Here we are, the build-up coming to a head.
Harry couldn't sit down. He paced up and down in front of the fire. He was still shaking. The trio had called me over by owl, and when the perturbed animal tapped at my bedroom window I sighed. The note read that I should 'head for the Gryffindor common room immediately', and they filled me in on Harry and Hermione's detention. As well as the conversation they heard between Snape and Quirrell.
"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort. . . And Voldemort's waiting in the forest. . . And all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich. . . " Harry muttered.
"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear us.
Harry wasn't listening.
"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so. . . Bane was furious. . . he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen. . . They must show that Voldemort's coming back. . . Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me. . . I suppose that's written in the stars as well. "
"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.
"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off. . . Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy. "
Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort.
"Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of, with Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic. "
The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. I had nothing helpful to add. We went to bed exhausted, the three of their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.
When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:
Just in case.
Exams came up soon. It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where we did written papers. We had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anticheating spell.
We had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called us one by one into his class to see if we could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. I may have overdone it with the transfigured tutu. Professor McGonagall watched us turn a mouse into a snuffbox - points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was but taken away if it had whiskers. I made mine royal purple with copper fastenings. Snape made us all nervous, breathing down our necks while we tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. I think I did alright, though I don't recall much. Our very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and we'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results came out.
"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as we joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager. "
Hermione always liked to go through the exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so we wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of the giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. I decided to join them. I waved my wand and feathers shot out but didn't quite go where I intended.
All three boys fell to the ground laughing hysterically, rolling to get away from the twitching feathers.
"Sorry." I shrugged sheepishly. They waved me off, though Lee made the suggestion of chasing me with feathers of their own. The twins seemed to consider it, then remembered the last time I ran away into the forest from a joke. They shook their heads and Lee pouted, but only for a moment.
"So how do you think you did?" George poked my side.
"Eh." I wobbled my hand. "I don't remember how I did on my Forgetfulness potion, I think I did okay on the others."
Fred cackled. "You must have dripped your potion stir spoon on yourself. I'd say you did well."
My face heated up. "I didn't think of that."
George reach over and ruffled my hair. "Of course not. I don't know what traits the hat chose for House Black, but I'm sure smarts wasn't one of them." His wink softened his words, but I still took the opportunity to take offense.
"George! How dare you say such a thing! Fred, tell George I'm never speaking to him again."
Fred dutifully turned with a smirk on his face. "George, Leo is never speaking to you again."
George rolled his eyes, and I took that as a challenge. From that point on I wouldn't speak to or even acknowledge George until he begged.
After a few hours, George had realized I was serious, and tried all kinds of things to trick me into talking to him, but I wouldn't even look in his direction. Turning instead to Fred and saying things like, "The wind sure is howling today."
Fred, of course, thought this was hilarious and would warn me when his twin was sneaking up, lest I shout at him in surprise.
It wasn't until the next morning when I realized the young Gryffindor trio had done something stupid. Really stupid. They had gone into the third-floor corridor alone. I had gone straight to the headmaster's office to shout and squawk my protest. It was dangerous! They could have all died! Why did no one stop them?!
Dumbledore endured my ranting with an amused smile, before telling me I should get the true story of it from my friends.
Ron began telling the tale even as we walked down to the hospital wing to visit Harry. How they thought Snape had gone for the Stone and found Fluffy lulled to sleep by an enchanted harp. How they had jumped down a trap door only to be entrapped by Devil's Snare. Once they had freed themselves, Harry had chased a flying key on a rickety old broom, and through the locked door was a massive Wizard's Chess set.
Ron's dramatic telling of how he sacrificed himself to get the others across honestly frightened me. These guys had no sense of self-preservation.
Then Hermione took over the story. She and Harry had been faced with a riddle, and clever girl, of course, she solved it. But only one could go forward, so she had sent Harry on ahead, and she ran back to fetch help.
By this point, we had arrived at the hospital wing and were allowed to see Harry, "So long as you don't work him up. This poor boy needs rest!"
I fixed Harry with a stern look, but it quickly crumbled into laughter at his sheepish face.
"Come on then, I've heard these two's side, what happened after Hermione went for help?"
And so Harry recounted how it wasn't Snape after all. It wasn't even Voldemort. Not completely anyway. It was Quirrell. The professor had Voldemorts consciousness attached to the back of his skull, hidden under his garlic stuffed turban all along.
Quirrell had jinxed Harry's broom at the first Quidditch match, and let the troll in on Halloween.
