Chapter 6: A Spot of Adventure

"You're going after Snape yourself?" Hermione asked in scornful tones. For some unfathomable reason, she didn't seem to believe me. Imagine my surprise.

"Well of course I am!" I exclaimed, rallying magnificently. "What else am I going to do, sit here and let him take the Stone? Merlin only knows what he'd do with it!"

"Surely he'd use it to live forever in incredible wealth?" Ron said, frowning in concentration. Hermione and I shared a glance.

"Well…yes, precisely. We can't let him do that, can we?" I told him as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

In truth, I'll admit Ron's comment had caused me a little confusion. I understood of course why the Stone was not in the public domain, but what on earth was it doing in Hogwarts? If this Flamel chap had made it, why had he got rid of it? I'd keep it where I could see it, let me tell you! The thought did cross my mind – very, very briefly – that maybe Dumbledore had stolen it, and that Snape had been tasked with retrieving it…but then I quickly realised that theory didn't take into account two basic things: first, that Dumbledore, while a steely sort underneath it all, would never steal anything, let alone his friend's life work; and second, that Snape would never help anyone but himself, bastard that he was (a perfectly sensible attitude, in my opinion).

"So, O heroic one, what's the plan?" Hermione asked, folding her arms and raising an enquiring eyebrow.

I returned her gaze balefully. "Well…I'll…what I mean to say is…"

"Do you know how to get past the dog?"

I racked my brains, but I couldn't for the life of me remember what had been said that night. For the first time in my life (and almost the last) I cursed my habit of getting stinking drunk at any opportunity. I only wanted to shut her up, you understand. No man likes to be looked at like that by a woman, buck-toothed and frizzy haired though she was.

"I'll think of something," I told her. I know, I know, pitiful, but I'd like to see you do better under that kind of stress.

The eyebrow went higher. "Marvellous. And what happens if you get past – sorry, when you get past, of course. Do you have any idea what's beneath the trapdoor?"

"Well…not in so many words," I admitted.

Her eyebrow was now reaching positively stratospheric levels. "Well, I can see you've got all of this under control. Snape's as good as stopped already, clearly."

"Look, Granger, if you're not going to help why don't you just go back to bed?" I told her snappily. I immediately wanted to kick myself for saying it; I really couldn't afford to piss her off. Fortunately for me – and somewhat to my surprise – she simply shook her head vigorously.

"I'm coming with you. We all know what Snape's like, and I really don't like the idea of him getting his hands on such a powerful artefact. We've got a responsibility to do whatever we can to stop him!" Before I could say anything, she'd aimed her wand at Longbottom. "Finite Incantatem!"

To my horror, Longbottom immediately went limp (probably the first and last time in his life, if what Hannah Abbott claimed was accurate. Bastard) as Granger cancelled one of the first successful spells I'd ever cast. I cringed, anticipating the angry yells, Longbottom leaping to his feet and declaiming my backstabbing nature to all and sundry…

"Wow, Harry, I think he's unconscious!" Ron exclaimed.

"Seriously? That's fan…that's awful, simply awful," I lied through my teeth, repressing a grin. Ron, bless him, was fooled completely. I'm rather certain that Hermione wasn't, but she was too caught up in proceedings to say anything. Small mercies etc etc!

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God knows where Filch was that night. Maybe he only worked so tirelessly when Dumbledore was around, and slacked off when the coast was clear. He wouldn't be the only person to have sucked up to the Headmaster. Regardless, we made our way to the third floor in relative peace and quiet, aside from my knees knocking and my better nature screaming at me to get the fuck out of there. I couldn't believe that I'd landed myself in this situation, but I couldn't see any way out of it. The only thing to do was blunder onwards and pray that I hadn't used up all my luck gambling.

We reached the pertinent corridor, and I eyed the door dubiously. It was slightly ajar, as if to encourage anybody who walked past to investigate. I was feeling quite the opposite, so I took the next best option:

"Ron, just nip in and check what's going on will you?"

My loyal companion paid no attention to Hermione's outraged yelp, and thrust the door open with no regard for whatever horrors it might have been concealed. Thankfully for us all, what was revealed was a snoring dog. I did my best not to let out a joyous shout. Hermione glared at me, and stormed into the room, looking around with interest. She, of course, had never seen the dog before. There was a harp in the corner, playing a melodious tune on itself. Just in front of the dog was a trap door. There was no other way out of the room.

