Harry Potter: Chapter 17 - The Man With Two Faces (FINAL CHAPTER)
Chapter 17
The Man With Two Faces
Harry is not alone in the room. There is someone there already - but it is not Snape. It is not Voldemort, either. It is Quirrell. “You!” cries Harry. Quirrell smiles. “Yes, Potter, it is me,” he answers. “I was wondering if you would get this far.” Quirrell does not stutter once. “But I thought… Snape!” Quirrell laughs a cold, sharp laugh. “Severus? Yes, Severus has been very useful to us. The perfect distraction. Next to him, who would ever suspect p-p-poor, stuttering P-p-professor Quirrell?”
Harry does not understand. “But Snape tried to kill me at the Quidditch game!” he cries. “No, no, no, you silly boy. I tried to kill you at the game, but your little friend, Miss Granger, accidentally knocked me over when she was running to set Snape on fire. She made me lose eye contact with you. If it weren’t for her, I would have knocked you off your broom. I would have been faster, but Snape was using a countercurse, trying to save you.”
“Snape was trying to save me?” Harry says. He still cannot believe it. “Of course he was,” answers Quirrell. “Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? It didn’t matter anyway. I couldn’t have done anything with Dumbledore there. What a waste of time. After all, I’m going to kill you tonight.”
Suddenly, Quirrell snaps his fingers. Ropes appear out of thin air and wrap themselves around Harry’s hands and feet. Harry cannot move. The ropes are very tight. “You’re too much trouble to allow you to live, Potter.” Quirrell continues. “You ruined my plans on Halloween. I wasn’t sure if you knew about me and the Stone…”
“You let the troll in, didn’t you?” asks Harry, incredulous. “Of course I did. I sent it to kill you. But you and your little friends were stronger than I expected. And Snape already suspected me. That’s why he went to the third floor before me. But the three-headed dog couldn’t even bite his leg off correctly. You just wait there, Potter, while I finish what I started here.” Quirrell turns away from Harry and moves towards the far wall.
It is then that Harry realizes what is behind Quirrell. It is the Mirror of Erised! “This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell says. “Of course Dumbledore would think of something like this to protect the Stone. But I tricked him, and sent him away. He won’t be bothering us tonight…”
“But I saw you and Snape in the Forbidden Forest!” Harry says. He is trying to distract Quirrell, so he loses his concentration. “Yes, He tried to frighten me. Ha!” he laughs another cold laugh, “What a fool he was, to think he could stop me, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…” Quirrell continues to look into the Mirror. “I see the Stone. I’m presenting it to my master. But where is it?” he says in frustration.
Harry tries to loosen the ropes around his wrists, but they are too tight. Suddenly, Quirrell makes a strange sound. “Sometimes,” he says, holding his hand to his head, “it is difficult to follow my master’s instruction. He is a powerful wizard, and I am weak…” Quirrell’s face is suddenly full of pain. “Lord Voldemort has shown me the way. I was wrong. There is no good or evil, only power, and those who are too weak to find it.”
“I have served him faithfully. But I cannot always do what he asks. He does not forgive mistakes.” Quirrell’s face is full of pain. “When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was very displeased. He punished me. He decided he could not let me out of his sight.” Of course! Harry thinks. He remembers seeing Quirrell on Diagon Alley, when he visited Gringotts with Hagrid.
Quirrell cries out in pain. “I don’t understand… is the Stone inside the Mirror? Should I break it?” Quirrell is talking out loud, but it seems he is having a conversation with someone - not talking to himself. Then Harry has an idea. What I want more than anything in the world right now, he thinks, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it - I’ll be able to see where it is hidden!
Harry tries to move closer to the Mirror, without Quirrell noticing him. But the ropes are too tight. He cannot move. “What does the Mirror do?” he hears Quirrell say. “How does it work? Master, Help me!” And to Harry’s horror, a voice answers him. The voice comes from inside Quirrell himself. “Use the boy… Use the boy…”
Quirrell turns around quickly and looks at Harry. “Yes, Master!” cries Quirrell. “Potter, come here.” He claps his hands once and the ropes fall off of Harry’s hands and feet. Harry gets to his feet. “Come here and look in the Mirror and tell me what you see,” Quirrell commands Harry. I must lie, Harry thinks desperately. I must look and lie about what I see. It’s the only way.
Harry approaches the Mirror. He can smell the strange smell from Quirrell’s turban. Harry closes his eyes, steps in front of the Mirror, then opens them again. At first he sees his reflection. His face is pale and scared. Then a moment later, the reflection smiles at him. His reflection puts its hand into its pocket and pulls out a stone - a red stone, the color of blood. The reflection winks, then puts the stone back in its pocket.
The real Harry then feels something heavy in his own pocket. Somehow, incredibly, he now has the Stone! “Well?” asks Quirrell impatiently, “What do you see?” Harry looks for the courage he needs. “I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” he lies. “I’ve won the house cup for Gryffindor.” Quirrell curses under his breath, and pushes Harry out of the way. Harry moves away from the Mirror - he can feel the weight of the Stone in his pocket.
“He lies…He lies…” says the voice. “Let me speak to him… face-to-face…” Quirrell turns to Harry again, “But, Master, you’re not strong enough!” Quirrell says. “I have the strength… for this…” Harry is petrified! He cannot move a muscle. He watches as Quirrell turns again towards the Mirror, then he begins to unwrap his turban. Harry wants to scream, but he cannot make a sound.
