The Devil's Son

Disappointments

Dumbledore was furious! He hadn't gotten a single thing from Morningstar, and the elves hadn't found the mirror, or the stone! Where could it be? It had to be someone in the school, the wards hadn't detected anything leaving. He frowned, sitting heavily in his chair, and looking around the office he'd inhabited for so long. He couldn't let anyone get their hands on the stone. Nicholas was already wanting it back, and he had no idea how to tell him he no longer had it. How had this year gone so wrong?

Quirrel frowned, staring down, unseeing at his desk. His master was angry. He could feel it always at the back of his mind, a burning icy coldness. Dumbledore didn't know where the stone had gone, and they hadn't taken it. That meant another was involved in the issue. Severus certainly had no idea of such plans, and all they could think of was the dark creature they had encountered in the forest. His Lord had never seen anything like it. He wondered perhaps if this thing had taken the stone for itself, and insisted they must visit the forbidden forest again. Quirrel was terrified! He didn't want to see this horrific creature again. He only wished they could have stuck to the original plan, luring a troll into the castle seemed so much easier now.
But, his master insisted, and the next night, he would be forced to trek through that hell-scape to find the creature again. For now though, he had to stay hidden. Dumbledore was extremely paranoid recently. More so than usual, almost as if something else was going on.

Hade soaked in the moonlight, breathing the fresh night air as he walked through the darkened halls of Hogwarts. He'd decided that tonight, he'd take the opportunity to explore the library. Specifically the section that Pucey had explained was heavily restricted. No one was around, and he simply strode through, rolling his eyes at how easy it was to enter. They hadn't even used a ward, it was just a goddamns rope. As he walked through the rows and rows of ancient books, they began to shake and groan. Evidently these weren't your average tomes. He looked around hesitantly before releasing his aura, the shelves immediately falling still at his presence. The next few hours we're spent scanning through dusty covers, looking for something to pique his attention. Before he could find anything vaguely interesting, however, a noise echoed from the distance, and he quickly melted in the shadows, waiting for the other intruder. Somehow, he wasn't surprised when Quirrel walked around the corner. His Professor, and whoever else was possessing him, always seemed to be in the darker areas of the school grounds. Much like Hadrian himself. Deciding now was as good a time as any to investigate, he morphed into his demonic form, walking towards the wizard.

Quirinus trembled as he walked through the forbidden section of the library, the evening air sending a chill through his bones. His Lord was directing him to a specific section, apparantely believing it would have some sort of solution, to regain His Lord's body. He frowned as the books gave no reaction, the deathly silence so much worse than the moans and groans. Shadows cloaked the area, and he could barely see past the weak illumination of his Lumos. After a few minutes, he found the shelf his Lord had directed him to, and reached up to grab one of the books. "You, mortal, are just full of bad ideas." He gasped, spinning around to find the source of the voice. Immediately, Voldemort took over, recognising it as the creature from the forest. "Greetings, ancient one."

Hadrian snorted at the address, he was hardly ancient. In fact, he wasn't sure how old he really was. Time passed differently in hell. "So now you reveal yourself, possessor. What do you search for now?" The darker wizard spoke through Quirrel, his voice smoother, and more confident. "I must find an alternative way to have my own body again. I don't suppose you'd have anything to do with the disappearance of the philosopher's stone?" Hade was quiet for a moment, before deciding to be somewhat honest. "I do. Such artifacts do not belong in the hands of mortals."

Once again, Voldemort wondered exactly what this creature was. "That may be, but I am not mortal, and I require the stone. Is there any way I could convince you to part with it?" The being was quiet, and he was forced to take a seat, Quirrels body quickly becoming tired. He had to leave soon, the wizard would not be able to survive much longer. "The artifact has been returned to its origins, and there it will stay." Voldemort frowned, squinting into the darkness, hoping to see the strange thing in the shadows. "You are in contact with Nicolas Flamel?" A strange growling echoed through the library, and he had the strangest feeling that it was laughing. "Nicolas Flamel did not create the stone. It shall not fall to human hands again." Frustrated, Voldemort fell back, looking up at the ceiling. This thing was not going to give him the stone. "Is there nothing I can do to convince you?"