A/N: A revised chapter.
Chapter 9: Rendezvous with Voldemort
The Great Hall was buzzing with carefree activity. It was dinnertime and the hall was full with students which was a rarity in the past one week of exams. Students preferred studying in their rooms only; thanks to the racket Weasley twins used to make in the Great Hall.
The Famous Five were seated in the far corner of Ravenclaw table; they always preferred this table when they did not want to be disturbed. They didn't want to come for dinner, but as Hermione had pointed out, that would have made Professor McGonagall suspicious. However, they soon left the Great Hall when they didn't find Professors Snape and Quirrell there.
As soon as they reached the stairs leading to Gryffindor common room Harry took out the invisibility cloak and gave it to Dudley. Hermione, Dudley and Ayesha covered themselves under the cloak and started for the third corridor.
Harry and Ron went upstairs and waited outside the Gryffindor common room. Since dinner was still going on in the Great Hall, there was hardly anyone around the common room. Soon, they saw Hermione striding towards them.
"Everything okay?" asked Ron.
"Yes," answered Hermione, "The door was ajar which means Snape's already gone through the trapdoor."
"Let's not waste time," said Harry.
They looked around for any sign of students, then covered themselves under the cloak and went to the third corridor.
"He's already gone. Damn it!" said Ayesha angrily.
"Look," Dudley pointed to the left side of the three-headed-dog, "there's a harp. Snape must have charmed it; it's still playing."
"Come, let's try lifting the trapdoor," said Ayesha, carefully stepping over the sleeping-dog's legs.
Together, Dudley and Ayesha lifted the trapdoor with its ring.
"It's all black, no way of going down," said Dudley peering into the opening of the door.
"Who knows how deep it is!" said Ayesha, "I wish they'd hurry up."
They waited for few minutes in silence, ready with the flute, in case harp stopped playing. Abruptly, Ron, Hermione and Harry materialised out of thin air in front of them. Ayesha and Dudley told them about the harp and trapdoor.
"Who wants to go first?" Ron asked.
"I'll go first," answered Dudley, stepping closer to the trapdoor opening.
He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Harry and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hobbit to Dumbledore, right?"
"Right," answered Harry.
"See you … soon, I hope," said Dudley and then he let go.
Dudley went through the tunnel; it was cold and damp. He landed on something soft with a muffled thump.
"It's okay," he yelled, "it's soft landing, you can jump."
Harry came first, followed by Ayesha, Ron and finally, Hermione.
"We must be miles under the school," said Ayesha, looking at the postage stamp-sized opening of the trapdoor.
"Lucky this plant thing's here," started Ron, "or we wo--"
"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione, "Look at you, all."
She leapt up and struggled towards the wall. Others, however, could not follow her. They were bound by the plant; Hermione had freed herself before the plant got a firm grip on her.
"Damn it! It's Devil's Snare," said Dudley, trying to remove the plant from his ankles.
"Yes … what did Professor Sprout say about it?" said Hermione, thinking hard, "it likes dark and damp … yes fire."
With that she muttered something and sent a jet of blue fire. Within seconds, the plant loosened its grip around the kids. They hurriedly got up and joined Hermione. Wiping the sweat from their foreheads, they started moving in the passageway.
"Lucky, Hermione pays attention to what all Professor Sprout says," said Harry.
"How did you know what it is, Dudley?" asked Ron, "I never knew you're that attentive in her class."
"Neville told me once," answered Dudley, "Malfoy played a trick on him with this plant, but failed. Neville is too good in Herbology. I only remembered the name, though."
They kept moving down the damp, cold and dark passageway, until they saw light ahead and heard some sounds.
"Can you hear it?" Ayesha asked.
"Sounds like wings to me," Harry answered.
"Move cautiously," Dudley whispered.
They came to a halt at the end of passageway. It was a brightly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.
"Do you think these birds will hurt us if we cross the chamber?" asked Ron.
"Well, we'll have to try," said Ayesha, "I'll try." With that she sprinted across the chamber.
Nothing happened. Seeing that, others also sprinted across the room. They tried opening the door, but it would not budge even after trying the Alohomora charm.
"These birds can't be here for show," said Hermione, looking at the birds, "God! They're keys. One of them will open the door."
"How to get them?" asked Ron.
"Look!" said Ayesha, pointing to the far corner of the chamber, "There're brooms there. We got to fly to get them."
"Only three brooms. Harry, Ayesha and I'll fly." asked Dudley, taking a broom in his hand and passing the others to Harry and Ayesha.
"Which one out of these many?" asked Harry, kicking off into the air. Dudley and Ayesha joined him in a moment.
Ron examined the lock and yelled, "Look for a silver coloured, old fashioned one."
