Just a quick warning-this chapter is like, twice as long as the rest! Sorry about that; I didn't know how to split it up, so I just said, "Eff it, it can be one chapter." :3


That night, we decided to wait for the common room to clear out before beginning our expedition. We played games of Gobstones to pass the time—poor Hermione was abysmal at that game—or read books, or simply stared into space. One-by-one, our fellow Gryffindors retreated for bed… until at last, it was simply the four of us sitting by a roaring fire.

"Better get the cloak," Ron murmured to Harry, who nodded and ascended the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

He came back down quickly, the cloak tucked under his arm. "We'd better put the Cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us. If Filch spots one of our feet wandering off on its own—"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. I gasped, not having realized that there was still someone else; from the plushy chair enveloped in darkness rose Neville, who stared at us in hurt and suspicion. Perched on his shoulder was his pet toad, who ribbited at us and puffed out his throat.

Harry began hastily stuffing the Invisibility Cloak from view, replying, "Nothing, Neville, nothing," as he did so.

But Neville was not fooled. His face fell as he said, "You're going out again."

The toad swallowed and ribbited again: the only sound in the whole room.

"No, no," I said, doubling down even though our words were big fat lies. "We're not going anywhere. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"

"You can't go out!" Neville exclaimed, his eyes wide. "You'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."

"You don't understand, Neville," said Harry. "This is really important."

But Neville didn't want to hear it. He shook his head and halfheartedly held up his fists… they were shaking. His whole body was shaking as he cried, "I won't let you do it! I'll—I'll fight you!"

"Neville!" bellowed Ron. The rest of us jumped from how loud he had yelled; lowering his voice so other people wouldn't come down and see what the commotion was about, Ron hissed, "Get away from the portrait hole and don't be an idiot—"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" Neville retorted, now becoming angry rather than scared. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," groaned Ron, rolling his eyes. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."

Neville dropped his toad, who hopped out of sight. His fists were still up, but his expression was a mixture of fear and anger. "Go on, then, try to hit me!"

Seeing that we weren't going to be able to pass through without having to do something, Harry and Ron both turned towards me and Hermione. They jerked their heads in Neville's direction with the clear intention of asking us to do something. Hermione took lead of the situation with a sad sigh. "Neville, I'm really, really sorry about this. Petrificus Totalus!"

A jet of ice-white light emerged from Hermione's wand and hit Neville directly in the chest; he immediately went rigid as a board and stood utterly frozen… and then he began to topple backwards. He slapped into the ground on his back, as his arms and legs alike had been snapped to his sides.

"What've you done to him?" whispered Harry, slightly horrified.

There were tears in Hermione's eyes as she glanced among us and whispered, "It's the full-body bind. Oh, Neville, I'm so, so sorry."

Our friend's eyes were following us around the room; those, at least, were free to his own will. As Harry and Ron began walking towards the portrait hole, I glanced down at him and murmured, "It'll make sense later, Neville. Don't worry about us, all right? We'll… we won't get caught."

And with that, we proceeded onward, Neville's eyes despondently watching us go.

Once we emerged from the common room, Harry gathered us forth and swept the Invisibility Cloak around all four of our bodies. It was a bit of a tight fit seeing as there were four of us, but luckily our feet didn't stick out when we shuffled forward, which meant we still should've been undetectable. Even so, we took great care as we walked, knowing that if someone was to reach us, one trip or footstep upon the hem of the cloak would be game over.

Up until we reached the staircase to the third floor, the coast had been clear. Right as I was thinking we might not have to worry about running into anyone, however, we turned the corner to see a ghost blocking our way: and it was none other than Peeves the Poltergeist.

We froze upon seeing Peeves and didn't move a centimeter, with the hope that eventually he would drift away. Unfortunately, things could be so easy—Peeves stopped in his midair tracks too and narrowed his translucent eyes. "Who's there? Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

I glanced over to Harry with wide eyes… but far from seeming concerned, he just shot me a crooked grin I'd never before seen and put his finger to his lips. In a croaky, raspy voice, he hissed, "Peeves… the Bloody Baron has his own reasons to be invisible."

Peeves practically toppled out of the air and began bowing multiple times, all the while stammering, "So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir. My mistake, my mistake, I didn't see you, of course I didn't, you're invisible—forgive old Peevsie his joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," Harry said, taking care to croak in the hoarse way he had before. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves while rising from his twenty-third bow. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

He floated off—had he been alive, Peeves certainy would've been wiping the sweat from his face. Once he was gone, I laughed softly and squeezed Harry's arm. "That was brilliant, Harry! I forgot how scared Peeves was of the Bloody Baron!"

