Chapter 7: Quirrell
As Harry stepped into the final room, he was surprised to see the Mirror of Erised standing in the centre. Even more surprising was the figure staring into the mirror: Professor Quirrell.
–Professor?â€
Without turning around, Quirrell waved his wand. Ropes appeared out of the air and bound Harry’s arms tightly to his sides. Stunned, Harry dropped his wand to the ground. Quirell slowly turned.
–Potter. Rather surprising. I knew I was being followed, but I thought it would be Severus. That overgrown bat has been looming over my shoulder all year. But now, with Dumbledore in London, I have all the time in the world to seize the Philosopher’s Stone.â€
Harry could feel a headache beginning to form, just from listening to Quirrell’s words. Oddly, Quirrell’s stutter seemed to have disappeared completely. The Professor walked over to Harry and picked up his wand from the ground.
–Professor Snape has been trying to stop you?†Harry was desperately processing the new information.
–He has been interfering all year. I almost had the Stone on Halloween when I released the troll into the school, but Snape recognised the distraction for what it was. He went directly to the third floor, and I couldn’t even attempt to grab the Stone. On top of that, he didn’t even get himself properly eaten by that enormous mutt.â€
Snape had been protecting the school. Harry knew that Granger and Weasley were wrong.
Quirrell began to stalk back and forth in front of the Mirror of Erised. –But now, here we are. No Dumbledore, no Snape, and Harry Potter helpless. This mirror is the key to finding the Stone, I know, but how? I see myself with the Stone, I see myself making the Elixir of Life, and I see myself reviving my master. But how do I get the Stone!â€
–Your master?â€
Quirrell laughed. –Surely, you must have realized by now. What better use for the Elixir of Life than to revive the Dark Lord?â€
Harry’s eyes went wide. –Voldemort is dead. He died ten years ago.â€
–If you think that the Dark Lord is dead, you are truly a fool. My master is always with me.†Quirrell turned back to the mirror. –Help me, master. Where is the Stone? Is it in the mirror? Must I break it?â€
Harry was convinced that Quirrell had gone mad. Horrifically, a reedy, rasping voice responded to Quirrell’s question. The source of the voice appeared to be Quirrell himself, but Harry could clearly see that the Professor’s lips weren’t moving.
–Use the boy…â€*
Quirrell walked past Harry, and used his thick-soled boot to kick Harry forward. Harry stumbled ahead, trying to catch his balance, and found himself standing directly in front of the mirror.
–What do you see, Potter? Tell me!â€
Harry closed his eyes, squinting them shut with fear. Faced with a servant of Voldemort, Harry was desperate for help. He thought of the night his parents died, Halloween. He thought of his parents, and how they would have fought to protect him. He imagined them by his side, and wished for the thousandth time that his parents were still alive.
–Open your eyes, boy!†Quirrell struck the back of Harry’s head, and Harry’s eyes snapped open.
In the Mirror of Erised, Harry saw himself, older but not yet old, green eyes glinting. In his hand was the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry’s reflection waved his wand above the Stone. A mist flowed outward from the Stone, forming itself into two human silhouettes. The mist quickly gained colour and substance, and Harry’s reflection was soon flanked by the smiling forms of Lily and James Potter.
–I see… myself,†Harry said. –And my parents.â€
Quirrell flicked his wand, and Harry was shoved aside. –Useless.â€
The strange voice spoke again. –Bring the boy back. Let me face him.â€
–But master,†Quirrell said. –You are not strong enough yet!â€
–Obey.â€
–Yes, master.†Quirrell began unwrapping his turban. When the last wrap was removed, Quirrell turned away from Harry. The back of Quirrell’s head was hairless. A loathsome face was staring at Harry: a slit nose, scaly lips pressed into a thin line, and two malevolent eyes with vertical pupils. The face of Lord Voldemort.
–Harry Potter… Do you see what I’ve become? A shadow of myself, leading a cursed existence, subsisting on unicorn blood for these past months…†Voldemort took a rattling breath. –Your parents. You want to bring them back. A great feat of magic, requiring great power. I have that power. I can teach you that power. But I need the Stone, first.â€
Slytherin could make you great…
For a moment, Harry’s heart wavered. He glanced at the mirror again. His reflection was now standing next to a handsome young wizard with neatly combed hair. The other wizard’s smile was brilliant, but it did not reach his eyes. Together, Harry and the young wizard waved their wands, and Harry’s parents quickly coalesced out of mist.
Trapped by its lies…
Harry ripped his eyes away from the mirror. –No,†he said. –You killed them. You’re the reason I need to bring them back. I don’t want your power. I’ll find my own.â€
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the image in the mirror change again. Now, the young wizard was lying on the ground, facing upward. Harry’s reflection stood over him, wand pointed at his heart. In the mirror, Harry’s eyes flashed bright green, and he drew back his wand to cast a spell.
