During Wednesday afternoon, before astronomy, Harry had his DADA test. Quirrel had acted strangely: much more easily startled and very jittery. When it came to the practical portion, he partnered everyone up and made his way around watching the pairs cast a handful of basic spells, such as lumos and rictusempra. Once that was done, he dismissed them, going through a door at the back of the class into his office, where a few boxes could be seen.
Dinner began later on, but something was bothering Harry. Opposite him, Hermione was absently eating while wondering what transfiguration and charms would bring; Neville, beside Harry, was pushing his food around, more nervous about the awaiting tests after struggling with his DADA one. Susan and Hannah were discussing what they would be doing over the summer over on the Hufflepuff table.
When Hedwig dropped by, Harry's thoughts dropped into place. He glanced up at the staff table, where there were three empty seats. Memories of Snape's meeting in the Forbidden Forest surfaced and he instinctively began writing to tell Hermione, but then the image of Snape writhing in pain with silent screams flashed and he knew he could never let the same happen to her. 'Just going to lie down for a bit, I'll see you later for astronomy,' he jotted before promptly standing up and swiftly walking away.
'Bye,' Hermione replied, looking a bit concerned when he spared a glance. He gave her a parting wave and, once free of the hall, he changed to more of a jog, reaching Gryffindor tower and the portrait of the Fat Lady promptly.
'Good evening Mr Potter,' the animated portrait said with a gentle smile from her chubby face.
He returned the smile, pulling out the recorder from his pocket and, after pressing a couple of buttons, it repeated, 'Lion's Courage,' in Hermione's voice. With that, the portrait swung open to reveal the hole in the wall to the Gryffindor common room. He spared no time for it, heading straight up to his dorm and retrieving his invisibility cloak. Spending a moment for thoughts, he couldn't remember seeing any doors in the room where the giant cat was, though there had been something that looked wooden by its feet. Hedging his bets, he picked up his broom as well, hiding it in the cloak.
After leaving the common room, he stepped into an empty, open classroom and donned the cloak, keeping the broom hidden too. Unable to be seen, he dashed through the halls heading to that door.
It was ajar.
Listening by the door, he heard the gentle plucking of harp strings. Taking a peak, the instrument stood by the doorway without a musician yet still producing its soothing melody. Both heads of the giant creature were resting on its curled body, a slight purr escaping. Creeping closer, he found that it was more akin to a panther than a black cat, with its lengthy body and narrow frame.
Open behind it was a wooden trapdoor. To his relief, a rope ladder led down, though he couldn't see down to what. Unable to hold the broom, his wand and the ladder, he left his broom behind the trapdoor, where it was nearly obscured from sight.
After a few steps down, he slipped out his wand and pushed it outside the cloak, gently lighting the area in a glow. There was a squirming beneath him and he saw the agitated nest of Devil's Snare. The wand's light wasn't strong enough to repel it and tentacle-like roots searched upwards for him. Focusing on his wand, he made it shine brighter, pushing back the appendages. Slowly, he continued down, managing to keep the plant at bay.
A door on the other side of the room found his ear pressed against it. After hearing nothing, he carefully turned the handle, letting in light from the next room. Extinguishing his wand, he slipped through, closing the door behind him.
Hundreds of glistening keys wildly flew with delicate wings about the room. He eyed the room, spotting a few brooms, but he decided to test the next door before trying to find the key. Given that he thought someone had already gone through, that it opened wasn't much of a surprise.
The large chamber it led to was made entirely of a colossal chessboard apart from an area for captured pieces. He admired the marble and granite chess pieces which gleamed in the glow from the flaming torches. They were arranged in a checkmate position where half were on the board and half patiently stood at either end.
He hurried passed them, going through another door. The dank dungeon was permeated by a horrid stench, nearly causing him to throw up. Looking around, all he could see were the battered remains of animals littered about. Deciding not to dwell, he continued onwards through another door.
Circular with emerald flames along the walls, the room was bathed in an eerie glow. Behind him, the doorway sprang into amethyst flames and the other doorway was already engrossed with azure flames. Several differently shaped bottled sat on a potions bench in the centre of the room, along with an engraving.
'Welcome to those ensnared between fires,
Only one of seven will lead to your desires.
