Exams were finally over. Harry couldn't quite believe he had survived the trauma. The continuous cycle of revising, stressing, forgetting everything you'd learnt, and then actually doing the tests was enough to make any sane man go bonkers. But, with a sense of determination that he hadn't had before his time at Hogwarts, along with the constant encouragement of Hermione and Matthew, he had completed them without any major incidents. They obviously didn't know the grades as of yet (they would arrive during the Summer holidays to give him something else to worry about) but a part of him didn't care about that. He'd proved to himself that he could do it, that he could put his mind to something and accomplish it. That was more valuable to him than any mark he could be given. Hermione, as would be expected, did not have the same easy-going mindset. If she had been bad during the examination process, then there was no telling what she would be like during the wait for results.
What had helped them all concentrate on getting their work done and (hopefully) securing another year at the magical school, was that there had been no new developments with the Philosopher's Stone. Ever since Hagrid had let slip that he'd accidentally revealed some rather crucial details as to its protection, the trio had been on high alert, repeatedly making sure that Dumbledore remained on the school premises. Whoever it was they were up against, the hooded figure that had taken advantage of Hagrid and his loose lips, was evidently too much of a coward to do anything whilst the headmaster was in the vicinity. Something about that encouraged Harry - were they that much of a threat if they dictated so much by fear? Of course, it was understandable for anyone to be afraid of the most powerful wizard of their age...but the point still stood in his mind. It was the one thing that helped him get to sleep at night, instead of constantly thinking about the school's security.
The end of official studies had cast a jubilant mood over the school population, helped by the fact that the sun had come out. Many of the students had migrated to the edge of the Great Lake, sitting on the grass as they basked in the glow of the sun and a year's hard work. Matthew, on the other hand, had claimed that he was far too civilised to do just that so had arrived a bit later with a blanket for the three of them to sit on, along with a basket full of food. When Hermione, her curiosity never fully quenched, had asked him where he'd gotten it all, he had simply tapped his nose, much to her frustration. Such sentiments didn't last long as they tucked in, swapping stories of the past year, some of which they still couldn't believe. They laughed, they shared silent moments of reflection, and they simply allowed themselves to enjoy the freedom of being at Hogwarts when it didn't feel like a school. When it felt like a home. Maybe more a home than anything else they'd experienced. For the girl who had finally found her acceptance there after years of struggle. For the boy who had wandered for so long, only to reach the one destination he'd always been looking for. For the boy who had grown up to be misunderstood, who had needed the embrace of Hogwarts more than anything.
With his back propped up against a tree, which was providing a lovely bit of shade, Harry felt content as he watched Matthew and Hermione have a conversation about something . He hadn't really been paying attention, instead perfectly happy to just observe them in the act, taking in the way they moved and gesticulated so differently and yet...so very alike. Somehow, it captured both their personalities, the characteristics that he'd grown to find comfort in. Hermione's defiant stubbornness, meshed with her ability to always listen when needed. Matthew's eccentricity and uncaring attitude about the way people viewed him. Both of them with their brilliant minds that sometimes made him feel inadequate, though they'd never actually done anything to make him believe that. Both of them with their strong beliefs, which they never veered from, unless the other had a particularly strong argument. And both of them with their caring hearts, sometimes hidden away under tough exteriors, which they always used to lead them. Harry was amazed that he'd gone from having nobody he cared for, to knowing these two so well. And he liked to think that he had taken onboard some of their traits along the way, and vice versa.
If he knew one thing about his life, it was that it never allowed him to be this happy for long. As he watched his friends in mild curiosity, he became aware of a dull pain in his forehead. At first, it felt like nothing more than an itch but scratching at his forehead did nothing to alleviate the discomfort. He had only felt this a few times before and none as bad as this. There was a searing pain all of a sudden, sent shooting through his body like a knife on his nerves, causing him to double over. The only thing he knew was that the origin of the awful sensation was his scar.
Matthew and Hermione quickly picked up on his unexpected movement, shifting to be by his side. The former checked his temperature, not pleased with what he found. Some of the other students nearby were looking in their direction, perturbed by the distraction from their ignorant bliss. Hermione sent each and every one of them a scowl in the few moments that she wasn't checking over her friend.
