Finding The Light

The Turban (edited)

"I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. But I didn't expect Sparrow to get through the flames too. I never took you for a smart girl."

"I'm sorry is that a compliment or an insult?" i asked, "Because neither are appreciated."

"But I thought - Snape -" Harry was cut off.

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering tremble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

"Actually it makes sense," I scratched the back of my head, "You always hear these stories, the pathetic weak guy wants to be big and powerful, it's cliché."

"SILENCE!" Quirrell yelled, i just waved him off.

"But Snape tried to kill me!" Harry exclaimed, still confused.

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend here accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a counter curse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save me?"

I bit back a smile. I knew Snape had nothing to do with Voldemort. No idea how though. but it didn't matter, i was right, and Snape was awesome . . . on his good days . . . which were few and far in between.

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really . . . he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular . . . and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

"Try it!" I snarled, pulling Harry behind me, wand aimed at him.

"Such a brave girl," Quirrell taunted and snapped his fingers.

Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around the two of us. Tight enough to cause me to drop my wand.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls - you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off - and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that I spotted Dumbledore's Desire Mirror in front of the nut-job wearing a turban.

(NOT MEANT TO OFFEND ANYONE!)

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this . . . but he's in London . . . I'll be far away by the time he gets back . . ."

"I saw you and Snape in the forest," Harry blurted out.

I knew what he was trying to do, keep Quirrell talking. Was the mirror really the answer?

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was onto me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side . . ."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it and it truly freaked me out.

"I see the Stone . . . I'm presenting it to my master. . . but where is it?"

Harry and i struggled against the ropes binding us, but they didn't give. We had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much," Harry said,

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "Heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? The two of them loathed each other, Potter against Snape. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing - I thought Snape was threatening you . . ."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face. I smirked a little.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions - he is a great wizard and I am weak -"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it . . . Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."

Quirrell shivered suddenly. I looked to Harry whose eyes were wide. We had to get out.

"He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me . . . decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me . . ." Quirrell's voice trailed away and then he cursed under his breath. "I don't understand . . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

While Quirrell was distracted, I noticed Harry trying to edge to the mirror's view but he tripped and fell over.

"Harry!" I exclaimed, worried.

Quirrell ignored us. He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to mine and probably Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy . . . Use the boy . . ." Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes - Potter - come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet and looked at me.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

"Let Belle go first."

Quirrell's face set in disappointment but he did as Harry said and the boy nodded, walking forwards as I pretended to fall to the ground, scooping up my wand.

Quirrell moved close behind Harry who looked into the mirror cautiously. My eyes drifted to Harry's pocket for some reason as I noticed the shape and size had changed, my eyes widened.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry said. "I - I've won the house cup for Gryffindor." Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said.

I gestured for Harry to come to me and he did. We barely got another two steps before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies . . . He lies . . ."

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?" The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him . . . face-to-face . . ."

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell argued. Harry and I shared terrified looks.

"I have strength enough . . . for this . . ."

Petrified, the two of us watched Quirrell reach up and begin to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it.

Then he turned slowly on the spot. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, a face I knew. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Voldemort," I whispered. Harry's eyes widened. 

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