Another will lead you back from where you came,
While no others are as kind nor the same.
A third will send you into a deep sleep,
Drink the fourth and your soul will it reap.
A fifth and your mind will become rotten,
A sixth and your memories forgotten.
The seventh turns blood to acid most strong,
For a death most painful and exceedingly long.
Know this then that death is surrounded,
By those whose effects are not its kindred.
To go back one must start at the beginning,
To start at the end one would be forgetting.
A damaged mind is followed by amnesia,
Either of which may be cured by a fabled tear.
Death awaits if stuck between going back or ahead,
Sleep awaits those who have gone too far instead.
Torture sits between the sleepers til their mind dies,
So beware the giant or your choice you will despise.'
He pondered the riddle, but kept his mind open. If one of them looked like it had been the last moved, then he assumed that would have been the one the person used and he could check if it fitted with the riddle. Another thought was that his cloak may protect him if it's a magical fire.
Carefully, he inspected each bottle, from the tall, skinny one at one end to the dinky one in the middle to the final of the seven bottles with an odd handle. It was the fifth from the left that matched the giant description, being taller and thicker than the others. The crackling of flames provided some background noise, but a strange one accompanied it, like that of dripping water.
His ears led him to one in particular. Removing the stopper, he watched as droplets appeared in the neck before falling down to the mostly full container, slowly refilling it. Working backwards, the bottle agreed with the clues and so, after a deep breath, he downed the now full potion. Immediately, he felt chilled, but considering he was still awake and didn't feel like he was dying, he thought it was the right one.
Before continuing on though, he had a thought. Rechecking the clues, he identified the potion for going back to the dungeon-like room and also the sleeping potion and switched them.
After another calming breath, he stepped into the flames, relieved to find himself still chilled rather than alight. Upon the other side a thin corridor led to an archway and through it another room. From where he was, he could make out a hint of gold, but it was only when he neared the end that he realised it was the Mirror of Erised. Standing slightly to its side was Quirrel, though he was whispering to himself.
Harry kept his surprise silent, instead trying to get closer so he could listen in to what was being said. There was no sign of the Philosopher's Stone, only the mirror, in the domed chamber.
'Silence,' hissed another voice, slightly higher pitched than Quirrel's, yet it seemingly came from him despite his lips speaking something different at the same moment. Harry paused, hoping that whoever it was hadn't noticed him. 'We're not alone,' the voice stated.
'Wh-who is there master?' Quirrel asked, head swivelling around.
'They hide themselves, but not their breath nor feet,' the voice replied, nearly inaudibly.
Raising his wand, Quirrel said, 'I u-understand,' before exclaiming, 'Creare nebula!' Thick fog poured out his wand, spreading out upon the floor, creeping closer and closer to Harry until it spilled through him; soon there was a layer upon the entire floor. 'M-master, do y-you think h-he has fled?' Quirrel asked, ending the spell and causing the fog to cease to exist.
'Quiet, fool, and listen.'
Harry stepped back as lightly as he could, putting distance between him and Quirrel, who would snap his head in any direction he thought he heard a sound from. When Harry was back in front of the mirror, his eyes caught movement in it. Staring back at him was himself, grinning while tossing a blood-red orb with one hand. After a few seconds, it held it towards the glass, as though offering it.
Quirrel had been moving around, putting himself in front of the only entrance and exit, his hand nervously twitching, wand letting off a crackle every now and then.
Harry cautiously stretched out a hand, expecting to meet glass, but instead it was more like the surface of soup, deforming around his fingers. Smooth stone broke through against his skin and he grabbed it, pulling it out. As soon as he had, the reflection waved at him before fading into nothingness. He touched it again, finding the cool glass.
Meanwhile, Quirrel nervously said, 'Avada Kedavra.' The emerald bolt shot through the air, aimed at where the ripples in the glass had just been. Harry jumped back as it passed through him, the stone falling, while the curse struck the mirror, reflecting it back through Harry and towards Quirrel.
He stumbled sideways to avoid it. 'The stone!' the other voice shrieked after it struck the floor, rolling from under the cloak. Harry regained his composure, dropping to the floor to grab it.
'Accio Philosopher's Stone,' Quirrel roared, only to find it disappear after jumping towards him with the sound of flesh hitting rock sounding and the slight pull on his wand releasing.
