In Harry Potter's mind, chess had never been a particularly fun game. This was, of course, partly because he was mediocre at the game (and that was on his better days.). The main reason, however, was this bloody room.
He could still remember walking into this room five years ago, still in shock after narrowly escaping death several times in less than ten minutes. He, Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and Blaise had all been bruised and battered. For a moment, excitement had coursed through their little group as they saw the chess pieces. Perhaps, this time, they would not have to risk life and limb. Of course, their hopes were quickly dashed when they had realised there were five pieces missing from the black side of the board. Because, of course, things did not come easily when Harry Potter was around.
After twenty minutes of brutal back and forth (under the command of Malfoy and Blaise), they finally trapped the white king on the side of the board. But victory had not come without a cost. Crabbe and Goyle both lay mewling on the ground, covered in scratches and marble debris. Crabbe, they had later learnt, had several broken ribs, and Goyle's middle finger on his right hand had been sticking out at a gruesomely obtuse angle after the rook he had been riding was traded for the white queen.
"What are we supposed to do?" Whispered Hermione harshly, as if worried she was going to wake the towering chess pieces from their slumber.
Harry tore himself from his trip down memory lane, and looked around the room. It was pristine. No trace could be seen of the game played before they had arrived. He wondered how long it had taken for Voldemort to rip his way through the animated pieces. Considering the man was one of two dark lords to actually threaten the status quo in four hundred years, he guessed it couldn't have taken too long.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron said smugly. "We've got to play our way across the room."
Hermione's eyes widened as she looked towards the stone board. "How?" She asked after a moment.
"We're going to have to be chessmen." Harry cut in grimly.
Ron nodded at that, before crossing over to the black side of the chess board. Gingerly, he poked a knight with his forefinger. Immediately, the figure sprang to life. The horse began pawing the ground, while the knight turned to look at Ron.
"Er..We have to join you to get across, yeah?"
The black knight nodded severely, before turning back to face his age-old foe.
"We have to take the places of three of the pieces, I guess." Harry suggested as he gestured to the board.
Ron nodded absently, his forehead creased in thought.
Harry just waited patiently, spending his time marvelling at the sight of Ron deep in thought about a choice that wasn't related to food or condiments thereof.
Hermione was the first to break the silence. "What-"
"I don't want to be rude or anything..but, er, neither of you are any good at chess, are you?" Ron cut in, his face as serious as Harry had ever seen it.
"Well I wouldn't say I was bad." Hermione prevaricated, looking down at her toes nervously.
"Just tell us what do." Harry said quickly, eager to defuse any argument whilst Voldemort was allowed free reign with the Philosopher's Stone. "And remember, this is probably Wizards Chess. And you know how Wizard's Chess works…"
Ron whitened, but nodded confidently (ignoring Hermione's faint gasp of protest at being overlooked for command in favour of Ron Weasley). "Alright, well. Harry, you take the place of the kingside bishop. Hermione, you take kingside rook." The pieces Ron had selected stiffened, before reluctantly pulling themselves off of the board, their heads bowed in dejection.
"What about you?" Hermione asked nervously, understandably afraid of being commanded into battle by Ron Weasley.
"I'm going to be a knight."
The game started slowly. The white pieces assumed a more defensive posture, allowing Ron to develop his pieces and claim the centre. As Harry had suggested, the first trade (a queenside bishop for a white knight) was brutal. The black bishop neatly tripped the white knight with its staff, before running through the hapless piece with its staff. The bishop, after tossing the discarded piece to the side, was quickly taken by the queen, who used her twin swords to neatly carve massive gashes in the bishop, before sending the bishop to follow its first victim. Ron, upon seeing the massive cuts gouged into his piece, had absentmindedly rubbed his leg. After this, the game sped up dramatically. Well, as much as a chess game could, anyway. Whilst Harry and Hermione were kept safely behind the fort of pawns, Ron had no such reservations about himself. He leapt into the fray, making several critical forks, and tallying several pawns and a rook to his side of the ledger.