Hermione, meanwhile, was looking at the keys, trying to locate the correct one. Suddenly she yelled, "Ayesha! That's the key! Crumpled one. Near you. Yes."
Ayesha, Dudley and Harry flew towards the key but it dived. They met mid-air, planned a strategy to corner the key and flew towards it. After minutes of flying through the chamber, Dudley was successful in grabbing the key in a very difficult manoeuvre. Others cheered loudly for him. He landed quickly and immediately they unlocked the door.
The first thing they noticed entering the next chamber was darkness. It took a moment for them to get accustomed to the dark and make out the giant chessboard in front of them.
"We'll have to play chess to get across the chamber," said Ron, looking around.
"Yes, there's the door," said Dudley, pointing to the door across the room, behind the white king.
"How will we play this chess?" asked Ayesha.
"We're going to have to be chessmen," answered Ron. He walked up to a black knight and touched it. It sprang to life; the horse pawed down and knight got down, handing his helmet to Ron. Ron got onto the horse.
"Since none of you is good in chess, I'll have to direct," said Ron. "Don't mind," he added.
"We don't," said Harry, "just tell us what to do."
Ron told them to take their positions on the chess board. He guided them through the board. The shock came when their knight was taken by the white chessmen; they hit the knight and dragged him across the board.
Ron was muttering to himself. After a moment, he looked at the queen and nodded. "Yes … I've got to be taken. That's the only way."
"No!" All four yelled in unison.
"There's no other way. You want to stop Snape or not? I'm going ahead. That will leave you free to checkmate the king, Hermione." Ron yelled in response.
He was looking pale but determined. "Don't wait for me. Okay? Ready?" with that he stepped forward and was pounced upon by the white queen. She hit him and Ron was knocked out. She, then, dragged him across the board.
Hermione moved forward as directed by Ron. The white king threw his crown and all the white chessmen moved apart giving them way.
With one last look at Ron, they moved into the next chamber. Immediately a disgusting smell filled their nostrils. In the far corner was a troll, staring at them. He seemed hurt; he had few bruises on his head and face. Definitely Snape's work, Harry thought.
"He's hurt," whispered Dudley, "It won't be difficult to cross the chamber. We just need a distraction."
"Distraction?" asked Hermione.
"I'm thinking …" answered Dudley, "Okay … I'll try to distract him away from the door and as soon as he moves out of the way, you guys cross the room. Okay?"
"We won't leave you with him, Dudley," yelled Harry.
"Shut up!" whispered Dudley, "Did you hear Ron or not? This troll won't be dangerous as he's hurt."
The troll was now moving towards the kids, with great difficulty. His knee is also hurt, noticed Dudley. Dudley immediately told the others his plan. He moved towards the troll, while others receded into the shadows. Dudley levitated the flute given to Harry by Hagrid and hit it on the troll's knee wound. The troll winced and his knee collapsed. Dudley signalled others to move forward quietly. The troll got up in a minute. Dudley muttered something and enlarged the flute till it was the size of baseball. Dudley tried hitting the troll with it but he dodged. The troll lifted Dudley with his giant hands. Dudley saw Harry, Ayesha and Hermione at the door. He signalled Hermione, who shot a jet of the blue fire towards the troll. Simultaneously, Dudley levitated the baseball sized flute up to make it thrash the troll's head. The fire took the troll by surprise. He loosened his grip on Dudley, who fell to ground with a loud thud. The troll turned to look at his attacker, who had crossed the door by now, when the baseball sized flute crashed the troll's head. He also fell down with a much louder thud, beside Dudley.
Dudley dragged himself to prop himself by the wall. He had fallen sideways resulting in a very painful shoulder, a wound on his temple from which blood was flowing freely and maybe a fracture in the leg. He was thankful that others had crossed the room. He took out his handkerchief and tied it to his wound around the temple. Movement was impossible, so he simply rested his head against the wall.
"I hope Dudley's fine," said Harry, as he closed the door. As soon as he closed the door, it was replaced by a wall of purple fire
"He'll be," said Ayesha, "He has to be."
"I think this is Snape's," said Hermione moving forward towards a table which had seven bottles of God-knows-what fluids. There was a wall of black fire ahead of them.
"What do we've to do?" asked Ayesha.
"Look! There's a paper here," said Harry.
He took the paper and read it. When nothing made sense to him, he handed it to Hermione. Hermione read it aloud. It was a puzzle.
"What do we do now? We'll be stuck up here. This doesn't make sense," exclaimed Harry, pacing up and down the chamber."
"It does, Harry," said Hermione. She was the only one smiling. "Give me a minute. I'll solve it.
She read the paper many times, moved up and down the table, looking at different bottles. At last, she clapped her hands.
"Got it," she said, "the smallest bottle has the potion that will help us to pass through the black fire."
Ayesha picked up the smallest bottle. "It hardly has enough potion for two people."
