Harry stood frozen, staring ahead in shock. He had been right. There was someone there already, but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirrell.

"You!" gasped Harry.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all anymore, like it always did, and his dark eyes were steadier than Bella had ever seen them. She was on alert at once, slowly stepping from the shadows, reaching out to place a hand on Harry's shoulder, ready to shove him out of the way.

"Me," Quirrell was calmer than she had ever heard him, his voice entirely different, deeper, rumbling. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. Miss Lestrange, on the other hand...my, my, this is a lovely surprise."

Harry was already spluttering, "but I thought—Snape—"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, 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? Miss Lestrange knew better, I'm sure. Didn't you, clever girl?"

She squinted her eyes sharply, wand still trained on him. Harry couldn't take it in. "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match," he confessed calmly, Bella's eyes widening, "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?"

"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."

"Over my dead body," Bella's voice was hard as ice. She stepped ahead of Harry, pushing him half behind her.

Quirrell grinned at her as if she were a meal to eat, "now, now, Miss Lestrange, let's not be quite so hasty. I wasn't going to deal with you until after the school year, but no matter now. You're here. Might as well."

"Where is he?" she jerked her chin at him, earning a raised eyebrow, "oh don't play coy. He's always preyed on the weak-willed, hasn't he? Crouch Jr...Karkaroff...Lucius Malfoy. Servants," Bella spat the word out, lips curling into a sneer, "you don't follow if you're strong enough to lead, and you're certainly not built to lead, Quirrell."

"Yes...you have been quite an unexpected nuisance," Quirrell considered, "much too curious for his liking, I've said, scurrying around the school on Halloween the way you were—for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?" Harry spoke up from behind Bella with disbelief.

"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, be a dear and behave yourself, Miss Lestrange, and keep that little pet of yours quiet. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

Bella whipped her wand through the air, but Quirrell was expecting that, countering her curse with a swish of his own wand. She pushes Harry back as Quirrell snarls and throws more spells her way, but Harry could see Bella move forward, countering like an expert swordsman. Harry actually thought she was going to win, his heart leaping—and then, a single mis-step, a blast of red light hit her square in the chest, sending her wand flying through the air towards Quirrell. Before Bella's body even hit the ground, she was wrapped up tight in rope just like the troll in the girls' bathroom on Halloween tight, two ropes tight around her mouth and between her teeth. Bella landed in a lump, immediately twisting and turning hard and fast like an angry snake in a bag, yelling out what Harry was pretty sure were obscenities through her gag, "MMRRPH! MM-MMPH! MMPH!"

Quirrell was white as a sheet on the other side of the chamber, panting heavily as he sagged back against the frame of the familiar mirror behind him. Harry could see the sweat covering every inch of his exposed skin, "I'll...admit...you're much better than I anticipated. A fine witch you'll make one day, little girl."

"MMM—MMM-MMMRPH!"

He gathered himself up, gulping hard, face mean once more, eyes turning to Harry. "Your turn, Potter."

Harry didn't even have his wand out, so it wasn't much of a surprise when ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around his body. He didn't gag him like he had Bella, and, as if reading his mind, Quirrell chuckled, "I wouldn't underestimate her, Potter, but you're little more to me than a flea."

"Now, where I was...," Quirrell turned, holding Bella's wand with his as he tapped his way around the frame of the mirror, "the mirror is the key to finding the Stone...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...with the girl, yes, with the girl..."

"Mm-mmy," Bella caught Harry's attention, eyes flickering hard twice from him to Quirrell. Somehow Harry understood. Keep Quirrell talking, distract him.

"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?"

Bella kept fighting against the ropes binding her, hoping to thrash enough to loosen them even if she knew, logically, that the binding hex was near impossible for a human to break through. From now on I'm keeping a damn knife on me, stupid magic...

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much," Harry kept trying to distract him.

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. 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.

"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, and Bella stilled at last, listening keenly. "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 see 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. "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. Bella squinted. The day she'd met Harry, the day of the Gringotts break-in...but of course...she'd run into Quirrell in the Leaky Cauldron, during lunch. Tried to ask him about his trip to Eastern Europe, but he was a stuttering mess and Tom had told her he'd had a run-in with a vampire. But it was something much worse than a vampire, wasn't it?

Quirrell cursed under his breath. "I don't understand...is the stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Bella didn't understand what any of this had to do with a damned mirror. Harry tried to edge closer to her, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored them. He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

To Bella's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. At once, her eyes locked on that ridiculous purple turban. He hadn't started wearing it until this year. "Use the boy...Use the boy..."

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes—Potter—come here."

He whipped his wand at Harry, and the ropes binding him fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet, and Bella started thrashing even harder than before, her muffled protests louder than ever. "MMMRPH! MMPH! MM-MMPH!"

"Oh hush," Quirrell scolded her, snapped his fingers impatiently at Harry, "come here. Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him. Quirrell moved close behind him. Bella watched as Harry stepped in front of the mirror, his eyes shut behind his glasses in the reflection. A moment, and then he opened them. She waited, stilling once more, but nothing happened. Harry was just standing there, in front of the mirror, and it wasn't doing anything.

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

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," it was so painfully obvious Harry was lying, Bella actually rolled her eyes in spite of her current predicament. "I—I've won the House Cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he snarled. Harry moved aside quickly, too quickly. He hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, hissing like a snake. 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!"

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

Bella felt as if Devil's Snare was closing in around her throat. All she could do was watch as Harry stood rooted to his spot, while Quirrell began to unwrap his turban. What in Morgana...The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it, his once-short prematurely grey hair gone entirely. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

It was a good thing Bella had a gag biting painfully into her mouth, or her scream would've been a lot louder than it was. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Bella had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. She knew that face. It haunted her dreams as a child, she'd seen it in the shadows beyond her bed in the nursery, in the wing she'd since closed off.. She'd thought she'd dreamt it up. No, no, no...

"Harry Potter..." it whispered.

Harry didn't move a muscle.

"See what I have become?" the face said hoarsely, "mere shadow and vapour...I have form only when I can share another's body...but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds...Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks...you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest...and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own...Now...why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

Bella's eyes flashed wide. Harry stumbled backward, but she couldn't see his face.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me...or you'll meet the same end as your parents...They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery...Yes, boy, your parents were brave...I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight...but your mother needn't have died...she was trying to protect you...Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Quirrell's hand closed on his wrist. Harry yelled, struggling with all his might, and to Bella's utter surprise, Quirrell let go of him. Bella watched her Defence Against the Dark Arts professor crumple in obvious, excruciating pain, looking at his fingers—they were blistering angrily, as if Harry had been cursed with Flagrante. Impossible, Bella thought, you can't cast Flagrante on anything sentient.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck—except it wasn't Harry yelling, it was Quirrell, howling in sheer agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him—my hands—my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms—Bella could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

Bella's eyes flashed wide and she did the only thing she could think of, turning her palms as best she could against the ropes, thinking as hard as she could, INCENDIO!

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face—

"AAAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too—Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off—Bella had gotten up to her feet, the gag still around her mouth, ignoring the agony of the burns all over her back as she surged ahead and twisted both wands out of Quirrell's grip while he kept shrieking and Voldemort kept yelling, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

Finite Incantatum!

She had pointed her own wand at herself first, gasping for breath as soon as the ropes biting into the corners of her lips broke apart. She turned her wand back on Quirrell, who was still screaming in agony, "STUPEFY!"