Fluffy was already asleep. A harp had been enchanted to play a lullaby. That meant that the thief was real and had already started their attempt to steal the stone. Which meant…
Hermione let out a breath. "We have our proof. Let's go get Professor McGonagall."
"But-" Ron stopped himself. "Blimey, you're absolutely right."
"We don't have time," Harry said, clutching his scar. "Voldemort has almost got the stone, I can feel it, we have to hurry!"
Now that was all kinds of stupid! Had Harry actually considered how he would actually stop Voldemort or Professor Snape if he actually managed to catch up to them? He and Ron were only first years, no matter how powerful they may be. But, a part of her thought... Snape was only just a half-blood while Ron was a pureblood, so maybe…
"I'll get Professor McGonagall," Hermione said hurriedly. "You two go on ahead. I'll only get in your way."
"That's not true, Hemione," said Harry desperately, reaching for her hand. "We need all three of us working together to stop Voldemort. I… I just know it."
"Hurry and get McGonagall," Ron told her, dragging Harry down the trapdoor. "If any of the traps need us to be smart we're gonna need you."
Hermione sprinted. "Someone is stealing the stone," she breathed, bursting into Professor McGonagall's office. She didn't want an argument so she skipped the part where the professor asked her for proof. "Fluffy has been put to sleep by an enchanted harp. We don't have much time professor, Ron and Harry are chasing after him."
Professor McGonagall blinked. "Yes… You're right. We mustn't dally."
Actually, come to think of it, maybe it was just a trap, the enchanted harp to lure them in. No, that was stupid. If this really was Voldemort, or Snape, there were easier ways to kill Ronald Weasley than that. Or Harry Potter, she supposed. She couldn't imagine anyone bothering to kill her.
Even so, something inside her screamed trap, trap, trap. Something was off about this situation, but she couldn't quite place it.
Maybe it was that Professor McGonagall hadn't written Dumbledore? Or that Dumbledore should very obviously have not abandoned his post for any reason when someone had been murdering unicorns in the Forbidden Forest, and he was protecting a Philosopher's Stone? Or that the third-floor corridor could be opened by a simple alohomora? Hermione shook her head. What was she even thinking?
Professor McGonagall led her through the stone's protections quickly.
"Accio key," Professor McGonagall said, summoning a key to get past the second security measure.
Why not just have a separate key? You know, like her parents did when they wanted to get into their house or drive their car. What was the purpose of having one available right next to the thing you were trying to protect? It seemed quite mad to Hermione.
McGonagall defeated an enchanted chess set.
Retina scanners? Fingerprints? Some kind of blood magic? It had taken her all of zero seconds to think of better security measures.
Trap, trap, trap Hermione's mind screamed.
McGonagall stunned a troll. And they passed through the fourth… Security measure…
Something was just… Not right about this. This wasn't how you protected something. But trap or no, they found Ron and Harry inspecting several vials of colored liquid for the fifth security measure.
"Good, you're finally here," Ron said. "I can't solve this blasted thing."
"I told you we'd need you Hermione," Harry said smugly.
"Go on," said Professor McGonagall kindly.
"You do it," Hermione said. "You already know the answer right? This isn't about proving how useful I am, this is about protecting the stone. Hurry!"
Professor McGonagall shook her head and kindly said. "I do not know the answer. This is Professor Snape's obstacle. He insisted on keeping it. You do it Miss Granger. You are the only one who can."
Obstacle? Obstacle?!
This was a trap and Professor McGonagall was in on it.
Hermione sighed, and solved a riddle which had clearly been designed just for her. Hermione gave Ron the potion for moving on ahead through the black flames.
Professor McGonagall took it from him. "I will be the one to go to the stone," McGonagall said sternly with just a tiny trace of hunger in her voice, so faint that Hermione would have missed it if she wasn't looking for it. "I will not send first year students to face He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, no matter how powerful, intelligent, or brave they may be. On that, Albus Dumbledore and I disagree."
No.
A trap. It had to be.
"She's working for Voldemort," Hermione shouted, willing the words to come out more quickly. "Get the vial back from her, destroy it, we can't let her get the stone."