The turban falls away, and where the back of Quirrell’s head is supposed to be, there is a face, the most terrible face Harry has ever seen. The face is as white as chalk. Its eyes are wide and red. Where its nose should be, there are only holes, like a snake’s nose. “Harry Potter…” it whispers. “Do you see what I have become?” Harry tries to step backwards and away, but his legs won’t move.
“I am a mere shadow and vapor of what I once was… I must share another’s body… but there have always been others who will let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has given me enough strength… you saw Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create my own body… Now, give me the Stone you have in your pocket.”
So he knows. Suddenly, Harry is able to move his legs. He falls backwards. “Do not be a fool!” yells the face. “Do not waste your life. Join me… or you will suffer the same end as your parents… They died begging me for mercy…” “LIAR!” Harry shouts in anger and fear. “Ha, ha, ha…” the thing laughs. “I killed your father first… but your mother did not need to die… she was trying to protect you… Now, give me the Stone!”
“NEVER!”
Harry runs for the door, but Quirrell’s hand closes on Harry’s wrist. Immediately, Harry feels a terrible pain across the scar on his forehead. His head feels like it will split in two. Suddenly, Quirrell yells in pain and releases Harry’s arm. Quirrell falls to the floor in pain. He is looking at his fingers. They begin to blister.
“Get him! GET HIM!” yells Voldemort. Quirrell jumps up at Harry and pushes him to the ground. He lands on top of Harry and puts both hands around his neck, and begins to squeeze! Harry’s scar is almost blinding him with pain. But Quirrell begins to howl in agony! “Master! I cannot hold him! My hands! My hands!”
Quirrell is on top of Harry, holding him down with his weight. But he releases his hands from around his neck. He looks at his hands - they are red and smoking, as if they were burned in a fire. “Then kill him, you fool, and be done with it!” screeches Voldemort. Quirrell raises his hands to cast a mortal curse, but Harry reacts by instinct - he reaches up and grabs Quirrell’s face in his own hands.
Quirrell screams in agony, “AAARRRGH!” He rolls off of Harry. His face begins to blister, too. Harry understands - Quirrell cannot touch his skin without feeling terrible pain. He must keep holding Quirrell, to cause him pain and prevent him from casting a curse. Harry runs over to Quirrell and grabs his arm. He hangs on as tightly as he can. The pain in his own head is terrible.
Harry’s vision begins to blur - the pain in his head is agonizing. But he does not let go. He can hear Quirrell’s terrible shrieks, and Voldemort’s yells of, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!” Harry hears other voices. He can see nothing. Maybe they are voices in his own head. Then he feels Quirrell’s arm pulled from his own hands. I have lost, Harry thinks. Then he falls into complete blackness.
In his delirium, Harry sees something gold flashing above him. It is the Snitch! He tries to catch it, but he cannot move his arms. He blinks, and opens his eyes completely. It is not the Snitch at all. It is a pair of glasses. He blinks again, and his vision becomes clear. He sees the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore looking at him. “Good afternoon, Harry,” says Dumbledore.
Harry stares at Dumbledore, then remembers, “The Stone! It was Quirrell! He’s got the Stone! Sir, please, hurry you must…” “Calm down, dear boy. It’s ok. Quirrell does not have the Stone.” “Then, who does, sir? What happened?” Harry is desperate. “Relax, Harry, or Madam Pomfrey will kick me out.” Harry realizes at that moment that he is in the hospital wing, in a hospital bed.
Dumbledore patiently answers all of Harry’s questions. He has been in the hospital for three days. Quirrell does not have the Stone because Dumbledore arrived just in time to prevent him from getting it, and the battle almost killed Harry. The Stone has been destroyed - no one will ever be able to drink the Elixir of Life. And as for Voldemort, Dumbledore says, well, Voldemort has escaped.
He is still out there somewhere, maybe looking for another body to share. He was never truly alive, so he cannot be killed. He may return, says Dumbledore, but Harry has delayed that possibility for now. “But sir,” says Harry, “there are things that I want to know the truth about. Will you tell me?”
“If you ask me,” Dumbledore responds, “I cannot lie to you, Harry. But the truth can be a terrible thing.” Harry considers this for a moment, then continues, “Well, Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?” Dumbledore sighs very deeply, “My poor Harry, this question I cannot answer, not today. But when you are ready, you will know.”
Harry understands that he cannot win an argument with Dumbledore. So he asks another question, “Do you know who sent me the invisibility cloak?” “Ah, that question I can answer! Your father left the cloak with me, and I thought you might like it.” Dumbledore smiles. “The cloak is a useful thing… your father used it to sneak into the kitchen and steal food when he was here.”
“I have one more question,” says Harry. “Of course you do,” says Dumbledore, smiling even more, “what is it?” “How did I get the Stone?” asks Harry. “Well, Harry, that was one of my most brilliant ideas. Only someone who was true of heart could find the Stone. The Mirror knew that most people only wanted the Stone for its magical properties. But it saw the truth in you - you wanted the Stone only to prevent Voldemort from getting it.”
“Now, enough questions. You must rest. Your friends have been dying to see you, but Madam Pomfrey would not let them in. Rest now, Mr. Potter. You will need your energy to retell the story of your adventure.” Harry smiles and puts his head back on his pillow. He closes his eyes and is asleep almost instantly.