"Which one'll help getting out of the purple flames?" asked Harry.
"The biggest one," answered Hermione.
"One of us has to get back to Dudley and Ron, to contact Dumbledore. We're, after all, kids. We are no match for Snape," said Ayesha, "Who will go back? I'm going to stop Snape."
Harry looked at Hermione, who nodded in understanding. Harry and Ayesha were personally involved in this.
"I'll go back," Hermione said. "You guys go through the fire first."
Harry took a gulp from the smallest bottle, looked at Hermione and went to the black fire. He heard Hermione wishing him luck before he went into the black fire.
For a moment it was all dark and then, he emerged on the other side of fire, in the last chamber.
Someone was already there, but not Snape. It was … Quirrell.
"You!" Harry gasped.
Quirrell turned around to face Harry. He appeared normal, not at all twitching. He smiled at Harry.
"I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter," he said. He was not even stammering.
"I thought …" stammered Harry, "—Snape --"
"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, coldly and sharply, "Yes, yes. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrel?"
"But … he tried to kill me."
"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Had it not been for your friend Granger knocking me accidentally, I would have been able to knock you off the broom, even with Severus muttering a counter-curse to protect you."
Quirrell muttered something and ropes sprang from his wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.
"You are too nosy to live, Harry. Always spoiling my plans, even on Halloween when I let the troll in. Now you will stay here quiet till I am finished with this mirror." With that he turned around.
It was just then that Harry noticed the mirror. It was Mirror of Erised. Harry's mind was racing. Where's Ayesha? We need to stop Quirrell from looking into it or he'll find the stone. Where are you Ayesha?
Ayesha turned to go when Hermione hugged her. Ayesha could feel her own heart beating faster and louder and was sure Hermione had heard it.
"Hermione, thanks for letting me go. I … I should have … I --"
"I know, Ayesha," Hermione said gently, "We all know. This is not the time. Best of luck."
Ayesha stared at Hermione. Tears were starting to form in Ayesha's eyes. She wiped them quickly.
"Th … Thanks," Ayesha whispered. She turned quickly and went into the black fire."
When she reached the other side of fire, she saw Harry bound with ropes and her eyes immediately followed Harry's line of sight. She saw Quirrell standing near a mirror. Quirrell Mirror … this is Mirror of Erised. What is he doing with it?
Ayesha hid herself behind a pillar. She tried removing Harry's ropes with few spells she knew, but they were strong. After all, it's Quirrell working for Voldemort. She tried catching Harry's attention, but Harry was looking in Quirrell's direction. Just then she heard Harry talk to Quirrell. She understood; Harry was trying to distract Quirrell's concentration on mirror. It was mirror which contained the stone. She needed to see in the mirror and get the stone first. She manoeuvred behind the pillars towards the mirror, while Harry was talking to Quirrell.
"You said Snape tried to save me. Why? He hates me so much," Harry said.
"Oh, he does," answered Quirrell casually, "Don't you know? He was with your father at Hogwarts and they hated each other. But Snape doesn't want you dead."
"But Dudley heard you a few days ago, sobbing -– We thought Snape was threatening you..."
For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.
"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions -– he is a great wizard and I am weak --"
"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.
"He was that day and has always been since then," replied Quirrell. "He doesn't forgive mistakes easily." He again turned to mirror, "I don't understand … should I break the mirror? Help me, Master!"
To Harry's horror, a voice answered. "Use the boy."
There were two more pillars between Ayesha and Quirrell. She was still thinking about a way to get Quirrell away from the mirror to look into the mirror without Quirrell noticing it, when she heard a voice say – "Use the boy".
She froze on the spot, her eyes wide, her wrists clenched, and her body immobile. She was not in the chamber beneath the school; she was reliving the nightmare that had so often woken her up in the middle of nights. She was snapped out of her nightmare when she heard the voice again – "He lies. Let me talk to him face to face."
To Harry's horror, a voice answered. "Use the boy."
Quirrell walked up to Harry, removed his ropes and dragged him in front of mirror.
"Tell me what do you see?" he ordered.
Harry looked into the mirror and saw himself. A moment later, his reflection smiled at him and put a red stone in his left pocket. Harry felt the weight of the stone in his left pocket.
"Tell me what do you see?" Quirrell repeated.
"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry invented, "I have won the house cup for Gryffindor." What is Ayesha doing? Do something, Ayesha.
Before Quirrell could say anything, Harry heard the voice again.
"He lies. Let me talk to him face to face."
"But Master," said Quirrell, "You are not strong enough."
"I have enough strength for the boy," the voice replied.
Slowly, Quirrell unwrapped his turban. His head was strangely small without it. Then Quirrell turned around.
"He lies. Let me talk to him face to face."