Harry gave me that same crooked smile and gestured for us to continue on. After scooting up the staircase, we found ourselves by the third-floor corridor—the door was already open.

A smooth, cool dread settled in my stomach as my friends exchanged looks. As soon as we stepped through that door, there would be no going back: but we did it anyway, embracing whatever dangers might lie further beyond Fluffy, whose snores we could hear even down the hallway.

Drawing nearer to the sound, Harry sighed and shook his head as we carefully closed the door behind us and took off the Invisibility Cloak. "There you are. Snape's already got past Fluffy." He then turned to us, and hesitantly added, "If you want to go back, I won't blame you. You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

I laughed and shoved the cloak away. "Don't be daft, we're coming with you."

Hermione and Ron nodded fervently to back me up.

Giving us grateful smiles, Harry gestured us onward. As we tiptoed closer to the wall to get a good look at him, we noticed that the beast's eyes were closed thanks to a harp in the corner that was faintly playing.

The moment we noticed the instrument, the harp stopped.

Fluffy snorted—yawned—

Harry waved frantically for us to start running, but I wasn't to be deterred that easily. Taking a deep breath, I began to hum a melody… it was a melody not forgotten, but long since heard: one that my mother used to sing to me as a child.

The dog's eyes dropped again, and the snoring resumed.

My three friends exhaled and shot me relieved grins. As I stood singing quietly in front of the three-headed pooch, my friends walked to the trapdoor and began a whispered conversation.

"Do you want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"Here, I'll go first. Belle should go last since she's got the dog preoccupied. I'll let you know if it's safe."

And before any of us could protest, Harry leapt down the trapdoor. I was so worried about what might be down there that I almost stopped humming… almost.

Finally, from below, we heard, "It's okay! It's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Hearing this, Ron followed Harry's footsteps, Hermione afterwards. Now alone, I looked back at Fluffy and smiled somewhat. He was actually pretty cute, sleeping and snoring like an overgrown puppy. Although I knew it might be a bad idea, I reached out a hand and scratched one of his snouts.

Fluffy yawned and rolled over.

Restraining a short giggle, I ran over to the trapdoor and made my descent.

What awaited me was a long, lightless pit—but after a brief moment, I landed on something soft like Harry had promised; but it was instantly clear that something was very wrong.

Harry and Ron were struggling as strange branches crept over them. They gave me wide eyes as if to tell me to run, but before I could act, the branches clasped around my legs too, rendering me helpless.

I pulled my wand out of my pocket and shrieked, "What is this?"

"It's Devil's Snare!" answered Hermione.

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," Ron snapped, thrashing around to keep the vines from curling around his arms.

"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" Hermione closed her eyes, already lost to our increasing panic. She was quite still as the Devil's Snare enveloped itself around her body—and suddenly, she was dragged under.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron shouted, their eyes as wide as tea saucers.

"Don't move!" Somewhere below us, Hermione's voice rang out clear as day. "I'm fine! Just don't struggle or it'll only kill you faster."

"Kill us faster?" Ron exclaimed in disbelief. "Oh, now I can relax!"

Both of the boys continued struggling to be free of the Devil's Snare, but I took a moment to gather myself. Panicking now would do no one any good—and Hermione sounded like she was all right, and she'd only been dragged away once she had relaxed…

I decided to follow Hermione's advice. It took work, lessening the tension within my arms and legs, trying to ignore the pounding of my heartbeat. But after a few moments, the branches grasp lessened. Noting this success, I turned to Harry and Ron and huffed, "You know, perhaps you should listen to the one who's gotten perfect grades on every Herbology assignment we've been given this year!"

Before either of them could reply, the vines of the plant began cascading over my body, my eyes—it pushed me down and spat me out onto a stone floor.

"Belle!" they both screamed.

Those imbeciles. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I glanced upward—Hermione was extending a hand, which I took to haul myself up to my feet. All there was bove us was a giant mass of plant. "You guys, trust us! Just stay still!"

There was no response… but then, a glob of branches came down towards us. Right when I was about to cast a spell at it in case it would attack, the plant yakked Harry out at our feet, his glasses falling off his head in the fall. He had to grope around for a second before locating them.

"AHH! HARRY!" Ron shrieked. He continued screaming until suddenly, his voice was cut off.

"He's not relaxing, is he?" exclaimed Hermione as I grabbed Harry's glasses and returned them to his palm. She stammered aimlessly for a moment, chanting, "Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare, it's deadly fun… but will sulk in the sun! That's it! Devil's Snare hates sunlight!" She whipped her wand upwards and shouted, "Lumos Solem!"

