Harry wanted to see his face when he found out how much of a waste all this effort was. Although, the young Slytherin was somewhat sympathetic to McGonagall that looked hopeful that her student was taking his education seriously, only to be saddened by his even lower grades. Still, as long as he kept busy, Harry was all for letting the boy waste his time with this nonsense. He had barely even talked to a person that wasn't a Gryffindor first year or a member of his Quidditch team, which meant that he stopped harassing people and ignored Malfoy's crude attempt at antagonizing him, much to the blonde's obvious frustration. He really didn't know how to deal with it.
As for the Philosopher's Stone, Harry had no desire to find it. Because the corridor is either a trap for Voldemort or a test for Longbottom. It was the only conclusion other than Dumbledore being simply insane and that was unlikely, no matter how much the man wanted the world to see him as an eccentric wise old man. It didn't matter if the trap used the real stone or not, because if it was the real thing, no matter how unlikely it was, then it could be easily tracked somehow, and Harry was not confident enough to fight out armies of wizards with dreams of living forever. Although, it was most likely a fake. Nicholas Flamel didn't really seem the type to give the key to his and his wife's survival to be used as a trap for a dark lord that's not all that different from the other dark lords he dealt with in his long life.
It didn't matter, and even if Dumbledore had arranged to show him the mirror, Harry had no intention of being involved in the man's plots.
Still, nothing out of the ordinary happened until one day, after his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Quirrell addressed Harry, "Mr Potter, could you please stay back for me."
Harry gulped slightly, while his friends left the classroom, leaving the young Slytherin alone with the possibly possessed Professor. He was always hesitant whenever he was in Quirrell's presence. He never met his eyesight or the back of his head, he made sure to never be alone with him, and he never volunteered in any way during class. The man still kept fidgeting and jumping at every sudden noise, but the Potter scion knew that it didn't make him any less dangerous.
The turban wearing professor waited until the last student left the classroom before speaking, "You must wonder why I asked you to stay, Potter."
Harry nodded, "The thought did cross my mind, Professor."
"Well, I couldn't help but notice how advanced you really are during class. I will admit to not having seen someone your age with your competence in a very long time."
Harry simply shrugged, "I just like learning about magic. It's just so amazing, what we can do with it. How could I not want to learn about it?"
Alas, the professor's words cut into his heart like a knife, "You weren't raised by wizards, were you?"
Harry simply stood there stupefied. Of all the things he expected the professor to say, this wasn't it. The man grinned at his reaction, "I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not planning on telling anyone. I could only imagine what might happen if this information was spread in your house."
"How did you find out, professor?" Harry finally asked after a few seconds of silence. He tried to figure out where he went wrong. He didn't really do anything that any other pureblood student wouldn't. So, how did Quirrell know?
"Oh, you want to know where you went wrong. That's the thing, Potter, you didn't, and that's what let me know. Your experimentations with your magic, and your passion towards learning more about it, aren't characteristics of someone who is used to magic as an everyday commodity. You treat your magic as a luxury, as a precious gift, as you well should. Your peers dismiss it. It's too normal for them. That's why I knew that you weren't raised around magic."
Harry grimaced. The man really wasn't wrong, but he really wanted him to just get to the point.
The professor continued, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. You are part of a family that has existed for centuries and helped shape history in its own way. As far as I'm concerned, your attitude towards magic is an advantage, not a flaw. Which is why I wished to make you an offer."
"What kind of offer?" Harry asked.
"Well, as you well know, you're allowed to choose a club to join this semester. Professor Flitwick was very excited when you showed interest in his duelling club, but I'm here to offer you an alternative. Duelling, while a noble art and a respected sport, is not really useful outside of sporting events. You won't really learn any new spells or magic, and in a real magical fight, the instincts wouldn't help you too much. What I propose is for you to study under me, and I will teach you magic beyond any student in this castle."
"Like what, professor?"
The man grinned as if he had won something, "Well, there's the dark arts, the light arts, elemental magics, mind magics, rituals, anything really. It will depend entirely on you. I will make sure that you're the greatest student to ever come out of Hogwarts."
The Potter scion internally grimaced, but he was still curious about something the man said, "The light arts, sir? What are those?"
"Well, Dumbledore probably kept this hidden, but there is a counterpart to the dark arts, called the light arts. They're not as nice as they sound. Honestly, they're not all that different from the dark arts. They're just as alluring, just as addictive, and just as harmful in the wrong hands. You could do a lot of good with both. You can heal with both the light and dark alike, just as you can cast curses with both light and dark arts. This is not magic that you will ever find at Hogwarts. The headmaster has made sure to put any of the books either in his own collection or in the restricted section. So, what do you say, young Potter? Would you like to accept my offer?"
Well, that was more information than he had on the subject in a while. Harry decided not to dabble in dark magic until he had enough of a foundation in magic while making sure not to hurt himself.
Harry wouldn't deny that Quirrell's offer was attractive. He had to sneak into restricted sections, the Room of Requirements, fighting and figuring out every useful spell he could find, and having an official teacher would help speed things along. But with that came the downsides. Quirrell was dangerous, and Harry wanted nothing to do with it.
The Potter scion made a decision and shook his head, "I'm sorry Professor, but that would be taking the fun out of learning magic. I like figuring things out on my own, and a private tutor would rob me of that. And I am excited to test my magic against other students. I'm sorry, but I'm going to join the duelling club."
Harry thought that for a second, the man's eyes turned to red before turning back to their usual brown, "I'm sorry to hear that, Potter. If you ever change your mind, my door is always open. I hope that you will succeed in your endeavours and not regret refusing this opportunity."
The young Slytherin shivered at the man's cold tone, and implied threat. He returned to his dormitory and stayed in his bed, realizing that he almost became the apprentice of the fucking Dark Lord in his first year at Hogwarts. He only hoped that the man wouldn't kill him for his refusal.
.....
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