Chapter 3
"Profesor Dumbledore?" I called, mentally preparing for whatever nonsense the old man decides to put me through.
"What do you see?" Ah. So he wants to know if I'm still a pawn.
"Just me, sir. Am I supposed to see something else?" I replied with some amusement. I want to make it harder for him. And, well, it's fun.
The headmaster tilted his head, his eyes boring into the back of my head. I can feel it. He's probably trying to find out if I'm joking or if I'm a danger to his plan.
"And what else do you see?" he finally said, voice controlled. Curious.
I hummed, taking my time, before replying, "I'm just older, sir. Happy."
I heard the headmaster getting closer, stopping by my side. He didn't say anything for a long time and left still in silence. I didn't pass his test.
"You didn't have to kidnap me, you know?" I complained, facing the mirror "and why do you even need me? I'm nothing extraordinary."
I wanted to yell, through a temper tantrum, pout. Always me, always used.
"What do you see?" he ignored me, saying those exact same words. I had the sudden urge to tell him how similar he is to Dumbledore. Instead, I tilted my head and looked at my reflection, focusing on every little movement. His reflection stared back at him with the same intensity, with a little smirk playing in his lips. He knows something.
"Myself," I said, confused at what is my reflection doing "He's just smiling at me for some weird reason."
Quirrellmort stayed silent at my words. I was honest. There was no stone, no hiding it in his pocket. How odd.
"Step aside," he ordered, frustrated by his failing plan. I did as told, my eyes not moving from my reflection, which wink at me. Huh. Quirrell is throwing spell after spell, trying to figure the mirror out. Should I help him, I wonder? It would be the first time I did that. I will die and come back again, so what do I have to lose? Nothing, nothing at all.
"The mirror won't give you what you want to use," I said calmly, waiting. Quirrell stopped moving. "Only if you don't want to use it will it appear," I explained "That was what Dumbledore said."
"Dumbledore," the older man hissed, his posture rigid. Oh oh, he's angry. He turned around, staring back at me in such a poisonous look that I thought I was the reason for it, "And what else did Dumbledore tell you?"
"Not much. A lot of bullshit," I smirked "He doesn't trust me, you see. Nor do I trust him."
"Oh?" now he seems amused, walking closer to me "And what did you, Harry Potter, his golden boy, did to deserve the headmaster's mistrust?"
"Just being me," I replied, my smile growing, exhilarated. This was getting so much more interesting. Quirrell snorted. He snorted. Wow.
"In that case, don't let the old man change who you are as I'm very interested on seeing what will you grow up to be," I was surprised by his response.
"Wait... Does that mean you'll let me live?"
But it was late, way too late, as he got the stone from the mirror while I was distracted and dissapered with a soft pop.
Oh no.