The white pieces, however, were no less canny. And they showed no mercy. Broken black pieces quickly piled up on the other side of the board, as both sides scrapped for some advantage. After nearly ten minutes of the game, Ron had gained a slightly better position, but was a few pawns behind.
From where he was standing, Harry didn't really know how the game was going. Being at most half the size of most of the chess pieces made it hard to get a good read on the situation, and Ron's face had been relentlessly intense for the entire game. But, as mediocre as player as he was, he knew it was..unusual to have two of your strongest pieces hiding for most the game, without developing them for some greater purpose. As little as he wanted himself or Hermione to be sacrificed, he also didn't want Quirrell and Voldemort around Stone for longer than necessary.
Apparently Hermione had come to the same conclusion.
"Ron…" She reproved gently, like a mother speaking to a child. "You need to move us."
Ron coloured, but stood firm. "No, I can do this. Really. Just let me think."
"You do want to stop Quirrell from getting, the Stone, don't you?" Hermione reasoned patiently. "If you just put me into position to attack that knight…"
"Rubbish. Hermione, if you do that, you'll get taken in two or three moves!" Ron explained.
Hermione just nodded calmly. "I know."
With that, she began moving up the board, putting herself in position to attack the white knight that was supporting several pawns.
"HAVE YOU GONE BLOODY MAD?" Ron screamed, his voice cracking in a mix of fury and abject terror. "THAT DOESN'T COUNT, I DIDN'T TELL HER TO-"
But his protests were in vain. The second Hermione reached her destination, the white queen moved to support the knight. Harry just watched on, staring at Hermione's shaking, tiny form as the faceless queen turned to look at her expectantly.
"Just our bloody luck that you choose now to be a bloody Gryffindor." Ron snarled angrily.
Hermione set her shoulders, and began walking towards the white knight.
"Wait, Hermione, please. I didn't mean it! Stop! NOW!" Ron screamed, increasingly terrified.
But Hermione didn't stop it. Slowly, she came to the knight, and gently pushed it. Almost daintily, the knight fell onto the ground, landing heavily on the cold floor. Then, he began to crawl towards the edge of the board with painfully overexaggerated movements. Hermione, white faced, just watched it go, ignoring Ron's apoplectic shouting. The moment the fallen knight crawled over the invisible line between the game area and the rest of the room, the queen began to move. Harry, horrified, watched on as it slowly, inexorably advanced on the tiny, bushy haired girl. Hermione to her credit, didn't try to run. She just stared at the hulking piece, calmly watching her doom approaching.
Harry felt his fingernails digging into his palm as he watched on helplessly, just waiting for the blow to fall. Part of him knew she probably wouldn't die. That part, however, was drowned out by the other parts of his brain yelling at him to step in before she was butchered by the crazed animate statue.
As the queen loomed up above the girl, its twin swords raised above its head and ready to slice down, however, something happened. The animated piece jerked, its raised blades falling from the position as the pieces hands spasmed awkwardly. It froze for a moment, turning so still it could be mistaken for a statue. Then, in one slick move, the queen sheathed its blades. Then, drawing itself up to its full height, it plucked Hermione up by the scruff of her uniform. Hermione dangled in midair for a moment, held aloft by the Queen's hand like a puppet on a string. Then she was tossed unceremoniously to the side, out of the game board.
"Hermione!" Harry and Ron shouted in unison as she slid along the marble floor, her momentum eventually being gently halted by her back bouncing softly against the stone wall.
There was an awful moment of shocked silence as Hermione lay on the ground, her back against the stone wall. Then, thankfully, her head began to rise, turning up to look at Ron. "Well?" She demanded bossily. "Go on then." She gestured, prone on the ground, at the chess game still in progress.
Ron just shook his head in disbelief. "Mental." Harry saw him mouth to himself as he moved to take the pawn.
"Check." Ron said shakily, looking nervously around him as if worried a piece would materialise from thin air and decapitate him.
