Returning to consciousness was more painful than Harry expected. At first, the pain felt like it was everywhere, but as his senses returned to him, it localised on his wand arm and the left side of his head. He groaned and slowly pushed himself upright as his eyes adjusted to the surprisingly bright room. His glasses were easily found by fumbling around on the nearby table, which thankfully had a much needed glass of water.
The room was… clean? There was a better word than clean, but he couldn't think of it through the fog in his brain. Despite being made of the typical… kinds of rocks that made up Hogwarts, the very essence of the room smelled clean, in a non-literal sense. Each side of the room was lined with beds with retractable curtains separating them. The upper half of each wall was lined with tall, frosted windows, letting lots of light in, but no details from outside.
"Wha' happen…" He mumbled, his voice coming out far more slurred than he would have expected.
"What happened is you suffered from a concussion and a minor skull fracture, in addition to severe bruising along most of your body!" The… Harry didn't know her name or title. She was the witch who ran the hospital wing — that was all he knew about her.
Harry tried to piece the memories together, but everything was jumbled. He remembered fighting, an explosion, and… chess?
"Your injuries are healing well, at least. Concussions are tricky to treat, but you weren't blasted into a wall, so you seem to be healing faster than the others."
The others…? The others…! "What happened to the others?" He tried to ask, though it came out more as "Wha' happen others?"
"Every one of you is badly bruised, though you and Miss Davis had bruises deep enough that they went down to your bones. Miss Davis and Miss Greengrass were both suffering from magical exhaustion, which can only be treated with time. Miss Greengrass suffered some spinal damage, and Miss Granger's skull was actually cracked."
Holy crap. That… that was bad. "They 'kay?" He slurred.
"Of course they'll be fine. I am a healer, after all, and I'm quite good at what I do, if I do say so myself. This may be more extreme than the usual gauntlet of injuries I'm used to treating, but most students don't end up in duels to the death with their defence professors. I'm going to administer a sleeping charm now. You still need rest."
Harry tensed slightly as she pointed her wand at him, but he didn't have any time to panic before the sleeping charm took him.
"I still say you should call the aurors over this, Albus." Minerva insisted. "Quirinus is dead, and even if he was killed in self-defence, I'd still say that this warrants a proper investigation. There are limits to what we can do without proper forensic specialists, you know."
"And as I have told you every time you've brought this up, I will not see these children slandered or brought to the attention of the public for their role in this unfortunate affair. Aurors may have a high professional integrity, but their lips can still be loose under the right circumstances… or for the right price."
Minerva felt her lips thin. Yes, Albus had a point — no child deserved to be dragged through the mud for murdering someone who, as all the evidence suggested, tried to kill them. At the same time, she was certain that Madame Bones could make some exceptions in procedure for the sake of discretion, should she be asked. Minerva was certain that there was more to this than that, though.
No, she was quite certain that this was just as much about discretion as it was about maintaining the sovereignty of Hogwarts. Albus was not afraid to exercise said sovereignty whenever the situation allowed it — most likely as a holdover from the days when the Ministry was controlled by either Voldemort's lackeys or those imperiused by said lackeys.
Back then, the Ministry kept trying to use various legal means to assert greater power over Hogwarts, which led to Dumbledore using every trick in the book to keep them out. It seemed that old habits died hard.
"Also, there is… one other thing." Albus said quietly. "I've been doing an analysis of Quirinus's body, and it seems that he may have been… possessed."
Minerva froze. Possession was extremely rare, as there were almost no beings capable of performing it. It took a malevolent, powerful, and willful spirit to possess a person. "Do you have any idea who…?"
She didn't need to finish asking the question. The answer was plain on Albus's face.
"Dear gods…" She muttered.
"It's merely a suspicion at this point, but I believe it may have been him." Albus explained. "And in the event that my suspicions are correct, then I cannot risk letting such information reach the ears of his followers. If anyone asks, Quirinus Quirrell's death was an accident, and none of those four first years had anything to do with it. Alright?"
Minerva nodded slowly. "I understand. But still, to think that he left a ghost…"
"Not a ghost, I'm afraid. Whatever this was was far more sinister than that."
It was at that point that Minerva decided that it was in her best interest to not know anything more about Voldemort or his method of survival.
"I don't like it." She said firmly. "But I'll accept your verdict that the Ministry will be kept in the dark about the circumstances of Quirrell's death. But, let me be clear that if this ends up backfiring on us, I will not let you live it down."
Albus gave her a gentle smile. "Believe me, Minerva, if this does backfire on us, I don't think I'd deserve to live it down."
Minerva nodded and began moving towards the door.
"Can you go tell Severus that I need to speak with him? He should be in his office around this time. Also, given that our quartet of troublemakers are likely to be fully healed in a few hours, can you tell Poppy to make sure that they all head straight for my office once they've been cleared for release?"
Minerva didn't like being treated like an errand girl, but checking in on Poppy would be a good distraction from the horrors she'd just learned. Moreover, Albus knew it would be a good distraction.
"I may as well." She said as nonchalantly as she could manage. "I've been meaning to get some tonics from her anyways."
"I'm sure you have." Albus said genially. "Go on, then."
Waking up the second time was much less disorienting than waking up the first time. Harry was able to piece together a picture of what happened much more quickly, so he actually had an idea of where he was and why he was there. His head felt much more clear, too.
"Um… Hello?" He called out. "Is anyone there?" Well, his speech wasn't slurred, so that was an improvement.
It didn't take long for the… healer? Harry was pretty sure she'd mentioned that she was a healer last time they'd spoken. Regardless, it didn't take long for her to show up.