"Harry, what is it?" Matthew asked urgently. "What's wrong?"
"My...scar," Harry managed to sputter out. "It...burns." His throat was croaky and hoarse, unlike anything they'd heard come out from him before.
"Do you know why it's doing that?" Hermione questioned. "Has it happened before?"
"I...don't know." He felt so feeble and useless, unable to help them find a solution.
Matthew stood up. "Can you walk?" After Harry just about managed to nod his head, Matthew gently took a hold of him underneath his arms, assisting him in getting to his feet.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked him. All of her logic had gone out of the window at the sight of her friend in trouble.
"I don't think this is a case for Madam Pomfrey, as good at her job as she is. We need to get him to Dumbledore's office. Quickly."
With Harry being supported by the both of them, they raced through the school corridors, earning the odd confused look from passers by. The unusual sight of the famous Harry Potter being unable to walk on his own, whilst his equally strange (at least from the perspective of most of the student body) friends shepherded him around, was obviously going to be one that sparked a lot of gossip throughout Hogwarts. Even when they rushed past people, they were able to catch quick glances of people muttering things to whoever was next to them, covering their mouths as if that would stop them getting caught. In an ideal world, they would have stopped in their tracks and told them to mind their own business. But they didn't have the time for such luxuries.
Matthew was leading the way, basically dragging them in the direction he wanted. He moved up stairs and through hallways in a practiced fashion, like he knew the way from memory. It shouldn't have been playing on Hermione's mind so much, trying to figure out a rational explanation for his knowledge. There was definitely a page or two devoted to the headmaster's chambers in ' Hogwarts: a History ' but she had read that a few times over and still wouldn't have been able to find the way without checking first.
It was when he turned another corner without really thinking about it when it became too much for her. "How do you know the way to Dumbledore's office?" She'd stopped walking, forcing him to do the same unless he wanted to drop Harry, who seemed to be regaining some of his senses. "It's like you've done this walk a hundred times."
Matthew looked angrier than she had expected. "Do you really think now is the best time to be asking these questions?" His voice was raised too, indicating his frustration at the needless distraction. "Our friend is in trouble and...what? You're focusing on your silly suspicions again!"
"They're not silly when you haven't given me any reason to stop having them," Hermione countered. She was faintly aware of Harry moaning unintelligibly, knowing that she shouldn't have brought it up. Why did her brain always overrule her mouth?
"We don't have time for this. Just be thankful that I do know the way, otherwise we'd be in even more trouble than we already are."
And that was the end of the short-lived argument, even though Hermione had the burning desire to keep it going. For once, she put her thirst for knowledge behind her need to help her friend. But, as they restarted their hurried journey, she kept a suspicious eye on the boy in front of her. He had made promises of opening up to her but it seemed that that was going to be trickier than she'd first thought. She was eventually distracted by Harry's improving condition, with the Gryffindor boy able to put some words together as more time progressed. By the time they'd reached the floor that the office was situated on, they would have gone as far as to say that he looked reasonably normal. Especially compared to what he had been like on the side of the Great Lake. He claimed that he was able to walk by himself, the first sentence he'd put together that actually made sense, but the pair still kept their hands on him. That was something they wouldn't argue about.
Dumbledore's office had a peculiar entrance. A gargoyle in the shape of what appeared to be a griffin guarded a spiralling staircase that went up to a spot they couldn't quite see. For some reason, they were filled with nerves as they approached. No matter how kind the headmaster was, he would always be exactly that. And students didn't normally just barge into the headmaster's private quarters. Even students as reckless and ignorant of the rules as them.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry shouted when they realised that they couldn't get past the stone figurehead. His voice was raspy and dry after his odd episode but he'd take that instead of being hunched over in pain.
"Professor!" Hermione echoed, hoping that their small voices would be loud enough to get his attention.
"What on Earth are you three shouting so loudly for?" a stern voice called out to them from the other end of the corridor. They'd stumbled across a professor - just not the one they had been looking for. McGonagall, a displeased look on her face (which was usually the case), marched over to them, her arms folded. "What could possibly be a just reason for you to be causing such a ruckus? Such behaviour should only be seen outside, where everyone else is, by the way. Why aren't you enjoying the sunny weather? We very rarely get it."
