It felt like someone was driving a spike through her head with a hammer, splitting her skull open and knocking against the inside. Lights seemed to flash in front of her eyes, pulsing against the darkened canopy of her bed. It wasn't legilimency and she fumbled for her crown on her nightstand, overextending slightly and falling out of bed with a crash. Her hangings tore loudly enough to wake the other girls and suddenly their confused voices were clashing with the cacophony already in her head. She struggled free, clinging to her crown and jammed it onto her head as she hauled herself up using the handles on her dresser.
The pain didn't fade, so she hadn't been cursed... but if it wasn't a curse... the third floor corridor; it must be the ward she placed over the door. Someone was trying to steal the stone.
The other girls were up, clustering around her and offering her support, but Hermione knew that the only way to stop the awful ringing was to get to the door itself. Oh, the ward was awful, she was going to kill Finnain for even suggesting it.
'Do you need Madam Pomfrey?' Pansy's hands kept reaching out and touching her.
'Where does it hurt? My mother is a healer?' Daphne put her face right in Hermione's, obstructing her as she stumbled across the room to her dressing gown.
'I'm fine.' Hermione insisted, but she couldn't quite tell if she was shouting, or whispering over the noise in her own head. 'Go back to sleep.'
Her magic obeyed her command accidentally, wrapping around each girl and severing their consciousness with brutal force. Hermione swore as they collapsed, snoring, where they'd stood. She hadn't meant to do that.
She didn't have time to fix it though, if Voldemort was trying to steal the stone. She dug her sword out of her trunk, belting it over her dressing gown with one hand whilst she used her other to prop herself up against a bedpost. She almost tripped over Millie's unconscious body on her way over to the door but managed to stay upright.
She ran all the way to the third floor, stumbling and tripping over every step and clinging to the wall. It was a miracle that she made it to the corridor at all without being caught; her sword kept banging against the wall and she must have been incredibly noisy.
Silence fell as she finally pressed her hand against the doorframe, the effect of the spell cancelled now that she had arrived. She breathed in relief, even though the door was ajar and music trilled from within.
She straightened her dressing gown and checked her sword, pulling and inch or so out of the sheath before sliding it back in to make sure it was loose. She drew her wand, clutching it in her left hand and took a deep, steadying breath. Voldemort was a wraith; Harry had seen that he was in the forbidden forest. Hermione had duelled worse than a wraith, even if it was the wraith of one of the most powerful dark wizards ever.
She squeezed through the open door, emerging into the silvery moonlight that spilled through the tall windows. A massive Cerberus snored loudly, three drooling heads lolled sideways over paws splayed apart to allow access to an open trap door. A harp played itself near the doorway and Hermione quickly renewed the enchantment; she was willing to bet the cerberus wouldn't be anywhere near as dozy if the music wasn't playing.
The young matriarch tiptoed to the trap door and peered down. It went very, very deep and got dark very, very quickly. She made a tossing motion with her right hand, casting the most powerful witchlight that she could. Like a flare, the light illuminated smooth, stone walls as it fell until it was little more than a twinkling star a long, long way down. She couldn't actually make out any details from this distance, but she knew a charm which would stop her before she hit the bottom.
With one last deep breath, she stepped forwards and dropped.
Air ripped past her, flipping her nightdress up around her waist and tearing at her dressing gown. The words of the spell were pulled from her mouth but she couldn't hear them over the wind in her ears.
The witchlight grew larger and brighter at an alarming rate, faster than any of Katana's dives. The spell began to work, thickening the air, slowing her fall. She managed to gasp a lungful of air, then before she'd even realised what had happened, her feet touched gently against a stone floor. She dimmed her witchlight with a wave of her wand and used her other hand to settle her dress back down.
'Hermione?' A voice asked from behind her and she whipped around, sword levelled and shield charm cast before she could even register that it really was Harry standing behind her. Neville stood just behind him and Ron was coughing and gasping for air, propped up against the wall.