"Ah, Mister Potter. Awake early once again, I see?" She said as she pulled back the curtains.
"Um… Sorry?" He really didn't know how to reply to that.
"Oh, it's no fault of yours, Mister Potter. You've had some metabolic fluctuations that have made it tricky for me to properly calculate the dosage of sedatives to give you."
Harry didn't know what that meant. Luckily, his lack of understanding didn't seem to bother the healer in the slightest.
"Fortunately for you, though, you're all healed. Your concussion could have been treated much more quickly with a mind healer on premises, but Albus justifiably wants to keep this on the downlow. Speaking of Albus, he wants the four of you to report to his office once you're all awake. Would you rather Minerva or Severus take you?"
"Oh, um…" Well, he really didn't know McGonagall very well outside of lessons. Snape was a subpar teacher and strict disciplinarian, but he was extremely fair in his treatment of students. "Snape, please."
The healer nodded. "Right then. Expecto Patronum." Harry gaped as a silver lizard of some kind sprung from the end of her wand. "Severus, you're needed in the hospital wing."
"Um, what was that?" He asked.
"That was the Patronus charm. It's a form of defensive magic that can be used for long-distance communication with the right mindset."
Harry knew then and there that he wanted to learn that spell more than anything. The beauty alone would have made him want to learn it, but if it was also practical, then it was a much higher priority.
"Alright, Severus is going to be here momentarily. In the meantime, I'm going to wake the others. Would you like to come?"
He nodded eagerly. Anything would be preferable to sitting around in a hospital bed, but it would be good to have assurance that the others were okay. Harry practically leapt out of the bed, only to nearly fall over from getting up too quickly.
"Easy there, child." The healer said as she supported him. "I'm sure you're excited, but it won't do you any good if you end up needing even more treatment. I'd rather not treat you for another concussion so soon after the first. Now then, follow me."
Harry followed her several beds down the aisle until they came to one with all of the curtains around it drawn. She pushed her way through the curtains and pulled out a parchment and quill which began writing on their own as she spoke.
"The patient is Tracey Melody Davis. Of the four students which were delivered to me two days ago, she had suffered the least injuries. Magical exhaustion does not require any medical treatment beyond rest, and the skeletal bruising only requires a small dose of skele-gro. Normally, such minor injuries would not have warranted sedation at all, but the patient's behaviour was… excessively rambunctious and nearly caused several incidents. The patient has been fully healed for more than twelve hours at this point, but was kept sedated for convenience. Commencing with the awakening procedure…"
The moment the spell hit her, Tracey bolted upright. "Finally! Being unconscious is sooooo boring!"
Harry didn't know how to address that Tracey thought being unconscious was boring. Neither did the healer, from the look on her face.
"Patient is showing no lingering signs from the sedative and has returned to her… usual demeanour. End report."
"Sweet! Does this mean I'm free to go!?" Tracey asked excitedly.
"Y-"
Tracey didn't even wait for the word "yes" to finish being spoken before she jumped out of bed, swung her survival kit over her shoulder, and nabbed her wand out of the healer's pocket. "Awesome!" She exclaimed, instantly lighting a flame on the end of her wand in a show of magic.
The healer, for her part, did not approve. "Put that out this instant!"
"This place is warded against fires." Tracey said confidently as she extinguished the flame and slipped her wand into her pocket.
The healer just glared at her. "You know, I was skeptical that it was possible for the child of Melody Chambers and Anthony Davis to be worse than either of her parents, yet here you are."
Tracey grinned as she gave a melodramatic bow. "You flatter me, Madame Pomfrey."
Well, at least Harry learned that the healer's name was Madame Pomfrey.
Pomfrey muttered something about "insufferable" and gestured for them to follow as she strode out of the curtains. By the time they caught up with her at the next bed, she'd already begun her report.
"The patient is Daphne Isabelle Greengrass. While she had some bruising across her body, the only severe conditions were the magical exhaustion and damage to her spinal discs."
Harry didn't know that spines had discs. You learn something new every day, he supposed. He glanced over at Tracey, who looked horrified as Pomfrey continued her explanation.
"The bruising was all treatable by wandwork, as none of the vertebrae or nerves were damaged by the impact. The discs were easily repaired through a dose of skele-gro optimised for cartilage regrowth, although the magical exhaustion slowed the healing process substantially. The last dose of sedative should be wearing off momentarily…"
Tracey fidgeted where she was standing as Harry just… watched Pomfrey. She was maintaining a Tempus charm, watching the seconds tick by. Was she really so good that she was able to accurately predict when someone would wake up from sedation?
"Now." Pomfrey said just before Daphne began to stir. How did she even- "Miss Greengrass? Can you hear me?"
Daphne let out a noise between a groan and a whimper.
"I'll take that as a yes. Are you feeling any residual pain? Can you move your legs?"
Daphne just groaned, rolled over, and covered her head with the pillow. Pomfrey cast several spells on Daphne before sighing.
"Patient is unusually groggy, despite all traces of the sedative having been processed by her system. The most likely cause is the patient being a slow waker. Given the patient's visible mobility, I believe it safe to assume that her spine has healed perfectly. End report."
Daphne groaned from underneath the pillow.
Pomfrey vanished the pillow and blanket. "That's quite enough, Miss Greengrass! I have important duties to attend to! Duties that do not include babysitting you as you wake up!"
"Is she always like this when she wakes up?" Harry whispered.
"You have no idea." Tracey replied. "Daph has to set four different alarms to get up in time for class. She does not like waking up."
Daphne tried to roll over again, only to fall out of the bed. Harry moved to try and catch her, but her fall was magically slowed, gently placing her on the ground.