Voldemort’s rasping voice spoke to Quirrell: –He is of no use. Kill him.â€
Harry spun. As Quirrell raised his wand, Harry leapt at the older wizard’s arm, desperate to stop Quirrell from casting a spell. Harry’s arms were still bound, but the impact knocked the wand out of Quirrell’s hand. As Quirrell’s wand clattered across the floor, the ropes binding Harry fell away. Quirrell and Harry began struggling, and Harry felt a blinding pain in his head, coming directly from his scar.
Quirrell pushed Harry back, but his hands came back from Harry’s body black and charred. –What is this?†Quirrell asked.
Voldemort’s voice hissed at Quirrell. –The wand, you fool!â€
Quirrell scuttled across the ground, desperately reaching for his wand. Harry leapt at the wand as well, bumping into Quirrell. As they scrambled toward the wand, bumping and jostling each other, pain lanced through Harry’s skull each time they touched. Quirrell was screaming. Bits and pieces of his arms and torso were blackening and burning every time he touched Harry. Finally, with one desperate push, Quirrell lunched forward and grasped the wand.
Harry was acting purely on instinct. He leapt on top of Quirrell’s back. Staring into the snakelike face of Voldemort, Harry grabbed the sides of Quirrell’s head. Quirrell’s screams began again. Harry shut his eyes tight and began screaming, as well. At first, Harry’s hands met resistance, but the resistance quickly crumbled away. Soon, Harry’s palms touched. Quirrell’s screaming had stopped.
Harry opened his eyes. He was kneeling in a pile of ashes.
There was a blazing pain in Harry’s scar, and the room went black. Harry collapsed to the floor.
When Harry awoke, he found himself in a bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore was sitting by his side.
–Professor! The Philosopher’s Stone!â€
–It is safe, Harry,†Dumbledore said gently. –I have you to thank for that. And Mr Malfoy, Mr Weasley and Ms Granger, of course.â€
–You-Know-Who was trying to take it,†said Harry.
Dumbledore nodded. –I suspected as much. Once I arrived in London, I realized that I made a grave error. Although Hogwarts was in the capable hands of Professor McGonagall, I can say without hesitation that I am the only wizard Voldemort has ever feared. I returned to Hogwarts as quickly as possible, and was led to you by Ms Granger.â€
–What happened?†asked Harry.
–I was prepared to ask you the same thing,†Dumbledore said with a smile. –If you can tell me what, Harry, I may be able to tell you why.â€
Harry related his experience with Voldemort and Quirrell. As he told his story, Harry realized that he didn’t want to tell Dumbledore what he saw in the mirror. Harry simply said that he saw his family again.
Dumbledore nodded and considered Harry’s tale. –Harry, you are protected by a powerful magic that Voldemort does not understand. It led to his defeat on Halloween ten years ago, and it led to his undoing at Hogwarts today.â€
–What is it, Professor?â€
–Blood magic, Harry, but born of love. It is powerful and ancient magic, brought about when your mother died to protect you. Her last act was an act of great selflessness, giving herself to certain death rather than allowing you to be harmed. The bound of blood and love between a mother and a child is strong. And while Voldemort may understand the power of blood, he has no capacity to understand love.â€
–Upon your mother’s death, her love caused her magic to traverse the blood bond between you. Her magic protected you that night, and continues to do so. Indeed, it is so powerful that your mere touch was able to defeat Voldemort today.â€
–Will Voldemort be back?â€
–I’m afraid so, Harry. I have long suspected that Voldemort’s return was a matter of time. Unfortunately, it seems I was right.â€
Harry was silent for a moment. –How did Voldemort possess Quirrell?â€
–Professor Quirrell spent a large portion of last summer in the forests of Albania,†Dumbledore said. –I now believe that Professor Quirrell succumbed to the darkest of magic in that forest, and has been bound to Voldemort ever since. A tragedy, for he was once a good man.â€
–Why couldn’t Voldemort retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone?â€
Dumbledore chuckled. –I enchanted the Mirror of Erised to conceal the Stone. Anybody who wanted to use the Stone would see themselves drinking the Elixir of Life, or some other variant on that theme.†Harry’s thoughts immediately went to the images of his resurrected parents he had seen in the mirror.
–However,†Dumbledore said, –a person who wanted to merely possess the Stone would see themselves with the Stone being placed in their pocket. Thus, the only person who could retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone was a person who wanted the Stone, but did not want to use it. This naturally disqualifies most thieves.†Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. –Rather ingenious, if I do say so.â€
Harry agreed – it was an incredible protection. If you were a thief and wanted the Stone for yourself, you would want to use the Stone, and would be unable to remove it. If you hired a thief to retrieve the Stone for you, the thief would know that he could make more money by taking the Stone and using it for himself – again, the thief would want to use the Stone, and would be unable to remove it.
