautiful… in every way. An' she loved yer dad, and you. She woulda' done anything for you.'

Harry nodded. He tried not to cry as Hagrid went on.

'Yer da', he was, well, I know I sound like I'm repeatin' meself, but he was smart, jus' like yer mum. He was popular too, an' funny. Everyone loved him. He played Quidditch fer Gryffindor. A bloomin' good Chaser he was. An' he could play as Seeker an'all. Never met a better Quidditch player.'

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. 'What did they look like?'

'Hang on,' Hagrid said.

He went and pulled a trunk out from under his enormous cot. He riffled around inside for a minute or two. Finally, he handed a photograph to Harry. Harry looked at the smiling couple. His dad (looking very much like what Harry saw in the mirror, only older) gave his mum a kiss on the cheek and she smiled wider. The only similarity between him and his mother were the emerald green eyes.

'You can keep it,' Hagrid said. 'You oughter have it anyway.'

Harry nodded, tears clouding his vision. 'Thanks.'

Hagrid left him alone with the picture and went to keep an eye on the steaks.

A while later, Harry put the picture between the pages of Curious Charms, and looked over at Hagrid. He never would have expected he would ever have such a friend as the giant, but here he was. Opening up to Hagrid had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. Could he (should he?) considering opening up to more people?

He was thinking of course on his meeting with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. The older wizard had been testing him. Harry wasn't blind to that. And he knew he had probably failed the test. Trust never came easily to Harry.

Dumbledore had filled Harry with concern. His words had been ambiguous, but the meaning clear. He wanted to know if Harry was going to turn into the next Voldemort. In short - he wanted to know whether he should kill Harry before it became an issue.

This posed a problem. Harry couldn't kill Voldemort if the Headmaster decided to eliminate Harry early. It made sense to put Dumbledore at ease. But could he trust him?

'Hagrid?' Harry sought a second opinion. 'What do you think of Headmaster Dumbledore?'

'Dumbledore is a great wizard,' Hagrid said. 'He let me stay here at Hogwarts after I was expelled. Only Dumbledore believed me innocent. And he gave me this job when no one else would have. He's a great man Harry.'

Hagrid certainly sings his praises, Harry thought. Okay. Time for a real question. 'Headmaster Dumbledore - he's powerful?'

'The most powerful wizard alive,' Hagrid proclaimed.

'Then why didn't he kill Voldemort?'

Hagrid winced at the name. 'Don't say his name!'

'Just answer please,' Harry pressed.

'Well, you think he didn't try?'

'He couldn't then.'

'You-Know-Who had great power too Harry,' Hagrid said. 'Dark power.'

So Dumbledore fought Voldemort and lost. Harry shivered. He had felt Dumbledore's power - it was enormous. If Voldemort was more powerful… Harry had a lot of work ahead of him.

'They say Dumbledore was the only wizard You-Know-Who feared.'

'It was close then,' Harry theorised. So close Voldemort didn't want to risk another duel. 'One last question. Should I trust Professor Dumbledore?'

Hagrid looked at him with surprise. 'Of course. Harry, why would you think you couldn't?'

Harry shrugged it away. 'No reason.'

It was decided then. He would speak with Dumbledore. Perhaps they had a common enemy.

It happened as he was returning to the Slytherin dungeons.

Without warning, Harry was suddenly magically pulled into an abandoned classroom. He was slammed forcefully into a desk, breaking it apart with a crunch of shattering wood. He thought he might have felt his ribs crack as well. Pain and dizziness made him foggy as he tried to get up. What had happened…?

A boot caught him in the side of the head. He rolled onto his back and gasped. An older wizard stood above him, a sneer on his features. Harry recognised him as the Slytherin who had challenged him after the Sorting - come to finish the job.

Harry reached for his wand in his pocket, but the seventh year Slytherin stomped on his hand to prevent him. He ground his heel in and Harry groaned in pain.

'The Boy-Who-Lived,' he said mockingly, 'what a joke. No Snape to save you this time.' He knelt and jammed his wand into Harry's throat. A smirk twisted his expression. He looked on the brink of madness. 'The Dark Lord sends his regards.'

