After dinner, Hermione met back up with Harry, Neville, and Ron in the Gryffindor Common Room. The afternoon had not gone well for them.
"McGonagall threatened to take more points off if she caught us near the third floor corridor again," Harry said. "Took offense that we thought we were stronger than all the protections that were already on the Stone…"
"Snape kept turning up, too," Ron said grimly. "Slimy git can't wait to get his hands on it…"
"Dumbledore is still away at the Ministry," Neville added. "I asked Professor Sprout if he'd be back in time for the year-ending feast, and she told me."
There was a tense silence.
"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.
Hermione turned to look at him. He looked pale, and his eyes were glittering.
"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try to get to the Stone first."
"You're mad!" Ron exclaimed.
Hermione opened her mouth, before pausing, then deliberately closing her mouth. Harry's jaw was set, and defiance was flaming in his eyes. Nothing she said – nothing – was going to reach him now.
And she wasn't about to appeal to his sense of logic and rationality when it was clear all such reasoning ability was gone.
"You're serious?" Hermione said, staring at him in disbelief. "You're seriously going to go through the traps instead of waiting for a teacher to deal with it?"
"Snape already knows how to get through all the traps!" Harry's eyes flashed. "We have to follow him and hold him off. If Voldemort gets the stone… well…"
Not for the first time since she had heard the news, Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. The stone was safe at Gringotts, and so far, no one knew she'd replaced it with a fake. Oddly, Hermione felt a sense of disappointment. She'd been genuinely excited to win the obstacle course.
Biting her lip, Hermione considered her options. If she admitted she had the stone, when it wasn't supposed to be a prize for beating the obstacle course, she could possibly get charged with theft. She wasn't entirely sure how the legal system worked in the Wizarding World, but she imagined it wouldn't be to her advantage to learn that for the first time as a defendant.
The safest option for her was to act as if she had no other information about the stone, and as if she, too, thought Voldemort was after it. Them going after it might even help secure the veracity of the stone in Voldemort's mind.
And if she didn't go with them, they'd likely get themselves killed.
"Fine," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Let me get my pack, and we'll head out from here at curfew."
The three stared at her.
"…you're coming with us?" Ron said dubiously.
"Of course. You promised I could come on the next adventure. And besides," she said, folding her arms, "you'll probably get yourselves killed without me."
Harry and Neville exchanged a look, before nodding.
"Get whatever you need to," Harry told her. "Make sure you're back up here before curfew."
Hermione's dungeoneering pack sat undisturbed under her bed, unused since January. She changed into her black denims and a long-sleeved black shirt as well – after all, they were going to be creeping about the school at night. She cast a glance up at the heavy stone crowns before slinging the bag over her shoulders and leaving without them. She doubted she'd be able to get a free pass through the chess game, even if she did have the white crown.
The wait for nightfall was intense. Ron and Neville attempted to play gobstones while Harry paced, and Hermione sat curled up in a chair with a book, considering everything that could go wrong while they waited. Biting her lip, she discreetly penned a letter to Snape, detailing Harry's ridiculous plan, how she was sure it was Quirrell they were actually going to find, but how she felt obligated to go along to keep him alive. She also made sure to mention that the only reason they were going on this insane quest was because McGonagall didn't trust her own House members; the fact that she was writing Snape a letter was clear evidence that Slytherin worked to the contrary.
She put it in an envelope, marked it clearly "Severus Snape" on the envelope, and sealed it. She'd drop it in the hallway as they left, and Filch and Mrs. Norris would find it for sure.
When the time came, Harry stood.
"All right," he said. He looked at them all and winced. "This is going to be a tight fit."
"A tight fit…?" Hermione questioned, and Harry withdrew a cloak out of nowhere.
As he settled it about his body, Hermione gasped.
"That's – you have an invisibility cloak?"
"Don't tell anyone," Ron warned, but Hermione was still gaping.
"Where- how did you-"
"Family heirloom," Harry said shortly. "Can we go now?"
In order to fit them all, they'd had to condense as much as possible. Hermione ended up on Harry's back, piggy-back style, and Neville on Ron's, who was whining about the extra weight, but shut up when Harry offered to trade partners.
They crept slowly down the hallways, as quietly as possible. Hermione discreetly dropped her letter when they heard Filch creeping around nearby, though they didn't run into him directly.
When they got to the 3rd floor corridor, the door was unlocked already.
"Snape's already inside," Harry said grimly, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
Harry had a roughly-hewn wooden flute that he began playing as he opened the door, and despite his lack of skill, Hermione was pleased to see the Cerberus' eyes droop almost immediately. Hermione stashed the cloak in her bag while Ron and Neville went over to the trap door and opened it, and to Hermione's horror, jumped immediately inside.
