98 Coming and Going
"Remember his warning at the start of the year?"
Harry tilts his head, starting to realise where he was going with this. "The one about the Third-Floor Corridor?"
Quirrel nods sharply, "He thinks to safeguard in amongst children, that I would not try to get it back for fear of harming them... He is right, but as you know, there are many ways to crack an egg."
Harry slowly nods, wondering if this guy was just a would-be thief or Nicholas Flamel himself trying to get his stone back. Either way, he wasn't returning it. "What did he steal?"
"That's none of your concern. All you need to know is that we have a common enemy, one who has schemed against us both." Quirrel concludes, leaning forwards on his desk. "I want to work with you, Harry. Do you feel the same?"
...
Quirrel's eyes bore into him and Harry could feel the tension in the room rising, as if the request had been made at gunpoint. Still, he wasn't one to yield to threats. "What can you do for me? And what do you want me to do for you?" he questions, not giving an inch.
"It all depends on what you yourself want... Do you want to hurt Severus? Hurt Dumbledore? Or perhaps you'd like to simply end them both? For your side of the deal, I would have you investigate certain things while I am preoccupied."
...
"I'll think about it." Harry settles, deciding to broach the subject later. "Will our lessons continue?"
Quirrel nods, "Of course, and now that you know the truth I can start teaching you, darker avenues of power."
Harry quirks a small smile at that, but as he heads for the door he pauses, "Professor, would it be possible to give me permission to access the Restricted Section of the Library?"
"No, not right now. The Headmaster would have questions, ones that I would not be able to answer. Perhaps towards the end of your First Year... Oh, and Harry, do watch out for Mr Shaun Elliott, he seems to blame you for the bludger that hit him, Madam Pomfrey might be better than this school deserves, she won't be able to heal such a grievous injury, not completely at the very least."
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor."
----------------------------
"Where is it?... Where is it!?" Harry demands in a rage as he strips the sheets from his bed, opening every drawer and wardrobe, and even checking under the furniture. After ten minutes of searching, he spins and turns a scathing glare at his dormmate. "Did you take it, Nick...?" he coldly asks, stepping towards the now cowering boy.
"N-no! I didn't touch anything, Harry!" Nick yelps, falling backwards onto his bed and crawling to place his back against the wall.
"Nanthisk?" Harry hisses, glancing at the snake sleeping next to the underwater window. "Did he steal anything?"
"I do not know Massster... I wasss sssleeping..." the snake admits, Nick sweating heavily at the blunt display of parseltongue.
"P-Please, why would I take anything from you!?" he points to his bruised and slightly swollen black eye, "I-I already have enough to worry about in this House!"
...
Harry scowls but relents, even with his subpar level of Legilimency the terror and honesty he could feel from the boy was obvious. Besides, it wouldn't make sense for him to steal what'd been lost.
He'd lost his bag of holding, but he'd begun to transfigure it to look like varying pieces of trash every day to stop anyone from trying to steal it. He'd even had Nanthisk keeping watch over it, simply because of what it held... Grindelwald's skull, his Tomes, the Philosopher's Stone, etc.
Wait...
He shoots a silent stunning charm at Nick and calls aloud, "Blitzy?"
*Pop!*
"Yeeesss Maaster!" the Imp appears before them, surprising Harry at the number of changes the creature had gone through compared to its previous form.
Shaking his head, he shoots the Imp a glare and steps towards it with violence heavily implied. "Did you throw something away in here? A balled-up brown paper bag?"
...
The Imp pauses in thought for a couple seconds before its glowing yellow eyes light up in recognition, "We's did mastaa! Throws it away to the litter room!"
"You stupid bastard!" Harry snaps, grabbing the thing's large ear and using it as leverage to slam its face into the ground, breaking its nose and causing blood to stain the carpet. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!?" he shouts, pounding its head another couple of times for good measure, leaving its mouth, cheeks, and face bruised and bleeding.
"N-nooo mastaa... Blitzie's been good! We's swears it!" it pleads but doesn't do anything to resist him.
"WHERE IS IT THEN!?" he shakes the beast, "Tell me where you threw it! Or I swear I'll skin you alive and clothe you in it!" he threatens, causing the demon to start sobbing and whimpering.
"W-w-we's puts it in the comes and go's room! Its be's still there! Only we's go inside!"
Harry relinquishes his grip on the ear and stands, brushing his hands off, "Take me to it, or I'll feed you to my snake."
"Y-yes, mastaa..."
---------------------
"So 'this', is where all the House Elves keep stolen items...? You had better not be lying to me." Harry growls and begins examining the painting of Barnabas the Barmy, figures it'd be a wizard stupid enough to teach trolls to dance, instead of simply enslaving them with magic.
"Y-yous needs to want the rooms's mastaa! Otherwise it wont be's here!" explains the former elf.
"Need to want it...?" Harry parrots in slight confusion. "You do it." he orders, and the Imp jumps up to do as told. He watches as it closes its eyes and spins in a circle, a door miraculously manifesting at a nearby wall.
He pushes past the Imp and opens the door, his eyes widening at the sight. He'd been expecting a regular room, perhaps piled high with trash, but no... It seemed almost never-ending, hundreds of thousands of various objects, furniture, and other miscellaneous things stacked up high enough that no one with an ounce of caution would dare tread nearby it, the threat of being buried should outweigh one's curiosity.
Harry wasn't deterred though, not only did this place contain his books and the Philosopher's stone, it probably concealed other lost treasures too. Perhaps books that'd been discarded for being too dark for modern wizards, or artifacts left behind by thoughtless students and teachers. He knew for certain almost no one actually spoke to the house elves in the school, so for all intents and purposes, Harry regarded it as his personal property.
