The older boys were climbing the very same spiralling staircase that we were descending when we ran into each other. There was a momentary pause, before a cruel sneer blossomed in Burke's face.

"You bloody snitch," he said, extracting his wand in a sleek motion that was promptly imitated by Flint and the both of us girls. "That prefect slag isn't going to save you now!"

"Protego!" I cast, the shield popping just in place to intercept Burke's opening salvo, some sort of nasty hex that pushed my arm back with a savage force, almost causing me to fall down and lose my wand.

"You think that a shield is going to help?! Ignis Globus!"

I readied my wand for another attack to my protective bubble, but instead his spell flew to the side and towards the nearest wall sconce, its flame elongating and growing in size and heat in front of our very eyes. A heat that increased and increased, and that my shield was doing nothing to keep at bay. I was starting to feel the warmth in my skin, as if I was standing next to an open furnace.

Shit.

"Back!" I shouted to Tracey. "Run back, now!"

We rushed to climb the stairs, my wand aimed backwards to keep the shield between us and our enemies. For whatever good that could do, as the skin on my face was already bursting with pearls of sweat. We hadn't advanced for more than five or six steps when I heard the 'whoosh' over our heads, and I pushed Tracey all the way to the side. Right over us, a ball of magic crashed into the wall and bathed us in a rain of burning pebbles, our robes catching fire.

But with no time to stop running, not knowing nearly enough spells to make an effective stand, I simply grabbed the girl's arm again to resume our flight. Tracey recovered quickly enough, though, and she cast: "Aguamenti!" drenching the both of us in a spray of water that sizzled on contact with the little fires, putting them down.

The boys launched a couple other hexes after us, but the very shape of the spiral staircase worked on our favour now, shielding us from their line of sight. I aimed my wand at the puddle of water resulting from Tracey's spell and intoned a quick "Glacius!" to freeze it down. A little trap to delay our pursuers, but not one that I would put my hopes on.

"Forget about Snape!" I said to Tracey the moment we emerged out of the staircase and into the entrance hall of the castle.

"Duskhaven?"

I considered it, but not for too long, because we simply couldn't remain still right where we were. Instead we rushed across the wide corridors and towards the Grand Staircase —not really following any plan, but simply because it was there. I could hear the rushed steps and panting of the two boys still chasing after us.

Duskhaven? Where would she be? Unlike Snape, who you could all but guarantee would always be either at his office in the dungeons, or his classroom in the dungeons that was next to his office anyway, the Defence Professor seemed to have a wider range of movement, strolling across the Hogwarts Grounds when she wasn't at class. And both the Defence classroom and her office were quite far away from our current position.

Just a handful of minutes ago these very corridors and halls would have been teeming with students going this and that way, but we were all supposed to be in class by now, as were the professors. So there was nobody around to intervene, nobody around to save us.

Oh, fuck this! We had no time for all this bollocks, and I was coming up with a crazy idea to kill two birds with one stone. So I headed towards the closest flight of stairs that went upwards.

"This way!" I shouted, right after a sick, yellowish magical projectile impacted the wall next to my side. I returned the older boys' present with a couple jinxes of my own, just to give us some needed cover, not even bothering to turn and lose any time actually aiming my wand at them.

The Grand Staircase seemed to be reading my mind, or at least in a helpful disposition, because the moment we stepped foot on it, it started to rotate away from its landing; leaving the boys stranded behind.

Or at least, it would have if Burke hadn't rushed ahead and jumped across the increasing gap to land a few steps below us. Flint, thankfully, seemed more cautious. He simply walked up to the edge of the precipice and started pelting us with spells. But at least he remained below, and soon enough he had to stop casting not to hit own companion by mistake.

We continued climbing the moving stairs —by now I was starting to get a stitch on my side— and Tracey shot an Impediment jinx aimed at Burke. But the older boy didn't even cast a Shield charm, he simply intercepted Tracey's magic in the air with his own wand, redirecting it away with a sharp motion to the side.

Cool. I needed to learn how to do that.

Not right now, though. Right now it was time to keep running. We exited the stairs and advanced along a poorly lit corridor.

Tracey was panting next to me, but she gathered her breath enough to ask: "Is this–?"

"The forbidden... corridor... yes!".

And ahead of us, one of the doors was ajar. I sprinted towards it and crossed the threshold, pushing the door with my shoulder to open it fully. Then I stopped in my tracks.

Tracey entered the room right after me: "Why did you–? WHAT THE HELL?!"

Which yeah, it was the proper reaction to coming face to face with a three headed monster dog taller than the both of us combined. A dog that promptly started growling at us, restrained only by the metal chain that kept in in place. Tracey and I both back-pedalled quickly to the nearest corner of the room, just barely out of range of the chained beast.

