CH1 - Desperate Times

The Mirror of Erised was truly an amalgamative wonder of enchanting, ancient runes, and a plethora of other magical disciplines. However, the intricacy of its existence paled in front of the spells recently woven into it to prevent Voldemort from retrieving what had been placed within.

Of course, Voldemort was no ordinary wizard. With time, the protections placed upon the mirror would fall to his magical prowess.

Time…

The one resource that Voldemort, currently in a parasitic relationship with a relatively weak wizard, further weakened by his dependence on unicorn blood, did not possess.

Dumbledore…

There was no other witch or wizard in the world who vexed him as much, save perhaps the Potter boy.

And so, Voldemort did not hesitate longer than a few minutes before commanding Quirrell to take the entire mirror along with them.

All it took was one enlargement on a bag previously enchanted with an undetectable expansion charm, followed by a simple Wingardium Leviosa, and the mirror was safely ensconced within an easily portable pouch attached to Quirrell's waist.

Quickly retracing his steps, Voldemort passed through the barrier of flames, only to find the very man he had been mentally cursing only five minutes prior.

"Dumbledore," Voldemort attempted to greet amiably as he swiftly took control of Quirrell's body. He failed to keep the venom out of his voice. Despite being an occlumency master, it was quite difficult for him to keep his loathing for the wizard in front of him at bay.

"Tom," Dumbledore said simply in acknowledgment, with his usual cheery yet strong voice.

Yet, from the tenseness of his muscles and the position of his hand on his wand (the magical one), Voldemort knew that Dumbledore wasn't quite as comfortable as he was trying to project.

Ahhh. That could perhaps be attributed to the young man lying on the ground behind the headmaster, and the bushy-haired girl furiously attempting to shake him back into consciousness. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

"How fortunate," Voldemort smiled eerily. "The two biggest stones in my path, here together for me to eliminate once and for all."

Dumbledore scoffed. "Come now, Tom. Even at your peak, you would have to expend a considerable amount of energy to subdue me. In the state that you are now, victory is practically mine already," he ridiculed, still with a gentle smile on his face.

"Perhaps you are right," Voldemort begrudgingly admitted. "But, in the time it would take you to vanquish me, can you guarantee that no stray spells would hit your two charges here," he queried patronizingly as he gestured with his wand behind Dumbledore.

"After all, you and stray spells have a bad history, do they not?" Voldemort mocked. "How old was your sister when she died?" he asked with fake sympathy.

Dumbledore's face turned stony. He turned his head slightly to gaze upon the still comatose Harry and then at Hermione's panic-stricken face, before turning back to face his adversary.

"Let us not talk in circles. I presume you have a deal you wish to make, Tom. State your terms," the headmaster bit out harshly.

Voldemort's face turned impassive. "If we duel, I assure you I will kill Harry Potter, while you at most, will only be able to banish me. I have cheated Death before, and I can do so again."

"However," Voldemort countered, "if you let me pass in peace, I shall grant you the same courtesy."

"I wish there could be peace, Tom," Dumbledore said as he sighed. "Alas, with you, such a thing is no longer possible."

There was silence only for a few scant moments before Dumbledore spoke again.

"I will take you up on your offer. But do not believe that you have gotten away with this Tom," Dumbledore warned.

"We will see about that, old man," Voldemort laughed freely with relief as he pulled out a broom from his pouch and mounted it.

Speeding through the halls and up the trapdoor, Voldemort fled from the castle out a tiny window on the third floor.

As he turned his head back to take one last look, Voldemort saw Dumbledore standing menacingly on the ramparts.

He saw Dumbledore's mouth move more than half a kilometer away, yet he could hear his voice clearly as though they were mere meters apart.

"You cannot hide from me forever Tom."

*-*-*-*

- (Scene Break) -

*-*-*-*

After a miraculously simple theft of one of the greatest magical creations of the wizarding world, things had, unfortunately, only gone downhill for Voldemort.

