Chapter 17: Protecting the Stone
Harry struggled to keep the Headmaster's pace. When he wanted to, the old man sure could be athletic. Wizard constitutions tended to hold up very well compared to muggles, it would be foolish to judge an older wizard by their standards. While Dumbledore appeared to be fast walking, Harry had to jog to keep up. The corridors flew by, torches becoming blurs of warm light.
"Harry, should we find evidence of your friends' trespass, I'm afraid I will have to ask something of you," Dumbledore said, the air felt like electric currents were running through it. They came to the corridor, with an open door to where Harry assumed the Cerberus was kept by the intense growling noise coming from it.
They entered the chamber behind this door, the Cerberus Fluffy paced over a trapdoor, fully awake. A golden harp with a broken string sat in a corner of the room. Dumbledore summoned the harp to himself and attempted to repair it. The dog growled at Dumbledore who cast a spell which seemed to have a calming effect on the Cerberus, the three-headed dog eyed them threateningly.
"I cannot repair it in short order. It has been enchanted to break and resist repair." Dumbledore's face became one of concentration. He waved his wand in a flowing motion, twisting his wrist in an odd manner. It caused Fluffy's drool to light up in a golden light. Footprints appeared in golden light, leading to the trapdoor. More than one set, a few of them child-sized. And there was an odd red glow surrounding the entrance to the trapdoor. "Harry, I know trust between us waffles greatly-"
"You want me to go after them, alone. You actually believe my mother's love is the reason I survived that night," Harry said solemnly.
"Quite right. You are protected by your mother's love from Voldemort. Should I step beyond that trapdoor, Voldemort will immediately take a hostage. There is a strong possibility Voldemort has prepared for my return. He would immediately seek out your friends if I were to accidentally trigger one of his preparations, just as he prepared this harp. With Quirrell and him together, I do not trust my ability to keep three first-years safe. You must catch up to them before they get through Severus's setup if at all possible. In the worst case, you should be protected while I immediately make my way down.
Harry nodded wordlessly. Dumbledore cast a spell on Harry which caused him to fly towards the trap door at an amazing speed. The Cerberus reacted, one of its heads snapped at Harry, but Dumbledore transfigured the floor into a stone shield right in front of him. The trapdoor opened and Harry shot down into it before the spell faded, causing his momentum to halt momentarily.
He fell hard on his knees into what felt like soft plant matter. Tendrils and vines began to wrap around his legs. He flicked his wand and created a light for himself. He was on top of a massive plant. Devil's Snare. When the light flicked on, the grip on his ankles loosened momentarily. Was it so simple? Neville would easily pass this even if Hermione did not.
Harry twirled his wand like a baton, as jets of flame burst from the tip. The flames created a bubble of licking flame around him, the Devil's Snare recoiled away from him, faster than any plant should be capable of moving. Under his feet, the plant gave way to solid stone. He fell again, this time stumbling on his feet as several feet of plant matter avoided his flame. From across the room, he could see the top of an archway, which should be the door to the next room. He walked to allow the Devil's Snare to part in front of him. The door opened easily to the next room.
The next room was at least the size of one of the large lecture halls used for Charms and Transfiguration. Brightly lit by some sort of charm which made a bright white light glow around the whole room, it was hard to get the dimensions of the room. The only thing which stood out from the white light were flying keys with tiny wings on them, the two doors leading in and out of the room, and a completely mangled broomstick which lay right next to the door leading further in.
Harry ran up to the door, keeping an eye on the keys or other threats. The keys did not react to his presence, they appeared blind to him, whizzing above his height in no particular pattern. He held up his hand to see, a few keys nicked his hand but the keys immediately rebounded as if they had run into a dead obstacle and not a human trying to catch them. Upon examining the door, he noticed the lock was silver. Most of the keys he had seen were gold or bronze, none were silver like the lock. He attempted to unlock the door with a spell, but it didn't budge.
"Damnit. I should have at least practiced on a broom," Harry complained to himself as he picked up the broom. It was in no shape to be flown. Someone had either crashed it into the wall, or the defender of this room had purposefully chosen the worst of the school brooms. "I don't have time for this!"
