CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: The Perfect Game and the Perfect Potion

There was only one empty spot on the board, plus a damaged piece—the knight—which Ron mounted for the game. He was by far the best chess player of the group, and seemed excited—though understandably nervous—for the challenge.

"What about my shield?" asked Ellie. "It won't work from the sidelines."

"Then we'd better hope we don't get hurt," said Ron grimly. And he began.

Ellie was truly amazed by how well Ron played. Fred and George had always been more into cards than chess, but Ron played like a total pro. He ordered the pieces around, navigating them so expertly that by the last turn, all they had lost were two pawns. On the last turn, though, Ron looked hesitant.

"There's only one way to win," he said.

Ellie glanced nervously at the twins, sensing what was coming.

"If I sacrifice myself," explained Ron, "their king will be ripe for Harry's taking. It'll be a check-mate."

"B… but…" Hermione stammered. "There must be another way, Ron!"

But he shook his head. "There isn't."

"Maybe if I sang—" Ellie started.

"You can't step onto the board," Ron interrupted, "or the whole game will be spoiled. It's the only way."

Ellie could hardly believe what she was hearing. She had seen what happened to the pieces when they were "sacrificed;" it was brutal. Ron might be able to escape the brunt of it by being atop the horse's back, but it was still risky at best. She glanced at the twins, both of whom looked extremely pale.

Ron didn't wait for a final approval. He gave the command, and beneath him, the horse began to move. Ellie squeezed Fred's arm so sharply that she was pretty sure her nails were piercing his skin, but he didn't seem to notice; his face was distant and unreadable. George's foot was tapping spastically against the ground, Hermione was biting her fingernails savagely, and Harry's head was cast downwards.

There was a crash, and Ron fell to the ground, surrounded by sharp fragments of the fallen horse.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, but Harry stopped her from moving; they were still playing, and any wrong move would make Ron's sacrifice for nothing.

Harry made his move, walking as if in a daze, until he landed in front of the king, took a deep breath, and said, "Check mate."

The king's sword clattered to the ground, and the doors to the next room opened.

They all stared in horror for several seconds before they all dashed over to Ron. He was breathing, but out cold, and there was a little too much blood for Ellie's liking.

"One of us should go back," said George. "Ask for help. We've seen enough to know that someone's come through the puzzles ahead of us, which means we were right to come down here. With any luck, we won't get into too much trouble."

Harry nodded. "You're right. You can use the broomstick to fly out of the chamber. Send word to Dumbledore first, then go to McGonagall."

George nodded, then glanced down at his fallen brother. "Should I try and take him?"

"He's just knocked out," said Hermione, fingertips pressed against Ron's neck to feel his pulse. "His pulse is steady. Just be quick—but he should be okay until help arrives."

George nodded, then glanced at Fred, looking hesitant.

"I'll be fine," Fred promised him. "Go on."

In that moment, Ellie recalled the words Fred had said to her earlier that day: You've finally done it. You've managed to split up the twins.

And now they were splitting up again.

"Come on," Fred said gently to Ellie as George headed out in the opposite direction. "We'd better get going."

In the center of the next room was a table, atop which were set a series of potions.

"Great," said Harry sarcastically. "Snape's room."

Before any of them could respond, the perimeter of the room lit up in flames, which blocked the entrance and exit entirely.

"Look," said Hermione, scanning a small poem that was scribbled out next to the potions. "It's a riddle."

Ellie tried to focus as Hermione read the riddle out loud, but it was no use; riddles had never been her strong suit. Thankfully, it didn't take Hermione long to figure it out; within a minute, she exclaimed, "I've got it!" and explained to them which potion would allow them to advance to the next room and which would send them back to the previous one.

"Hang on," said Harry, squinting at the one that was meant to move them forward. "There's only enough for a sip in here."

"What about Ellie's shield?" suggested Hermione. "Maybe, if she sang, and we grabbed on…"

Ellie cleared her throat and sang a few words of Everlong as she stepped toward the flames ahead of them. But the white light of her shield flickered and died upon impact, and she shrieked with pain, jumping back.

"Are you okay?" Fred demanded, reaching out to pull her further back.

"Yeah," she said, trying to force back the strange sort of pain that came with damage to her shield. "But I don't think my shield's quite ready for that yet."

"There's enough of the return potion for at least two of you," said Harry. "Go back and watch over Ron. Dumbledore should be here soon."

"Then wait for him," urged Hermione. "Don't risk yourself, Harry."

But he shook his head. "We can't risk that stone getting to Voldemort before Dumbledore gets here. I have to keep going."

"Then I'm going, too," said Ellie. "My shield might not work, but I can jump the flames in my dog form."

"No way," said Fred immediately. "You can't jump through fire, El. Don't be insane."

"Fred." She tried her best to sound patient, but Harry was right; they were running out of time. "I can't let Harry go there alone. I have my shield—I can help him with whatever lies ahead. I have to do this."

There was so much pain and fear in his deep, brown eyes, Ellie was sure, in that instant, that there was something more between them—something she was still too young to fully understand—something that would probably only grow as they did.

But there was no time to linger on it now, so she did the only thing she could do: she gave him one last, tight hug.

"Come on," Hermione told Fred gently once Ellie pulled away from him. She handed him the return potion. "It's time."

Ellie and Harry watched as Fred, then Hermione, disappeared back to the other side of the flames. Finally, Ellie nodded to Harry, who took the sip of his own potion, which rendered him impervious to flames. Ellie shifted into her dog form, and together, they crossed into the next room—him on foot, and her in midair.

It hurt; there was no denying it. She didn't clear the top of the flames; they singed quite a bit of her in the process. But it only lasted a second before she landed on the other side, and one, quick roll was enough to extinguish any remaining flames that had caught on her fur.

And that was when she stopped dead in her tracks, staring up in horror at the man standing in front of the Mirror of Erised.

It was Professor Quirrell.

At least Harry isn't alone this time, right? But can Ellie really be of much help when it comes to Lord Voldemort himself? Find out in the next chapter, and as always, please show your support with a review! Much love to all!