'What are you lot doing here?' She demanded, double checking their surroundings in case ny other Gryffindors were hiding in the shadows. There wasn't much, just a circular room with a corridor leading off into the darkness. A flowerpot sat innocuously in the centre, full of potion-pungent earth.
'Snape's getting the stone for Voldemort tonight. Dumbledore left the school and Hagrid told Snape how to get past the dog.' Harry replied urgently.
'How did you know?' Ron demanded.
'I cast a ward on the door. I said I would. It must have triggered when he came through.' Hermione dismissed his question easily.
'Good.' Neville 'I couldn't reach my wand to get rid of that Devil's snare and Ron wouldn't stop fighting it.'
Neville glared at the red-head and Harry shuffled awkwardly.
'He wasn't the only one, Neville. I wasn't particularly happy with the plant trying to strangle me either.'
'At least it was here to catch us though. That was a wicked spell, Hermione.'
She nodded to Ron, then peered down the passage way. With a wave of her wand, her witchlight drifted a short way down, stopping at a solid wooden door.
'Let's go. We can't let Voldemort get too far ahead.' Neville insisted. Harry nodded and led the way towards the door.
'Stop!' Ron hissed suddenly, just before Harry touched the iron ring. 'Can you hear that?'
Hermione listened. There was a faint rustling and clinking noise, it sounded like a rustling dress - a lady dancing without music. Maybe she wore jewellery.
'You don't think they've got dragons, do you?' Harry asked nervously and Hermione jolted in surprise.
'Dragons?' She asked incredulously. It didn't sound anything like a dragon, dragons were large and lumbering and the chains needed to restrain it would be much louder.
'They have dragons for security at Gringotts.' Harry defended, his cheeks darkening.
'I think it sounds like bees.' Neville said quietly and three pairs of sceptical eyes turned on him. 'Metal bees.'
Shaking her head, Hermione raised her wand in one hand and drew her sword with the other. Metal and bone gleamed poisonously as she readied herself, then nodded to Harry. The boy threw the door open and she stepped forwards.
It was bright, very bright after the darkness of the corridor. The room was large and very tall, empty except for what looked like a massive flock of... metallic birds. Neville had almost been right. The birds didn't seem at all concerned by them, continuing to swarm the chandeliers with their brightly coloured wings.
'Take off your shoe.' Hermione commanded and Harry looked at her in outrage. Hermione raised an eyebrow imperiously. 'You've got fluffy socks on. Take off your shoe.'
Resigned, Harry pulled off his shoe and passed it to Hermione. She picked it up gingerly, holding her breath as she tossed it unceremoniously out into the middle of the room. They waited in tense silence, but nothing happened. Hermione summoned it back, then turned it into a skunk with a twirl of her wand.
'I thought you didn't do trans-sentience transfiguration?' Neville questioned as she shooed the animal in the right direction.
'It started as non-sentient. It's not actually a living thing, just a magical construct of life.' Hermione said primly. 'Therefore there are not the same ethical issues... and it's not like I'm going to let it breed with a real skunk.'
'A skunk? Really?' Harry demanded.
'Well, it wasn't much of a change.' Ron snorted.
'Looks like they're not going to do anything.' Hermione concluded once her skunk had done several laps of the room. She flicked her wand again, turning Harry's shoe back to normal. Harry summoned it back to himself and put it back on, still looking disgruntled.
The group crossed the room cautiously, wands ready.
Nothing happened.
They reached the door and Hermione nervously reached for it with her magic to check for wards. It was heavily enchanted, throbbing with the lingering power of a host of unfamiliar spells. With no other option, she gingerly placed her hand against the wood. Nothing happened.
Her hand drifted towards the handle - old and silver, worn by age. She still wore her crown with it's powerful protective spells, if anyone could touch a cursed door handle, it was her.
She turned the handle - nothing.
