The sound of their feet on the marble staircase echoed around the cavernous chamber far louder than usual. With the close of the school year, and with the ending of their exams, most students had already retired to their respective common rooms.

It had been gruelling, and he had seen more than one student in the higher years sniffling to themselves as the stress became too much for them. Perhaps, he had been given a glimpse into his own future – maybe when the time came for him to take his own OWLs and NEWTs he would be found sniffling into a textbook. Though, with Hermione and Daphne enforcing their strict revision schedules, he doubted that he would be so stricken.

As it was, the two girls had drafted a revision schedule for their small group all the way back in February – it even had allotted time slots for Quidditch and 'being unproductive', as Hermione had helpfully pointed out. No doubt that had been one of Daphne's suggestions.

Because they had begun revising so early, their exams had been an utter breeze. He had flown through the written and practical's with nary a pause nor stutter. He had watched, more than a little amused, as others in his year panicked and floundered under the pressure. Perhaps, they had been given the necessary push to improve their school habits as a result. He had hope for some – not so much for others.

Thinking about his classmates, Harry had to fight the urge to smirk at the thought of Seamus. He and his fellow first years had a running tally of the number of cauldrons that the boy blew up. The most recent, Harry had been at the bench next to him – Daphne had explicitly stated she was never working next to Seamus again – and he had caught a glimpse of his fellow Gryffindor adding just a little too much Newt Eye. Harry had just enough time to duck under the bench before the tell-tale Fwoom and the bench shook.

As he had peered out from his small, impromptu shelter, Harry had the pleasure to see Seamus covered in soot with his eyebrows completely gone and staring in shock. One of these days, he felt, Seamus was going to burn his eyeballs beyond repair.

Despite the improvised, and completely expected, explosion during his Potions exam, their assessments had gone swimmingly. Oh, Hermione and Daphne were fretting over their answers on each and every test, a constant throughout the entire week. He, Tracey, and Neville had been content to let them vent and worry to one another, making the appropriate supporting comment when necessary.

"I'll never understand how you can be so excited over plants…" Harry sighed, glancing up at the head of their small group. Neville had decided to show them a room he had found on the seventh floor when he had gone for a stroll after lunch.

"Hey, when you find a room that's overgrown like a jungle, I'll act all put out and see how you like it." Neville retorted, looking back at Harry as they stepped onto the landing of the second floor.

Tracey groaned. "But did you have to find it on the seventh floor? Morgana forsaken Gryffindors and their bloody stairs."

"Hey, it's an adventure, alright?" Neville huffed, stepping onto the staircase for the third floor. "Besides, when I looked in there, there were some really fantastic plants."

"I've always said he was part Fae." Daphne muttered to the two girls. Harry rolled his eyes. It had been a theory Daphne had clung to when they were younger. Daphne Greengrass, lover of all things Morgana, had once claimed that Neville's love for plants came from his Fae ancestry. The only argument that had put a stop to that, was that Neville's family were originally Norse.

He still remembered the pout that Daphne had sported for an entire week with some amusement.

"Fae… As in Fairies?" Hermione asked, looking between Daphne and Neville. "Don't you think he's a bit big?"

Harry groaned from the rear of their small group. "Nice one Hermione, now she won't shut up about them for the next hour."

Daphne scowled over her shoulder at him before sniffing haughtily and turned to look at his fellow Gryffindor. "That's the classic misconception. The Fae were a race, just like humans – according to the older texts, of course. Over the years, the term has been applied to all manner of creatures. It's quite fascinating, really."

"So, what did they look like?" Tracey asked, and Harry sighed quietly and focused on climbing the stairs. The things he suffered through for his friends – they should really consider offering him a medal of some sort.

"Nobody knows – only that Morgana La Fay was raised among them, hence her name. Morgana La Fae." Daphne grinned, standing just a little taller as they reached the third floor.

Just as he stepped off of the staircase, Neville jumped back and nearly bowled the girls over. The staircases, which had a penchant for moving at odd times, had just cut off their access to the fourth floor. He watched it lazily swing to the far side of the room where it connected with a smaller landing.

Harry sighed and turned around, only to watch the staircase for the second floor do the same thing. They were stuck there – and he knew from the stories of his fellow first years, only a professor or the Headmaster could move them back.

Excellent – now all it would take would be for Filch to spot them and they'd be in detention for the last week of school. The perfect way to cap off the year.

Harry looked around – the only way they could move from where they were was a long corridor that finished in a dead-end. While there were doors all along it, each with a small sconce with a floating ball of silver-white light, the doors were all shut. There weren't even any portraits around.

He sighed and moved to sit down against the wall – Neville moving to sit opposite him. The girls, on the other hand, were whispering frantically between themselves. Harry shrugged at his best friend and grinned a little.

"Just what do the two of you think you're doing?" Hermione demanded, looking between the two of them. Perhaps it was the light, but her hair seemed a little bit bushier at that moment.

"Sitting?" Neville replied, uncertainly, as he glanced at the floor and where Hermione was standing – her hands on her hips and looking positively furious.

"Sitting? Sitting? What good will that do us? If we get caught here, we'll be in detention until fifth year!"

Harry got to his feet and stepped over to her, moving her away from the others. He could see the first indicators of her anxiety making themselves known. The way her brow furrows and her eyes tightened in the corners – even the way she pushed her thumb and index finger tightly together absently. He placed a hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze – of all of them, she seemed to respond to him the best. After a moment, she relaxed and let out a long breath.

"Can you call Clara?" She whispered, her eyes darting to their three other friends.

"I could, yes," Harry sighed, putting his hands on her shoulders, and gently leading her back to the others. "But she's out hunting. Nothing is going to happen. Even if Filch found us, he'd have to go get a professor to free us. They can't blame us for Hogwarts being Hogwarts."

Tracey was the first to join Neville, sliding down the wall and placing her satchel between her legs. It wasn't long until Daphne and Hermione also took up positions on the floor, with the latter immediately pulling a book from her bag.

"So, Daphne… Those Fairies." Neville grinned, shooting Harry a cheeky grin. Harry scowled.

"The Fae and Fairies are two completely different things, Longbottom." Daphne sniffed, tilting her chin in the air a little.

"I think it is absolutely fascinating." Hermione added, looking up from her book, scooting a little further back against the wall.

Harry mouthed a few choice words at the Longbottom heir across from him, and a glare for added effect – to which the boy responded with a quiet snicker, until Tracey elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He was suddenly thankful that all four of his friends sat against the wall across from him.

"Oh, it is!" Daphne sighed. "There is so much we don't know, or that has faded into myth or legend." "And even those have been lost to Muggle religion and revision, even we don't know what they were anymore."

"Sounds like fairy tales to me." Neville shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest and tilting his head against the stone behind him.

"Of course you would, Longbottom – if it doesn't grow in a pot, you're simply not interested." Daphne retorted, giving him a pointed look as she leaned forward. Harry quietly chuckled to himself – she wasn't wrong.

"Don't think you're out of the woods, Potter – if it's not flying, or spell-casting, you'd rather be asleep." Tracey added, and Harry gaped at her.

"Lies and slander right there. I have a deep respect for the written word!" He gasped, holding a hand to his chest.

"Boys." Hermione muttered, loud enough for them all to hear. The two girls on either side of her hummed their agreement.

Harry looked at Neville and then at the trio of girls. "We could be quite offended by that, you know." Neville nodded his agreement.