"We need to see the headmaster!" Hermione said in a rushed fashion, far from the composed answers she normally gave in class.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
"It's my scar," Harry explained, rubbing at it absentmindedly. Most of the pain had subsided by now but the memory was enough to cause him discomfort. "It started really hurting all of a sudden. Matthew thought that Professor Dumbledore should know."
"The headmaster has a lot of pressing matters to deal with, none of which include providing medical advice. I'd recommend going to see Madam Pomfrey, which I'm baffled as to why that wasn't your first port of call. Either way, the headmaster is not here."
"What?" all three of them shouted in unison, loud enough to make McGonagall take a step back in surprise.
"He can't be gone!" Hermione said worriedly, her face ashen. They'd all been dreading this moment, despite believing that maybe it wouldn't become reality.
"I don't remember you being in charge of his busy schedule. Professor Dumbledore was asked to visit the Ministry of Magic for an unknown, urgent reason. He's flying there as we speak."
"No, no, no!" Harry complained. "This can't be happening! They're going to try and steal the stone tonight!"
"How do you know about that?" McGonagall's voice was frosty, with an accusatory tone. Her gaze could have made the gargoyle run away.
"We just do! You need to get Dumbledore to come back as soon as possible, otherwise we'll all be in trouble!"
"Let me assure you that the Philosopher's Stone is perfectly safe. Even without the headmaster being here, there is no chance that anyone will be able to find or get to it. It should be way beyond your own concerns. The staff know what they're doing."
"Professor," Matthew said shortly, his gaze a simmering fire. "Please listen to us. The stone is far from being safe and any delay could prove costly. When have we ever lied to you?"
They stared at one another for a few tension-filled seconds and something seemed to pass between them, an understanding of sorts. Harry and Hermione were utterly baffled by the interaction - the standoff, for lack of a better term - but kept quiet, hoping that their Head of House would realise that they were telling the truth. Eventually, the older woman's posture loosened and she nodded her head.
"I'll try and get in contact with him...but you know how unreliable owls can be at the best of times. For now, please don't do anything foolish. If there is a threat like you say, the last thing we need is three children getting in the firing line."
"When have we ever done anything foolish?" Harry asked with a small smirk.
McGonagall looked at them for a bit longer, seemingly deliberating on her choice, before she hummed and turned on her heel, marching back the way she'd come. The three of them waited until she had rounded the corner before running away, Matthew leading the way. It was only when Hermione called out to them, panting for air, did they think to stop. The way the two boys were looking, it seemed like they thought they didn't need this delay, eager to get on with it.
"What are we doing?" she asked breathlessly. She was considering doing more exercise over the Summer, so that she could at least keep up with them during the next academic year. Hermione didn't enjoy falling behind in anything, even physical exertion. "Professor McGonagall told us to stay out of this. Dumbledore's going to be on his way back. Isn't that...I don't know...crisis averted?"
Harry gave her a questioning look. "We've done most of the investigation by ourselves. None of the teachers would even know that someone has been waiting to get at the stone if we hadn't just told McGonagall then."
"I like to believe that the adults in this place know what they're dealing with."
"And your unwavering confidence in authority figures is an endearing quality that you have, but it doesn't help us right now," Matthew said. "McGonagall said it herself - there's know telling when Dumbledore will get back. By the time he does, it might be too late. It's already getting close to evening."
"You don't have to come with me," Harry told her in a firm voice. "Neither of you do. If it's Snape, then he's had it out for me all year. It's like it's meant to be, me and him at the end. If it's not him...well, I don't know who would want it. If this was twelve years ago, then maybe you'd say...but he's dead now."
"Don't be absurd. I'm coming with you no matter what. You wouldn't make it five minutes without some support. You don't have to do this alone."
"And I'm not going to run away when it's important," Hermione concurred. " Neither of you would survive if it wasn't for me. I keep you in check and stop you from making silly mistakes. Such as charging into danger willy nilly."
Despite the situation, despite the prospect of facing mortal peril...Harry Potter found that a smile was on his face as he looked at his two best friends, refusing to leave his side no matter what. What had he done to deserve them? He didn't really know. Maybe tonight was the moment he repaid whatever force was looking down upon him by saving Hogwarts.
