Well, she didn't know the headmaster very well but Heri felt that she owed enough to him as another person to try to prevent his property from being stolen. Unfortunately, she was a bit tied up at the moment and didn't have enough slack to do more than wiggle her fingers. All Heri could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror. "I saw Snape follow you into the Forest once!" said Heri, recalling an instance when she had looked out a window and saw the pair going into the Forbidden Forest. "He looked dreadfully upset with you, sir." "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. . . ." Gods above! Voldemort? When did he enter the situation? Heri's heart began to pump faster. Her current predicament was proving to be more dire than she had originally thought. 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?" Harry struggled against the ropes binding her despite the fact that she knew they wouldn't give. If Voldemort was the one that was after whatever stone Quirrell was trying to get at, it meant nothing good for anyone else. Alas, all she could do was keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror. "Snape has always seemed to have something against me," commented Heri. If only she could get at her box-cutter! She kept it with her always, tucked into a hidden pocket she had sewn into her school skirts. "I never understood it since I don't remember doing anything to deserve resentment." "Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually. "Heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other." Heri certainly hadn't known that. She supposed that explained it; Professor Snape did seem like the type to hold grudges. "I heard you a few days ago, sobbing — I thought Snape was threatening you, sir; he's the one you argue with the most." 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 —" Heri gasped. "You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" By the gods, how had he managed to get on the grounds? The school was supposed to have the strongest wards in Britain! "He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "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 seek 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. Then he cursed under his breath. "I don't understand . . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?" Oh, yes, that's a good idea, destroy the container of the thing you're after. That'll get you what you want. Heri silently rooted for Quirrell to decide to go the way of destruction just so she could laugh at him later. What was looking in a mirror going to do for him anyway? Was it enchanted somehow? If filthy and hidden away was how all enchanted mirrors were kept, Heri would be severely disappointed. Still, she wanted to know what the big deal was. Maybe she should try looking in it like Quirrell was doing? Heri tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around her ankles were too tight; she tripped and fell over. Damnation! Quirrell ignored her. He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!" To Heri's amazement, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself. "Use the girl . . . Use the girl . . ." Quirrell rounded on Heri. "Yes — Potter — come here." He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Heri got slowly to her feet. She would have made a run for it if it hadn't been for the flames that blocked the way on the other side of the door. "Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see." Obviously, seeing into the mirror was some key part of the insane process. With luck, she'd be as unsuccessful as Quirrell. Quirrell pushed her forward moved close behind her. Heri breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. She saw her reflection, ruffled and bewildered at first. A moment later, the reflection smiled at her. It put its hand into the pocket Heri had made and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the stone back. As it did so, Heri felt something heavy drop into her real pocket. Somehow — incredibly — she'd gotten the stone. That was just her luck. What the bloody hell was she supposed to do with it? "Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?" Time to lie for Queen and Country. Harry shoved aside her hatred for falsehood and girded up all her audacity. "I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," she invented. "I — I've won the House Cup for Hufflepuff, sir." Quirrell cursed again.
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