"And Bathsheda thought that ward was a waste of time." Pomfrey said smugly. "That was the tenth time I've needed it this month!"
Tracey walked over to Daphne and helped her to her feet in a practiced motion. Daphne's head slumped into Tracey's shoulder as Tracey guided her past the curtains.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the apparent ease with which she guided the barely conscious Daphne.
"We have to do this every morning." Tracey explained. "She doesn't really start waking up until she gets out of bed."
"So she just… leans on you for support? Every morning?"
"Well, what else would I do?" Tracey asked. "It's not like Daph gets up on her own in a reasonable amount of time."
Harry didn't think he understood any of his friends. Then again, he wasn't sure he understood most people. "So… what does she do at home?"
Tracey shrugged, jostling Daphne slightly in the process. "You have to remember that my mom travels a lot, and I can't always go with her. I usually stay with Auntie Isabelle when that happens, so I wake up Daphne most of the time. Auntie always complains about having to do it herself when I'm not there."
Auntie Isabelle… so that meant… "Wait, Daphne's mother is your aunt? I didn't know you two were actually related…"
She laughed. "No, we're not related. Aunt Izzy is my godmother."
Oh. Harry didn't know anything about that. Did he have godparents? It would give him an easy way out of going back to the Dursleys. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he wanted to know why any potential godparents hadn't been involved in his life up until this point.
"You two are loud." Daphne grumbled. "Don' like it."
"I'm sure you'll survive, Daph." Tracey quipped back.
"Mmph."
Harry always found it a little odd how easily Daphne and Tracey interacted with each other, despite their differences. He supposed that if they had been around each other their whole life… Well, they were probably a lot like siblings. Was that how siblings usually interacted? Harry had heard terms like "sibling rivalry" before, but he'd never seen an example. He really didn't know how well their dynamic really fit that description.
Those thoughts were pushed to the side as Pomfrey brought them to where Hermione was staying. Unlike the rest of them, she was in a separate room at the back of the hospital wing, one designed for a single person. The room contained numerous apparatuses and potions, leaving Harry feeling somewhat nauseous at the thought that such things were necessary for Hermione's treatment. Just how badly had she been hurt?
Harry regretted wondering that as Pomfrey began her report. He understood that reports needed to be detailed, but her description seemed unnecessarily graphic. A quick glance at Tracey showed her looking similarly queasy. Even Daphne looked to be waking up, if only out of horror.
"Luckily, despite the extent of the injuries, there is no lasting damage." Pomfrey continued. "The only potential risk is a need for some form of vision correction at a young age due to potential damage the bone shards could have done to the occipital lobe. Beginning awakening procedure."
Unlike Tracey, who was awoken by wand, and Daphne, who woke on her own, Hermione was given a potion. Colour slowly returned to her face and her breathing steadily increased until her eyes shot open. She looked around the room before her eyes settled on them. "What happened?"
"Well, good to see you can speak." Pomfrey said as she began casting diagnostics. "Now, what's the most recent thing you can remember?"
"Um… I remember that we were…" Hermione glanced over to Tracey, who nodded in return. "We were in the third-floor corridor, and we had just solved the potion riddle. We… we went into the next chamber, but someone was already there, and then…" Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't remember anything else."
"That's plenty, dear. The fact that you can remember that much proves that you haven't suffered any lasting damage to your short-term memory."
"What happened?" Hermione asked again as she felt the bandages on her head being removed.
"Quirrell knocked you out by throwing you into a brick wall." Tracey said… helpfully? Harry was pretty sure that Tracey thought she was being helpful. "Also, Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort or something. I'm not really sure about the specifics on that one."
"He was WHAT!?" Hermione yelled, borderline hysterically.
"Ah, Severus, right on time." Pomfrey said as Snape walked into the room. "They're all in good shape, so you can get on with it. They've already disturbed the sanctity of the hospital wing far too much for my liking."
Snape's face showed no emotion as he gestured for them to follow and strode out of the hospital wing. Harry exchanged a glance with his friends before they all rushed after him.
The following silence was extremely awkward. It was obvious that Snape didn't want to say anything, and none of them wanted to irritate him by being bothersome. It wasn't until they were on the sixth floor after taking a staircase down from the fourth floor that Snape broke the silence.
"The four of you are not likely in any serious trouble. Any wrongdoing on your part will almost certainly be overlooked due to your young age and the headmaster's foolish belief in second chances. That said, we have a teacher who died from an unforgivable cast by his own wand, and we need to determine what happened. In this case, honesty is the best policy."
Tracey looked a little nervous at that.
"Fortunately, Dumbledore is exercising Hogwarts's rights to sovereignty to keep the Ministry out of this investigation, and I imagine he plans to keep it that way. As such, any consequences for hypothetical wrongdoing on your part will be purely disciplinary. Tell the truth, because he will know if you aren't. Jelly babies."
That last part was obviously a password, as the stone gargoyle they'd approached leapt aside once Snape finished speaking.
"Well, get on with it, then. Every minute I spend escorting you four is a moment I don't spend tending to my potions research."
Harry looked at the others as they rode up the rotating staircase. Daphne's expression was neutral, which was unsurprising. Tracey actually looked nervous, the first time Harry could recall her showing the emotion. Hermione looked relatively unconcerned, likely due to her memory loss around the incident in question. She didn't remember how terrifying it was to fight Quirrell as he shrugged off literally everything they threw at him, up to and including a literal bomb. Harry had really thought they were all about to die.
They arrived at the top of the stairs, but before they could open the door, Tracey stopped them.
