CHAPTER ELEVEN
Exams week was absolutely horrific. For one thing, it was absolutely sweltering, especially in the large classroom where they did their written tests. For another, they were too busy studying to do anything about the Stone situation. They were given special new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an AntiCheating spell, and the feathers were already ragged from the heat and sweaty hands. There were practical exams too, and Dudley dreaded each one. Professor Flitwick called them in one by one to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk - Dudley managed something that looked more like the can-can than anything else, complete with high kicks from the pineapple's fronds. Professor McGonagall had them turn a mouse into a snuffbox, giving points for style and taking them for leftover mouse bits. Dudley's snuffbox had a tail, in the end, but it was at least painted to match the rest of it. Snape had them brewing Forgetfulness potions, and breathed down their necks the whole while, taking vicious satisfaction in every failure. And all throughout, Dudley's vision swam, showing flashes of memory and hallucination as the heat and stress put him through his paces. Several times, during a practical, he would have to sit down and have some water and breathe for a moment before he could continue.
By the time they took their last exam - History of Magic - Dudley was utterly convinced he'd failed everything, with a possible exception of Potions. Fortunately, he wasn't too concerned. The problem of Voldemort was much more prominent in his mind. Harry was having nightmares again, worse now, and the two of them were climbing the walls in frustration, because their four companions didn't seem terribly concerned. They were scared, certainly, but Voldemort just didn't seem real to them.
Dudley flung down his quill with a sigh as Professor Binns called the end of the exam, and everyone rolled up their parchment with a strong sense of relief. They had a whole week of freedom until their exam results came out, and now, at least, if something happened, then it would happen when they had nothing else to worry about.
"That was far easier than I thought it would be," Hermione remarked as the six of them fled the castle in favor of the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."
"Oh, 'Mione," Hannah sighed, "you'd probably have read about it for fun anyway."
They wandered down to the lake and collapsed in a heap under the tree to watch the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan tickle the tentacles of the giant squid basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily. "Cheer up Harry, we've a week til we find out how bad we've done."
Harry, rubbing his forehead, burst out angrily, "I just wish I knew why my scar's been hurting! It's done it all week - and it's never done it so often before!"
Hannah propped herself up on her elbows, grass sticking out of her hair, which was done up in a loose bun to keep it off her neck. "Go to Madam Pomfrey," she suggested.
"I'm not ill," said Harry, sighing in frustration. "I think - I think it's a warning, that danger's coming, maybe. And I keep feeling like I'm forgetting something important."
Ron, too hot to get worked up, opened his mouth, but Dudley beat him to it. "You're probably right. Maybe it's something to do with the Stone?"
They all considered it with varying degrees of interest until Neville said, hesitantly, "Don't you think it's odd that what Hagrid wants most is a dragon, and someone just happens to turn up with one?"
Everyone went deathly still. They shared a glance. And immediately, they lunged to their feet and pelted towards Hagrid's hut, black school robes fluttering behind them like the wings of blackbirds.
Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house, trousers and sleeves rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl. "Hullo!" he called, smiling broadly as they neared him. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"
"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.
"No, sorry, we're in a hurry," he breathed, and flapped a hand at Neville.
Looking a bit ill at being put on the spot, Neville took a deep breath of his own and said in a rush, "Hagrid, the night you won Norbert, what did the stranger you played with look like?"
"Dunno, he wouldn't take his cloak off," said Hagrid casually, and added, at their stunned expressions, "Yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head - the pub down in the village - it's not that unusual. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? Never saw his face, he kept his hood up."
Hannah picked up a pea pod and absently began to shred it. "Did you talk to him about Hogwarts at all?"
"Mighta come up." Hagrid frowned as he tried to remember.
None of them were surprised, in the end, to learn that Hagrid had revealed the secret to this stranger. As soon as Hagrid said, "-jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go right off ter sleep-" Harry was off like a shot. Most of the others followed, but Dudley stayed behind to ask one final question.
"Hagrid," he said, "what did this stranger sound like?"
