Chapter 11
Soon spring turned to summer. There was a marked shift in the atmosphere of the school after Easter, with the upper years all focusing on their upcoming exams and the lower years starting to cover the more advanced subject matter. In Transfiguration they began to work on very basic animate-to-inanimate transformations, beetles to buttons and back again at first and then slightly larger creatures like hedgehogs. In Charms they began to cover animation charms, spells that were meant to give some level of movement, usually to achieve a set task, to an object. It was rather fun to watch a teacup bounce and spin across a desk in a clumsy attempt at a waltz, though there were a few breakages. Potions didn't seem to change all that much, though they were given more essays to write on various ingredients that they used, it was interesting to learn how they could produce such varied effects.
It was a busy time and Harry and his friends ended up spending much of their time in the library, only visiting their practice room on the weekends when they had a few hours to spare. But, in spite of the amount of work they were being piled with, Harry was happy. He had received a letter from Petunia wishing him luck with his exams, he and his friends were all doing well, Neville had progressed in leaps and bounds and was now one of the best in his charms class. He even found time to visit Hagrid for tea every few weeks, enjoying the time spent with the gentle giant of a man. He learned many odd but useful things while he sat in the hut with Hagrid, he learned that Bowtruckles were surprisingly mischievous and could be vicious, but a handful of woodlice would befriend one instantly. He learned that Cerberus were dangerous protectors resistant to almost all magic, but they could be lulled to sleep by certain melodies. He learned that Thestrals were strange horse-like creatures with enormous leathery wings, they could only be seen by those who had witnessed death and understood it, they were carnivorous and often seen as ill omens but were friendly as long as you were respectful and had excellent senses of direction.
By the time the end of year exams arrived, Harry felt quietly confident that he and his friends should be able to pass them with little worry. Although he and Terry did have to spend an afternoon calming Neville down, Hermione, who rarely joined them in the library any more having found friends in Padma and Sue Li, had gotten him terrified with her bizarre theory that the exams would cover spells and information that wasn't touched on until second year. Only once they had pointed out that it made no sense for the thirteenth time did Neville relax, and they were able to go back to practicing the spells they were more likely to be tested on.
The first few exams were all written papers. Harry was allowed to use his enchanted quill from Castamir, but as he had to dictate to it he was sat in a corner of the room alone with a spell to muffle all sound placed around him, it was a little odd and the magic was distracting at first but he was able to ignore it eventually. He left the first exams feeling he had done his best, though he was sure he had gotten a few dates wrong for the History paper and he didn't think he had listed all the moons of Jupiter correctly, but he wasn't expecting perfection anyway.
The Potions paper was more difficult, though Harry did find himself grateful for all the essays Professor Snape had set as he began to list the various effects that porcupine quills could have in a potion and how they were affected by temperature. Transfiguration was much the same, though with more questions on wand motions and what spell he would use to accomplish a desired effect. Defence was very odd, there were questions on how to defend or deter various creatures such as Trolls and Imps, but then there were questions on what spells he would use against a wizard attacking him with spells he didn't recognise. Luckily, he had read about a variety of shield spells, even if he had only learned to cast two of them, so he detailed how to cast each and hoped that would do. The final question was interesting though, "What foe would you most fear facing?" It was certainly a stumper, he was tempted to write a vampire when he thought of the events in the forest, but decided to go with a Dragon, from what he had read it took teams of wizards to calm and corral them, so it seemed like an acceptable answer.
The Charms exam was a relief, he breezed through the questions with ease and had enough time to go back and add more details to some of his answers before the paper was collected. Then came the practical exams, one by one they were called into a room with the professor and then ten minutes later they would walk out, some happy and others on the brink of tears.
Transfiguration was first for him, and he made his way into the classroom feeling quite nervous, finding it empty except for Professor McGonagall and a table with various objects placed upon it.
"Hello Mr Potter, now take a moment, and when you are ready, please transfigure this matchstick into a needle." McGonagall gestured to the match sitting innocently on one side of the table. For a few seconds Harry froze, doubt creeping into his mind, but as he drew his wand his instinctive breathing set in, slow and deep as he felt his magic flow around his body. Warm and comforting. With a smile he pointed his wand at the table and focussed, remembering the three pillars of magic he had read about and come to believe in. Imagination. Intent. Will. He pictured the change, he willed it to happen as he spoke the words.
"Mutatio Acus."
There was a faint ripple and then a shudder ran along the matchstick as it twisted, changing, until a nearly perfect metal needle sat upon the desk. Harry had even managed to add some detail, a feather pattern embossed into the metal along the needle that he was quite pleased with.
After that his wand moved with confidence as he turned another match into a piece of string and then a candle, ( he thought he might have impressed Professor McGonagall when he managed to transfigure the candle to be lit when he did so, but she didn't say anything) then it was onto a button into a beetle and back and finally a hedgehog into a pincushion. Once he was finished he was asked to leave and although she didn't say anything, he did see her nod happily as he was walking away, so he thought he couldn't have done too poorly.
His Charms practical was great fun, after demonstrating that he could perform all the basic charms like levitating and creating sparks and colours, Professor Flitwick had given him a challenge.
"Excellent, now Harry we don't usually offer this for first years but, if you feel you have something to impress me with, I can offer you the chance to perform a charm of your choosing, anything you like. So, take a minute to choose a spell and let me know when you are ready." Professor Flitwick offered as he tapped the pineapple that was still dancing a merry jig on his desk causing it to freeze back into place.
