he was most displeased. he punished me... decided he would have to

keep a closer wate....”

quirrells voice trailed away. harry was remembering his trip to

diagon alley -how could he have been so stupid? hed seen quirrell

there that very day, shaken hands with him in the leaky .

quirrell der his breath.

”i dont uand... is the stohe mirror? should

i break it?”

harrys mind was rag.

what i wahan ahe world at the moment,

he thought, is to fione before quirrell does. so if i

look in the mirror, i should see myseff finding it -- whis

ill see where its hidden! but how i look without quirrell

realizing what im up to?

he tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass

without quirrell notig, but the ropes around his ankles were

too tight: he tripped and fell nored him. he was

still talking to himself. ”what does this mirror do? how does it

work? help me, master!”

and to harrys horror, a voiswered, and the voice seemed

to quirrell himself

”use the boy... use the boy...”

quirrell rounded on harry.

”yes -- potter -- e here.”

he clapped his hahe ropes binding harry fell

ot slowly to his feet.

”e here,” quirrell repeated. ”look in the mirror and tell

me what you see.”

harry walked toward him.

i must lie, he thought desperately. i must look a

what i see, thats all.

quirrell moved close behind him. harry breathed in the funny

smell that seemed to quirrells turban. he closed his eyes,

stepped in front of the mirror, ahem again.

he saw his refle, pale and scared-looking at first. but

a momehe refleiled at him. it put its hand

into its pod pulled out a blood-red sto winked and

put the stone ba its pod as it did so, harry felt

something heavy drop i. somehow -- incredibly --