Madam Pomfrey finally lets Harry leave the next evening, after one more check-up. He arrives in the Great Hall just in time for the end-of-the-year celebration dinner. When Harry walks in, all the children stop talking and look at Harry. Then everyone starts talking all at the same time. Harry finds a seat next to Hermione and Ron at the Gryffindor table. The Great Hall is decorated with Slytherin colors and banners. It is their seventh victory in a row.
Dumbledore arrives a few moments later. “Another year has come and gone!” he says happily. “And what a year it has been. But before I release you on your summer vacations, the house cup here needs to be awarded to the winner. And here are the points: in fourth place, Gryffindor with three hundred and eight points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and sixty-eight.”
The Slytherin house erupts with clapping and cheering. Harry can see Malfoy jumping up and down, with Crabbe and Goyle smiling next to him. “Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” continues Dumbledore. “However, because of some recent events, I believe there might be a change in those numbers.” The whole room goes completely silent. All the Slytherin children lose their smiles.
“First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley…” Ron’s face turns purple with embarrassment. “…for the best game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.” The Gryffindor table cheers crazily! “Second – to Miss Hermione Granger…for bravery while helping an injured friend, and for deep knowledge of herbology under pressure, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”
“Third – to Mr. Harry Potter…” The room goes deadly quiet. “…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.” The noise is almost cataclysmic! Gryffindor now has four hundred and sixty-eight points - exactly the same as Slytherin. There is a tie for the house cup. If only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point…
Then, Dumbledore raises his hand for silence. “There are many kinds of courage,” continues Dumbledore, smiling. “And you must have tremendous courage to stand up to your enemies. But sometimes you need even more courage to stand up to your friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”
All the children from the Gryffindor table yell and cheer, and then run and jump on top of Neville! There is a giant pile of children, all hugging poor Neville at the bottom. “Which means,” Dumbledore yells loudly over all the noise, “we need to change the decoration.” He claps his hands and suddenly all the green Slytherin banners become scarlet and gold Gryffindor banners. The huge Slytherin serpent vanishes and a massive Gryffindor lion takes its place.
It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… being with his friends and the people who cared for him was more than he could ever have asked for. He would never, ever forget this night.
Chapter 17
Capítulo 17
The Man With Two Faces
O homem de duas caras
Harry is not alone in the room. There is someone there already - but it is not Snape. It is not Voldemort, either. It is Quirrell. “You!” cries Harry. Quirrell smiles. “Yes, Potter, it is me,” he answers. “I was wondering if you would get this far.” Quirrell does not stutter once. “But I thought… Snape!” Quirrell laughs a cold, sharp laugh. “Severus? Yes, Severus has been very useful to us. The perfect distraction. Next to him, who would ever suspect p-p-poor, stuttering P-p-professor Quirrell?”
Harry não está sozinho na sala. Já tem alguém lá - mas não é Snape. Também não é Voldemort. É Quirrell. "Você!" grita Harry. Quirrell sorri. “Sim, Potter, sou eu,” ele responde. “Eu queria saber se você chegaria tão longe.” Quirrell não gagueja nenhuma vez. "Mas eu pensei... Snape!" Quirrell dá uma risada fria e cortante. “Severus? Sim, Severus tem sido muito útil para nós. A distração perfeita. Ao lado dele, quem suspeitaria do p-p-pobre e gago p-p-professor Quirrell?
Harry does not understand. “But Snape tried to kill me at the Quidditch game!” he cries. “No, no, no, you silly boy. I tried to kill you at the game, but your little friend, Miss Granger, accidentally knocked me over when she was running to set Snape on fire. She made me lose eye contact with you. If it weren’t for her, I would have knocked you off your broom. I would have been faster, but Snape was using a countercurse, trying to save you.”
Harry não entende. “Mas Snape tentou me matar no jogo de Quadribol!” ele grita. “Não, não, então, seu garoto bobo. Eu tentei te matar no jogo, mas sua amiguinha, Srta. Granger, acidentalmente me derrubou quando ela estava correndo para colocar fogo em Snape. Ela me fez perder contato visual com você. Se não fosse por ela, eu teria derrubado você da vassoura. Eu teria sido mais rápido, mas Snape estava usando um contrafeitiço, tentando salvar você.”
“Snape was trying to save me?” Harry says. He still cannot believe it. “Of course he was,” answers Quirrell. “Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? It didn’t matter anyway. I couldn’t have done anything with Dumbledore there. What a waste of time. After all, I’m going to kill you tonight.”
"Snape estava tentando me salvar?" Harry diz. Ele ainda não consegue acreditar. “É claro que estava”, responde Quirrell. “Por que você acha que ele queria arbitrar sua próxima partida? De qualquer maneira, não importava. Eu não poderia ter feito nada com Dumbledore lá. Que perda de tempo. Afinal, vou matar você esta noite.”
Suddenly, Quirrell snaps his fingers. Ropes appear out of thin air and wrap themselves around Harry’s hands and feet. Harry cannot move. The ropes are very tight. “You’re too much trouble to allow you to live, Potter.” Quirrell continues. “You ruined my plans on Halloween. I wasn’t sure if you knew about me and the Stone…”
De repente, Quirrell estala os dedos. Cordas aparecem do nada e envolvem as mãos e os pés de Harry. Harry não consegue se mover. As cordas estão muito apertadas. "Você é muito problemático para deixar vivo, Potter." Quirrell continua. “Você arruinou meus planos para o Halloween. Eu não tinha certeza se você sabia sobre mim e a Pedra…”
“You let the troll in, didn’t you?” asks Harry, incredulous. “Of course I did. I sent it to kill you. But you and your little friends were stronger than I expected. And Snape already suspected me. That’s why he went to the third floor before me. But the three-headed dog couldn’t even bite his leg off correctly. You just wait there, Potter, while I finish what I started here.” Quirrell turns away from Harry and moves towards the far wall.