Harry was a bit stumped as to what to demonstrate, he could try the Testudo charm again, but he didn't think he had improved it much since the last time the Professor had seen it. There were the spells he had practiced from the Elemental Magic book he had gotten for Christmas, but his control of most of them wasn't great and he didn't want to risk damaging anything. The last time he had tried one of them he had set fire to a chair, it had actually led him to learning a spell for stopping fires quickly. That thought triggered a spark in his mind as he considered it. It wasn't the flashiest of spells, it didn't really do anything obvious when you first saw it, but it was definitely difficult. When Jeremy had seen him practice it on the fireplace in the common room he had been amazed, although maybe the kind prefect had been exaggerating now that he thought back on it. Either way, aside from the Testudo charm it was probably the spell he had spent the most time practicing, it wasn't as tiring as the barrier charm, but it took all his focus, any distraction and it would fail, sometimes quite loudly.
He shook his head as he decided on it, he didn't have anything else that he could think of to impress the Professor with so he would just have to hope this did it. With a few deep breaths he gestured with his wand at the air in front of him and began to make slow circles with the wand tip.
"Inanis Auram." He whispered and he watched as a faint ripple in the air formed in front of him. About a foot across, a patch of air in front of him had formed a sort of haze. He risked a glance up at the Professor as he struggled to hold the form of the spell in his mind, he could feel the weight of the air pressing down on him but it was worth it for the broad smile he saw on Professor Flitwick's face.
"Oho very good Harry, very good! Do you mind if I test it? I don't doubt you but its best to do these things by the book as it were." The professor asked and, at Harry's hesitant nod, he pointed his wand at the air before a sudden tongue of flame spat across the room. The flame roared out, the heat bursting forward before it reached the area of Harry's spell and was torn apart. The fire struck the edge of his spell and split apart, unable to touch the vacuum Harry was holding in place. Professor Flitwick stopped the spell and Harry let his own slowly collapse, knowing from experience that if he let his control drop too quickly it would create a thunderclap and nearly deafen him and anyone else nearby. The ringing in his ears had taken days to completely go away.
Once the spell had completely faded, Harry sank into a nearby chair and tucked his wand away, he was pleased with his performance and thought he should do pretty well. That spell wasn't actually on the curriculum, but Jeremy had tried it and told him that it would likely be considered a third-year spell just for the difficulty of holding it for any real length of time, that and the concept was a little beyond most eleven-year-olds. Harry had only been able to understand the wording because of his muggle science lessons.
"That was very good Harry, an excellent choice of spell. It might not be as taxing as the Testudo charm, but the level of control needed is very impressive, especially for a first year. Well done Harry, now I can't reveal grades yet but I don't think you need to worry about this one at least. Your parents would be very proud Harry." Professor Flitwick let him sit and rest for a few moments before sending him out to let the next student in.
Harry couldn't help the proud smile on his face after that, the mention of his parents was still something he struggled with on occasion, but he was pleased at the thought that they would be proud of his efforts.
It was the day before the defence exam when Harry was given a note by a fourth-year Ravenclaw telling him to meet Professor Quirrell outside the defence classroom at six pm that evening. Harry had shown Terry the note as they made their way back to the common room after dinner and Terry had made the suggestion that it was for the practical exam. Not wanting to be late, Harry set off with his bag and made his way to the defence classroom, he went to knock on the door but it opened suddenly as his fist approached to reveal the form of Professor Snape. Professor Quirrell was behind him and was rubbing his arm as he greeted Harry past the dour Potions professor.
"Ah h-hello M-Mr P-P-Potter, Pr-pr-professor Snape w-was j-just g-giving me s-some ad-advice f-for the t-t-test to-tomorrow." Quirrell smiled weakly as Professor Snape sneered at him before sweeping past Harry in silence and stalking down the corridor.
"Hello Professor, I got your note, thank you for writing it in Braille, I still don't have the translation charm down yet." Harry stepped into the classroom, tapping his cane ahead of him in case there was an uneven flagstone he might trip on.
"N-not t-to w-worry Mr Potter, I h-heard f-from P-professor F-flitwick th-that y-you mi-might be in-interested in h-hi-higher gr-grade te-testing?" Professor Quirrell asked as he made his way to his desk and tapped one of the drawers with his wand, before it opened, and he pulled a small pouch from within. The clinking of glass that leaked from the small bag gave some clue as to its contents, but the professor just tucked it into his robe pocket and looked up to Harry who realised that he hadn't actually answered so he nodded quickly.
"Ex-ex-excellent, I ha-have ar-arranged a li-little ob-obstacle c-c-course of s-sorts, f-f-follow me." Professor Quirrell strode from the room and led Harry on a winding route, they passed several dusty and disused classrooms and at one point reached a dead end before Quirrell lifted a slightly frayed tapestry hanging from the wall to reveal a hidden passageway with stairs leading up higher into the castle.
Harry did his best to keep up with the professor, almost tripping on the uneven steps a few times before he stepped out of a doorway that swung closed to reveal a painting of a bearded wizard with a bird of some kind on his shoulder who wished him a hushed "good luck" for some reason.
Eventually they stopped outside a simple door in a very dark corridor, the dark didn't bother Harry too much, but he was surprised the professor hadn't lit one of the wall sconces or his wand. Then again as he inspected the defence professor's magic, he realised perhaps it was for the best that he didn't use any spells, his pale-yellow magic had grown dull, a dark stain seemed to be leaking from his head down into his torso. There were rumours that the young professor had been attacked by a vampire on his travels, considering how sickly he seemed and the oddity of his magic, Harry was now more inclined to believe the story.