But Dumbledore had the brilliant idea of using the Mirror of Erised as the final obstacle.
Harry explained the old wizard had already been in this morning. Apparently only one who wanted to find the Stone, but not use it, would be granted access to it.
Quirrell had tried to choke Harry, to convince him to give up the Stone's location, but had reeled back as if burned. But Voldemort was insistent. Told him to kill Harry.
Harry explained that he knew if he wanted to stay alive, he must keep tight hold of Quirrell, burn him so as not to let him spout off a curse... And then everything went black for a moment.
When his vision returned, Dumbledore was there. He had explained to Harry that a mother's love was the most powerful magic, and poor Lily Potter, in sacrificing herself for her son, placed a protection charm on him so strong it defeated Voldemort.
Mister Nicolas Flamel had agreed that the Stone be destroyed, Voldemort was cast from Quirrell's body into who knows where, and all was well. For now...
Madam Pomfrey appeared and threw us out, but Harry said he'd be down for the end-of-the-year feast.
The Great Hall was absolutely swimming in silver and green that night. A massive banner with a coiled snake hung behind the head table. A hush fell over the students when Harry walked in, and I rolled my eyes as the whispers returned ten-fold. I waved at the poor boy when he caught my eye, and it seemed to cheer him up as he sat between Ron and Hermione.
Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived, and the babble died away.
"Another year gone!" The great wizard announced, as though we hadn't noticed. "And I must trouble you all with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into this delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully, your heads are all a little fuller than they were... You have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts.
"Now as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fifth place, Black, with two hundred and seven points; in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six, and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."
A storm of cheers and stamping broke out at the Slytherin table. Cousin Draco was banging his goblet on the table.
"Yes, yes. Well done Slytherin." Said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
The room went deadly still. Smiles at the green table dimmed a little.
"Ahem," Dumbledore continued. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see... Yes. First, to Miss Leo Black, for incredible loyalty and support of her friends in adversity... I award House Black fifty points."
I turned bright red as everyone turned to look at me, the twins sending beaming smiles. Even George, who I still hadn't spoken too in three days now.
"Second," Dumbledore wasn't done. "To Mister Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."
Gryffindor cheers seem to shake the bewitched ceiling, and Percy Weasley could be heard bragging to the other prefects how his brother beat McGonagall's chess set. Finally, the cheers died down some.
"Thirdly, to Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."
Hermione buried her face in her arms. I could imagine she might have burst into tears. The Gryffindors were up one hundred points.
"Fourth. To Mister Harry Potter." The room became hushed again. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."
The din was deafening. Gryffindor was tied with Slytherin!
Dumbledore raised his arms for quiet. "There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mister Neville Longbottom."
Neville, white with shock, was buried under a pile of Gryffindors, shouting and cheering so loud you might have thought a bomb went off. He'd never so much as one a single point, and here he was, the tipping point.
Draco couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd been cursed.
I clapped for my friends and turned back to the podium as Dumbledore finished. "Which means, we need a little change of decoration."
He clapped his hands, and the green hangings became scarlet, the silver turned to gold. The huge serpent disappeared and a roaring lion took its place. Snape was shaking McGonagall's hand with a horrible, forced smile.
I was surprised when my exam results came in. While Hermione was top student overall, I had the top score in Charms.
Apparently my tutu-ed pineapple made Flitwick and McGonagall laugh. This also boosted my score in Transfiguration. Overall good marks.
Then suddenly the trunks were packed and we were standing in Hogsmeade Station, loading up on the train.
George was staring at me sadly as I piled my trunk into the overhead rack.
Fred was whining about the paper we'd been handed instructing no magic over the summer.
"Oh, its probably for safety reasons Freddy." I consoled. "Not that that has ever stopped you, but still..."
George couldn't take it anymore. "Kitty, please! Please say something, anything!"
"What do you want me to say?" I asked teasingly.
"Anything! Just talk to me, I mi-" And then it hit him, I spoke. "Kitty!" He tackled me in a hug.
All good things must come to an end, and we arrived at the platform faster than I hoped.
The twins pulled me over to meet the Weasley matriarch. She was a lovely woman and insisted that at some point over the summer I must visit.
Then Remus arrived, and the pair of adults gave a nod, like they had met before, but didn't want to speak. I frowned and determined to ask later.
For now, I was going home.
And so ends the Philosophers Stone. Should I continue here, or separate each book? Let me know with a comment.
