Disclaimer: As much as it pains me to say this, I do not own Harry Potter... sadly, J.K. Rowling is the only one who owns him, along with all of the other wonderful (and sometimes not) characters. She is the creator of the universe we here at Harry Potter fanfiction take refuge in... so we should all stop dreaming of being the creator and owner of Harry Potter, all his fabulous friends, and all his horrific enemies. Hey, that's my best disclaimer yet! So dramatic... and yet so true... (insert morose, wistful sob here).

Author's Note: Yes, I know this chapter's kinda short, but i thought it best to have the trapdoor journey, confrontation and 'Epilogue' all in one chapter with nothing else, 'cause any other chapter might look weird combined with this one. Also, this is the last chapter taken from 'The Core of Power I: Bonded Souls'! Yay! From here on in there will be large gaps between updates, but everything will be new and never-before-seen, exclusive to fanfiction dot net!

Three - The Second Showdown

The next few weeks passed in a flash for Harry, Ron and Hermione

The next few weeks passed in a flash for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron had been delighted to find that Malfoy had gotten a detention, and even more delighted to discover that his detention had been in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had been the one to take him in, and reported that Malfoy hadn't been quite so brave amongst, to quote him, 'w-werewolves and c-centaurs!' On a darker note, Hagrid also informed them of a strange being in the forest that night, and had also let slip that it had drunk unicorn blood – and Hermione had then realized that drinking unicorn blood would, in her words, 'sustain your life even at the brink of death, while condemning you to a cursed half-life.

It was the afternoon after the exams, in which Harry felt unusually confident about seeing as Ginny had helped him, looking up all the answers he needed in the middle of each test, that Harry realized it. "That Philosopher's Stone, it said in your book, Hermione, that it made the Elixir of Life! Someone who drank unicorn blood would probably be after a Philosopher's Stone, wouldn't they? It all fits!" Without waiting for a reply, Harry bolted off towards Hagrid's.

"Hagrid, who'd you get that dragon egg off of?" he panted as soon as he got there, bending over and putting his hands on his knees.

Hagrid, who looked quite startled by Harry's sudden appearance, answered, "I got it off a bloke I met down at the pub – you know, the Hog's Head."

"What did he look like?" Harry rushed on as a bewildered Ron and Hermione appeared from chasing him.

"I dunno, 'e kept 'is cloak on an' 'is hood up," said Hagrid, still bemused-looking.

Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione, who finally seemed to catch on. Without waiting for a reply from Hagrid, the trio raced back up the hill towards Hogwarts.

They were just bolting past the greenhouses when Harry skidded to a halt and bent over double; his scar was hurting, and it was hurting a lot!

"Ouch!" he said, rubbing his forehead.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione, concerned.

"It's my scar, it's really hurting."

"Has it ever hurt before like this, mate?" Ron asked.

"No, not like this… but it did twinge a bit the night Malfoy had his detention," Harry answered.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. "Come on, we've got to see Dumbledore," said Hermione. "We can ask him what it means."

Together the three of them raced into the castle. Just as Harry realized that they had no idea where Dumbledore might be, a voice rang out across the Entrance Hall: "What are you doing indoors?"

It was McGonagall, a pile of books tucked under her arm and a stern expression on her face.

"We – we need to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry said hesitantly.

McGonagall glared at them suspiciously. "See Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, as though it was an unsuitable request. "I'm sure anything you would want to say to Professor Dumbledore can be said to me. What is it?"

"We – we, um, we think that someone might – might want to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Harry stuttered.

The books McGonagall was holding tumbled out of her arms. Once she regained her composure, she snapped, "Well, I can assure you that the Stone is very well protected. You need not worry. And Professor Dumbledore is not here at the school at the moment. He got a very important and urgent call from the Ministry." Her lips were thin, white, and pressed tightly together, not to mention her nostrils were flared – signs that she would not be any further convinced. Dejected, the trio wandered back outside, standing well away from the other students.

"Tonight," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione. "Whoever or whatever that thing in the forest was, it's bound to go after the Stone with Dumbledore gone. I say we try and get to it first."