The white pieces froze for a second, and Harry could have sworn he saw the wind go out of them. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the king moved towards Ron. Ron just nodded, satisfied. Using the stone stirrup of his horse, he spurred it onwards, charging at the queen. The horse's head smashed into the centre mass of the piece, sending chunks of marble exploding out the back of the Queen. Haltingly, the queen toppled to the ground as its white subordinates watched on in defeat.
A few moves later, it was all over. The black queen trapped the white king against the edge of the board, ably supported by Harry's bishop. The white king dejectedly pulled off its crown, and threw it at Ron's feet. Then all of the pieces began to shuffle off the board. The black pieces strutted, some throwing their arms around each other in a frankly alarming display of humanity. The white pieces, in comparison, trudged off the field, soundly defeated.
The game was won.
Gingerly, Hermione went to rejoin her comrades. Her palms were soundly skinned, and her uniform was now caked with a layer of dust. However, compared to the fate of the other victims of the white queen, it seemed she had gotten off rather lightly all told.
"That was mental, Hermione." Ron said breathlessly, his gleaming eyes belying his tone of voice.
Hermione coloured a little, but shrugged it off. "It's really not that impressive, Ron. I expect any good Gryffindor would do the same."
"Rubbish!" Ron exploded. "That was bloody brilliant. I'd like to see Malfoy or one of his twin gits do something like that, right Harry?" He smiled happily at Harry, failing to notice his friend stiffen slightly at the mention of the Slytherin trio. "If you do anything as half as wicked, Quirrell doesn't stand a chance!"
Harry was less effusive in his praise. Gently, he inclined his head towards Hermione. "It was very brave." He said simply.
If it was possible, Hermione went even redder.
"Blimey. I knew Snape always had it in for us. How does he expect anybody to get this?" Ron squinted at the roll of paper. "Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind? Thanks Professor, really helpful advice, that." Ron looked doubtfully at the purple fire that had sprung up behind them as soon as they entered the room. "So, do we need to do a spell or something?
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a puzzle, Ron, not magic. Its brilliant, really. a lot of the greatest wizards don't have an ounce of logic. They'd be stuck in here forever."
"Exhibit A." Harry smiled, gesturing towards Ron.
Ron, ignoring the jibe, whitened a little. "We're not going to be stuck in here though, right Hermione?"
"Of course not! Honestly." Hermione shook her head at the lack of faith. "Everything we need is right here. Seven bottles. Three are poison. Two are wine. One will get us through the black fire;" she pointed to the archway which was engulfed in black fire, presumably the entrance to the room Harry knew would be the last. "and the other will get us back through the purple fire."
Harry nodded. It didn't seem like anything had changed. He superficially glanced at the table, taking in the various heights of the different bottles. Slowly he bent down, scrutinising the smallest one. He thought he remembered that that was the one with the mixture that would get them through. Or, more correctly, get him through. He remembered having to leave Draco and Blaise here because the vial only had enough for one person, so he was pretty sure the smallest one was the right one. Of course, pretty sure tended to be what plenty of wizards with a few seconds to live had said when dealing with deadly poisons, a list that Harry had no desire to be added to.
Gently, he tapped the small vial once. "It's this one, right Hermione?"
Hermione tilted her head slightly. "I'm not really sure yet. Give me a minute." With that, she pulled the paper roll back to her face. Reading over it for a second, she out it down again, and glanced at the bottles. Nodding, she put it back to her face. Down again. Nod. Ron stood beside her awkwardly as she muttered to herself for a few moments.
Then, abruptly, she clapped her hands. "Got it!"
Harry winced as the sound echoed around the small stone chamber. "Hermione, you do realise Quirrell is probably on the other side of that black fire, right?"
Hermione's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. "Oh dear. Harry, I'm so-"
Harry waved his hand to cut her off. "It doesn't matter. Did you figure it out?"
Hermione nodded, still somewhat apologetic. "You were right. The small one gets you through the black fire."
Harry nodded. For a moment, he'd been fretting he'd turned into Neville. Gingerly, he picked the bottle up from the counter. Removing the cork stopper, he sniffed it experimentally. For some reason, it did little to calm his nerves.
