Harry Potter and the Sympathy of Souls

I) "The Truth"

PART ONE: NICHOLAS
YEAR ONE

"I always value bravery." The chalk-white face smirked evilly. "Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died. She was trying to protect you. Now give me the stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "STOP HIM!" The next second, Harry felt heat against his cheek at a red spell shot past him, missing him by a hair.

Quirrell raised his wand to cast his spell again, but this time Harry was expecting it, and he ducked under the spell with an ease that came from months of dodging bludgers during Quidditch practice. Quirrell scowled and cast the spell again. Once again, Harry smoothly avoided it. Quirrell's face was twisted in a snarl of frustration.

"You can't keep on dodging spells forever, Potter. I'm going to hit you eventually. Might as well just give it up now."

"Wanna bet?" Harry taunted the professor, "I could go at this all night, 'sfar as I'm concerned."

Quirrell rolled his eyes, and lazily raised his wand in the air. "Accio stone" he incanted, and Harry watched in horror as the Philosopher's Stone shot out of his pocket, and before he could grab at it, landed straight into Quirrell's hands.

Quirrell examined the stone with a look of rapt fascination. Now that the stone was in his possession, he seemed to have forgotten about the young boy that stood before him. Harry tried to take advantage of his distraction by creeping up on him. Hoping to knock the stone out of his hand, he had hardly taken a step when Quirrell waved his wand distractedly at him, and Harry found himself bound in ropes for the second time that night.

Quirrell spared him a cruel smirk, "It's been a pleasure, Potter, but I'm afraid I must be off. Dumbledore will probably be here any second." He removed his turban, tapped it with his wand, muttering "Portus". The turban glowed blue for a couple of seconds, and a rumbling noise emerged from it, before it stilled again. Before Harry could so much as blink, Quirrell had lightly placed his hand on it, and vanished noiselessly.

No sooner than Quirrell departed, a tall figure rushed through the flaming entrance. It was Albus Dumbledore, but not as Harry had ever seen him before. His hand was held aloft like a sword being held expertly in the hand of a dueling champion, and there was a truly chilling coldness in his eyes as he glanced at the place where Quirrell had been only seconds before.

"I'm so sorry Professor," gasped Harry, trying to keep standing straight, "I tried to stop him, but he knew so much more magic than me! I didn't have a chance."

Dumbledore turned to look at Harry, and his eyes softened. "I'm not blaming you, Harry. You did the best you could. Voldemort is one of the most skilled wizards in the world, and Quirrell himself is quite an accomplished duelist. It would be quite unfair of me to expect you to succeed."

Harry nodded at him gratefully, and Dumbledore smiled gently as he waved his wand and dissolved the ropes around Harry.

"In fact," Dumbledore added, "I am quite impressed with how far you did manage to get. Not every eleven-year-old could have gotten this far in my obstacle course."

Harry felt his neck warm, and looked down shyly. Then, he raised his head up in surprise as something occurred to him.

"Sir? How did you know it was really Quirrell who stole the stone, and how did you know it was for Voldemort? We all thought it was Snape!"

"It's Professor Snape," corrected Dumbledore gently, "and as for your question, I think you will find that if you fight someone as long as I have been fighting Lord Voldemort, you tend to recognize their- ah, shall we say, unique style. This plan had Lord Voldemort written all over it. Unfortunately though, I had hoped that I was wrong. Now, Harry, there is much to do. It is quite unfortunate that Voldemort has managed to acquire the Philosopher's Stone, but all hope might not be lost yet. My good friend Nicolas Flamel has been anticipating it being stolen for quite some time, and I think he might just have prepared for the situation of it falling into the wrong hands. So the next step would be to contact Nicolas immediately and tell him what has happened. Would you care to come with me to my office?"