He was disrupted from his thoughts when Professor Quirrell let out a hacking cough and he began to reach out to offer help to him when he suddenly straightened and turned to face Harry.
"N-now Mr Potter, i-inside t-this d-door is a s-series of ch-challenges, o-obstacles yo-you must o-overcome. I w-will f-follow be-behind y-you t-to make su-sure you are unhurt. Y-you ma-may u-use an-any sp-spell you de-deem a-ap-appropriate." Professor Quirrell gestured towards the door beside him and then stepped back to lean against the wall.
Harry wondered for a moment if he should suggest they postpone the test until Professor Quirrell had seen the nurse, but the professor seemed to be breathing more easily the longer he stood there and he supposed he could always suggest it after the test.
He turned is attention towards the door and examined it in his sight.There were strands of familiar silver-blue magic stretched across the surface of the door with more strange symbols floating along and between them, all circling a larger symbol in the middle of the door. A symbol that looked a little like a three tipped fork. He held in a sigh as he realised, he had no clue how to bypass whatever magic this was. Professor Flitwick was a master of charms, whatever he had cast on this door was well beyond him. He knew two spells for locks, one to unlock them and another which broke the lock, but he had nothing for a ward or enchantment or whatever this was.
He turned to Professor Quirrell with a frown.
"I'm sorry professor, but I have no idea how to get past whatever spell is on this door." Harry did his best not to let his shame leak into his voice as he admitted his failure but was surprised when the defence professor just nodded and pressed his hand against the wall. There was a brief flash of yellow light that raced across the stone wall, splitting to surround the door in an arch before the magic on the door began to dim and fade. In only a few heartbeats the spell on the door disappeared leaving a seemingly ordinary wooden door.
"It i-is an i-important s-skill to know w-when you are out of your depth." Professor Quirrell informed him before he gestured back towards the door.
With a sigh of relief, Harry tried the handle of the door and found it to be unlocked, so with a gentle push he opened it to reveal a fairly small room. Only forty or so feet deep, the room was much taller than it was wide. But it needed to be, to fit the enormous beast that was sat growling at the now open door. It was immense, an oversized canine body covered in black fur, three heavy leather collars wrapped around three huge necks that connected to three angry looking heads. A distant part of Harry's mind wondered how they had fit such a large beast through a normal sized door, but it was quickly drowned out when the Cerberus began to growl. A deep, primal sound, the growl shook the stone beneath Harry's feet and he couldn't help the small shiver that ran down his back at the sound. He could feel the hairs on his arms rising up as he took a very small step backwards.
The beast climbed onto its enormous paws and stood, leaning towards him, though he was grateful when it suddenly stopped and he heard the sound of chains being pulled on. He took a few deep breaths as he heard the professor step into the doorway behind him and the reminder that this was a test helped him to recover some of his wits as he gripped his cane tightly.
Now that he knew the Cerberus couldn't reach him as long as he didn't step any closer, he took a moment to examine it. It had an interesting colour in his sight, his Fulgomancy showing him the magic that flowed through its body. It had a deep brown magic, almost black, but speckled across its body were dashes of deep blue, very similar to the threads that ran through Hagrid's magic. The reminder of Hagrid almost made him laugh as he realised he knew exactly how to get past this creature, though perhaps not in the way Professor Quirrell was expecting.
He wet his lips nervously before he pursed them and let out a tuneless whistle. One of the enormous heads of the Cerberus cocked at the noise, the growl quieting ever so slightly. With a grin, Harry let out another whistle, but this time he did his best to create a specific tune that Hagrid had taught him, though Hagrid had been using an oversized flute to do so. As he recreated the tune, an old lullaby according to Hagrid, he was relieved to note that all three heads were now following his tune, nodding along as they slowly lowered to the ground. It only took three repetitions before deep rumbling snores filled the room.
Harry turned to face Professor Quirrell and was surprised to see a lock of shock and something else on his face before the defence professor shook his head and gave a slow silent clap for him. It might have been a little patronising, but Harry didn't want to annoy the professor, so he just smiled and began to walk back towards the door. He was stopped when the door swung closed silently and he turned to see the professor had moved to the middle of the room and opened a trapdoor in the floor beside one of the paws of the Cerberus. The professor pointed down at the opening and stood beside the hatch waiting.
Right, multiple obstacles. Harry made his way over to the open hatch and peered over the edge into darkness. He could make out stone walls with his sight but the bottom of the drop was beyond his awareness. He was about to try and mime a question to the professor about how far down it was when he felt a sudden pressure on his back. He had no time to grab for a ledge before he was falling, his robes flapping around him as he plummeted. Then he landed on something soft, if a little damp. His cane had landed a few feet away but as he reached to grab it, a tendril wrapped around his arm, dragging it down. A jolt of fear ran up his spine as he realised the soft landing had been provided by Devil's Snare. The plant was known to trap and constrict any creature that landed in it, killing it to feed its roots. He struggled to reach for his holster, grasping his wand with his fingertips as he fought against the vines that were wrapped around him and doing their best to crush him.
