Samee-ur/hp_example_data_new · Datasets at Hugging Face

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THE MAN WITH TWO FACES
It was Quirrell.
"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."
"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?"
Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.
"But Snape tried to kill me!"
"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 countercurse, trying to save you."
"Snape was trying to save me?"
"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 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 wrapped
themselves tightly around Harry.
"You're too nosy to live, Potter. 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."
"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 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, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.
It was only then that Harry realized 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...."
All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him
from concentrating on the mirror.
"I saw you and Snape in the forest --" he blurted out.
"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the
back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got.
He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could,
when I had Lord Voldemort on my side...."
Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into
it.
"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 seemed 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."
"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Snape was
threatening you...."
For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.
"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions
-- he is a great wizard and I am weak --"
"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.
"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I
traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of
ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong
I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too
weak to seek it.... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I
have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."
Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I
failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He
punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me...."
Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon
Alley -how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that
very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.
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. So if I look in the
mirror, I should see myseff finding it -- which means I'll see where
it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up
to?
He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without
Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he
tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to
himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"
And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come
from Quirrell himself
"Use the boy... Use the boy..."
Quirrell rounded on Harry.
"Yes -- Potter -- come here."
He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry
got slowly to his feet.
"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you

THE MAN WITH TWO FACES

It was Quirrell.

"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."

"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?"

Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"But Snape tried to kill me!"

"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 countercurse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save me?"

"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 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 wrapped

themselves tightly around Harry.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. 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."

"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 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, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.

It was only then that Harry realized 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...."

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him

from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest --" he blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the

back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got.

He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could,

when I had Lord Voldemort on my side...."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into

it.

"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 seemed 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."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Snape was

threatening you...."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions

-- he is a great wizard and I am weak --"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I

traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of

ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong

I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too

weak to seek it.... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I

have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me."

Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I

failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He

punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me...."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon

Alley -how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that

very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

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. So if I look in the

mirror, I should see myseff finding it -- which means I'll see where

it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up

to?

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without

Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he

tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to

himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come

from Quirrell himself

"Use the boy... Use the boy..."

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes -- Potter -- come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry

got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you