“Você deixou o troll entrar, não foi?” pergunta Harry, incrédulo. “Claro que sim. Eu enviei para matar você. Mas você e seus amiguinhos foram mais fortes do que eu esperava. E Snape já suspeitava de mim. É por isso que ele foi para o terceiro andar antes de mim. Mas o cachorro de três cabeças não conseguia nem arrancar a perna corretamente. Espere aí, Potter, enquanto eu termino o que comecei aqui.” Quirrell se afasta de Harry e vai em direção à parede oposta.
It is then that Harry realizes what is behind Quirrell. It is the Mirror of Erised! “This mirror is the key to finding the Stone,” Quirrell says. “Of course Dumbledore would think of something like this to protect the Stone. But I tricked him, and sent him away. He won’t be bothering us tonight…”
É então que Harry percebe o que está por trás de Quirrell. É o Espelho de Ojesed! “Este espelho é a chave para encontrar a Pedra”, diz Quirrell. “É claro que Dumbledore pensaria em algo assim para proteger a Pedra. Mas eu o enganei e o mandei embora. Ele não vai nos incomodar esta noite…”
“But I saw you and Snape in the Forbidden Forest!” Harry says. He is trying to distract Quirrell, so he loses his concentration. “Yes, He tried to frighten me. Ha!” he laughs another cold laugh, “What a fool he was, to think he could stop me, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…” Quirrell continues to look into the Mirror. “I see the Stone. I’m presenting it to my master. But where is it?” he says in frustration.
"Mas eu vi você e Snape na Floresta Proibida!" Harry diz. Ele está tentando distrair Quirrell, para que ele perca a concentração. “Sim, Ele tentou me assustar. Rá!” ele dá outra risada fria, "Que idiota ele foi, pensando que poderia me impedir, quando eu tinha o Senhor Voldemort ao meu lado..." Quirrell continua a olhar para o Espelho. “Eu vejo a Pedra. Estou apresentando ao meu mestre. Mas onde está?” ele diz frustrado.
Harry tries to loosen the ropes around his wrists, but they are too tight. Suddenly, Quirrell makes a strange sound. “Sometimes,” he says, holding his hand to his head, “it is difficult to follow my master’s instruction. He is a powerful wizard, and I am weak…” Quirrell’s face is suddenly full of pain. “Lord Voldemort has shown me the way. I was wrong. There is no good or evil, only power, and those who are too weak to find it.”
Harry tenta afrouxar as cordas em seus pulsos, mas elas estão muito apertadas. De repente, Quirrell faz um som estranho. “Às vezes”, diz ele, levando a mão à cabeça, “é difícil seguir as instruções do meu mestre. Ele é um mago poderoso e eu sou fraco...” O rosto de Quirrell de repente fica cheio de dor. “Senhor Voldemort me mostrou o caminho. Eu estava errado. Não existe bem ou mal, apenas poder, e aqueles que são fracos demais para encontrá-lo.”
“I have served him faithfully. But I cannot always do what he asks. He does not forgive mistakes.” Quirrell’s face is full of pain. “When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was very displeased. He punished me. He decided he could not let me out of his sight.” Of course! Harry thinks. He remembers seeing Quirrell on Diagon Alley, when he visited Gringotts with Hagrid.
“Eu o servi fielmente. Mas nem sempre posso fazer o que ele pede. Ele não perdoa erros.” O rosto de Quirrell está cheio de dor. “Quando não consegui roubar a Pedra de Gringotts, ele ficou muito descontente. Ele me puniu. Ele decidiu que não poderia me perder de vista.” Claro! Harry pensa. Ele se lembra de ter visto Quirrell no Beco Diagonal, quando visitou Gringotts com Hagrid.
Quirrell cries out in pain. “I don’t understand… is the Stone inside the Mirror? Should I break it?” Quirrell is talking out loud, but it seems he is having a conversation with someone - not talking to himself. Then Harry has an idea. What I want more than anything in the world right now, he thinks, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it - I’ll be able to see where it is hidden!
Quirrell grita de dor. “Não entendo… a Pedra está dentro do Espelho? Devo quebrá-lo?” Quirrell está falando em voz alta, mas parece que ele está conversando com alguém - não falando sozinho. Então Harry tem uma ideia. O que eu quero mais do que tudo no mundo agora, ele pensa, é encontrar a Pedra antes de Quirrell. Então, se eu me olhar no espelho, devo me ver encontrando-a – poderei ver onde ela está escondida!
Harry tries to move closer to the Mirror, without Quirrell noticing him. But the ropes are too tight. He cannot move. “What does the Mirror do?” he hears Quirrell say. “How does it work? Master, Help me!” And to Harry’s horror, a voice answers him. The voice comes from inside Quirrell himself. “Use the boy… Use the boy…”
Harry tenta se aproximar do Espelho, sem que Quirrell perceba. Mas as cordas estão muito apertadas. Ele não pode se mover. “O que o Espelho faz?” ele ouve Quirrell dizer. "Como funciona? Mestre, me ajude!” E para horror de Harry, uma voz lhe responde. A voz vem de dentro do próprio Quirrell. “Use o garoto… Use o garoto…”
Quirrell turns around quickly and looks at Harry. “Yes, Master!” cries Quirrell. “Potter, come here.” He claps his hands once and the ropes fall off of Harry’s hands and feet. Harry gets to his feet. “Come here and look in the Mirror and tell me what you see,” Quirrell commands Harry. I must lie, Harry thinks desperately. I must look and lie about what I see. It’s the only way.