"Lumos Solem." He incanted as bright warm light burst from his wand, basking the dark green vines around him in the light they so hated. The effect was immediate as the vines and tendrils all darted back to the edges of the room, squirming against the stone walls in their efforts to escape the light. With a silent thanks to Neville for his help with Herbology, Harry walked over to where his cane had fallen and looked around.
"W-well d-done Mr P-potter, P-professor Flitwick was r-right about you it seems." Professor Quirrell said as he floated down on a thin disc of magic. "S-s-sorry f-for t-the p-push b-but the C-cerberus w-was w-w-waking up." As if it heard them, a cacophony of barks echoed down from above.
Harry frowned but after thinking of it for a moment, decided that a soft landing on Devil's Snare was preferable to being bitten by an angry Cerberus. He nodded to the professor and turned to the only door in the small room. He walked up to the door, having figured out the format of the obstacle course now, and after checking for any magic on the door, pushed it open.
The next room was large, there was a door on the other side of the room that had a large heavy brass lock on it and fluttering above them were dozens of winged keys, some were too large to fit any normal lock, others seemed far too small, but all flew above them in a lazy circuit.
There was also a broomstick hovering in the middle of the room, but Harry's experience on a broom hadn't filled him with confidence and he didn't particularly want to fly up into the cloud of metal keys. He could see that, like the first door, the keys all had Professor Flitwick's familiar blue and silver magic filling them.
Professor Quirrell had moved to stand beside the next door and was silently watching. Not wanting to disappoint Professor Quirrell or Professor Flitwick who had obviously helped set the obstacle course up, Harry struggled to think of a way to get through the door. Deciding to treat it like one of his self-set challenges, he did his best to think of any method to get through the door. The obvious was to fly up and grab whichever key looked right, but he kept thinking.
He could levitate or animate the correct key, try to send it towards him or the lock. He could draw all the keys towards the floor, but he only knew one spell that could do something like that, and he definitely wouldn't be able to catch all the keys in it.
He decided to try the idea least likely to work but easiest to test first, walking over to the lock and casting the old thief's spell he had found. It had been in an old book in the braille section of the library, originally written by a French criminal, the spell didn't unlock doors but broke the locking mechanism within them. It was relatively easy to prevent and because of this it had fallen out of use, in fact he hadn't been able to find the same spell in any other book he read. Though there weren't any other books by obvious criminals that he could find in his brief search anyway.
"Confractus."
Crack.
He couldn't believe it. He pushed gently on the door and it swung open with a creak, broken pieces of metal falling from inside the handle as it came to a halt. With a smile and a brief look at Professor Quirrell, who now definitely looked annoyed (perhaps at Professor Flitwick for not putting the 'Incassable' charm on the lock?), he stepped through the now open doorway.
Professor Quirrell stepped through behind him, closing the door and then watching him silently as he examined the next obstacle. Harry was starting to enjoy this; it was just puzzle solving and he had always enjoyed riddles and puzzles. Maybe that was why he'd ended up in Ravenclaw with its riddling eagle guardian.
The next challenge was a giant-sized chess set. Each piece was twice as tall as he was and the board filled the floor between him and the next door. He could see the scarlet magic of Professor McGonagall on each stone piece and was surprised she was involved in the test. Then he was distracted by the wavering hemisphere of red magic that sat over the chessboard. It was very large, but what surprised him most was that the edge of it was constantly moving, one side would extend to cover all the way to the wall of the room on one side of the board, and the other side of the dome would retract to the edge of the board, and then they would shift, never stopping in one location for more than a second.
It reminded him of one of Percival Dearborn's stories from the Christmas evening they had spent together. Ward boundaries could be moved or changed by talented warders and curse breakers, Percival was proud to say he was among those listed, and some warders had realised this. So, to try and prevent curse breakers from getting past their wards by lifting the boundaries or moving them, some warders would create constantly shifting ward boundaries. It was a clever strategy as most curse breakers needed a boundary to stay still and at least a few minutes to affect it, a moving one was much harder to deal with.
Or it would be, but Harry didn't need to move the ward boundary. It was doing that for him, and his Fulgomancy meant he could see it move. It must have looked a little odd to see him just standing a few feet from the chessboard, unmoving just staring and occasionally whispering a count to himself.
He correctly counted the change to himself for the third time and decided that would be good enough. He moved to the left most edge of the chessboard and looked down towards the far wall. He waited a few seconds, counting in his head before he began walking down the edge of the board. He stopped when he counted thirty-three and pressed himself against the stone wall, breathing in and staying still as a curtain of red magic rushed towards him. For a second, he thought he had counted wrong, but then the edge of the ward stopped a few centimetres from his nose, and he released a mental sigh as he kept counting.
As his mental count hit sixty-one, the wall of red magic began to slide away from him towards the front of the chessboard leaving him with a corridor about a foot wide between the stone wall and the ward. He began to sidestep along the cold stone, he was two thirds of the way and it only took him another twenty seconds to reach the other end of the chessboard and relative safety.
He rushed to the door in case there was some other method to detect him and activate whatever the chessboard did, he wanted to avoid the rather wicked looking stone swords the pawns wielded if at all possible.
As soon as he touched the door, the red ward boundary that had been constantly rippling around the edge of the chessboard froze and then, with a little shudder, shrunk down until only it only encompassed the very middle of the board.
Harry didn't bother to check if Professor Quirrell had followed before he opened the door and stepped through, eager to solve the next puzzle. This wasn't Defence Against the Dark Arts; it was more akin to the stories Percival had regaled him with if anything.