Later that night, when all the rest of the students had dispersed from the common room, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood ready in the middle of the room, the Invisibility Cloak tucked inside Harry's robes. Sneaking through the portrait hole, the threesome quickly ducked into the shadow of a nearby suit of armour and threw the Cloak hastily over themselves – they couldn't get through the portrait hole invisible, so they had to put it on outside. Harry had also brought the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas – their large friend had let slip the teensy-weensy detail that you needed music to get past Fluffy.

Sneaking down the corridors and ever-shifting staircases, Harry, Ron and Hermione were on incredible edge. Every suit of armour looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves. When they finally reached the door to the third-floor corridor, they saw that it was ajar. Nervously creeping in, the three of them grouped around Fluffy, who sniffed around confusedly – he could smell them.

"Start playing, Harry," Ron whispered nervously. Harry put the flute to his lips and blew, awkwardly beginning to play the first tune that came to his head.

Fluffy's eyelids drooped from the first note. Soon enough, the humongous beast was fast asleep.

"Come on," muttered Hermione, pulling the Cloak off. "Let's go." She stepped over one of Fluffy's sprawled-out legs and pulled up the trapdoor, bending over it.

"It's a long drop," said Ron. "There's no ladder or anything, we're just going to have to jump. Who's going first?"

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved his arms at himself.

"You sure?" Ron asked Harry, who nodded. "Alright, give the flute to Hermione then."

Harry passed the flute over as quickly as he could so as not to wake Fluffy up and, before he could work himself up, leapt through the hole. Down, down, down he dropped until…

Flump. Harry landed on some kind of soft, squishy surface, which felt sort of like a plant. "It's all right, you can jump!" he called up.

Ron and Hermione soon joined him. It wasn't until they did that he – or Ginny, rather – noticed it. (Ginny had insisted on staying up).

The plant was winding itself around their legs!

Hermione, who had been the last to land, managed to struggle to the edge of the plant and onto a ledge at the side, which led to a door. Harry and Ron, however, were both tightly bound to the plant's surface.

"What is it?" gasped Harry and Ron simultaneously.

"It's – it's Devil's Snare!" gasped Hermione. "I've read about it somewhere – but how do you kill it?" She looked panicked. "It – it likes the dark and the damp, so… so light a fire!" She whipped out her wand and pointed it at the Devil's Snare, whispering a hasty spell. Blue flames erupted from her wand, slashing at the tendrils of green wound around the two boys' legs, allowing them to stumble beside her to the ledge. Together, the threesome leapt towards the next door and flung it open.

"Birds?" asked Ron. "What the hell?"

The room appeared to be filled with hundreds of birds flying through the air – but there was something odd about them… they were too skinny and spindly, and they glittered as they soared through the air…

"They're not birds!" Harry realized aloud. "They're keys!" He glanced around the room. "Look!" he said, pointing. "Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

After a long struggle, they managed to catch the right key – the only silver one – and slammed through that door, too. The next room was the spitting image of a giant chess set, the black pieces on their side of the chessboard.

"We've got to play our way across the board!" Ron announced, for once the first to figure something out.

Ron was in his element. "Hermione, you replace that castle," he ordered, taking the lead. "Harry, you replace that bishop over there. I'll be a knight."

The chess game was the most difficult obstacle yet – not to mention the most tedious one. However, they soon began to take the lead over the white pieces – but there was a catch.

"They've got to take me for us to win," a white-faced Ron said hollowly.

"No, you can't! There's got to be another way!" Hermione screeched, paling too.

"I've got to," said Ron with grim determination. "Then you'll be free to check the king, Harry." Harry shook his head, but Ron didn't listen. He strode forward and then to the side, and –

Thump. Ron fell to the floor with a thud. Hermione was about to run to him when Harry said, "No. Stay there." He took two shaky steps forward, facing the stone-faced white king head on and saying, "Checkmate." The king fell to the floor at Harry's feet.

Only then did Harry and Hermione race to Ron's side. "Ron!" Hermione yelled desperately.

It was no use. Ron was out cold. Ginny whimpered in Harry's head, worried for her brother. "We'll have to go on," Harry said to Hermione, trying to steady his voice. She just nodded helplessly.

The next room was a lot smaller than the other three, with a door at one end and a small shelf of potions in the middle. Harry and Hermione stepped hesitantly into the room and –

Flames erupted in front and behind them, stretching from wall to wall. The flames behind them were purple, and the flames in front of them were black.

