Drarry Oneshots!

Animatum Anima by Boooklover12 pt 3

"Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones…"

Harry Potter sat under the sorting hat.

"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin…"

The hat's frown was clear in its voice. "Not Slytherin, eh? You could be great you know, it's all here in your head…"

An eleven-year-old Harry chanted faster. "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin…"

"Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness, there's no doubt about that… Well, if you're sure… Better be, GRYFFINDOR!"

Under the hat, Harry smiled.

"I'm talking loud, not saying much…"

Harry stood, back straight and proud, upon the steps of headmaster Dumbledore's last protection on the sorcerer's stone. Blood dripped down his cheek, following the creases formed by his determined expression, to pool by his chin. His clothes were ripped and bloody, his knees shook, and his eyes were bright and wet.

Professor Quirrell stood without his turban, face twisted with malice, put there by Lord Voldemort. As the Great Hall watched, he turned around. From the back of his head, Tom Riddle's crimson eyes flashed.

"You see what I have become? What I must do to survive? Once I have the Elixir of life, I may regain another body… But first I need the sorcerer's stone… So, boy, why don't you give me that stone in your pocket?"

Eyes wide, Harry took a few steps back, shaking his head.

"You could be great you know… Together, we could bring back your parents, Harry Potter… For that's what you truly desire, isn't it? All you have to do… All it takes… Is to give me that stone in your pocket!"

For a millisecond, it looked as if Harry would agree, but his face contorted, and he shouted, "NEVER!"

Voldemort snarled. "Get him!"

Quirrel lunged forward, arms extended menacingly toward Harry's throat.

As soon as the two connected, Quirrel winced. For a moment he seemed to pull away, but then he attacked with new vigor.

His bout of determination didn't last long. He let out a torturous scream as his hands blistered before his eyes. Stumbling backward, he held his hands before his face in horror.

Harry glanced at his own hands for a second, before he launched forward to smash his hands into Quirrell's face.

Quirrel howled.

Harry's eyes glazed, and he soon joined Quirrell in screaming, their two voices echoing in terrible harmony.

"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose…"

An older Harry sat on his bed. Moonlight filtered through his window in sections, split by the steel bars mounted to the sill. It glimmered on his raven locks, giving them an otherworldly blue hue. His head was bowed, bangs covering his vibrant eyes. He sat perfectly still, legs crossed, with hands flat on his bed. His very visage was imbued with magic.

It was eerie, how quiet he was. His hair moved in an invisible breeze, so little it was almost unnoticeable, and his fingers didn't even twitch- not even with his heartbeat. His chest did not rise and fall with each life giving breath.

He seemed to be dead while sitting up.

At least until his head snapped up, and his face spit into a wide grin, moonlight bouncing off his teeth.

Slowly, so low that it was almost unnoticeable, a low rumble echoed through the windowpane. It grew steadily louder, Harry's grin getting wider with each passing second as the source of the noise came ever closer.

Bright light splashed across the bed and walls, as a grinning Ron Weasley stuck his head out of a flying car to knock on the window of Harry Potter's bedroom.

Harry leaped off the bed and threw open the window with excitement.

Ron shared his joy. "Hey, mate, we're here to get you out!"

to be continued...

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Words: 630