Harry's eyes widened. The Slytherin laughed and pulled back his wand hand. Harry grabbed a broken piece of the desk (a leg, it felt like) and smacked him around the head. He tumbled over with a cry of pain and anger. Harry scrambled to his feet and grabbed his wand. Before he could even think to cast a spell, his wand was tugged powerfully out of his hand. Harry looked at his assailant, who had also regained his feet, and currently had his wand once more pointed at him.

'Avada Kedavra!'

Harry dived after his wand and the curse narrowly missed him. He snatched his wand and ducked behind the teacher's larger desk. Heart pounding, the picture of his parents flashed before his mind. He couldn't die here. He squeezed his wand tightly and felt power build inside him. He would not die here!

He jumped up from behind the table and screamed: 'STUPEFY!'

It worked. However, his aim was off, and the red light smashed into the wall behind the other Slytherin, and dispersed.

'Not bad Potter,' his attacker taunted, laughing, 'but I think you missed. Too bad. Avada - '

A red aura burst around him. He went limp and collapsed to his knees. Harry stared in surprise. Professor Snape stood in the doorway.

'Are you okay Potter?' Snape asked.

Harry suddenly felt the pain in his ribs and buckled onto the desk. Despite this, he nodded reassuringly.

Snape helped him to a seat.

'Sit still.'

Snape aimed his wand. A bright white light shot out.

'What was that?' Harry enquired.

'A Patronus,' his head of house replied. 'Headmaster Dumbledore will be here soon. Just try not to move.'

Harry wondered what a Patronus was, but didn't have the energy to ask. He felt himself losing consciousness as the whole ordeal took its toll.

The next thing he knew, Dumbledore and Professor Quirrell had joined Snape.

'What could have possessed the boy,' Dumbledore mused out loud. He crouched by the still unconscious form of the seventh year Slytherin. 'Severus, do you have any Veritaserum on hand?' Harry noticed Professor Quirrell glance anxiously at Dumbledore.

'I do,' Snape said.

'Help me with the boy,' Dumbledore said, 'and we'll soon get to the bottom of this. Quirenus, I trust you will escort Mr. Potter to the hospital wing?'

'C-certainly,' Quirrell said, smiling stupidly.

Without another word, Dumbledore and Snape, the unconscious Slytherin between them, left the room. Quirrell turned to regard Harry. Harry got that tingling feeling he was accustomed to feeling around the Defence teacher. Quirrell continued to smile.

'Ah, so you're awake then, eh Potter.'

Harry rubbed at his scar.

'Does it hurt?'

Harry frowned. Something was off. He regarded Quirrell closely. He was still smiling… no, actually, it wasn't quite a smile. And the wizard was standing taller. It altered his presence significantly. Quirrell looked confident. Arrogant.

'I think you're supposed to take me to the hospital wing,' Harry said, hoping his impression was wrong.

Quirrell laughed. It was cold. Harry felt his heart quicken again. He tried to run, but suddenly he was flung and pinned against the wall. Quirrell appeared unarmed, but the wizard was definitely behind this new form of attack.

'Such a shame,' Quirrell said, 'that you failed to die at the hand of my Lord's lackey. It would have been so much easier on you, if you had just died. Now, unfortunately…'

Quirrell stopped suddenly. He looked as if he was listening, but Harry didn't hear anything. Quirrell smiled.

'My Lord would like to say hello,' he said menacingly, and began to unravel his turban. Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. As the cloth fell away, Quirrell turned, and Harry saw the horrific face ingrained in the back of Quirrell's skull.

'Harry Potter,' the grotesque apparition spoke. Lord Voldemort's voice was as repulsive as his face. 'So nice to finally see you once again. It's been too long.' Harry glared, breathing through his nose. 'Oh, such rage,' Lord Voldemort laughed, 'do you want to kill me boy?'

'I will kill you,' Harry promised, speaking through his teeth.

'I'm afraid that won't happen,' Voldemort said. 'I had planned on using the Philosopher's Stone to regain my body, and then choke the life out of you with my own hands, but opportunity presented itself, and I was unable to resist. Now I have no choice. You will die here and I will be long gone by the time they find you. Choke him. I want to feel his life pass through these hands.'

Quirrell approached. Harry tried to struggle free of the magical force pinning him to the wall, but he couldn't move. Quirrell raised his hands and went to fasten them around Harry's throat, but he recoiled at the merest touch, a cry of pain issuing from his mouth.