Or it had been. The first thing that hit Harry as he stepped into the next room was the smell. A terrifyingly familiar smell, sweat and blood. It hit him like a wall and for a moment he had to check that he wasn't back outside the girl's bathroom with Neville. The next thing that tried to hit him was a large wooden club as it came arching down towards him from the enormous Troll that had been waiting for someone to step through the door.
Harry dived to his left, his cane slipping from his grip as he slid along the floor that was slick with various liquids, he did his best not to think about it. In one corner of the room was another Troll, but this one was clearly dead, its stomach torn open, blood and organs spilled around it and the awful smell of rotten meat drifting from it.
Harry struggled to his feet as he slipped in the filth that coated the floor, he didn't bother reaching for his cane as the still alive Troll lifted its club from the cracked stone floor. This Troll seemed taller than the one from Halloween, curving tusks jutting from its jaw, instead of a loincloth it wore some sort of animal pelts across its shoulders and waist. As it raised its club again, Harry's attention darted to the door he had stepped through, but it had closed behind him and he didn't know if Professor Quirrell would make it here in time to stop the Bull Troll, for that is what he realised it was. The ugly but far stronger and more violent cousin of the Mountain Troll.
Harry stepped back as the Troll swung again and raised his wand, he hadn't had great success in controlling this spell, but he needed to do something before he ended up a smear on the wall. With a single inhale he focussed on the pillars of magic. He could certainly imagine what he wanted to create, and he definitely had the intent, the need to survive was strong in him, so all he needed was the will.
"Coronem Ignem!"
Tongues of emerald fire burst from his wand, spiralling from the wand tip until they circled him, a twisting roiling ring of blazing fire. The Bull Troll tried to swing its club through the flames, and if Harry had been using the bluebell charm like on Halloween all those months ago, it would have worked. But he had progressed a long way since that night, driven partly by this very fear. His will was strong.
The club struck the ring of fire and immediately caught ablaze, the flames racing up the wooden shaft hungrily, biting at the Troll's grey fingers until it released the club with a shocked yell. Harry smiled as he pointed his wand at the now recoiling Troll, directing the ring of fire. The flames broke off and flowed across the space to encircle the Troll as it staggered back, raising its hands to try and fend off the fire as it swirled around it, tongues of it flicking towards its skin hungrily.
This was where Harry always struggled, controlling fire was difficult, it wanted to burn, to consume. Normally Harry could only hold the spell for a few seconds before the effort to control and direct the flames became too much, this was actually the reason he had learned the spell he had impressed Professor Flitwick with. But as he guided the flames to swirl around the Troll, pushing it back until it was cowering in the corner of the room, he found that it required little effort on his part. It was still a draining spell, he knew he couldn't hold it for too much longer, but he was able to keep it up until he had reached the door to the next room. Only once he had opened the door behind him, did he let his arm drop as he hurriedly backed into the next room.
The Troll's reaction to the flames flickering out was immediate and violent. It let out a guttural roar and raced in his direction. As he quickly closed the wooden door behind him, he was concerned for a moment as he wondered how a relatively normal looking door would hold up against an enormous angry Troll. The concerns vanished when there was a piercing sound, like nails being dragged along a chalkboard, or glass being scraped by metal. Then a loud heavy thud. Then silence.
Harry nearly fell over when the door opened suddenly, and Professor Quirrell stepped through calmly. His hand grasped absently at his side as he realised he had left his cane where it had dropped in the Troll room, but he was shaken from the strange feeling of loss when the Defence professor addressed him.
"W-well done Mr P-potter. Y-you d-did very well, you r-remembered the w-weakness of T-troll's and used it to flee. A sensible approach." Professor Quirrell stepped past Harry and over to a short plinth with a variety of bottles sat atop it and a small scrap of parchment laying next to them. "There is another way to deal with a Troll's resistance and regeneration though that you might want to remember in case of future incidents. Sudden and overwhelming force. Something to think on."
Harry did his best to catch his breath and stop his body from shaking as the terror of what he had just faced caught up to him, his hearing seemed to dull as he stepped unsteadily forward, and he missed part of what Quirrell said. He had nearly died. Again.
"-otter? Are you listening?" He shook his head to try and clear the fog from his mind before he turned his attention back to the Professor. Had he been a little less distracted, he might have noticed the fog wasn't all in his mind. Instead, filling the room was a very gentle haze of magic, nearly invisible even to Harry's sight, that was dulling his senses, slowing his mind. A potent potion, it was designed to seep into a target, through their lungs, their skin, and weaken them. Not physically, and not even all that much, but enough to make a difference. Harry would later learn that the potion was created by a distant ancestor of the Malfoy's and was used against opponents, to give them an edge in duels.
"Sorry Professor, just a bit…shaken." Harry muttered as he stepped up to the plinth, half a thought formed that perhaps he should go back for his cane, but it scattered as Professor Quirrell began to speak again.
"Good, now Professor S-snape came up with this as a test of your…logic I suppose. I will read the clue for you, and you must work out which potion will take us through the barrier ahead." As the professor spoke Harry focussed his struggling mind and dragged his attention up from the floor to the doorway ahead. It took him a second to realise what "barrier" the professor was talking about, because there was a thin stretch of space between the plinth and the door that his sight couldn't perceive. An undulating void that he couldn't understand, it wasn't black or dark, it was like what he usually felt at the edge of his awareness. It was emptiness. As soon as he thought the word, he felt sick. Whatever that was he didn't want to touch it. He didn't want to get any closer to it. In fact, he very much wanted to get away from it.
