Harry did not awaken until late the next morning. His dreams had been a continuation of what he witnessed in the mirror, and he had fought to remain asleep. The dream world of the mirror was much more pleasant than the real world. When he finally opened his eyes, he stared at the ceiling above his bed considering how things could have been if only his parents had not been murdered, if only his Aunt and Uncle had loved him as he loved them. How different would he be had he ever known any love?
The Christmas holidays came to an end, and things got back to normal at Hogwarts. The students, most notably two Ravenclaws and one Slytherin, increased their studying as they prepared for the looming exams.
Through all his preparation, two things remained on his mind: the three-headed dog and the mirror. He told Hermione about the dog, but would never tell a soul about the mirror or what he saw in it.
Days and weeks sped by, and the bitter cold of winter gave way to the pleasantness of spring.
Harry learned through the Hogwarts rumor mill that Hagrid had been placed on probation for owning a live dragon. Apparently, Dumbledore was the only thing keeping the distraught man out of Azkaban.
Hagrid had spent the better part of the year attempting to get Harry to visit him for tea, but had been unsuccessful. Hagrid was a nice enough man, but not much of a conversationalist. Nevertheless, Harry decided to pay the man a visit in an attempt to console him, and if he received any information, so much the better. The three-headed dog seemed to be a manifestation of Hagrid's fixation with dangerous beasts. Coupled with the withdrawal he had made from Gringotts, Harry had reason to believe that Hagrid knew a great deal about whatever was being hidden in the school. The dog was, quite clearly, standing atop a trapdoor and protecting whatever Hagrid removed from the vault.
Harry informed Hermione of his plan, and set off for Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forrest. He was surprised at how long it took him to reach his home. Hagrid opened the door on Harry's second knock. Tears cascaded down the large man's face as he wrapped his arms around Harry in a crushing embrace. Harry noticed that he looked more unkempt than usual; his hair was matted against his head and his eyes, glistening with tears, were bloodshot.
"Yeh heard abou' Norbert then, Harry?"
"Is there anything I can do, Hagrid?"
"Nah," he bawled, "Dumbledore's doin' all tha' he can. Great man, Dumbledore." Harry patted his shoulder awkwardly, and Hagrid began telling him stories about the baby dragon.
Harry stayed with Hagrid until dark, and the man was beginning to compose himself. He still looked a mess, but his sobs had become much less frequent
As Harry stood to leave, he attempted to catch the man off guard and decided to forgo subtlety, thinking it would be wasted on him. "Hagrid, what did you take from Gringotts on my birthday?"
"I can' tell yeh tha'. 'S none o' yer business."
"Whose business is it?"
"Professor Dumbledore's and Nicholas Flamel's, o' course."
Harry's eyes widened. He had read about Flamel in the book Hermione had given him for Christmas, and knew he was the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone. He could not believe that Dumbledore would keep an item capable of sustaining eternal life in a school.
Harry thanked Hagrid for his hospitality and sprinted back to the school to tell Hermione what he had discovered.
Later that night, Harry sat restlessly on his bed with the curtains drawn around him, the revelations of the day preventing him from sleeping. He felt the need for comfort only loved ones could provide, and again mourned the fact that he had none. After he was sure everyone else was asleep, he pulled on his invisibility cloak and resolved to find the mirror again.
He had no idea where the mirror was located. His best option, he decided, was to head back to the third floor corridor and attempt to follow the same route he had when he was running from the dog. He silently made his way toward the forbidden corridor, again careful to avoid any of the castle's other inhabitants.
His heart began racing as he saw another person exit the corridor. Professor Quirrell walked briskly through the passageway and toward Harry, with a smirk Harry had never before observed on the man plastered on his face. Fortunately, he seemed to be distracted and did not notice Harry as he approached him. As he passed, Harry heard him say, "My Master, we will retrieve the Stone tomorrow night." The exaggerated stutter was conspicuously absent.
Early the next morning, Harry and Hermione were deep in conversation regarding what Harry had heard the night before.
"Harry, we have to tell Professor Flitwick," Hermione urged.
"Okay," Harry relented, "But I don't expect him to believe us."
"Professor Flitwick," Hermione yelled as they entered his office without knocking, "We need to tell you something."