Harry and Ron, the real wizards, pulled out their wands and- and- Hermione couldn't move a muscle.
Minerva McGonagall sighed, but kept her wand out, as all three first year students fell to the ground from her Full Body-Bind Curse. The professor wiped her eyes.
"I am sorry it came to this Miss Granger," the older woman said shakily. "But I… I can't say I am surprised. You are one of the most intelligent students I have ever come across... But that intelligence can be a terrible thing... I will tell you why when I return."
The older woman took a calming breath, drank the potion, and walked through the black flames. Hermione couldn't move. And then, after a few moments, she could.
The three first-years waited in uneasy silence, filled only by the crackling of magical flames.
"Blimey Hermione," said Ron finally. "Why'd you of all people tell us to attack a professor?"
"Be-because think about it. This is a trap. Why would-"
"Well of course it is," said Ron. "For You-Know-Who obviously. I mean, just look at his name. The bait is obviously meant for him. It's a shame Dumbledore's not here, but I suppose You-Know-Who'd have to be a right moron to try for the stone when he was."
Oh.
Oh no…
Then that meant, that meant that Professor McGonagall was actually-
The black flames parted once again, and Professor McGonagall's stern face brought ever so much relief to Hermione Granger. She rushed to hug her professor, she couldn't believe she'd been so foolish. "I'm sorr-"
"Harry Potter," said Professor McGonagall coldly, shaking off Hermione. "You will come with me. Dumbledore's security measure was more difficult than I anticipated. Perhaps you will help."
McGonagall supplied Harry with a vial of Professor Snape's potion.
Trap. Trap. Trap.
But she'd been wrong before. This time she kept her mouth shut, considering the possibilities. The enchanted harp. Professor McGonagall's last words. The contrived obstacles. The Philosopher's Stone. Them being able to move again. Everything she knew about Lord Voldemort and Severus Snape.
Harry and McGonagall had already walked through the flames when the answer finally appeared in Hermione's head.
She stifled a sob… It… It wouldn't have changed anything. Con-confronting him, whoever he was, would have been stupid.
"Ron," Hermione whispered. "What do you suppose happened to the thief? Where did they go?"
Ron thought about it for a moment. Then his eyes widened. "You don't think?" Hermione nodded. "But then… No… There's got to be some other explanation."
Maybe… Hermione certainly hoped so. But the simplest explanation was often the correct one.
She shared her plan with Ron and went to work. Hermione took the vials of wine, and threw them into the purple flames for the return corridor. She drank the return vial. That would cut off the thief's escape route. But if the thief really was Voldemort then that wouldn't be much of an obstacle would it? No, he would obviously be able to overpower Snape's flames with his magic. Afterall, Hermione thought bitterly, Snape was a half-blood and Lord Voldemort was the purest blooded wizard in history. It didn't matter how hard Snape worked, how smart he was, Voldemort would always be able to overpower him.
Hermione distributed the poison in the vials equally. Now, all the vials were poisoned. She'd offer it to McGonagall, and if McGonagall hesitated, Hermione would drink from the vial herself. She'd walk through the flames to prove it was the correct one. And then she'd die of poisoning, but with any luck, she'd be able to take McGonagall out with her.
Hermione waited, sick to her stomach. Ron gave her a sad smile. They held hands as they waited for McGonagall to return. Hermione was probably going to have to drink poison. Ron was probably going to have to fight Lord Voldemort himself. They were both almost certainly going to die.
The fire started to crackle. Harry and McGonagall crossed through the flames easily. A… A red stone was in McGonagall's hand.
Oh no. What had they done?
Harry shivered, and reached for McGonagall's hand, but the professor didn't take it. Hermione pushed the return potion onto McGonagall. "Hurry," Hermione said urgently. "We need to get out of here before Professor Snape arrives to steal the stone." She took a sip of the poison and offered the vial to McGonagall. "Hurry!"
McGonagall chuckled. "Yes, yes, you're quite right." She took the vial of poison and put it on the table. "We have to hurry, before Albus Dumbledore returns." McGonagall tapped the vial with the stone. There was a flash of light, and he brought the elixir to his lips.