Ayesha's head was spinning; memories of her family were whirling through her mind. She took the support of the pillar to steady herself.
"I have enough strength for the boy."
This is not the time. This is not the time. This is not the time. This is… Hermione words echoed in Ayesha's mind. She needed to act. She forced herself to glance at the scene before her. Quirrell was unwrapping his turban. Ayesha saw Harry standing in front of Quirrell, staring at him. Ayesha moved behind two pillars. Now she was standing behind Quirrell. She tried catching Harry's eye and this time she was successful. Harry motioned towards the mirror and his pocket. Quirrell was busy unwrapping his turban or else he would have caught this little communication.
Ayesha ducked behind the pillar in time. Quirrell removed the last fold of his turban and turned around.
Harry saw Ayesha ducking behind the pillar just when Quirrell finished unwrapping his turban and turned.
Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.
"Harry Potter..." it whispered.
Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.
"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapour ... I have form only when I can share another's body... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"
So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward.
"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me ... or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy..."
"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.
Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.
"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."
"NEVER!"
Ayesha peeped from behind the pillar and saw Quirrell standing facing the mirror. She saw Harry staring at the back of Quirrell's head. Ayesha moved back two pillars to see the thing Harry was staring at. Ayesha forced herself to focus at Harry and think of way out. She could feel her blood boiling. We have to get out. Harry has got the stone. We have to get out. She repeatedly forced herself to think of a way out, but she was failing miserably. She couldn't empty her mind of the images running through her mind, the cries of her mother, shouts of his father …. If she could just get rid of these …
"NEVER!"
Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened -– he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers -– they were blistering before his eyes.
Harry heard Voldemort scream again and Quirrell lunged at him, knocking him on the floor. He landed on Harry and gripped his hands around Harry's neck. Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.
"Master, I cannot hold him -– my hands -– my hands!"
And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms -– Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.
"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.
Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but suddenly grabbed his temple. Harry saw a marble rolling on the ground and understood, though he was surprised Ayesha used a slingshot instead of magic.
Before Quirrell could move, Harry punched him in his face. Again Harry felt the blinding pain and saw Quirrell's cheek blistering. Harry understood – Quirrell couldn't touch Harry bare-skin without himself feeling terrible pain.
Quirrell had rolled to his side and was about to get up when Ayesha's spell knocked him on to the ground. Harry jumped to his feet and onto Quirrell. He hung on as tight as he could. He saw Quirrell howling with pain; Ayesha removing Quirrell's wand out of his hand; producing ropes out of her wand … the pain in Harry's head was building. He couldn't see. He could hear Quirrell screaming, Voldemort yelling "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and Ayesha shouting "Harry! HARRY!"
When Ayesha saw Quirrell raise his wand, Ayesha forced her mind shut. It was difficult for her to concentrate to do some spell and she couldn't punch Quirrell as Voldemort was watching his back. So, Ayesha took out her slingshot and aimed it at Quirrell. It hit him hard on the temple and instead of aiming a spell at Harry, he grabbed his temple. Harry was looking terrible, but this was not the time to count the wounds.
She saw Harry punching Quirrell; Quirrell's cheeks blistering and Harry yelling with pain; and she understood – Harry's touch was making Quirrell's skin burn and causing terrible pain to Harry also. She shot a spell at Quirrell and knocked him down again. She saw Harry lunge on Quirrell, while she removed Quirrell's wand out of his grip.
She muttered a spell; ropes came out of her wand. They were not strong enough to hold Quirrell for long; she needed to stun Quirrell, somehow. The moment she directed her magical ropes towards Quirrell, she felt a pain shot through her. Her grip on her wand faltered before she steadied it. She looked at Harry; blood was flowing freely out of his scar and he was about to pass out. She needed to act fast.
She again directed the magical ropes towards Quirrell. The moment the ropes touched Quirrell, pain like never before, shot through her. This time, however, she could not move or turn. She saw Harry writhing with pain; Quirrell screaming with pain; Voldemort excitedly ordering Quirrell to kill Harry. She tried moving, to free herself of the unknown grip, to help Harry, to stop Voldemort, but she couldn't. She had fallen to the ground; she felt devoid of any energy, even to scream with the pain she was feeling. It felt as if she will split into many pieces, as if someone was trying to empty her from within, as if she will die. And then, she died … or so she felt.
Harry knew he couldn't hold Quirrell for long. He hoped, even in his pain, that Ayesha had done something to stop him. Ayesha? He tried looking around for Ayesha. He couldn't see her, he couldn't hear her. The pain in his head was too much; it felt as if his scar would split into two. He located her; she was beside Quirrell, twisting with pain, blood was gushing out of her mouth. Ayesha! AYESHA! Harry wanted to scream but he couldn't. Ayesha! Aye…
He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down ... down... down...