Chapter 22

To Follow in His Footsteps

Quirinus Quirrell had never felt so confident, so assertive, so poised in his entire life. Is this what it feels like to believe in a worthy cause? To be part of something bigger than yourself? Anything was possible when the Dark Lord was your guide, illuminating the righteous path. He glided along with a sense of purpose and power normally reserved for the self-assured elite. The old fool's safeguards had been no match for him – with the Dark Lord watching my back anything was possible. It was so close, pure salvation, waiting for him in the next chamber. Quirrell took a deep breath and stepped into the jet black flames. There was a sizzling hiss as the fire enveloped him, its blazing hot flames angrily licking his robe.

"Hello Miss Granger, may I ask what exactly you're doing out here?"

Snape had just exited the staffroom and noticed the bushy haired first year skulking outside.

"Oh, hi Professor. I was just, um, well to be honest, I uh…" nervously squeaked Hermoine.

"Well this is a first. Hermoine Granger unable to provide a sufficient answer. Didn't I just warn you and the other Gryffindor clowns about wandering around, poking your large noses where they don't belong?"

"I was actually, um, waiting for Professor Flitwick…sir."

"Oh really? Concerning what?"

"Well, um, it's actually a private…"

"Look at me when you're speaking to me!"

Hermoine picked up her eyes from the floor and stared into the vacant dark pools of Severus Snape. She suddenly felt an odd tingling sensation, unlike anything she had every experienced before. It felt like he was inside her head, bearing witness to her life, past and present. She began to see long ago memories from her early childhood spring to the front of her mind, projected onto a huge screen for all to see. And then in an instant the feeling disappeared.

Hermoine bent over in surprise, terrified that Snape suddenly knew all about her life, her family, her hopes, her dreams, her fears…their plan to protect the stone! She quickly looked up, expecting an accusatory outburst from the potions master. Would he expel her? Did he have that power to punish her for meddling in his plans? Would he…hurt…her?

But when she looked at Snape's pale face he didn't seem shocked at all.

"What is wrong with you girl? Get up!"

Hermoine struggled to regain her composure. I don't understand – why wasn't Snape mad at what he had just seen. He now knew that Harry and Ron and she suspected him of treachery! Knew they were trying to thwart his plans to steal the stone!

"Miss Granger, are you going to tell me why you want to see Professor Flitwick or will I be forced to deduct more points from Gryffindor for your impertinence?"

"Uhhh, I wanted to discuss my charms final…sir."

"Wait right here, I shall get the professor. I'm very interested to hear what questions you have for him."

Hermoine watched Snape stalk away to fetch Professor Flitwick. He had made no indication that anything strange had just occurred between them. As Hermoine ran as fast as she could back to the Gryffindor common room, she came to the conclusion that she must have imagined the whole episode – possibly an epileptic fit brought on by extreme stress? Those boys will be the death of me! The brightest witch of her age knew far more than she should have, but she had yet to learn about the field of Legilimency.

Snape sat down in the staffroom, ignoring the other teachers. Once finals were over there was always an air of exhilaration amongst the faculty. They were just as excited as the students that the busy school year had come to its conclusion. But while his colleagues were discussing their favorite students and summer travel plans, Snape was more concerned about what he had just seen.

How the hell had those three troublemakers discovered so much about the stone? That insufferable Potter was clearly the ringleader, and the girl's memories suggested they were determined to break into the underground chambers. He was going to get himself and his friends killed! Just like his father! The rules never apply to the house of Potter!

"Minerva? Excuse me, Minerva?"

"Yes Severus."

"Where is the Headmaster? I need to speak with him at once!"

"I'm afraid he's just left campus."

Dumbledore always marveled at the grandiosity of the Ministry of Magic lobby. It was deep underground and carved as a wide open space – a huge atrium that held a large fountain, several magnificent statues and many floo network fireplaces. The Ministry was supposed to be a public building, for the people, by the people. But the opulence of the lobby was a rather obvious symbol of the greed, corruption and largesse that eventually seeps into all political establishments.

The fanciful lobby reminded Dumbledore of the splendid muggle churches he had visited as a teenager. They were amazing to behold – how ingenious and resourceful muggles could be! Wizards always underestimated their intelligence and ingenuity. But while the great churches of the middle ages were architectural wonders, they were also grand monuments of hypocrisy. These were supposed to be houses of worship for the masses, clergymen were ostensibly supposed to be humble and chaste. The priest class should be comfortable, yet adhere to a spartan lifestyle, for more is less – the height of cultivation runs to simplicity. Instead, the great muggle churches were gilded with gold, boasted extravagant paintings and taxed their flocks past the point of reason.

Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely thought Dumbledore with sadness. Wizards were more similar to muggles than they cared to admit. Still, the lobby was an amazing magical achievement – a beautiful sight to greet wizards and witches as they entered the Ministry of Magic.

The letter had mentioned that Fudge wanted to see him this evening, but Dumbledore had decided to come to London early. He had wanted time to visit the Halls of the Dead, a magical cemetery located within underground London. He made an effort to carve out time to pay his respects to the great wizards and witches of the past, some of whom he had formed personal relationships with during his lifetime. The Halls had been built near the Ministry and was connected by the floo network. Dumbledore had finished his tour of the Halls and saw no downside to arriving a few hours early for his appointment with the Minister.

Dumbledore dusted off the fireplace ashes from his sky blue robes as he arose from a fireplace and walked towards the Ministry elevators. He stopped every few moments to speak with someone or wave hello. Being so renowned and so unflatteringly polite could be quite a drain on one's time he observed.

"Excuse me! Can I see some identification?" gruffly barked a Ministry guard as Dumbledore walked right by the entrance desk.

Dumbledore turned towards the man, grinning widely behind his long white beard, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Pardon me sir. I didn't realize it was you."

"Call me Albus. How are you Reginald?

The security guard could not muster a reply, too shocked that the famous wizard even knew his name.

"Albus? What are you doing here?"

Dumbledore turned around at the sound of a booming, unctuous voice.

Cornelius Fudge stood behind him wearing the splendid dark black robes befitting his presidential position. He was flanked by a small cadre of secretaries and lackeys, who were shadowing his every step.

"I know I'm a bit early, but wanted to pop in anyway. Quite curious about the American Minister's treaty proposal."

"What? That bastard's finally sent the proposal?" Fudge turned around angrily to his personal delegation. "Why was I not informed at once?"

The only response he got back was a sea of puzzled looks and hurried apologies.

"You haven't read the proposal?"

"Not yet, I didn't even know he had sent it! I don't understand, did he send it directly to you Albus? Have you been holding counsel behind my back?!"

People had been sneaking glances at the famous pair of wizards, but as Fudge's voice rose an angry octave, an interested crowd began to form.

"Cornelius of course not. I'm here at your behest."

"I never called a meeting with you."

"Your letter? The urgent request?"

"Albus I have no idea what you are talking about. In fact I'm now on my way to Ireland, should have left hours ago."

Dumbledore stared hard at Fudge for a few moments, a puzzled frown creasing his face. Then he came to some silent conclusion.

"Apologies Minister. There has been a misunderstanding on my part. Enjoy your trip – the Irish make the best stews." He then turned to Reginald. "May I borrow your hat please? I'm sure the Minister will quickly authorize you to purchase a new one."

The security guard couldn't understand what the great wizard could possibly want with his worn out bowler hat, but he quickly complied.

Dumbledore grabbed the hat and set it down on the lobby entrance desk. He pointed his wand at the hat and muttered "Portus". The hat glowed blue, quivered soundlessly for a few seconds and then became still once more. Dumbledore waved to Fudge, tightly gripped the hat, and disappeared in a swirl.

Fudge stared disbelieving at the spot where Dumbledore had just vanished. He then turned to one of the wizards standing behind him.

"David, isn't the Ministry supposed to be one of the most secure buildings in the world?"

"Yes sir."

"Is unauthorized entry or exist possible within these walls?"

"No sir."

"Then can you explain to me how in the hell Dumbledore was able to create an unauthorized portkey right in front of my Head of Security?!"

Dumbledore's feet slammed into the rocky ground, he was standing in the front stone courtyard of the Hogwarts castle. It was late in the day, the courtyard was mostly empty save for a smattering of students enjoying a few peaceful moments at the end of the semester. He tossed the bowler hat aside and quickly strode up the front steps and into entrance corridor. Snape and McGonagall were standing outside the Great Hall talking in low tones when they spotted the familiar towering figure entering the castle.

"Professor did you get my message?!"

"Albus can we have a word?"

Dumbledore strode right past the pair and swiftly hurried on to the moving staircase. With a worried look at each other, Snape and McGonagall quickly followed.

Dumbledore got off the moving staircase at the third floor and headed towards the secret entrance to the underground chambers, ignoring the repeated questions of the two professors trailing behind him. As they approached the secret door to Fluffy's room, Dumbledore withdrew his wand – Snape and McGonagall soundlessly sensed there was some unseen danger and unsheathed their wands in unison.

