Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 14

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

Christmas Eve, 1991

The time to take the Sorcerer's Stone was now. With the coming of the winter holiday, students would be out of the castle and back home. Even some of the staff were taking time off, and among them was Dumbledore. The aged headmaster was busy attending a yule-time Wizengamont gathering brought about by the Minister of Magic.

Voldemort could not have been presented with a more golden opportunity.

For the previous two months, the Dark Lord had been gaining knowledge of what other protections lay before the stone. The first was Hagrid's beastly three-headed dog who guarded the trapdoor to the lower levels. After having Quirrell disguise himself as a trader in a pub Hagrid frequented, he got the information he needed at the price of a dragon's egg.

Below the trapdoor was a nest of Devilsnare, courtesy of Professor Sprout. A powerful lumos charm parted the deadly vines and allowed him further passage.

Next came a room of enchanted flying keys, provided by Flitwick. Voldemort did not have Quirrell bother catching the right key on the broom provided; instead, he used the summoning charm, accio.

McGonagall's giant chess set came next, but at Voldemort's instruction, Quirrell won the game in just a few moves. Becoming the darkest wizard in history required a strategic mind after all.

Quirrell dealt with his own troll easily enough. Despite being a mediocre wizard at best, Quirrell at least knew what spells trolls were vulnerable to.

Beyond that was Snape's own potion riddle required to pass beyond a wall of flame. Voldemort had to respect Severus for his choice of protection; it was the only one that required any use of logic. The others had been so easy a first-year could figure them out.

After drinking the correct potion, and passing harmlessly through the wall of flame, they came to a half-circular room with an arch mirror. No doubt, this was Dumbledore's own protection.

"Go to the mirror, Quirrell," Voldemort ordered. "Look into it and tell me what you see."

"I see... myself," Quirrell stared at the reflection. "And I'm holding the stone." An illusion no doubt. "I see you too, master. You're back to how you once were."

"And I soon will be," Voldemort said. "This mirror is all that stands in our way."

"Yes. Nevertheless, how do we get the stone? Should I break the mirror?"

"Not yet," Voldemort responded. "Let me examine it." Quirrell turned to face the opposite direction and lifted his turban so Voldemort could properly see.

Staring into the mirror, Voldemort saw himself as he was; a parasite so weak that he had to latch onto another to sustain himself. It was pathetic. He, the Dark Lord, attached to the head of a weakling such as Quirrell.

And then, it began to change.

He no longer saw a parasite, he saw himself as he once was. Young and handsome with a full head of dark wavy hair and sharp angular features. He looked as he had before splitting his soul before the horrendous magic of the Horcrux's had taken their effect on his being.

The background of the illusion began to change as well. Instead of seeing the firewall glowing, it became white, and a corridor covered in archways and stairs on all four walls. It almost resembled a painting of that one muggle artist, whose name escaped him at the moment.

Four shadowy figures began to materialize, each in a different archway. Two appeared more rounded, one was unmistakably female and the other... well, it was the tallest of the four, and it looked to have a very high collar for whatever outfit it wore.