Harry Potter stumbled through the flames, holding his breath, and dropping to the floor and rolling.
This was the sensible thing to do, he reassured himself, as he came to a rolling stop.
"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" He heard Quirrel's voice say, and Harry felt his own stomach drop to his feet (quite a feat, considering he was still on his side).
Knowing it was too late to pretend, Harry sat up, and decided to play it straight, "I'm Harry Potter, sir, one of your first years. In defense, sir." Two sirs, and reminding the man of the class he taught. Harry'd be lucky to get out of here without Quirrel thinking he was an addle-pated fool, at this rate.
Wait. Work with it.
Harry tried to stand, then landed heavily on his rump again. Head injuries were hard to heal, even with magic.
Above all else, stall for time. For Hermione, for Ron, even, maybe for McGonagall or Snape.
Head injuries made it difficult to perform, but Harry needed to -
Quirrel was talking, and Harry belatedly realized he'd been talking for a while. Harry shook his head, and said, "I'm sorry...?"
"Boy," Quirrel said reproachfully. Harry bristled at the word, but managed to play it up as a stumble. "This is a mirror. A special mirror, as it does not show our reflection."
"What does it show to you?" Harry asked, hopefully the way a curious child who Didn't know this man was working for Voldemort would sound.
"A crown of steel, with rubies in it." Quirrel said, sounding famished.
From the back of Quirrel's head, a different, strangely familiar, voice came, "It's not supposed to look like that! Get me the Stone!"
Harry jumped. Was that Lord What'shisface himself? Harry didn't need to feign stumbling, and nearly falling over.
Quirrel had unwrapped his turban, and Lord Voldemort was on the back of his head. Or at least, someone who wanted the stone was.
Harry shrugged, "How can I get you the stone?"
Lord Voldemort said, "Go to the mirror, and pull the stone out."
Harry went to the mirror (which still looked black to him), and then swayed from side to side. "All I see is darkness."
"Why you little wretched whelp!" he cried, "Avada -"
Harry thanked his lucky stars that he knew the curse's wording. He dropped sideways like a stone, landing hard on his shoulder and hip.
"Kedavra," Lord Voldemort finished, only to see that green light bouncing back toward him. Quirrel dropped like a stone, and Harry saw a billowing smoke cloud rise up and fly out of the room.
Shaken, he backed up to a wall and slid down it to the floor. Here, alone with the ghosts of the dead, Harry cried.
[a/n: He's Slytherin by nature. Of course he knows and wants to use the stone. Nothing nefarious, who wouldn't want some money to do some good?
Leave a review? The whole "burns through the power of Mom's love" is fine, but way more Gryffindor than I thought plausible here.]