"Come out slowly. Now!" thundered Dumbledore, his wand pointed directly at the door. As the door slowly opened, soft music could be heard floating through. Out stepped Hermoine Granger, red faced and sweaty. She had cuts and bruises lining her face. Lying behind her on the floor was a battered looking Ronald Weasley.

"My God! Child, what happened? How did you get in there?" exclaimed McGonagall.

"Minerva, Severus – please help escort Miss Granger and Mister Weasley to the hospital wing."

"Of course –"

"Yes sir –"

Snape and McGonagall rushed forward and helped carry the two children away from the slumbering beast. Dumbledore bent down to inspect the damage that had been wreaked upon the brave students, waving his wand over them.

"Will they he be okay Professor?" softy cried Hermoine.

"I think so, now will you all please go see Mrs. Pomfrey. At once!"

"I'm coming with you," Snape said plainly.

"No, you and Minerva will take these children to hospital wing," replied Dumbledore. "You will then notify the Ministry that there has been an incident at Hogwarts and request them to send us some Aurors."

"Aurors? What's going on Albus?" asked McGonagall. "Who else is down there?"

Dumbledore did not answer. Instead he walked into Fluffy's room and shut the door firmly behind him.

McGonagall looked towards Snape.

"Severus?"

"It's obvious isn't it? Potter's down there."

McGonagall let out a shocked gasp and Hermoine started crying.

"Come, let us take these two to Madam Pomfrey and then contact the Ministry."

Snape looked at the weeping Hermoine and the unconscious Ron, something between respect and disgust registering on his scowling face. He then turned away from them and stared hard at the closed door.

Dumbledore looked about the small room, his eyes digesting the curious scene. A golden harp stood in one corner, magically playing a soothing lullaby. He flicked his wrist towards the instrument and the music stopped at once. Fluffy's middle head sleepily opened its eyes, taking in the now quiet surroundings. When it spied the tall wizard in sky blue robes it began to snarl, viscous saliva dripping sloppily from its giant maw. The other two heads immediately wakened, sensing a rising tension.

Dumbledore snapped his fingers and the beast immediately ceased its snarling and lifted a giant paw up off the ground – it had been resting over a trapdoor. Dumbledore raised the door and dropped down into a dark hole. He floated down and landed in a soft nest of Devil's Snare. Normally the rare plant would quickly entangle anything that came into contact with its tendrils. They were long and sinewy, with the crushing power of a python – it made the Venus flytrap seem like a harmless rose. But the plant didn't move as Dumbledore quickly walked across it and headed into the next chamber.

Snape slowly opened the door to Fluffy's room, McGonagall's admonitions ringing behind him. Fluffy was wide awake and not at all pleased at being awoken from its musical slumber. He took several swipes at Snape's head, causing Snape to venture back outside the room, favoring his right leg.

"Severus!"

"Take the children to the hospital wing! Alert the Ministry! Go now!"

Snape kept staring at the maniacal dog, stumped. The huge animal whipped its tail around and knocked over the harp, sending it skidding across the room. The sight of the golden instrument triggered something within Snape – he recalled the fact that music was playing when Hermoine had opened the door. Snape flicked his wand at the damaged harp. It began playing a soft harmony, albeit out of tune as several of the strings had just been shredded. However, the music achieved the desired effect – the beast was soon lulled to gentle slumber.

Snape tentatively approached, expecting some type of trap to spring open any second. He poked the beast a few times with his wand and jumped back at the ready. But when Fluffy stayed asleep, Snape quickly dropped through the open trap door. He fell into a soft plant, his senses on high alert. Almost immediately, strong tendrils began wrapping themselves around his body.

"Protego!"

The shield charm bounced uselessly of the plants.

"Sectumesepra!"

The dark magic cut deep wounds into the tendrils, but they did not tear apart. One wrapped itself around Snape's throat, slowly constricting his air supply. Rather than panic, Snape maintained an unnatural calm. He racked his brain for the right answer, his thoughts silently flipping through the pages of his old herbology textbooks. He flicked his wand and a little puff of smoke hissed out. Snape closed his eyes, frowned in concentration and flicked his wand again.

A large flame shot forth and the tendrils immediately released their hold on him, slinking away from the hot light. Snape gasped for air as he crawled over to a stone wall lining the room. He then followed a small path carved into the wall, heading towards the next chamber.

Dumbledore entered a huge chamber – there was a large wooden door lining the entire back wall. Above him where a multitude of winged keys zipping about and to his right were some discarded brooms.

Ignoring the brooms, Dumbledore began walking across the room. He raised his arm and pointed a finger towards the winged keys fluttering about like a rabid school of fish. He then jerked his arm down and pointed his finger towards the door. One of the winged keys broke away from the pack and flew into the keyhole, unlocking the door and swinging it open. Dumbledore strode through and the door swung shut behind him.