The giant was taken aback by this question, and said, "Well, I dunno, sort of reedy-"
A burst of color and sound appeared at Dudley's left, to his amazement. It was as if someone had torn a hole in the world, and there inside was the pub, though everything seemed muffled, like there was thick glass between the image and the real world. Inside was Hagrid, or another Hagrid anyway, and next to him was a thin, reedy man in a dark cloak. He kept his hood down, and though Dudley couldn't understand what was being said, he heard the voice for himself. It didn't sound a thing like Snape, but it was familiar enough to make him suspect that the man wasn't using a spell on his voice. The image of Hagrid was completely sloshed, and it was a little startling when the real Hagrid said, "Yeh all right, Dudley?"
He snapped his head up and smiled grimly. "Yeah - thanks Hagrid." The image had gone, and Dudley was a little relieved. He wasn't sure if it had been real at all, or if it had only been his imagination, and didn't particularly want to find out. He turned and legged it back to the castle in search of the others.
They were huddled on the steps when he found them, whispering furiously, and they immediately caught him up on what had happened. "I can't believe you told McGonagall," he groused when they had finished describing the encounter. "Listen, if Dumbledore's gone, now of all times, don't you think he's setting a trap for our thief? When else would anyone dare try and get to the Stone?"
"One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape, then," whispered Harry urgently. "Hermione, you'd better do that - wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves."
"Why me?"
"Isn't it obvious? You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick," said Ron, and put on a high voice, batting his eyelashes. "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong...'"
"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, elbowing him in the ribs, but she agreed to play lookout.
"And the rest of us had better hang around the third-floor corridor," Harry told the others. "Play a game of cards or something."
But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door to Fluffy than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper. "I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from each of you!"
They trudged away, Hannah saying under her breath, "At least Hermione's still out there." No sooner had the words left her mouth, though, than they rounded the corner and found themselves swept along to the library by a breathless Hermione.
"I'm so sorry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and he went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."
They huddled in an alcove, feeling the weight of despair. Finally, Harry squared his shoulders and said, "Well, that's it then, isn't it?" The others stared at him. He was shaking and his eyes were glittering, and there was a very stubborn expression on his face. "I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."
"You're mad!" Neville burst out. "You'll get yourself expelled, if Snape doesn't kill you!"
"So what!" Harry shouted, and they hushed him. He went on in a quieter voice, "Don't you get it? If Snape gets the Stone, he'll bring Voldemort back and there won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it or turn into some - some Dark Arts school! House points don't matter anymore - d'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if one of our Houses wins the Cup? Even if I get caught and sent home it'll only be putting off dying til later, because I'll never go to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing any of you says is going to stop me."
He glared at them.
Surprisingly, Neville was the first to recover himself. He reached out and gripped one of Harry's hands, to the smaller boy's surprise. "I'm going with you," he said, face grim despite the tremor in his voice.
"I- what?" said Harry, surprised.
"You don't seriously think we'd let you go alone, do you?" Ron asked, snorting, and Hannah scoffed, tossing her head.
"Harry, you can't just charge in without backup," she said, eyes gleaming.
"I'm in too," said Hermione, and held up a hand to stifle Harry's protests about them risking their own expulsion. "You said it yourself, if we fail, there won't be a Hogwarts," she pointed out. "And anyway, Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."
Dudley cleared his throat to get their attention, and when they looked at him, said, "The question now is how to get all six of us to the corridor without notice. The cloak can cover three of us, but that's the limit."
Hannah hummed thoughtfully, then said, "Hufflepuff is closer to the corridor than Gryffindor, and there's more stuff to hide behind. We shouldn't have any problem sneaking around. The stairs are the most dangerous bit, I think."
"We can wait in one of the classrooms near the corridor, but do we have anything to make music with?" Dudley asked.
After a moment's thought, Harry said, "Hagrid got me a flute for Christmas, I can bring that."
"Can you play?" Neville asked curiously.
"No," Harry admitted, "but it's worth a try."
