Title: The Puir Laddie Who Lived

Author: Fojee aka Punk Bandit

Chapter 7

The "t'ree heided beastie" was knocked out beside what looked like a trap door by the time Harry Potter got there. Killem stood beside it, looking both proud and guilty. "I t'ink I hit it a leetle too haerd," he said shamefacedly.

Harry went closer cautiously, trying to examine the dog without waking it up. "It doesn't seem that bad," he announced after listening to its breathing. "What were you doing here, anyway?" He turned to them with raised eyebrows. "I thought I told you to stay near Professor Quirrell?"

Hobble and Killem both pointed at the trapdoor. "'E went doon there," they chimed. "The scunner used a reed t'sing the beastie to sleep, but it woke up as soon as 'e left. And I didn't know the way of gonnagling so I used my heid," Killem elaborated.

Harry frowned down at the trapdoor. Should he follow the turbaned man through it, even though Headmaster Dumbledore strictly forbade it? But then the old wizard always seemed to say one thing and mean another, so maybe he was supposed to go down there after all.

He was saved from making a decision by Hobble and Killem hauling the trapdoor upward and jumping in the dark hole revealed in the floor. "They can tak' oour lives, but they cannae tak' oour troousers!" "There can only be one t'ousand!" They shouted their separate war cries as they jumped.

So Harry had no choice but to jump in after them. Sometimes he felt as if the two wee free men were his charges instead of the other way around.

He prepared for a long, hard fall, but was surprised to land softly in the complete darkness of the room. He reached his box of matches automatically, but could not reach a wall to strike it against, and whatever he landed on seemed too smooth. Finally he remembered his wand, even while he heard loud thumps and looked around in alarm while the world moved beneath him.

"Lumos" he spoke softly, breathing in relief as the tip of his wand glowed, casting dim light in the small space.

He was surrounded by foliage, masses of leaves and tendrils snaking around him. Somewhere nearby, Killem and Hobble seemed to be battling the branches with their swords and their heads, although the hacks and cracks didn't seem to phase the strange plant.

One creeper had slid across his chest before Harry finally recognized the plant to be Devil's Snare. He immediately turned the dim light on his wand into a large fireball to stop it from suffocating him. The two wee free men cheered him on even as they cursed at the plant and continued hacking. Harry felt a little sorry for it as its branches retreated from his fire frantically. But he knew the Devil's Snare was a hardy plant and would bounce back from such damage.

As soon as they jumped free of its chokehold, Harry turned the fireball back to a fairly bright Lumos. He headed down the sloped passageway with both pictsies on his shoulders, boasting about their prowess in battle.

"Shhh!" Harry held up a hand as he tried to make out the strange rustling that came from ahead. "It could be another enemy."

The two fell silent even as they advanced into a tall chamber filled with strange, gleaming birds fluttering about. Harry held his wand out ready, half-expecting the birds to swoop in and attack him, but they darted here and there in absolute chaos.

He spotted the door at the opposite end and ran through the room towards it. But when he tried the knob, it was locked and his Alohomora charm didn't work.

"Let us try," Hobble said before the two jumped down and broke the door with their heads. It swung open with a creak.

"We're verra good wi doors," Killem said proudly.

The next chamber was so dark that it seemed to swallow the Lumos that Harry's wand produced. As soon as he entered however, lights that seemed to have no source flooded the room. Harry gasped at what it revealed.

In front of him lay a huge chessboard, with tall, black chessmen made of stone facing away. From across the chamber, the white pieces stood; they had no faces and yet they seemed to stare back in anticipation. Slowly, one white statue inched forward two places.

"It's like Thud!" Harry exclaimed, having heard about the game between dwarves and trolls that had gained popularity in Ankh Morpork, which trickled upwards in Lancre slowly but surely. But he soon felt dismay; he didn't know the rules of this particular game. He knew it was called chess, and something like it existed back home in the Discworld, and he had heard that there were kings and queens in it, and even horses. But chess was played exclusively by aristocrats and assassins. So he had no idea how he could win it to reach the other side.

