Put A Spell On Me

The Philosophers Stone

"Quirrel?" I whisper. We continue to walk down the steps.

"Stay here." Harry whispers. We nod and wait on a long step a few metres away from the bottom. Harry yelps and puts his hand to his scar.

"Whats wrong with him?" I ask Dylan.

"I dont know." He replies as he grabs my hand.

Harry continues to walk down the stone steps.

"You? No. It cant be. Snape. ... he was the one-" Harry starts. Quirrel turns around.

"Yes. He does seem the type doesnt he. Next to him, who would suspect "p-poor st-stuttering Proffesor Quirrel." He says.

"What the hell? "Raven whispers. Harry continues to walk forward, but stops.

"B-but that day, at the Quidditch match. Snape tried to kill me." Harry says.

"No dear boy. I tried to kill you! And trust me, if Snapes cloak hadn't caught fire and broken my eye contact, I would have succeeded." Quirrel yells.

"Even with Snape muttering his little counter curse." He adds.

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry says a little surprised. We continue to listen.

"I knew you were trouble right from the off. Especially after Halloween." Quirrel says.

"Halloween?" Thomas asks quietly.

"Th-then you let the troll in!" Harry cries. Quirrel smiles.

"Very good Potter. Yes. Snape unfortunately, wasnt fooled. While everyone was running to the dungeons, he went to the 3rd floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again." He says.

"He did it. He wants the Philosophers Stone." Dylan whispers. Quirrel looks at him them back to Harry.

"Be quiet Dyl." Thomas whispers.

"He rarely left me alone." Quirrel says quietly. He turns around to face the mirror. Once again, Harry puts his hand to his scar.

"Thats the Mirror of Erisad. You see what you desire." I whisper.

"Then that means-" Thomas starts.

"But he doesnt understand. Im never alone. Never. Now. What does this Mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone. But how do I get it?" Quirrel cries.

We take a step closer to hear what they are saying.

"Use the boy!" A raspy voice calls from somewhere. But from who.
Quirrel turns to face Harry and points to him.

"Come here Potter. Now!" She shouts.
"Dont do it." I whisper. Harry turns back and I shake my head but he walks forward anyway.

"Shank!" I mutter.

"Tell me. What do you see?" Quirrel commands.

Harry looks for quite a while. And he grasps his jean pocket. Why? He gasps.

"Well. What is it? What do you see?!" Commands Quirrel.

"I-im shaking hands with Dumbledore. Weve won the house cup." Harry says. Something tells me thats not the truth

Dylan squeezes my hand and can tell hes not liking this one bit.

"He lies." The raspy voice says again.

"Tell the truth. What do you see?!" Quirrel shouts.

"Let me speak to him." The voice says.