Harry Potter and the Seer who helped him escape his relatives

Quirrell and Voldemort

It was Quirrell.

"You," stated Harry.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all. Harry knew it was an act.

"Me," he said calmly. "I was wondering whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

Harry blinked at him and looked around to see if anyone else was in the chamber.

"Surprised to see me?" Quirrell laughed. It was cold and sharp. "Who would suspect p-p-poor, s-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

"No, I thought it was you," said Harry. "I bet you were the one trying to kill me at my match."

Quirrell looked shocked but quickly went back to his smirk.

"You're correct, Potter. Your friend, Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at the match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have your off your broom. I'd have managed it before if Snape hasn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

"I figured so."

Quirrell sneered at Harry. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't try again. Funny, really, he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. What a waste of time, when after all, I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.

"You're to 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 sound like my uncle," drawn out Harry. "You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls – 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 failed 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 Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"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..."

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

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

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to 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.

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

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't budge. He had to keep Quirrell from giving the mirror his attention.

"I heard you a few days ago, sobbing – you were talking to yourself."

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

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