"What is it, Miss Granger?" he asked politely.
"Professor Quirrell's going to steal the Philosopher's Stone!"
The Professor paled at the mention of the Stone. "You two never cease to amaze me. A credit to the House, both of you. I am most impressed you managed to find out about the Stone, but I assure you, it is quite safe. Professor Quirrell is a trusted member of the faculty."
Harry nodded resignedly. "Would it be possible for us to speak with Professor Dumbledore?"
"I'm afraid not, my boy. He was called away by the Minister, and is not expected back until much later."
"Thank you for your time, professor," they intoned, admitting defeat on this front, but refusing to let the matter rest.
As they left Flitwick's office, Harry looked at Hermione determinedly. "If they won't help us, we'll stop Quirrell by ourselves. Are you with me?"
"Always."
"We can't beat Quirrell in a fair fight, especially if his Master is who I believe he is," Harry said, rubbing his hand through his hair.
"There's no reason to fight fair, then," she said simply, and Harry grinned at her.
"Hermione, have you ever seen an invisibility cloak?"
Harry and Hermione had been waiting, under his invisibility cloak, in the forbidden corridor since early in the afternoon. They had taken a light lunch, both too nervous to eat much. They had both skipped their afternoon Herbology class, as they agreed stopping Quirrell was more important.
Their emotions had shifted several times throughout the stakeout. At first, it had been exhilarating. They were working together, with no other help, to stop the bad guy. After waiting for an hour, with nothing happening, the exhilaration had turned to boredom. They knew Quirrell would not be coming until night, but got there as early as they could to make sure there were no mistakes. As more time passed, the boredom changed to fear. They knew this was risky; they were facing a fully trained wizard who had tricked the entire castle, including Albus Dumbledore, into believing him to be an incompetent fool for an entire year. If anything went wrong, they would surely be killed.
After what felt like weeks, they finally heard noise coming from the front of the corridor. Quirrell, trailed by a levitated harp, stalked down the corridor in the direction of the room housing the three-headed dog. As Quirrell stopped to unlock the door, Harry and Hermione threw off the invisibility cloak and shouted, "Stupefy!" The two stunners hit Quirrell in the back before he was able to react, sending the man crashing headlong into the door.
Harry quickly moved forward and pointed his wand at the unconscious Defense professor. "Incarcerous!" he yelled, and thick ropes wrapped themselves around the man. He stepped forward and removed Quirrell's wand from his unmoving hand.
Harry turned to Hermione. "Go find Professor Snape. He's the only one who never trusted Quirrell."
Hermione pulled Harry into a quick embrace before sprinting down the corridor and to the dungeons to find the Potions Master.
Harry stood over the man after Hermione had left, and decided that he needed some answers. Using his foot, he rolled Quirrell onto his back and revived him. He sputtered as he regained consciousness.
"P…P…Potter? What's th… th… the meaning of this?"
"Drop the act, Quirrell. Why were you trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"
He growled as he realized he had been beaten, "Very well, Potter. You are too precocious for your own good."
"My own good, Professor? It seems you're the one tied up on the floor. You're going to answer a few questions for me."
"What makes you think I'll answer anything?"
"It's simple, really," Harry said, smirking, "You will answer my questions or die."
Quirrell laughed patronizingly. "You don't even know the curse, Potter."
Harry placed his wand in his pocket and stooped down next to the professor. He whispered directly into the man's ear, "Avada Kedavra."
Quirrell gasped, but remained defiant. "Mere words, boy. Say them all you like, but you'll accomplish nothing.
"For once, we are in agreement." Quirrell smirked, and Harry pointed his wand at the door to the room with the three-headed dog. "Alohomora!"
Quirrell's grin turned feral. "Going after the Stone yourself, are you Potter?"
"I shall ask once more: Why did you try to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"
Quirrell remained silent, and Harry grinned at him viciously. He slowly pushed the door open, and a loud growl emanated from the room. "Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, and the bound professor was lifted a foot off the ground. He screamed as Harry directed him through the door with his wand.
"I'll talk, Potter! I was taking the Stone for my Master, Lord Volde," Quirrell started, before bursting into flames as a vapor drifted out from his turban and disappeared.
Harry doused the burning man with water, but was far too late. Only ashes remained.