"If it doesn't work, I can sing," Hannah volunteered. "I'm not very good, but I've put my baby cousins to sleep that way before."
"Great," said Ron. "Hope Fluffy isn't picky about his music."
The Hufflepuff common room seemed to take a million years to empty, but finally, the coast was clear, and Hannah, the quickest of the three, darted out first to make sure the coast was clear. She returned a few minutes later and gave them the okay, and the trio crept out into the dark corridor.
It was slow going to the third floor corridor, but they didn't encounter any problems until they got to the final staircase. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip, and the Hufflepuffs ducked into a dark corner, wondering how they'd get past it. They still hadn't found a solution five minutes later, when quiet shuffling alerted them to their approaching friends. A hand stuck out of the cloak and waved at them to stay put, then disappeared, and the shuffling continued up the stairs.
Peeves swiveled round as they climbed. "Who's there?" Dudley heard him call. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie? Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."
There was a moment of silence, and then someone said in a hoarse whisper, "Peeves, the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."
Peeves uttered a squeak, then babbled, "So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir. My mistake, my mistake - I didn't see you - of course I didn't, you're invisible - forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."
"I have business here, Peeves," the speaker croaked. "Stay away from this place tonight."
"I will, sir, I most certainly will. Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."
After a few long moments, the Hufflepuffs heard Hermione whisper, "It's clear, come on!" and they hurried up the stairs, keeping to the shadows just in case.
A few seconds later, the group turned the corner and found themselves outside the corridor - and found the door already ajar.
"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly in disgust, folding the cloak. "Snape's already got past Fluffy."
They all considered the door, but before Harry could offer them the chance to go back, Hannah crept towards it and peeked inside. Immediately, there was a loud growling, and she launched without hesitation into a soft, crooning lullaby. The growls subsided, and she beckoned them on.
"No need for the flute, I guess," Hermione said as they watched the dog slump to the ground, fast asleep. "Keep it up, Hannah." The blond girl nodded.
"Looks like Snape used a harp," Ron murmured. "I bet the dog wakes up the minute you stop."
They crept to the trapdoor, stepping gingerly over the dog's legs. Hannah faltered as she finished the song and tried desperately for another one, and the dog growled, beginning to stir. Hastily, she sang out some warbly nonsense, and Fluffy settled. Sweat was beginning to form on the girl's brow. Harry and Ron pulled on the ring of the heavy trapdoor, which swung open with hardly a squeak.
"What can you see?" Dudley asked, not really daring to take his eyes off Fluffy's sleeping form. He prayed he wouldn't have to take over for Hannah, who was sounding a little strained - he was practically tone deaf.
"Nothing - just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop," Ron reported.
"Nothing to it, then," said Harry, and braced himself, then lowered himself through the trapdoor. When he was still hanging on with his fingertips, he looked up at them and said, "One of us needs to go for help, just in case this goes badly."
"I'll go," Hannah sang, struggling to keep tune. "I'm the fastest, and I need to stay up here to sing. Just get the Stone!"
"Right," said Harry, and let go. It seemed a long, long time until they heard him call faintly, "It's okay! It's a soft landing, you can jump!"
Ron climbed through, followed by Hermione, and Dudley ushered Neville in before turning to Hannah, whose voice was faltering. "Run right out and tell the portraits before you go find a teacher, they'll get the message passed around more quickly," he said, and patted her shoulder when she nodded. "Good luck, be careful." He carefully jumped through, sucking in a breath as cold, damp air rushed past him. He was just starting to wonder just how good an idea this was when he found himself entering a bright light and hitting something with a muffled thump. His head bounced hard off of something, making him yelp.
He looked up at Hermione, blinking watering eyes against the bluebell flame flickering on her wand, and she offered him a hand. "Hurry and get up, that's a Devil's Snare," she said. "Neville figured it out as soon as he landed."
Dudley gratefully got to his feet, and the group made their way down the stone passageway that was the only way forward. The hall sloped downward, and all they could hear aside from their footsteps was the gentle trickling of water somewhere nearby. "I hope Hannah made it out okay," Hermione murmured.