"Guys… I… I want to apologise. I knew there would be risks and danger involved in going down the corridor, but I didn't think we'd actually be risking our lives. I know that there was no way I could have predicted that Quirrell would fight us to the death, but I'm still sorry that I nearly got us all killed."
Harry shrugged. "Near-death or not, it was the most interesting thing I've done all year."
Daphne just sighed. "I always knew that you would get me killed someday. Just try to make sure it doesn't happen before I'm twenty. I'd at least like to get a taste of adulthood before I go."
Hermione looked at them like they were all crazy. "Wait, we almost DIED!?"
At that point, the door opened on its own. "As heartwarming as that short exchange was, we really should get down to business." The headmaster's voice sounded from within the room. "Please, take a seat."
Daphne followed Harry into the office, taking a seat just to his right, followed by Tracey and Hermione.
She really didn't know how to feel about all of this. On the one hand, She didn't think anyone — except maybe Snape — had been able to identify Quirrell as dangerous. Morally dubious, sure. Hell, they had been able to figure that out just from the one conversation Harry and Tracey had overheard during winter break. But she doubted anyone could have predicted that he would have gone all out in a fight to kill children. So it wasn't really Dumbledore's fault that Quirrell nearly killed them, especially since he'd been a teacher for several years without incident.
On the other hand, Dumbledore was responsible for bringing the Philosopher's Stone here in the first place. Yes, Hogwarts was a fortress, but it was a school first and foremost. Keeping an artifact that would attract so many thieves while school was in session was reckless at best, and foolish at worst. It was even worse when she considered the fact that the Stone was protected with a large number of dangerous — and possibly lethal — traps, and the only things between them and any wandering students was an easily unlocked door and a warning that it was out of bounds.
Yes, they may have chosen to pursue the stone for their own gain, but it was the principle of the thing! If anyone had wandered into the room with the cerberus by accident, then they could easily have died. If some student somehow made it past the cerberus, then they could have died to the devil's snare. The only room that wasn't obscenely dangerous in its own right was the key room, and even that took place at extreme heights over a stone floor.
Their first priority was making sure that they weren't held accountable for the death of Professor Quirrell, but once that was done, Daphne was definitely going to give the headmaster a piece of her mind. Probably.
"So, why don't we start at the beginning. What exactly led you to the third-floor corridor?" Dumbledore asked.
Daphne was prepared to offer a slightly edited version of the actual events leading up to their adventure, but Tracey beat her to it.
"We were there to save the day!"
Dammit, Tracey. Didn't Snape just finish telling them to be honest? As in, not making shit up!?
Fortunately for them, Dumbledore seemed more amused than anything. "Is that so? And how did you plan on doing that?"
"Well, with you out of the castle for the solstice meeting of the Wizengamot, it was obvious that Quirrell was going to make his move on the third-floor corridor. We decided that the best way to stop Quirrell was to beat him to the prize, so we'd have to claim it first!"
Dumbledore nodded as if everything Tracey had just said was perfectly sensible. Daphne thought she could feel a headache coming on.
Tracey continued her retelling, if it could be called that. "So, we snuck to the third-floor corridor and began making our way past the harrowing set of obstacles until we reached the end."
"If I may." Dumbledore interrupted. "I wanted to ask about how you got past each of the obstacles. In many cases, you seem to have worked around the intended solution. Care to guide me through your methods?"
"We focused on putting the cerberus to sleep with coordinated sleeping spells." Hermione explained. "It was the only weakness on them that we could find. They're really rare creatures and aren't in most catalogues of magical creatures, so we worked with what we could find. For the devil's snare, we used…" She glanced at Harry.
"A really powerful Lumos charm." He offered. "Like… really powerful."
Right, because that was discreet. Regardless of Dumbledore's adamance about maintaining Hogwarts's sovereignty, Harry should keep his experimentation with blood magic from as many people as possible. Daphne leapt in and changed the subject.
"The flying keys were comparatively easy. It was all about pattern recognition to spot the right key, then working around its dodging abilities."
"The chess set was the hardest." Tracey said.
Daphne let out a small groan at the thought of that stupid chess set, and she wasn't the only one to do so.
"I hate chess…" Daphne muttered.
"I don't even know how to play the game!" Harry added.
"I've never won a game of chess in my life!" Hermione complained.
Tracey just shrugged. "At least beating the pieces up afterwards was cathartic, right?"
"Cathartic, my arse." Daphne mumbled. Daphne was just glad that they only had to take down around half the set. Taking on the whole thing would have been a nightmare.
"I assume your strategy was to freeze them and then shatter them while they were brittle?" Dumbledore asked. "Most of the ice in that room had yet to melt by the time I got there."
Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes, once I saw Daphne freeze one, I realised that we could shatter them by freezing them."
Harry shrugged. "I figured that if it worked on metroids then it would work on statues."
None of them seemed to know what to make of that until Tracey asked the question that was on everyone's mind, "What the hell is a metroid?"
"It's a type of jellyfish alien from this game Dudley liked to play. He was really bad at the game, so he just used cheat codes to get to the end."
"That anecdote aside, you four made impressive work of the chess set in outright combat. Now, that leaves the troll and potion rooms?" Dumbledore asked.
"Well, the troll was unconscious already, so we went straight to the potion room. Daph and Hermione solved the riddle, and then I had to talk them out of trusting anything made by Snape, so I tested the potion to make sure it wasn't actually poison, since he'd totally make bullshit trick questions like that." Tracey explained.
"Language!" Hermione hissed.