Then out of the corner of his eye there was more erratic movement than the normal whizzing of keys. There was a silver key flying slowly in a low circle. Its wings were badly damaged, to the point where it was flying purely on magic and certainly not those wings. Harry walked up to it. "Twice caught, twice damaged. Makes sense. This is too easy…"
He snatched the damaged key, it struggled in his closed fist. All of the sudden, Harry heard a chirping noise coming from all over. He sprinted for the door, as he saw a cloud of keys begin to get into formation.
"Protego!" Harry made the strongest shield he could manage as he prepared for the onslaught of keys coming at him at an amazingly fast speed. Would the shield hold?
A few feet before he made it to the door the formation of keys met his shield. The shield held, with the keys bounced harmlessly, but every key which hit the shield caused it to ripple like water. Too much disruption and his shield would disappear. The cloud of keys passed over his shield as he managed to slam the silver key into the lock and turn it. Just as he opened the door, the other keys reformed. Harry quickly opened the door and slammed it shut.
# # #
Harry landed on his ass, in his hurry to get through the door he had slammed into something going the other way.
"Arrgh! Watch it mate- HARRY!?" Ron's idiotic expression was in full force. Ron's clothes were dirty and torn. Harry noticed a particular gash on his right arm, which he held by his side. He had been injured. He had also fallen to the ground.
"Where are they Ron! You complete and utter fools!" Harry snarled.
"We thought you were after the stone. Then when we discovered someone else might have come, we thought you might be in danger. So we-"
"Threw yourselves into danger like this?" Harry interrupted him.
"We've managed all the protections alright," Ron shot back defensively.
"They are meant to waste time, not stop you! Your arm is mangled and you look a mess, what did you do?" The room around them was a gigantic chessboard, with large statues instead of pieces. Some of them were in ruins.
"I sacrificed myself so they could go on," Ron said, his face turning beat red with embarrassment and pride. "I was going to stay behind because I'm injured and could get help. Wait, what are you doing here? Are you after the stone or-"
"I don't have time for this…" Harry muttered, "SILENCIO!" Ron was hit by his spell. His eyes went wide when he found himself unable to speak. Ron became indignant and began to try and yell. Harry ignored the redhead and went towards the second door. Ron held onto his robes to stop Harry with his good arm. The room began to shift, Harry heard the movement of stone on stone. He saw a broken piece reattach itself. The pieces were reforming! He needed to move, or he'd waste his time on a chess game.
"Sorry Ron!" Harry cast a blue force spell, which caused Ron to rocket back on his behind and roll over in pain. No yells escaped his lips which were attempting to scream in pain. Harry sprinted for the door and managed to dodge under a single spear that had just managed to reform on the chessboard. He slammed the door shut behind him.
This room was only a stone room filled with a knocked-out troll. Or dead, Harry didn't bother to check as he sprinted through the room.
In the next room, upon entering, Harry rolled to dodge as purple flames came to greet him from behind. Neville and Hermione were examining a set of potions on a table, until the roar of flame behind Harry alerted them to his presence. Black flame lay ahead of them. Besides the flames, the room was unlit.
"YOU UTTER CODS!" Harry straightened himself up and brushed the dust from his robes. He was in much better shape than Neville or Hermione. Neville had a giant bruise on his face, and Hermione had little nicks all over her robes, her hair was singed and smokey.
"Harry? What are you- we thought you were ahead," said Neville.
"Why would I be ahead?! I'm not an IDIOT!"
"Excuse you! You break rules all the time Potter!" Hermione snapped, "Besides, I've just solved the riddle, and we've gotten past all of these protections. You underestimated us. The last room should be ahead. Only… there is only enough potion for two of us if I make the potion again."
"I am going ahead. You both are going back," Harry asserted pointing his wand at the both of them.
"H-Harry? You? Why?" Neville stuttered; his face distraught over what he must have considered betrayal.
"Why indeed Neville," Hermione snorted, "he plans to take on the thief by himself. Harry was always conceited. He used us to clear the way for him. Besides Ron, we made it through pretty easily. You didn't expect us to be in such good shape, did you?"