'Get it!' the voice shrieked and Quirrel obeyed, striding towards the mirror and letting go of his wand. Flailing his arms, he caught the corner of the cloak and ripped it off. 'P-Potter?' Quirrel stuttered from the floor, the silver fabric tight in his grip.
'Harry Potter?' the voice asked, surprised. 'Kill him.'
His mind threatened to shut down, but Harry knew he had to act. A quick flick of the wrist sent the stone in a steep arc over the top of Quirrel while he went low, grabbing the dropped wand. Preparing to catch it, Quirrel released the cloak and turned, running.
Harry trained his wand on the crimson blur and, with a swish and a flick, raised it higher in the air, far out of Quirrel's reach. The other wand felt strange in his hand, but he ignored it in favour of retrieving the cloak. Before he could get to it though, Quirrel screamed, 'Release the stone!' as had risen, turning back to Harry and running at him.
Stuck focusing on keeping the stone from crashing down, Harry couldn't react quick enough to avoid the grasping hand on his own, but rather than removing the other wand by force, the contact sent Quirrel screaming with his hand blistering.
The stone steadied after the short drop; using the distraction, Harry tried to use the spell Quirrel had used to retrieve his cloak, but it hadn't worked and left him drained. Instead he ran over and picked his cloak back up, draping it over as best he could with just his half-clenched left hand and split concentration, the stone quivering as he did so.
'The boy! Get the boy!'
Quirrel hesitated momentarily before charging towards Harry again, this time enclosing his meek hands around Harry's half-visible neck and squeezing. The same sizzling repeated, Quirrel screaming in pain, while Harry felt his lungs unable to draw breath. Panicking, he dropped the wands, his hands trying to pry off the bubbling grip from his throat, but failing. Acting on instinct, he switched to trying to push Quirrel away, raising a leg and kicking off against his midriff. It managed to put a little distance between their bodies, but he was still being choked and now pulled down slightly. With his body screaming for air and brain refusing to work, his hands again tried to undo the clutch, all his intent on removing them.
A flash of turquoise light and the needed air flooded his lungs through his burning throat. Harry was barely aware of the shriek from Quirrel and a thump of flesh on stone, more focused on his own stinging and cramped muscles. Through bleary eyes, Harry watched the crimson pool forming beneath the now slumped body, before himself being overcome by exhaustion. The last his eyes saw was the shattered remains of the stone.
'Please Miss Granger, I appreciate your concern, but it will only take an hour at most to do the tests.'
'Fail me, I don't care, I'm not leaving him,' she hotly replied, glaring.
McGonagall sighed. 'Very well. I shall see if I can reschedule it for several days time,' she quietly said before exiting the infirmary. Pomfrey bustled passed her, stopping by the bed and replacing the cloth on Harry's forehead. She ran her wand along the length of his body, muttering incantations and getting different coloured glows as she did so. Hermione looked at her expectantly, but Pomfrey shook her head.
'It has only been a little under a day, I'm sure he'll be back up in no time,' Pomfrey whispered, smiling a reassuring smile at Hermione.
Left alone with him again, Hermione picked up his hand again, running her thumb around his palm. Slowly, the odd tear fell and was spread upon his palm. Her eyes remained glued to his eyelids, wishing for any kind of movement.
The others found her like that a little over an hour later. Neville took the seat on the other side of the bed, while Susan and Hannah sat either side of Hermione, trying to comfort her. Each melancholy, they spent a few hours in silence excluding when Pomfrey would stop by or quiet words of support were shared.
'It's dinnertime, dears,' Pomfrey said. Reluctantly, Neville, Susan and Hannah rose, but Hermione stayed seated. 'Please, Miss Granger, go eat something – you've already skipped breakfast and lunch.'
'I'm not hungry,' she mumbled.
The others looked torn, but Pomfrey hustled them out. 'I'll have something brought up for you,' Pomfrey conceded, slipping into her office. A tray of food appeared on Harry's bedside table and Pomfrey picked it up on returning, handing it to Hermione. Breaking contact with Harry, Hermione took it, only to have a couple of chips before resuming her previous position. 'Miss Granger, either eat the food or I'll admit you as a patient and force you to drink nutrient potions, which have a taste similar to dragon dung.'