He took a staggering step backwards, and then a second before he felt a searing heat burning behind him. A wall of crimson fire, blazing bright in his sight had appeared between him and the door.
"Ah no no Harry, don't give up now. You've been doing so well; you've far surpassed my hopes for you. Truly very impressive for your age, I can think of very few first years who could have done better." Professor Quirrell gestured to the plinth as the fire behind Harry burned brighter for a moment, creeping across the stone floor as it inched closer to him. "Now, I will read out the clue for you, and you will have one guess to get it right. I won't repeat myself so pay attention Harry."
As the fire crept closer, the heat causing sweat to soak through the back of his shirt, Harry could only gape as the professor picked up the parchment and began to recite;
"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,
One among us seven will let you move ahead,
Another will transport the drinker back instead,
Two among our number hold only nettle wine,
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:
First, however slyly the poison tries to hide
You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;
Second, different are those who stand at either end,
But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."
"Now think carefully, you have about a minute before that fire reaches you Plenty of time for a clever Ravenclaw like yourself." Quirrell said as he stepped back and fell silent, watching Harry closely.
Harry thought frantically as he ran through the lines in his head, doing his best to ignore his awareness of the fire stealing ever closer. The largest bottle was clearly nettle wine, the other dose of wine was in the small round bottle, which meant two poisons were to the left of them, so the left most bottle must send you back and the smallest bottle would let you move forwards.
Without letting himself think about it, he quickly snatched the smallest vial, barely holding a thimbleful of a dark viscous liquid, and drank it down as he ran forwards into the curtain of emptiness that was between him and the door. He stepped through the emptiness and nearly fell as his awareness collapsed around him, darkness enshrouding him as blindness took hold of him again. The time between that step and the next was an eternity in the dark, only a heartbeat spanned the distance but it felt like an age to Harry as he did his best to ignore the faint noises that echoed in the void around him.
And then he was through, his awareness bursting from him, filling the room and showing him that his next step would send him tumbling down a steep staircase. He couldn't stop his momentum, he had rushed to get through the barrier, and could do nothing to prevent his fall. He did his best to cover his head and neck as he toppled down the hard stone stairs but still struck the back of his head on the floor as he came to a rolling stop.
He didn't know how long he lay curled up at the base of the steps, it felt like seconds, but it could have been an hour. He sat up, his arms and legs aching from the punishment they had gone through and a sharp pain lancing through the back of his head, a probing touch from his hands revealed a warm sticky patch at the crown of his head where he must have struck one of the steps. Or all of them. It felt like all of them. As Harry lay there a thought began to emerge from the fog in his mind.
"Oh well done Harry, very good." Quirrell stepped over and past Harry and strode closer to the middle of the room. "You know that's the one I had the most trouble with? I spent hours analysing the barrier, and even longer examining the various bottles, expecting a trap. Severus was always very good at deception, and I spent so long looking for a trick that I almost missed the genius of the challenge; it was simple. It really was a straightforward riddle, get it right and you can pass through, get it wrong and … well anyway. Now Harry, you are so close. I really will have to thank Professor Flitwick; he was right to brag about your skills. The last challenge is this mirror, if you can retrieve a small stone from the mirror then you have done it!" Quirrell pointed at the large ornate mirror that was positioned in the middle of the room.
It was as tall as the professor, a great ornate thing. It glowed a soft gold in Harry's sight, strands of magic drifting lazily at the front, stretching across the face of the mirror. For a moment Harry was tempted to step in front of it, but as he clambered to his feet, his right-hand clutching under his armpit, he focussed his attention back on the professor.
"Professor, I have a question?" He asked as stepped unsteadily to his left, doing his best to get closer to a pillar a few metres away. The room seemed to be some kind of old auditorium, with stairs and tiered rings all around the central circular space they were stood in.
"Very well, what is your question, Harry?" Quirrell asked, though his attention had almost entirely shifted to the mirror, his brows furrowed as he stared deeply into it.
"What happened to your stutter?" Harry asked as he finally reached the stone pillar and leaned against it, his whole body was telling him he should just lie back down, but he knew he couldn't afford to let his concentration falter.
Quirrell started at Harry's question, turning away from the mirror slowly as he looked back at the injured boy. Harry half expected him to deny it but instead the man let out a short bark of laughter, shaking his head as he did.
"Oops." He said as he stopped laughing and looked at Harry with a grin. "That damn stutter, do you know how difficult it is to talk like that? Let alone for a whole year. I was half tempted to curse myself at Yule when I realised it was going to take so long to get in here."
"But why? Why fake a stutter at all? Why did you want to get in here so badly?" Harry asked as he shifted his hand slightly, doing his best to hide it beneath his open robes as he wrapped his fingertips around his wand holster. He had little doubt that a Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts could destroy him without breaking a sweat, but he was still going to go down swinging if it came to it, maybe buying enough time for help to arrive.
"Ah well that is a long story, Harry. Involving murder, betrayal and acts of magic so great and awe inspiring that you wouldn't be able to wrap your little head around them. My master succeeded in pushing the boundaries of life and death further than anyone else, so far that only his own magic could defeat him. But Harry with the Philosopher's Stone he could return to his full power, and he could reward those who helped him. He could teach us long forgotten magic, how to bend the elements to our will." Quirrell pointed a shaking hand at the mirror as he spoke. "All he needs is the stone Harry, and its in there, all you need to do is get it for him."