"What on earth-?! Oh Merlin…"
Hermione crossed her fingers that Neville would be able to recognize the Devil's Snare quickly. She gestured for Harry to jump first, before she followed him quickly, slamming the trap door closed behind her.
The soft thump of her landing had her already prepared, blasting through the plant around her with Incendio as a matter of course. Neville had at least recognized the plant and was doing his best to escape, but Ron was tangled quite tightly, the plant constricting his chest.
"Fight it with fire," Hermione cried out to them, falling through the plant herself.
She quickly regained her feet. Looking up through the plant, she aimed at where Harry was.
"Incendio!"
Harry fell through shortly, to Hermione's relief, and Hermione moved on to Neville. From the sound of it, Neville was struggling to keep both himself and Ron from being strangled, as Ron couldn't get to his wand. It was brave, but ultimately foolish, in Hermione's opinion.
With Harry's help, soon both boys were falling free, Ron coughing as he hit the ground hard.
"Thank Merlin you're brilliant at Herbology, Neville," he managed to get out. "Otherwise that plant would have strangled the both of us alive."
Harry cast a sideways glance at Hermione, who ignored it.
"Let's keep going," Harry said resolutely, and they all followed him as he opened the next door.
The room was filled with dozens of glittering, winged keys. Hermione watched them as Harry looked up in awe.
"They're- they're keys! And look!"
He gestured to the brooms, and Neville went pale.
"We have to catch the right one…"
"But there are dozens of them!" Ron looked uneasy.
"Look! There, the silver one, with the blue wings. One of the wings is slightly bent! We'll catch that one!"
"Or," Hermione said, as the final click of the tumbler slid into place, and she opened the door, "we can just keep going instead."
There was a silence.
"Is that a lock picking set?" Harry asked.
Hermione shrugged. "Does it matter if it is?"
There was a pause.
"No," Harry said finally. "Let's go."
Hermione let out a breath of relief as she slid the lock picking set back into her pack, and they all piled through the doorway.
As the sconces lit, Ron's face came alive.
"Chess…" he breathed.
Hermione bit her lip, reluctant to admit it, but she was grateful Ron was with them. At least, for this.
"We have to play our way across," he said. He looked at the pieces, nodding. "Okay. Harry, you take the king's side bishop. Neville, you take that castle. Hermione-"
"Hermione will be taking the king," Hermione interrupted smoothly, holding her hand out expectantly to the large stone figure. The piece wordlessly handed over his crown, and Hermione set about securing it to her head through some intricate braids.
"I was going to give you the queen," Ron objected.
"Nope. King." Hermione was defiant.
"What are you going to be, Ron?" Harry said quickly.
"Me? I'll be a knight…"
The chess game was close, Hermione could tell. It was just as terrifying as the first time she'd done it – perhaps even more so, with the danger of her friends being hurt.
When the white queen turned her blank face towards Ron, Hermione winced, and Harry caught her expression.
"What-?"
"It's okay," Ron said, though he'd gone pale. "I have to. After this, Harry, you'll be free to checkmate the king."
"You can't sacrifice yourself!" Neville's knees were trembling, but he stayed on his square. "You can't!"
"Do you want to stop Snape or not?" Ron demanded. There was a silence, and Ron nodded once, decisive. "That's what I thought."
Ron moved slowly into place, bracing himself for the impact. The white queen slid over and struck him hard, her marble arm crashing into his head and sending him across the room with a yell to hit the wall hard, where he dropped down, out cold. The horse he'd been on lay in shambles on the board, destroyed.
Hermione winced, while Neville screamed.
"Harry," Hermione said sharply. "Your move. Finish this."
Looking sick to his stomach, Harry moved across the board, shaking.
"Checkmate…?"
It sounded like a question.
The white king threw its stone crown at Harry's feet, and Harry grabbed it before they all rushed over to Ron in relief.
"He's unconscious," Hermione said, checking him over. "He needs Madam Pomfrey – bad."
Harry looked grim. "There isn't time. We'll have to leave him."
"Absolutely not," Hermione snapped. She turned to Neville. "Neville, take Ron to Madam Pomfrey. I'll get Harry through the rest of the obstacles."
"You two? Alone?" Neville looked doubtful, and Hermione drew herself up.
"Neville," she said. "We can't let Voldemort win in any way – and that includes making us leave our friends behind. Ron might have a serious concussion, and I can't carry him. He needs medical help, and you're the only one to do it. We need you right now."
Neville's eyes flashed, and he straightened himself.
"Right," he said, nodding decisively. "I can do this. Not every soldier in a war is on the front lines, but everyone contributes to the win."
It sounded almost like he was quoting something, something she didn't recognize. Hermione blinked, but nodded anyway. "Exactly."