"You'll be the first to know if I ever intend to overtly offend you." Daphne sighed, as if explaining something to a child. He watched her pull out one of her own books from her satchel – one of their books for Charms, judging by the familiar cover. Tracey, likewise, removed a book about Familiars.

"I think they're purposefully ignoring us, Harry." Neville muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Nothing ever gets past you, does it?"

"You're mean when you're stuck in a corridor, has anyone ever told you that?"

"No, I think you're the first, actually."

"Well now I just feel special."

Harry chuckled and caught Daphne rolling her eyes behind her book. Tracey seemed to be torn between amused and exasperated, while Hermione just seemed completely unaware of the world around her.

They remained there for a while – the three girls reading quietly with the occasional whisper, while Neville and himself were simply content to talk between themselves.

They discussed a number of things – from who they thought would take home the Seasonal Cup in August, to what Harry was most excited to do over the Summer Break. The question had given him pause, and he had tapped his right knee – which he had pulled towards him at some point, with his left remaining stretched out – and chewed on his bottom lip. What was it that he was the most excited about?

Was it finally attending the Wizengamot? He would be confined to the viewing gallery with the other heirs of his age, but it was wonderfully exciting – well, as exciting as watching a room full of stuffy old men and women argue back and forth while speaking in circles could be, he supposed. Or perhaps that was simply Sirius's comments over the years colouring his expectations.

Maybe it would be his opportunity to continue his martial skills? Oh, he had no doubt that he would be battered, bruised and tossed into the dirt the entire time, but there was something about holding a sword that sang to that childish part of him that still dreamed of Knights and Damsels in distress.

He also could barely wait to ride his stallion – Arlan. He was a large, powerful Friesian horse with the most beautiful slate coat. Sirius had bought him for Harry for his tenth birthday – much to the protests of Remus and Arcturus. At the time, Harry had been riding for only a year, and was a far cry away from being able to ride what was the modern equivalent – in Britain, at least – of a War Horse.

Contrary to his expectations, however, Arlan was patient and took to Harry almost as much as Harry to him. At first, they had thought that he had bonded to the horse – it wasn't uncommon, after all. Many witches and wizards bonded to several animals, of all kinds, from the lowliest toad up to and including the fiercest dragon; horses were no exception. However, the bond that formed between Harry and Arlan was different.

His bond with Clara and Hedwig was different on a number of levels. He would always know the mood of both of his companions, as they would always know his. It was a deep, instinctual understanding between them that couldn't be put into words. He loved them both deeply, fiercely, and there was little he would not do for them.

His relationship with the stallion was based on a trust that had been built through Harry tending to the horse himself. It was Harry that would brush him down. It was Harry who would clean out his stall. It was Harry who fed and watered him and had done so up until the day he had left for Hogwarts.

He would be the first to admit that he had fallen in love with riding a horse during his first visit to the Capitol and took every opportunity since to do so any time he could. If his studies were done, and his responsibilities at Blackwall taken care of, it was far more likely he could be found on the back of Arlan than on his broomstick.

He loved flying – and truly, he did – there was something artificial in the way that it was so safe. There were so many charms and runes built into the broom, that he often felt detached from the experience. There was rarely a gust of wind that would be so powerful as to cause him to make a correction. On the back of Arlan, however, he could feel the muscles of the stallion below him as he galloped – he could hear the puffs of breath as his lungs worked. He felt so alive in a way that he just couldn't with flying a broomstick.

Or, perhaps he was the most excited about Sirius's wedding? He had been exchanging letters with Sirius over the course of the year and more often than not, found himself answering the hastily written scrawl that passed for handwriting when his Godfather was stressed over something or another that pertained to his upcoming vows.

He had met the future Lady Black over the Easter Break in April. She seemed just the sort of woman to keep Sirius in line. While Sirius was, for the most part, easy going and not at all like his name implied half the time, he was still a passionate and dedicated man. Merlin, Harry was the living proof of how passionate and dedicated Sirius was – after all, he held Sirius up as someone to aspire to be – though, not all the time, he supposed.

Amelia Bones had immediately struck Harry as a stern, no-nonsense woman. While she may appear that way at first glance, she was in fact, quite warm and welcoming, with a dry wit that often he Sirius scrambling for a rebuttal.

He thought he could see himself coming to care for Amelia as much as the rest of his family. It would be nice to have an adult woman in his life that wasn't a House Elf. While he cringed at the thought of her tucking him in and reading him bedtime stories, he found himself imagining other scenarios. When he was older, he thought he could go to Sirius and ask the old dog about girls. Then, he could promptly ignore said advice and go and ask Amelia. Lispy was out of the question – she would suggest tidying their house, or something.

No – if there was something he was terribly excited about; it would be returning to Arpton Keep. It would be the longest stay in the castle they had ever done. Their trips to the Potter estate in the past had only lasted a week, this summer, though, they would be staying for three!

He had plans to take Arlan, of course, and they would be arriving directly there from Rosestone, whose Ro'rim was more easily accessible than the one in Blackwall – at least for the horse. He could imagine it now, waking up with the rest of the castle in the Lord's Chambers – breaking his fast with his family and spending his days riding and practicing with his sword.

While he doubted that he would ever truly use a sword, it was still a fun hobby and an excellent way for him to keep fit. He had seen far too many overweight witches and wizards visit Arcturus over the years – if swinging a sword around for a few hours a day and eating the dirt kept him fit, well he was all for it. Perhaps those at Arpton, who extensively used their weapons and trained with them would be willing to pass on their knowledge if he asked nicely.

"Did you say something?" Tracey asked, looking up at Harry, interrupting his train of thought. He blinked, looking back at the witch across from him.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, tilting his head a little.

"I thought I heard you say-"

Whatever Tracey was going to say was interrupted by the loud clang against one of the doors further into the corridor – the metal latch rattled noisily as dust from the stone above it lazily fell through the air.

Daphne and Hermione looked up from their books for a moment, curiously looking toward the door. Harry stood slowly and began walking towards it.

"Potter, are you stupid?" Daphne called, scrambling to her feet behind him.

"What? I'm only having a look!" Harry tried, rolling his eyes as the raven-haired Slytherin blocked his path and held him in place.

The door rattled again, though this time it was far gentler. What could possibly be making that racket? Was it some kind of creature, or perhaps a student had been trapped in there by something – but then, if it was a student, why were they simply banging the door now and not calling out for help?

Harry blinked as Tracey stepped around both himself and Daphne – her bag, much like both of theirs, had been left where she had been sat.

"Hang on, why does she get to have a look?" Neville asked, looking pointedly at the terrifying Slytherin that was preventing Harry from advancing on the door. "Doesn't seem fair."

"Because she won't go running through the door. Bloody Gryffindors." Daphne muttered, releasing her grip on Harry as she turned to look at her fellow Slytherin who was busy looking through the keyhole.

"I can see… something, I guess?" Tracey replied slowly, though she leapt back from the door a second before it rattled again, visibly bending under whatever force was striking it. Harry rushed over to help her up.

After helping Tracey back to her feet, Harry turned to look at the others, who were all staring at the door with varying expressions. Daphne was visibly wary – he could understand that. After all, whatever made that much noise obviously wasn't to be taken lightly. Hermione, ever the curious one, was obviously fighting the urge to look, and Neville it seemed was trying to visibly hold himself back from opening the door.

