Chapter Twenty Four: Into the Abyss

Hermione looked up as Malcolm came into the common room. "What happened?"

"It's my scar. It keeps hurting. I'm just happy that I managed to get through that last exam."

"Is that why you took so long?" Hermione couldn't help grinning. "What's Ron's excuse?"

"It's not funny. My scar hurt before, but never like this. It's constant. At least it's not getting any worse." Malcolm sat down next to Hermione. "Ron went off to find Professor Dumbledore. On our way back we realized something."

"About the stone?"

"About Fluffy. Thanks to us, everyone knows how to get past him. Remember Hagrid's remark. About how singing stirs him up but he'll calm down if you just play something."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "He was upset over Fluffy getting excited. But I don't remember him saying that. I know Seamus Finnigan mentioned that he heard . . ."

"Yeah, and if he heard, then others heard. Like Snape."

Ron walked in and quickly joined his friends. "I ran into McGonagall. I told her I was looking for Dumbledore, and then I made the mistake of telling her why. That we knew about the Philosopher's Stone."

It's called the Sorcerer's Stone, but I'm tired of correcting them.

"What did she say?"

"That we're too nosey. That she's not afraid of taking house points away from us. That if we don't . . ."

"We get the picture," Hermione said. "But what about Dumbledore?"

"He's left. He had to go to the Ministry for some reason. He received an important owl."

Hermione scowled. "I bet Snape planned this. We have to stop him."

"How?" Malcolm asked. "McGonagall's on to us. And Snape would love to catch us following him."

"We could watch the third floor corridor," Ron suggested. "They we could catch him in the act."

Hermione shook her head. "And he could catch us. I'm sure he'd love an excuse to expel all of us."

Malcolm smiled. "We can have someone else watch, and she can let us know. Then we can follow him."

"Brilliant," Ron remarked. "But you said she. Who is this girl?"

"You've met her. Her name's Lily."

The three went to the Owlery without any problem. When they ran into McGonagall, Malcolm held up a parchment. He was sending a letter to his family, to let them know that he finished his exams.

And when she mentioned Ron's earlier remarks, I even told her we trusted her judgement. We were just worried. I must be getting good. She believed me.

Malcolm entered the Owlery, his eyes lighting up when he spied the Snowy Owl that Hagrid had given him. Hermione and Ron waited patiently as he petted the owl and cooed over her. Then Malcolm explained what he wanted her to do, and Lily nipped at his ear to let him know she understood. The owl flew out the open window and settled unnoticed on a windowsill on the third floor.

"She's very smart," Hermione noted, and Malcolm smiled at the comment.

"My mom said the same thing. She even likes the name I gave her."

An owl hooted in Malcolm's dorm room.

"Lily?" Malcolm whispered and received another hoot in response. "Thanks. I'll have something for you tomorrow." Lily ruffled her feathers at him and flew out the window.

"Ron," Malcolm whispered, and woke his friend. Ron nodded, and both dressed quickly. They slipped out of the dorm and down to the common room. Hermione was there, slumped over a book. She awoke when she heard them coming down the stairs.

"He went to the third floor?"

Malcolm nodded. "We'll have to hurry. I've got my invisibility cloak just in case, but I don't think we should use it unless we have to."

"Good thinking," Hermione said. "Let's go."

"No," Neville Longbottom said from behind.

Ron turned around. "Neville, don't try and stop us."

"You're sneaking out again. You could get into trouble."

"We have to, Neville," Malcolm told him.

"I'm not stupid, you know." Neville tried to look brave. "I know what you're doing." He pulled out a small flute. "I know you forgot about getting past the dog."

Malcolm grinned. "Neville, you are the most amazing person in the world."

Do you believe this guy? He's afraid of almost everything. He can barely cast any spell. And he's willing to take a chance like this.

The four made their way to the third floor. They entered the corridor and stopped. The dog was there, and a harp. Malcolm felt a tinge of anger that the trapdoor was open, and that Snape had already made his way through. He also felt a tinge of fear that the dog was growling at them. Before he could say something, a soft note hit the air. Neville was playing the flute. It wasn't a melody. But he was playing the notes clearly as he went up and down the scale. The dog, Fluffy, grinned at the sound and settled down. Sooner than they expected, Fluffy was asleep.

Malcolm set his cloak next to Neville, pantomiming that he should use it if need be. Neville nodded in acknowledgment, and the others crept past the dog to the open trapdoor. There were no handholds, and it was so dark that he couldn't see anything. He would have to take a chance. He showed Ron and Hermione his crossed fingers and jumped into the opening.

"I hit something soft," Malcolm called. "It's safe to jump."

Ron came down next and landed with a thud, Hermione shortly followed. Above them, they heard the faint sound of the flute. Almost at once the sound ended. It was followed by a short slamming noise and a dog's growling.

"Neville's safe," Hermione said appreciatively. "It's a good thing you left him your cloak."

"Yeah," Ron added. "He can hide from Filch. Unless he actually remembers the password this time."

"So where are we," Hermione asked.

"I'll make a light," Malcolm offered.

