Thank you for your reviews, everyone. Iris did not need to follow Harry and the others down the trapdoor as the Stone had been removed months before. She still wanted to make absolutely certain they survived though, instead of leaving it up to Harry's luck and the prophesy. Harry's her temporal twin and the others are her friends; she's not as willing to use others as Dumbledore. As for how she fled once Dumbledore was indisposed, Featherweight charm and jumping. The rest are explained in the chapter below.
Important Notice: part of this chapter is out of the Philosopher's Stone (the section in italics)
Disclaimer: Did the Weasleys visit or even say anything to Ron after the Philosopher's Stone fiasco, when they frantically visited and fussed over Ginny for a similarly potentially lethal situation? If not, I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to JK Rowling as this story is entirely free and non-profit.
xxxx
The first thing Harry saw when he woke up was the colour white. White ceiling, white walls, what might have been white cabinets, though he couldn't be certain without his glasses. For a brief, dreadful moment he thought he was back in aunt Petunia's kitchen, and must have passed out from exhaustion during his chores. Then his mind woke up fully and he remembered he was a wizard... and that it had been years since he'd last done too many chores with too little food. Relief flooded in welcome waves; he must be in Hogwarts, probably in the infirmary. Then fear; where was Voldemort? What had happened to the Stone?
"Ah, Harry! You're awake." A jovial old voice said and he turned around to find the tall, silver-bearded, magenta-robed figure of the Headmaster approaching.
"Sir! Quirrel! The Stone! What..."
"Calm down Harry." The Headmaster said gently. "Quite a few things have come to pass since you were last awake. Professor Quirrel does not have the Philosopher's Stone, and you and your friends are safe now... from physical or magical danger that is. I dare say you violated quite a few school regulations during your midnight excursion."
"Professor McGonagal did not believe us, sir." Harry rushed to explain. "And since you were gone..."
"Ah yes. Voldemort did come up with a rather ingenious distraction." The old wizard's voice was sad and serious all of a sudden. "So much so that we all thought it was the real attack. After all, he did try to have you and your friends killed in the exact same manner."
"You mean, that monster Professor Snape killed came back?" Harry said, rather alarmed.
"Not the same one my boy, but many others like it. And while we adults were indisposed protecting the villagers of Hogsmeade from them, Voldemort and his servants went after the Stone." He smiled down at Harry so widely that even without his glasses Harry could hardly miss it. "But as luck would have it, you and your friends managed to delay him long enough for us to return."
"And the Stone? Quirrel?"
"I see you are persistent." Professor Dumbledore said kindly, letting him know he didn't mind. "Alas, Professor Quirrel chose to share his body and his life with someone that cared not at all for either. When Voldemort retreated poor Quirinus was left too weak, too damaged to survive. Like most who fall to darkness, Voldemort has no more love for his loyal and devoted servants than he does for anyone else, for love is the one thing he cannot truly understand." The old wizard gave Harry a moment to think about that, before continuing. "As for the Stone, it was lost during the fight between Voldemort and myself... probably for the best."
"Lost?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend — Nicolas Flamel —"
"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."
"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"
"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die." Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face. "To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."
Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.
"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking…sir — even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who —"
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"
"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share…not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me…things I want to know the truth about.…"
"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. And I would like to ask you a few things myself."
"Well…Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"
Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time. "Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day…put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older…I know you hate to hear this…when you are ready, you will know." And Harry knew it would be no good to argue.
"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"
"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign…to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."
Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak — do you know who sent it to me?"
"Ah — your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things…your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."
"And there's something else…"
"Fire away."
"Who ended the fight between Quirrel and myself, sir?" Harry asked earnestly. "Was it you? Was it Professor Snape?"
"Ah, Harry, now that is one question I'd like an answer to as well." Dumbledore said thoughtfully, his face darkening.
"Sir?" Harry asked again when several minutes passed with neither of them speaking, the ancient wizard obviously deep in thought.
"Voldemort did not escape the castle as a wraith, Harry." The Headmaster said solemnly. "He was in possession of another victim, one physically and magically strong enough to host him and duel me, if not in equal terms, then well enough to escape."
"What?" Harry's blood froze in his veins at the revelation. Someone, somewhere, now had Lord Voldemort at the back of their head... and free rein of magical Britain! Quirrel had lasted for a whole year like that; Harry could not even begin to imagine what Voldemort would get up to in that time, and didn't really want to. "But sir, if that person was there, without me seeing them... why did they just Stun me? Why not kill me instead?"
"An interesting question." Dumbledore frowned. "Perhaps so soon after his first victim was burned by your touch, Voldemort did not want to brave your mother's protection once again. He did have Quirrel try to kill you physically instead of magically after all." Harry could feel the Headmaster's stare on him... it was rather uncomfortable. "Harry, how did you know this other wizard stunned you?"
