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At nine, I was waiting in the shadows by the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, having several second thoughts. Draco, true to his word however, showed up a few minutes after I had located a hiding spot. I gestured him over, and he squeezed in next to me.
"Have they gone yet?" He whispered to me. I shook my head, and leant against the wall, waiting. About fifteen minutes later, Harry, Ron and Hermione crept out of the portrait hole, creeping down the corridor. We waited until they were around a corner before following. We crept silently down the halls after them, heading steadily towards the forbidden third floor. All went well until we walked into Filch and Mrs Norris. He grinned evilly.
"Well, what do we have? Students out of bed after curfew." He cackled. "Come with me."
Draco and I grimaced at each other, behind his back, for he had turned to lead us down the corridor. As we neared Professor McGonagall's' office, I gave up hope of getting away tonight. We entered and Professor McGonagall looked up at us, raising her eyebrows.
"Caught these two wandering the halls after hours. Thought to bring them here and they can serve their detention while you're still up."
She looked at us. "Very well. Thank you, Filch. Mr Malfoy, Miss Potter, what were you two doing out of your respective common rooms?"
"Well…" Draco began but I elbowed him, cutting him off. I wasn't going to turn in my brother and friends.
"We were going for a walk, Professor McGonagall. We lost track of time." I hung my head, staring at the floor.
Sceptically, she nodded, and gave us our detention work, a list of tasks to complete such as cleaning around the room, where we were under supervision. It wasn't so bad.
After an hour though, I began to feel dizzy.
"Are you okay?" Draco murmured to me, noticing me standing there, a dazed expression on my face. I tried to nod reassuringly, but my legs gave way and I collapsed, everything going black.
When I opened my eyes, I was in a dark room, with a large mirror at one end. Professor Quirrel was standing in front of the mirror, staring into it, obviously frustrated. When I awoke, he turned to me, smiling.
"So good of you to join us, Amy." He said. I tried to take a step back and found I was frozen in place in this dark room. The feelings reaching my brain did not match up to what I could see, either. I felt sheets, and warmth, but my eyes told me that I was definitely not in a bed.
'Am I dead?' My horror grew; I had no idea what was happening, or where I was.
"No need for panic, we just thought it appropriate that you should be here my dear girl. Perhaps we can use you as a bargaining chip against your brother. Wouldn't want this to get too messy now." He turned back to the mirror again, but I didn't think he was examining his reflection.
I was screaming, but silence met my ears. I felt myself moving, crying out, looking around, but none of it changed the scene before me.
Then Harry walked through the door, alone, looking battered. Fear began to twist in my stomach. What about Ron and Hermione? Were they all right? Why weren't they here?
"You?" Harry said in surprise, seeing Professor Quirrel standing in front of the mirror. "No, it can't be. Snape, he was the one…"
"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he?" Professor Quirrel agreed calmly. "Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-t-tuttering Professor Quirrel?"
"But-but that day, during the Quidditch match, Snape tried to kill me."
I felt my eyes widen, disbelievingly. Was this what they based their prejudice on?
"No, dear boy, I tried to kill you. And if Snape's cloak hadn't caught fire, I would have succeeded. Even with Snape muttering his little counter-curse."
"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry asked in obvious surprise.
"I knew you were a danger to me. Especially after Halloween."
"It was you! You let the troll in."
"Very good, Mr Potter, yes. Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. While everyone else was running about the dungeon, he went to the third floor to head me off." Professor Quirrel turned back to the mirror. "He never trusted me. He rarely left me alone."
I saw Harry raise a hand to his forehead, like his scar was hurting. My arm was burning, and I cried out in pain – silence meeting my ears. I felt a hand grab my left arm and release it again, but from far away.
"But he doesn't understand." Professor Quirrel continued, quiet enough that he could be talking to himself. "I'm never alone." He swallowed before continuing. "Now, what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the Stone. But how do I get it?"