"It's English, Hermione." Tracey snarked. "It's the same language we've been speaking this whole time. Anyways, once I figured out it was just flame freezing draught, Daph cast the equivalent charm on the fire and we all went through. Then I valiantly challenged Quirrell to a duel over the prize, and then…" She shrugged. "That was when it all went to shit."
"Oh Morrigan, Tracey." Daphne muttered as she rested her head in her hands.
"Quirrell's opening move was bluebell fireballs, which we barely dodged. Harry threw up a smokescreen, which gave me and Hermione cover." Tracey continued.
"I don't know what most of the spells Quirrell was using were." Harry elaborated. "But I didn't think a basic shield charm would defend against them, so I just used bits of rubble to keep us safe. Hermione distracted him long enough to land several good hits on him, but that didn't even slow him down. Tracey threw a bomb at him, but that didn't do him in either. After that, he put a body-bind on me and blasted the others into the walls."
"I only hit the stairs." Tracey explained. "So I wasn't unconscious. Quirrell didn't seem to realise that, so I cast a tripping jinx to move Harry out of the way of Quirrell's killing curse. It hit that magic mirror and reflected right back to him. Then some black smoke ghost came out of Quirrell's corpse and I stuck my tongue out at it because it deserved it."
"There's a curse that just kills things?" Harry asked. Daphne had to remind herself that of course Harry wouldn't know about things like that. He was raised by muggles. Horrible, neglectful muggles.
"There is." Dumbledore says solemnly. "It's impossible to block using any kind of shield, and any object used to block its path is destroyed. It's the same curse that Voldemort tried to use on you all those years ago, at least according to my forensic analysis of the scene and the wound upon your head."
Harry started to look withdrawn at that, which Dumbledore seemed to notice.
"That aside, I believe that the four of you are telling the truth." He said, changing the subject. "Minor embellishments aside, everything you've told me rings true with what I was able to gather from the scene. Given your spotless records this term, I believe that we can let the matter slide. Now then, with that unpleasant matter out of the way, I do have some minor followup questions, purely out of personal curiosity. Tell me, how did you find the third-floor corridor? Were the puzzles appropriately challenging? Was investigating them a fun diversion?"
What the actual fuck?
"Er, yeah?" Tracey replied. "I mean, the chess room was a huge pain since we're all bad at the game, and the cerberus was pretty tricky to coordinate our shots, but the rest of the challenges were within our ability."
Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, I'll be sure to take that into account. Thank you for your input."
That was it. Daphne couldn't take it anymore. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she yelled out. "Why were you keeping the Philosopher's Stone in the school!?"
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "What in the world are you talking about, Miss Greengrass?"
"The Philosopher's Stone! Why would you keep it here? Yes, Hogwarts is a fortress, but it's a school first and keeping an artefact that would attract so many unsavoury characters is reckless endangerment at best and outright negligence at worst! What do you have to say for yourself!?"
Daphne's voice rose in volume as she yelled. She didn't realise it had bothered her this much until she'd let it out.
Dumbledore's brow furrowed in confusion. "Miss Greengrass… I have no idea what you're talking about."
Daphne took several calming breaths. "The Philosopher's Stone was being hidden at the end of the third-floor corridor. Voldemort possessed Quirrell to try and get it. Why did you keep it here in the first place?"
Dumbledore took a deep breath in and sighed, massaging his temples with his forefingers. "So I was correct, then. I saw signs of possession in his corpse, but I had hoped…" He sighed. "Quirinus's body was a mess. In addition to the large amount of damage he sustained in battle with you and being hit by a killing curse, he had ingested a large number of performance enhancing potions as well as an excessive dose of fresh unicorn blood. I was barely able to make out anything through the mess of magic scarring his body."
"Quirrell was being possessed by Voldemort. Voldemort was after the Philosopher's Stone. Why was it here?" Daphne said slowly.
"I suppose you all have a right to know after what happened." Dumbledore began. "For the past decade, I have strongly suspected that Voldemort did not truly die on the night that young Harry was marked. As such, when I received word from one of my contacts abroad that Voldemort was on the move, I sought out my old friends Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel so that we might lay a trap.
The Philosopher's Stone is not the only method Voldemort could use to regain a physical form, but it is the easiest and most advantageous. As such, we sought to use the Philosopher's Stone as live bait in an attempt to contain Voldemort's spirit until we could eliminate him for good. It took several months, but we eventually came up with a design that we believe to be foolproof.
Unfortunately, that plan seems to have failed. The Philosopher's Stone is not in the school. The Philosopher's Stone was never in the school. I have no idea why Voldemort thought it was here in Hogwarts instead of in France, under Flamel's supervision. That was what we both mentioned in the rumours we tried to start…"
"So… The Philosopher's Stone was never at the end of the third-floor corridor?" Tracey asked with audible disappointment.
Dumbledore smiled genially. "I'm sorry, dear girl, but it was not."
Daphne's brain finally began to catch up with her. But then… "What was the point of the third-floor corridor, then? Even if the Philosopher's Stone wasn't there, it was still a gauntlet filled with dangerous traps that was easily accessible to students!"
The headmaster's expression was carefully neutral as he answered her question. "I can tell you that if you insist, but I will need some promises in return. Do you still wish to know?"
Daphne nodded vigorously. Of course she wanted to know what the dangerous gauntlet was for!
"First, I will need you to promise that you will not tell anyone what I am about to tell you. Not your fellow students, not your parents, not your teachers, and especially not Professor McGonagall. Is this agreeable?"
Daphne nodded slowly. Harry, Hermione, and Tracey all exchanged glances before nodding along with her.