"I'm sure she's fine," Harry started to say, but Ron shushed them.
"Can you hear that?" he whispered, and they all listened carefully. A soft rustling and clinking was echoing down the passage towards them, and if they squinted, they could see light ahead.
They cautiously walked to the end of the passageway and found themselves in a brightly lit chamber with a ceiling that arched high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling about the room, and on the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.
"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.
But they didn't, and when the door proved to be very thoroughly locked, they turned their attention to the birds. After a few moments, Harry cried, "They're keys! I bet you anything we have to catch the key to the door!"
Ron turned to study the lock. "Then we probably need a big, old-fashioned one - I bet it's silver like the handle."
They found broomsticks tucked to one side of the room, and Neville and Dudley elected to remain by the door, since neither was very good at flying. They watched their friends anxiously as the trio lifted into the air, half-expecting them to get swarmed. But the keys evaded every attempt to grab them, darted and diving, as if they didn't particularly care about the children. Harry wasn't the youngest Seeker in a century for nothing, though. After a tense minute of searching, he suddenly sped forward, twisting around as he chased a key with a damaged wing. It sped toward the wall, and Harry pinned it with a sickening crunch.
He and the other Gryffindors returned to the ground, setting their brooms aside, and as they stepped toward the door, there was a loud, angry buzzing. Dudley looked up and groaned. "Now they swarm," he said.
"Unlock the door, quick!" Hermione cried, and Harry scrabbled at the lock before finally slotting the key in and jerking the door open. They hurried through, pulling the door shut behind them, and heard the sound of hundreds of keys hammering against the wood. They shared a look, then turned to face the room they'd entered.
It was dark, but as the five of them stepped forward, the room lit up, and revealed an amazing sight. They stood on the edge of an enormous chessboard behind the black chessmen, which towered over them and seemed to be carved from stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces, which were faceless.
"Now what?" Neville whispered.
"Isn't it obvious?" Ron said, sounding far too excited. "We've got to play our way across." He stared thoughtfully, then added, "I think we've got to be chessmen." He walked up to a black knight and put out a hand to touch the knight's horse. The stone came to life immediately, and the horse pawed the ground with a horrible grinding noise. The knight turned its head to look down at Ron. "Do we - er - have to join you to get across?" The knight nodded.
"Right," said Ron. "We'll have to take the places of five of the pieces, then. Er, don't be offended or anything, but none of you are all that good at chess-"
"It's fine," said Dudley quickly. "Just tell us what to do."
Ron put Harry in place of one of the bishops, and decided that Hermione would be a castle. Neville became the other bishop, and Dudley was appointed the other castle. As for himself, Ron opted to become a knight. The pieces in question turned and walked off the board, and the children stepped nervously up to take their place. "White always plays first," Ron told them, and sure enough, one of the white pawns moved forward.
He began to direct the black pieces, which moved in eerie silence wherever he directed them. Dudley's heart thumped in his chest as he wondered for the first time if the others had done this before, in the timeline he knew. What a thing, he thought, watching Harry move four squares diagonally, for a bunch of eleven year olds to do. The first real shock of the game came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown. Dudley's aching head throbbed in sympathy.
"Had to let it happen," said Ron, looking slightly ill, and directed Hermione to take a white bishop. Every time one of their pieces was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Ron moved about the board like a fury, only just noticing in time when the others were in danger, but even he couldn't be everywhere at once. Neville was dealt a horrible blow to the head by a white castle, and Hermione screamed as he crumpled to the floor. She stayed on her square at a gesture from Ron, who was shaking visibly.
"He's all right," called Harry, who was passed by the castle as it dragged the other boy off the board. "I think he's just knocked out." And the game continued.
It seemed like a lifetime later when Dudley took out a pawn and watched it crawl away, grimacing at the noise of stone on stone, then turned to look at his companions as Harry and Hermione shouted, "No!"
