CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Yes, him — Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my fa-
ther. Is that true?”
“Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and
Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could
never forgive.”
“What?”
“He saved his life.”
“What?”
“Yes . . .” said Dumbledore dreamily. “Funny, the way people’s
minds work, isn’t it? Professor Snape couldn’t bear being in your fa-
ther’s debt. . . . I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this
year because he felt that would make him and your father even.
Then he could go back to hating your father’s memory in
peace. . . .”
Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he
stopped.
“And sir, there’s one more thing . . .”
“Just the one?”
“How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?”
“Ah, now, I’m glad you asked me that. It was one of my more
brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that’s saying something.
You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not
use it — would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see them-
selves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises
even me sometimes. . . . Now, enough questions. I suggest you
make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans!
I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-
flavored one, and since then I’m afraid I’ve rather lost my liking for
them — but I think I’ll be safe with a nice toffee, don’t you?”
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