Just as he had predicted, extracting the stone from the mirror proved to be an exercise in patience, involving numerous trials and errors. With the stone finally in hand, however, Voldemort did not experience any of the triumphant feelings he expected he would after the nearly six months it had taken him to reach this stage.

The stone was a dud.

Was it capable of turning metal into gold? Check

Was it capable of prolonging life to such an extent that it bordered on immortality? Check.

Was it capable of allowing Voldemort to resurrect and regain a body that could conduct the high amounts of magic that he used on a regular basis? Nope.

Even with the incredible capabilities of the stone, Voldemort was left in the same position as he was a year and a half ago. The only upside was that his possession of Quirrell was now complete, and no longer unstable. In fact, Quirrell no longer existed at all, his soul having moved on, leaving only the wraith of Voldemort behind in his body.

Quirrell's body…

His broken, unicorn blood-damaged, weak body that could only channel paltry amounts of magic. Voldemort estimated that Quirrell's body would not even be able to handle the full force of his magic while he was Hogwarts aged after making his first Horcrux, let alone now.

Horcruxes were another thing that had been on Voldemort's mind recently, and not in a reassuring manner as they were normally.

*-*-*-*

REPEAT MYSTERY ATTACKS AT HOGWARTS! ARE OUR CHILDREN IN DANGER?

…

December 1, 1992

…

First on Halloween, and now the day after a Quidditch match attended by many elites of the Wizarding World, Hogwarts has played host to crimes most unnerving and mysterious.

…

- The Daily Prophet

*-*-*-*

Petrification. A very rare symptom to say the least. How many spells or animals were there in the world that could be behind the attacks happening at Hogwarts? Not many, he was certain. And if Voldemort was aware of that, he knew that Dumbledore must be as well.

One thing was for sure. Lucius Malfoy would be getting crucio-ed for months whenever Voldemort got his hands on him.

Or… maybe not.

*-*-*-*

SLYTHERIN'S MONSTER IDENTIFIED AS A BASILISK! MYSTERIOUS PERPETRATOR IDENTIFIED AS LORD LUCIUS MALFOY! MAJORITY SWINGS IN THE WIZENGAMOT!

…

January 16, 1993

…

The petrification found as the common thread between victims was not caused by any spell common or exotic, but instead by one of the foulest of beasts known to wizardkind! A basilisk!

…

Taking charge, decorated war veteran, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, single-handedly slew the monster of Salazar Slytherin's newly discovered Chamber of Secrets!

…

Through the use of pensieve memories and witness statements, an emergency trial held by the Wizengamot mere hours after the Basilisk's slaying identified Lucius Malfoy as the perpetrator behind the unleashing of the monster. According to trial transcripts, this was done through the use of an extremely dark artifact later confiscated by Albus Dumbledore.

…

Lucius Malfoy is to be sentenced to 75 years in Azkaban prison for innumerable charges of child endangerment, attempted murder of a minor, and many more!

…

With both the Malfoy and Black seats in the Wizengamot no longer having any claimant, the majority shifts to the Light for the first time since Albus Dumbledore was elected Chief Warlock in the 1940s!

…

- The Daily Prophet

*-*-*-*

After his rage finally settled, Voldemort became pensive. Dumbledore was being aggressive. More aggressive than he had ever known or estimated the man to be. He had no doubt that Dumbledore had been required to call in countless favors to achieve this outcome. Not only had he managed to get pensieve memories admitted into official Wizengamot evidence, but he had also pushed for harsh sentencing.

Voldemort had to admit, it was a bold and cunning move. In one fell swoop, Dumbledore had robbed him of a loyal follower, and a Wizengamot majority that favored Voldemort's ideals.

Not to mention, much of his financial support was gone as well and would have to be rebuilt. Even though Voldemort had the Philosopher's stone in his possession, he could not overly rely on it. Making money appear out of thin air had dire consequences, both for the person who did it and for the economy as a whole. No. This was not an avenue he could pursue.

'Well then,' Voldemort sneered as he cracked open a book in Egyptian hieroglyphics titled "The Sands of Time," 'desperate times call for desperate measures.'