"What are we waiting for then?" he said to them, almost in a giddy fashion. "Let's go and save the Philosopher's Stone!"
xxxxxxxxxx
They'd always been slightly nervous whenever they stood outside the door on the third floor corridor but it was something more than nerves that ate away at them as they looked at it once more. Perhaps it was fear, which would have been reasonable, considering that they were planning on taking on a fully grown wizard if their predictions were right (surely it had to be an adult - no normal child would even know of the stone's existence). They'd paid a visit to their common room, just so that they could collect anything they thought might be useful. No one even questioned their erratic behaviour - they'd won Gryffindor so many House points throughout the year, barring the ones that Snape took off Harry most potions lessons (but when didn't he punish Gryffindors for no just reason?), so it was as if they were giving a bit of leeway by their fellow students. It was a useful position to be in given that they planned to be absent for the rest of the night. There had been an element of saying goodbye too when they'd stepped foot out of the fat lady's portrait - they were under the impression that they were coming up against a great danger and there was no guarantee that they'd be coming back from it. It was surprising how accepting they were of that fate, as if the entire school year had led them to this point.
Harry had picked up his invisibility cloak, knowing that that area of the school was still out of bounds, especially now McGonagall was aware of the threat. Finding themselves on the abandoned corridor, they'd discovered that it wasn't as abandoned as usual. Five members of staff stood guard at the entrance to the hallway, ensuring that no one got anywhere near Fluffy's room. It just so happened that there was no way they could have detected three small children skulking past, hidden from reality. Harry wanted to think about who had given the cloak to him as a present, wondering whether someone wanted him to do this, but knew those were ponderings that could last until after they'd survived this mess.
Hermione let out a gasp, Matthew putting a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. They checked back to see if any of the teachers had picked up on the noise, grateful that that wasn't the case. She looked rather sheepish when he moved his hand away.
"We forgot about how to deal with Fluffy!" she whispered. "We don't have an instrument to play music!"
Harry pressed his ear up against the door. "Can you hear that though?" There was a soft melody emanating from inside the room and, acting more rashly than the others would have liked, he opened the door, revealing the sight of the three-headed dog slumped on the ground, snoring loudly. A harp was playing on its own, the strings moving without being touched.
"So we know that someone is definitely doing it tonight," Matthew pointed out gravely. "They got past the teachers. Maybe they were already here before they took up watch. It might explain why the harp is still up - they heard all that commotion outside and panicked. Is that a good sign? That they're panicking? Or...does that make them more dangerous?"
"I don't really want to think about that. If they've been here a while, then we're already well behind them," Hermione added. "There's no point in wasting time talking." She edged towards the trapdoor, constantly wary of the giant beast waking up. They hadn't considered that the instrument could be bewitched to stop playing when anyone came near it, which would be a catastrophe with how close they were to Fluffy. Surprisingly, the hatch swung open with little resistance, unveiling...nothing. An expanse of darkness which couldn't be measured. There was no telling how far it went down and there was no ladder to make the journey negotiable. It was never going to be easy.
"How deep do you think it goes?" she wondered when she felt the presence of her boys by her side, the three of them leaning over the edge to peer into the ominous blackness. "It could be miles. That'd be a pretty good deterrent, not actually being able to get past the entrance without a few broken bones - or worse."
"I'll go first," Harry proclaimed, sounding braver than he actually was.
"You certainly will not! Like I just said, you could easily cause some serious damage!"
"One of us has to do it! Spending time picking who that is just gives this person more of an advantage. I'm going."
"Let's think about this properly. There might be another way down. Or maybe one of us knows a cushioning charm, although that is a year Three level spell."
"Whoever we're chasing went through here, meaning it has to be somewhat safe!"
"Or you'll fly down the chute and end up on top of their mangled body."
Whilst the pair bickered between themselves, Matthew let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. Without any warning, he used his walking stick to prod Harry on the back. With the other boy so close to the edge, the unexpected touch was enough to send him falling. The air was filled with the noise of yells for only a couple of seconds before a soft thud was joined by him telling him that he was okay.