He sighed, looking around at his friends. "Look, it's bad enough that we're stuck here – do you really want to be caught looking at something we're not supposed to?"

"Damned if we do, damned if we don't, right?" Neville asked.

"No Longbottom," Daphne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, and shaking her head slowly. "That's not how that works…"

Tracey stepped back up to the keyhole as Harry rubbed his face tiredly. "Whatever it is, at least it's stopped moving... I think it's asleep?" She said slowly, her face contorted in confusion.

Harry wanted to take a peek even less now – whatever made that kind of racket in its sleep had no business being anywhere near himself. The last thing he wanted was some repeat of the Troll on Halloween – he still woke in a cold sweat sometimes.

"If it's asleep, it shouldn't be an issue then." Neville said, pulling his wand out and hitting the lock with a quick Alohomora before any of them could stop him. The door opened with a click and swung into the corridor a little, and Harry winced. When nothing happened, he spun on Neville.

"Neville, in all the stupid things you could have done!" He snapped, that pit of anxiety still settled deep in his stomach.

"Relax, Harry – it's asleep. We can lock it up after having a peek."

"Oh my!" Tracey gasped quietly. Harry spun on his heel and looked over at the Slytherin, who had her head poked through the door. "It's an Occamy!"

"A what?" Neville asked, hurrying to her side, and opening the door a little wider. From his position behind them, Harry caught a glimpse of the purple and teal feathers and the rich, turquoise skin.

"It's a Far Eastern serpent. It has a beak, and two wings. Their shells are made of pure silver!"

"You're joking!" Daphne gasped; she too had joined the pair at the door. "It's gorgeous!"

Harry and Hermione, it seemed, were the only ones sensible enough to stay away from the door – although, he would be the first to admit to his growing curiosity. Hermione was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet at his side. He rolled his eyes and finally stepped over to the door – his bushy-haired friend following him immediately.

He suppressed a gasp of his own now that the door was almost entirely open to accommodate them all. It was huge – easily fifteen long and coiled throughout the room. It appeared the banging, upon first glance, was a result of one of its wings twitching – which had obviously shifted a little, judging by the fact it was still twitching and not threatening to break the door down.

Its large head, and what he could see of its wicked looking beak, was tucked comfortably under that very same wing. Harry gulped a little.

"Say, Tracey – how do you know about this?" Neville asked after a moment.

Tracey shrugged. "I like exotic animals. Not as much as you like plants, mind."

"Is that a trap door?" Hermione asked, pointing to a dark patch that was just a little darker than the rest of the floor.

"Looks like it." Daphne sighed, rubbing her temples. "No – we're not going to open it, Neville."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were thinking it!"

"But I didn't say anything!"

"Shut up, before you wake it up!" Harry whispered, pointing between his two friends. He rubbed at his forehead. "How did it get in here?"

"Oh, that's easy – it was placed in here. Occamies can change their size, depending on the space." Tracey replied happily, her hands clasped comfortably at the small of her back and a small smile on her face.

"Where did you read all of this?" Neville asked slowly, leaning into the room a little more.

"Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, of course."

"Of course it was a Newt Scamander book." Daphne sighed, nudging her fellow Slytherin with her elbow playfully. Tracey stuck her tongue out.

"It's perfectly safe while it's asleep – just don't step on its tail, I guess." Tracey smiled, stepping into the room a little.

"Tracey-" Harry whispered, reaching out to grab her a moment too late. And she had the audacity to mock Gryffindors for not thinking things through? He was going to murder her, and no jury would ever find him at fault.

"She's positively Gryffindor – I love it." Neville grinned, following the girl into the room slowly.

Then, against all his previous assumptions, it was Hermione that went next. If Hermione was stepping into a room with a potentially dangerous creature, then he was positive the end-days were upon them. Merlin, why couldn't they have just stayed at the end of the corridor – the girls could have continued reading their books and he and Neville would have kept chatting about the Summer.

"I'm going to bloody kill them." He muttered, stepping past Daphne. He would drag them back to the door kicking and screaming if he had to. He wasn't about to become Occamy food with only a week of the term left.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Tracey whispered, easily stepping over or around the coiled length of the serpent.

"Tracey, you bloody-"

"Language!" Hermione whispered furiously back.

"Seriously? You're picking now to correct me for swearing? Don't you think it's a bit redundant?" Harry whispered in response, gesturing to the creature in the room.

Hermione looked ready to say something, but Neville's excited whoop, followed by a quiet click echoed in the room. The Occamy twitched but didn't wake – thank Merlin.

Harry's head snapped to Neville, who was holding the trap door open proudly and looking in. Daphne quietly stormed up to him and cuffed him over the back of the head. "I told you not to think about doing that!"

"Aren't you the least bit curious?"

They were all gathered around the trap door now, crouching low to peer into the darkness when he heard the dull crunch of broken eggshell under one of their boots. His head shot up to look at the Occamy, who's eye had snapped open – the large, glossy hazel eye looking directly at him.

"Bollocks, everyone down the trap door – now!" He yelled, pushing Hermione, who disappeared with a shocked squeak. Tracey was second, then Neville, and then himself – Daphne having taken the trap door out of Neville's hand as she had stormed over to him.

There was a burst of movement behind him from the large creature, and a pained scream. His heart leapt into his throat the same moment he landed on a bed of tangled vines, bouncing twice as he did.

Daphne was a moment later, grasping at her shoulder and groaning incoherently. Harry didn't need to look any closer to know that the Occamy had caught Daphne with the tip of its beak. He just hoped it wasn't too bad.

Harry looked around in the darkness – there was a little light, but not much. He moved his hand, only to find one of the vines wrap itself tightly around his wrist. Even through the long sleeve of his doublet, it felt slimy and disgusting. He tried not to think about the fact he was sitting on a whole bed of them.

"Something just grabbed my leg!" Tracey yelled in the dark.

"Harry Potter, you pushed me!" Hermione snapped, blowing her long hair from her face before slapping him on the arm.

"Oh, I'm sorry – would you have preferred to have been eaten by an Occamy?"

"That's beside the point!" Hermione snapped. "You had no idea what was down here!"

"Better than being up there." Harry muttered to himself, his eyes darting back to Daphne, who was still groaning and clutching her shoulder.

"Oh, I know what this is!" Neville yelled excitedly. "It's Devil's Snare!"

"It's what?" Tracey asked, confused. "That doesn't sound ominous at all."

"Oh, like a fifteen-foot Occamy sounds perfectly safe?"

"Right, listen here Longbottom-"

"Shut up!" Harry yelled, squirming against the vines that continued to wrap themselves around him. If he was going to die, strangled by a bloody plant, he would do it without hearing his friend's bicker. "Daphne's hurt and I refuse to die while you two are arguing."

"Oh, we won't die." Neville shrugged. "You just have to relax."

"Oh, real comforting Neville." Tracey muttered, continuing to jostle against the slimy vines.

"Seriously – watch."

Harry watched as Neville stilled his body before sinking through the tangled mass. At first glance, Harry had thought the plant had finally decided to swallow him whole before his voice called up from beneath him.

"Tracey – go still and I'll catch you. It's a bit of a hard landing otherwise."

Harry, who gone completely still, regretted it the moment the vines let him pass through. He landed in a heap next to Neville and felt the air leave his lungs in a deep wheeze. Not a moment later, he had the air knocked from him a second time when Hermione landed on top of him. The two lay there for a moment, groaning, and trying to suck in what air they had been robbed of.