Hermione froze. She had to do something.
Ron tackled McGonagall before he could drink the elixir of life. The stone clattered to Hermione. She tossed it over the purple flames.
"What are you guys doing?" Harry asked.
"That isn't Professor McGonagall Harry," Ron said. "That's the thief."
McGonagall smiled tightly. "Very good Mister Weasley, although I am quite certain that it was Miss Granger's deduction. Now, Miss Granger, how did I do it?"
"Transfiguration," Hermione said. Polyjuice would have required preparation, and McGonagall had been an unexpected addition to whoever had planned all this. "You transfigured yourself to look like her, Voldemort."
"Incorrect, Miss Granger." Voldemort laughed coldly. His face began to bubble, boiling like water, rearranging itself into the shape of Professor Quirrell. "Although if you had guessed that dear Quirrell was a metamorphmagus I would have thought less of you. It is virtually impossible for a muggleborn to possess such a useful ability. Given your information, it was a flawless deduction. But alas, you were missing critical information, as is often the case in the real world."
Ron and Harry charged him, but were frozen with a flick of Voldemort's wrist. Just a flick of his wrist. He hadn't been holding a wand. And Ron's magical power, so much greater than Hermione's- the best in their entire class, would never compare to Voldemort's. She could feel its potency, practically taste it, even though the curse hadn't even been placed on her.
Why?
Why not her as well?
Was it because she was already poisoned, or was it… Was it because she wasn't a real witch?
"You are a clever girl Miss Granger, you have deduced the answer." Voldemort laughed cruelly. "You all fit into your roles so neatly. The hero, bravely attempting to foil my dastardly plots. The pureblood, protecting his toys. And the mudblood. Trying to poison me. Too afraid to attempt a curse. Too scared to even move. She deduced who I was, Lord Voldemort, Wizard Hitler. And she made no move to stop me. She left that for the pureblood. For the professor. Always for someone better. Very wise to acknowledge your own weakness…" Voldemort's terrible laughter echoed through the corridor. "No. Not wise. That is not the word I am looking for. I am more honest than your friends, girl. It is pathetic. You are pathetic."
Voldemort unwound his turbin. "Do you know why I despise your kind, more than any other?" And on the back of Quirrell's head, a terrible face emerged, pushing out against the skin as if it was pressed against saran wrap. It was bone white, with a serpentine nose, and violet-slitted eyes that bore into Hermione. "Your kind is a parasite. A tick, latched onto our force the rest of us to feel sorry for you, to protect you, to teach you in the same classes as real witches and wizards. But you've never created any spells, never discovered any potions, you have no magic to offer others, and you've made no effort to gain it for yourself. Have you?"
Hermione trembled. Why… Why was he even saying these things to her? Shouldn't he… Shouldn't he care more about Harry? About the Boy Who Lived?
"She was the one who figured out who you were," Ron shouted, defending Hermione, only making her feel more pathetic.
"Yes," Voldemort agreed easily. "She is very clever. But then, so are muggles. They have all kinds of wondrous ways of doing things all on their own. Why, when I was a child I would return home from Hogwarts and find wondrous airplanes, dropping wonderful gifts, setting the sky on fire. It was all for a war orders of magnitude larger than Grindlewald's noble revolution. Unfortunately, the wrong side won, but the war- particularly how it ended- earned the muggles my respect. Perhaps you should be with them, mudblood. They are more your kind than we are. Although after I have regained my body and conquered Britain they will be dealt with as well."
Hermione's eyes widened. He couldn't mean-
"Yes. That is what I mean." Voldemort was laughing again. He threw her his wand. "Go on. Stop me. Do some magic little mudblood. Curse me! Slay me! Say the words. Avada Kedavra. Show the world that you, a pathetic, powerless, mudblood defeated the greatest wizard who ever lived."