"The second thing I'll need you to promise is that you will not go looking for trouble for the remainder of your Hogwarts days. I know that strange things always happen at magic schools and that Harry's fame will attract trouble, but I will at least ask that you not seek out any trouble on your own and that you'll ask a teacher for help if things ever get out of hand. Understood?"
Daphne's nod may have been a bit too enthusiastic, but this was as close as she'd ever get to a guarantee that Tracey wouldn't do her best to get them all killed while they were at Hogwarts. Tracey was, of course, the most hesitant to agree, but she did eventually give a nod.
Dumbledore sighed. "Very well then. Let me ask you, do you know what the most frustrating thing about being headmaster of a magical boarding school is?"
None of them seemed to know how to answer that question. "Nooo…?" Tracey replied slowly.
"It is the fact that all of the school's students are filled with the spirit of adolescent rebellion. They all want to skirt the rules and flirt with danger, even when doing so is an actual risk to their wellbeing. It was a problem that plagued the school throughout my days as Deputy Headmaster, and early into my tenure as Headmaster, I came up with the most brilliant solution to the problem. I would give the students a way to feel like they were doing something dangerous and rebellious when it was in fact perfectly safe!"
What.
"It was brilliant! Most efforts at rulebreaking were focused onto my fake obstacles and dangers, keeping the students safe without oppressing their youthful spirits!" Dumbledore continued to explain. "I made sure I did a different one every year so students wouldn't get suspicious. This year's diversion was actually one of my weaker ones, as setting up the trap with the Philosopher's Stone took up most of my time over the summer, so I had to outsource the work to the teachers and modify their tests to be harmless. Fluffy, Hagrid's cerberus, is fully trained and mostly just wants to play. He's no danger to students at all! The devil's snare room has a ward that will flood the room with sunlight should anyone inside lose consciousness, then alert the house elves to remove the students. The flying key room has cushioning charms on every surface to prevent students from harming themselves with the brooms. The chess set has weapons imbued with goblin enchantments by Filius so that they will render anyone they hit unconscious without inflicting so much as a bruise. The troll was a security troll trained not to harm anyone in its room. The poisons in Severus's potion challenge were just sleeping draughts. And at the end was the reward — a glimpse into the Mirror of Erised, a once dark artefact rendered harmless by myself through months of effort!"
What.
"So…" Hermione said slowly. "The third-floor corridor is a perfectly safe gauntlet that seems extremely dangerous so students can get in trouble in a contained way?"
"Exactly!" Dumbledore replied with far too much enthusiasm.
"…Are we free to go, sir?" Hermione asked, seemingly desperate for an escape.
"Certainly, my dear. We've discussed everything we need to. Just remember your promises — I highly doubt Minerva would take kindly to my brilliant ideas, after all." He said, eyes twinkling madly, emphasis on mad.
Daphne stood up and began walking towards the door when Tracey grabbed Harry's sleeve and whispered something in his ear. Harry nodded and stayed behind as the rest of them left the room. Once the door was shut, Daphne turned to her and asked, "What the hell was that about?"
"Reminding Harry that he needs to ask the headmaster about 'alternative living arrangements'. He'll ask about staying at Hogwarts first. If that fails and Dumbledore fails to offer a reasonable alternative, then we'll take things into our own hands."
"I'm sure that won't be necessary." Hermione responded. "I mean, I'm sure the headmaster will do the right thing."
"I hope so." Daphne added.
If Harry thought that the earlier silence was awkward, it had nothing on this. He just stood in front of Dumbledore's desk, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject.
"Is there something more you need, Mister Potter?" Dumbledore asked.
Well, now or never. "It's just that I, um, well… the school year is ending soon."
"I am aware of this." He replied. "I'm assuming it relates to what you want to speak to me about?"
"Er… Yes. It's just that with the end of the school year approaching, everyone will be going home, and I was, uh, wondering if I could stay here over the summer instead of going… back."
Harry saw a flash of… something move across Dumbledore's face. He barely had time to notice the change in expression before it was back to normal.
"The answer to that request is no." Dumbledore said deliberately. "While some members of our staff live in the school year-round, a majority of them prefer to spend the summers engaging in personal pursuits. In addition to that, I will be spending the summer updating the wards in hope of preventing Voldemort or anything like him from gaining access to the school a second time. I would be remiss to let a student stay here with minimal supervision while maintenance is being performed on the school."
That… wasn't what he was hoping to hear. "Is there anywhere else I can stay? Anywhere at all?"
Dumbledore steepled his hands and stared at Harry for a moment before replying. "You do not wish to return to your relatives."
It was asked like a question, but spoken like a statement. "No, sir." Harry answered.
"Are you happy there?"
Harry didn't think he could bring himself to say it. Instead, he just shook his head.
The room was silent for some time before Dumbledore spoke up again. "Tell me, Harry, are you aware why you were placed with your Aunt and Uncle?"
He didn't know there was a reason, beyond them being related to him. "Sir?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Let me tell you how it happened, then. On November 7th, 1981, one week after you miraculously survived Voldemort's attack and subsequent vanquishing, a custody trial was held for you by the Wizengamot. Normally, such trials are easily resolved, but there were several hurdles involved in yours that were further complicated by your newfound fame. The first choice of guardian is usually one or both of the godparents. Unfortunately, in the week between the attack and the custody trial, your godfather, Sirius Black, was arrested as a Death Eater, and your godmother, Alice Longbottom, was rendered comatose after hours of torture. In cases where the godparents are unavailable, then the will of your parents would be consulted. Alas, while I know your parents had written copies of their wills in case the worst happened, they were destroyed in the explosion that took out Voldemort before they could be properly filed.