Harry helped Ron up onto Neville's shoulders, while Hermione cast the best Feather-light charm on Ron's body she could, knowing Neville wouldn't be able to maintain a Locomotor Mortis charm with his agitated state.
As Neville set off, Hermione turned to Harry.
"Ready?" she said simply.
Harry gave her a look and nodded silently.
Hermione crept over to the next door, peeking around it, before sighing in relief.
"We're good," she said. "Let's go."
They walked quietly past a large troll, which seemed to have been knocked out. The room stank of troll blood.
"We need to go over this next threshold together," Hermione said. "Take my arm. Ready? On three…"
They stepped carefully over the threshold, purple fire erupting in the doorway behind them, black fire blocking their way forward.
"What is this…?" Harry said, looking at the bottles. "Snape's puzzle…?"
"It's a logic puzzle," Hermione said, her eyes scanning the scroll for any changes. There were none. "Take the smallest bottle, Harry – it'll get you through to the final room. That's where…" she hesitated. "That's where Voldemort's servant will be."
Harry picked up the smallest bottle, but instead of taking it, he turned to her.
"How do you know it's the final room?" he asked.
Hermione kept a carefully blank expression as she shrugged.
"All the other teachers have had their puzzle," she said. "All that's left is Dumbledore's."
Harry's face was stone.
"You knew about the Devil's Snare," he told her. "You knew about the Flying Keys room – you had those lock picks at the ready. And you knew about this room, and the next – you've been through this before, haven't you?"
Hermione winced.
"Look," Hermione said quietly. "Yes, I have. I thought it was an obstacle course – a scholastic challenge. I wanted to beat it."
Harry looked disbelieving, but Hermione went on.
"When I got here, there were so many fantastic things – was a school-wide challenge really that out of the realm of possibility?" Hermione was flustered, waving a hand as she spoke rapidly. "When a first-year spell could open the door, and the corridor wasn't even warded? I thought it was a challenge. I thought it was an extra-credit obstacle course – a competition. And I like to win."
Harry started to grin, and Hermione blushed.
"You would," he said with amusement. Hermione rolled her eyes but smirked.
"The next room is the last," she said seriously. "There's a mirror in there – a fancy one with odd writing around the frame. It shows weird things."
Harry's eyes flared with recognition, and Hermione felt her own suspicions confirm.
"I don't think I can follow you," Hermione said quietly. "Good luck."
Harry stood up straight, resolute. "Right."
He drained the small bottle and stepped through the flames, and Hermione sighed, before drinking from the round bottle and returning to the troll room.
The troll smelled awful, and Hermione took her time to stop and examine it this time, curious. It seemed like the troll had been knocked out by severe head trauma, somehow. Had someone conjured a tree trunk to bash its head in? She glanced around, idly wondering if it was its own club that had done it.
The troll looked like it wasn't about to get up again, so Hermione settled in to wait. After a minute or so, she saw the purple flames die down, and after a moment's thought, she got up and went back into the potion room. The flames sprung back up, but Hermione ignored them, focusing instead on grabbing the small potion bottle.
She still seemed able to get through the purple flames herself. She returned to the troll room again, setting down the bottle, before going back to the room twice more after the flames dies down each time.
It was just as she had returned from her third trip that she could hear footsteps charging towards her. She straightened, dusting off her robes, and picked up the small bottles.
A moment later, Professor Dumbledore rounded the corner, followed closely by Professor Snape. They both skidded to a halt when they saw her, and Hermione nodded respectfully.
"Harry's in the last chamber," she told them, offering them each a small bottle. "He's been in there for over five minutes, but under ten. I'd hurry."
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he took one of the bottles and downed it cheerfully, before running towards the potion chamber himself. He seemed to be a man on a mission; his eyes had barely registered Hermione before he'd moved on.
Snape stood there a moment longer, regarding her carefully.
"You were prepared for us to come through here, so you stockpiled these?" he questioned her.
Hermione shrugged. "For someone to come through – you, McGonagall, Dumbledore, hell, even Hagrid – who knows who Weasley and Neville would have called for help?"
Snape's lips twitched as if he wanted to smile.
"Thank you," he said, drinking the potion. He shuddered, then gave her a curt look. "You should get out of here."
"I should," agreed Hermione amicably, turning towards the chess room. "Good luck, sir," she added.
Snape nodded once, then took after Dumbledore. Hermione watched him vanish behind brilliant violet flames, before heading back through the chess room.
She'd done her job, getting Harry help to make sure he survived the encounter. Hermione wasn't about to stick around near an unconscious troll when there were finally adults around to take care of things, to say nothing of Voldemort facing off with Harry in the next room.
She rather thought he'd be none too pleased with her if he learned she'd been helping Harry.