Hermione looked furious. "I can't believe you just did that! You could have killed him!"
"Relax! Cushioning charm, remember? Is it really a level three piece of magic? How slow do the teachers go here?"
She wanted to delve more into the topic, wondering how he knew the spell and how he'd done it without them realising, but she was soon following the same steep path as Harry, Matthew giving her a gentle shove with what almost resembled an apologetic smile. It was rather fortunate that Harry wasn't directly below, otherwise they would have had a painful coming together. She was going to congratulate him on the forethought but quickly realised that it had had very little to do with him. He was wrapped tightly in green vines, which had started to drag him away. Hermione could already feel the angry vegetation getting acquainted with her, though they also had a new target in the form of Matthew when he joined them.
"Harry! Stop wriggling!" she instructed loudly. "This is Devil's Snare! Don't you remember what Professor Sprout taught us?"
"I'm struggling to remember most of our classes...mainly because of the mortal danger I'm in," he retorted sarcastically.
Hermione bit her tongue, allowing him to have some cheek since he was obviously scared. "You need to stop moving. Try and relax. Moving will only make it kill you quicker." She closed her eyes and did exactly that, making her body perfectly still. A strange sensation consumed her as she slowly fell through the vines, landing on a floor below. It was Matthew who soon followed her, landing with a slight flourish as if this sort of thing was normal to him. But Harry wasn't appearing as they would have hoped.
"What's he doing up there? I gave him perfectly clear instructions."
"I don't doubt your skill as a teacher but I think this requires a more hands on approach," Matthew suggested. "You might want to cover your eyes for this." He pointed his wand at the roof of vines (Hermione couldn't see that it had replaced his cane) and took a deep breath. " Lumos Maxima!" . A burst of vibrant light erupted from the tip of his wand, so dazzling that it still shocked Hermione despite her eyes being closed. The vines and plants recoiled as if burnt and Harry fell through the hole that was made, landing heavily next to them.
By the time Hermione checked to see if they were okay, Matthew's walking stick was back as he trudged forward, inspecting the new room. Harry allowed Hermione to dust him off, which she was doing slightly harder than she needed to.
"Why didn't you listen?" she asked angrily.
"The vines were tickling me!" was Harry's lame excuse. "I could barely stop laughing, let alone stay still. But we got through it. That's two layers of defence down. An unknown amount left to go."
"Can you hear...flapping?" Matthew called out as they neared him, the trio slowly walking through the corridor. They made their way into a tall chamber, where strange creatures were buzzing and fluttering overhead.
"What are they?" Harry asked.
"I have no idea," Hermione responded. It was one the few times her knowledge had failed her.
"Do you think they'll attack if we try to walk through?"
"There's only one way to find out!" Matthew scurried across the large room, making it to the other side where a door was waiting for them. He'd expected to feel sharp beaks pecking at him as he ran but the creatures were still flying overhead, not bothered about his movement. "The door's locked. We need a...oh my, they're keys! Flying keys!"
"How are we supposed to catch them?" Hermione shouted. Her gaze landed on a group of brooms stacked up against the wall. "You have got to be kidding me!"
The three of them had gotten onto the brooms with a great deal of trepidation. None of them had flown since their lessons with Madam Hooch and it hadn't been something they'd thought much about since. It had taken Hermione a couple of goes to get up into the air, with Matthew circling close by to give her some comfort. It had been fairly obvious to them which key was the one they wanted - a large, old, silver key was hovering awkwardly, with half of its wings crumpled, likely from the person ahead of them. Even with its apparent injury, the key was nimble and frustratingly evasive. It had taken all three of them pouncing at the same time to corner it, at great expense. Unable to properly control their brooms, they collided into one another, falling the short distance to the dusty ground. But Harry still held the key in his hand.
"That's going to leave a bruise," Matthew complained as he rubbed at his back, trying to stretch it out. "I've never liked flying."
Despite their injuries, they pressed on, Harry slotting the injured key into the lock. The next chamber was even larger than the one they'd just been in, dominated by a giant chess set. They edged closer to it, unsure as to what was going to happen. There were a few chess pieces missing, the others frozen and waiting. Harry tried desperately to recount the brief lesson he'd been given on the game by Ron Weasley over Christmas but he was finding it frustratingly difficult to recall any useful information.