Ron jammed his shoulder into the door and brushed her hand off the handle, rattling the entire thing in it's frame. Harry joined him, pushing and shoving and twisting the handle.
'We need to get the key.' Neville interrupted. Hermione glanced at him, then followed his eyes up to the flock of birds. Except, now that she looked closely, they weren't birds, they were indeed flying keys.
'There! Broomsticks!' Ron called, pointing across the room to where five broomsticks rested on a rack. Neville swallowed nervously but managed to take off, hovering uncertainly.
'I'll stay below them, maybe stop them from going down.' The pureblood decided, voice trembling. Hermione glided serenely past him, trying to force the uncomfortable school broom to bank properly.
'Good idea - Hermione, you take the top, see if you can keep them away from the ceiling; keep an eye out for the right one. Harry and I will stir them up a bit.'
Hermione drifted up through the cloud of keys which scattered away from her. They were lucky that Harry was such a good flier otherwise this would be almost impossible.
She spiralled above the birds, keeping her eyes peeled as Ron and Harry darted through the flock, agitating them into a boiling sea. Harry was the first to spot it, pointing out a large key with a crumpled wing. She flew over to it, forcing it downwards as Neville moved up like a pincer. It tried to dart sideways along the wall, Ron blocked it with a sharp swerve. The key turned tail and sped in the opposite direction. Harry's hand snapped out and grabbed it as it skittered past him, barely half a meter from his broom. He whooped and they all dove back to the floor, casting the brooms aside carelessly as Harry jammed the struggling key into the lock.
The door swung open with an ominous click and the key tore free, flying erratically now that it had been caught twice.
Hermione cast a new witchlight and once more led the way with her sword raised. Fire flared in a dozen torches along the walls of the new, massive chamber.
'Chess.' Hermione said dryly. 'We have to play Chess.'
'I'm the queen.' Hermione declared, striding across the room and knocking sharply at the black queen's skirt with her sword. The massive stone piece nodded gratingly and clanked away to the sidelines. Hermione took it's place.
'Right... Neville, you take that castle, Harry, you take the bishop.' Ron decided. 'I'll be a knight.'
The boys moved to their assigned pieces and Hermione had to admit that she was probably not the one to be taking the lead in this task. Whilst she enjoyed the game, she had a record of being soundly beaten and if the Grindelwalds had settled for any less expensive pieces, they probably would have mutinied months ago.
Once they were all in position, the white pieces took their first move. A pawn rolled forwards two spaces.
There was very little conversation, Neville was rather good at chess but he was definitely not as good as Ron. Hermione was reluctant to admit that the red-head was probably as good as Gellert and her brother was a truly remarkable player. Ron directed their black pieces effortlessly, Neville muttering agreements with each move and once or twice pointing out that one of them was in danger.
There was a little more debate when they realised Ron would have to sacrifice their other knight, but eventually it was decided that it was the best move. They all watched with bated breath as the black figure clopped forwards. The white queen raised her massive sword and brought it scything down. It crashed through the knight, shattering him into pieces before she dragged the debris off the board.
'Merlin. We do not want to lose.' Neville muttered. They'd all gone very pale.
'Right.' Ron said, looking very shaken. 'Hermione, you can take that bishop now.'
The bishop turned to her and she hefted her own sword. She was careful to only step on the squares that she was allowed in as she crossed to the white piece. Then, she slashed her sword diagonally. It cut through the stone like a hot knife through butter and the two heavy marble blocks toppled over with a crash. She cleared the board with a wave of her hand and took the now empty spot.
The game progressed slowly, as all chess games do. Hermione took several pieces and even Neville punched a pawn in the face at one point. Casualties mounted on both sides, limp and shattered pieces lining up against the walls.
'We're nearly there.' Ron murmured, surveying the rather empty board. 'Yes... its the only way.'
'No, don't do it!' Neville squeaked.
'I have to. It leaves Harry free to checkmate their king next turn.'