As Quirrell stepped closer, Harry noticed something strange happening to the professor's magic. Tendrils of dark red were bleeding into the professor's pale yellow. Starting at the head, the crimson colour was spreading down and throughout Quirrell's body, twisting and stretching as it spread down the professor's chest before splitting, strands branching off to reach down the arms and legs. Quickly a strange skeleton of red magic settled inside the pale yellow of Quirrell's normal magic. And then a voice rasped out, it filled the room, echoing, sourceless.
"I will speak with the boy. Now."
The voice once again filled the room, louder now. Harry could feel the stone pillar tremble behind him, the floor rumbling slightly. The voice was cold, but a hint of anger had entered it at having to repeat its instruction and this time Quirrell had no choice as his hands reached up to his head, unwrapping the turban there.
Harry had to recoil as the first layer was unwound. The source of the crimson magic, which he now recognised as the same magic that had cursed the bludger so long ago, was revealed to be a face that protruded unnaturally from the back of Quirrell's head.
The face was horrific. Like a terrible parody of a human face, the proportions were all wrong. A wide lipless mouth and elongated jaw filled with uneven teeth, some jutting awkwardly from the mouth as a too long tongue lolled within. There was no nose, just two violent gashes above the mouth that seemed to work as nostrils, flaring painfully as the face gasped in breath. The eyes were too small, not by much, but enough to be noticeable, and the bloody sclera meant it was hard to tell if the eyes were even functional. Though, Harry was hardly going to trust that, he was proof that you didn't need eyes to see.
Strangely, the mouth didn't move as the voice rang out again, loud and deep, each word filled his head, blotting out everything else until the next word sounded.
"Harry Potter. Do you know who I am?"
"You're the one who cursed the bludger, and probably let the Troll in as well." Harry said, mostly to stall as he thought furiously about who it could be. A powerful wizard, nearly died from his own magic. When he realised who fit the description, he couldn't stop the word from escaping his lips.
"Voldemort."
The face twisted, the mouth curling up at the corners into a terrible smile as Quirrell's head was forced into an awkward nod. The pale-yellow magic was now almost entirely covered in tendrils of red, gripping and squeezing the mans magic and controlling his body like a puppet on strings.
"Yes. I am Lord Voldemort. You have been told things about me. About that night. They are lies."
"So, you didn't try to kill me and the curse rebounded?" Harry asked with a grimace as he felt pain thrum through his chest, something was definitely broken there.
"I will not insult your intelligence, Harry; I did intend to kill you that night. I offered to spare your parents, but they refused. Then I turned my wand on you, and then pain. Unbearable pain as my body was destroyed. I was reduced to this. A shadow, forced to survive by inhabiting the bodies of others. But with the stone I can regain my old power, I can correct my mistakes. I can bring your parents back Harry."
There was a grinding sound as the mirror began to rotate until the face pointed in Harry's direction, the golden streams of light stretching out, searching for something to latch onto. Now that it was turned, Harry could see that little motes of violet light drifted amongst the gold.
"Look into the mirror Harry. We both know you are not blind, but even if you were the mirror shows truth to all who stand before it. You do not need eyes to see it."
The truth of that statement became clear when the golden magic suddenly surged towards Harry, wrapping around his chest and then sinking into him, touching his own green magic and causing his sight to falter. Darkness. And then light. He was in the same room, but it looked very different. Wall sconces filled the room with a warm light and the mirror was still there but now he could see it. Not through his Fulgomancy but with eyes. Whole, undamaged, working eyes.
It should have been strange, to have no awareness of what was around and behind him. His Fulgomancy worked like a combination of vision and touch, he could feel his surrounding just as much as he could visualise them. But in that moment, it felt normal to see with his eyes.
To see his family stood around him in the mirror's reflection. His aunt smiling proudly with her arm hooked through a tall redheaded woman's. His mother. Alive. And next to her, tall and handsome with wild black hair and round glasses was his father grinning at him, a hand hovering above his shoulder, so close he could almost feel it.
He felt a dampness on his face and saw that a few tears were dripping down his cheeks. He had never been able to cry before, his tear ducts damaged along with his eyes. As he looked at the reflection, more figures began to step into view. Professor Flitwick. Terry. Neville. Castamir. Susan. Hannah. Percival Dearborn. Alastor Moody. Hagrid.
Finally, a tall figure stepped into view, wearing robes open over a shirt and dark tinted glasses covering his eyes. One hand gripped a cane, not dissimilar from his own but covered in carved symbols. The other was gripped in a closed fist, with a silver signet on his ring finger. It took Harry a second to realise it was him. Or what he might look like in the future he supposed.
But how could this be the future if his parents were there? Did that mean Voldemort really could bring them back?
Even as he wondered this, he watched as Petunia reached out with her free hand and lifted it, revealing a small red stone. It looked like a piece of rough polished glass, almost ordinary really, but a faint light flickered in its depths, like the embers of a fire ready to burst back into life at any moment.
For a moment, the dream floated in his mind, he could reunite Petunia and his mother, his parents could join him, and they could all be a family together. Until a dark wizard came and murdered them. A Troll crushed them with its club. A bludger tore through them.
He shook his head sadly as the dream shattered, his parents smiling even more proudly at him as he wiped the tears from his face. He knew the truth. His parents were dead, they had been killed by Voldemort. But he still had family. He had friends. And he couldn't risk them getting hurt again.