"Do we have to play the game to get to the other side?" he asked. That seemed like the logical step. There were no instructions anywhere to direct them. Though, whoever had designed the defence wouldn't have wanted to make it easy.
"What if we have to win?" Hermione countered. "We have to keep playing until that happens. And the more times it takes, the further away this person gets. I like to think I'm good at a lot of stuff but this definitely isn't my strong suit. I could tell you some of the history about the development of chess if you want."
Harry winced. "Maybe another time."
The king on the opposite side of the board exploded into hundreds of smaller pieces, chunks of marble flying into the air and falling into the darkness of the cavern below. Harry and Hermione were stunned by the abrupt eruption, flinging themselves to the ground in the attempt to protect themselves from any soaring debris. Matthew, unperturbed, walked across the oversized board confidently.
"Checkmate," he exclaimed. "I told you that I'm not a fan of chess, Harry. That hasn't changed."
"That was you?" Harry shouted, getting back to his feet. "I thought we were under attack! I thought they'd realised that they were getting pursued and had come back to finish us off themselves!"
"Why would they do that? They're obviously fairly powerful. They're not going to be scared of three kids."
"You could have at least warned us!" Hermione pointed out.
"If you don't know by now that I have a flair for the dramatics, then I can't help you." He grinned at her, knowing that she couldn't stay mad at him. She was too curious about the magic he'd used - he could see it in her eyes.
"How did you know that that would work? You could have just made the other chess pieces angry."
"I didn't know for sure. It was an educated guess, if anything. If they don't have a king, then they don't have a game. Loophole." Matthew's smile dropped when he thought he caught one of the knights moving. Then one of the pawns definitely slid almost imperceptibly. His eyes widened. "We need to get to the other side! Now!" He rushed back to grab hold of Hermione's hand, pulling her along with him. As the chess pieces came back to life, Harry rushed after them, almost tripping over. Matthew had to duck his head quickly when a sword was swung clumsily in their general direction, forcing Hermione to get off the board first. He waited for Harry to reach them before getting off himself as the trio ran towards the small door waiting for them. The pieces were attempting to climb from the board too but their bulky shapes slowed them down. One of the rookes tumbled down into the vast expanse below, rejoining its king. With the boys shouting at her to get a move on, Hermione got the door to open. Once on the other side, they placed their backs against it, their chests heaving.
Matthew held his hands up in apology. "Okay...so maybe I got that one wrong."
"Maybe?" the other two yelled in unison.
"But it got us through that obstacle a lot quicker than actually playing the game which is the main objective here. And we didn't die."
"Only just," Hermione reminded him.
"I think one of the swords gave me a bit of a haircut," Harry added. "Although that's not as bad as whatever this smell is." He held his nose, grimacing at the pungent aroma. "What is it?"
Matthew wore a grave expression on his face as he pointed to a spot behind Harry. "I think your answer's lying on the floor."
It was something that none of them had ever laid eyes on before, apart from in the pages of their textbooks. It was a troll, ugly and enormous. And dead. Hermione couldn't bear to look, hiding her face in Matthew's cloak. Without saying another word, the trio walked sombrely to the next door, which opened straight away. As soon as it closed, the smell seemed to disappear but the image would stay with them for a long time.
"That's further proof that whoever we're chasing has got past the challenges," Hermione said.
"And here I was hoping that he'd fallen off the chess board," Matthew responded, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work. "Come on, there's nothing we can do about that. Look, there's something in this room too."
It was a small table, unremarkable besides the seven bottles standing neatly on top of it. They examined each of them, looking at the sloshing liquids inside.
"It must be the members of staff who have designed these obstacles," Hermione reasoned. "We've had Sprout with the vines; Flitwick will have charmed the keys; McGonagall was probably behind the chess board; and Quirrell will have brought in that poor troll."
"Which leaves Snape," Harry finished for her, his nostrils flaring. "The man who's no doubt waiting for us."
"On the other side of those flames," Matthew continued, gesturing to the two sets of fires, one black and one purple. "I'm guessing that these are potions. One must allow us to progress."
