on as tight as he could. quirrell sd tried to throw harry
off -- the pain in harrys head was building -- he t see -- he
ly hear quirrells terrible shrieks as yells of,
”kill him! kill him!” and other voices, maybe in harrys own head,
g, ”harry! harry!”
he felt quirrells arm wren his grasp, knew all was
lost, ao blaess, don...
something gold was glinting just above him. the snitch! he
tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.
he bli wasnt the snitch at all. it air of
glasses. he.
he blinked again. the smiling face of albus dumbledore swam
into view above him.
”good afternoon, harry,” said dumbledore. harry stared at
him. then he remembered: ”sir! the sto was quirrell! hes
got the stone! sir, quick --”
”calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behiimes,”
said dumbledore. ”quirrell does one.”
”then who does? sir, i --”
”harry, please relax, or madam pomfrey will have me thrown out.
harry swallowed and looked around him. he realized he must be in
the hospital wing. he was lyih white lis,
ao him iled high with what looked like half
the dy shop.
”tokens from your friends and admirers,” said dumbledore,
beaming. ”ened down in the duween you and
professor quirrell is a plete secret, so, naturally, the whole
sows. i believe your friends misters fred and gee weasley
were resporying to send you a toilet seat. no doubt
they thought it would amuse you. madam pomfrey, however, felt it
might nienifiscated it.”
”how long have i been in here?”
”three days. mr. ronald weasley and miss granger will be most
relieved you have e round, they have beeremely worried.”
”but sit, the stone
i see you are ed. very well, the
stone. professor quirrell did n