57

MILLIES POV

We walked into a large chamber, the last one.

There was already someone there - but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirrell.

If I wasn't so injured, I would have choked.

"You!" gasped Harry.

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

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. How sweet, you've brought your little girlfriend too."

"But I thought - Snape-"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed and it wasn't 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."

I couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't. I found my voice.

"But Snape t-tried to k-kill Harry!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill Harry. 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 Potter off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a counter-curse, trying to save him."

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry whispered.

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "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 of bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor winning, he did make himself unpopular ... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

"No your not," I growled, pointing my wand at Quirrell.

His evil eyes flickered to me angrily.

"And what're you going to do, Donovan?" He laughed coldly. "You can hardly walk."

"Yeah, well, what I'm about to do doesn't require walking. Everte statum!"

Quirrell was immediately thrown backwards from the force of the spell, but it was too much for my body to take. I fell to the floor, the world spinning.

"Millie!" I heard Harry cry, but Quirrell was too quick. He snapped his fingers and I managed to keep my eyes open long enough to see ropes spring out of thin air and wrap themselves tightly around Harry. Quirrell walked slowly over to me, with Harry still screaming and shouting my name. My eyes clamped shut, every single muscle in my body screaming with pain, yet not one moan escaped my mouth.

"Just like your mother," I heard Quirrell mutter darkly to himself, before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up staring at a white ceiling. How strange. Sitting up, I realised I must be in the hospital wing. I was laying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to me was a table piled high with what looked like half the sweet shop. I hungrily reached out and took a box of Berty-Botts-Every-flavour-Beans. I popped a sweet in my mouth and noticed a small mirror beside me. I peered into it, nearly gasping at the sight; my neck had a massive bandage around it, and my was face covered in scabs. I frantically glanced to my right and spotted a boy unconscious in the bed next to mine. My head tilted in confusion...he looked like Harry...

"The stone!" I spluttered, choking on a sweet.

"Millie?"

I whipped my back round, wincing from the deep ache in my body. Harry was propped up on his elbows, sliding his glasses onto his face. He looked just as confused as I was. "What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said, happy to find my voice steady again. "We must have been brought here. "Tell me what happened Harry, after I passed out. Tell me everything."

And so he did. He told me how Quirrell was the one that let the troll in - that after I had blacked out, Quirrell had thrown me to the side - that the mirror of Erised was there too - how he made Harry look into the mirror, where he saw the philosophers stone in his pocket in the reflection - how the stone had appeared in his pocket in real life - how Quirrell shared a half life with Voldemort - how Harry spoke to him - how Quirrell had been the one drinking the unicorn blood in the forest - how his scar had seared with pain - how Quirrell couldn't touch him without him blistering him - how Voldemort and Quirrell tried to kill him - how he survived, and finally fainted.

I just stared at him in a mixture of pure shock and amazement.

Harry sighed. "I thought - I thought you were dead, Mills."

"No need to sound so disappointed," I teased, sinking into my pillows.

"No!" Harry said seriously. "It was horrible, you looked like you were in so much pain..."

"Good afternoon."

My head turned to see Dumbledore walking over to the middle of our beds.

Immediately, Harry and I began talking at the same time:

"The stone!"

"It was Quirrell!"

"He's got the stone!"

"Sir, quick!"

"Calm yourselves, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore softly. "Quirrell does not have the stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I-"

"Millie, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

I looked at him, debating whether to argue, but I just nodded and placed another sweet in my mouth.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened in the dungeons between you two and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a lavatory seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

I laughed loudly.

"How long have we been in here?" Harry asked.

"Three days. Mr Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But Sir, the stone-"

"I see neither of you are to be distracted. Very well, the stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in mid-air. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you-"

"It was you."

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the stone much longer-"

"Not the stone, boy, you - and Millie. You were in a terrible state, young lady. The effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. How you even got through the chessboard staying conscious is a wonder in itself, Millie."

"Herbology isn't really my thing, Professor, you know, plants and stuff," I said, earning myself a loud chuckle from Dumbledore. I sent him a weak smile back, before staring at my hands, which were too, covered in plasters.

"As for the stone, it has been destroyed," he continued casually.

"Destroyed?" I said blankly, looking back up. "But your friend - Nicolas Flamel-"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I had a little chat and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?" Harry asked.

"They have enough elixer stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore just smiled at the look of amazement on our faces.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."

I lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

"Sir?" Harry said. "I've been thinking ... even if the stones gone, Vol - I mean, You-Know-Who-"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, Sir. Well, Voldemort is going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share ... Not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, Millie, while you may only have delayed his return to power, It will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight to what seems a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

I nodded, but stopped quickly because it made my head hurt.

"Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me," Harry said slowly. "I want to know the truth about..."

"The truth," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg your forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well ... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

I straightened up interestedly, but Dumbledore just sighed deeply.

"Alas, the First thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day ... put it from your mind for now, Harry, when you are older ... I know you will hate to hear this ... but when you are ready, you will know."

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there's one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He doesn't realise that love as powerful as your mothers for you leaves its own mark. Not the scar, no visible sign ... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection for ever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave me time to send Harry a quick look, and found he was already looking at me. He sent me a small smile, before turning back to the Headmaster.

"And the invisibility cloak - do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah - your father happened to leave it in my possession and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchen to steal food, when he was here."

"Good thinking," I mumbled, nodding.

"And there's something else..." Harry began.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. Dumbledore smiled amusingly, but Harry continued,

"How did I get the stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas..."

I zoned out, my mind wandering back down the trapdoor. And then I thought of a question of my own.

"...Miss Donovan, are you okay?"

I snapped out of my daze and looked up. Both Dumbledore and Harry were staring at me. I guessed they had finished speaking.

"Professor," I said, meeting his eyes. "Before I passed out, Quirrell said something to me - something that has really confused me."

"And what was that?"

I paused.

"He said just like your mother. But how would he know my mother? She's a Muggle?"

As I had said these words, Dumbledore had froze, watching me. For the first time ever, Albus Dumbledore was speechless. However, it lasted just enough for me to notice it, and he quickly returned to his calm state.

"That is correct, your mother is a Muggle, though she is known throughout our world because of your father. Nothing to worry about, I think. Now..." His eyes shone, lowering his voice as he spoke. "I would like to ask you a question. Can you perform spells without having learnt them previously?"

My heartbeat increased.

"Yes, sir."

He nodded. "That's all I need to know - for now."

"When will be the right time, then?" I asked him. I was confused. Was it something to do with Voldemort? I knew Dumbledore knew, from the way he was studying me, from how shocked he had been ... it was like he had finally found the key - to everything.

"You will know," Dumbledore replied shortly, and before I could say anything else, he clapped his hands together happily. "Now, enough questions! I suggest, Harry, you make a start on these sweets. I see you have already started on the Bertie-Botts-every-flavour beans, Millie! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them - but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Earwax!"