It did not make sense to me that a trap-door on the third floor led to the basement, and I didn't want to have to rely on questionable Hogwarts geography to make it work. So I have the entire 3rd floor right-hand corridor sealed off and split up, with each room containing a puzzle. Also, did anyone notice how convenient it was that all the puzzles could be solved by a 1st year wizard? I mean, mine are solved by first-years as well, but at least they have to try.
It bothered me that there was no puzzle for knowing about potions, just knowing logic.
Also a slight discrepancy The curse against the DADA teacher meant no teacher lasted longer than a year, yet it was mentioned that Quirrell had taught for awhile before travelling to find Voldemort. I attempted to mend the timeline to correct this.
It was also hard to find a way for Harry to defeat V/Q. Having him black out was unacceptable, since that is the kind of thing I am trying to correct with this story. When I first started writing this, I was mad at JKR for copping out with stuff like that. But, again, I am learning why she wrote the way she did. This way is HARD!
Every professor at Hogwarts had put an obstacle en route to the Stone. Some were easy. Hermione remembered how to kill Professor Sprout's Devil's snare, Harry caught the key that Professor Flitwick had charmed to fly around and hide, Ron won the game of Wizard Chess that McGonagall had thought up, and Harry and Hermione both helped to identify the ten stars off of the star chart. Unfortunately, not all the puzzles were designed to be solved by first-year students. Although Hermione had never taken Arithmancy, she knew enough about numbers to give the puzzle a go and gave a very educated guess which was correct. Charlie Weasley had studied Runes, and Ron remembered enough to get them through that room. Harry and Hermione both knew who the first President of the United States was, and were amazed that Ron did not. Quirrell's troll had already been knocked unconscious, which made all three happy as they didn't think they could have defeated it.
One room asked which of the three Alchemical goals had not been discovered: turning items into gold, finding immortality, or finding the universal solvent. Ron also, with his magical background, knew that Alchemists had discovered how to turn items into gold (fairly obvious since they were searching for the Philosopher's Stone) and knew they had found the universal solvent. Harry and Hermione argued he was wrong because the Philosopher's Stone provided immortality, but Ron insisted he was correct and it turned out he was.
The last challenge was a room full of potions. Hermione knew that the Ice Potion that allowed them to pass through the flames was golden colored and filled with tiny bubbles. However, there was only enough for one person to drink. They assumed that it magically refilled itself after Quirrell and Snape had each completed the challenge, so one person had to go forward while the others waited for the bottle to be full again. After some arguing, Harry convinced them that he should go ahead. He had already faced Voldemort, after all. He also gave them the cloak, as he did not know if the magical fire would destroy it. He drank the potion, and stepped into the next room.
There, Harry saw Snape and Quirrell, as he had expected. He did not expect that Snape would be unconscious on the floor.
"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Quirrell. "Is everyone at Hogwarts going to follow me down here?"
"Follow you? Snape? I thought he was in league with you!"
"No, Mr. Potter. Professor Snape is nothing more than a pawn of Dumbledore's. We dispatched him easily." Quirrell waved a hand, and ropes appeared from nowhere and bound Harry tightly.
"We?" Harry struggled, but there was no way he would free himself from the ropes.
"My master and I, of course".
"He's here right now?" Harry freaked out. He looked everywhere in the room. He saw Quirrell, Snape unconscious, and a large mirror. No Dark Lords.
"He is always with me. I met him while travelling around the world. He has shown me the way the world truly works. Everyone knows Albus has the stone, and it was a simple matter for me to get hired on as the Defense teacher to get at it. Once we realized you would be here, Mr. Potter, it was an opportunity beyond our wildest dreams. Imagine, the Dark Lord at full power inside Hogwarts, with Harry Potter at his mercy! Now I have to figure out Albus' puzzle and get the stone—"
"Use the boy"
This voice seemed to come from Quirrell, yet it was not his voice, and his lips did not move.
"Yes, of course!" This actually did come from Quirrell. He removed the ropes from Harry with a wave of his hand. "Come over here, Mr. Potter."
Harry obliged. Maybe he could figure out the puzzle and get the stone himself. Quirrell made him stand in front of the mirror. Harry looked in it, and spun around in amazement.
"What is it, boy?"
"I see an entire room of people."
"No, concentrate on the stone. Ask it where the stone is"
Harry looked at the mirror again. Indeed, it looked as if the entire room behind him was filled with people. When he looked closer, he recognized some of them from the photos Dumbledore had given him. This was Harry's family! He could not understand how the mirror worked, but he liked it. If his life were not in danger, he would stand here all day and watch his family. But his life was in danger, so—
"Where is the Stone?"
His father, who was standing next to him in the image, held up a blood-red stone in his hand. His father winked, then placed the stone in Harry's pocket. Harry felt the weight. The stone was actually there! Who knows what magic Dumbledore used to accomplish this, but somehow the mirror had given him the stone.
"Uh, I see myself using the stone to make piles of gold", said Harry.
"He lies!" said the strange not-Quirrell voice. "Let me speak to him!"
"But master—"
"Silence! Obey my commands!"
Quirrell started to unwrap the turban from his head. He turned his back to Harry. Harry saw the most vile thing he could ever even imagine. There was a face with red eyes and a nose that was more like a snake than like a human. The creature was talking to him, taunting him. It spoke of the Stone, of Harry's parents, and of Dumbledore, but Harry was too terrified to answer or even to think clearly. He saw, as if in blazing red letters in the sky, his brain telling him "RUN!"
Harry ran. The voice yelled, and Quirrell followed. Harry felt Quirrell grab his wrist, and to Harry's surprise, both he and Quirrell screamed in terror. Harry's scar ached when Quirrell had touched him, but Quirrell's hands were full of blisters and bleeding. He raised his hand to curse Harry, and Harry realized his only chance was to use this odd power he had over Quirrell. So Harry braced for the pain, and stuck his hand in Quirrell's face, blinding him with the white pustules that broke out wherever their skin met. His other hand grabbed Quirrell's throat, which choked him and left him speechless. Harry's vision went white with pain.
Unable to see or speak, Quirrell was unable to effectively attack Harry. He was gargling incoherently and blindly casting spells of green light in random directions, hoping to hit Harry. Once Harry shook off the searing pain, he looked for cover in the room. All he could see was the mirror, so he ran to put it between Quirrell and himself. As he did, however, he ran behind Quirrell and the face saw him.
"He is behind the mirror! Turn around, kill him!"
Harry, looking from behind the mirror, saw Quirrell turn. He walked toward the mirror. His face was a disfigured mass of pus and blood, but Harry swore he saw a smile. In another few steps, Quirrell would be at the mirror and fire the green curse at Harry. He needed to run, or—
Harry had been bullied all his life. Dudley and his gang took pleasure in making his life miserable, and his aunt and uncle encouraged it by never punishing Dudley when Harry told them of his actions. So Harry was forced to fight back instead. Of course, a small skinny boy fighting a group of Rugby forwards didn't stand much of a chance, but Harry had still learned to make the best of a bad situation.
Harry braced himself between the mirror and the wall. He pushed out as hard as he could and rocked the mirror one, two, three times. On the third try, the mirror finally was pushed far enough so that it did not rock back. It fell forward in agonizing slow-motion just as Quirrell reached it. Harry heard Quirrell's cries as the mirror crashed down on him. And then there was silence.