Quirrell se vira rapidamente e olha para Harry. "Sim mestre!" grita Quirrell. "Potter, venha aqui." Ele bate palmas uma vez e as cordas caem das mãos e dos pés de Harry. Harry se levanta. "Venha aqui e olhe no espelho e me diga o que você vê", Quirrell ordena a Harry. Devo mentir, Harry pensa desesperadamente. Devo olhar e mentir sobre o que vejo. É a única maneira.
Harry approaches the Mirror. He can smell the strange smell from Quirrell’s turban. Harry closes his eyes, steps in front of the Mirror, then opens them again. At first he sees his reflection. His face is pale and scared. Then a moment later, the reflection smiles at him. His reflection puts its hand into its pocket and pulls out a stone - a red stone, the color of blood. The reflection winks, then puts the stone back in its pocket.
Harry se aproxima do Espelho. Ele pode sentir o cheiro estranho do turbante de Quirrell. Harry fecha os olhos, dá um passo na frente do Espelho e os abre novamente. A princípio ele vê seu reflexo. Seu rosto está pálido e assustado. Então, um momento depois, o reflexo sorri para ele. Seu reflexo coloca a mão no bolso e tira uma pedra - uma pedra vermelha, da cor do sangue. O reflexo pisca e depois coloca a pedra de volta no bolso.
The real Harry then feels something heavy in his own pocket. Somehow, incredibly, he now has the Stone! “Well?” asks Quirrell impatiently, “What do you see?” Harry looks for the courage he needs. “I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” he lies. “I’ve won the house cup for Gryffindor.” Quirrell curses under his breath, and pushes Harry out of the way. Harry moves away from the Mirror - he can feel the weight of the Stone in his pocket.
O verdadeiro Harry então sente algo pesado em seu bolso. De alguma forma, incrivelmente, ele agora tem a Pedra! "E?" pergunta Quirrell impacientemente: "O que você vê?" Harry procura a coragem que precisa. “Eu me vejo apertando a mão de Dumbledore”, ele mente. “Ganhei a taça das casas para a Grifinória.” Quirrell pragueja baixinho e empurra Harry para fora do caminho. Harry se afasta do Espelho – ele pode sentir o peso da Pedra em seu bolso.
“He lies…He lies…” says the voice. “Let me speak to him… face-to-face…” Quirrell turns to Harry again, “But, Master, you’re not strong enough!” Quirrell says. “I have the strength… for this…” Harry is petrified! He cannot move a muscle. He watches as Quirrell turns again towards the Mirror, then he begins to unwrap his turban. Harry wants to scream, but he cannot make a sound.
“Ele mente… Ele mente…” diz a voz. "Deixe-me falar com ele... cara a cara..." Quirrell se vira para Harry novamente, "Mas, Mestre, você não é forte o suficiente!" Quirrell diz. “Eu tenho força… para isso…” Harry está petrificado! Ele não consegue mover um músculo. Ele observa Quirrell se virar novamente em direção ao Espelho e então começar a desembrulhar seu turbante. Harry quer gritar, mas não consegue emitir nenhum som.
The turban falls away, and where the back of Quirrell’s head is supposed to be, there is a face, the most terrible face Harry has ever seen. The face is as white as chalk. Its eyes are wide and red. Where its nose should be, there are only holes, like a snake’s nose. “Harry Potter…” it whispers. “Do you see what I have become?” Harry tries to step backwards and away, but his legs won’t move.
O turbante cai, e onde deveria estar a nuca de Quirrell, há um rosto, o rosto mais terrível que Harry já viu. O rosto está branco como giz. Seus olhos são arregalados e vermelhos. Onde deveria estar o nariz, só há buracos, como o nariz de uma cobra. “Harry Potter…” ele sussurra. “Você vê o que eu me tornei?” Harry tenta dar um passo para trás e se afastar, mas suas pernas não se movem.
“I am a mere shadow and vapor of what I once was… I must share another’s body… but there have always been others who will let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has given me enough strength… you saw Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create my own body… Now, give me the Stone you have in your pocket.”
“Eu sou uma mera sombra e vapor do que já fui... devo compartilhar o corpo de outra pessoa... mas sempre houve outros que me deixarão entrar em seus corações e mentes... O sangue de unicórnio me deu força suficiente... você viu Quirrell bebendo-o por me na floresta... e assim que eu tiver o Elixir da Vida, poderei criar meu próprio corpo... Agora, me dê a Pedra que você tem no bolso.”
So he knows. Suddenly, Harry is able to move his legs. He falls backwards. “Do not be a fool!” yells the face. “Do not waste your life. Join me… or you will suffer the same end as your parents… They died begging me for mercy…” “LIAR!” Harry shouts in anger and fear. “Ha, ha, ha…” the thing laughs. “I killed your father first… but your mother did not need to die… she was trying to protect you… Now, give me the Stone!”