–Harry, I must ask you to keep Voldemort’s return to yourself. Or rather, between you and me. The wizarding world would be thrown into chaos if news of his return were to become generally known.â€
–Of course. We’ll just say it was Professor Quirrell then?â€
–I do not like the idea, because Quirinus was once a good friend. However, I believe it would be best.†Dumbledore stood. –I should excuse myself, Harry. Your friends are outside and they are eager to speak with you. You need waste no more time on a doddering old man. If you would grant me one last indulgence, however…†Dumbledore reached to Harry’s bedside table, where a pile of candy and Get Well cards had begun to accumulate. Dumbledore plucked a yellow candy from a small bag. –I am unusually fond of lemon drops.â€
Lemon drops?
Dumbledore popped the candy into his mouth and began walking out of the hospital wing.
Harry called out. –Professor, wait!â€
Dumbledore turned.
–What do you know about Invisibility Cloaks?†Harry asked.
–Quite the non sequitur, Harry,†Dumbledore said. –Much of what I know about Invisibility Cloaks I owe to your father. He once loaned me an extraordinary Cloak.†Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled mischievously. –I cannot precisely remember what has become of it, but I imagine that it is being put to good use.â€
Harry grinned. –I imagine so, sir.â€
Dumbledore turned once more to leave the hospital wing, but pause just before opening the door. His voice was grave, and he spoke without turning around. –I wonder, Harry, why the Mirror of Erised did not bestow the Philosopher’s Stone upon you. If your goal was to prevent the theft of the Stone, thereby thwarting Voldemort’s resurrection, you would not have wanted to use the Stone. You would have wished to possess the Stone to prevent its use. And yet, the Stone remained locked in the mirror.â€
Dumbledore turned slightly, so that Harry could only see the corner of his wrinkled eyes. –Why did you want to use the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry?â€
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. –Doesn’t everybody want to be immortal?â€
–Death is but the next great adventure,â€* said Dumbledore. –Think on that, if you will. Consider it a summer assignment. Or, perhaps, a favour to me. No exams will be given on the subject.
As Dumbledore left, Pansy Parkinson dashed into the hospital wing, followed more slowly by Draco Malfoy.
Pansy sprinted to Harry’s side. –You’re all Slytherin is talking about, Harry. The whole school is talking about you.â€
Draco crossed his arms. –Apparently, being a sacrificial pawn in a giant game of Wizard’s Chess doesn’t carry the same heft as duelling and defeating our own Defence teacher for possession of priceless magical artefacts.â€
–You weren’t a pawn, Draco. You were a bishop.â€
Draco snorted. –I was clobbered in the ribs, is what I was.â€
–Harry,†Pansy said. –You’re famous. Even more famous than before!â€
–Fame isn’t everything,†said Harry, thinking back to Snape’s words at the beginning of the semester. All the fame in the world wouldn’t bring back his parents.
–It might not be everything,†said Pansy, –but it’s something. When you get back to Slytherin, we’re throwing you a party. Defending Hogwarts while Dumbledore was in London – you and Draco are absolute heroes!â€
–I bet Snape is thrilled with that,†said Harry.
Pansy ignored him. –Make sure to sit by me at dinner tonight, I want to hear everything!†With those words, Pansy dashed out of the hospital wing.
Draco remained, but stayed several steps from Harry’s bedside. –Is it true?†Draco asked. –Did you really defeat Quirrell?â€
Harry nodded. –He almost knocked me cold at the end. Gave me the second-worst headache of my life.â€
–Wow. My dad will want to hear all about it. You should visit this summer. We can practice for Quidditch try-outs next year.†Draco finally cracked a smile. –It’ll be great.â€
–I’d really like that,†Harry said.
At the end of year feast, the hall was decorated in the green and silver of Slytherin house. Snape sat at the staff table without a smile on his face. It was as if he expected victory, so much so that it gave him no pleasure.
Dumbledore stood. –I would like to say a few words before the beginning of the feast. Recent events have given me cause to award a few last points.â€
–To Mr Ronald Weasley, for the best game of chess that Hogwarts has seen in years, I award Gryffindor 200 points.
–To Ms Hermione Granger, for excellent thinking under great pressure, I award Gryffindor 200 points.â€
With Weasley’s points, Gryffindor had tied Slytherin for first place. With Granger’s points, Gryffindor led for the House Cup by 200 points.
The cheer from the Gryffindor table was enormous. The majority of the Slytherins had dropped their jaws in astonishment.
Dumbledore smiled and began to speak again.
–To Mr Draco Malfoy.†The entire hall went abruptly silent. –For unity with your classmates in the face of adversity, I award you 200 points.
–And finally, to Mr Harry Potter. For special services to the school, and an enormous amount of bravery, I award you to 200 points.†The cheer from the Slytherin table was deafening.
–Now that all points are awarded, and my taste for drama is satisfied, let the feast begin!â€
*Quote from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, chapter 17, page 215, by J.K. Rowling
AN: This is the end of the first story in the series. Thank you for reading and I hope you will be so kind to leave me a review. I'll start posting the second story soon. It will be called 'Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin'.