A pair of feet appeared in his peripheral vision – Tracey's, no doubt.

"Told you the landing was less than desirable." Neville muttered from somewhere behind her.

"You're an arse." Harry groaned, moaning a little as Hermione pulled herself off of him. She could have been a little gentler.

"I think you're right – I definitely preferred you catching me to this. Merlin, Harry – you look pathetic."

"Eat shit." He muttered, pushing himself up. "You didn't have someone land on you."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Hermione demanded, rounding on him just as Neville caught Daphne.

"That it's not fun having someone land on you." He groused, propping himself up against the stone wall. He briefly glanced up and noted the drop must have been at least six feet – frankly it was a wonder they hadn't cracked their heads or hurt their backs.

Hermione sniffed before turning to where Neville was gently lowering Daphne to the floor. The small corridor they seemed to be in was slightly better lit than it had been above them, though, not by much; the orange light coming from fluorescent orange lichen that lined the walls.

Daphne was sweating but otherwise seemed coherent. The leather of the coat on her left shoulder was torn, and the tear looked like it continued down her back some ways. "Harry, help me get this off." Neville grunted, using a quick cutting charm to avoid moving her.

Harry kneeled next to Daphne and with a few quick flicks of his wand, sections of the coat began falling away. There was a pained hiss when they finally had to sit Daphne up to remove the last little bit, but at the very least they could see the extent of the damage.

Harry could also see that her doublet looked wet and sticky.

"Does anyone have any Dittany?" Harry asked, looking at his friends. Hermione and Tracey shook their head, but Neville pulled a small glass vial from his coat.

"I keep some on hand – some plants have a habit of biting." He shrugged. "The doublet needs to come off – Daphne, are you wearing a tunic underneath?"

The girl nodded quickly as her eyes fluttered and her heavy panting continued. Her legs, which were stretched out in front of her, writhed a little as the boys jostled the wound.

"Okay… Tracey, Hermione – can the two of you get her doublet off and drip this into the wound? It needs to go the full length of it." Neville said, looking at the two girls. They both nodded and found themselves switching places. Harry and Neville turned their backs on the three girls, wands out and, at least, looked ready; it was only proper and all.

"Throw us the doublet once it's off and we'll make a sling for her." Harry called over his shoulder, scanning the dimly lit corridor, and trying not to fiddle with his wand. Luckily for Daphne, she had been caught in the left shoulder, which meant she could still use her wand if she had to.

Daphne let out a pained yell just before Harry found the doublet hitting him in the back of the head. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but think it had been Hermione who had thrown it, and her aim hadn't been off.

He grumbled as he pulled the doublet over his shoulder. With a few slices, he had a strip of cloth that was long enough to be fashioned into a sling – he wouldn't be able to tie it until Daphne's wound had been seen to.

There was a muffled scream, and the scraping of boots on the stone floor before it became eerily quiet. Harry's heart was in his throat – never in his life had he expected to hear those sounds from Daphne of all people.

Daphne, the toughest of all three of them, had never so much as sniffled from some bump or scraped knee. Even when she'd fallen from her broom last Summer, she had simply sat back up, made a passing comment of how stupid they had been, and that was that.

To know that she was in agony behind him – it was almost too much to handle.

"Okay, I think it's done." Tracey muttered; her voice strained.

The two of them turned around and stepped up to the three girls. Daphne was in her usual ice-blue tunic, and slumped forward against Tracey. Harry winced as he glanced at Daphne's back. It was a long and thin cut, from her shoulder to the small of her back, no doubt agonizingly painful. The Dittany didn't help with the pain either, it was a restorative unguent, not a pain reliever.

Despite that, the cut now looked several days old and was, thankfully, no longer bleeding. Even in the light of the lichen, Daphne looked pale and exhausted. He wasn't even sure if she would have a scar. No doubt the Occamy's beak was sharp, but it seemed Daphne had been caught with the very tip – barely wider than his own, almost faded lightning scar.

"Will she be alright?"

"She will be – I just need a moment." Daphne groaned, hissing as Harry rushed to place her arm in a sling. The less her shoulder moved, the better. The surface wound might have been healed by the Dittany, but there was no guarantee that it had repaired the soft tissue.

"This was stupid." He muttered to himself, frowning as he tied the knot around Daphne's good shoulder.

"Stop frowning, Potter – makes you look less pretty." Daphne sighed, tugging on a strand of hair that had come loose at the side of his head.

"She's got a point." Neville muttered, running a hand down his face.

"Don't you bloody start." Harry groused, frowning at his best friend. When the two had met, Neville had been timid and cautious – when had that boy been replaced with the fool before him, who ran into dangerous, heedless of the consequences?

"I can hear your frown, Harry." Neville sighed, glancing back at him. Harry felt his expression soften immediately when he saw the pained look on his best friend's face. "I was bored, but I never wanted this."

"It makes everything startlingly real, doesn't it?" Hermione asked quietly, looking at Harry oddly. He nodded slowly – no doubt she was reminded of the last time any of them were hurt. His escapade with the Troll.

He looked at the girl before him, in her sweat drenched tunic and her pale skin. Had he looked somewhat similar to this on Halloween? No doubt he'd looked worse – he could still hear the wet crack of his head against the wall. He grimaced a little. "Can you stand?" He asked.

Daphne nodded slowly, and Harry helped her to her feet, allowing her to lean on him as much as she needed. They had to get out of here.

"Where to now?" Neville asked, looking around.

"We have to get Daphne to Madame Pomfrey – Harry, can you call Clara?" Hermione asked, her voice hopeful.

"Not unless you want to catch on fire – the area isn't big enough. If we can find a large chamber, I could try then."

The group nodded and looked around the small tunnel they were in. It was rough, wet stone that looked more at home inside a cave than inside the school. There was a door a little ways down from where they had landed – an ancient, rotten gathering of planks that barely resembled a door at that.

"I guess we go through that then." Tracey muttered. "Is it too late to remind everyone to be careful?"

Harry snorted and threw Daphne's good arm over his shoulder, letting her lean against him. They moved slowly, setting the pace to Daphne's liking more than their own. Even now, after the Dittany, she felt cold and clammy to his touch. If there was ever a sight from this year he never wanted to see again – it was this.

He could manage his own injuries well enough – but seeing his friends hurt had always cut through him. He sighed as the door opened with nary a push from Tracey. It revealed a similar tunnel to the one that they were in, continuing off into the gloom until it rounded a bend. There was more of the odd, glowing lichen, seeming to be guiding them ever onward.

"We must be below the dungeons." Neville muttered into the silence. Not even the dripping of water echoed along the corridor.

"That's impossible – we were on the third floor." Tracey grumbled from the front, one hand carefully braced against the wall and her eyes trained on where she placed her feet. Harry didn't blame her, the floor looked slick – a slip could be quite painful.

"What if we fell further than we thought?" Hermione suggested, carefully stepping over a large protrusion on the floor.

"It's not unreasonable, I suppose." Harry grunted, helping Daphne around that same protrusion. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. There was a definite sense of walking down rather than up, which wasn't filling him with any particular sense of confidence.

"I was going to say because of the Lichen. It's Mo'zarde Lichen – it only grows underground. I thought it looked familiar."

"Of course you'd know about a plant that glows in the dark." Harry snorted, causing the rest of them to chuckle.

"Are you complaining about the light as well Potter?"

"Not really, no."