Então ele sabe. De repente, Harry consegue mover as pernas. Ele cai para trás. “Não seja idiota!” grita o rosto. "Não desperdice sua vida. Junte-se a mim… ou você sofrerá o mesmo fim que seus pais… Eles morreram me implorando por misericórdia…” “MENTIROSO!” Harry grita de raiva e medo. “Ha, ha, ha…” a coisa ri. “Eu matei seu pai primeiro… mas sua mãe não precisava morrer… ela estava tentando proteger você… Agora, me dê a Pedra!”
“NEVER!”
"NUNCA!"
Harry runs for the door, but Quirrell’s hand closes on Harry’s wrist. Immediately, Harry feels a terrible pain across the scar on his forehead. His head feels like it will split in two. Suddenly, Quirrell yells in pain and releases Harry’s arm. Quirrell falls to the floor in pain. He is looking at his fingers. They begin to blister.
Harry corre para a porta, mas a mão de Quirrell segura o pulso de Harry. Imediatamente, Harry sente uma dor terrível na cicatriz em sua testa. Sua cabeça parece que vai se dividir em duas. De repente, Quirrell grita de dor e solta o braço de Harry. Quirrell cai no chão de dor. Ele está olhando para os dedos. Eles começam a formar bolhas.
“Get him! GET HIM!” yells Voldemort. Quirrell jumps up at Harry and pushes him to the ground. He lands on top of Harry and puts both hands around his neck, and begins to squeeze! Harry’s scar is almost blinding him with pain. But Quirrell begins to howl in agony! “Master! I cannot hold him! My hands! My hands!”
“Pegue ele! PEGUE-O!” grita Voldemort. Quirrell pula em Harry e o empurra no chão. Ele cai em cima de Harry e coloca as duas mãos em volta do pescoço dele, e começa a apertar! A cicatriz de Harry quase o cega de dor. Mas Quirrell começa a uivar de agonia! "Mestre! Eu não posso segurá-lo! Minhas mãos! Minhas mãos!"
Quirrell is on top of Harry, holding him down with his weight. But he releases his hands from around his neck. He looks at his hands - they are red and smoking, as if they were burned in a fire. “Then kill him, you fool, and be done with it!” screeches Voldemort. Quirrell raises his hands to cast a mortal curse, but Harry reacts by instinct - he reaches up and grabs Quirrell’s face in his own hands.
Quirrell está em cima de Harry, segurando-o com seu peso. Mas ele solta as mãos do pescoço. Ele olha para as mãos - elas estão vermelhas e fumegantes, como se tivessem sido queimadas no fogo. “Então mate-o, seu idiota, e acabe com isso!” grita Voldemort. Quirrell levanta as mãos para lançar uma maldição mortal, mas Harry reage por instinto - ele estende a mão e agarra o rosto de Quirrell com suas próprias mãos.
Quirrell screams in agony, “AAARRRGH!” He rolls off of Harry. His face begins to blister, too. Harry understands - Quirrell cannot touch his skin without feeling terrible pain. He must keep holding Quirrell, to cause him pain and prevent him from casting a curse. Harry runs over to Quirrell and grabs his arm. He hangs on as tightly as he can. The pain in his own head is terrible.
Quirrell grita em agonia, “AAARRRGH!” Ele sai de cima de Harry. Seu rosto também começa a formar bolhas. Harry entende - Quirrell não consegue tocar sua pele sem sentir uma dor terrível. Ele deve continuar segurando Quirrell, para lhe causar dor e impedi-lo de lançar uma maldição. Harry corre até Quirrell e agarra seu braço. Ele se segura o mais forte que pode. A dor em sua cabeça está terrível.
Harry’s vision begins to blur - the pain in his head is agonizing. But he does not let go. He can hear Quirrell’s terrible shrieks, and Voldemort’s yells of, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!” Harry hears other voices. He can see nothing. Maybe they are voices in his own head. Then he feels Quirrell’s arm pulled from his own hands. I have lost, Harry thinks. Then he falls into complete blackness.
A visão de Harry começa a ficar embaçada – a dor em sua cabeça é angustiante. Mas ele não desiste. Ele pode ouvir os gritos terríveis de Quirrell e os gritos de Voldemort: “MATE-O! MATE-O AGORA!” Harry ouve outras vozes. Ele não consegue ver nada. Talvez sejam vozes em sua própria cabeça. Então ele sente o braço de Quirrell ser arrancado de suas próprias mãos. Eu perdi, Harry pensa. Então ele cai na escuridão total.
In his delirium, Harry sees something gold flashing above him. It is the Snitch! He tries to catch it, but he cannot move his arms. He blinks, and opens his eyes completely. It is not the Snitch at all. It is a pair of glasses. He blinks again, and his vision becomes clear. He sees the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore looking at him. “Good afternoon, Harry,” says Dumbledore.
Em seu delírio, Harry vê algo dourado brilhando acima dele. É o pomo! Ele tenta pegá-lo, mas não consegue mover os braços. Ele pisca e abre os olhos completamente. Não é o pomo de forma alguma. É um par de óculos. Ele pisca novamente e sua visão fica clara. Ele vê o rosto sorridente de Albus Dumbledore olhando para ele. “Boa tarde, Harry,” diz Dumbledore.
Harry stares at Dumbledore, then remembers, “The Stone! It was Quirrell! He’s got the Stone! Sir, please, hurry you must…” “Calm down, dear boy. It’s ok. Quirrell does not have the Stone.” “Then, who does, sir? What happened?” Harry is desperate. “Relax, Harry, or Madam Pomfrey will kick me out.” Harry realizes at that moment that he is in the hospital wing, in a hospital bed.