A blinding ray of light exited her wand, washing over the plant. The Devil's Snare roared; Ron plopped unceremoniously beside us.

We rushed to upright him, as it was clear he was still slightly disoriented. It was Harry who got him standing again—upon realizing that he was alive, however, Ron whistled and exclaimed, "Whew! Lucky we didn't panic!"

He was met with three glares.

"Lucky Hermione pays attention in Herbology," remarked Harry, and with that, we were off again.

Harry led the way down a dark corridor, and the rest of us followed. There was something about the hallway that made me uneasy—Hermione and I ended up huddling together, seeing as not only was it ominous, it was freezing cold.

At last, we heard a soft rustling; a door at the end of the hallway stood ajar.

"There's a light ahead," I said, pointing towards the door. The others squinted to see what I had pointed out. "I can see something moving behind it… a few shadows."

It was only another moment before we were gathered behind said door, our wands withdrawn in case the shadows I had mentioned belonged to something dangerous. The ruffling sound that we were all hearing did not sound like any creature, however… it rather sounded like wings.

Harry burst the door open and charged inside only to drop his wand in bafflement. When I entered the room next, my mouth fell open.

Hovering over us were no less than two-hundred keys, all charmed to have silvery wings. It was impossible to count them all… they were made in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Sitting in the middle of the room were two broomsticks, floating easily in the air. Based on the locked door on the other end of the room, it was clear that we'd have to find the key that fit the door handle if we wished to move forward.

Ron sighed and threw his hands in the air. "Now what?"

"These birds… they can't be here just for decoration," mused Hermione.

I couldn't help but laugh a little as I corrected her. "What? They aren't birds, they're keys."

Harry's eyes fell upon the door at the end of the room. "So that must mean… Yes! We've got to catch the key to that door!"

"But there are hundreds of keys!" protested Hermione.

Ron stepped forward and took a good long look at the door. He peered at the closely, analyzing it… and then he announced, "We're looking for a big, old-fashioned key. Silver, like the handle—and if Snape's already been down here, it's probably beat up."

"There! I see it," cried Harry, pointing above us and to our left. I squinted and was suddenly able to see which key he was referencing—its wing was bent, and the poor thing was struggling to stay afloat.

I took a long look at the two broomsticks. They were incredibly simple… they wouldn't hold up much longer, if I knew anything about broomsticks, and I fancied that I knew plenty about them. Some of the twigs were out of place, the handles were scratched, and it simply looked like they'd been used wrongly for too long.

Harry put a hand on my arm and shot me a look. He didn't have to say anything—I knew what he wanted to say.

I shot him a nod, and then as one, we grabbed the broomsticks.

Of course, things instantly got more complicated.

The keys began pelting themselves at us even before we had mounted the broomsticks. We received many nasty cuts before we were even ten feet in the air, but there was no way we would be passing up an opportunity to keep going forward.

"Go for the key!" I shouted, pointing towards where it was flying about. "I'll distract some of the others!"

Harry nodded and bolted forward while I dove the other way, determined to make his job easier by keeping some of the keys on my tail.

The room's size was certainly helpful as I maintained my course of being a distraction. It was a large dome, about fifteen to twenty meters tall; while it was no Quidditch pitch, I soon learned that the wooden beams along the ceiling made for great obstacles, seeing as some of the keys would bury themselves deep inside the beams and were then stuck for good.

"Got it!" shouted Harry. "Ron, Hermione, come catch the key!"

I didn't look back to see how my friends were doing—I needed to keep my eyes peeled on the pathway ahead. Even though the room was conducive enough for flying, one second being distracted could end up with me crashing into a wall.

A few seconds later, I heard the unmistakable sound of a large door being opened, and Hermione's voice exclaimed, "Come on, guys, we're ready!"

Harry suddenly appeared beside me. "Let's go! To the door!"

We shot our broomsticks forward. The doorway was large enough for the two of us to make it through, if we were accurate with where we were flying. There was no room for error… the doorway got closer, closer—

And then we were through, and Hermione and Ron were shoving the door closed behind us.

Safe from the enchanted keys, Harry and I exchanged looks and exhaled deeply. We couldn't help but laugh after dismounting; it wasn't every day one got chased by hundreds of angry, bewitched keys.

After taking quick inventory of our new scratches and mild injuries, we took a look at where we ended up. This time, we were in no passageway. It was another large room: this one was far from empty. White and black marble statues were placed in a vaguely familiar formation…

We walked past the black statues and started towards the white figures, behind which the next large door stood. Before we could get to the door, however, the white statues withdrew rusted iron swords and blocked our path.

Baffled, we stopped. I took another look at our surroundings—there were lanterns illuminating the room, providing only a dim atmosphere. The floor beneath our feet was checkered in white and black.