Harry groaned and slapped his forehead. "I'm not after the stone! Voldemort is in the next room! Dumbledore sent me to retrieve you so that you wouldn't get taken hostage! I still have the protection which allowed me to survive the killing curse last time."
"V-V-You-Know-Who?" Neville paled further, he inched slightly away from Hermione.
"HA! Yeah right! He's been gone for over a decade! He's dead! Everyone says so! You're desperate, aren't you Potter?" Hermione taunted.
"Neville! You're the first friend I ever made, please," Harry pleaded, "please trust me. If you distrust me this much, are we even friends anymore?"
Neville turned back and forth between Hermione and Harry for a few seconds. "Good enough for me Harry," Neville walked away from Hermione who looked on aghast at the turn of events. "Come on Hermione. You were wrong about Harry. He was never ahead of us. We're chasing V-V-VOLDEMORT for goodness sake."
"It doesn't make sense! It's so absurd! How could you believe such a story? Just because he says to trust him? Will he tell you about his plans for the summer? What about his magic?" Hermione ranted.
"I trust Harry with my life. I know he sometimes keeps things to himself, but I trust him," Neville balled his stubby hands into fists and clenched his eyes closed in determination.
Harry turned his attention to Hermione who grasped a completed potion in her hands shakily. Her eyes glazed over slightly, and she was back to angry.
"She- she's been cursed! Neville! Her eyes!" Harry yelled.
Neville eyed Hermione warily. "You have been off recently Hermione…"
"I am not cursed, Potter! You've always been against me! Always! It's always been Professor Quirrell and Neville who were nice to me. I HATE YOU!" Hermione's eyes turned red as she swallowed the potion she had created and jumped through the black flames. Neville was right in his line of sight! He couldn't get a shot off to stop her!
"DAMN! Neville, go back and tell Dumbledore what has happened! I need to go ahead! Maybe I can still save Hermione and have him take me hostage instead. Tell Ron I apologize for my roughness." Harry ran up to the potion table and remade the potion. The puzzle was too easy for Harry, who had been solving puzzles all year to get into his dormitory. Neville stood by his side watching him mix the potion in awe, he handed some potion for Neville to return, who absentmindedly took it. "NEVILLE, GO!" Harry screamed at his friend who stood like a lump.
The screaming brought him back into focus. Neville nodded and sprinted away as fast as his chubby frame would take him.
Harry took off into the black flames and through the last door. At least at the end of this, Hermione's recent hostility would end.
# # #
The remaining room held a stone chamber, dimly lit by torches. A small set of stairs towards the end led up to a smaller landing where a mirror had been placed right in the center. It reminded Harry of a throne room, with the mirror in the place of where a throne should be. A fancy scarlet carpet which made its way all the way to the entrance and up the steps led Harry's eyes to the two other figures in the room.
In front of the mirror, Hermione and Quirrell stood, alone. Harry scanned the room to the best of his ability. If Voldemort caught him by surprise, his protections may not matter. Unless, he wasn't here? Only a few stone pillars could possibly hide the dark wizard, otherwise, he would be hidden using magic.
"Quirrell! To think you were the one after the stone. I'm going to miss our detentions together terribly!" Harry stepped slowly but confidently towards the pair. If he was going out, at least he would die looking cool.
"P-P-Potter. How nice of y-y-you to join us," Quirrell stuttered, "Hermione here i-informs me you t-tricked N-N-Neville into thinking You-Know-Who was here?"
"Harry, Professor Snape! He was a Death Eater! Professor Quirrell tried to stop him," Hermione yelled excitedly. "The final room is in the mirror."
Harry felt the gears in his mind move. This should be Dumbledore's protection. Voldemort was in the mirror? Why would Quirrell wait outside of it then? Voldemort could be trapped in the mirror.
"What's stopping you from going after him?" Harry asked.
"Professor Quirrell says you need to want the stone, but I'm too pure of heart," bragged Hermione.
Nonsense. If Dumbledore's protection was intent-based, Hermione being cursed would prevent her access.
"And you Professor?"
"I-I'm f-f-f-f-far too timid," whispered Quirrell.