"This must be it then," Ron remarked, grabbing the handle and tugging it upwards.

As the trapdoor opened, the main door slammed shut, and the harp fell apart. The hideous beast's eyes snapped open, and it stood up, shaking itself awake. It growled, a terrible sound that rattled my bones.

Naturally, I turned and tried to run. Can you blame me?

Unfortunately, when the door had slammed, something had stuck the lock shut. In desperation, I even tried the spell that Ron had used to unlock it months ago – but whether it was my general incompetence or something else, the door remained resolutely shut tight. I spun around, looking at the dog's three heads, and let out a quiet little whimper.

"Close your eyes!"

I was all too happy to do so, but even through my eyelids I could see the vicious flash that emanated from Hermione's wand. The beast howled, and I felt someone dragging me forward. I opened my eyes just as Hermione pushed me through the trapdoor. I landed with a thud in something soft. It reeked. And then Ron landed on top of me.

"Gah! Get off me you halfwit!" I pushed him away from me, scrabbling to my feet and wiping my robes down. Hermione shot through the trap door with a yell, and landed next to me. I scowled at her, and examined my robes. They were ruined. "Bloody hell…do you have any idea how much these robes cost?"

"Do you honestly think I care? You ran! Like a scared little boy!"

Well yes. Of course I had. "It was a strategic withdrawal," I told her, putting on my best poker face. She rolled her eyes and turned away, muttering a word under her breath. Her wand burst into light, and she held it up, revealing the room we had found ourselves in. It was a little squalid, to say the least. Plants were growing out of the walls, and vines hung from the ceiling. They looked vaguely familiar. "Did that Sprout woman have some of those?"

Hermione looked up, and blanched. "Oh my God, Incend-"

She was cut off mid incantation as one of the vines snapped round her hand, and yanked her into the air. Her wand clattered to the floor as she wriggled, and I realised that more vines were heading my way. Years of ducking out of fights served me well; I ducked out of the way and pressed myself against the wall with a sigh of relief. I appeared to be out of their reach. Ron was not so lucky. True, he had avoided the vines – it was the plants by the walls that were causing him problems. They were making a very spirited attempt to eat him; two had ensnared his arms, and a third was trying to take a bite out of his leg. I let out a scream as something slithered behind me, and I dived forward, rolling into a foetal position and trying very, very hard not to be seen.

"Harry! Harry, you've got to help us!" Hermione yelled from above me. "It's simple enough, they don't like fire-"

Another vine snapped around her neck, throttling her. She started tugging at it with her free hand, her face slowly turning red. I looked round the room frantically, and almost wept.

"There's nothing to light a fire with!"

She wrenched the vine free from her neck, and looked down at me furiously. "Are you mad? Are you a wizard or not?"

It was as if a light-bulb had gone off in my head: I reached into the pocket of my robe and withdrew my pipe and matches. Wizarding matches are a great deal more robust than those you find in the Muggle world, and I struck one, holding it to every bit of greenery I could find. Hermione was right; they really didn't like fire. I could almost hear them shrieking in agony as they withered away before the flame, and I felt strangely sorry for them. Perhaps a bit of kinship – they hadn't asked to be here, facing dangerous maniacs with flames, and I really wanted to be tucked up in bed with a bottle of brandy. The vines released Ron and Hermione, and she fell to the floor with a thud. She looked up at me, her face partly obscured by those awful tangles of hair, and growled.

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind, Harry. You do have your wand, I assume?"

"Oh!" It honestly hadn't occurred to me – not that it would have been much use, of course. I took it out and waved it at her. "Yes, right here. It worked though, didn't it?"

She looked very much as if she wanted to ram the matches somewhere painful, and I hurriedly looked around the room. Now the plants had retreated, a door had become visible. I pointed at it. "That way, I think."

She grabbed her wand, and strode over to the door, kicking it open in a huff. I gulped, and followed her, beckoning Ron after me. The corridor we found ourselves in appeared to be empty, although I doubted even Ron was foolish enough to believe that was true. With an effort, I lit my wand, with Ron following suit. It seemed to stretch on forever. We looked at each other and I shrugged. "Well, onward ever onward, I suppose. If we really must…"

We trudged on. You'd have thought an empty corridor would have been soothing, but no, quite the opposite. While I did of course appreciate the lack of ravenous beasties, abnormal plant-life or dangerous magic, I kept expecting to stumble across them, you see. And not with any sense of eager anticipation, either. After ten minutes walking along the blasted corridor, I was starting to feel my bowels clench with nerves.