'Ron...' Harry trailed off warningly. Now that it had been pointed out to her, Hermione could also see what Ron was planning to do. It left a cold, sick feeling in her guts.
'Look, do you want to stop Snape or not?'
'Ron...' Neville said, pained.
'If we don't do it, Voldemort will probably kill me anyway. My family fought against him last time.' Ron took a heavy breath, then before anyone could say anything more, he took three steps. The white queen pounced. She struck hard with her stone sword which crunched into Ron's arm and ribs and tossed him sideways like a doll. She picked up his limp form by the obviously broken arm and dragged him off the board.
Hermione fidgeted in her spot.
Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to his left. The white king pulled off his crown and chucked it at Harry's feet and the other pieces parted, bowing deeply to them. They looked desperately back at Ron, but didn't dare walk anywhere but the path made by the pieces.
'He'll be okay, he'll be okay.' Neville muttered under his breath like a mantra.
'What's next?' Harry breathed as they reached another door.
'We've had Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick. So Snape and Quirrel.' Neville said after a moment's pause.
'This isn't right.' Hermione said after a moment. 'It's too easy.'
'What do you mean?' Harry asked incredulously.
'There's powerful ward, impregnable, hidden - the fidelius charm alone would make it almost impossible to find the stone. Why is it hidden somewhere that a group of first years have managed to pass?' She pointed out. Two pairs of eyes widened.
'Maybe Dumbledore thought it would be safe in the school?'
'Why did Dumbledore bring something so dangerous to a school in the first place - it's brought Voldemort here.' Hermione demanded.
'Look,' Harry snapped after a moment, 'I don't know why Dumbledore put the stone here, but I do know that we need to make sure Voldemort doesn't get it. We can get angry later.'
'Harry's right.' Neville agreed, but he looked concerned. Hermione nodded and once more lifted her sword and led the way through a door.
'Troll!' Harry exclaimed as a foul smell thickened the air.
A huge troll was unconscious, sprawled across the floor in the middle of the room. Glad that the didn't have to fight that one, they dashed across the room and through the next doorway to escape the spell.
This room was odd. It was very quiet and a table took up the middle of the room. Placed in a neat row were seven differently shaped and coloured bottles. As soon as they crossed the threshold, purple fire roared up behind them, filling the doorway. Black fire seared across the far doorway as well, trapping them in the room.
'There's instructions.' Neville pointed to a sheet of parchment that had been stuck to the table and they hurried over to read it.
It was a little rhyme which essentially told them which bottles to drink. She read it several times, then quickly plucked two bottles from the lineup. One was very small, and definitely only half full and the other was much larger and slightly iridescent.
'There's only enough for one of us to go forwards.' Harry pointed out nervously.
'I've got my crown; it should have strong enough enchantments to get me through the fire.' She touched the familiar metal on her brow.
'What about me?' Neville asked uncertainly.
'You go back.' Harry said decisively. 'No, listen. Grab Ron and get some brooms from the key room. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore.'
'He's right, Neville.' Hermione said quietly. 'Snape is a powerful wizard - neither of us are really a match for him in a duel, especially not if Voldemort is in there too. We need Dumbledore.'
Neville nodded quickly and picked up the larger bottle. He took a large gulp, grimacing slightly as the mysterious potion took effect. Then he bowed deeply to Hermione and Harry.
'High Priestess, Lord Potter. May magic flow in your favour. It was a pleasure fighting with you.'
Hermione curtsied deeply in reply and Harry hastily followed suit, seeming to understand that this was a custom that Neville found important.
'And in yours, Heir Longbottom.'
Then Neville turned and strode through the fire. It roared slightly louder as he passed, but they heard him call that he was okay once he was through. Hermione turned to Harry and passed him the potion. He looked dubiously at her crown.
'You sure that crown is strong enough?'
'Yes.' Hermione lied.
