Disclaimer: The kernel of the map of Harry Potter is JK Rowling.
Chapter 21
The thief was there, standing in front of an ornate mirror in his purple turban.
"Quirrell!" Septima Vector hissed.
The man whirled around, and to her surprise, he was smiling rather than twitching with fear.
"I should have known," Septima said. "It's always the Defence Professor."
"Why, Septima, what a surprise." Not only was Quirrell not stuttering, but his voice was smoother than it had ever been as the Muggle Studies Professor. "I was rather expecting to meet young Harry Potter here."
"And you might well have, with the way you left half the doors open. Fortunately, his friends are slightly more responsible than he is."
Quirrell laughed at that. "I would not have expected that, given his house. But no matter, my Master will deal with him soon enough."
Septima paled. "Your Master?"
Quirrell's smile curled wickedly. "Oh yes, Septima, you and our other colleagues did do good work. I could never have got through all those obstacles on my own. But of course, how could you have stopped me when I had Lord Voldemort on my side?"
It was all Septima could do to keep from screaming. Potter was right? It was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who wanted the stone? She tried to focus on anything else to not lose her head. "H-h-how did you get through mine, then?" she asked.
"Ah, that was the most difficult one." He said. "Some sort of muggle code, I'm sure. You always were far too enamoured of them. Luckily, my master found a very obscure charm to make the statues colour-blind. And even that didn't work by itself, but changing the colour-blindness from grey to red did the trick."
Which would have been interpreted as all zeros, Septima thought. And then the code zero would open it. But I didn't think something like that was even possible. Almost any red filter should have changed the blue and violet to near-black.
"I assume you simply had a key, since the charm should have worn off by now," Quirrell added.
And it nearly had, Septima realised with a start. But their vision was still just distorted enough for Hermione to fool them. "S-s-something like that," she lied.
Quirrell nodded. "Of course, I set an easy task for myself."
Of course he did. "So it was all an act, then?" she said, her anger rising. "The stuttering, the incompetence, being scared of your own shadow, all of it?"
Quirrell's smile turned condescending. "Of course. After all, who would ever suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"
"And the troll at Halloween?" she made the connection. "That was just a distraction?"
"Certainly. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around, Snape still had the presence of mind to stop me. But enough of this nonsense. I need to examine this interesting mirror." He began tapping around the mirror's ornate frame. "I know the mirror is the key to finding the Stone. Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this. I need to get the Stone to my Master before he returns."
And that was enough for Septima. Drawing on her boiling anger and pushing aside her fears of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she raised her wand and yelled, "You son of a bitch! You nearly killed my favourite student! And if you want that Stone, you'll have to go through me! Stupefy!"
If this were Stuttering Quirrell, Septima thought, she could have beaten him easily. But this Quirrell proved to be supremely competent. He whirled around and deflected the Stunner with a single wave of his wand.
Septima hadn't duelled in ages. She'd been fairly good at it in her youth, like most good arithmancers, but she was long out of practice. She threw up shields and cast standard hexes to capture and incapacitate, but she was no match for Quirrell, who was throwing out dark curses like candy. It was barely have a minute before a Bludgeoning Hex got past her shield and threw her into the wall, and then everything went black.
"Ron!" Hermione and Harry ran across Professor Vector's chamber where their redheaded friend was sitting and clutching his right arm.
"Ron, are you alright?" Harry asked.
"No," he winced. "I think my arm's broken…I don't think that Cushioning Charm worked…where's Vector?"
"She went to stop the thief," Hermione said quickly. "We got her past the rest of the traps, but we have to get help."
"Can you walk?" said Harry.
"I think so…Ow! I think I'm just…bruised everywhere else." He staggered to his feet. He was limping slightly and had a nasty bruise on his wrist where the White Queen had grabbed him, but he laid his good arm on Harry's shoulders for support.
The trio high-tailed it back to the room with the Devil's Snare where the lone broomstick rested against the wall.