Harry encara Dumbledore e então se lembra: “A Pedra! Foi Quirrell! Ele tem a Pedra! Senhor, por favor, apresse-se, você deve...” “Acalme-se, querido garoto. Tudo bem. Quirrell não está com a Pedra.” “Então, quem tem, senhor? O que aconteceu?" Harry está desesperado. "Relaxe, Harry, ou Madame Pomfrey vai me expulsar." Harry percebe naquele momento que está na ala hospitalar, em uma cama de hospital.
Dumbledore patiently answers all of Harry’s questions. He has been in the hospital for three days. Quirrell does not have the Stone because Dumbledore arrived just in time to prevent him from getting it, and the battle almost killed Harry. The Stone has been destroyed - no one will ever be able to drink the Elixir of Life. And as for Voldemort, Dumbledore says, well, Voldemort has escaped.
Dumbledore responde pacientemente a todas as perguntas de Harry. Ele está internado há três dias. Quirrell não está com a Pedra porque Dumbledore chegou bem a tempo de impedi-lo de pegá-la, e a batalha quase matou Harry. A Pedra foi destruída - ninguém jamais poderá beber o Elixir da Vida. E quanto a Voldemort, Dumbledore diz, bem, Voldemort escapou.
He is still out there somewhere, maybe looking for another body to share. He was never truly alive, so he cannot be killed. He may return, says Dumbledore, but Harry has delayed that possibility for now. “But sir,” says Harry, “there are things that I want to know the truth about. Will you tell me?”
Ele ainda está por aí em algum lugar, talvez procurando outro corpo para compartilhar. Ele nunca esteve verdadeiramente vivo, então não pode ser morto. Ele pode retornar, diz Dumbledore, mas Harry adiou essa possibilidade por enquanto. “Mas senhor”, diz Harry, “há coisas sobre as quais quero saber a verdade. Você vai me contar?"
“If you ask me,” Dumbledore responds, “I cannot lie to you, Harry. But the truth can be a terrible thing.” Harry considers this for a moment, then continues, “Well, Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?” Dumbledore sighs very deeply, “My poor Harry, this question I cannot answer, not today. But when you are ready, you will know.”
“Se você me perguntar”, responde Dumbledore, “não posso mentir para você, Harry. Mas a verdade pode ser uma coisa terrível.” Harry considera isso por um momento e então continua: “Bem, Voldemort disse que ele só matou minha mãe porque ela tentou impedi-lo de me matar. Mas por que ele iria querer me matar em primeiro lugar?” Dumbledore suspira profundamente, “Meu pobre Harry, esta pergunta não posso responder, não hoje. Mas quando estiver pronto, você saberá.”
Harry understands that he cannot win an argument with Dumbledore. So he asks another question, “Do you know who sent me the invisibility cloak?” “Ah, that question I can answer! Your father left the cloak with me, and I thought you might like it.” Dumbledore smiles. “The cloak is a useful thing… your father used it to sneak into the kitchen and steal food when he was here.”
Harry entende que não pode vencer uma discussão com Dumbledore. Então ele faz outra pergunta: “Você sabe quem me enviou a capa da invisibilidade?” “Ah, essa pergunta eu posso responder! Seu pai deixou a capa comigo e pensei que você poderia gostar. Dumbledore sorri. “A capa é uma coisa útil… seu pai a usava para entrar furtivamente na cozinha e roubar comida quando estava aqui.”
“I have one more question,” says Harry. “Of course you do,” says Dumbledore, smiling even more, “what is it?” “How did I get the Stone?” asks Harry. “Well, Harry, that was one of my most brilliant ideas. Only someone who was true of heart could find the Stone. The Mirror knew that most people only wanted the Stone for its magical properties. But it saw the truth in you - you wanted the Stone only to prevent Voldemort from getting it.”
“Tenho mais uma pergunta”, diz Harry. "Claro que sim", diz Dumbledore, sorrindo ainda mais, "o que é?" “Como consegui a Pedra?” pergunta Harry. “Bem, Harry, essa foi uma das minhas ideias mais brilhantes. Somente alguém que fosse sincero poderia encontrar a Pedra. O Espelho sabia que a maioria das pessoas só queria a Pedra por suas propriedades mágicas. Mas ele viu a verdade em você: você queria a Pedra apenas para evitar que Voldemort a conseguisse.”
“Now, enough questions. You must rest. Your friends have been dying to see you, but Madam Pomfrey would not let them in. Rest now, Mr. Potter. You will need your energy to retell the story of your adventure.” Harry smiles and puts his head back on his pillow. He closes his eyes and is asleep almost instantly.
“Agora, chega de perguntas. Você precisa descansar. Seus amigos estavam morrendo de vontade de ver você, mas Madame Pomfrey não os deixou entrar. Descanse agora, Sr. Potter. Você precisará de sua energia para recontar a história de sua aventura.” Harry sorri e coloca a cabeça no travesseiro. Ele fecha os olhos e adormece quase instantaneamente.
Madam Pomfrey finally lets Harry leave the next evening, after one more check-up. He arrives in the Great Hall just in time for the end-of-the-year celebration dinner. When Harry walks in, all the children stop talking and look at Harry. Then everyone starts talking all at the same time. Harry finds a seat next to Hermione and Ron at the Gryffindor table. The Great Hall is decorated with Slytherin colors and banners. It is their seventh victory in a row.