Hermione stepped cautiously forward to the shelf of potions and picked up a small white note from the shelf, appearing to read something written on it.

"It's a logic puzzle!" she announced gleefully. "I can figure this out, hang on…" She began muttering to herself.

Finally, she announced, "I know!"

"What?" asked Harry curiously.

"This one," said Hermione, plucking a bottle from the shelf, "will allow you to walk safely through the purple flames without harm. And this one," she plucked another bottle off the shelf, "will let you walk through the black flames safely and without harm." She smiled triumphantly.

Harry looked in the bottle she had said would take you through to the next room and said dubiously, "There's only enough for one of us in here."

The two of them looked at each other. "You go," said Hermione resignedly.

Harry nodded and accepted the bottle as she passed it to him.

"Well, here goes," Hermione said before tipping up the bottle into her mouth.

"Now, go and get Ron, and fly up past the Devil's Snare with brooms from the flying-key room and send a note to Dumbledore at the Owlery. Hurry!"

Hermione nodded and, taking a deep breath, walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry glanced down at the tiny bottle in his hands. Staring at it, he finally took a small sip and shuddered. It tasted like ice!

Before he could change his mind and get stuck here, Harry walked head-on into the flames.

Who is it, Harry? Is it Snape or Quirrell? Ginny asked.

"It's…"

-- -- --

Quirrell. He turned as soon as Harry entered the room, smiling an ugly, twisted smile. "Ah, Harry," he said. "I thought you might be here. Are you surprised it was me?"

Harry shuddered – Quirrell's tone was cold and sharp, without even the faintest tremble. "Not really," he answered finally, after he got over the initial shock of Quirrell's voice change.

Quirrell's face seemed to twist even more, if that was possible. "Lies!" he said. "How'd you guess?"

"At the Quidditch match," Harry said, fighting to steady his own voice. "Hermione said she knocked you over before casting that spell on Snape."

Quirrell sneered. "Yes, your little friend broke my eye contact," he snapped. "You would've been off your broom long before that if it hadn't've been for Snape muttering his little counter-curse." He looked livid as he mentioned the name, but then seemed to brighten – that in itself was a horrid sight. "But then, it was very useful. Next to Snape, who would suspect me?"

Quirrell then turned away again, and Harry realized with a jolt what was behind him – the Mirror of Erised!

What's the Mirror of Erised? Ginny asked.

It's this mirror – it shows you what you want most in the world – hang on, the Stone must be inside it! Quirrell wants it more than anything else at the moment, so he'll see the Stone! Harry half-answered, half-realized. Meanwhile, as he was figuring this out, Quirrell had been muttering to himself. And then –

"To get the Stone… Use the boy…" uttered the most terrible voice Harry had ever heard in his whole life. Or had he…?

"Boy!" snapped Quirrell. "Get over here! Look in the mirror and tell me what you see!" And Harry felt his feet moving against his will, carrying him towards the mirror. He stood in front of it, legs trembling, and saw…

The Stone! There he was, reflected in the glass, his reflection's hand putting the Stone into his pocket – and suddenly, a real weight fell into his pocket! He had the Stone!

"Now, what do you see?" demanded Quirrell.

You'll have to lie, Ginny warned.

I know, Harry answered, then said aloud, "I… I see myself holding the House Cup. I've won it for Gryffindor."

For a moment it looked like Quirrell believed him… but then that high, cold voice issued from… from his turban? "He lies…"

Flames erupted suddenly all around the room, trapping Harry. Quirrell smiled nastily and said, "You've got the Stone, haven't you?" Harry shook his head vehemently, but in vain.

"Let me see him…" said that terrible voice.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell insisted.

"I am strong… enough… for this…" the voice said.

Quirrell nodded, and then turned. He began to unwind the turban on his head, slowly, carefully. And then…

The most horrible, twisted grey face that Harry had ever seen stared out at Harry with slitlike red eyes. It opened its mouth and said, "Harry Potter… you see what I have become?"

It was Voldemort. There was no doubt about it.

Harry gasped without making a sound, swallowing hard. "Kill him!" Voldemort ordered.

