Year One Epilogue

Quirinus Quirrell stood straight in the graveyard, starlight piercing through the fog.

"Remember" a high pitched voice came, causing shudders to run down his back, "You will faint when I leave. Everything must be prepared beforehand"

' How did I get to this?'

"Yes, master"

' What became of that young Ravenclaw, who was so praised for his talent? Am I really going to unleash this upon the world again?'

"Time runs short. It is too late for second thoughts. Jupiter rises"

His master spoke again, something Quirrel couldn't make out, and a chanting noise seemed to arise from the very ground. Low pitched and full of malice, his stomach turned at the noise. He walked forwards towards the cauldron waiting for its final ingredients.

The fog swirled up from the ground, mixing with the steam from the cauldron. The sparks made pinpricks in it, casting grotesque colors upon the abomination hovering above the bubbling mixture.

Quirrell tried not to look at the misshapen homunculus, but his eyes were drawn to it. His master needed a rudimentary body for the ritual to succeed, but this thing was horrific.

The chanting voices seemed to reach a fever pitch, and his master's voice spoke again. "Begin".

Quirrell pointed his wand at the grave behind the cauldron.

' DON'T DO THIS! RUN AWAY'

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"

Dust rose from the grave and collected itself in a neat pile above the body his master would soon inhabit.

Ignoring his screaming mind, Quirrell continued.

"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master"

For a second, his wand arm was lead. He felt mindless panic begin and pushed with all his might. Then-

Pain. Overbearing, overwhelming pain. He watched, with teary eyes as his left arm, all the way to the elbow, flew to rest above the dust.

He almost couldn't think, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and weep, curling his crippled limb to himself. A spasm flew through his head, as his master reminded him of his purpose here.

"Bl-blood of the enemy" he intoned, reaching into his robes and pulling out a stoppered vial, "forcibly taken, you w-w-will resurrect your foe" The

blood streamed out of the vial and went to join his hand.

His hand. ' what have I done'

And then, he felt pain so great that his missing arm was but a scrape compared to it. Quirinus Quirrell screamed as his master left him and then knew no more.

Lord Voldemort arose from the cauldron.

"It is good to have a body again"

He ran his long fingers over his arms and chest, ran them up his face. He looked up at the sky and laughed a terrible sound.

He stepped over to the prone body of Quirrell. "You were a useful fool. It is a pity you could not survive my leaving"

Rummaging through Quirrell's robes, he pulled out his wand.

' Yew and Phoenix Feather. 13 and a half inches. My truest friend. Truly, having Quirrell rescue you from the Unspeakables was an act of kindness, not only for myself'

Raising the wand to his lips, he kissed it lovingly.

"You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude," He told the corpse before him, as he vanished it.

Conjuring himself some robes, he set about removing all evidence of his having been there.

' Innsmouth or Dunwhich? Both safe-houses are still in livable condition. Innsmouth is closer to wizarding areas, will make my tasks easier. Innsmouth it is'

As the newly revived Lord Voldemort was about to Apparate away, he chuckled to himself. "We shall see how much longer Harry Potter is my enemy for"