"It's a chess board," I whispered hoarsely.

The moment I said this, the lanterns flared, and the room was illuminated. The white pieces sheathed their swords, but I was certain that if we were to attempt to move past them again, they would be taken out once more.

"Now what do we do?" asked Harry.

Ron chuckled. "It's obvious, isn't it? We've got to play our way across the room." He took another long look around and sighed. "I think we're going to have to be chessmen."

That cold dread was back in my stomach again. I was decent at Wizard's Chess, but nowhere near skilled enough to confidently direct my friends without fear… but Ron was actually quite skilled at it…

Turning towards him, I asked, "Where do you want us?"

Ron's ears turned red upon noticing that I had turned to him first off. "Now, don't be offended or anything, but none of you are very good at chess—well, Belle is all right, I guess, but—"

"We aren't offended," I laughed. "Just tell us what to do."

Ron looked at the black statues for a moment before announcing, "Harry, you take the place of that bishop. Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle, and Belle, take the place of the opposite castle. As for me… well, I'll be a knight."

After these orders were distributed, the aforementioned chess pieces dragged themselves off the board, leaving those squares empty so we could play. They stopped at the borders of the door we had just entered through and turned to face us, as if letting us know that there was no turning back once the game began.

"White always plays first in chess," muttered Ron. "Yes, look…"

A white pawn had moved forward two squares; thus began a very important game. Ron directed us across the board, occasionally asking for my opinion.

Our first nasty shock came when Ron was forced to sacrifice the other knight. The white queen silently leapt forward and slashed the knight to bits with her sword; the shrapnel, its remnants, scattered across the board.

Ron's face was pale as he stammered, "I, uh… I had to let that happen. Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on…"

But after seeing that display, we knew for certain that the four of us couldn't be taken out by the opposing team. Although previously Harry and Hermione had been helping Ron where they were able, pointing out strategies that may or may not have worked, they suddenly fell silent and allowed Ron to command us without dispute. A few times, I had to remind him that Harry, Hermione, or even Ron himself was in danger, to which he would correct his mistake just in time.

The game went on for a while, and it was consistently back-and-forth. Ron had made many sacrifices, but the payoff was always worth it…

Until forty minutes later, when there came a point where even Ron was stumped. He glanced around the board—other than two of our pawns, the other bishop, and our king, we were the only ones left on the board. Our opponent had their queen, two pawns, both knights, and their king. Even though they had fewer players, their pieces were better for utilization, and their placements were strategically better than ours.

The white queen turned to face Ron, who resolutely set his jaw. His voice certain, he said, "Yes… it's the only way. I've got to be taken."

"No!" I gasped, extending a hand in his direction. "Ron, you can't!"

Ron pursed his lips and retorted, "That's chess! You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me—that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

Harry stared at him. "But—"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron—" I protested.

Again he stopped me. "Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

I looked towards the ground, a lump in my throat. As much as I didn't want to admit it, Ron was right. His way was the only way, or no way at all.

Harry sighed and looked towards Ron before nodding grimly.

"Ready? Here I go, now—don't hang around once you've won," said Ron, who was pale and sweating as he moved forward a singular step. Having made his move, he stared directly at the white queen; the piece that, although it was an inanimate object, was still turned unmistakably in his direction.

With blinding speed, she darted forward and slapped a blow across Ron's forehead. Our friend went limp and crashed to the ground.

It was impossible to tell what the damage was from so far away. Everything in me screamed that we needed to check on him, but we didn't dare move. The game was still being played, after all… and so, having regained my breath, I looked to Harry and said, "Go on, Harry. Three spaces to your left."

He swallowed and obeyed. Then, turning to face their king, he shouted, "Checkmate!"

The sword standing in front of the king's silhouette detached itself and fell, clattering upon the marble board in a deafening cacophony of sound.

We stood still for a moment, ensuring that the white pieces wouldn't suddenly come to life again. Once we determined all was safe, we rushed to Ron. There was a rather deep cut on his forehead, but he was breathing. Madam Pomfrey would be able to have him up again in a heartbeat, were she there.

It was Hermione who spoke first, her voice a whisper. "I'll stay with him. Once he wakes up, we'll send an owl to Dumbledore. Belle, Harry… I think you should go on, stop Snape while you can."

Both Harry and I were silent as we continued to look at Ron. Some of his blood was already trailing down his forehead and onto the checkered floor.

Hermione gasped and squeaked, "Oh, you guys, what if he's—"

"He'll be all right," Harry replied, cutting her off. "I know it."