"Up!" Harry ordered. The broom sprang into his hand, and he straddled it. "Ron, get in the middle so you can hold on. Hermione, will you be okay in the back?"
No, she thought. "Do I have a choice?"
Ron climbed on the broom, again wrapping his good arm over Harry's shoulder. Hermione got on the back and wrapped her arms tight around Ron's waist. The boy winced in pain again, but sat still.
Then Harry kicked off and tipped the broom nearly vertical, sailing up toward the trapdoor high above.
"Oh, no—I don't like this! Oh, I really don't like this—Ahhh!" Hermione screamed, but the flight was mercifully short, although it was probably only Fluffy's surprise that kept him from snatching the broom out of the air with his massive teeth before they managed to open the door.
"Phew, that was close," Harry said.
"You're telling me," Ron added.
"Harry, please put us down," Hermione pleaded.
"There's no time. Where's McGonagall's apartment."
Hermione pulled her map from her robes and checked it over. "Sixth floor, right below Gryffindor Tower, but—Aaaiiieeeeee!" She screamed much louder than before as Harry started flying through the corridors at blatantly unsafe speeds.
"Snape!" Ron yelled as they zoomed through the fourth floor. And it was Snape. Harry nearly flew into a wall when he realised the Potions Master wasn't the thief. Snape shouted words Hermione had never heard a teacher utter before and started shooting spells after them as they passed, but Harry was too fast for him.
On the fifth floor they blew past Filch and Mrs. Norris. Filch was also too slow to catch a broom, but the scrawny cat was hot on their tail. Then on the sixth floor, Harry very nearly ran them into a sight they had never expected and were overjoyed to see. Professor McGonagall was already out in the halls, speaking with none other than Professor Dumbledore.
"Professor!" they all yelled as they skidded to a stop. Of course, the moment they landed, McGonagall blew her top.
"What the blazes is the meaning of this!" she shouted. "Fifty points each from Gryffindor and detention the rest of term!"
At this point, they completely ignored the punishment, and not only because Professor Vector would (they hoped) reverse it. Harry jumped off the broom and turned desperately to Dumbledore, saying, "Professor, someone's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone!"
"What!" Dumbledore and McGonagall both exclaimed.
"Professor Vector's still down there," Hermione cried.
But before anyone could respond, there was another shout, and a dark figure ran toward them, his black robes billowing behind him. "Potter! Weasley! Granger!" Snape roared. "Fifty points each from Gryffindor and detention the rest of term!"
"I already said that, Severus," McGonagall snapped. "And if you three are on about that blasted Stone again—"
"Were not lying, ma'am!" Hermione said. McGonagall started talking again, but she yelled over her. "Professor Vector went in the last chamber. We got passed the chessboard, and Quirrell's troll, and Snape's cursed fire and everything!"
The three professors all stopped cold.
"You know about the chessboard?" McGonagall whispered.
"And the cursed fire?" Snape said most suspiciously.
"I think you had all better explain exactly what happened," Professor Dumbledore said gravely.
Harry took a deep breath. "Ron and I heard Quirrell talking to someone about stealing the Philosopher's Stone—" He carefully left out who he'd thought that someone was.
"And none of you lot would believe us," Ron said, before shrinking back nervously.
"So I went and tried to stop him," Harry added.
"And we went to Professor Vector and tried to stop Harry—" said Hermione. And they went back and forth, quickly summarising what had happened until they got to the part about Professor Vector going into the last chamber. As they spoke, all three professors grew increasingly pale, even Dumbledore. It seemed that none of them had considered the Stone to be at any risk either.
"Enough," Dumbledore said, with visible apprehension. "Take Mr. Weasley to the Hospital Wing. I must stop the thief. Fawkes!" Suddenly, there was a blinding light. Something big and winged and seemingly made of pure fire flashed into existence above the Headmaster's head. Then, the fire seemed to engulf him, and in a wink, he was gone. Hermione marvelled at what she was pretty sure had been a real live phoenix, while McGonagall and Snape stood still with shock.
"Well…you heard him…" McGonagall said, tight-lipped. "Hospital Wing."