"We should wait for Professor Snape to come out, we outnumber him," Harry suggested.
Quirrell began to laugh, a chuckle at first but slowly growing into a maniacal and throaty laugh.
"Stupefy!" Quirrell said in a low tone, pointing his wand at Hermione. She turned to him in confusion and terror, her expression like a deer in headlights. The spell knocked her precariously close to falling down the small set of stairs. "Potter, Potter, Potter… I should have known it wouldn't work the moment you figured out she was cursed. I had hoped your anger could be used to my benefit. It certainly worked for McGonagall; did you like my little jinx before?"
"It was you…" Harry smirked. "You're trying to break my mental defense. Last time was a cheap shot. Do you think I'd let my guard down in front of you?"
"I did try to steer your mind throughout our little detentions together. Your mental defenses set me back a long time. I had to go with the girl in the end. Troublesome boy, since you've come all this way, COME OVER HERE AND GET ME MY STONE!"
Harry braced himself, but did not do as Quirrell commanded. Instead, he pointed his wand at his DADA teacher. Harry didn't put much to his natural skill, his defense class had been taught by the very man he needed to defend himself from. It was doubtful he would win a duel.
"Where is Tom Riddle?" Harry spat.
Quirrell chuckled. "I wondered why you reacted so much to my telling you he was supposed to be dead. YOU only knew he was alive. How I do not know, did someone finally plot the castle? That's it, isn't it? I should have realized your public feud with Dumbledore was no farce. To think the pieces would have come together if not for the cruelty of muggles. It's destiny I think."
"What pieces?" Harry demanded, stalling for time.
"Ohoho! You're good Potter, I'll give you that. I truly can't tell where the tricks begin and end," Quirrell complimented, "I should have switched to the girl sooner. Are you after the stone, or not? Did you truly believe Lord Voldemort was in the next room? Are you- stalling for time?" Quirrell grinned insidiously as he teased, his eyes focused and reddened, the lines in his face appearing eerie and unsettling.
"Why not revive the girl? Use her to get the stone? Why wait for me at all? You speak of me stalling for time, I'm not the one monologuing," Harry said with caution in his voice, he backed up further.
A cold voice emanated from Quirrell, his lips did not move, "With your presence here, I'm certain I must use you to revive myself, and then I will kill you. Nothing but destiny can explain such a coincidence. Release me Quirinius."
Harry felt the voice echo through his brain, like hypnotic knives attempting to break him. His scar pulsed angrily. He refused to react as Quirrell unwrapped his now-infamous turban. It revealed a pale and sickly face with angry red eyes on the back of his head and slits where a nose should have been. The skin looked pallid, like he had been drowned.
"You're- possessing Quirrell? Like that?" Harry raised his eyebrows. The Dark Lord must have been beyond desperate and weak. "Are you incapable of fully possessing Quirrell?"
"The mirror, have the boy look into the mirror!" the raspy and chilling voice urged Quirrell.
"Not interested, STUPIFY!" Harry exaggerated an attack at Quirrell and silently cast an enervate spell on Hermione.
She woke, rubbing her head which had been against the edge of the stairs as she stood. "What's going on?" she muttered until her eyes focused on the scene around her. "Harry! Quirrell is the one after the stone! I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me!" tears flooded down her face.
"Hermione, get away from Quirrell!" Harry yelled.
"Too late! She'll have to do!" Quirrell pointed his wand at Hermione's back and grabbed her arm. Hermione screamed when she saw the face on the back of the turban.
"Hermione close your eyes!"
She clenched her eyes shut to the point where it looked as if her forehead would burst from the effort. Quirrell turned purple with rage.
"The boy should be the one to revive me. Use the girl to threaten him," Voldemort said with an amused hint to his voice.
"DROP YOUR WAND AND GET IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR BOY, OR I WILL TORTURE HER INTO A PILE OF MUSH!" Quirrell roared.
He would be absolutely defenseless without his wand. Hermione's wand, that was his only hope. With the wandless magic he developed during his decade with the Dursleys, it might work.
