Chapter 8: The Philosopher's Stone
"We should leave. Mirrors like that can be dangerous," said Harry who was halfway out the door. The others followed him and they continued to the seventh floor to work on their sword fighting techniques.
The group of friends spent the rest of the holiday practicing and learning to fight with weapons. Term started again before they knew it and the group were back to sneaking out in the evenings again to train.
Harry was also teaching his friends some of the spells he had learnt in Narnia which wouldn't be taught at Hogwarts. Most of them were fairy spells after all.
One day a few weeks before the Easter holiday, the group of friends made their way down to visit Hagrid. They had got into the habit of visiting the gamekeeper for tea once a week, shortly after the Christmas holidays ended. As they got close to Hagrid's hut on this particular day, Draco suddenly pointed out that he had the curtains drawn.
"Lion's mane, that's odd!" exclaimed Harry. "I do hope Hagrid isn't ill."
Hermione knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" came the gruff voice of Hagrid through the door.
"It's us," replied Ron. "Is everything alright Hagrid?"
The door creaked open a crack. Each of the five first years squeezed through into Hagrid's one room cabin.
"Hagrid, what's that?" asked Neville, looking like he really hoped he was wrong about something.
"Tha's a dragon egg, tha' is," replied Hagrid rather nervously.
Ron looked at him sharply.
"How did you get a dragon egg Hagrid?"
"Won it in a card game down at the Hog's Head las' night," Hagrid told them, a touch of pride in his tone.
"You can't keep it Hagrid," Hermione pointed out. "Not only is it illegal but they breathe fire! You live in a wooden building! It would burn down really quickly." Hagrid sighed.
"I've always wanted a dragon," the large man stated.
"That's convenient," remarked Harry.
"What's convenient Harry?" asked Hermione.
"Well, Hagrid has always wanted a dragon and some bloke turns up at the pub with a dragon egg in his pocket. Hagrid, is that three-headed dog on the third floor yours?"
"How'd you know about Fluffy?"
"Fluffy?" spluttered Ron at the same time as Harry replied,
"We investigated."
"Yes, Fluffy is mine. But wha's that got to do with anything?"
"Did you talk about Fluffy with the dragon egg guy?"
"Yeah s'matter of fact I did. Told 'im if you wanna calm down Fluffy you just play 'im a bit o' music."
"What are you thinking Harry?" questioned Draco.
"I'm thinking whoever gave Hagrid that egg wanted to know how to get past Fluffy so they could get their hands on whatever that dog is guarding."
The friends stayed for tea with Hagrid and Ron managed to convince him to write to Ron's brother Charlie and see if he could send him the egg. The letter was sent before the group left Hagrid's hut.
The Easter holidays came and went. Charlie turned up one day to collect the dragon egg from Hagrid, which thankfully hadn't hatched by the time he arrived.
Towards the end of the school year there were exams which Hermione, true to form, studied like crazy for. She forces her friends to study too and ended up confiscating Ron's chess set until the exams were over.
The five young Gryffindors left their final exam and flopped down on the grass outside the school.
"Thank the lion that's over," murmured Harry sleepily watching the entrance of the school. He saw Professor Dumbledore leave the building walk over to the school gates, and as soon as he was past the wards, he apparated away.
"Where's Professor Dumbledore going?" he asked, not really expecting a response.
"He's been asked to go to the ministry on urgent business, Lord Potter," came the reply from his head of house.
That night, in the common room, the group were eating sweets and enjoying the break from studying. Harry glanced down at the chocolate frog card he held in his hand. It was Dumbledore's card and Harry noticed the name Nicolas Flamel on it as well. The boy-who-lived racked his brain, sure that the name was familiar to him. Of course! He had heard it in his history of magic lessons back in Narnia. Nicolas Flamel was the name of the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone.
A cold certainty swept over the young lord.
"I think Fluffy's guarding the Philosopher's Stone and I think someone intends to steal it tonight. I have to stop them."
"You mean, we have to stop them," responded Ron. Harry looked around at his friends and saw the same determination mirrored on each of their faces.
"Let's go then." Harry cast the spell that made light go through them rather than reflect off them and they made their way cautiously out of the common room.
"How are we going to get past the dog?"
"We'll have to sing." So sing they did. Fluffy lay down and went to sleep. Hermione and Draco levitated his paws off the trap door and Ron and Neville opened it. Harry was first to jump and was surprised to find a plant cushioning his fall.
"This is Devil's Snare," Neville told them when he had jumped himself. "It will slowly crush us but it hates heat and light."
"Right," nodded Hermione and she cast a charm to create the bluebell flames that had become her speciality. The plant released the friends and shrank back from the fire.
The five continued down a passage until they reached a locked door. Winged keys flew above their heads. A broomstick lay on the floor next to the door. One fairy duplication spell later, the five friends flew about the room looking for the right key. Ron spotted one with a crushed wing.
"I guess we're not the first ones here then," commented Draco.
Instead of trying to grab the key, the group made a game of sending it from one to another, gradually pushing downwards until Harry managed to crush it against the floor. The group dismounted. Harry picked up the key and unlocked the door. This room held a chess set. A giant, human sized chess set.
"I think we have to play across the room," stated Hermione.
"Ron, you're the best of us at chess. You better take the lead on this one."
So Ron took the lead and managed to checkmate the other king in less than ten moves. The group went into the next room.
The troll they had defeated at Halloween lay unconscious on the floor.
"What a stench," complained Draco.
"At least we don't have to fight it again," was Neville's commented.
The next room held a table covered in bottles with potions and a poem. As soon as the group enter the room, fire sprang up in both doorways. Hermione picked up the poem and read it through muttering to herself and pointing to the bottles.
"This one will get us into the next room," she declared finally, holding up the smallest of the bottles. Everyone looked at the bottle she held. It only contained enough potion for one person. The spell that had given them extra broomsticks soon fixed that.
Professor Quirrel had his back to the five and was looking in the mirror they'd spotted over Christmas.
"How does this thing work?" exclaimed the professor in exasperation.
"Use the Potter boy," a high cold voice issued out from under Quirrel's turban.
Harry wasn't the sort of person to stand around and let other's use him to do their dirty work. He drew his sword, and his friends mimicked the motion, glad that Harry had insisted they carry the swords they had chosen with them at all times. Quirrel clearly wasn't expecting to be attacked by five first years with swords, one of whom was clearly much more experienced than the others. Even with the strange voice issuing instructions, the five quickly overpowered the professor.
They were just debating what they ought to do with Quirrel when someone else entered the room. It was Professor Dumbledore. The headmaster looked rather confused by the scene.
"Would somebody care to explain what's going on here?" he asked.