The two professors escorted the three children to the Hospital Wing. Harry kept taking nervous glances at Snape over his shoulder. When they reached the Hospital Wing, McGonagall quickly alerted Madame Pomfrey, who looked quite displeased to have to be dealing with an injury as this hour. But she'd barely got to looking at Ron, when the great golden flame flashed into existence again, depositing Professor Dumbledore on the floor with a beautiful red and gold bird on his shoulder as he knelt over a semi-conscious Professor Vector.
Hermione gasped and squeaked, "Professor!" and rushed to Vector's side.
The arithmancer slowly blinked awake. "Hermione…?" she said feebly.
"Albus, what happened?" McGonagall said fearfully.
Dumbledore offhandedly levitated Vector onto a bed. "She'd been attacked in the Philosopher's Stone's chamber," he said quickly. "The thief, whom I'm almost certain was Quirrell, had already left, and he'd taken the entire mirror with him." McGonagall gasped. "He was already out to the third floor and gone when I got there. We must search the castle at once, Minerva. Rouse the other teachers, and inform all the ghost and portraits. Quickly!" The three professors started to leave.
Hermione got an idea. "Wait, Professor—"
"Miss Granger, there is no time—"
"Please, sir, what kind of mirror is it?"
Suddenly, Professor Vector coughed and rasped out, "Big…heavy…" Hermione leaned close to her. "Eight feet…bronze frame…"
"Perfect! That means it'll slow him down, and it won't fit out the windows." She pulled out her map and spread the pages out across the next bed, where Ron was sitting.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall snapped, even more impatiently.
"Wait look! I've been exploring the castle all year. There's only two ways out into the grounds from the West Wing, here and here. And there's only four ways into the East Wing. And with all the stairs around here—"
"There. The Clock Tower," Ron pointed. "If he came out on the third floor, that's the only exit on that level."
"Of course. Excellent deduction," Dumbledore said. "Severus, come with me to the Clock Tower. Minerva, rouse the teachers to cover the other exits."
The three professors turned to leave.
"You-Know-Who!" Vector coughed.
McGonagall stopped cold. "What?" she gasped.
"Quirrell…working for…You-Know-You…"
"I suspected as much, Septima. Get some rest," Dumbledore said, and he was gone, followed by his two colleagues.
"I knew it!" Harry said. Hermione sighed and hung her head.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I thought I had everything figured out. All the professors were so sure, and there was no reason to think your scar meant anything until…well…I'll try to not dismiss what you say from now on."
"Yeah, mate," Ron added, still cradling his arm. "We're sorry we thought you'd gone nutters. I guess you know your dark lords, huh."
Madam Pomfrey had also paled at Vector's revelation, but she remained professional: "Lie down, Mr. Weasley. I'll get to you in a moment."
Hermione stood by Vector's side as Madam Pomfrey continued mending her ribs. "Professor, what happened?" she asked.
Vector tried to take a deep breath and grimaced in pain. "Bludgeoner to the chest," she whispered. "Knocked me out cold. Must have run for it, then…" She smiled a little. "That really was great work, Hermione."
"Thanks," she said absently. "But why do I feel like I'm missing something?"
Everyone frowned. Was there something else? Harry was sitting on a nearby bed pondering the same question, then it came to him: "Hey, if that mirror was so big, how did Quirrell get it up through the trapdoor?"
Something ice cold clenched in Hermione's chest. "Oh, Merlin! He couldn't have done—not before Dumbledore caught him. And we took the broom. He must have had another way." She started frantically flipping through the pages of her map looking for any other way out. "Come on, come on, come on…Ron, you're the chess master. If you were Quirrell, what would your strategy be for getting something big and heavy out of the castle without someone noticing if you were stuck below ground?"
"Huh? I don't know," Ron said, sounding a little dazed. "Er…however he got the troll in?"
"Drainage tunnels." The words came from Professor Vector.
"What?"
"Quirrell was getting the trolls in through the drainage tunnels under the castle," she whispered.
