Next Time Around

A Plan Derailed

As yet another couple of ropes hit him in the chest, Harry grunted. Experimentally, he flexed his muscles, hoping for a little bit more wiggle room when trying to get out.

'Ah, ah,' Quirrell tutted, 'I don't think so. You keep those muscles nice and relaxed.'

Harry sighed and glared up at the man. Grudgingly he relaxed his arms and legs.

'Good.' Quirrell said.

Harry pursed his lips. 'What the hell do you want from me.'

Quirrell shrugged. 'I don't know... a little information, that's all.'

Harry snorted. 'Bite me.'

Quirrell started and raked his eyes over Harry's body. He raised an eyebrow. 'I'm sure you wouldn't want that now...'

Harry frowned, then shivered. 'Right. Scratch that. I meant to say that I won't give you any information about anything.'

Quirrell sighed. 'I thought you'd say that. No matter. See I want some information, but I don't really need it. I know what I need to know... that is to say, I know who you are, Hadrian Potter.'

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Right. And who might that be?'

'I just need some confirmation...' Quirrell went on as if he hadn't heard Harry. He came closer and closer- to Harry's extreme annoyance- and put his wand to Harry's lower arm.

'Diffinido' He said. Harry grunted as the spell caused a small wound to form on his arm.

The small cut in Harry's arm was just big enough for the tiniest stream of blood to trickle down his arm and into the small ritual bowl Quirrell held against his arm.

After collecting enough to completely fill the bottom of the bowl, Quirrell moved away and grabbed another vial of blood. Together he held them up for Harry to see, a satisfied smile on his face.

'You see,' he said, 'to identify someone's blood with a ritual, you need their consent. That's why it's almost never used for nefarious means, as you simply can't do it without that annoying little matter of consent. But checking if two samples of blood are from the same person... that is way less regulated. Because why would it be? The only thing you could do with it is uncover fake personas.' He smirked. 'So nothing should happen if I were to compare your blood to this... random... sample I got from a guy by the name of Elias, right Hadrian?'

Harry shrugged. 'I suppose so,' he said, choosing not to speak to much out of fear he would say something he'd regret.

'Good, good,' Quirrell said with a small smirk on his face.

He focused back on the blood. Taking out his wand, he mixed the two bloods. Swirling them around with the tip of it, he started mumbling something that Harry recognized as some ancient Mayan chant. It was one Harry knew himself- known for being almost one hundred percent accurate at all times, he had to admit it was a good choice.

As the chant ended, the blood lit up a deep blue. Quirrell looked up at Harry with a raised eyebrow. 'Well well... Elias... what a disguise... I must applaud you for your superb acting. How sad you'll never get the chance to develop it further. It must have been very tiring, being scoped up with a bunch of kids for the whole year.'

Harry's face closed off. He leaned his head back to the chair, desperately wishing that he had his arm free to torture Quirrell to insanity.

'Wow...' he said softly, 'of all people... you... you are the one to bust me... I must say I underestimated you.'

Quirrell glared at him. 'People seem to do that, yes. But now I bested you. My master shall see me for who I really am. I will be the one to deliver him Hadrian Potter- and the one to unmask Elias Riddle. I will be looked up to- praised! And you, the everlasting thorn in the side of my master, will be dead.'