"Leave that t'us," Killem said.

Harry half expected them to direct the statues as if they were troops, but instead the Nac mac Feegle sped away in blue blurs and knocked down the tallest of the white chessmen: the king, judging by its crown.

There was a brief silence, before the chessmen inched sideways to let them pass.

Harry fought down the urge to apologize to them. He walked carefully past them towards another door. He pushed it open.

A disgusting smell filled his nostrils, making his eyes water and beyond the door, flat on the floor, a troll larger than the one that had attacked Hermione lay with what looked like a huge lump on its head.

He tiptoed past it and was almost to the door when the thumps registered. He turned back to see Hobble and Killem kicking the troll's head.

"Stop that." He had to resort to speaking in Mistress Aching's sheepherding tones to get the two wee free men to listen. "It's out cold, and it's just cruel to hurt it now."

Those two seemed so overexcited by living through an actual adventure after growing up hearing of their father and uncles' exploits, that they went after everything with an extra helping of glee.

He herded them through the next door, where a table stood with seven differently shaped bottles in a line. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, a purple fire sprang up behind him in the doorway, while black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

Not even brute force will get us out of this one, Harry thought. Then he noticed a piece of parchment lying on the table. It read:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Harry's brow furrowed in thought as he tried to piece together the badly rhymed riddle. He had just about decided which one was the potion for getting across, when Hobble dropped down and tilted one bottle directly into his mouth.

It held death.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, but cut himself short when Hobble just burped.

Killem scrambled down to join the taste testing, so Harry grabbed the smallest bottle just before the blue men started getting really pished.

It held only enough for one person, but Harry was reluctant to leave the two pictsies behind, so he made them drink a drop each, and the gulped down the rest of the bottle's contents. It was like liquid ice down his throat, making him shiver violently. Then he grabbed his two very drunk companions, shoved them down his pockets, and walked through the fire.

The other side was another door, and this time, Harry felt something like fear in his thudding heart as he turned the knob.

Professor Quirinus Quirrell stood in the middle of the room, in front of the Mirror of Erised. His back was to Harry, yet at the sight of him, the scar on his forehead pulsed with white-hot pain. Harry could not stop the gasp that escaped his lips. Quirrell turned around at the sound.

He smiled maliciously. "Harry Potter! So you made it after all. Well, that might very well serve our purposes, my Lord," he said, surprisingly stutter-free.

A muffled voice replied, "Yesss. Show me the boy."

Harry looked around but could not see its owner. Could he be invisible? But Quirrell slowly unwound his turban, all the while holding Harry immobile with his gaze.

"Come closer, boy," he whispered, even as he bared his head, and turned around.

A face peered back at him from Quirrell's head: a pair of slit eyes and a mouth that contorted in a parody of a smile. "Harry Potter, my greatest enemy," the mouth spoke in a sibilant hiss. "See what you have reduced me to."

"Who are you?" Harry asked bravely, even as he gripped his wand tightly. It felt suddenly useless in his hand. None of the lessons he had learned could help him here and he knew it.

"I am Lord Voldemort," the snake-like man said. "I killed your parents while you watched, Harry Potter. I would have killed you, too."

Harry gulped. So this was the Dark Lord. "What do you want from me?"

Quirrell turned to face him, stepping closer. "It's simple really, my boy. Just step in front of this mirror and tell us what you see."

But Harry could not move his feet. Quirrell had to haul him closer by his robes. "Do it, or I will decorate this room with your blood," he hissed in Harry's ear.

Harry's eyes turned unwillingly towards the mirror. His own face stared back, but Quirrell was not reflected.

"Tell me what you see, boy," Quirrell said, shaking his arm hard.

"Nothing," Harry said carefully. "Maybe if you tell me what I'm supposed to see…" His mind whirled. The mirror felt different and yet familiar. It felt… like that doorway in the tree did.