"Of course, that's the perfect way, isn't it," Ron said proudly. "No one ever goes there, so we wouldn't think of them like the regular exits. And he's already down there."
Harry leaned over her shoulder and looked at the map. "Where are the tunnels?" he said forcefully.
Hermione flipped to the page for the dungeons and tried to remember where anything was that might go down from there. "Um…the plumbing all goes into the lake…they must come out there, next to the boathouse," she said.
"Thanks, Hermione." Harry snatched the page out of her hand and ran out the door.
"Harry? Harry stop!" she yelled, running after him. But he wouldn't answer, and he was faster than she was. "Will—you—stop—that—oh, Locomotor Wibbly!"
Harry went down hard, and she finally caught up with him. "Hermione!" he shouted angrily.
But she snatched the page from her map back and grabbed him hard by the wrist as she cancelled her Jelly-Legs Jinx. "Will you think for once, Harry? Professor Vector got clobbered down there. You can't stop him by yourself. We have to warn Dumbledore. Come on, the Clock Tower is closest, anyway."
Harry glared at her, but allowed himself to be dragged along as she ran off in the other direction. With her excellent knowledge of the castle, they were at the exit in record time…
Only to be blocked by an angry wall of Snape. "What is it now, Potter," the Potions Master growled.
"Professor, we were wrong," Hermione said, a phrase that made Snape blink in surprise, coming from her. "Quirrell couldn't have flown the mirror out of the trapdoor. It's too big, and we took the only broom. He has to be in the drainage tunnels. You have to send someone to where they let out."
"Oh my word," Dumbledore said from behind Snape. "How could we have missed that? Severus, stay here. I will go. Fawkes!" The Headmaster vanished in another rushing blaze of fire, leaving the children and Snape staring at each other.
No one moved for a moment.
"Are you quite finished?" the Potions Master grumbled.
Hermione and Harry nodded slowly before turning and walking back to the Hospital Wing. Harry was definitely sulking, Hermione saw, but it was better than him charging off into danger again. It was true that he was the only reason they'd found out Quirrell—and she was still having trouble believing it was poor, stuttering Professor Quirrell—but ultimately, all this was the fault of the teachers, as much as she hated to admit it. She hoped there would be a good explanation for everything when it was all over.
Quirinus Quirrell did not like the wet, musty drainage tunnels underneath Hogwarts Castle, but he certainly seemed to spend a lot of time here. Guided by the light of his wand, he dragged the Mirror of Erised over the rough ground, being careful not to let it tip over, just as his Master had ordered.
His plan was simple: follow the drainage tunnels to the end, steal a boat from the boathouse, and sail across the Black Lake outside of the anti-apparition wards so he could get the damn thing out of the area. No one would find him down here. His Master had a good deal more sense than most wizards.
Unfortunately for him, Albus Dumbledore was not most wizards. For there he stood silhouetted again the tunnel's exit, wand drawn. "I'm very disappointed in you Quirinus," he said simply.
"Dumbledore!" Quirrell hissed. "How—?"
"When I reached London to find that no one had actually summoned me, I took a more expedient way back. Surely you must have anticipated such."
Quirrell dashed behind the edge of the Mirror to use it as a shield. He knew there was no way he could face Dumbledore in a fair fight, and so did his Master. It was only by using the Mirror and the Stone inside as a cover that he would have a chance to get away.
"Please reconsider, Quirinus," Dumbledore said calmly. "You do not need to serve Lord Voldemort."
"But I do," he hissed. "He has bound me to him. I cannot disobey. I must have the Stone for him."
"Then I am afraid that Voldemort will be disappointed. I am ashamed to say that we allowed you to get much closer than we ever expected. But I cannot allow you to take it." Then Dumbledore did something Quirrell had not expected. He stepped forward and gazed directly into the Mirror. A moment later, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red crystal. "I have the Philosopher's Stone, Quirinus. If you turn back now, I may yet be able to help you."
Quirrell's blood ran cold. Dumbledore had the Stone in hand, and would certainly never let him near it again. He had failed!
