Effervescence | h.p.

i | xxxxvii. connecting dots

It was Quirrell. A teacher, but not the one they had been suspecting the whole time — not Snape.

"You?" gasped Lyra.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Lyra."

"But I thought — Snape — "

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't at all 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?"

Lyra was stunned. Sure, she didn't believe it was Snape, did she? Did she abandon her personal belief and knowledge of the real Severus that only she and few others knew, just to be fooled by Quirrell like so many others?

"It was you, at the first Quidditch match, wasn't it?" she asked, quickly catching on to his wrongdoings. "We thought Snape was trying to kill me, but it wasn't him, was it?"

"No, I had been trying to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. 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, too, if Snape hadn't been muttering his little countercurses, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save me?"

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. Despite the circumstances, Lyra couldn't help but feel hopeful for when she got out of the chamber, she could possibly mend her shaky relationship with Severus. Well, if she got out, that is . . .

"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."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and before Lyra could react to the quickly-moving ropes, they were wrapping themselves tightly around her.

"You're too nosy to live, Lyra. You and Potter are too nosy for your own good, aren't you? With him scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone. And you coming to the forest all on your own. Lucky Snape was there, or you'd have been dead then and there."

"You let the troll in?"

"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 had 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, wait quietly, Lyra. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Lyra realized there was an object in the center of the room, standing behind Quirrell. Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi it read at the top.

What the hell is this? Lyra thought to herself.

She had to think fast to stop Quirrell. Mirrors — mirrors reflect — a reflection shows up backward — backward? Backwards words . . . read the words backward! she thought rather excitedly, proud of herself for figuring it out . . . hopefully.