Begrudgingly, Hermione returned to the food, having a bit more then stopping, at which point Pomfrey coughed loudly, pointing to the free bed next to Harry's, and the process repeated. Eventually, the plate had only crumbs left. After placing her cutlery down, Pomfrey tapped the tray with her wand and the plate disappeared only to be replaced by another with a small slice of chocolate cake.
'Yes, dessert too.'
By the time she had finished that as well, the others had come back, along with a small crowd who stood and stared at Harry. Hermione tried to ignore them, but they were always there in the corner of her eyes. Finally, she stood up, glaring at the gaggle and shouted, 'Would you stop staring! You didn't even know him, why are you here? Come to gawk at the Boy-Who-Lived because there's nothing better to do, is that it? Well?'
Most paled, some flushing pink with embarrassment. They hastily retreated, muttering goodbyes. Her anger subsiding, Hermione dropped down to her seat, sobbing. Susan tapped her and opened her arms. With that, Hermione practically fell over, crying onto Susan's shoulder while having her back rubbed.
Her muffled mumbling gradually became more coherent, until finally she picked herself off of Susan and asked the only question she cared about. 'He will wake up, won't he?'
Susan wasn't sure, but settled on saying, 'You know there's no way he'll miss the match against Ravenclaw, especially after all the work Wood put him through.'
They shared a weak smile. 'Like I'll let him on a broom after this,' Hermione quietly added.
A few more hours trickled by in relative silence. 'Curfew is coming up in ten minutes,' Pomfrey said, 'You should all go get a good nights rest.' Susan tried to pull Hermione up, but she wouldn't budge. When Hannah moved over to help, Pomfrey shook her head. After a final look over, they left. 'I'll set up a bed for you. Try to get some sleep tonight, Merlin knows how you've managed so far.'
Hermione's head bobbed slightly, but her eyes didn't leave Harry. Pomfrey dimmed the lights on the way back to her office and took her seat. After making sure the door was locked and the room silenced, she collapsed onto her desk, tears streaming down her cheek. Several minutes passed until she could collect herself. Taking a deep breath in, she removed the file on Harry, looking over the page she had started to list the results of some of the more intense scans she knew and had performed over the last day.
'Multiple broken bones... malnourishment... prolonged periods of starvation... numerous blood infections... numerous burns primarily to hands...' she muttered, going down the list. 'How did I miss this?' she barely whispered, 'What kind of a healer am I? He's so small and skinny; so reserved and obedient except,' she paused, not knowing how to easily describe the situation with Draco and the headmaster months ago. Shakily, she returned the file. Numbly, she looked through the one way glass into her infirmary at the patient and his vigil and quietly said, 'I can't even help him now. Could I live with myself if he doesn't wake?'
Hours ticked by while Pomfrey sipped on a pepper-up potion, her second of the day, keeping her up until she watched Hermione slump. She exited her office without making a sound.
After wordlessly casting a silencing charm around Hermione, Pomfrey said, 'Wingardium leviosa,' lifting Hermione into the air and moving her along slightly to the neighbouring bed. After placing her comfortably, Pomfrey retreated back to her office - saying, 'Goodnight,' as she did - and through into her private quarters, ensuring the appropriate alarms were set around Harry's bed.
Morning found Neville walking into the infirmary, taking up his seat opposite the groggy-looking Hermione. While he thought she looked terrible, he was pleased that she at least had seemingly had some sleep, as short as it may have been. He himself had trouble sleeping, having arrived with the first rays of the sunrise.
'Are you okay?' Hannah whispered, Susan walking over to take up her seat beside Hermione. 'You look a little peaky.'
Neville forced a smile, pausing before saying, 'D-don't like h-hospitals, that's all.' She smiled back before sitting on Hermione's other side.
Silence prevailed for a couple of hours. Pomfrey stepped out of her office, sighing at the depressing scene. She steeled herself, remaining stern as she strode over and said, 'It is breakfast time.'
Three stood and began shuffling away, though Neville stopped and looked back at Hermione. 'P-please come Hermione, he w-wouldn't want you to s-starve yourself.'
'Then he shouldn't go and get himself nearly killed,' she apathetically stated. Dejected, they left her.
