A/N: I know it's similar to the book, but it's changing further on towards the middle. Enjoy :)
"You!" gasped Harry.
Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching.
"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? Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"
This couldn't be true, it couldn't.
"But Snape tried to kill me, in the Quidditch match!"
"No, no, no. I tried 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 if Snape hadn't been muttering a counter-curse, trying to save you."
"Snape was trying to save me?"
"Of course," said Quirrel 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 have 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."
Harry didn't hear the rest of Quirrell's lecture, he was too far away in his thoughts thinking about Snape. Why would he try and save me? He hates me? Thousands of questions were swimming around his head?
He didn't realise what was happening, until he felt ropes wrapping themselves tighly around him.
"You're too nosy to live, Potter."
"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."
It was only then that Harry realised what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the mirror of Erised.
"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this ... but he's in London ... I'll be far away by the time he gets back ..."
"I see the Stone ... I'm presenting it to my master ... but where is it?
Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.
"But Snape always seems to hate me so much."
"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."
Quirrell cursed under his breath.
"I don't understand ... is the Stone inside the Mirror? Should I break it?"
Harry's mind was racing.
What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does.
At that moment, several things happen at the same time, while Harry tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass, a loud core chilling voice rang though the room.
"Use the boy ... use the boy."
Quirrell rounded on Harry.
"Potter, come here!"
He clapped his hands once, and the roped binding Harry fell off.
"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."
He closed his eyes, stepped forward in front of the mirror and opened them again.
He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled. It put its hand into his pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the stone back into its pocket - as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his pocket. Somehow - he got the Stone.
"Well?" said Quirrell, "What do you see?"
"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore" he invented "i've won the house cup."
"Get out of the way," ordered Quirrell.
He hadn't moved five paces before a high voice spoke, "He lies, he lies."
The next moments were a blur, his scar had bursted opened, and suddenly Quirrell hands were clasped to his neck trying to strangle him. Struggling with al his might, and to his suprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened - he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his blistering hands.
"SEIZE HIM, SEIZE HIM!" Shrieked the voice.
Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry off his feet, and clasped his neck again, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face.
Quirrell rolled off him, howling in pain, his face blistering too, and then Harry knew; Quirrell couldn't bare to touch his own skin without suffering terrible pain.
Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell's arm and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off.
He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down .. down ... down ...