Harry Potter transformed into Gothic Literature

Harry stepped into the last chamber and a shiver ran down his spine, he stood still for a moment surveying the chamber, the dark damp walls trickled with water, the ceiling towered above him, and the torches flickered from the other end, Harry couldn’t make out to much so he took a few paces forwards the light. The light illuminated a figure and as Harry got closer the shadowy figure became clearer. The noticeable turban assured Harry it was Quirell; he was wearing long robes, which slightly floated, above the stone floor.

He posture was strong and bold facing towards Harry his face was shadowed as the flames unsteadily flashed behind him they danced upon the edges of his robes. Harry stopped and stood still silently he was bewildered and astounded at this, he couldn’t believe it was Quirell; this meant that it was Quirell that had been trying to kill him, not Snape. Instead of Quirells usual nervous appearance he looked self-assured and confident Quirell’s cold laugh echoed the chamber, it was a sharp laugh Quirell wasn’t nervous or trembling, his twitch had gone from his eye.

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Quirell’s stare pierced into Harry’s eyes, Harry stayed where he was Harry was still perplexed and was still comprehending it all. Quirell, with composure then proceeded to inform Harry of his outlines to kill him. Quirell’s arm outstretched outwards and up towards the chamber ceiling his long bony fingers spread out wide, they quickly clicked together, Ropes sprang up and spiralled towards Harry, hurtling they whipped and whirled, finally securely wrapping and writhing around Harry’s body franticly but firmly keeping him from moving.

For the first time Harry noticed an object behind Quirrel, It was the Mirror of Erised, a magnificent tall mirror, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two claw feet. With the inscription, Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Quirell traversed around the mirror he turned around sharply and spat out his words “The mirror is the key to finding the stone,” he turned aback to the mirror and began to tap frequently around the edges of the mirror he was confounded. Quirell disappeared around the back of the mirror attentively fumbling and fiddling around; when he re appeared on the other side he gazed hungrily into the mirror.

Harry was contemplating distracting Quirell from the mirror ” I heard you the other day, sobbing”. A flash of fear swept across Quirell’s face and he shivered suddenly, Quirell turned back to the mirror engaged in it, he cursed under his breath. Harry tried to get closer to the mirror so he could get the stone before Quirell did; he leaned over slightly and fell over on the cold hard slabs of stone. Quirell didn’t notice he was busy talking to himself. To Harry’s horror a voice within Quirell said “use the boy… use the boy”.

Quirell riveted on the sport turned to look at Harry and clapped his slim hands together the ropes that were binding Harry fell off Harry rose to his feet. Quirell dragged Harry towards the mirror and asked him what he saw when he looked in the mirror, Harry approached the mirror and looked into it he was pale with fear he was scared, as he was looking into he mirror he felt something heavy drop into his pocket, it was the stone. Quirell was impatient, Harry lied he said that he saw himself shaking hands with Dumbeldore.

Harry edged away as once again Quirell was transfixed with the mirror, but again the voice form within Quirell spoke “He lies… He lies” Quirell sternly shouted Harry to go back to him. Harry didn’t move. The voice spoke again directing Quirell to Harry pocket where the stone was, Harry was rooted to the spot, he couldn’t move a muscle, Quirell began to lift his arms up Harry didn’t know what to expect, but his arms did not advance towards Harry instead to his turban, he began to unravel and unwrap the turban, it fell away and landed softly on the floor Quirell’s head looked strangely small without it.

Quirell pivoted on the spot slowly, there on the back of his head was the most terrible face Harry had ever seen, it was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. It whispered “Harry Potter… ” Harry tried to move away but his legs were tiff he couldn’t move he wanted to scream at the monstrous site but found himself rooted to the spot, the face was that of Lord Voldemort the most feared magician. His face began to speak ” Give me the stone” “Never” Harry shouted.

Harry sprang toward the door from which he entered. Harry felt Quirell’s hand close on his wrist. Abruptly, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry ‘s Forehead and his scar burned. Voldemort screamed and Quirell let go and hunched over in pain, where Quirell’s hand had touched Harry they were now blistering, Quirell quickly lunged towards Harry again knocking him to the floor, Quirt ells hands grasped Harry’s neck, Harry was in pain his scar burned, yet he could see that also Quirell was in pain.

Quirell’s hands were bright red ands blistered all over, He let go Harry was astonished, Quirell realised it was no use touching him so he raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry was impulsive he jumped up and grabbed Quirell’s face, Quirell rolled off screaming in agony, then Harry knew for definite Quirell couldn’t touch his bare skin, he tried to keep hold of Quirell to keep him in pain to stop him doing a deadly curse, Quirell tried to shake Harry off but Harry clung on tightly, the pain in his head grew and grew he could only hear Quirell’s terrible shrieks and yells.

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