In the rare cases where this happens, the child would normally be sent to their closest living magical relative. Of your four living second cousins, two were in prison for serving Voldemort and one was cast out of the family, severely weakening her claim to custody of you. The one remaining cousin who had a strong claim was Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's mother.
Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa's husband, was a known servant of Voldemort, but he was acquitted by claiming that he had been 'bewitched' to serve Voldemort. He had garnered a large amount of public sympathy by playing up his woes of involuntary servitude at Voldemort's hands, though I found myself highly skeptical of the man's innocence. I could not in good faith allow you to be raised by a man with such questionable loyalties. At best, you would have been raised to believe in everything your parents gave their lives to fight against, and at worst, you would have been offered up as a prize to Voldemort upon his return."
Harry took a moment to shake his head. This was a lot to take in.
Dumbledore continued his tale of events. "As such, during your custody trial, I proposed that you should be sent to your aunt's house, as she was technically a closer living relative than Narcissa. To add to my argument, I testified that your mother had invoked ancient sacrificial magic to keep you safe and that living with any blood relative of hers would reinforce the protection it offered, keeping you safe from further harm."
That news hit Harry like a stab to the heart. "So… I have to stay there to keep me safe from Voldemort?"
"That's what I told the Wizengamot, yes." He explained. "And lying to the Wizengamot is a crime. Why, if I admitted to falsifying testimony and forensic evidence for the sake of changing the outcome of a trial, I could get in a lot of trouble."
Realisation slowly dawned on Harry as Dumbledore's explanation went on. "So… the Dursleys are my legal guardians, but hypothetically, I could stay elsewhere if the need arises."
"That is correct." Dumbledore confirmed. "However, there is a caveat. If, hypothetically, it was discovered that you were no longer staying at the Dursleys, then they would have legally forfeited their right to custody, and the Malfoys could reopen their claim. Now, if you were to live in the Magical World full-time, then this would be discovered fairly quickly. The Ministry is surprisingly effective at keeping tabs on what goes on in the Magical World. Unfortunately, their monitoring of the Muggle World is so sparse that it barely exists. Why, if you were to run away from your relatives and stay in the Muggle World, the Ministry might not realise anything was amiss until decades after you'd come of age! What a tragedy that would be."
Harry nodded solemnly. "Well, thank you for your advice, headmaster. I believe I understand what I need to do."
"Farewell, Mister Potter. I wish you a very happy summer."
Harry just nodded in reply before he left, shutting the door behind him. He exhaled deeply as soon as he left and took a moment to compose himself before he stepped onto the spinning staircase. Reading subtext was exhausting. He was so glad he'd stayed out of Slytherin's politics before Zacharias made the whole thing devolve into petty fighting. Doing that sort of thing constantly would give him a headache.
Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey were all waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.
"Well?" Tracey piped up. "What happened?"
"Things were…" Harry probably should watch his words. "More complicated than I was expecting. I got a solution, though."
"That's good." Daphne replied as she stretched her arms, popping several joints. "Shall we head back to the common room, then?"
"I need to stop by the owlery first, actually." Harry said. "And I need to ask Hermione for a huge favour."
"Me? What do you need me for?" She asked.
"I'll explain on the way. Like I said, things were more complicated than I realised. Basically…"
Dumbledore let out a deep sigh as Harry and his friends walked away from the Gargoyle that guarded his office. He took several deep, calming breaths before he spoke to himself.
"Harry Potter is not Tom Riddle."
He knew it wasn't true, but it still helped to say it. Harry wasn't Tom Riddle, but the similarities between them were uncanny. Both raised in less than ideal circumstances in the Muggle World, both sorted into Slytherin, both showing antisocial tendencies… Was this coincidence, or was it the prophecy at play, seeking to make the two of them more similar? Was someone who understood Voldemort on a fundamental level the only one who could take him out?
Dumbledore doubted it, but it was worth investigating.
Still, he hoped he made the right choice this time. Back when he first met Tom, he saw flashes of a young Gellert. Dumbledore attempted to use a firm hand to keep Tom from following the same path, giving him the firm disciplinary hand that Gellert had lacked, only for those attempts to backfire and end up with a much worse Dark Lord than Grindelwald ever was.
Dumbledore knew it was his fault. He'd known it was his fault for some time. He was so focused on his first impressions of Tom that he missed seeing him for what he was — a mistreated orphan boy who'd survived by using whatever power he had available.
"I hope I made the right choice this time." He muttered.
"What's that, Albus?" A new voice spoke up.
Dumbledore turned to the Sorting Hat, sitting upon its shelf. He'd completely forgotten it was there. Then again, that was how this whole year's fiasco had started, wasn't it?
"What do you think, Hat? Do you think I made the right choice?"
"I don't know about your choices, but I think I made a great one this year. It's turned out better than I ever could have expected. I think I'll keep it up!"
Dumbledore smiled. "You do that, Hat."
Everything was going to be fine. He'd take down Voldemort and ensure that no more dark lords rose under his watch. It was the least he owed Europe after being responsible for the last two.
A sudden coughing fit interrupted Parvati's maniacal laughter. Really, who would have thought that a bellowing, evil laugh would be so hard for a twelve year old girl to pull off?
With the required maniacal laughter out of the way, Parvati addressed her Lieutenants. "What news do we have?"
"Well, the good news is that we now have a definitive idea of the events that transpired on the third-floor corridor, resulting in Quirrell's death." Carmichael explained. "The bad news is that, well, it turns out that the Philosopher's Stone was never located in the third-floor corridor, so you won't be able to steal it from Davis before the leaving feast this evening."