Nothing seemed to have happened yet, but Ron looked grim, and directly in his path was the white queen. "That's chess!" he snapped. "You've got to make some sacrifices! If I move forward, she'll take me, which leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"
The others hesitated, but Dudley called, "If you're sure it's the only way, Ron, then you've gotta do it. We're running out of time!"
"Don't hang around once you've won!" Ron instructed them, and stepped forward. The white queen pounced, striking him hard with her stone arm, and he fell to the floor. Hermione made a strangled noise as he was dragged away, and then Harry moved three spaces to the left. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet in defeat.
The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. "I'll stay with them," Dudley shouted, already making for the unconscious boys. "Go ahead, and be careful!"
Harry and Hermione nodded jerkily, then pushed the door open and let it slam behind them.
Exhaling heavily, Dudley crouched beside Ron and Neville and fished in his pockets. He'd made a rough first aid kit earlier in the day and jammed it into the silver manticore box, and now he pulled it out. It wasn't much - mostly bandages made from strips of old t-shirt, and a basic pain salve he'd nicked from an older student's stock, but he thought it might be enough for the time being. He cleaned them up, working slowly and carefully, and had just finished dabbing the salve on the cut on Ron's forehead when he heard the door open again.
Hermione emerged, looking tearful, and said, "There wasn't enough potion, Harry had to go alone-"
"Hold on," Dudley said, and made quick work of bandaging the cut. "Tell me everything."
She described the logic puzzle in the next room, of having to figure out the right potions to let them go through or come back, and at the end of it, Dudley felt ill. "There's nothing you could've done," he said, patting her hand, "we'll just have to wait until help gets here. Help me finish this, will you?"
They'd just decided they could do no more to help when the other door slammed open, and teachers poured into the room. Dudley leapt to his feet, seeing Dumbledore and Snape at the forefront. "Harry's inside!" he said, running over to them. "Neville and Ron - I think they're all right, but the chessmen did a number on them."
"I'll go in and get Harry," Dumbledore said firmly, and swept towards the door. The other teachers rushed to tend to Hermione, Ron, and Neville, assuming that Dudley would follow. He didn't, instead hurrying after the Headmaster.
Dumbledore didn't seem terribly surprised by this, and said only, "Did this happen the first time around?"
"I've no idea," Dudley confessed, "but it wouldn't surprise me."
They passed through the logic room, Dumbledore deactivating it with a single muttered word, freezing the black flames that barred their passage, and stepped through them. Dudley did the same, and experienced a strange tickling sensation before arriving in the chamber beyond.
The first thing he saw was Harry, sprawled on the ground, and the second thing was Quirrel, who was hunched over him and screaming. Dumbledore shot forward and wrenched the man away from Harry, and Dudley saw, with horror, that Quirrel's turban was missing, and there was a terrible face on the back of his head. He flattened himself against the wall, knowing instinctively that it was in his best interests to keep out of range. Strange burns covered Quirrel's skin, in the shape of small hands, and as he watched, the rest of Quirrel burst into sudden flame. Dudley darted forward as Quirrel crumbled, shrieking, and bent over Harry. His cousin was fine - in better shape than Ron and Neville, at least, though he too was unconscious - and Dudley heaved a sigh of relief. He noticed something red and glittering sticking out of Harry's pocket, and pulled it free.
It was the Stone, it had to be. It thrummed in his hand, sending out ripples of power, and Dudley jerked, feeling as if a hook had dug into the back of his neck and yanked. The stone glittered, and across its surface flickered images. Dudley gasped as the feeling in his neck lessened, and lifted his head to find himself in a familiar bedroom.
"I'm scared, daddy," said the small girl on the bed, her eyes large. She huddled tearfully in her blankets, clutching a stuffed bear, and as he tried to crawl towards her, the floor fell out from under him, and he was flying over London, the wind whipping his hair, and watching as colorful explosions lit the night sky. They were not fireworks, and left no fire in their wake, only a horrible yawning darkness. As Dudley fell, he felt something tip out of his hand, and there was a scarlet flicker against the dark.