The Boy: Brandon Dursely

Chapter 34: To Find

A/N (lowercase intended): hello, humanssss. the return of the comeback!  so, here is a chapter. took me long enough, i know, but... haha. tell me what you think. i hope it was worth the wait. love you all!

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Quirinus was panting from just trying to catch the boy. He hadn't expected Potter to be so damn nimble, and quick on his feet. Whenever Quirrel would shot a spell right at the little menace, Harry would counter it by dodging. It was as if the boy would never run out of energy to run and hide and dodge. The boy had managed to scrape the other man's thigh by hitting him with a simple Cutting Hex. It was bleeding furiously.

Frustration burned through Quirrel's body as another spell missed the supposed target.

"Keep still! Keep still!" He growled through gritted teeth.

The boy had the audacity to laugh, "Spells are not the only thing needed in a duel, Professor."

"Ahhh!" Quirrel wailed in annoyance. His arm was hit by a Tickling Jinx and it didn't help one bit. His whole body started to tingle and he had to cast the counter charm.

The boy laughs again. Quirinus growls like a madman, his saliva forming spit as he does so.

The boy stopped moving, and he looked at his foe intensely, "You are mental, Quirinus Quirrel, but--"

The stopping of his movements was a mistake. Quirrel was suddenly in front of him, murmuring as though he has a conversation with someone. Harry's scar tingled. Voldemort.

But where was Voldemort?

"Yes, my Lord." The man's fingers were sqeezing the blood out of Harry's shoulder, and the boy couldn't help it but feel threatened. The Quirrel he was fighting a few moments before had a different aura, a different body language.

Harry's ear tingled. Quirrel was hissing in his ear, and he clutched his scar. Warm liquid trickled out, like sweat. Harry winced. The scent of copper filled his nose, and Harry had to swallow audibly to halt  the gag. His scar was bleeding.

Quirinus' eyes met his, and a voice, unfamiliar yet at the same time, Harry felt he had heard it before, spoke.

"Harry Potter. We meet, at lasssst."

Harry grinned and bit his bottom lip in amusement. Of course, the Dark Lord.

Harry held his wand tighter, and tighter, feeling the warmth of his Magic being made solid by the wand.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Harry asked, his voice unwavering, "You sent the men to kill them."

The dark spirit in Quirinus' turban laughed hoarsely, "Yessss, and wasssssn't that a wondrousss sssurprisssse, Potter? A great pre-Holiday gift worthy of the Chossssen One?"

"You are a man of queer beliefs, Dark Lord," Harry commented, "And you believed in a man like Quirrel to accomplish the task you set out? What was it again-- finding the Philosopher's Stone? You should have chosen to rot in Hades' Underworld, where hounds like you belong."

"Oh, you missstook me for a dog, Potter? What a low inssssult."

Harry snorted, "Don't make me laugh, it was no insult." Then his face turned stoic, somewhat like Snape's, "I was telling facts, and you know it."

"Why don't you jusssst join me, Potter? Everything would be more easssier! Tell me where the Ssstone isssss."

Harry laughed, "You take me for an ordinary, whining eleven year old, did you? Well, you're not the first. Perhaps not the last, yet I still find it annoying each and every time."