At the same moment, the other presence in Quirrell's head evaluated the situation with a rarely-felt emotion: fear. The Stone was out of his reach, likely permanently. Quirrell was not strong enough to face Dumbledore, and Dumbledore was too fast to let him escape. There was only one chance left, and a slim one at that: his secondary target—something more valuable to Dumbledore than the Stone itself to offer in exchange. But he could never get there fast enough with that damn songbird on the old wizard's shoulder. However, Lord Voldemort was nothing if not crafty, and he had a plan.
"Kill the bird!" The voice was only a whisper—a high pitched hissing from under Quirrell's turban that Dumbledore hopefully wouldn't be able to make out, even if he knew who it was.
"Master, I can't—" Quirrell whimpered.
"Do it!" And then, propelled by a will not his own, Quirrell's arm pointed at Albus Dumbledore's left shoulder, and he incanted, "Avada Kedavra!"
There was a sound of rushing death, and a green light shot from Quirrell's wand. In the cramped tunnel with nowhere to hide and nothing to shield with, Dumbledore tried to dive to the side and conjure a barrier at the same time, which would have worked just fine—had Quirrell been aiming for his chest. Instead, momentarily distracted by the motion, Fawkes took the full force of the curse. He burst into flame and then flopped onto Dumbledore's sleeve, small, wrinkled, and, most importantly, flightless.
"Run!" the voice ordered.
Quirrell banished the Mirror of Erised at Dumbledore and took off running. Without Fawkes to carry him back, the old wizard would not be able to catch him. He ran through the tunnels back to the castle proper, discarding his outer robes to run faster and get out of range of Dumbledore's spell fire.
The voice beneath his turban hissed one more time: "If you wish to redeem yourself, you must do one thing: find Harry Potter!"
Septima Vector lay in a Hospital Bed, heavily bandaged, but stubbornly refusing a Dreamless Sleep Potion until the situation was resolved. She was engaged in a deep arithmantic conversation with Hermione about just how she had built her Diffie-Hellman Key Exchange puzzle and how Quirrell had got around it, which went right over Harry's and Ron's and even Madam Pomfrey's heads. Hermione was dismayed that she hadn't fully solved it, but Vector assured her that her solution was still brilliantly devised and executed.
Ron and Harry were both sitting on the adjacent bed, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Harry was understandably still very nervous and would be until he was sure the Philosopher's Stone was safe from Voldemort. Ron tried his best to reassure him, but for his own part was mostly annoyed that Madam Pomfrey was keeping him overnight. His broken arm was mended, with just a couple of drops of Skele-Gro administered, as was standard, to make sure the bone healed just as strong as before, but he was still pretty banged up.
Suddenly, there was a commotion outside. With a loud bang, a figure burst through the doors: Professor Quirrell, clad in his uniform shirt and trousers, the sash of his turban trailing behind him. Before Madam Pomfrey or Professor Vector could react he took one look at Harry and yelled, "Potter!" At the same moment a high, sibilant voice hissed, "Seize him!"
Harry jumped off the bed in terror, but Quirrell was too fast for him. With an energy and determination that the children had never seen from him, he rushed forward and grabbed Harry by the arm.
But then, both of them screamed in pain, and they fell apart. Harry was clutching at his forehead, where, to Ron's and Hermione's horror, his scar had turned red and inflamed. Quirrell was even worse, clutching his hand, which looked like it had been burnt.
But the hissing voice yelled louder, "Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" Quirrell lunged again, this time, wrapping his hands around Harry's throat. Both of them began screaming again. Harry flailed with his hands and knocked Quirrell's turban off, revealing quite possibly the most disturbing thing Hermione had ever seen, and after everything that had happened this year, that was saying something.
There was another face on the back of Quirrell's head—a face with glowing red eyes, chalk white skin, and mere slits for a nose. The face was screaming. Vector, Pomfrey, and Ron all screamed, too, and Hermione let out a terrified whine as she realised that that face, somehow, must belong to Voldemort himself, the wizard whom most wizards feared even to name.