'Right, lets go then.' Harry turned to the fire and raised the potion to his lips. Hermione steeled herself and reached out her hand to take his. His fingers were clammy with nerves and she was sure hers were no better. She'd fought and duelled before, but never against such an accomplished adult wizard and never without another powerful adult at her back.
'Three, two... one!' Hermione counted them down, and on one they stepped into the flames.
It was unbearably hot, the crown on her brow seared with heat and magic flared blindingly bright around her. Harry's hand, blessedly cool, pulled her forwards and out of the fire and the moment she was clear she tore the crown from her head, hurling it away.
The runic decorations glowed brightly, reflecting on the polished floor. She was unharmed, except for some slightly tender skin on her forehead but the damage had been done. As the light faded from the runes on her crown, so did the magic. Where it had previously hummed with protective energy, it was now just mundane metal circlet. She picked it up anyway, meeting Harry's concerned eyes with a shrug.
'It did what it was meant to.'
In reality, she was devastated but if one heirloom was the cost of stopping a dark wizard rising to power; it was a price she was willing to pay.
Harry nodded and they crept between a pair of pillars. They were in a large auditorium, circular flights of stairs leading down to a central arena. A massive, ornate mirror sat in the middle of the room and in front of it was a figure.
'Quirrel?' Harry gasped.
'Potter. I wondered if I'd be seeing you here.' The professor drawled and Hermione swallowed. His stutter was completely gone. 'You've brought a friend... Miss Gorlois.'
'I thought... Snape...' Harry stuttered.
'Oh, Severus.' Quirrel crowed. 'He does seem the type, doesn't he? So helpful, swooping around like an overgrown bat and distracting the other staff from p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel. But you, my dear...' Quirrel glided up the staircase, his eyes fixed on Hermione. 'You were a blessing. Albus Dumbledore was so focused on having a Grindelwald in the school; I could have cursed Potter right under his nose and he wouldn't have noticed.'
'Severus was the only one who suspected me, really. Kept trying to frighten me off... as if he could when I have the Dark Lord on my side. Now, quiet, both of you. I need to focus. This mirror is the key to finding the stone, I'm sure of it.' Quirrel prowled around the mirror, brushing his fingers over the frame and even touching the glass as if longing for his own reflection. 'Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London. I'll have figured it out and be long gone by the time he gets back.'
'It's the mirror of Erised.' Harry muttered to Hermione. 'It shows what you most desire, not the truth.' Harry muttered to Hermione. Unfortunately, some of his words must have carried because Quirrel whirled back to them.
'What do you know, Potter?' The older wizard demanded, stalking up the stairs towards them with his wand raised. 'What did that old fool tell you?'
'Don't you touch him.' Hermione cried, stepping in front of her friend.
'Out of my way, girl!' Quirrel snarled, slashing his wand. Hermione countered, lighting fast. Her shield flashed brightly and sent Quirrel's curse skittering into the wall. Pleased by the surprise that coloured Quirrel's features, she retaliated with a flurry of spells. His expression morphed from surprise to annoyance, then to fury as she forced him back down the staircase. She had the higher ground, she had the advantage.
Harry had taken shelter behind one of the pillars as their furious casting lit the room like a deadly firework display. It was wonderful, casting with her wand in her left hand and her sword in her right. Magic flowed easily and powerfully through both, almost without requiring guidance. Purple fire followed the arcs of her sword, crimson bolts shot from her wand and her shield shimmered silver.
Quirrel was very, very powerful. Hermione learned quickly not to let any of his spells impact on her shield. Without her battlerobes to fortify her protective casting, the impact left her magic feeling numb and sluggish, like it had taken a blow to the head. She took to ducking and weaving instead, deflecting if necessary. Quirrel quickly picked up on her tactic and started using large, area effect spells that she couldn't dodge. He forced Hermione to jump sideways and off the stairs to stop a stray spell catching Harry, and she lost the advantage of the high ground. Now that they were on the flat, she had to work much harder. Quirrel could use his whole body to throw more power and speed behind his spells and Hermione was less able to dodge. They duelled their way around the floor, breathing heavily. Sweat flicked from her skin with every sharp movement and her stupid fluffy dressing gown was stiflingly hot. She'd lost her slippers early on and the sandy floor was sharp and uncomfortable against her feet.