"I... do not know." The young Gryffindor tried to remember with all his might, but the end of his fight with Quirrell was very blurry in his memories. "I thought I saw a red light... the exact shade of red as the Stunning Spell. But maybe I remembered wrong..."
"No my boy, you are exactly correct." Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Someone did cast a Stunning Spell, but not at you. The residue of such magic was found on Quirrell himself, while you were found under powerful mind magic... the effects of which we're not entirely certain of."
"Oh." Harry tried to think things through, but his head hurt... and the end of the fight refused to make sense.
"An interesting mystery, is it not?" Dumbledore seemed to agree with him. "If I may ask, my boy, where did you learn about the Stunning Spell?"
"Iris taught us." Harry blurted, then blushed at his lack of discretion. After all, the unofficial Slytherin-Gryffindor dueling club was not exactly allowed by the school rules. "I mean, she's been tutoring Neville, Ron, Hermione, and I since almost the beginning of the year." Better not to mention the other Slytherins, or his private lessons with Iris before they both arrived at the school.
"Indeed?" Dumbledore once again sounded quite delighted. "It would seem Miss Black has been quite industrious of late. She is a friend of yours, then?"
"Yes, Professor." Harry said eagerly, seeing as the old wizard did not intend to question him further on what exactly those 'tutoring sessions' included. "I mean, she's nice, and very smart, and we're related too!"
"Yes, the Black family has ties to almost every major Noble House in Britain and several in France and Germany as well." The Headmaster's tone had changed once again, though Harry couldn't tell if it was to the better. "Does Miss Black treat you and your friends well then?"
"Of course!" Harry said indignantly, but not entirely truthfully. Iris often was rather blunt and overbearing with... pretty much everyone, as far as he'd seen. But she was also caring, and understanding, and every time she pushed the rest of them she did it for their own good. "Though she likes to tease Ron too much by calling him cousin, and annoys Hermione to no end by pointing out how wizards and logic don't mix."
"I see." The Headmaster paused again, and just when the silence was beginning to become uncomfortable he went on in a much more serious tone. "I regret to inform you, Harry, that your friend Iris was attacked at the same night you went after the Philosopher's Stone... and she's yet to recover."
"What?!" Harry almost jumped off his bed, but a wave of dizziness convinced him that would be a bad idea. "Professor what happened? Is she..."
"She is out of danger, my boy, but her recovery will take weeks still. We believe that... one of Voldemort's unwitting victims attacked her. There were remnants of powerful dark magic on her, though not enough to identify the spell used. Madam Pomfrey believes only time and rest will help her... potions don't seem to be having any effect."
"Is she here, sir? Can I see her?" The knowledge that Iris had been hurt by Quirrell, or even Voldemort himself, weighed heavily on the young wizard. Could it have been avoided if only Harry had shared his suspicions about the Stone, Voldemort, the entire series of events? Was Iris' predicament his fault for listening to Ron and keeping her in the dark after everything she and the Black family had done for him? Maybe... maybe he'd let Gryffindor prejudice against Slytherin and the House of Black influence him against his cousin in the past year and if that was the outcome... he didn't know if Iris would ever forgive him.
"You still need to rest, Harry - Madam Pomfrey's orders." The old wizard smiled at him. "But I can't see why you couldn't visit Miss Black afterwards. She might have even recovered enough to wake up by then so all your friends could visit her."
"Thank you, sir." Harry said without paying much attention to anything else but his own darkening thoughts. The veritable mountain of sweets and gifts from his many admirers lay forgotten by his bedside...
xxxx
The gates of Hogwarts were enchanted to repel many dangers, from rampaging dark creatures, to would-be Dark Lords. But that day came an invasion unlike any other... and the castle's gates proved insufficient.
"Deprimo!"
The Tunnelling Charm was primarily used for demolitions of magical buildings and openings of new mineshafts and tunnels, as its name implied. Even when cast by inexperienced witches and wizards it could easily tear down a wizarding home. Backed by the power, determination, and more than a bit of anger of a witch of Cassiopeia Black's power and experience, it could tear through any defences except Hogwarts' own when put in lock-down by the Headmaster. Not seeing the current state of the Black Heiress as that important however, Albus Dumbledore had neglected to fortify the defences to their fullest.
"Deletrius!"
The Disintegration Spell destroyed magical constructs. As the winged boar statues flanking the gate came to life and multiple secondary defensive spells activated, its sufficiently powerful iteration by Callidora Longbottom nee Black reduced them all to dust. Apparently, she found her great-grandson risking his life in a trap set by the Headmaster for the Dark Lord impressive for a first-year student... but not at all amusing as far as said Headmaster's actions were concerned.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The metal of the gate itself was goblin-forged and further enchanted to make it nigh-indestructible... except there were curses that ignored all but the most powerful magical defences. And with the physical form of the gate being rather flimsy, it was easily blasted apart when Cedrella Weasley nee Black demonstrated a proper and legal use of the Killing Curse against inanimate targets. Having one of her beloved great-grandchildren nearly being killed by his own Head of House via a giant chess set had been a nasty shock. Having to hear about it from her Black cousin instead of the faculty contacting the family had been illuminating as it had been infuriating.