Severus Snape was a confused man. He was currently sprinting after Hermione Granger to the forbidden corridor, where she and Harry Potter had detained Professor Quirrell and prevented the theft of the Philosopher's Stone. He had never trusted the man, but the situation was a bizarre one. How did two students find out about the Stone?
He ran into the corridor just in time to witness the man burst into flames and a spirit depart from his body. He felt a sharp pain on his left forearm, and things clicked into place. Quirrell had been possessed by the Dark Lord, and was trying to steal the Stone to revive his Master. Snape had long suspected that Quirrell was trying to steal the Stone. He just had not known why.
Somehow, Potter had managed to stop him. Truthfully, the boy had grown on him throughout the course of the year. He was a talented brewer, and reminded Snape a great deal of Lily. He rushed forward to pull him away from the ashes of the former Defense Professor. "Mr. Potter, would you accompany me to the Headmaster's office? He has just returned from London."
Harry sat in front of the Headmaster's desk, and Dumbledore was staring at him, his eyes twinkling merrily. "My dear boy, I am incredibly proud of your actions this evening. Based on what Severus has told me, you managed to delay the return of Voldemort."
"Delay, sir?"
"Oh yes, I'm afraid so. Voldemort will return some day."
"I'm not surprised, really. Headmaster, what caused Quirrell to combust?"
"I believe that was the work of Voldemort. Quirrell was trying to betray him to save himself, so Voldemort severed their connection, destroying the poor man." Dumbledore paused. "I suppose you are quite tired, Harry. You are free to return to your dormitory."
Harry did not accept his dismissal. "I have more questions, sir. What will be done with the Stone?"
"It must be destroyed. It is far too powerful an object to allow Voldemort to obtain."
Harry nodded his head in agreement, and silently pondered whether he should confide in the wizened Headmaster. "Professor, earlier in the year I came across a rather extraordinary mirror." Harry struggled internally, debating on how much he should reveal. Dumbledore nodded his head for him to continue. "I saw my parents."
"The Mirror of Erised. You are quite correct Harry, it is indeed extraordinary. It shows us the deepest desire of the heart."
"Would it be possible," Harry began, suddenly feeling very small, "For me to see it again?"
"I'm afraid not, Harry. I was forced to move it after discovering that another student had been ensnared by its allure."
"Is she alright?" he asked, thinking of a Slytherin with vulnerable blue eyes.
"The mirror was removed before it could do any lasting damage. I must ask you not to search for it. Our desires are important, but we mustn't let them consume us."
"Yes, sir."
Daphne Greengrass sat by herself at the Leaving Feast. She was the ultimate pariah, avoided by everyone. And she would not have it any other way. The exams were over, and she had done well, not that there was ever any doubt. The only students to match her marks were Granger and Potter.
Harry Potter. She still was not sure how she felt about the boy, but was disgusted that he had seen her so vulnerable, so disgustingly helpless. She had tried to avoid the mirror, but was too weak. She had been able to resist its call for nearly three weeks after she had encountered Potter, but felt the pull growing stronger by the day. She had returned, only to be greeted by Dumbledore, with that damnable twinkle in his eye. He had hidden the mirror, and she had been unable to find it again.
If the rumors were to be believed, Potter had rescued Granger by killing Quirrell in a duel. Of course, Daphne did not put much stock in the Hogwarts rumor mill. She knew Potter had saved the day somehow, but did not know what he had done. The massive amount of points awarded to Ravenclaw on the day after Quirrell disappeared suggested that Potter had done something to oust Quirrell, but the rumor seemed too farfetched.
The train ride back to London went smoothly. Harry and Hermione shared a compartment on the train, and no one tried to force their company upon them. The two boys he had humiliated during the train ride to Hogwarts had made a point to avoid him throughout the school year. For that, he was thankful
Harry had said goodbye to Daphne. She grudgingly repeated the sentiment, but Harry noticed that her frown lessened when he spoke to her, and her eyes seemed less distant. He was determined to have a proper conversation with her next year.
Harry hugged Hermione tightly before meeting Uncle Vernon. The man seemed distinctly uncomfortable with being in the presence of so many wizards, but he kept his opinion to himself. He greeted Harry with cool indifference.Some things, Harry thought,never change.