That was all he could say, and Hermione seemed to realize that. She swallowed once; as she looked back to us, her eyes regained the fire she'd so briefly lost. "What do you think is next?"

I closed my eyes and thought back to what Hagrid had said, so long ago, about who had contributed to protecting the Stone. "We've had Professor Sprout's protection, that was the Devil's Snare. Flitwick put charms on the keys, and Professor McGonagall must've transfigured the chessmen to make them come alive. Quirrell's is probably next… then Snape's."

Harry nodded. "You're probably right. Hermione, are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes," she said, resolute. "Go."

And so we rose and walked towards the other side of the room. Before we opened the door, Harry took my hand and squeezed it. "We're going to make it," he murmured encouragingly. "We can do it."

I squeezed his hand in return, grateful that he had initiated the gesture. "I believe that. At the end of the day, we're a force to be reckoned with, Harry Potter."

He grinned, grabbed the handle, and swung open the next door.

We were met with another long, darkened hallway. As we stepped inside, the most rancid odor protruded from whatever lay ahead. Our eyes swiftly watered; Harry and I threw our robes up to our noses and plugged them for good measure. The stink was still strong even with these precautions.

The smell didn't dampen when we reached the end of the corridor and entered the next room. Lying upon the floor in the following room was a massive troll, about twice as big and foul as the one we had tackled on Halloween. It had a bloody lump on its head: unconscious.

We looked at each other, disgusted. Harry was the first to move, stepping over the troll's legs and grunting, "I'm glad we didn't have to fight this one. Come on, I can't breathe."

Harry waited for me to follow his path before opening the next door. Knowing that this next challenge was Snape's, I braced myself for something truly horrifying… but the room was all but empty. There were no dark wizards or challenges: there was a small desk upon which seven bottles of different sizes and colors sat, and a roll of parchment sitting on a pedestal.

Hardly believing our luck, we entered the room—the door slammed shut behind us. Purple fire sprang up over the door we'd just entered from, and black fire curtained the door ahead.

Left with little else to do, we moved to the desk and grabbed the parchment.

"Snape," grumbled Harry, scowling. "What do we have to do?"

I scanned over the parchment in my hands and read aloud:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find.

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead.

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in the line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four.

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide,

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side.

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend.

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size

Neither dwarf nor giant hold death on their insides.

Fourth, the second left and second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Upon finishing this message, I laughed. "It's a riddle. Some of the greatest wizards in history can't solve things like these… they'd be in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" Harry asked, obviously nervous.

I shot him the same crooked smile he gave me while deceiving Peeves and answered, "Not at all. Just give me a few minutes."

The second left and second on the right - Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

That clearly meant those were the two wines, seeing as there were three poisons and only two wines. And according to the first clue, poison was always on wine's left side, which meant the first and fifth bottles were poison, seeing as the second and sixth bottles were the wines.

As you can see clearly, all are different size - Neither dwarf nor giant hold death on their insides

The giant was the seventh in the line—the smallest bottle was third. Neither of those held wine or poison, meaning that one of these would help us onward, while the other would allow us to return to the troll's room.

Different are those who stand at either end - But if you would move onward, neither is your friend.

So if the giant was the seventh bottle and would not kill us or help us move forward, that meant it would help us go back. Thus, the smallest bottle, which was also not poison, would help us go forward.

In order, the bottles were: poison, wine, forward, poison, poison, wine, back.

"Got it," I said, grinning at Harry, who looked confused as all hell beside me. "The smallest bottle will bring us towards the Stone."

Harry picked up the bottle and looked inside at its contents. His face fell as he swirled it lightly. "There's only enough for one in here. Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

I pointed at the seventh bottle.

"You drink that," Harry ordered. I began to object, but he interrupted me with, "No, listen, get back to Hermione and Ron. Grab the brooms from the key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy. Go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

I gaped at him, horrified. "Harry, no, we can make it work—"

"Belle." He placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled helplessly. "If we try to split it, neither of us will make it through the fire."

There were a million thoughts running through my head. What if Snape already had the Stone, what if Harry couldn't even get through the fire, what if You-Know-Who was there, too…

I couldn't stop myself from leaning forward and kissing his forehead. Harry offered me a little smile as I rose and grabbed the giant bottle off the end of the row, his green eyes following me all the while.

"Are you sure that's the right one?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I replied, and then I drank.

Ice filled my veins, encompassing me in a sense of cold I'd never felt before. Seeing my shudders, Harry rushed forward and exclaimed, "You weren't wrong?"

"No, it's just cold." I grabbed his hand again and squeezed it. "Good luck, Harry. We'll be back to help you as soon as we can."

With that, I turned to the purple fire and returned from whence we had come.