"The stone! I know Dumbledore placed it in the mirror, but I don't know how to get it out." Quirrell scrabbled uselessly at the glass. "I can see myself using it to cure you, master. And I can see the hoard of gold we will have. But how can I get it?" He raged.

Hobble peeked out from his shirt pocket. "Ach, crivens! Go through the mirror, laddie. I'll beat that scunner in the heid," he said, half-slurred. Killem also wobbled out, making hic noises and waving his sword over his swaying head.

Quirrell blinked at them in surprise. Harry took the chance to jump in. The surface of the mirror shimmered, and he passed through it as if through water. Beyond it, there was another room, and on the opposite wall hung another mirror, this time saying Desire the correct way. A stone lay on a dais in the middle, and it pulsed as if in greeting.

Harry stood between the two mirrors and felt power rush through him as he watched a long line of his reflections stare at him. He felt an overwhelming desire to reach for the stone, knowing instinctively that it held great power.

Outside, Voldemort hissed out in frustration as the two blue creatures ran around Quirrell in circles. With a cry, he wrenched himself from his host, and followed after the Potter brat through the mirror.

Inside, Harry's hand hovered over the stone.

Outside, Quirrell blasted curse after curse at the tiny blue blurs that darted here and there, shouting little cries, "Nae king, nae quin, nae laird."

Inside, Voldemort instantly felt stronger, his body solidifying as the power reflected back upon himself. He reached with one claw for the boy, intent on murder.

Outside, a stray blast shattered the Mirror of Erised into a million pieces.

Inside, both Harry and Voldemort turned as the mirrors curved around them, and then multiplying, until it was a room full of mirrors still multiplying upon itself. Hundreds of Harries and Voldemorts stared back at them.

Outside, Quirrell fell on his knees in horror.

Inside, the stone in the middle winked out. The two combatants stared at each other.

Outside, Severus Snape rushed in, wand held out in front of him.

Inside, Harry ran through the mirrors, his heart thudding. The power rushed through him, raising the hairs on his arms. He tried to think.

Outside, Snape stunned Quirrell even as he watched two six-inch high, blue covered men jump on the other man's head. He bound the man tight with another spell.

Inside, Voldemort smiled down at his new body. A million other Voldemorts smiled back.

Outside, Snape watched the shards of glass, terrified, as they showed Harry Potter running past himself, and a million other selves.

Inside, Harry finally stopped, wheezing for breath. He tried to get his mind under control, pushing the power away as mere distractions. But still it came, crowding all his senses.

Outside, Hobble and Killem jumped through the shards and disappeared.

Inside, Voldemort laughed and laughed. He didn't need the stone anymore.

Outside, Snape cursed in frustration as he tried to piece together the shards.

Inside, Hobble and Killem shouted at the Harries reflected back at them. "Quick, who's real, laddie?"

Harry slid down against one mirror. Was he hearing voices? "I am, I'm real. I'm real," he chanted. He closed his eyes, pushing away the other Harries that tried to get inside him. He gripped the wand forgotten in his hand, feeling it bite into his palm. "I'm real."

He faced the intense pressure inside his head. It was false power, bent in upon itself and therefore useless. It wasn't real. The real world was out there.

He felt himself slide out the mirror he was leaning against. He half-heard Hobble and Killem jump out after him before he lost consciousness.

Snape gasped as the glass quivered and slammed together once, expelling the body of Harry Potter and the two blue creatures before it fell and shattered into even tinier pieces.

He gathered the limp body, brushing off flecks of glass gently from the boy's hair and clothes, and stood up.

"So kindly explain what you are, exactly?" He addressed the two creatures who gazed back at him in curiosity from the floor.

"We're the wee free men. The boy's ours to protect, so you better not 'urt 'im," they announced.

Because Snape still looked blank, Hobble sighed and elaborated.

"We're fairies."

Severus Snape almost dropped Harry.