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”better save your own life

and join me... or youll 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 failing.

”how toug...” it hissed. ”i always value bravery... yes,

boy, your parents were brave.... i killed your father first;

a up a ceous fight... but your mother have

died... she was trying to protect you.... he stone,

unless you wao have died in vain.”

”never!”

harry sprang toward the flame door, but voldemort screamed ”seize

him!” a sed, harry felt quirrells hand his

wrist. at oneedle-sharp pain seared across harrys scar;

his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled,

struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, quirrell let go

of him. the pain in his head lessened -- he looked around wildly to

see where quirrell had gone, and saw him hun pain, looking

at his fihey were blistering before his eyes.

”seize him! seize him!” shrieked vain, and quirrell

lunged, knog harry off his feet landing on top of him,

both hands around harrys neck -- harrys scar was almost blinding

him with pai he could see quirrell howling in agony.

”master, i -- my hands -- my hands!”

ahough pinning harry to the ground with his knees,

let go of his ared, bewildered, at his own palms --

harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

”then kill him, fool, and be done!” screeort.

quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but harry,

by instinct, read grabbed quirrells face --

”aaaargh!”

quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then

harry knew: quirrell t touch his bare skin, not without

suffering terrible pain -- his oo keep hold of

quirrell, keep him in enough pain to st a curse.

harry jumped to his feet, caught quirrell by the arm, and hung

on as tight as he could. quirrell sd tried to throw harry

off -- the pain in harrys head was building -- he t see -- he

ly hear quirrells terrible shrieks as yells of,

”kill him! kill him!” and other voices, maybe in harrys own head,

g, ”harry! harry!”

he felt quirrells arm wren his grasp, knew all was

lost, ao blaess, don...

something gold was glinting just above him. the snitch! he

tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.

he bli wasnt the snitch at all. it air of

glasses. he.

he blinked again. the smiling face of albus dumbledore swam

into view above him.

”good afternoon, harry,” said dumbledore. harry stared at

him. then he remembered: ”sir! the sto was quirrell! hes

got the stone! sir, quick --”

”calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behiimes,”

said dumbledore. ”quirrell does one.”

”then who does? sir, i --”

”harry, please relax, or madam pomfrey will have me thrown out.

harry swallowed and looked around him. he realized he must be in

the hospital wing. he was lyih white lis,

ao him iled high with what looked like half

the dy shop.

”tokens from your friends and admirers,” said dumbledore,

beaming. ”ened down in the duween you and

professor quirrell is a plete secret, so, naturally, the whole

sows. i believe your friends misters fred and gee weasley

were resporying to send you a toilet seat. no doubt

they thought it would amuse you. madam pomfrey, however, felt it

might nienifiscated it.”

”how long have i been in here?”

”three days. mr. ronald weasley and miss granger will be most

relieved you have e round, they have beeremely worried.”

”but sit, the stone

i see you are ed. very well, the

stone. professor quirrell did n