"Then stop complaining. I bet you just assumed that all moss glowed. Honestly, you've no appreciation for the more subtle parts of life."

"You think this lichen is subtle?"

"Of course – why wouldn't it be?"

"Never change, Neville."

They continued in silence after that – occasionally stopping for a few minutes to let Daphne rest before carrying on. Eventually, the floor began to level out and they came to a door with a pair of stone statues on either side of it, the corridor having opened into something that seemed like an antechamber.

The stone walls, floor, and ceiling were smooth and unblemished, an odd sight considering that the corridor they had just left been so roughly cut and covered in lichen. The two statues stood at attention on either side of the large door, hewn from similar stone as everything else in the chamber, which was draped in chains. His eyes couldn't help but linger on the massive swords in the statues' hands, pointed down and pressed into the stone floor in front of their feet.

"Something isn't right." Harry muttered, eyeing the statues carefully.

"They look too clean." Hermione agreed in a whisper, though, in the silence of the chamber, that whisper may as well have been a scream. If he weren't with his friends and worried about Daphne's injury, he might have gone mad. The quiet had creeped up on him, slowly edging his anxiety to new heights. He hadn't consciously noticed, but everything had been muffled as they approached this chamber. His heart was a drum beat to which he marched and his blood roared in his ears.

"Who comes before us?"

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once, shattering the maddening silence, and Harry found his head turning to search the corridor. When his head turned to look at the door once more, he caught sight of the two cobalt orbs in the visors of the helmets of the guards. He couldn't help but shrink under their stare.

"We fell down through the Devil's Snare and we're looking for a way out." Tracey answered – even from the corner of his eye, he could see her nervously backing away from the two statues.

"Is there a way out through that door?" Neville asked, glancing over at Daphne. "One of our friends was hurt and she needs help."

There was silence for a moment.

"One question you may ask, then you must perform the task."

"Why didn't they answer the question?" Asked Tracey, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why are they talking so strange? Seems a bit excessive for a couple of lumps of rock." Neville said, slightly louder than Tracey, still eyeing the pair of statues.

Hermione sighed next to him. "We get to ask one question, and then we have to do whatever task they demand of us. Honestly, were none of you listening?"

Harry rolled his eyes at the shrugs from Neville and Tracey, and thought he heard the faintest snort from Daphne. "Okay, so going from the fact it ignored the question about an exit, I assume it can't or won't tell us."

"It's unlikely." Hermione agreed with a single nod as she began to worry at her bottom lip.

"What happens if we fail your task?" Tracey asked, turning to the statues. Harry saw that her gaze was focused entirely on the sharp blades they held.

"Death."

"Oh, excellent – no pressure then." Neville grunted. "Really lifts the mood, that does."

They all stumbled back a pace, with Daphne hissing her displeasure, as the statues took a step forward and brought their blades up in a ready position. Harry heard Tracey's terrified moan. If they failed, there was no escape for them – the chamber led to a dead end beneath the Devil's Snare, and none of them knew any combat spells.

Oh, they could cast a cutting charm or a burst of flame – but what good would that do against stone? Besides, Harry had no doubt in his mind that they would be dead before finishing the incantation let alone the wand movement.

When the statues didn't move further, he felt himself releasing a shaky breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"It's best if you use me, but do keep me cool and especially don't lose me, because without me you're useless. What am I?"

"It's a riddle!" Hermione gasped, her brow furrowing as she concentrated on the words.

"Well I'm useless then." Neville muttered.

Tracey patted him on the arm. "Self-awareness is the first indicator of intelligence."

Neville muttered darkly to himself, but Harry kept his focus on Hermione. If there was one of them he thought would answer it correctly – it was her.

"Your head?" She asked quietly after a minute of pacing back and forth. Harry's heart found its way into his throat as the statues moved once more.

When they didn't bring their swords down on Neville and Tracey, who were the closest to them, Harry felt his shoulders sag in relief. Instead, the statues took a step back and returned to their original flanking positions by the door. The chains that criss-crossed the door retreated into the stone on either side, as if they had never been there in the first place.

Neville went first, taking each step slowly until he was between the two guardians. When his hand touched the wood, the door swung open easily to reveal a wide room. Harry followed Tracey and Hermione, though just as he was helping Daphne through, the voice returned.

"Beware the one who came before, searching for a treasure and more."

Harry was just about to ask what they meant when the door closed abruptly, locking them inside.

Unlike the corridor, this room was large and cavernous, with huge pillars of stone that stretched as high as he could see. All around the room, scones of balls of light illuminated their surroundings, casting large shadows across the floor and walls.

Before them, was a large set of square tiles, each with a different rune in the centre. Harry recognised another trap when he saw it.

"Clara!" He called into the chamber. He waited a number of minutes before calling again. There was no response. He groaned – this wasn't what he'd expected when he'd woken up this morning.

"Well, that's a first." Neville muttered, looking around the room for the tell-tale burst of flame.

"We'll just have to carry on and try again when we can." Tracey sighed. "Anyone any good with Runes?"

They shook their heads, but Daphne stood a little under her own weight. "I've been reading them since last Summer." She murmured. Even now, as she pulled her arm from around Harry's neck, she was visibly trembling and swaying from side to side.

The chamber wasn't a long one, perhaps only twenty metres or so, with each tile being around a meter on each side. If death was the result of failure of getting a riddle correct, he didn't want to imagine what failing this would be.

"Lift me up so I can see to the other side." Daphne grunted. With a swish and a flick of Harry wand, he slowly levitated her into the air. He held her there for some time, allowing her to see the entirety of the floor before them. She eventually gave a small wave and he brought her back down.

"What did you see?" Neville asked, helping her back to her own feet, and caught her as her knees buckled under her weight.

"This rune here," She sighed tiredly, pointing to a tile that was to their right. Harry noted it was a three-pronged stick with a triangle stuck to its side half-way up. "It's a rune of protection. It's the only one I saw that went all the way across."

"Neville – can you carry her?" Harry asked, before his best friend nodded. "Right then, Neville you go first, and we'll follow you."

Neville scooped up Daphne, who muttered in protest before she curled in on herself little. Harry felt his jaw clench at the sight of her – there were no protestations, and no threats of violence for doing such a thing. She must have been in more pain than they'd realised.

Harry watched as Neville stepped onto the first tile, and the next. Tracey went second with Hermione right behind her. Hermione paused before the second tile and glanced back at him; her brown eyes filled with worry. "Don't worry – I'm right behind you." Harry smiled, but he didn't think it was as reassuring as he'd hoped it would be.

She nodded and took the step onto the next tile. The path wasn't linear, and by the time Harry stepped onto the stone platform on the far side of the room, he'd travelled the length and width of the chamber.

"Can you keep carrying her?" He asked, looking at Neville. Despite his chubby cheeks, Neville was one of the strongest boys he knew – he regularly picked Harry up as if he weighed nothing, but with everything going on, he didn't want to risk Neville dropping Daphne.

"Aye, she's lighter than she looks. I'll let you know if she's getting too heavy." Neville nodded, shifting his hands just a little.

Harry nodded and took the lead, making his way up the stone stairs that led to another door – this one, thankfully, wasn't wrapped in chains. It opened with a single push and bounced off of the wall with a dull thud.

The chamber they stepped into was similar to the one they had just left, but for the gaping ten metre pit in the middle of it that stretched from wall to wall.