Harry broke into a run, but there was nowhere to run to. Cornered against a wall of hissing and spitting flame, he felt Quirrell's hands close around his neck…

And all of a sudden, those hands withdrew, blistering and red raw. Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin!

"With a curse, with a curse!" gasped Voldemort. Quirrell withdrew his wand and pointed it straight between Harry's eyes, but on instinct, Harry lurched forward and seized Quirrell's head…

It was painful, and Harry felt that his scar would burst open from the effort, but he held on desperately, watching Quirrell's skin burn away before his eyes…

And then everything went black.

Molly Weasley had never been more scared in her life. She had been lying in her bed, watching the clock tick to midnight and waiting for her overworked husband to come home from Merlin only knows how many raids, when she heard a sudden, unexpected scream coming from her only daughter's room.

She had then rushed straight down there, only to see, to her shock and horror, her daughter lying on the floor and convulsing terribly, clutching her head. She had run straight to the fireplace and, in her haste, grabbed way to much Floo powder, but Dumbledore's office was empty. She hadn't even been this frightened when she had found her youngest and only girl unconscious in the woods with Harry Potter… her daughter was clearly in pain. Not knowing what to do and having tried every healing spell she knew of, Molly simply stared with wide, tear-filled eyes as her daughter gave a great, shuddering gasp and went limp, hands still on her forehead.

-- -- --

Albus Dumbledore had a lot to think about. It had been a long few days, that was for sure.

First, he had returned from a false alarm from the Ministry to find Professor Quirrell dead and Harry Potter with the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket. He had taken Harry straight to the hospital wing and Floo-called Nicolas Flamel immediately.

After a long while, they and Nicolas' wife Perenelle, both of which were over six hundred years old, had decided to destroy the fabled stone. Albus had said his last farewell to his dear old friend quite downhearted.

That wasn't the most puzzling thing, however. Shortly after his goodbye to his dear old partner in alchemy, a new face had poked through his fireplace – the face of Molly Weasley, who claimed that her daughter had fallen unconscious, screaming, for no apparent reason. The most interesting thing was that this had happened at the exact same time of Harry's showdown with Quirrell.

After explaining everything that had happened to Harry, Albus now had plenty of time to wonder about the strange friendship between Harry and Ginny. He had been there the night that Harry had seen the Mirror of Erised, and had been quite surprised when he saw the picture of Ginny and Harry with a baby. Also, there was the fishy thing that despite their instantaneous friendship, not one letter had been sent between the two friends, save for the identical Christmas presents.

Albus sighed. He had his suspicions about Harry and Ginny, but not enough proof to support these suspicions. He would have to watch them very closely next year, when Ginny came to school.

Harry and Ginny were both as nervous and excited as each other. For the first time in nine months, they would be seeing each other in person! Harry couldn't concentrate as he half-played Exploding Snap with Ron, Hermione looking on at their games.

Finally, after what seemed like years to Harry and Ginny both, the train slowed to a stop. Harry was the first off the train, scanning the mob of people on the platform for his red-headed soul mate. And then –

A blur of red tackled him to the ground. "Harry!" a voice both said in his mind and squealed out loud.

She was almost as tall as him now, and her hair was longer and wavier. Harry blinked twice as he took in every detail of her, and together they walked up to Mrs. Weasley.

"We're bringing you back with us, dear," she said forlornly. "You can eat dinner at the Burrow and then go back, okay?"

Harry nodded. You shouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys at all, Ginny said.

I know, answered Harry. But I'll see you every day. And you know how we're not allowed to use magic?

Yeah, Ginny said.

Dudley doesn't know that.

Author's Note: Before you review me with the question I know you're all waiting to ask, note this: Harry has momentarily forgotten about the Trace no longer existing on him. Will he remember? You'll have to read the next chapter to find out! Muahahahahahahahaha! On my old story heaps of people reviewed just to ask about that, so I thought I'd clear that up. I put this author's note at the end of the chappie rather than at the start in case someone new to the fic didn't know what I was talking about. Anyway, please review, people! I can't believe I've forgotten to ask that in the last few updates - I must be sick or something! Anyway, please review, because they really do keep me motivated to update faster. I know readers find that a whole bunch of codswallop - hell, I sure did before I started writing - but reviews really do motivate people, so please?

Thanks for reading,

SapphireDragon92.