The three furious witches marched through the Hogwarts grounds, immobilized Hagrid the Gamekeeper, stuck the annoying squib caretaker whose name they'd never bothered to learn up a wall like the bug he was, and walked straight towards the staff room. Fortunately for the castle's continued integrity, the targets of their ire were present. Unfortunately for Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagal, and Severus Snape, the targets of their ire were themselves.
The "discussion" that followed was the most intriguing, alarming, and entertaining the rest of the faculty had ever listened to, and Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout would be requesting access to the Hogwarts Pensieve multiple times in the future just to relive that one event. After being threatened with an army of inferi, an army of semi-sentient killer plants, Rita Skeeter, and the Auror office (in that order), Albus Dumbledore wisely admitted defeat and acquiesced to all demands, reasonable or otherwise.
After all, Reason, like History, was decided on by the victors.
xxxx
"That was a total, absolute mess." Severus Snape grumbled in the safety of the Headmaster's office. The Black women had left hours ago - but maybe that was only what they wanted them to think. Maybe they were lulling them all into a false sense of security before enchanting the Forbidden Forest to uproot itself, march up to the castle, and tear it to the ground. It wasn't as if that had not happened before; a famous Quidditch player had paid some dark wizards to do the same to the stadium after his team lost a match in the World Cup, and it had taken thousands of wizards over seven hours to fight their way free of the mess.
"A bit of an overreaction, but we can hardly blame them for it." Dumbledore said tiredly. "Their families youngest children were in mortal peril and it was our fault."
"You can't be serious, Headmaster!" The Potions Master said incredulously. "Those... those women threatened to tear my soul apart with the weight of my past crimes, feed the pieces one by one to a Dementor, and keep the last piece in buried their vault for as long as the House of Black endured."
"I doubt they were being serious, Severus." The infuriatingly calm old man admonished him, and Snape gritted his teeth. Contrary to his nominal patron's naive beliefs, Cassiopeia Black was more than capable and willing to carry out her threat... especially with her little brat still in the hospital wing.
"The Black girl has yet to recover, Headmaster." He reminded him. Dumbledore knew, of course, but perhaps pointing out the obvious might make him take the whole situation a bit more seriously... though Severus doubted it. "We still haven't identified the dark magic used to hurt her. All we can do is keep her unconscious during her recovery so she does not lose her mind to the pain." Pain strong enough to occasionally wake her even from the coma induced by the Draught of Living Death, something Severus had never seen before. He had no idea what the Black girl was experiencing, and he really, really, did not want to.
"That is probably what Tom had in mind when he attacked her." The old man belaboured the obvious once again. "As revenge perhaps..."
"Revenge?" Snape sneered. "Black is a veritable menace for a witch her age, but I doubt the Dark Lord would find her more than an annoyance."
"Against me, Severus, not the girl." Dumbledore walked to his Pensieve and started adding silvery tufts of memories to it with his wand. "I gave my old student a little parting gift during our duel. He is now using the Blacks to indirectly return the favour."
"Why would he do that?" He must have been missing something, for the entire situation made no sense. Dumbledore and his blasted secrets! "He had the Stone, and a strong, healthy host. Why make a detour to the Slytherin dormitories instead of walking out victorious?"
"Because he had neither." Dumbledore explained, prodding the not-quite-liquid in the Pensieve until it formed a clear image. Snape hissed in recognition... and newfound respect for the old sorcerer. "As you can see, I ensured Tom's host would fail him only minutes after his retreat. Certainly not enough time to brew the Elixir of Life or put any other plan into motion. And without a physical body, he could not hold on to the Stone either... which reminds me, Severus. Did you find anything in the Slytherin Dormitories or the castle grounds?"
"No signs of a corpse or a discarded Philosopher's Stone, if that's what you're asking." He was still in shock, his sarcasm not up to his usual standards. He'd never expected Albus Dumbledore to ever use dark magic... though in hindsight he shouldn't have. He had relied on Blood Magic to ensure the safety of the Potter brat, after all.
"Then he Apparated away before his host died." Dumbledore stated. "Which means he knows where the Stone is now while we do not. As soon as he finds another wizard to possess, he'll recover it and return."
"Those willing to be possessed do not grow on trees." Snape countered. "We probably have some time."
"Far less than we once did, I'm afraid." Dumbledore said, head shaking. "The Order will need to be informed. As for you, Severus, you know what I am going to ask. If you're willing... if you're able..."
"I am."
He wasn't. But what choice did he have?