Voldemort met her eyes. And suddenly she was him. Casting the killing curse again and again. Just for the fun of it. She knew the secret to it, you had to mean it. It couldn't be for self-defense, it wasn't about hatred or vengeance, to cast the curse you simply had to believe that the world would be better if the victim was dead. And with a gasp she returned to her body, the burning poison eating away at her. She knew how to cast the spell. The wand movement, the pronunciation, the mind set. Voldemort had drilled mastery of all three into her in mere moments. With a flick of her wrist, she could end the life of a man who had just threatened nuclear annihilation on the entire muggle world.
This wasn't a moral question. If she had a gun she'd kill Hitler. But then, if she had a gun she'd kill Voldemort as well. But she didn't have a gun. Hermione Granger only had a stupid, useless wand. If only… If only she was a real witch!
She couldn't even move.
"Like this," Voldemort said patiently. "He held out his hand, and the philosopher's stone flew over the purple fire."
"No," Harry screamed. His eyes flashed violet, and he broke free from Voldemort's binding curse and leapt onto that terrible face, burning it somehow. "I won't let you hurt her anymore!"
Voldemort began to scream. Ron joined Harry in the pummelling.
And as two brave wizards became heroes, Hermione could only watch, Quirell's wand held uselessly in her hand as if it were a toy. And she couldn't help but think, bitterly, that of course Harry Potter got a massive magical boost when he absolutely needed it. He was the hero. She was just a little girl who'd been invited to Hogwarts by the misplaced sympathy of actual witches and wizards. She didn't belong here.
And then, finally the burning poison churning in her gut finally claimed her consciousness.
When she awoke, she learned that Dumbledore had awarded 100 well earned points to Harry and Ron. And to the most brilliant first year student Hogwarts had ever seen, for uncovering Lord Voldemort's plot to steal the Philosopher's Stone and taking the necessary steps to foil it, he had awarded 100 points to her as well. But the night had not been finished. Somberly, he had explained to the students that sometimes sacrifices had to be made. For the greater good. He awarded 10 points to Gryfindor. He declined to attribute the points to a name.
Gryfindor had erupted in cheers, or so Hermione was told, for they had won the House Cup for the first time in twenty years. But the cheers evaporated as Albus Dumbledore continued his speech. Crying.
Afterwards, Hermione was told all sorts of lies.
It's not your fault.
You did the responsible thing.
Blame Lord Voldemort.
So against all protests, Hermione let Draco Malfoy visit her in the hospital ward. Her enemies at least, she could trust to tell her the truth.
"The plot you concocted was quite brilliant, Granger. I'll be writing to Father, to tell him that House Malfoy may want you as our next strategist should the Dark Lord ever rise again." Draco Malfoy smirked, and patted her back, his condescension practically dropping off him. "Neither I, nor any other Slytherin will ever bother you again. That's a promise Granger. Afterall, even the Dark Lord had trouble killing members of the Order of the Phoenix. She was instrumental, you know, in the last war. She was Dumbledore's right hand man. Even I respected her power. There were many plots, but even the Dark Lord failed where you succeeded. You killed that mettling Professor McGonagall, and even got awarded points for it. If I did that, even Father couldn't keep me out of azkaban. But then, I'm not a pathetic mudblood am I? Oh, here comes the Weasley, off to protect his little pet, to tell her it's not really her fault. But we both know don't we? That your kind shouldn't be allowed here."
Hermione thought back to what Lord Voldemort had told her. She thought about what could have caused Doctor Quirell to turn to such an evil man.
Could Lord Voldemort really make her magic stronger?
For just a second she was tempted. But then she remembered who had murdered Professor McGonagall, and it wasn't Draco Malfoy.
Albus Dumbledore was her next visitor.
"I apologize Miss Granger," the old man said, his eyes ancient and sad. "I was careless. I have gotten into the bad habit of holding onto secrets too tightly. I should have told Minerva my plans. It had just not occurred to me… That you… That you would go to her for help. It never occurred to me that a witch would do such a thing."
"We were facing Voldemort," Hermione squeaked. "What else was I supposed to do?"
Dumbledore eyed her warily. He rapped his long fingers on her bedside. "I did not want to include your obstacles, you know? But Severus insisted. Do you understand what I am telling you, Hermione?"