Snape entered, took one look at the flying keys, the old brooms, and let out a tired sigh. After a ten long minutes of being pelted continuously by the keys, he grasped one with a broken wing and jammed it into the key hole. By the time he left the chamber, a deep welt was forming on his left check and blood was dribbling down his gaunt face.

A large human sized chess board filled the next chamber. Dumbledore stepped onto the board and quickly walked across. The gothic chess pieces looked tall and imposing, but did not move an inch as the Headmaster strode past them. In less than thirty seconds, Dumbledore was across the room and into the next chamber.

Snape entered the room several minutes behind the Headmaster. He spied the huge chess set and was unsure of how to proceed. He placed a foot onto the board and a nearby knight moved quickly to block his path. Snape took another step forward and the knight leaned down and drew out a long broad sword.

"I am Severus Snape! A Hogwarts professor! I am here to help Albus Dumbledore, let me pass!"

Snape's yell reverberated through the chamber and none of the pieces moved. Snape took another step forward. No movement. He took another small step forward, eyes directly on the knight in front of him. Still none of the pieces moved.

Snape let out a sigh and continued forward. Suddenly the knight swung his sword at Snape's head, the heavy weapon slicing through the air with a loud whistle, searching for a clean kill. Snape ducked and rolled back off the board. He glanced back towards the door to the previous chamber, gave a resigned sigh, and then looked back towards the chess board.

"I will take the place of the left bishop."

In the next chamber, a large mountain troll was coming to. It was rubbing its head, still unaware of where it was or why it had been knocked unconscious. When it spotted Dumbledore walking towards it, the troll reached to its side and picked up its club. Dumbledore waved his finger at the troll and said "No" – the troll dropped the club and laid its giant head back down on the ground. Suddenly, what it wanted most in the world was to take a nap. As its giant eyes began to close, it sleepily watched the tall wizard make his way across the chamber and into the next room.

Snape appeared in the chamber some time later. To go along with the welt and deep cut along his face, he now sported a black eye, twisted ankle and torn robes.

He spied the sleeping troll and breathed a sigh of relief. Snape stuck close to the wall and began slowly edging along it, careful not to make a sound. It was slow going, but better safe than sorry. When Snape got to the far wall he chanced a quick look behind him –the troll was still lying on its stomach, eyes closed. Snape edged further along, but when he was a few yards from the door a large shadow passed over him. Snape slowly turned around and stared up at an irate, fully grown mountain troll.

Dumbledore walked into the next chamber and the moment he passed across the room's threshold purple flames shot up behind him. In the doorway leading onward jet black flames shot up from the floor. Dumbledore paused for just a moment in front of the black flames and then confidently walked through.

There was a loud bang, a guttural howl and a crunching smash. Snape dragged himself into the chamber, a fractured wrist was his newly gifted medal of honor. As he collapsed across the room's threshold, purple flames appeared behind him and black flames in the doorway ahead of him.

He struggled to his feet and limped to a table with seven differently shaped bottles lined up on it. He immediately grabbed the tiniest one and tilted it into his mouth, but it was empty. He smashed the bottle on the ground in frustration and slumped to the ground. A terrible scream from the room ahead roused him from his pity party.

Snape stood back up and flicked his wand at the ground. The broken pieces of the tiny bottle coalesced together and then jumped up into his uninjured hand. He then carefully measured out and poured small quantities from each of the other bottles into the newly repaired small bottle. He then swirled the tiny bottle around in concise circles and heated it with his wand. After a few moments, he stoppered the bottle and shook it furiously. The yellowish liquid turned a bright purple. Snape took a large sip, dropped the bottle back onto the table and hobbled over to the black flames.

Snape stopped a few feet from the jet black flames whipping around the doorway to the final chamber. He tapped his wand to the top of his head and muttered "Effaversance." A light mist flowed from the wand and covered his entire body. He felt as though he had just bathed in a warm spring, the pain bulging through his body slowly fading away.

The wounds caused by the obstacles in the previous chambers could not be cured with simple spells, as they were cast by powerful wizards – Snape would ultimately need a magical doctor's touch to mend his wounds. But the ancient spell he just cast added a small layer of protection and, more importantly, helped to dull the pain. He could still break bones or become grievously injured, but the pain he experienced would be muted over the next hour.

He rolled his twisted ankle, felt a snap and then gingerly wrapped it with some torn cloth from his robe. Severus Snape took a deep breath and stepped into the jet black flames. There was a sizzling hiss as the fire enveloped him, its blazing hot flames angrily licking his robe.