Eventually, Hermione called a halt. "This is ridiculous, it's going on forever! Hold on…" She faced the wall, and flicked her wand, muttering a word under her breath. Streaks of paint flew from the tip of her wand, spattering against the wall in a Pollock-esque pattern. "Right then, let's go."

Ron looked at me curiously. "What did she do that for?"

I hadn't a blessed idea, but I could bluff with the best of them. "It's a Muggle thing, Ron, don't worry about it. She must have learnt it in Brownies or something."

Ron frowned. "I didn't think Muggles knew about Brownies. And how would she have learnt anything from them? They're vicious little buggers if you're not careful."

"What? No, not actual Brownies, it's…" I shook my head. "Never mind, it's not important. Come on."

We hurried to catch up with her, and kept walking. And walking. And walking. And then all of a sudden, there was paint on the wall next to us. I pointed at it. "Hang on a moment. Hermione, didn't you put that there? How can it be in front of us? We've been walking in a straight line!"

She had a triumphant little smile on her face. "I knew it. I've read about this, it's a Never Ending Charm."

"A what?" I asked, nonplussed.

"They used to use them in pyramids, and places like that. You cast the charm, and the corridor-"

"Never ends," I muttered. Well, I might not be any good at magic, but I'm not an idiot.

"Pretty much. I'm not entirely sure how to break it though," Hermione said, clearly a painful admission. "It's a fairly obscure charm these days. Something to do with perception, but the book wasn't entirely clear."

"If it's never ending, then why's there a door there?" Ron pointed further down the corridor. He was right: after nearly half an hour of walking along the bloody thing, we could finally see the end. It hadn't been there a minute before.

"That must be it!" Hermione exclaimed, with unbearable enthusiasm. "Perception – once we realised that the corridor was enchanted, the enchantment broke. It's obvious, when you think about it."

"Oh yes, absolutely. I was just about to say that myself," I told her, trying to sound knowledgeable. She shook her head and walked onwards. The door opened to reveal a cavernous chamber. The path spread out, creating a wide ledge, but ended somewhat abruptly a couple of feet in front of the door, tapering off to a hole. Quite a large one, in fact. The way out was on the other side of the gap. Ron approached the gap, and dropped a pebble he'd picked up over the edge. We didn't hear it hit the floor.

"Oh well, we tried." I turned back the way we had arrived. "Come on, best get back, let them know."

"And tell them what? That you just gave up without trying?" Hermione had a knowing look on her face, as if she'd just played her ace in the hole. I stopped, and sighed. She was right of course. Hermione always was a damnably good judge of character, and at times it often felt like she knew me better than I knew myself. And I knew what people would say. Even if it was perfectly reasonable for me not to have a clue how to get past traps designed by some of the best minds in the world, the public would never accept that. If I was to get through this with any shred of my reputation intact – and therefore keep myself in the life to which I had become accustomed – I had little choice but to press onwards.

Being a celebrity is hard work, sometimes.

"Alright then, what do you suggest?" I looked over the edge of the path, and shuddered. Not vertigo – you don't get to be as good on a broom as I am if you're afraid of heights. No, as a wise man once said, it's not the fall that kills you, it's the sudden stop…and here you couldn't even see the bloody stop. I turned back to find Hermione poking around on the floor.

"Have you noticed all this sand?" She stood up and walked the breadth of the ledge. "It's everywhere."

I looked down, and cursed. She was right, the sand was getting everywhere. My robes were quite definitely ruined. I didn't think even magic could clean them properly now. "So the place is dirty. What of it?"

"I'm going to try something…" She drew her wand, and held it steady in front of her. I stood back, discretely stepping behind Ron. Merlin only knew what she was about to do, but I saw no reason not to have someone to hide behind if necessary.

The sand whirled.

Merlin's wrinkly balls, she was moving the sand. Not simple levitation, but some form of Transfiguration. I knew that I would never manage such a spell, even if I lived to be older than Dumbledore.

I shrugged. No great loss.