Pomfrey proceeded to fetch and pour a few potions down Harry's throat. Afterwards, she disappeared to her office for a moment and, by the time she returned, a tray appeared on Harry's bedside table again. Hermione ate more readily this time, though left a bit more on her plate. Deciding not to push, Pomfrey left it at that, placing the tray back on the table where it then vanished.
'Miss Granger, I don't wish to intrude on the relationship between you and Mr Potter, but is there any parts of how he grew up that he wouldn't mind you telling me?'
Hermione thought over what she did know, the little that it was, remembering the context each was told. 'I-I think you know he was raised by muggles. They're his aunt, uncle and cousin and his cousin is treated better than him. There's more, but...'
Pomfrey picked up, saying, 'Don't worry, it's not important,' with the reassuring smile she had used abundantly the day before. After running through a handful of tests, she said, 'His magical reserves are full, so it should help the healing. The burns are nearly gone, but the damage to his windpipe still needs another day.'
'Should he be awake by now?'
'I still don't know what happened to him, but I would say give him another day or two before getting worried.'
Her head dropping slightly, Hermione asked, 'What if he doesn't wake up?'
It was the question Pomfrey had been dreading, but she wouldn't lie. 'If after two more days he hasn't, he will be transferred to St Mungo's, where specialists will check to make sure there isn't a physical reason for his condition and commit him to a ward for patients who are in a coma.'
There wasn't a response from Hermione; instead she went back watching Harry for any sign of movement. It wasn't long after when the rest came back, taking up their seats. Silence stayed in place for the hours until lunchtime. Hermione once again ate her meal at Pomfrey's insistence while the other three went to the hall.
Their return found the Gryffindor quidditch team in tow. At first Hermione was going to hound them, assuming they were only there to see if he would be ready for the match, but she stopped herself seeing their faces.
The twins pulled an extra three seats over, while Neville, Susan and Hannah quietly told Hermione they were going to the charms test and would be back in an hour. Katie and Alicia took the seats either side of Hermione, Angela adding a new seat beside Katie that was more in front of the bed. The twins took up where Neville was, Oliver completing the semi-circle.
Hermione wanted to ask why they were here, tell them they didn't need to be and thank them for being here anyway, all at once. The answer struck her though as she realised it was because they were his friends too. They may not have been as close as she was to him, but that didn't matter right now.
After another hour passed, in a silent change, the team was replaced and the extra chairs returned. They had been there for nearly half an hour when Susan excused herself, like they all had at times, heading into the toilets attached to the infirmary. After a few minutes, she returned, but Hermione was paying a bit more attention this time and noticed Susan's eyes were slightly puffy. Hermione wondered if that was the first time she had snuck off to cry. When Hannah did the same later on, Hermione concluded it wasn't.
Not long before dinner, Hermione looked up from Harry's bed and noticed that McGonagall was standing in the doorway to Pomfrey's office. Neville followed her gaze and said, 'Professor McGonagall s-stops by every few hours, b-but only talks to Madam Pomfrey.'
After McGonagall left, Pomfrey walked over and announced, 'Dinnertime. I'll get your food up in a moment Hermione.'
While the other three got up, Hermione quietly said, 'If Neville stays with me now, we can go down when Susan and Hannah finish.'
Neville smiled and sat back down. Pomfrey took a moment then answered, 'Very well.'
Quicker than normal, the two girls made their way down, ate and came back. Hermione and Neville left once they entered the infirmary. To Hermione, the walk to the hall had seemingly increased drastically in distance. Once they arrived, they took a seat in a bit of empty space where others had already finished, though most were still finishing their dinner. She hadn't really paid attention to who else was around, instead simply sitting and putting food on her plate.
So it was that she was startled when Ron loudly asked, from a few seats down, 'Hey, Hermione, you've spent the most time with Harry. He'll be ready to fly tomorrow, won't he?' She had already drawn her wand, thinking of which curse she had read about that would hurt him the most, when he suddenly squealed.
'Ronniekins,' Fred said,
'Needs to be quiet now,' George continued.
'Because otherwise.'
'Miss Johnson will be showing off.'
'Her infamous castration hex.'