Quirrell pinned Harry to the ground with his knees and pulled his burning hands off the boy's neck. Harry's scar was bleeding. "Master—my hands! My hands!" Quirrell whimpered.
"Stun him, you fool," Voldemort's face ordered.
Quirrell drew his wand, but Harry reached up and grabbed his face. Both of them screamed even louder, and it was then that Hermione realised what she had to do. Maybe everyone else was too scared of Voldemort to move, but Harry had him pinned as much as he had Harry. Hermione grabbed her wand from the bedside table, angled to get a clear shot, and screamed, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Quirrell went stiff as a board, and as he did, Harry pushed himself out from under him with the last of his strength. Hermione ran to him and started pulling him away.
"Ron, help me!" she cried. A little to her surprise, Ron snapped out of his terror and helped her to lift Harry onto a bed. The boy groaned and squinted around to see what had happened.
Then, just when they thought things couldn't get any worse, a black mist rose up from Quirrell's body and shaped itself into a semblance of a human form. It flew towards the trio, but it couldn't seem to touch any of the three while they were touching Harry, although Hermione felt Harry's arm get strangely hot under her fingers. But then, there was a blast of light from the door, and the dark form was banished, streaming through the window like a ghost.
Everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore, his wand raised high, panting in the doorway. Professor Snape stood over his shoulder, and there was a tiny peeping sound coming from the Headmaster's pocket.
"Professor Dumbledore," Harry breathed. "Thank God, that was close…It was—it was—"
"Voldemort, Harry, I'm afraid so.
Vector, Pomfrey, and Ron again squeaked in horror.
"Sir, the Stone—!" Harry said.
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched upward, and he delicately pulled a large red gem from his pocket. "The Stone is safe for the moment, Harry," he said. "Severus, I think we should see to Quirinus. I don't think Poppy is quite in the condition." Indeed, Madam Pomfrey was slumped against the wall, trying to get her hands to stop trembling.
All eyes turned to the prone Defence Professor, his extra face gazing up lifelessly. But even as Dumbledore and Snape rushed over to investigate, the Body Bind broke without warning, and Quirrell's petrified limbs flopped to the floor. Snape jerked his hand back as if he'd been burnt, Dumbledore's breath hitched, and Hermione made of horrified "Eep!" sound. She knew she'd cast the spell better than than that. There was only one reason for it to suddenly fail. "Is he…is he…? She squeaked.
"I…I'm afraid so…" Dumbledore breathed.
"Dead…?" Harry whispered, clutching at his chest. Ron gasped. "But you mean I…I killed him?" Harry stammered.
Harry? Hermione thought. But no, I did it! I was the one who cast the Body Bind and made…whatever happen.
But Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes snapped towards both of them and seemed to bore into them. "No, Harry!" he said sharply, though Hermione could tell he was addressing her as well. "It was Voldemort who killed him. He possessed Professor Quirrell, and that alone was enough." His features softened, and the Headmaster suddenly looked older and more tired than they had ever seen him. "I'm very sorry you had to see that, children," he said grimly as he levitated the professor's body to the bed at the end of the row and covered it with a sheet. "You are far too young to bear such a burden. Please believe that none of you bears any responsibility for his death. He was already lost to us. You were merely protecting yourselves and your friends in any ways you could."
"Professor…" Harry said weakly. He was starting to cry, and Hermione wasn't far behind. Ron was still frozen with horror.
"I think a Calming Draught and a Dreamless Sleep Potion for all four of you." He motioned to Vector. "And perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate in between. I find that always helps me in trying times. We will reconvene in the morning to discuss precisely what happened and what went wrong. There will be no punishments for what happened tonight. You have all, I think, acted as well as could be expected, given these very difficult circumstances. For now, just get some rest."
Hermione downed her Calming Draught quickly before she could completely break down and drank the hot chocolate and then the Dreamless Sleep Potion almost as fast. She had never thought she would be so glad for a mind-altering substance.