"Who designed this place? It's a death trap!" Tracey muttered, kicking a stone over the edge once they approached it. They listened to it bounce off of the walls, but never so much as heard it hit the bottom. They all grimaced as they looked at one another.

"How are we supposed to get over there?" Hermione asked, looking around. "There's no way across."

Harry cast his eyes around the chamber. While there were more balls of the silver-white lights, there wasn't anything helpful laying around, like there often were in the stories he'd read as a child. Just a room bisected with a gaping chasm.

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, despite how grimy they felt. Hermione seemed no better, with her skirt and tights covered in whatever had coated the floor when she had landed on him.

Gods, how long had they even been down here?

He watched as Hermione snorted and got a determined look in her eye. Her gaze swept the small piles of sand, dust, and dirt dotted about on the floor. She scooped a small pile into her hand and threw it into the chasm before them – she looked oddly satisfied.

Harry's eyes tracked the scattered particles as they gently fell through the air, swirling on the current as they went. Tension built across his shoulders the further they dropped into the chasm – he winced, full expecting the floor to drop from beneath his feet or the ceiling to come crashing down.

Nothing happened.

"Sorry." She said sheepishly at their incredulous stares. "Saw it in a movie once and I've always wanted to try it."

"A what?" Asked Neville, still looking as confused as Harry felt.

"A movie Neville," groused Hermione, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "A Muggle thing."

"We could levitate one another across, I suppose?" Tracey suggested after a long silence, looking between her wand and the chasm. Harry cocked a brow at that – would that work?

"How far is the gap, do you think?" He asked, trying to judge it for himself. "Hermione had to have gotten some of her idea over there with her throw."

"About fifteen metres or so." Neville muttered, looking between the chasm and Daphne. "Would it be one at a time, or would you be able to manage Daphne and I at the same time?"

"It'll be tough, doing you both." Hermione sighed, shifting from foot to foot. It seemed none of them were terribly excited about being levitated across what amounted to a bottomless pit.

"Hermione and I will go first, then we'll bring Neville and Daphne, and then you Tracey." Harry nodded.

They all nodded, and Harry stood next to the edge of the gorge and felt his heart race wildly in his chest. Merlin, they'd better not get the spell wrong. It was a long way down.

He gave a startled yelp as the feeling of weightlessness took over, and he looked over his shoulder. Both Neville and Tracey were pointing their wands at him and Hermione, who was in the air next to him. As they began to move over the chasm, Hermione's hand snatched out and grabbed his left – he winced as she crushed it, and her nails dug into his skin. He squeezed back and tried not to look down.

Their feet touched the stone platform on the far side, and both of them dropped to their knees and fell forward. There were no words as they knelt there, panting, and simply basking in the feel of the stone beneath them. It had been a strange feeling, to have the world disappear beneath his feet, and not one that he had any desire to replicate any time soon.

"I'm never doing that again." Hermione panted. Harry looked at her, noting the slight sheen of sweat on her brow and the way her limbs trembled uncontrollably. Of course, he'd completely forgotten – Hermione's fear of heights! He grimaced and reached over to squeeze her hand.

"We got through it – you're fine now."

Hermione nodded weakly before she collapsed back on her arse. Her hair had been hiding her face for the most part, and Harry saw the shininess in her eyes as she fought back her tears. Immediately, Harry scrambled over to her, ignoring how the stone cut into his knees and palms, and pulled her into a hug.

He rocked her back and forth for a minute, whispering soothing words into her hair as she clung to him. He wouldn't hold her tears against her – she had been forced to experience her greatest fear. If there had been any doubt as to how she had ended up in the House of the Brave, the last few minutes had washed them away.

After all, he still remembered his biggest fear – that overwhelming sense of helplessness as he had crouched behind that boulder at the side of the road, watching as Sirius and Remus fought against those men in their patchwork armour. That moment when he had felt that arm circle around his neck and the wand-tip digging into his skin, that was what had truly terrified him – that feeling of helplessness, of those men and women having died for nothing. The idea of letting Sirius and Remus down.

He shook himself and drew in a shuddering breath. He looked down at Hermione, who was sniffing quietly into his doublet. "Come on, we should get the others."

Hermione nodded and pushed herself to her feet, jutting her jaw a little as she focused on the task ahead. If there was one person Harry was glad to have helping him bring the others over, it was Hermione. Sure, Neville and Daphne were powerful, and Tracey had her own impressive well of power to draw from, but none of them had the single-minded focus and determination of Hermione.

As the two of them turned to face their friends across from them, he reached out and grasped her hand with his own.

"Ready?"

"Ready." She replied, squeezing his hand and wiping at her eyes with her sleeve.

With perfectly synchronised incantations, the two of them slowly levitated their friends over the abyss. Harry had a firm hold of Daphne, his magic buoying her as gently as it could. Even from here, he could feel how exhausted she was and how she was using her magic to lessen the agony she was in.

Hermione had Neville, who was squirming a little and staring at the two of them with wide eyes. When Hermione settled Neville down, he immediately scrambled away from the edge. He held Daphne above the floor and looked at her as she blinked slowly. "Do you want to stand?" Daphne nodded, and so he set her down carefully.

At the very least, she seemed to be standing by herself for now. If it got any worse again, he'd get Neville to pick her up again.

He turned to look at Tracey and cast the spell for a final time, moving her quicker than he had moved Daphne. Tracey's legs kicked the air and she squeaked before covering her eyes. She too, scrambled from the edge as soon as she touched the floor.

He looked around at everyone and breathed a sigh of relief. "Everyone okay?"

Shaky nods and queasy smiles answered his question. He glanced up the stairs at the large double doors. Like the others, there was nothing particularly noteworthy about them, except that these seemed exceptionally large.

In the end, it took both he and Neville pushing on one door to get it to open, and even then, it barely moved enough to allow them through.

The room was somewhat similar to the previous two, in that it was a square chamber with a dozen or more stone pillars wiling the walls. In the centre was a recessed area, thankfully no chasm or maze of runes, with a trio of steps leading down into it. In the middle of the recess was a huge mound of rubble, looking about the room, he couldn't see where the rubble had come from.

"Clara!" He called again after walking some ways into the room, and like the last time, there was no answer.

Harry stepped into the centre of the room, his wand in-hand as he looked around. There was a low rumble as the rock started shifting. Neville was at his side immediately, his own wand drawn. What he thought they were going to do was utterly beyond him. Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Daphne leaning against a pillar as the two girls joined them.

"Who disturbs my slumber?"

The boulder began to rise as tendrils of magic began weaving themselves along the surface in intricate patterns – even outright holding pieces of rock in place at some parts. The deep crimson glow of its eyes cast long shadows around the room.

"Morgana's tits – that's a bloody Golem!" Neville swore. All their faces were turned upwards as it stood on thick legs, towering above them. It must have been ten feet tall!

"Who are these I see before me?"

"We're Hogwarts students and we fell in here – we're looking for a way out! Our friend is hurt!" Neville replied, pointing at Daphne at the back of the room.

"Intruders? The Stone must remain protected!"

"Intruders? I just said-" Neville began, only to be caught in the chest with a large piece of rock. Harry watched as his friend went careening through the air, bounced off of a pillar and landed in a crumpled heap.

"Run!" Harry yelled, leaping to the side as the Golem smashed a fist into the floor, cracking the tiles beneath it.

Harry leapt up the steps and cast a quick Incendio over his shoulder. The small bust of flame did little to the rock, other than to blacken the grey stone, but it succeeded in pulling its attention away from Tracey, who was the last up the stairs.