He bent down, placed his wand carefully on the ground and raised his hands in the air. His hand felt cool from the sweat of his hand which normally held his wand. It felt naked. His footsteps echoed out, only slightly muffled by the carpet underneath as he made his way up the steps. He caught Quirrell's disgusting garlic odor in the last few steps. Quirrell pulled Hermione and himself out of the way.
"Look into the mirror now," Voldemort's low voice demanded with an eerie calm. Inside the mirror, Harry only saw his regular reflection. Until a few seconds passed, and the image changed. It became him, in France, using the gold from the philosopher's stone to make a life for himself outside of school. "What did you see?"
"Harry! Don't give them the stone! No matter what! I-I-I'll take the c-c-consequences for my actions. I'm sorry Harry!" Hermione's face became completely red with tears. Her face was a mask of utter despair and fear. Voldemort and Quirrell scared him less than having to see that face. It reminded him of what would happen to her if they did not get the stone.
He avoided looking at her and focused on the task at hand, Hermione's wand. "It's not your fault Hermione. And I saw myself, making good use of the gold I could acquire off the books using the stone." Harry smirked. "I thought we established I am not the Gryffindor golden boy."
"He—tells the truth," Voldemort rumbled, "The reverse will have to do! DEMONSTRATE what happens to those who defy the Dark Lord for the girl, Quirinius!"
"CRUCIO!" Quirrell pointed his wand at Harry, the red light hit him as he attempted to take the wand. But the searing pain, like nothing he had ever felt, even the broken bones he had been given… It broke his concentration.
"AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHH!" he screamed.
"Continue to weaken the boy!"
"NOOO! Please! I'll help you get the stone! Please! Don't hurt him anymore!" Hermione pleaded.
"CRUCIO!"
"AAAAAAAAGH!" Harry knew it was his voice screaming, but somehow he didn't feel as if he had voluntarily screamed. FOCUS! The wand! Nothing else! Not the pain, wand! Wand! Wand! WAND!
"CRUCIO!"
"Seems the protections Dumbledore assumed you had does you no good, boy-who-lived!" Voldemort laughed.
"AAAAAAGGGGH! WAND!" The word came unbidden from his lips as he suddenly felt something in his hand, but he was still under the cruciatus.
"CRU-"
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry managed to get a spell off which blasted the wand from Quirrell's hand and down the bottom of the steps.
Hermione saw the opportunity and wrenched herself from Quirrell's grip, running behind Harry. Quirrell's movements appeared inhuman. One second Hermione had escaped his grasp, the next he had closed the distance with Harry and got around his wand tip.
"Kill the boy with your bare hands if you have to! He can't obtain the stone anyway!" said Voldemort.
Quirrell grabbed him by the throat, cutting off his air supply, his scar exploded with pain almost as bad as the cruciatus.
"IT BURNS!" Quirrell's unexpected voice throatily screamed. "Master, what is this?"
Harry grabbed onto Quirrell's hands, which gripped his throat ever tighter. He was becoming light-headed, and whatever was happening with Quirrell needed to be accelerated. Quirrell's arms began to smoke.
"Gyaaah!" the vice-like grip released. Harry dropped, but unwilling to let his advantage go, he snarled and tackled the man. Making sure to put his hands on the man's face and neck, scratching at him as they tumbled down the stairs. They landed roughly, with Harry's right arm receiving a sickening crunch in one final roll to the bottom, a sacrifice to land on top of a screaming Quirrell whose skin began to flake away.
"Master! HE'S! AAAAH!"
"NO! It cannot be! Of all the times!"
Quirrell's body began to fall apart as the combination of stairs and the effect of whatever magic was happening with the physical touch.
A shadowy specter like a deep black smoke exploded from Quirrell, which was the final straw for Quirrell as he burst into nothingness, still screaming. The specter flew out of the room at an impressive rate, no lower than a broom at full speed.
At the bottom of the stairs, Harry was completely drained. The dull ache of his scar faded, and exhaustion replaced it. He broke at least a few bones in the tumble down the stairs, his body was in the worst shape it had ever been, as it refused to respond to his commands. Maybe he ought to get some rest… There was a silver light that burst into the room as his vision faded.
"HARRY!"