His aunt reached forward and tucked the stone into his reflection's pocket in the mirror and he jolted slightly as he felt a weight settle in the same pocket of his robes.
"Enough."
The vision was torn away at the word and his sight came rushing back. For a moment he missed the simplicity of normal vision as he pushed past dizziness at the sudden awareness of the room his Fulgomancy granted him.
"What did the mirror show you Harry? Do you know how to retrieve the stone?"
"I-it showed me my parents, my family." Harry gasped out as he watched shadows from the edges of the room gathering around Quirrell, wreathing him in darkness.
"And the stone?!"
Harry shook his head as he reached his hand up towards his chest again, leaning over slightly as he tried to ignore the hot pain in his ribs on every inhale.
"You lie. He has the stone. Get it."
The now almost entirely enshrouded figure of Professor Quirrell stormed towards Harry, arms outstretched to grab at him. With reactions born of many hours of practice, Harry whipped his wand from its holster and carved out a quick circle in the air as he cried out the incantation.
"Arx Murum!"
The familiar and comforting dome of magic appeared around Harry just in time for Quirrell to strike the front of it, the impact sending ripples across the hexagonal panels that made up the front of the shield. Harry resisted the urge to sigh in relief, he had no doubts about his ability with this spell, he knew it was strong, but he also knew that Quirrell was a fully grown wizard. Even as Quirrell stepped back and examined the barrier he had conjured; Harry did his best to focus his entire mind on the shield. He took deep slow breaths, trying to ignore the pain they caused, as he repeated the technique Professor Flitwick had taught him back in Diagon Alley nearly a year before.
"Break the shield. He has the stone!"
The darkness swelled outside the translucent dome, building and growing until a burst of dark red light tore out of Quirrell's wand and impacted with the shield. The sound was deafening as the spell crashed into the green barrier, cracks forming in the shield as it held. Just.
"Stop toying with the boy, break the shield!"
Harry ignored the voice that still tried to fill his mind, in his mind he held the form of the shield. Perfect, unblemished. His shield could stop anything. Would stop anything. He believed it with everything he had as he gripped his wand with both hands, pouring his magic into it.
Another burst of red light, followed by an orange spell and then a yellow one struck the shield. Each impact left behind more cracks, the front of the barrier weakening under the assault.
A final spell struck the barrier and with a sound like breaking glass, a large section of the front of the shield shattered. The spell that broke the shield dissipated with the impact, but it left a gaping hole in the barrier, more than wide enough for Quirrell to reach into and grab at Harry's arm.
Burning pain filled Harry's arm at the touch and he recoiled, his concentration breaking and the rest of the shield collapsing around him as he clutched at his arm.
"Argh! What was that? What did you do Potter?!" Quirrell demanded as he shook his own smoking hand.
Harry didn't know what had happened but as Quirrell lunged for him again, he did all he could think of to fend him off. Pushing his own hands at the bigger man.
More burning pain, this time focussed on Harry's hands, but the cries of pain that Quirrell let out gave Harry the desperate strength to keep going. He pushed his hands at every part of Quirrell he could reach, his face and chest, even his legs when the older man began to crawl away.
"M-master, it b-b-burns. H-help m-me!" Quirrell cried as his arm began to smoulder, his fingers crumbling to ash. The burning spread wherever Harry touched and as Harry's adrenaline fuelled strength began to fade, he half lunged half collapsed next to Quirrell and watched as the professor's body crumbled to burned ash.
As Harry lay on the cold stone, the last of his energy devoted to keeping himself awake, he could only observe in silent horror as the crimson magic of Voldemort gathered in the ashes of the body. The magic coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape made of ash and shadow, parts of it crumbling away even as it staggered across to Harry and fell onto him, bits of the ash falling to fill his mouth and nostrils as he choked on the still smouldering remains of Quirrell.
"I am eternal Harry. You will never escape me. Never defeat me. I. Am. Lord Voldemort!"
The voice echoed through the chamber as Harry sputtered and coughed, choking and suffocating as he tried to claw at the ash that covered his face and chest, filling his mouth and throat.
Darkness encroached on his awareness, clawing back the space that his sight normally revealed to him. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of distant hurried footsteps, a shout of alarm and a flash of bright light before the shadows finally took his awareness and he fell into warm dark.
A/N – Hey everyone, wow this was a difficult one. Took me many attempts and many rewrites before I was happy with Voldemort and the whole scene, so please let me know if you think I got it right!
So a few things, this Voldemort is a monster. He is a true villain. This is a wizard who brought Britain to its knees with less than a hundred Death Eaters. Yes, he used "dark" creatures as well, but this is a man who has delved so deeply into dark magic that he is almost a dark creature himself, he is immensely powerful and has decades of knowledge at his disposal. I will not be writing him like JKR, this guy is smart, cunning, powerful and ruthless. Luckily Harry is smart too and he has a lot of friends and allies to help him.
Secondly, the general consensus was to keep posting on the same story so that's what I'll be doing.
Thirdly, WOW! The support for this story has been amazing, I have loved reading all the reviews and private messages about this. Almost all of them have been very supportive and even the criticisms have been helpful so thank you all very much!
Please continue to Follow, Favourite and Review, it means a great deal to know that my work is being enjoyed!
The next chapter will be in about two weeks, I am doing my best to stick to that schedule though I may take a little break between the School Years.
Many thanks,
Daedalus Smythe