He ducked and leapt behind the nearest column as a physical lance of crimson magic speared the stone. He scrambled behind the stone and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked to his right and caught Daphne by the door pulling Neville behind another pillar.

"Is he alright?" He yelled, ducking, and covering his head as another lance of magic struck the pillar.

"I'm a little busy right now, Potter!" Tracey yelled – she had ducked behind the pillar closest to Daphne in their mad scramble, with Hermione hiding behind the pillar between the two of them. Hermione gave a terrified scream as another lance of magic struck nearby.

Harry ducked around the pillar and threw a Diffindo at the Golem. Perhaps, in a century, he'd have reduced the stone guardian to a pile of pebbles. Harry ducked back, just as another lance impacted his column, destroying it and sending shrapnel in all directions.

He cried out and stumbled backward as he covered his eyes – there was a sharp pain on the side of his face where a large chunk had bounced off. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his doublet and blinked away the blood that he could feel trickling into his eye.

"He's fine! Daphne says – bloody Merlin – that he has a few broken ribs!" Tracey yelled, covering herself when her pillar was struck again.

Harry nodded and peaked around his cover. "Incendio!" He yelled again, throwing the jet of flames across the chamber. Harry noticed that the Golem hadn't moved – perhaps it couldn't? He heard Hermione throw a Diffindo of her own before the two of them ducked again.

"Tracey! Are you going to bloody help?" Harry yelled, shrugging his coat off. There was little point in wearing it at this point – while it might protect him a little, there wasn't a chance it would do anything against the lances of magic that were in the process of shattering the new pillar he was behind.

"I'm working on it!" Tracey yelled, throwing her own spells into the fray.

Harry looked over to Hermione, who looked positively terrified behind her own pillar, with silent tears streaming down her cheeks. He understood – he felt like crying too. They had come so close to dying so many times already and this time their adversary was taking a far more active role.

They knew no spells for combat. They were first year students – they were supposed to be nose-deep in the library, not duelling a Golem that was shooting literal lances of magic at them. That in of itself was interesting – there weren't many magical applications where magic visibly manifested into a weapon.

Spells were visible, and came with their own signature, none of them appeared solid – at least, not in the way the Golem's strikes were. Was it using raw magic, or was it something else?

"Potter – what are you doing over there?" Tracey snapped, pulling him from his musing as he yanked the last sleeve off his arm. He paused for a moment as an idea struck him.

"Distract it!" He yelled, using a quick cutting charm to slice the ties that held his doublet together up his front. That too, was quickly removed, leaving him only in a sweat-stained baggy tunic, his breeches, and his boots.

"Harry, now isn't a time to be getting undressed!" Hermione scolded, swinging around, and firing off a trio of Diffindo spells while it focused on Tracey.

"I have an idea – I'm going to bring the ceiling down on it!"

"And you're going to manage that how?"

"With my coat and Doublet!" He grinned, casting a quick Wingardium Leviosa on his doublet and sent it hurtling at the Golem's face, before sending it up in the air directly above it. As he hoped, the Golem took the bait and shot a burst of magic at the article of clothing. The magic annihilated the doublet and brought a number of large chunks of stone down, some striking the Golem and tearing large parts off of it.

He quickly glanced at the coat in his left hand and repeated the charm. Once again, he launched it first at the Golem's face, and then into the air, though this time he waved it back and forth a little – if he were lucky, it would miss its first shot. He nearly yelled in joy as the Golem merely nicked part of it and took another shot to destroy the article of clothing.

It began slowly, but it quickly built into a crescendo of noise. Before he knew it, he was launching himself to the side to avoid the rubble that hammered down upon the stone around them. Large clouds of dust billowed into the air and he could hear the screams of Hermione and Tracey, but they seemed muted – distant, almost.

Eventually the avalanche of stone stopped, and he managed to pull himself to his knees. He looked about and hissed as the dust stung at the cut on his face. He regretted the action almost instantly as he doubled over and coughed. The taste of the dirt and stone was thick on his tongue, and he found himself spitting a mouthful of the foul stuff onto the floor.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice called out, panicked.

"Hermione!" He yelled back, looking around the chamber. He looked up at the huge pile of rubble he had created – it stretched the width of the room and reached all the way up to the ceiling. A piece of rubble moved, and Hermione's hand stuck through, waving.

"Harry! We're all fine, but we're trapped – can you see any gaps on your side?"

Harry looked around as he clambered up the debris and grasped her hand. He grimaced. "I don't see anything. How's Neville and Daphne?" Hermione clung to his hand like a lifeline.

"They're okay – they were the furthest away. Tracey had some rubble land on her ankle – I've only got a scrape or two."

"How bad are they?"

"Honestly, Harry – there are more important things to worry about now than some silly scrapes and bruises." Hermione sighed, and he could picture her rolling her eyes beyond the rubble.

"How's Tracey's ankle?" He asked, smiling as Hermione squeezed his hand a little.

"Daphne think's it's broken, but she's not looking good, Harry. She's really quite pale."

Harry blew out a breath and looked around the room – there was nothing he could think of that could help. He dared not move any of the rubble for fear of causing more to come tumbling down. "Clara?" It was a vain hope, but it was the only thing he could really do.

Harry winced and shielded his eyes as the burst of flame erupted just in front of him. Flapping there, her dark eyes darting about, was his faithful Phoenix. Why had she been able to come now, and not sooner? His eyes looked up at the ceiling – perhaps it had something to do with the chambers they had been in? He shook his head of these thoughts – his friends needed his help, not his theories.

His feathered friend landed on a piece of large masonry to his right and nuzzled his cheek. She trilled sadly at Hermione's hand and nipped it softly.

"Ow! Harry!"

"That wasn't me!" He grinned, the stress of the last few minutes melting from his shoulders. He suddenly felt all the bruises and cuts he'd endured over their short adventure. "It's Clara!" He grinned, watching as the Phoenix nuzzled Hermione's hand.

"Clara? You managed to call her? Harry, that's brilliant!"

"Can you get my friends to Madame Pomfrey, girl? They're on the other side of the rubble – Daphne and Neville are hurt pretty bad." Harry released Hermione's hand with a final squeeze and let her have her hand back. He watched as Clara peered through the hold before disappearing and reappearing on the far side.

"Clara!" He heard Tracey moan.

"Hermione," He called, smiling to himself as the brown-eyed girl came back into view. "When Clara takes you to Madame Pomfrey, send her to get Headmaster Dumbledore. I'll wait in the next chamber – there's too much dust this side."

"Harry, you don't know what's through there!"

"Clean air, I would hope." He grunted, coughing hard into the sleeve of his tunic. "I don't know what the dust is like on your side, but it's thick enough to cut on mine."

"Just… Be careful, Harry!" Hermione cried, clutching his hand once more, desperately squeezing it.

"I will be – after all, I think I've had my fill of excitement for this year." He grinned. He hoped he looked more confident than he felt. If this year had taught him anything, it was that trouble had a habit of finding him – or, he'd just stumble on a twelve-foot Mountain Troll and a few months later find a mirror that took a month of his life away.

"You'll be okay Harry. You're a great wizard – you really are."

Harry snorted. "Not as good as you – I seem to recall a certain witch who is top of all our classes."

