It was a squirrel.
A small brown one.
Quirrell crouched down, whispering to it. Then—right before Sean's eyes—the squirrel transformed into a golden-haired boy, about seven or eight years old.
"…Adam."
Sean hid behind a pillar, peeking out.
"What are they saying… damn it."
—
In the early days, Peeves had helped him track Quirrell.
But after a week—
He got bored.
Now, Sean was on his own.
He didn't dare get too close.
Adam, now in human form, took all the candy from Quirrell. Their conversation lasted less than thirty seconds—
Then Adam vanished.
Gone.
—
Quirrell, however—
Looked satisfied.
He turned and left quickly.
Sean hesitated.
"Do I follow Quirrell… or Adam?"
Through his Magic vision , Adam still emitted a faint white glow—
Even while invisible.
But—
Too late.
Sean lost him.
—
He chased Quirrell instead.
On the Marauder's Map—
Quirrell's name moved back toward the third floor.
"…Back to his room?"
No further action.
No clues.
Sean returned to the dorm—
Staring at the map all night.
Wide awake.
—
Meanwhile—
In Quirrell's room:
"My Lord… we've found the scepter."
"But… as Haerpo said, we can't retrieve it alone. We need help."
"Last time, it was that boy… Sean Grylls. Should we use him again?"
Voldemort's voice rasped from the back of his head.
"No."
"…Use Harry Potter."
"Let the brave boy retrieve it for us."
—
The next morning—
Sean missed breakfast.
He slept until eleven—
Only waking because Jerry was crushing his chest.
—
In the Great Hall—
Chris frowned.
"You skipped breakfast? You never sleep in."
"…Insomnia," Sean said casually.
"It's getting worse."
"You need a Sleeping Draught."
"…Do I?"
"I'll watch you drink it tonight."
"…Fine."
—
After lunch—
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped him.
"Sean—you know something, don't you?" Harry said.
"That room on the third floor… it's protecting Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, right?"
Sean raised an eyebrow.
"…How did you figure that out?"
"Hagrid slipped," Harry said. "We looked it up."
"We think Snape's trying to steal it."
Sean shook his head.
"You're wrong."
"Professor Snape is protecting it."
The trio exchanged uncertain looks.
They didn't believe him.
—
That afternoon—
In Potions class—
Snape was furious.
"Has someone been stealing from my stores?"
Everyone denied it.
Cassius whispered, "He says this every time."
Sean chuckled awkwardly.
"…Yeah."
(He'd done it himself in first year.)
—
The next day—
Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Quirrell suddenly called on Harry—
A difficult question.
Harry failed.
"…Harry," Quirrell said hesitantly,
"You'll need detention tonight. Copy this fifty times."
—
After dinner—
Harry sat in the classroom, writing.
One hour later—
"I'm done, Professor."
Quirrell took the notebook.
Then pushed a glass of water toward him.
"Thirsty? Have some."
Harry drank.
—
Moments later—
Dizziness.
Blurred vision.
Quirrell leaned in.
"Harry Potter… in the room near the library… there is a mirror—the Mirror of Erised…"
"Inside it… is a golden scepter."
"It can revive the Dark Lord."
"Snape intends to steal it."
"You must help me stop him."
—
Harry nodded.
Blank.
Controlled.
—
Quirrell clapped lightly.
Then—instantly switched tone.
"Harry! Snape is stealing the scepter!"
Harry stood up.
"We have to stop him!"
"Exactly!"
—
They ran.
From the third floor—
To the fifth-floor library room.
—
Quirrell burst the door open.
Inside—
A black-robed figure.
"Snape!" Quirrell shouted.
The figure turned—
Then ran past them.
Out the door.
—
"Harry!" Quirrell said urgently.
"Get the scepter! Stand before the mirror—you'll obtain it!"
"I'll chase him!"
—
Harry stepped forward.
The Mirror reflected his deepest desire—
Protecting the scepter.
In the reflection—
He held it.
—
And then—
It appeared.
In his hands.
—
"Well done, Harry."
Quirrell stood behind him.
Holding—
A mop.
(The "Snape" earlier had been transfigured from it.)
—
"I got it, Professor," Harry said.
"Give it to me."
"And forget everything."
"Obliviate."
—
A flash.
—
"…Professor?"
Harry blinked.
"Why are we here?"
"You don't remember?" Quirrell said calmly.
"I brought you to see the Mirror of Erised."
"It shows your deepest desire."
"…Really?"
Harry turned.
In the mirror—
He saw his parents.
Alive.
Smiling.
"Professor… I can see them."
—
But Quirrell—
Was already gone.
With the scepter.
—
He didn't flee the castle.
Not yet.
The scepter—
Was only part of the deal with Haerpo.
What he truly wanted—
Was the Philosopher's Stone.
—
Snape was watching him closely.
Breaking through all seven trials would take time.
He needed the right moment—
When Dumbledore was absent.
—
The trials:
Fluffy – already solved
Devil's Snare
Wizard's Chess
Flying Keys
Troll (his own)
Potions logic
Dumbledore's final test
—
For Quirrell—
A former Ravenclaw prodigy—
The first six were trivial.
They were never meant for him.
—
Late that night—
Harry returned to the dorm.
Ron asked,
"Detention took that long?"
"…No. I saw something."
Harry told him about the mirror.
—
Neither Dumbledore—
Nor Sean—
Knew what had happened.
—
This sudden shift—
Everything changing—
All because of one variable:
Adam.
—
That night—
Before curfew—
Sean had been forced by Chris—
To drink a Sleeping Draught.
—
He collapsed—
Within a minute.
Completely unconscious.
—
For the first time—
He missed everything.
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