Parvati sputtered. "What!? What do you mean the Philosopher's Stone was never in the corridor!? We had consistent information from multiple sources saying that it was!"
Carmichael flinched. "I don't know what happened! Not even Dumbledore knows how that misinformation got out! Luckily, Dumbledore is likely to investigate that over the summer, so it will simply be a matter of asking the portraits what he found out."
Parvati groaned. This threw a wrench into so many of her plans. How was she supposed to pay off people in the government and media without the Philosopher's Stone to act as a source of infinite money? Sure, she had a reasonable amount of money from her various ventures this year — rich children were willing to spend lots of money for good gossip — but it wasn't enough for her purposes. She needed to extend her realm of influence beyond the halls of Hogwarts so that she had complete mastery of the flow of information throughout magical Britain. Was that really too much to ask!?
"Ugh, fine. So there's no Philosopher's Stone. What about the second high priority thing? Finding dirt on my parents?"
"Umm… we've had no such luck. By all public accounts, your parents are respected members of the community. I'm sure that they have their dirty laundry, because who doesn't, but whatever missteps they've made are either very minor or very well-hidden."
"Are you shitting me!?" Parvati wailed. "Do you know what this means!? I am going to be grounded all summer! All I wanted was to blackmail my parents to avoid that, but apparently, that's not possible. What was the point of expanding our network beyond Hogwarts if we can't even get good blackmail material!?"
"Um, Parvati…" Andrew said hesitantly. "We sort of haven't expanded our influence beyond Hogwarts. I don't know if you've noticed, but we're all students. Most adults won't take an information trading ring run out of Hogwarts very seriously, let alone one run by an eleven year old."
"Oh, I understand. It's an institutional problem, then. On the bright side, this means that we're the underdogs, and are therefore fated to win." That was how it worked in all the stories, at least. "Atkins!" Parvati snapped, making Andrew jump. "You're graduating, right? Where will you be working?"
Andrew took a deep breath. "I got a clerical job in the Department of Records. It was, uh, the only place that would accept someone with 'mediocre grades'."
Parvati cackled. "Perfect! Keep us informed of any and all juicy information that you stumble across."
"Um…" Andrew appeared hesitant. "That's… not really allowed. I could lose my job for doing that."
"I'll double your pay."
Whatever protest he was about to voice died on his lips. "Well, I guess bribery is a Ministry tradition. Everyone does it. Fine, I'll keep you informed."
"Excellent! First Hogwarts, soon Britain, and finally, the world! Bwahahahahaha-" Parvati's evil laughter was once again interrupted by a coughing fit. "Seriously, how do people do that?"
Dumbledore sighed and decided that he had better call Nicolas. Voldemort didn't take the bait — or rather, he took the wrong bait — so there was no point in keeping the traps on the Philosopher's Stone up any longer. It was best to put it back under the proper protections that Nicolas had been using for centuries.
Still, all of the efforts they put into creating defences that looked like they could be beaten but were nearly impenetrable, wasted. And now that Voldemort had been foiled, he was unlikely to spring for the same bait again. Dumbledore really did need to find out what happened to make Voldemort think that the Philosopher's Stone was hidden in Hogwarts. He did realise that Flamel needed doses of Elixir every few months, right? The man had made several public appearances this month alone, which would have necessitated that he have the Stone available for fresh elixir.
"Foolish…" he muttered to himself. Perhaps it was a fool's errand to try and destroy Voldemort on his own. Attempting to defy a prophecy may be an exercise in futility, but Dumbledore would be damned if he was going to leave the fighting in the hands of a child.
He grabbed some floo powder and turned towards the fireplace, only for it to flare green on its own and have Flamel stumble out.
"Nicolas? What are you doing here?"
Flamel coughed a few times as he dispelled the ash from his clothing. He must have been in quite a rush. "We have a problem, Albus. The Philosopher's Stone has been stolen."
A/N (Tendra): This chapter is probably one of the more serious ones in the fic so far. Don't worry — I have no intention for this to be a fic that starts out wacky and silly but gets insanely dark as it goes on. This is about as serious as the fic will get, even at its darkest.
Lots of fics slam Dumbledore for doing something as dangerous as keeping the Philosopher's Stone in the school. There are an equal number of fics where the stone wasn't actually in the school but Dumbledore wanted people to think that it was. That ended up bringing me to the idea of "What if the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding?"
Dorea is Harry's grandmother in this fic explicitly because it provides a sensible explanation for why Harry was put with the Dursleys. And yes, there was an actual custody hearing in this universe. Dumbledore was completely honest in everything he said. In case it wasn't obvious, the prologue of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is NOT canon to this fic. I'm just tired of seeing the same old Dumbledore tropes used again and again. Especially the typical blood protections thing, hence why I had Dumbledore all but admit that he made their existence up to keep Harry away from the Malfoys.
Scrambled Sorting is my attempt to defy the norm by writing a fic in which Dumbledore is not only good, but effective in being good. Legally, Dumbledore can't tell Harry that he should run away from home and live in the muggle world, but he can very specifically tell Harry not to do that with the intention of having him do so.
Dudley is totally the type of kid who would just use the NARPAS SWORD code in Metroid and then talk about how awesome he was because he beat the game.
One more chapter left in year 1, then I can finally move onto year 2. Let me tell you, I have plans for year 2.
E/N (Xgenje): TRACEY USED MAGIC MIRROR. IT WAS SUPER EFFECTIVE!
Ahem… Back to the normal notes. I absolutely love Tracey, she is as wild as I am sometimes. It's even better because Ten comes very close to capturing my standard speech and word choice.
On the notes for the future…
TL;DR This story be Wilde~