He wanted to ask for more advice, for assurance that he was about to do the right thing. It would not be his first kill, wouldn't it? Quirrell had not survived their contact. He had not even been twelve years old by then. But before he could open his mouth, the connection broke. It had not been his doing, yet he lowered his wand all the same. Across the graveyard, he could see something wrapped in a dirty blanket ... a thing, that carried the last remnants of Voldemort's soul. He stepped closer, raised his wand ...