While Ron looked terrified from only being able to sound like a pig, the threat didn't seem to land, so George added, 'She'll chop your balls off.' That definitely had the desired effect as he paled considerably.
'Thank you,' Hermione said, giving the pair of them a weak smile. 'Perhaps Miss Johnson wouldn't mind teaching me that hex?' The twins grinned back, though their eyes still lacked the typical glitter of mischief.
Fred began, 'We shall inquire,'
'On your behalf,' George finished.
The rest of the meal swiftly passed, except when Ron stood up and a few people half-heartedly laughed at his pink, spring-like tail. It was gone once he left the hall, Fred mentioning it was so those in the infirmary wouldn't have the unpleasant experience of his company at the moment.
Upon returning, they told Susan and Hannah of the events, each concurring with the wish to learn said hex; Neville apologised in advance for anything he, or Harry, may later say or do to result in them being at the other end of it. After that, the usual silence reigned, though Hermione noticed the odd few other visitors: McGonagall again; Flitwick; Sprout; Sinistra; Hooch; Hagrid (she wasn't sure how he missed him before); a dozen students from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw; even one Slytherin, though he was only there for a moment. None ventured closer than in-line with Pomfrey's office and Hermione wondered if that was because of her rant the previous day.
When curfew approached, Neville asked, 'W-will you be c-coming to the t-tower tonight?'
Hermione shook her head, replying, 'I'll sleep here again,' while patting the bed behind her. 'It's much comfier,' she added and they shared a smile. Pomfrey was along shortly after and Hermione was once again alone with Harry.
She took the time to remember all her favourite moments at Hogwarts, cherishing that they all coincided with her best friend. It seemed so long ago that she had boarded that scarlet train, heading off into the unknown with only herself; now she had friends whom she trusted so very much. One particular memory she enjoyed replaying and held a hand up to her cheek to push the tear away.
Her musings were cut short by the subtle sound of the infirmary door opening slightly. Looking up, she noticed a taller boy in Gryffindor robes with a prefect's badge standing inside slightly, though he moved over to a chair by the entrance. The gentle lighting made it hard to see, but she did know that Harry was the only patient here and deduced he would be here to see him. Cautiously, she raised her hand and waved to him and he returned it, though stayed where he was.
While not certain, she was pretty sure she knew who it was. Through the occasional look, she knew he was still there nearly an hour later, when her eyes had developed the habit of drooping and her brain the annoying tendency to momentarily dream. Deciding to give in, she pulled the curtains around her own bed, changing into a pair of Hogwarts-themed pyjamas that sat on the bedside table and snuggled under the plush duvet. Drifting off, she wondered if John had been there the previous night as well.
Pomfrey smiled from her office, going to bed herself. As night slipped onwards, John also left when the other seventh year prefect stopped by at around two in the morning. Sunshine soon streamed through and, seeing the curtains around Hermione's bed retreating, the prefect left, greeting Neville on her way back to bed.
Hermione though was already dressed and had taken a couple of steps forward to resume her seat when she looked at Harry, already tears welling up as she said, 'Morning Harry.'
Author notes
Well there we have it, the hardest chapter for me to write so far. The adventurous climax of the first year has arrived and gone in what I've written as a very split chapter. While I have replaced the original riddle with my own, it's only because I dislike directly copying and pasting work – not to mention a bit of poetry is good for the soul, even if it is about potions. After that, we have the slow couple of days with Hermione-centred interaction between the various circles Harry is involved in. I do have the solution for the riddle of course, feel free to post it if you want, and will be attaching it to the next chapter.
Unstorily, while this is technically being uploaded on Sunday for me, I think I can still count it as Saturday really. Why anyone would particularly care about me saying this, I'm not sure, but it does make it two updates on time in a row. Given I have half term this coming week, I may end up writing a bit more and producing an extra chapter for Saturday or I may not - more on this next time.
As a final request, if you are leaving a review, could you also leave your thoughts as to whether or not I should release the second year as a separate story or simply continue this one. I ask as I would like to take this up to seventh year (I promise no overuse of tents will occur), but would make the end result some monstrously large amount (over a hundred chapters / half a million words.) Separating it though seems pointless as it is the same story really. Anyway, opinions wanted please.
Until next time, make like a Philosopher's Stone and shatter!