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Chapter 11

Hermione glared at her, but nodded.

"Good. After you." Rose said, unlocking the door that led to Fluffy and the trapdoor and opening it, holding it open for the others. The hinges had been oiled, and judging by the expressions on Harry, Ron and Hermione's faces they hadn't oiled them, and Rose knew she hadn't and she didn't think Crabbe and Goyle had either; someone else had oiled them for their own use. Once Harry, Ron, Hermione, Crabbe and Goyle had crept into the room, Rose followed, shutting the door behind her with the faintest of noises.

As the door closed Harry gasped, clutching his scar. At the same time, Rose's forehead burned. She sucked in her breath. Then, once again, as quickly as the pain had arrived, it was gone.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. The two nodded.

Fluffy was asleep, a large paw covering the balk of the trapdoor. A simple gold harp stood to their right, a small well-cushioned stool beside it.

"Snape must've put it in here before dinner." Ron whispered. Rose rolled her eyes but said nothing.

"Hagrid said that Fluffy goes to sleep when music's played." Hermione muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "So, it would make sense that he would fall into a deeper sleep, or at least move in his sleep when he hears music. Which means in order for us to even have a slight chance of getting Fluffy to move his paw, we have to play the harp."

"Right." Goyle grunted, stepping forward. He sneaked over to the stool and sat down.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed, but Goyle ignored him as he placed his hand to the harp strings and began to play.

The song was calming, and played softly enough that did not wake Fluffy completely, just caused him to whine and shift away from the source of the noise. As a result, his paw moved off the trapdoor and onto the stone floor. Goyle continued to play as Rose tiptoed forward and pulled at the handle of the trapdoor. The door creaked ominously as she lifted it and Fluffy stirred. In alarm, Harry pulled a small wooden flute from his pocket and blew into it, creating a high pitched whistle to accompany Goyle's now rather rapid playing. Rose gestured to the others and they slipped over to her, jumping through the trapdoor into the darkness below. Still blowing on the flute, Harry crept over to her and followed the others. After another minute Goyle leapt from the stool and darted over to Rose, jumping through the trapdoor just as the final note he had struck died away. Quickly Rose followed, allowing the trapdoor to slam shut behind her.

She landed on something soft, just as Hermione was finishing a question.

"-you learn to play the harp?"

"I'm Pureblood." Goyle replied. At her blank look he continued. "Every Pureblood child has to learn an instrument at the age of five. I just chose the harp. Dunno why, really."

"What is this stuff?!" Rose exclaimed, squirming as what looked like a thick green vine slid across her knees, blinding her legs together tightly.

Hermione glanced down at her waist and paled as she saw a vine circling it. "Devil's Snare! Everyone stop moving, the more you move the quicker it will kill you!"

"You want us to stop moving as a deadly plant tries to kill us? Wouldn't that make us easier to kill?" Rose asked, slowing her movements all the same.

"It'll think you're dead and release you." Hermione explained as she began to sink deeper into the plant. "See?" She called as she vanished from view. There was a thud. "There's a sort of cave down here." Hermione called from somewhere beneath them. "Stop moving and you'll see."

Despite her nerves screaming at her to keep moving, Rose sat as still as possible and felt the plant start to loosen its hold. She felt herself beginning to sink and looked cross-eyed at Harry as she fell through the bottom of the plant.

Having landed and stood up, Rose found herself as described by Hermione in a sort of cave. The wall to her left rounded off to form a dead end, but there was an arch in the wall to her right, forming a dark, low ceilinged tunnel. Rose leant against the wall beside Hermione and gradually Harry, Crabbe, Goyle and Ron, joined them in the cave. Then with their wand tips lit and Harry in the lead, they all set off down the tunnel.

A light chiming sound filled their ears halfway through the tunnel.

"What's that?" Ron whispered. Harry shrugged. Instinctively, they all began to walk faster, a surge of adrenaline elapsing them. They reached the end of the tunnel and stared around the room beyond.

Directly across from them stood a large set of wooden double doors adorned with an old fashioned lock. In the centre of the room an aged broomstick hovered a few inches above the ground. High in the air, seemingly the source of the chimes, were multiple almost bird like silver objects. Silver… Something popped up in Rose's memory.

"These are keys!" She exclaimed. "I heard Dumbledore mention them in a staff meeting."

"And how did you hear that?" Hermione asked, sounding suspicious. Rose chose to ignore that question as she continued.