Madame Pomfrey finalmente deixa Harry ir embora na noite seguinte, depois de mais um check-up. Ele chega ao Salão Principal bem a tempo para o jantar de comemoração de fim de ano. Quando Harry entra, todas as crianças param de falar e olham para Harry. Então todos começam a falar ao mesmo tempo. Harry encontra um lugar ao lado de Hermione e Ron na mesa da Grifinória. O Salão Principal é decorado com as cores e faixas da Sonserina. É a sétima vitória consecutiva.
Dumbledore arrives a few moments later. “Another year has come and gone!” he says happily. “And what a year it has been. But before I release you on your summer vacations, the house cup here needs to be awarded to the winner. And here are the points: in fourth place, Gryffindor with three hundred and eight points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and sixty-eight.”
Dumbledore chega alguns momentos depois. “Mais um ano chegou e se foi!” ele diz feliz. “E que ano que foi. Mas antes de eu liberar vocês nas férias de verão, a taça das casas aqui precisa ser concedida ao vencedor. E aqui estão os pontos: em quarto lugar, a Grifinória com trezentos e oito pontos; em terceiro, Lufa-Lufa, com trezentos e cinquenta e dois; Corvinal tem quatrocentos e vinte e seis e Sonserina, quatrocentos e sessenta e oito.
The Slytherin house erupts with clapping and cheering. Harry can see Malfoy jumping up and down, with Crabbe and Goyle smiling next to him. “Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” continues Dumbledore. “However, because of some recent events, I believe there might be a change in those numbers.” The whole room goes completely silent. All the Slytherin children lose their smiles.
A casa da Sonserina irrompe em aplausos e aplausos. Harry pode ver Malfoy pulando, com Crabbe e Goyle sorrindo ao lado dele. “Sim, sim, muito bem, Sonserina,” continua Dumbledore. “No entanto, devido a alguns acontecimentos recentes, acredito que poderá haver uma mudança nesses números.” A sala inteira fica completamente silenciosa. Todas as crianças da Sonserina perdem o sorriso.
“First – to Mr. Ronald Weasley…” Ron’s face turns purple with embarrassment. “…for the best game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.” The Gryffindor table cheers crazily! “Second – to Miss Hermione Granger…for bravery while helping an injured friend, and for deep knowledge of herbology under pressure, I award Gryffindor house fifty points.”
"Primeiro – ao Sr. Ronald Weasley..." O rosto de Ron fica roxo de vergonha. “…pelo melhor jogo de xadrez que Hogwarts já viu em muitos anos, dou cinquenta pontos à casa da Grifinória.” A mesa da Grifinória aplaude loucamente! "Segundo - para a Srta. Hermione Granger... pela bravura ao ajudar um amigo ferido e pelo profundo conhecimento de herbologia sob pressão, concedo cinquenta pontos à casa da Grifinória."
“Third – to Mr. Harry Potter…” The room goes deadly quiet. “…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points.” The noise is almost cataclysmic! Gryffindor now has four hundred and sixty-eight points - exactly the same as Slytherin. There is a tie for the house cup. If only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point…
"Terceiro – para o Sr. Harry Potter..." A sala fica mortalmente silenciosa. “…por pura coragem e bravura excepcional, atribuo sessenta pontos à casa da Grifinória.” O barulho é quase cataclísmico! A Grifinória agora tem quatrocentos e sessenta e oito pontos - exatamente o mesmo que a Sonserina. Há empate para a copa das casas. Se ao menos Dumbledore tivesse dado a Harry apenas mais um ponto...
Then, Dumbledore raises his hand for silence. “There are many kinds of courage,” continues Dumbledore, smiling. “And you must have tremendous courage to stand up to your enemies. But sometimes you need even more courage to stand up to your friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”
Então, Dumbledore levanta a mão pedindo silêncio. “Existem muitos tipos de coragem”, continua Dumbledore, sorrindo. “E você deve ter uma coragem tremenda para enfrentar seus inimigos. Mas às vezes você precisa de ainda mais coragem para enfrentar seus amigos. Portanto, atribuo dez pontos ao Sr. Neville Longbottom.”
All the children from the Gryffindor table yell and cheer, and then run and jump on top of Neville! There is a giant pile of children, all hugging poor Neville at the bottom. “Which means,” Dumbledore yells loudly over all the noise, “we need to change the decoration.” He claps his hands and suddenly all the green Slytherin banners become scarlet and gold Gryffindor banners. The huge Slytherin serpent vanishes and a massive Gryffindor lion takes its place.
Todas as crianças da mesa da Grifinória gritam e comemoram, e depois correm e pulam em cima de Neville! Há uma pilha gigante de crianças, todas abraçadas ao pobre Neville no fundo. "O que significa", Dumbledore grita bem alto em meio a todo o barulho, "precisamos mudar a decoração." Ele bate palmas e de repente todos os estandartes verdes da Sonserina se transformam em estandartes escarlates e dourados da Grifinória. A enorme serpente da Sonserina desaparece e um enorme leão da Grifinória toma o seu lugar.
It was the best evening of Harry’s life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls… being with his friends and the people who cared for him was more than he could ever have asked for. He would never, ever forget this night.
Foi a melhor noite da vida de Harry, melhor do que vencer no Quadribol, ou no Natal, ou nocautear trolls da montanha... estar com seus amigos e as pessoas que gostavam dele era mais do que ele jamais poderia ter pedido. Ele nunca, jamais esqueceria esta noite.