'My Lord,' Quirrell gasped, 'I cannot touch him.'

'Choke him!' Voldemort roared in outrage.

Quirrell paused. Harry continued to struggle. His sheer determination not to die radiated out from him. He felt his body shudder. He screamed and threw himself at Quirrell. Whatever force had been holding him there, it was no longer present. Harry didn't know why, and he didn't care. He grabbed at Quirrell and the man cried in pain. Harry felt the pain as well, but he couldn't stop. Voldemort was shouting orders at Quirrell, but the wizard could do nothing - he was afraid to touch Harry.

Harry wasn't afraid to touch him. Pain pierced him again and again, but he fought past it, and scratched and clawed at Quirrell, even as unconsciousness loomed one more time. The last thing he remembered was hearing Voldemort bellow with fury.

This time Harry woke up in the hospital wing. Dumbledore alone stood by his bed.

'What happened?' Harry couldn't quite remember…

'I was hoping you could tell me,' Dumbledore replied. 'Explain to me how a member of my staff was found dead, your body slumped over his?'

Quirrell. Voldemort. It all came back. 'It's not what you think,' Harry said. 'He was… I don't know… possessed, I guess, by Voldemort.'

Dumbledore tilted his head. 'Voldemort?'

'You don't believe me.' Harry shook his head. Despair gripped him. Of course Dumbledore wouldn't believe him.

'Tell me exactly what happened.'

Harry studied the old wizards face, but he couldn't read it. 'He tried to choke me, but he couldn't. It hurt him. To touch my skin. Voldemort ordered him to do it anyway, despite the pain, but Quirrell hesitated. He had me pinned against the wall. I don't know how. I didn't want to die. Suddenly I felt I could move. Again, I don't know why. I attacked him over and over again, touching him, and he screamed. Then I… I don't remember the rest. I woke up here.' Harry waited for the Headmaster to call him a liar.

'I believe you,' Dumbledore said.

Harry blinked. 'You what?'

'I believe you Harry,' he repeated. 'We used a truth serum on Mr. Lockerty - the student who attacked you - and he told us everything. How Professor Quirrell had used the Imperius Curse on him to make him attack you.'

Harry felt relief flood through him. 'He said he was after the Philosopher's Stone.'

'Not surprising.' Dumbledore took a seat by Harry's bed. 'I find it very interesting that Quirrell could not touch you.'

'It hurt me as well,' Harry said. 'Why?'

'I do not know. Perhaps a left over protection from your mother's sacrifice.'

'Her sacrifice?' Harry sat up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. 'What do you mean?'

'Your mother gave her life to protect you, Harry,' Dumbledore explained. 'It is my theory that this is what kept you alive that night he tried to kill you. Your mother's love.'

Harry looked down at his hands. Truly, Hagrid had been right. His mother would have done anything for him - even sacrifice her own life to save him. Why?

'Do you still want to know what I saw in the mirror?'

'I do.'

Harry met Dumbledore's eyes. 'I saw him dead. At my feet.'

Dumbledore took a breath. 'Revenge.'

'Does it matter what you call it? Voldemort doesn't deserve to live. As long as he does, people will continue to die. Innocent people - like my parent's.'

Dumbledore gave a conceding nod - albeit slightly reluctant. 'I would not have you consumed by it.'

'Don't worry about it,' Harry said. 'It doesn't matter what happens to me. As long as he dies.'

Dumbledore studied Harry closely. 'This was your intention all along?'

'Ever since Hagrid told me the truth,' Harry replied honestly. 'I'll do whatever it takes to kill him.'

'The sorting?'

'The hat asked me where I would like to be. I chose Slytherin. To get to know my enemy.'

'Your friendship with Draco Malfoy?'

'A part of it.'

'Neville Longbottom's Remembrall?'

'You saw that?'

'I did.'

'It belonged to him. I only did what felt right in returning it.'

'Very well.' Dumbledore got to his feet. 'You have convinced me of your intent. I will do my best to aid you.' He walked a few paces away, then stopped and turned to glance one last time at Harry. 'And see you do not fall into the Dark Arts. Get some rest. We will speak more soon.'

Fall to the Dark Arts? 'That will never happen.' Only he was present to hear his declaration.