"We have to catch the fastest one. Flitwick said the key's fastness made it more difficult to catch, which implies that it is the one that opens the door, for why would you need to catch it if it didn't?"

Harry frowned slightly. "But don't you think it's a bit too simple?"

"Oh, they'll be a catch." Rose said cheerfully. "And there's only-"

"-One way to figure it out." Harry finished. His eyes roamed over the floating keys, assessing how fast he would be able to catch them, with the talent of a born seeker. "That one." He said, pointing to a key around the middle of a huge cluster. It was almost identical to the others- its shade of silver was a touch brighter. "I'll catch it if you want."

At the other's nods, he walked over to the broom, mounted it, and kicked off from the ground.

The effect was immediate. The keys began to race around in the air, all trying to befuddle and evade capture. Harry darted around chasing the key until finally he caught it and flew to the ground. The other keys followed him and swarmed them all as they ran for the door. As Ron fitted the key in the lock, turned it and opened the door, the keys starting smacking into them, trying to stop them from passing into the next room, but to no avail. It wasn't for lack of trying, for as Hermione slammed the door shut behind her, several keys became embedded in the wood.

The moment the lock of the door clicked into place, the torch brackets aligning the walls illuminated.

"Whoa… is that…?" Rose trailed off, staring around.

"Yes." Ron grinned, his eyes gleaming. "It most certainly is a chessboard."

They stood on the border, behind the black pieces, facing the white and another set of wooden double doors. Three spaces where empty on the black side; a bishop, a castle and a knight.

Hermione stepped forward and attempted to walk between two of the pawns, but froze as the two pawns crossed their swords rather menacingly, blocking her path. "I think we might have to play our way to the door." She said.

"Why don't we just walk around the border?" Rose asked.

At her words, a jet of flame shot up in the far right hand corner of the border and quickly worked its way down the right hand side. At the same time, another flame was working its way down the left hand border. Soon, only two borders remained flame free; the one behind the white pieces, and the one Rose Harry, Ron, Crabbe and Goyle where standing on.

"That's why." Ron replied. "Okay, so we have to play to the door. There are only three spaces and six of us."

"You're the best chess player here." Rose pointed out. Everyone, bar Ron, nodded in agreement. "And you, Harry and Hermione work together very well, so I think you three should do this one." Rose finished.

"Right." Ron replied. He, Harry and Hermione took their places on the board, and once they were there Rose, Crabbe and Goyle crossed the board to the other side; now it had players, the board seemed content to let them pass.

"White goes first." Ron said. "So- Ah, yes."

A white pawn moved forward and the game began. Rose watched in awe as Ron directed the black pieces all over the board, saving Harry and Hermione from danger all the while, slowly and methodically beating his opposition. Then, Ron closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples, thinking hard. Opening his eyes, he spoke; "I have to be taken. Then Harry can checkmate the King and we've won."

"Isn't there another way?" Harry asked. "One that doesn't involve you being hit with a large sliver blade?"

"I'm afraid not." Ron shook his head. "This is the only way to win. The only way to get the stone." He rephrased as Hermione opened her mouth. "I'll be fine; McGonagall wouldn't want to kill the intruder, just stop them from reaching the stone."

Hermione nodded despite the worry in her expression.

Looking determined, Ron walked diagonally a few paces, stopped, and was instantly taken by the white side's queen. She struck him at the base of his neck and he fell with a sickening thud to the ground and remained there clearly unconscious. Pale, Harry walked forward and spoke to the white king.

"That's checkmate."

The King chucked his crown to the ground in a gesture of defeat and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay." Hermione sighed. "I'll stay here with Ron in case he comes round and is confused. You guys go on ahead.

"Sure?" Rose asked. Hermione nodded.

"Positive. Go."

"See you later." They called and walked over to the door, which clicked open as they approached.

It lead to a narrow, low ceilinged tunnel. They crept down it, taking every precaution to remain as quiet as possible; not knowing what awaited them at the other end. Near the mouth of the tunnel, Harry threw out an arm to stop them, peered around the edge and leapt back in alarm.

"Troll." He gasped. "Much, much bigger than the one on Halloween."

Crabbe and Goyle rolled their heads around and swung their arms back and forth in sync. "Any rocks?" Goyle asked. Harry nodded.

"Big ones."

"We'll be back in a moment. Seriously, don't look." Goyle called over his shoulder, as they walked into the clearing. Harry faced the other way, guessing what was about to occur. Rose peaked around the corner, and wished she hadn't as she watched Crabbe and Goyle distract the troll by making a rock hit the opposite wall; causing it to turn its back to them. Seeing it was distracted, the two boys picked up a large rock between them and flung it with all their might at the troll. The rock smashed into the troll's ankle and it fell to the ground, howling in pain. Its head smashed into the hard stone ground and the troll lay still.