No she didn't understand! But… But she had realized her mistake. Her terrible, obvious mistake. "I should have gotten the other professors." Hermione sobbed. "Professor Snape. Professor Flitwick. Professor Sprout. Everyone! Lord Voldemort is the most powerful wizard in the world, why did I think sending a single professor against him was a good idea? Do you… Is there a PA system at Hogwarts? Is there a way for the professors to communicate quickly?"
Dumbledore blinked. "Yes… I suppose a coalition of professors may have also been a viable solution… The thought would have never occurred to me… But... It would have been obvious to Tom."
"It didn't occur to you?" Hermione asked shrilly. Some of Dumbledore's words were finally beginning to click in her head. "And what do you mean, my obstacles? It's almost like… Like…" No, it wasn't like Dumbledore had set up the third floor corridor as an obstacle course for Harry, Ron, and her to get through. That's exactly what he'd done. She had been right, it had all been a trap, and not just for Voldemort! "You sent Harry with Hagrid to retrieve the stone on purpose! You meant for us to go after it? But that's… That's… We're only first years!
"It was a test," Dumbledore murmured softly. "For Harry. For the companions he has chosen. Someday he will have to face Lord Voldemort, and he will need the support of his friends. Harry and Ron passed their tests while you…" Dumbledore shook his head. "I suppose your actions had a certain kind of logic to it. I am not thinking clearly right now. You did quite well."
"Why must Harry face Lord Voldemort?" Hermione asked angrily. "That's stupid. That isn't how things work in real life. One man didn't take down Hitler, the entire allied army did!"
"An understandable mistake," Dumbledore said, and there was steel in his voice. "But on the wizarding side… One man did take down Grindlewald. You have to understand Hermione, that wizards and muggles are different. If you cannot comprehend this, then there will be many more Professor Mcgonagalls."
Hermione's eyes watered. The last thing she'd ever said to Professor McGonagall was that she thought she was working for Voldemort. She had made a mistake, but it… It wasn't… "What should I have done then? Let Harry face Voldemort alone?" And then Hermione realized that yes, that would have been better. But it was all so improbable. Who could have predicted that Harry would have secret powers that only activated against Voldemort! That was just- it was something for fairytales, not real life! "I just… How did you know that Voldemort's magic wouldn't work on him? Or-"
Hermione ground to a halt. The simplest explanations were often the correct one. Dumbledore had admitted to desiring Harry Potter, an ordinary first year student, to face off against the most powerful Dark Lord on the planet. What if Dumbledore hadn't known that Harry would manifest secret super powers against Voldemort? It seemed unlikely that he could have known, because how could anyone? But if that was true then he'd have been sending Harry to die. Why?
Why did Albus Dumbledore want to murder Harry Potter?
Whatever the case, he was much more powerful than her. She'd play along with whatever Dumbledore wanted, and take her suspicions to Ron and Harry. Perhaps there was a reasonable explanation, but it couldn't hurt to keep an eye out.
"I see that hiding things from you would be an extraordinarily bad idea," Dumbledore said, sighing. "Yes, I did know that Voldemort would be unable to kill Harry Potter on that night. There was ancient, powerful magic protecting Harry… I will arrange occlumency lessons for you with Severus. Do not worry, with magics of the mind, power is mostly irrelevant. Once you can protect your mind, I will share why I must act as I do. But you must promise me this: you will not share your suspicions of me with Harry Potter nor will you share the secrets about him which I reveal to you once you can truly keep them."
Hermione nodded. What other choice did she have?
XOXOXOX
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Author's Note: Thanks for reading! And now onto the reviews!
Anon - Maybe eventually. But Hermione's gonna have a lot of trouble dating in this world because of her lack of magic.
Luiz4200 - That's an interesting idea! I reread The Prisoner of Azkaban and I'm tempted to free Bellatrix as well, so maybe that could be a way to make it happen. Azkaban was an incredibly frustrating read, as Harry kept on doing things that should have gotten him killed, Hermione would tell on him to try and stop him from getting killed, and Harry would get angry about it. I also forgot that Crookshanks could talk. Thanks for the review!