"Make it a bright one," Ron suggested.

"Sure. LUMOS SOLARIS"

As the bright light filled the room they were in, they saw they were standing in the middle of a giant plant. All three noticed that the plant had already wrapped tendrils around their legs without any of them realizing it. However, the bright light from Malcolm's wand was forcing the plant to shrink away from them and release them in the process. Without hesitation, they ran to the safety of the doorway, opened it and stepped into the next chamber.

"Malcolm," Hermione said in relief. "Your middle name has to be luck."

"Ron did ask for a bright light."

That plant was scary. Hermione said it was called Devil's Snare. But this next room was a big chamber filled with flying keys. It took us a while, but by using the broomsticks together, we trapped the right key. I told Hermione that it was like a computer game. Each rooms has its different task. Hermione walked into the next room and said I was right. Then she asked me if I could play chess.

"This is my task," Ron said happily as he looked at the large chessboard. "If there's one thing I know best, it's wizards' chess."

He had Malcolm take the bishop's place, and Hermione take the rook's place. Ron became the knight, his favorite piece. He called out the moves and everything was going well until . . .

What's that crazy jerk doing?

"Ron," Malcolm said with concern.

"You see it? Malcolm, after I sacrifice myself, Check the king."

Hermione was horrified. "Ron, don't."

"'Mione, Do You Want To Stop Him? This is the only way."

He did it. The Queen literally threw him off the chessboard. I knew he was hurt, but he told us to keep going.

As Malcolm and Hermione walked to the next chamber, he turned to her. "Hermione, I'm scared."

Hermione actually sighed in relief. "Thank you. I thought it was only me. I've been trying to act brave but . . . I never thought of any of us getting hurt."

Malcolm smiled. "Then let's get this over with." He opened the next door and the smell hit them. It was a troll, unconscious. Neither of them said anything but quickly went to the next chamber.

Flames blocked the doorway behind them and the doorway in front of them. In the middle of the room was a table with seven bottles of various sizes. And a parchment.

"Nice poem," Malcolm said as he read the clues. "Okay, two are poison, and three might as well be. Have you ever tasted nettle wine?"

Hermione snorted. "Well, we need to find the one bottle with the potion to let us go forward."

"Well, it can't be the bottles at either end. That leaves five."

"And it can't be these two bottles," Hermione said. "This should be the one that we can use to go back and that makes . . ."

". . . this one the potion to go forward."

"No, it's the small bottle next to it. You didn't read the last clue."

Malcolm smirked. "Show-off."

"And you thought YOU knew everything."

"I know one thing," Malcolm said smugly. "There's only enough in this bottle for one person." He and Hermione looked at each other briefly without saying anything.

Dang. It's going to be me.

"Hermione, take this potion, the one that lets you go back. Use the brooms to get Ron out of here, then get help. I'm going to need it."

Hermione gave Malcolm a strange look. One he had never seen before. He found out later it was admiration. Then she ruined the moment.

"What if he isn't alone? What if Voldemort's with him?"

"Then you can go and I'll help Ron." When Hermione smirked, Malcolm added, "you said it yourself. Luck is my middle name. I'll tell you at breakfast what happened."

Before his fear could take hold of him, Malcolm drank the potion and walked through the wall of flame.

"Professor Quirrell?"

The DADA Professor was standing in the middle of the room, in front of the Mirror of Erised. He turned around in mild surprise when he heard Malcolm's voice.

"It would be you," he said without any hint of a stutter.

Malcolm couldn't mask his surprise. "It was you all along. All that stuff about being frightened was just an act."

Quirrell smirked. "And all this time you thought it was Snape. Didn't you?"

"But . . . Hermione saw him jinxing my broom?"

"That was me, you little idiot. Snape was actually trying to save you by muttering the counter curse. And despite that I still almost succeeded." The Professor smiled insincerely. "Maybe it's for the best, after all. Do you know what's inside this mirror?"

"Yeah. The Sorcerer's Stone."

Quirrell laughed, but it wasn't a friendly laugh. "I'll forgive you for that mistake. It must be because you're American. It is the Philosopher's Stone."

"I read it in a book. It said the Sorcerer's . . ."

"MALCOLM! That is not the point. The point is that it's inside the mirror." Quirrell glared at the boy. "There is something about you, Malcolm, that reminds me of another American I met. He was so obnoxious I changed my first name because it was the same as his."

"You know Uncle Harry? That's why Mom changed my name."

Quirrell rolled his eyes. "The two of you would be related."

"Only by marriage," Malcolm answered. "He married my mom's sister."

"We should be thankful for small favors." Quirrell's voice became friendly. "Now that you're here, why don't you take a look. Maybe you can figure out how to get the stone. I would have no problem sharing it. Think about it. You could live as long as you wanted, and you would have all the money you would ever need."

Malcolm walked up to the mirror and looked in. He saw himself holding the stone.

The only way I'd want that stone is to keep it away from that jerk.

Malcolm's reflection smiled at him and put the stone in his pocket. At that moment, Malcolm felt a lump in his own pocket.