Hermione nodded her head. "There's a riddle here. And it confirms what you just said." She read it aloud. Harry grew more confused with every line she spoke and he was surprised to see that the other two were smiling. Hermione was practically glowing with glee. "It's a logic puzzle, nothing more than that!" Her brows furrowed as she looked at it more closely, analysing every word minutely. "I think I've got it. This one on the end allows a person to go through the black flames. The largest one protects you from the purple ones."
Harry shook the bottle in question. "There's not enough for all of us. I guess that means we finally have to split up."
"Don't be daft," Matthew argued. "We're not leaving each other right at the end."
"I don't think there's any other way," Hermione said sadly.
"Are there any rules with the riddle?"
"No...why?" She thought for a second. "You can't possibly mean…"
"Oh, I do."
"But that's cheating!"
Matthew shrugged. "This isn't an exam! And any dark wizard passing through these parts won't be thinking about their moral conscience."
Harry was more confused than ever. "Can you two fill me in on whatever your cryptic conversation is about?"
"Matthew thinks we can duplicate the correct bottle, allowing all three of us to go through the fire."
"Then do that!"
"But it has its risks," Matthew warned him. "If the duplication process is done shoddily, then the potion wouldn't work. And then you're going to get some nasty burns, at least."
Harry pondered on the conundrum. "We can't risk splitting up, not really. We're stronger together. I think we have to take a chance on this working."
"I'll go first." Before Hermione could protest, he held up a hand. "It's my idea. It's only right that I suffer the consequences if it goes wrong." Without anything else said, he placed the tip of his wand on the top of the correct bottle and drank from one of the magically produced ones. With a wink, he started to move towards the flames...only for Hermione to grab his arm at the last moment.
"Be careful," she whispered as she wrapped him up in a hug, somehow even tighter than the others she'd given him in the past. "There's still so much I need to know about you. But...more importantly...I can't lose a friend. So...this has to work. Otherwise you'll never hear the end of it, mister!"
"And I would never want to anger you, miss Granger." He focused his attention back on the fire before he nodded his head towards Harry. "Just like at the train station, hey? Best to get it over with quickly." And he sprinted towards the purple blaze, disappearing from view once he was consumed by them. The two remaining students waited for something to happen but got no sign either way.
"Did it work?" Harry asked, only to see Hermione drinking the same potion.
"Only one way to find out," she said after gulping it down. "I've left you the original one...we've got to make sure that you at least make it. But I...trust Matthew...to get it right." It looked as if she were trying to convince herself on that point. "Don't be long. And make sure you drink from the right bottle, please. See you on the other side."
She was a lot more cautious than Matthew had been, walking towards the fire instead of running. Harry saw her close her eyes before taking the final step, and then she was gone too. It was a strange and eerie experience to be left on his own in the empty chamber, the bottles being his only companions. After completing the whole journey as a trio, it felt wrong to be isolated, which spurred him on to drink quickly (after making sure five times that it was indeed the correct potion). It was a horrid taste as it trickled down his throat like a sickly slime but it left his body tingling in an odd sensation. He guessed it had worked and marched towards the fire.
It was incredibly odd to walk into the inferno and not feel any of the heat. It was quite possibly the peculiar experience he'd had throughout the year, which really was saying something. But he was not allowed to ponder the intricacies of how it had worked (he had to begrudgingly admit that Snape was good at his job). As soon as he stepped foot inside the next - and he hoped last - chamber, he was met with the sound of familiar shouts. Matthew and Hermione were by the entrance but pressed high up against the wall, bound by thick, rough ropes. Desperately, Harry tried to reach to undo the knots, his brain so panicked that he didn't even stop to think that he could have used magic.
"Finally, you arrive," an equally familiar voice said, making Harry realise that they weren't alone. A figure had their back to them as they looked at a mirror, the only object in the room. The Mirror of Erised, the artefact that had plagued his mind over the festive season. He wanted time to question why it was here after Dumbledore had said it was being taken. He wanted to know what role it had to play in protecting the Philosopher's tone. But all he could concentrate on was the purple turban that decorated the figure's head.
"We were worried that it was only going to be your friends that made it through, which would have been a shame. So very anticlimactic. But you didn't let us down."
"Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked in disbelief.
