Datasets:
BlinAI
/
Testo

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
1
text
stringlengths
0
4.23k
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.
Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.
«Brilliant,» said Hermione. «This isn't magic—it's logic—a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever.»
«But so will we, won't we?» «Of course not,» said Hermione. «Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple.»
«But how do we know which to drink?»
«Give me a minute.»
Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.
«Got it,» she said. «The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire—toward the Stone.»
Harry looked at the tiny bottle.
«There's only enough there for one of us,» he said. «That's hardly one swallow.»
They looked at each other.
«Which one will get you back through the purple flames?»
Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.
«You drink that,» said Harry. «No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flyingkey room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy—go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really.»
«But Harry—what if You-Know-Who's with him?»
«Well—I was lucky once, wasn't I?» said Harry, pointing at his scar. «I might get lucky again.»
Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.
«Hermione!»
«Harry—you're a great wizard, you know.»
«I'm not as good as you,» said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.
«Me!» said Hermione. «Books! And cleverness! There are more important things—friendship and bravery and—oh Harry—be careful!»
«You drink first,» said Harry. «You are sure which is which, aren't you?»
«Positive,» said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.
«It's not poison?» said Harry anxiously.
«No—but it's like ice.»
«Quick, go, before it wears off.»
«Good luck—take care.»
«GO!»
Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.
Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.
«Here I come,» he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.
It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them—for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire—then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.
There was already someone there—but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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, ...
«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 di...
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, t...
«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 ...
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 see.»
Harry walked toward him.
I must lie, he thought desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all.
Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped 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 at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket—and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow—incredibly—he'd got...
«Well?» said Quirrell impatiently. «What do you see?»
Harry screwed up his courage.
«I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,» he invented. «I—I've won the house cup for Gryffindor.»
Quirrell cursed again.
«Get out of the way,» he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?
But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.
«He lies... He lies...»
«Potter, come back here!» Quirrell shouted. «Tell me the truth! What did you just see?»
The high voice spoke again.