She had made a stupid, stupid error. As they circled the mirror, she suddenly found that she was no longer between Quirrel and Harry. The professor pulled away suddenly, darting out of the way of her spells and back up the stairs.
'Ah Ah. You wouldn't want me to hurt him now, Miss Gorlois.' Quirrel wheezed, wand pointed straight at Harry. Hermione snarled through her gasps for breath but let her sword tip drift down.
'Don't let him get the stone.' Harry called. But Hermione couldn't do anything, couldn't cast any spells.
'Drop your wand and sword.' Quirrel ordered. Hermione obeyed, tossing down both weapons. The professor used his wand to force Harry to stand and prodded him down the staircase.
'Now sit.' Quirrel ordered, pushing Harry down on the bottom step. A sharp gesture of his wand had Hermione doing the same, and a moment later heavy chains wound themselves around their feet to hold them in place.
With order restored, Quirrel returned to the mirror. He picked up Hermione's wand along the way, as well as her sword. She gritted her teeth.
'Now, tell me, Potter.' Quirrel purred darkly but the effect lost because he was still out of breath. 'What do you know about the mirror?'
'Nothing.' Harry said quickly.
'Liar!' A new voice hissed. Hermione's eyes darted around, trying to find the fourth person. It sounded like they were close to Quirrel. 'Let me speak to him. Face to face.'
'Master. You are not strong enough!' Quirrel fretted, and a stone settled in Hermione's stomach. Voldemort was here.
'I am strong enough for this.' The voice replied. To her horror, Quirrel reached up and began to unwrap his turban. Ribbons of purple cloth fell to the floor and in the darkness, they looked like bloody spills across the sand.
Slowly, Quirrel turned and Hermione squeaked in horror. Growing out of the back oh his head was a second face. It was chalk white with crimson eyes that seemed to glow and slit-like nostrils.
'Harry Potter.' The face whispered. Harry stiffened next to her. 'Come here, Harry Potter.'
With no options, Harry stood. The chains holding him had melted into smoke. He shuffled over until he was just out of Quirrel's reach.
'Look in the mirror, Harry Potter. Tell me what you see.' Voldemort hissed. Quirrel jabbed his wand in Harry's direction threateningly. Harry glanced back at Hermione, his eyes meeting hers. She nodded in agreement. If Voldemort believed he needed the mirror to get the stone, they would make sure he couldn't use it.
With a wordless cry she yanked the ruined crown from her head and hurled it at Voldemort's face. It struck him dead on, sending Quirrel stumbling as both cried out in pain. Harry, no longer at wand point, spun. He snatched Hermione's sword from Quirrel's belt and sent it smashing into the mirror.
Glass flew everywhere; razor blades that sliced into their skin and drew steams of blood. The heavy frame teetered precariously, then toppled backwards.
'Noo!' Quirrel howled, falling desperately to his knees among the shards of mirror.
'Fool!' Voldemort cried at the same time. Jerkily, like the two inhabitants of his body were fighting for control, Quirrel lunged towards Harry. Still bound, Hermione did the only thing she could. She sent power searing out, pure, raw magical strength. It had no purpose other than to protect and separate. Quirrel collided with the almost physical barrier and screamed, an agonising, terrible sound. His body blurred, a shadow being forced out of him by Hermione's magic. Voldemort fought; bitterly, powerfully.
He turned on Hermione, lashing out one last time.
Harry tackled him from behind.
Voldemort's final, desperate spell hit her - as wordless and unformed as her own. Everything went dark.