"Well…" Harry started. "I suppose this is it."
Ron and Hermione both started abruptly.
"What do you mean?"
"What are you talking about?" They chorused over each other angrily.
"There's only enough in here for one person." Harry explained gently, holding the bottle up to his mouth. "You two go back and wait for the teachers to come. They should be here any second now. Thanks, both of you, for all your help, but-" Bringing the bottle to his lips, he swallowed the whole mixture in a single swallow. "I have to do this alone."
"Harry, no!" Ron exclaimed. "I can help. We can help!"
Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement, and crossed her arms in a vain attempt to look menacing.
Harry smiled sadly. "No. You don't stand a chance against him. Its not just Quirrell in there. Voldemort is too."
Ron and Hermione let out twin gasps of shock.
"Sorry." And with that eloquent parting word, Harry, his veins feeling as cold as ice, charged through the doorway, ignoring the shouts of protest coming from his friends.
The shouts were rapidly drowned out by the roaring of the flames. His entire vision was flooded with midnight-black flames, licking at his skin and hair. Undeterred, he battled on, forcing his body onwards against its instinctual urge to run and hide. Then, blessedly, he was clear. He emerged on the other side unscathed, into yet another nondescript, yet large, stone room.
In the middle of the room, his front presumably staring into the mirror, stood Professor Quirrell. No longer did he stoop a little, no did his shoulders hunch forward. Now he stood tall and proud, his back ramrod straight. "Ah, Potter. I was wondering if you'd be joining us." He said menacingly. Harry could almost feel the cruel smirk he was sure was on the man's face.
"I've come to stop you, and your little passenger, Quirrell." Harry proclaimed brazenly as if he were not an eleven year old ready to do battle with the most powerful wizard in a generation. It never hurt to have your opponent underestimate you.
Slowly, Quirrell turned to face him, a mask of cold indifference on his face. "So, you worked it out, did you? Impressive, for one so young." His hand whipped up to his turban. "Foolish, as well." He began unravelling the headpiece. "For you to know about my..little secret, and still come bursting in here..well, I would say you are much like your father, Potter."
Harry's fist tightened around his wand as he pulled it from its holster.
The turban was almost off by now. "Yes, and soon, I shall give you an even greater gift, child. You shall have even more in common with your dearly departed." He smiled cruelly as the last folds of the turban fell off his head, and the room was filled with a foul odour of rotting flesh. "Soon, you shall both be dead."
"Yess…" A frail, yet harsh voice whispered from behind the professor. "Soon.."
Harry levelled his wand at the 'pair'. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
Quirrell looked down at his wand critically, a sardonic grin plastered on his face. "Really, Potter? You expect to face the greatest dark lord of all time? And win?"
"I've done it before." Harry said resolutely.
Of course, Quirrell had a point. Even if he was well rested, and had his old magical strength returned to him, he wouldn't have much of a chance against Quirrellmort in a fair fight.
Harry Potter, however, never did try to play fair.
Quirrell snarled at the insult to his master. "You were an aberration, Potter. The Dark Lord shall have his vengeance on you, when he is returned to his faithful. I will find the Stone for him, and then he shall scatter your bones."
With that, Quirrell whipped around, back towards the strange mirror. Harry recoiled as the beady, blood-red eyes of Voldemort himself locked onto his own. Instinctively, he whipped a hand to his forehead as his scar began pulsing in pain.
"Potter…" It said, every syllable of the word conveying unspeakable depths of pain and cruelty. "This..this is what you have done to me…it's only fitting you return me to my rightful place."
"Master?" Quirrell quivered. "You want me to use him to get the Stone?"
"Yess, my faithful servant. Use him…and you will be greatly rewarded."
Harry resisted the urge to smile triumphantly as Quirrell turned, and began to close on him, his hands outstretched and greedily grasping. Then, suddenly, the professor halted.
"Potter, I didn't expect you to bring company."
What? Harry looked behind him, his eyes widening in shock as Ron and Hermione stumbled through the flames, and into the room.