"I told you not to look." Goyle said, turning round. Rose was a delicate shade of green.

"Nasty." She grimaced.

"Yeah, but we didn't really have much of a choice. If he'd seen us…"

He trailed off and gulped slightly.

Rose nodded, as Harry came around the corner. He looked from the body of the troll to Crabbe and Goyle to Rose and back again. An emotion crossed his face that Rose could not quite decipher, before he said; "well, that's Quirrell's, what about Snape's?"

"After you." Rose gestured to the door on the other side of the room. Harry led the way over to the door and pushed it open, entering the room beyond. Rose followed him, fortunately quickly, for only the end of her left shoelace was signed as a purple fire as tall almost as tall as Hagrid shot up behind her, blocking Crabbe and Goyle's path. A black flame had arose in front of the archway before them, concealing the next room. In the centre of the room stood a table with seven vials of various sizes and a sheet of parchment.

"Okay then; we'll wait here." Goyle called. Rose laughed.

"Why don't you go back to Hermione and Ron? Then we're not all spread out everywhere, we're just in two places."

"Will do."

Their heavy tread sounded, then there was silence.

"Er, Rose?" Harry asked. He had been studying the parchment intently.

"Yeah?" Rose asked, going over.

Harry handed her the parchment. "Any ideas?"

Rose read it through;

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.

Frowning, Rose considered the bottles. Three are poison… Two are nettle wine…. Two will get us where we need to be… her eyes paused the tiniest vial, then travelled on and came to a halt of a large round one. They looked vaguely familiar. Rose closed her eyes and searched her memory, until finally, she remembered.

It was earlier in the year, May, and she was leaning against the door of the kitchen, smirking slightly as the cleaner before Mrs. Smill got her come-uppance. Severus was furious, his eyes were glittering and although the words he spoke were civil, the ill-natured woman was cowering against the sink, stuttering excuses to no avail, for Rose had seen her pick up the tiny vial from beside its clear glassed round, purple-coloured liquid filled companion on the sunny window sill and throw it to the ground. Severus had heard the smash and come to investigate. The cleaner attempted to blame the break on Rose, as she had attempted to do when she broke the china figurines. But, on both occasions, Rose had been in her favourite spot; the shadows of the kitchen, drawing crude caricatures of various Muggle book characters. She had glanced up as the cleaner entered, and watched as she had picked up the clear vial with its black liquid that she had been told was sacred to Severus's family and smashed it, presumably out of spite for her being caught attempting to steal and thus breaking the china figurines. As Severus concluded the woman's dismissal, Rose had watched the black liquid run in-between the grey tiles of the kitchen floor, like dark rain filled clouds hidden in the grey, preparing for a storm…

And yet, assuredly, the black liquid was before her now, as was the purple, both encased in clear glassed vials, both looking every bit a deadly poison. What had Severus told her?

"A recent experiment, an antidote to the fire some of the more serious of petty crooks seemed so fond of spreading… The potion allows the drinker to pass through the flames unharmed… The colour of the potion reflects the colour of the flames they would protect the drinker from...The basic, orange flame I have perfected, and I am now branching out to different colours, as a precaution…"

Rose picked up the black and purple vials and showed them to Harry. "This purple will get us through the purple flames, and the black through the black flames."

"But there's only a mouthful in each."

"We'll halve it and hope for the best." Rose replied, slipping the purple filled vial into her pocket and uncorking the black, sipping it, shivering at the coldness of it. She handed the vial to Harry who drained the rest.

"Ready?" Rose asked.

"Ready." Harry replied.

Side by side, the Potter twins walked through the black flames, and into the room beyond.

They were faced by the Mirror of Erised, which stood alone in the centre of the room. As they walked towards it, Rose caught sight of herself and friends as young adults in Diagon Alley.

"Mum…Dad…" Harry murmured from beside her, staring into the glass. Rose felt another pang of jealously, and wondered; why don't I see our parents?

"Where's the stone?" She asked.

"I dun- here." Harry's tone changed abruptly, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a glittering red stone. Rose stared at it in wonder, and thought of all it could do…

"Good evening." A voice sounded from behind them.

They jumped and turned around. Standing before them, his normally twinkling blue eyes steely, was Albus Dumbledore.

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