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Chapter Text

It was cold.

The sort of cold that swept through what was left of my exposed soul. Youd think that not having a body would rid you of the constraints of flesh. but alas even I lay victim to the biting cold.

It had taken weeks to regain a semblance of function after my body had perished. When I was only just making a dent in the corruption of Albus Percival Will Fuck Brian Dumbledore. Trying to reshape the world before the old fools meddling caused the destruction of all things magic. The widening segregation of wizards and the old ways and the corruption of Hogwarts. How could anyone be so blind as not to see the praised hero turn out child soldiers as cannon fodder for a war they don’t understand.

I had plans.

Great plans only to be foiled by a baby.

__

I really hated Severus. Just because he was a loyal subject didn’t make him any less of a dick. Many willing people would kill him with only a raise of my finger and a glint in their eye. I was surprised he hadn't been killed already. His isolated youth and strange obsession with Potter had made his mind easily twisted. Albus Bloody Dumbledore. The pinnacle of the phalluses. had undoubtedly filled his small mind that I was after his foolish heart. Spoon-fed the worm with a `prophecy` and warded the child to hell and back with dangerous magic

Come to think of it if you're not supposed to do magic while pregnant, I doubt powerful magic that young would be great for his development.

Shut up inner conscience I did powerful magic to kill him not to keep him alive.

Muggle feelings, I shall best you.

He only did it as he was too cowardly to face me in person.
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Peter Pettigrew was surprisingly useful. Despite his unfortunate demeanor being that of an escaped victim of an identity crisis. Him being in constant comparison to the young Black Heir and the potter had shredded his self-esteem nicely. Fear and a simple show of power had him crawling at his feet like his pathetic Animagus form.  He led me to the potters and the screaming parents yielded very little trouble. The boy had just looked up and stared. No tears blurred his eyes over his mother's still body. Just looked up like he couldn’t even fathom someone seeking harm. Arrogant even as an infant. It was then I went to kill him. To prevent a prophecy. To prevent my demise, I thus ended it.

And then there was nothing but the blistering cold.

My disembodied stated proved problematic.

It took concentration but I found I could impose my will onto small animals. I first felt a moth's presence and I soon entered the simple-minded creature's conscience. The moths thought s were mostly instinctual and primitive. The moth's sight was amazing, going from not being able to see to seeing in the dark was a shock. Flying was harder than anticipated. I was never particularly good with a broom so trying to make my now lumbering limbs into any semblance of transportation simply sucked. When I finally got the combination of wings feelers and feet in a line the blasted wind sent me tumbling. Grass becoming dangerous obsticals.it took a humiliating amount of effort not to be attracted to a nearby streetlight.

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I missed magic. For as long as I could remember I had magic. Used magic. Performing little experiments here and there. Giving muggles what they deserved. Hogwarts had shown him the power of it . But Dumbledore's grimy paws were all over the school. How could anyone be so ignorant as to believe a word of his lies?
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A sound filled my ears. I blinked. I had upgraded from a moth to an animal of a larger lifespan. To die as a moth would be detestable. From then a tried a small bird to a doe. The creature was woefully easy to possess and kept my know hooves firmly on the ground. My ears had pricked as a human entered the clearing. I didn’t recognize the wizard, but I am not sure exactly how long ago I was defeated. The mere sight of his dark brown wand had me leaving the body of the bewildered deer and imposing my will on this surprisingly malleable wizard. Quirrell was a dimwitted fool. Possession of his soul was not as hard as anticipated. It sapped my energy, and I wouldn’t be able to do powerful spells, but I gave me a body. A way to do magic and at last some of the blistering cold eased.

I could work with this.

I was undefeatable even from death.