The man in question turned around at being named, a dark smirk on his face. "Surprised? Of course...who would suspect poor, stu-stu-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"
"What are you doing here?"
Quirrell rolled his eyes. "Maybe you're not as intelligent as you've made it seem this year. Why else would I be here?"
"But...why would you need the stone?"
" Let me see the boy ," a raspy voice shouted. A voice that Harry was sure had come from Quirrell's head. The professor unwrapped the turban slowly, enjoying the rapt attention he was getting, and unveiled an ugly face built into the back of his skull. " Harry Potter. It has been far too long ."
None of this was making sense to Harry but something about the face ate away at his memories. His scar began to burn, even more fierce than earlier that day. It seemed like a lifetime since they'd been by the lake. "You can't be him…"
" I have bided my time for over a decade. It is only right that my return is brought about by the same boy that initially imprisoned me to this infernal existence ."
Harry looked to his friends for help but found that their mouths were covered now as well. "Let them go!"
The face laughed. It was a horrendous cackle, dirty and mirthless. " Them? They are insignificant. They will be my first victims after resurrection...after you, of course."
Harry didn't even care that he was being threatened. Maybe if he stalled enough, he could give the other two a chance to find a way out of this. Matthew was so talented when it came to his magic - surely he wasn't going to come up short now. "Why are you using Quirrell?"
"Using me?" It was the professor who spoke now. "I gave my body willingly to assist my Lord. But this isn't about me." He looked at the mirror and his expression somehow got even darker. "The mirror is key to finding the stone for my master. He showed me that the world only revolves around power and this object will give that to he who needs it. I can see it, the infernal thing. Trust Dumbledore to come up with this. He always thought he was wiser than he actually was. Is it actually inside the mirror? Do I have to break it?"
Harry was edging closer, trying to take his eyes away from the haunted face that followed his every move. It took most of his effort to look instead at the mirror that was tormenting Quirrell. Unlike last time, he did not find his lost family smiling back at him. He was standing alone, with a smirk on his face, pointing to his trouser pocket. Harry was confused, something that was happening repeatedly in quick succession. Even more so when he felt the corresponding pocket on his person get heavier, an odd shape stretching the fabric. He swore that Matthew's eyes lit up as if he had noticed and, if that was possible, then the combination of Voldemort and Quirrell would surely pick up on it too. Again, his tactic was to distract them until he could think of something else to do. What that was, he had no idea just yet.
"I am surprised it was you, Quirrell," he called out, walking dangerously close. There had been no intention for the professor to use his wand thus far, though he must have done so to trap his friends. It was worth the risk, toying with his opponent. "Of all the teachers...I was sure it was Snape."
Quirrell laughed. "Oh, he would be the obvious candidate, I see that. But he was trying to stop me from day one, constantly getting in the way. Such a sad state he is in, being nothing more than Dumbledore's puppet. But there's nothing that they can do now. I'll be long gone with the stone before they realise anything has even happened. Right under their noses."
"I've preached in the past that overconfidence is a sin that can really set you up for failure," an old, recognisable voice said. The headmaster stood by the entrance, his expression grim and serious. His wand was already out. For the first time, he looked like the powerful man of the legends written about him. "I got the strangest owl delivery mid flight. Thankfully, it seems these three Gryffindors had the common sense to tell people what they were doing. I can only imagine what would have happened if I'd been allowed to get to the Ministry." With a flick of his wrist, the ropes binding Matthew and Hermione disappeared, sending them falling the short distance to the floor.
During the short commotion, a jubilant Harry had gotten too close to the enemy. Quirrell grabbed hold of him by the shoulder, dragging him to use as a shield. "You're still too late, old man. Now tell me how to get the stone or the boy dies. And you can't risk firing a spell. Imagine the Daily Prophet tomorrow if you were responsible for his premature demise."
Dumbledore looked conflicted, his mask of superiority slipping. Harry scrunched up his nose. There was an odd smell. Some sort of sizzling. He turned his head slightly, only to see that Quirrell's hand was smoking. Harry could hear him screaming in agony but it was drowned out by the pain in his scar that returned. The screaming seemed to be coming from within his own head, it was that loud and suffocating. And then darkness surrounded him.