"Use the boy." A cold voice whispered, echoing around the room. A voice I knew only too well. Harry looked around for the source of the voice, confused. Professor Quirrel whirled to face him.
"Come here, Potter! Now!"
Harry began to walk forward stiffly, as if he were a marionette, being controlled by someone else's will. He kept walking until he was standing in front of the mirror, staring at himself in the glass.
"You are Dumbledore's favourite, the golden boy." Professor Quirrel spat. "You will get the stone for me. Tell me, Potter. What do you see in the mirror?"
Harry was silent for a very long time, staring into the glass. I saw his hand go discreetly to his right pocket, which was the side of him facing me, and hoped Professor Quirrel didn't notice.
"What do you see?" He pressured Harry.
"I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore." His eyes were glazed over. "Gryffindor have won the House Cup… and the Quidditch Cup too!"
"He lies." The voice of the Dark Lord announced.
"Tell the truth! What do you see?"
"Let me speak to him."
The blood ran cold through my veins. He was in Little Hangleton, how could he be here? It was impossible. Surely, it had to be impossible.
"Master, you are not strong enough."
"I have strength enough for this." He hissed, and Professor Quirrel flinched. I didn't blame him. Slowly, he turned and began to unwrap his turban. Harry began to back away.
As the last of Professor Quirrel's turban fell to the floor, we saw the face of the Dark Lord growing from the back of his head. Harry looked repulsed at the sight, and I felt ill myself, laying eyes for the first time upon the evil I lived with.
"Harry Potter. We meet again."
"Voldemort?" Harry whispered.
"Yes. You see what I've become? A mere parasite, living off of others. Unicorn blood can sustain me temporarily, but it cannot give me a body of my own. There is something that can. Something that, conveniently enough, lies in your pocket."
Harry glanced at his pocket, and then turned to run. Inside my head, the Dark Lords' voice spoke.
"Now, now, Harry, your defiance is futile. What of your sister?" a hand swept towards me, pointing me out to Harry. His eyes widened, and he halted. I fought, trying to escape whatever was holding me. His mocking laughter resounded around the room as he ordered Professor Quirrel to stop Harry, who was still sidling towards the door. Flames sprung up, encircling the room and preventing his escape.
"Don't be a fool." the Dark Lord said to Harry. "Why suffer, when you can join me?"
"Never!" Harry yelled over the roaring of the flames.
"Bravery. Your parents had it too. A trait well nurtured in Gryffindors. Self-sacrifice is also one of those. Come now, Harry, give me the stone or watch your sister die."
I held my breath, trying to move, trying to make a sound – any sound – as Harry reached for his pocket, bringing out a glittering crystal.
"That's it, Harry… give me the Stone." He held out a hand towards my brother, who was looking indecisively between the stone in his hand and me.
"You liar!" Harry yelled.
"Kill him," the Dark Lord commanded, and Professor Quirrel lunged forward, at Harry, knocking him flat on the staircase, hands around his throat. The stone was knocked just out of Harrys reach, and he struggled to reach it and breathe at the same time. I sobbed, frustrated, unable to help.
Harry gave up reaching for the stone, instead trying to pull Professor Quirrel's hands away from his throat before it was too late. They began smoking alarmingly, and he let go, moving away from Harry, watching his hands blister and begin to crumble.
"What is this?" He cried in horror, screaming in pain.
"Fool! Get the Stone!" the Dark Lord yelled. Professor Quirrel started forward, tears streaking down his face. Harry leaped up, running at Professor Quirrel, grabbing at his face. Professor Quirrel stumbled back, his face beginning to blister, and Harry stared at his hands in horror.
Professor Quirrel started forward again, one last time, but it was no use, for he crumbled, falling dead before he took three steps.
Harry turned and picked up the Stone, as my vision began to go dark, the Dark Lords' power abating. I watched as my brother collapsed, as the darkness swallowed me.