Hermione snorted and even through the little gap, he could see her little smirk. "Books and cleverness. There are more important things, like friendship and bravery and – oh, do be careful." She sniffed, squeezing his hand tightly. He imagined that she would have tackled him if she weren't held back by the rubble.

"I promise." He smiled, giving her hand another squeeze before he released her hand and slid down the pile as carefully as he could, wincing as jagged pieces of stone sliced his legs and back – he regretted using his coat against the Golem now.

He landed with a bit of a stumble but remained on his feet. There was the tell-tale whoosh of Clara on the other side of the rubble and he knew he was alone. He made his way to the door, thankful that it was only a dozen steps away, and pushed it open.

The rush of clean air caused the dust in the air to swirl in intricate patterns, but Harry paid them little attention. He was through the door and slamming it shut before any of the dust could rush through. His lungs, which felt raw from all the dust, eagerly drank in as much clean as he could take in.

Before him lay a staircase of smooth stone steps, while the walls were rough stone. It seemed odd, in comparison with the previous chambers – there, the walls had been smooth granite, with intricate patterns. Here, the staircase was dark and devoid of patterning, it descended into the depths of wherever he was and out of his immediate sight.

He stumbled down the steps, keeping a hand against the wall all the while. Eventually, the further down he went, the more he could hear a voice – a familiar one at that. Of course, he'd completely forgotten about the warning of the stone guardians. Now he regretted coming through here – if he was trapped in here with He Who Came Before, he would have preferred to have suffocated in the last chamber.

He felt the familiar tug at the back of his mind as the whispers trickled their way in. He had hoped not to feel the like of it ever again – had Dumbledore simply moved it down here? Is that what all of this was guarding? A mirror that would send you mad?

He stepped into the dark room, the cold light of the small balls of magic glinting off of the surface of the mirror and the metal that held it in place. Stood before it was none other than Professor Quirrell, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Professor Quirrell?" He asked, confused. He Who Came Before was a Hogwarts professor? The stuttering man, who had jumped at his own shadow more than once.

"Ah, so the brat finally arrives." Quirrell said, turning to look at him with a stony expression. It looked so strange, that for a moment, he could have sworn he was looking at a completely different man in a purple turban.

"But you – the stone guards…" He began, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Quirrell scoffed from his spot before the mirror. "Nothing gets past you, does it boy. I'm curious – did you come to try and stop p-p-poor, s-stuttering P-Professor Q-Q-Quirrell? Or did you simply happen to stumble in here?" The professor mocked; his eyes cold.

Harry fingered his wand in his hand. He suddenly felt a lot more terrified than he had when facing the Golem. Evidently, the professor had put on a charade for the entire year, acting as a bumbling fool – had he even fooled Dumbledore? He had certainly fooled Arcturus and Sirius when they had mentioned meeting him at his first Quidditch match.

"Or perhaps you simply got lucky – such as Halloween." Quirrell sneered.

"You? You let the Troll in?"

"Very good Potter, yes. That Troll was supposed to buy me enough time to make my way down here, and keep the fools pre-occupied, but you saw to the end of that, didn't you?" The professor snarled, spinning around, and looking at the mirror. "Now, come here boy."

Harry felt a force pull him forward and into the professor's outstretched hand. He found his feet dangling as he kicked weakly, while the professor tightened his grip around his throat. Harry tried to blink the dark spot out of his vision – he didn't even have his wand; it had clattered to the floor as he had been yanked forward.

Harry tried to kick the professor, but he seemed neither bothered by his struggling, nor tired from holding him aloft – indeed, his arm hadn't so much as shaken once.

"I understand you spent some time with this mirror. Tell me how it works – I can see what I desire, but I cannot grasp it!"

Harry tried to gasp, but only succeeded in breathing in the tiniest amount of air.

"I see myself holding the stone, but how do I get it?"

"Use the boy." Another voice whispered, though to Harry it sounded as if it came from everywhere at once. Harry felt a deep, primal fear run through him and he began to struggle even more. Quirrell threw him to the floor, and he cried in pain as his knees cracked against the stone. Before he could do anything, he felt a hand grasp his hair and tilt his head back. He grimaced and glared at the man.

"Tell me, what do you see?"

Harry had no desire to look into the mirror ever again. He had no desire to become a mindless drone, going through the days with a cold detachment. He had heard how he had been in the month he had been under its thrall. He had appeared perfectly normal, though with the deep bags under his eyes that had remained for weeks afterwards. Tracey had claimed it had been as if the lights had been on, but nobody was home.

He felt the tug in his mind again. "I see… My family. My parents – a brother and a sister."

"Useless!" Quirrell screamed, smashing his head against the cold glass. "Look again!"

This time, when he was pulled back, he could see the spiderwebbing in the glass where his head had impacted – even the small smears of blood.

"I told you, you twat, I just see my family!"

"He lies!" The voice called once more.

"Tell me the truth – what do you see?" Quirrell screamed, kneeling before Harry. Harry took that moment to spit in Quirrell's face – the saliva striking him in the eye. He grunted as he was backhanded for his defiance. Harry landed in a head on the floor, his head ringing and stars flittering across his vision.

"Let me speak to him!"

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell called into the dark room. Harry groaned and rolled over, scrambling towards his wand, which had rolled a few feet away. By the time Harry turned to point the wand back at Quirrell, the professor was facing the mirror, still as a statue and he had torn his turban from his head.

The bald scalp of Quirrell morphed and writhed, as if there were something under the skin trying to burst forth. Harry felt his stomach churn as a face took form.

"Harry Potter – we meet again."

That primal fear burned in his gut once more, and Harry's limbs began to tremble. There was only one wizard that he would have met that could have been lain so low as to possess another being

Only one.

"Voldemort." Harry breathed – before him stood what remained of the wizard who had waged a war against the Ministry and had been winning. It seemed not even death could stop him – and here he was, a boy of eleven, stuck in a chamber with him.

"Yes… Can you see what I have become? What I must do to survive?"

Harry did the only thing he could think to do – he turned and ran.

"Stop him!" Voldemort spat. Harry glanced over his shoulder and watched as Quirrell's wand shot into his hand, and in a sweeping motion, flame erupted around the room, cutting off his escape. He cursed.

"Bollocks." He swore, flicking his wand around at Quirrell – if he was stuck in a room with Voldemort, he wasn't going to sit and wait to be butchered. "Diffindo!"

Quirrell batted the spell aside with a quick flick of his wrist, while Harry leapt behind a pillar. Voldemort cackled venomously.

"Incendio! Diffindo! Incendio!" Harry yelled, sending the trio of spells across the room, swinging out from behind the pillar just long enough to throw them before ducking behind it again. These pillars weren't as thick and sturdy as the ones with the Golem, and he cursed his luck.

The pillar directly above his head exploded, the force of it knocking him forward. A second later, he felt something rip through his side and he screamed.

The mocking laughter of Voldemort was all he heard as he felt his blood trickle between his fingers. Harry groaned as he stumbled to his feet. He would die on his feet, looking him in the eye – he wouldn't look away. He would meet his parents proudly – his only regret was that he had broken his promise to Hermione.

Quirrell raised his wand once more, the words on the tip of his tongue as Harry snapped off one last Diffindo.

He wasn't sure what had happened. One moment, Harry had been looking at Quirrell, and the next there had been an incredible explosion. He had been knocked onto his back by the force of it, sliding between a pillar that had toppled over and a small raised platform. The next thing he knew, the ceiling came down all around him as the world went black.