Chapter Text

The turban was a terrible idea.
It itched. But I didn’t trust Quirrell's magic not to mess with me and getting the fool to transfigure the back of his own head and maintain the spell seemed to ask for trouble. I liked having a face. Having an idiot point a wand at it was more than I was comfortable with.
We tried a few options to cover my protruding face. A tasteful green beanie was an option, but it would be problematic in summer. Also, it kept raising up my chin as Quirrell moved and routinely I got a mouthful of wool. Which was not pleasant. A hat covered only my eyes. Quirrell had supplied me with a child's cap with flaps that covered all my face, but it was so undignified I refused to wear it.
Perhaps I was too quick to dismiss it.

---

Boredom had driven him almost mad. Quirrell was a dimwitted fool with the ambition of a cat in the sun. He even believed the old man’s lies. The petulant ape. Also, I refused to believe that Quirrells parents had called him Quirinius. Did they just hate him? It was almost as bad as my father’s muggle name.

Cohabitation was also an issue. Try sleeping with a face on the back of your face. I swear he made the turban smell of garlic for malicious intent. Huffing sweat and garlic fumes for hours on end was not something I would recommend.

--

When the expected message arrived in the daily prophet. Quirrell sent an owl to get an interview.
Dumbldore was only too eager to give Quirrell the job. His curse on the job working well. Dumbldore was easily fooled by the heavily seated turban and incessant stuttering. Showing that he would give the job to any fool that had how even the slightest interest. The previous holder of the defense against the dark arts had conveniently ' disappeared ' mere months ago.

---

The thrill of Hogwarts was still strong. The moving staircases, secrets and the magic of the castle. Here the constant hum of mystery and magic made him feel alive. The founder’s pride and joy. Just stepping through the Gothic archways was nostalgic. He had come home.
The castle always held a mystical appeal.
The children had no such appeal. The loud, grimy peasants had no regard for the efforts of the founders and the Hufflepuffs were just insufferable. One student in particular had an unfortunate habit of opening her mouth. Constant questions and useless facts sprouted out of here mouth like a broken record. It made me hate the stuffy turban slightly less as it at least muffled some of the incessant chatter.
---

I contemplated opening the chamber of secrets again but the hissing words refused to spill out of Quirrells mouth rendering them basiliskless.
Fuck.
---
Harry potter the wretched spawn of the Potters had apparently survived infancy. Hidden away with muggles made his pathetic existance almost sad. He will undoubtedly become Dumbledore’s new pawn. So, for that I didn't order Quirrell to kill him on sight. Secrecy slightly more important than his spilled blood.
Plus his very existence was a slap in a particular potion masters face. The resemblance to the peasant’s putrid father had made the man seethe.
---
Severus was a two-faced bastard. My so-called loyal supporter was pressed so heavily under Dumbledore’s thumb it was surprising he could even breathe through his greasy nostrils.
Despite the old man's heavy influence he still could rub together two brain cells. Which is more than the rest of the Hogwarts staff could say.  Snape was suspicious.
Not 'this guy is possessed by Voldemort and has the dark lord under his turban' suspicious.
But more of a 'your after the philosophers stone' suspicious and ' You set a mountain troll into a school of idiots' suspicious
Bit disappointing really.
He even tried to threaten us. It was a laughable attempt at intimidation.
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I cursed the wretched Weasley. He seemed to always be in two places at once. How dare he enchant snowballs to hit my face under the turban.  If he only knew his snowballs were filling the dark lord’s nostrils with melted snow. The red-haired spunk would regret this until his untimely death.
I told my other half about my curse on Weasley
Infuriatingly Quarrell just laughed and said which one.
There’s more than one of this cursed bastard?
---
Quirrell was dying.  He could barely do magic any more and a brisk walk had him sweating. Very nice being under a sweaty man’s turban. The material was thick and left my face chafed and sore. At this rate I would have to find a new body to posses. Unicorns were hard to track and Quirrells morals were hard to combat as he kept himself alive with the glittery blood.
---
What was Dumbledore thinking when he let four first years go into the forbidden forest. Let aloneat night. With only a lumbering oaf and a fearful dog to protect them.  He apparently didn't give Pettigrew’s ass about health and safety of children under his care.
---
Dumbledore’s great plan of hiding the stone in Hogwarts was flawed. He sprouted so many lies at this point it was infallible that even he started believing them. A simple alohomora on the door of a very suspicious third floor corridor. Then a three headed dog domesticated by the half giant. A fall cushioned quite nicely by devils snare which anyone with half a brain could defeat.
The Flying keys were a nice touch but a simple Accio fixed that. The chess pieces were easily fooled and as long as the opposing sides king got smashed the door opened so a quick spell got that cleared up.
Quirrell had a thing about trolls and easily could knock it out. The potions riddle stank of Snape’s grimy influence and was pretty simple to get past.
Lastly Dumbledore’s bloody mirror. Pretty vain to have a mirror as your part in the scheme. But the concept behind it was annoyingly conning. How the man had not been sorted into slytherin was beneath me.
---
The whole thing felt like a trap but strangely enough it felt like it was set for someone else.
But it made one thing clear.
Dumbledore should not be in charge of children.
---
I was almost disappointed when the potter spawn stuck his electrocuted looking head out of the firey doorway.
Well at least he could get the stone for me and I kill the boy once and for all.
---
Dumbledore must have cursed this kids skin to hell and back for as soon as Quirrell touched him I could feel fire. Fire taking apart this body from the boys fiery touch.