Uh oh. How did that happen? If Quirrell finds out, I've got the stone he'll kill me.

And that's not an exaggeration.

"What do you see, boy?"

"Uh, I see myself. I'm. Uh, holding the stone and smirking at myself. I think I think it's funny."

"He lies," a third voice said.

Malcolm looked around but didn't see anyone.

"I will talk to him, Quirrell."

"But, Master?"

"Reveal me."

Professor Quirrell removed his turban and turned around. Malcolm stepped back in fright as he saw a face looking at him.

"You know who I am." It was a statement.

I wish Mom and Dad were here. What can I do?

Malcolm pulled his eyes away from the figure of Voldemort. They chanced to look in the mirror. A man with black hair was motioning for him to be strong. The woman with green eyes gave him a look that spoke courage. Behind them stood Hal and Lois. His dad was clearly frightened but holding his ground. His mom simply looked at him. A look he had seen many times before.

Yeah, I know what to do. It's what I have to do.

"You look like my Uncle Harry," Malcolm said with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "But I have a higher opinion of him."

Voldemort's red eyes flared with anger. "He has the stone. Get it from him."

Malcolm began to run but Quirrell cast a spell. Malcolm's leg wobbled, refusing to hold him. He fell hard to the ground. Strong hands threw him onto his back and Quirrell was there.

"I'll do this the easy way," he sneered. He knelt down, his knee going hard into Malcolm's chest. His hands grabbed Malcolm's throat and began to squeeze.

The boy flailed his arms. He couldn't breathe. As black spots began to appear, Malcolm tried to push against Quirrell's face. As a final effort, it was weak and futile.

But Quirrell was screaming. His hands let go of Malcolm's throat. Somehow, they were burned and blistered, as was his face where Malcolm had touched him. He began to stand up but Malcolm lunged at him with strength that came from somewhere. Malcolm had grabbed his hair to hold on, but had to let go when the hair burst into flame.

Malcolm was struck one final blow and fell back to the floor of the chamber. The last thing he remembered hearing was Voldemort shouting, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" It was shouted loud enough to be heard over Quirrell's screams.

Malcolm opened his eyes to something shining above him. But the world was all a blur. He reached up with a great effort and discovered that the shining object was light reflected off the lenses of a pair of glasses. He slowly put them on, and the world sprang into focus.

"Good afternoon, Malcolm."

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"The prodigal son awakens at last."

"What happened?"

"Don't you know? You were there." There was humor in the voice.

Malcolm frowned. Then he noticed he was wearing pajamas. "The Stone. Quirrell has the Stone!"

"The Stone is safe. There is no need to worry. Do you need more rest? I can come back later."

"No, I'm fine, really." Malcolm raised his head and noticed the large pile of candy on the table near the bed.

"Gifts from your admirers," Dumbledore told him.

"Everybody knows?"

Dumbledore sat down, and he and Malcolm had a long talk. About Professor Quirrell and Nicholas Flamel. About the destruction of the Stone and about why Professor Snape hates him. All in all, it left Malcolm feeling very much surprised.

"Then you knew?" Malcolm asked. "About Professor Quirrell and . . . Voldemort."

Dumbledore smiled. "That's good, my boy. Never be afraid to say his name. And the answer is no. Had I known before, I could have saved all of us a great deal of trouble. I regret to say that Voldemort escaped, but he is in no condition to harm anyone for quite some time."

"And Quirrell?"

"Professor Quirrell, alas, did not survive his ordeal." Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Do you understand what happened, Malcolm?"

"I know he began to burn up once he touched me."

"It was the spell that your mother cast on you before she died. The one that gave you that scar."

"My mom did that?"

"Do you know how she was able to cast such a spell? She used very old magic, Malcolm. It's called love."

Dumbledore reached out his hand and brushed a tear from Malcolm's cheek. "Lily loved you very much."

"I saw them. In the mirror." The tears were running freely. "When Voldemort revealed himself, I wanted to know what my parents would want me to do."

"And you saw Lily and James." He saw Malcolm's nod and something else. "And Lois and Hal. You are doubly blessed, dear Malcolm. You have four parents, all of whom gave you love."

Albus brushed his hand against Malcolm's hair. "I think you do need some more rest. We'll talk again later."

Malcolm adjusted his glasses. "Professor, what happened to my contacts."

"It seems they were exposed to a great amount of heat. They were ruined but, amazingly, your eyes suffered no damage. Do you mind wearing the glasses? Your parents will have new lenses waiting for you. I made it a point to offer them the opportunity to inform them of what had happened."

"I never told them anything. I didn't want to scare them. Are they mad?"

I know it. They're going to make me come home. Who cares that it's great here. After all, I did almost get myself killed.

"No, they are not. We'll talk again tomorrow, before the End-of-Term feast."

"Tomorrow?" Malcolm's surprise was muted by the fact that he was in the infirmary. "Thank you, Sir. Is there anything else I should know?"

Dumbledore smiled warmly, but there was a twinkle in his eye. "Nothing that can't wait. Until tomorrow, Malcolm."