The sand slowly moved out over the gaping hole, a pale, shimmering bridge. Hermione flicked her eyes over at me. "Come on."

"What?"

"Go on! Get over there!"

I looked at the bridge, then back to her, than back at the bridge. "No. Oh hell no. It's sand, Hermione! I'm not walking on that!"

"I can't hold it much longer – it's not finished as it is!"

"Oh well that's a massive comfort! 'Go on, Harry, walk out over a fathomless drop on an unfinished bridge that's made out of fucking sand!" I try never to shout at girls, since it makes them significantly less likely to want to shag you rotten, but I have my limits. "Hermione, I hang out with Ron and this is by far the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

Ron didn't say anything to this. Well, I don't think he did. Who cared?

"Harry, please!" Hermione said through gritted teeth. "You're the only one who can stop him now, you know that don't you? I know you can do it really."

"What? But…oh damn it all!" I looked at the bridge once more, and sighed. Perhaps there really was a spark of decency in me after all. Or maybe I was just subconsciously aware that Hermione could ruin me, if she talked. I mean, it's not like I was good enough to Memory Charm her. "Ron, you go first."

"Sure thing!" He bounded out over the gap with bizarre enthusiasm, and miraculously didn't fall straight through it. "It feels fine, Harry. I promise."

Well, you can imagine how much value I put on one of Ron's promises, but I wasn't really in a position to argue. I put one tentative foot on the bridge. Surprisingly, he was right. It did seem fairly solid. I walked further out, sure that it would collapse at any moment.

"Hurry up…" Hermione groaned behind me. I looked back to find that she had fallen to one knee. The strain had burst a vessel somewhere, and blood was trickling from her nose.

We ran. Ron leapt at the door, bursting it open with his weight, and I fell through just as the bridge collapsed completely. The sand fell down into the dark abyss below.

"Hermione! Hermione, are you alright?" Ron called.

She didn't reply. Ron looked at me, stricken.

"Well, that's us fucked then," I told him gloomily. "Come on, better make the best of it…" I set off down the hallway, and after a moment he followed.

For a second, I thought we were in another Never Ending corridor. It was certainly dark enough. It felt different though. Darker. For reasons that may become clear later, I've always had a certain sense for these things. Something was quite definitely wrong in this corridor. We came to a point where the corridor turned at ninety degrees, and I carried on without pause.

"Harry…what's this?" Ron was looking at a carving on the wall behind me. It looked like pictures I'd seen of Viking letters while at the Dursleys – but what it was doing underneath Hogwarts, I couldn't say.

"Buggered if I know. Come on…"

He followed me, but before we'd gone far there was a sudden light from behind us, and a roaring noise. I really didn't want to know what it was…but it was irresistible, somehow. I turned round to see that there was a bloody wall of flame coming down the corridor.

We stood there in silence, raising our wands to try and fight it.

Really? You believed that? Of course we didn't, we ran like the hordes of Hell were coming our way, make no mistake about it! We ran until we ran out of floor, and I mean that literally. It fell away under us and we landed with a splash.

Years at Smeltings had left me with a keen athletic ability, and a talent for swimming. I managed to stay afloat, but Ron was not so lucky. The fire slammed into another wall above us, vanishing in a shower of sparks. They faded away as they hit the water, briefly illuminating the side of the pool, and another door.

"I really hate wizards… Ron, you alright?"

There was no response. I looked at him to find him floating face down in the water, and I rolled my eyes. "Come on, man up old chap. We all take a belly flop once in a while, nothing to be ashamed of." He ignored me, and I poked him irritably. The water felt rather gloopy, and I looked at it more closely. "This isn't water…" I sniffed it cautiously. I'll admit, I was bloody useless at Potions, a fact Snape never hesitated to mention, but I recognised the smell of them. It was a vast pool of some clearly unpleasant brew. Naturally, I swam for the side of the pool instantly. I dragged myself out, and looked back. Ron was still there. I groaned; I really didn't want to get back in there, but selfish though I may be, I wasn't quite ready to just let someone die like that. Even Ron deserved a better fate than that.

See? I told you I had standards.

I swam back out, and dragged him to the side. I hadn't a clue how to do CPR, and I wasn't even sure if it would work under the circumstances, so I just left him there. I opened the final door with a weary sigh. It couldn't possibly get any worse.

Famous last words.