The pain fired through flesh and nerve endings. I had to relinquish my hold over Quirrell so that I didn't perish in the all consuming fire.
Quirrells screams where the last thing I heard.

I really hated that old man.

The cold filled my exposed soul and once again. I was alone.

End of book one.

Chapter Text

I was bored.

No one had written in my horux form since its creation. Lucius was far too smart to write in its pages. Time had past like the unconscious burdens of sleep.

Until long fingers brushed my cover.

My first visitor came in the form of a house elf of all things.

Its grimy paws had found it while cleaning. A surprise house inspection had left the hastily hidden dark objects in a mess. Trying to determine who owned the diary, the house elf examined it.

Opening its pages and then, surprised by its blankness he reached out with his magic. The brief encounter allowed me to reach grab hold of the thread of magic and see into the simple-minded creatures head.

Memories revealing themselves of cleaning, baking and punishing himself. A more specific memory of Lucius standing over him wand in hand. encouraging him in his self harm. Being kicked down stairs and arguing with portraits. From the midst of the creatures’ memories were snippets of the wizarding world. Lucius and spawn discussing Dumbledore and some other teachers at Hogwarts. A joyous celebration or party celebrating The Boy who lived and his victory over You Know Who?. Sounds absurd.

When Harry potter was mentioned, I was of course was intrigued. He turned out to be the cause of my downfall. He cursed my limited form as wished to know truly what had happened too my previous self. They had made it seem like I was dead.

But I still existed.

I had to go to Hogwarts and find this Harry Potter.

Dobby had a wonderfully dull mind and from it he caught glimpses of the wizarding world.  What I didn’t seem to realize then that the connection went both ways. As I could see onto Dobby’s head, He could see into mine.

That’s when Lucius know older and turnip-ish found us.

Focusing the elf away from my pages with a blast of magic. My cover skidding across the polished floor.

Dobby was justly punished and forced to reveal what he’d seen. Telling his master between sobs about the chamber of secrets and my desire to go to Hogwarts and find Harry Potter.

Lucius forbids him from ever mentioning my name or what he’d seen. Lucius forced him to iron his ears and shut his gangly fingers in the oven.

The next person to open my pages was surprising. It was a whiny young girl with the name Ginny of all things. Ginny the Ginger. Doesn’t anyone take naming their children seriously anymore?

She wrote boldly not at all frightened when I answered her. This allowed me to become more present. A piece of my curse becoming lodged in her thick skull.

Ginny wrote passionately. Her fury over her brothers treatment of her could be seen from every hurried brush of her quill. Her mother it seemed was also cause for her distress as she felt she was treated differently from her many  brothers.

She also wrote her name a lot. Ginevra Potter, stylized signatures and hearts.