Tracey was shouting panicky things, while I spent some moments examining the room: I noticed the fallen harp by the opposite side of the giant monster, and the open trapdoor near the centre. But with Fluffy so active and excited there was just no way to get there without being intercepted first by one of its heads.

That was when Burke joined us, charging into the room wand-first, then pretty much falling backwards as Fluffy turned to bark at the new arrival.

And I saw my chance; it was now or nothing. I took aim with my wand.

Burke noticed what I was about to do one moment before I did. His scared eyes met mine for a beat, he started to say: "Wait–!"

"Sectumsempra!"

The good thing about Snape's little dark spell is that it could cut more things than flesh. Perhaps not so precisely or efficiently as a simple cutting charm, true, but it was also more powerful. Powerful enough to penetrate through materials that the first year spells we were taught just... weren't. Things such as metal.

The chain holding Fluffy back snapped with a bang and a cloud of dust, as the tension was suddenly released and the chain shot back into the wall. The monster itself simply leaped forward, almost with no visible effort, and landed on top of Burke —who let out a scream before disappearing from sight under its mass.

"Come on!" I shouted at Tracey, who was witnessing the scene with eyes like saucers. "Down there!"

I all but pushed her head-first through the trapdoor, then went down myself. But I stopped right there, with only my upper body sticking out, and turned to see what the three-headed dog was doing with my enemy. I could still hear Burke's screams under all that mass of fur and muscle, and they didn't sound too pained.

I bit my lip. If he was screaming, he was alive, right?

Shit... I didn't like the boy, but that didn't mean I wanted to be responsible for him losing a limb, or getting munched into smithereens or something. So I aimed my wand at the monster's rump and shot a simple stinging jinx. The creature yelped and turned around to face me with a speed that was entirely out of place when considering its oversized dimensions, but I simply let go and fell down fully into the trapdoor before it could reach me.

There. Hopefully that would give bloody Burke a chance to escape alive and with all his limbs, if he wasn't an utter moron.

The vines holding me were writhing under my weight —and that of Tracey, who was tossing around next to me and getting even more tangled in them with every passing second. I remembered this plant well; not only from the books in my fore-memories, but because earlier in the year we had been working with it in our Herbology class, and my sample had managed to grab, twist and rip the piece of parchment with all my notes from the entire afternoon. I hadn't been able to take my revenge then, under Sprout's eyes, but now...

"Incendio!"

The flames coming out of my wand made the creepy vines retract quickly, almost as if in pain, and we were both finally released onto the solid, cold stone of a passageway.

I climbed to my feet, then lend a hand to help Tracey up too. But she was still shell-shocked, muttering "What was that? What in Merlin's name was THAT?"

"Devil's Snare, of course."

She swatted me on the shoulder with an annoyed huff. "Not the plant. The beast!"

"Oh, that!" I said, raising my wand and casting a quick wand-lighting charm to light the way ahead. "When I was spying on Hagrid he mentioned he was keeping a dog called 'Fluffy' inside the castle. I think that was it."

"This is... this is crazy!" she said as we entered the room with all the little flying keys. And on witnessing the metallic flocks cruising through the air of the tall chamber she shook her head in disbelief: "All of this is crazy! Why is this even here?"

"You want the Gryffindor answer, or the Slytherin answer?" I asked her, as I ignored the flocks and marched straight towards the closed door at the other side of the room.

"What...?"

"Well, the Gryffindor answer, according to Potter and his friends is that the Headmaster has something valuable that he wanted to protect in Hogwarts, and so he set up some defences and trials to hide it beneath. Such as Fluffy up there, or that Devil's Snare. Alohomora!"

I pulled at the door, but it didn't move. Well, it was worth a try. And I wasn't feeling like trying to chase the golden key atop a broomstick. I had certainly improved in my flying —in no small part thanks to the girl next to me— but I was no Harry Potter. And neither was Tracey. Hmm... I wondered if...

"What's the Slytherin answer, then?" she asked me, her arms crossed as she eyed the flying keys. "Or should I rather say, Sylvia's answer?"

"Oh, that this is a honeypot. Dumbledore knows someone is trying to steal from him —Professor Quirrell, apparently— and so he sets up this scheme to try to delay him and catch him in the act. It wouldn't surprise me if the whatchamacallit isn't even here to begin with."

And yeah, I knew Harry was supposed to be able to extract the Philosopher's Stone out of the mirror. But what certainty was there that it was the actual stone, and not just a mere decoy? If Dumbledore really wanted to keep the Stone well protected, the safest place in Hogwarts was one of the pockets in his own robes.

Could Dumbledore also have designed this trial with Potter in mind, as a way to judge the boy's resourcefulness and abilities? Maybe. I wouldn't put it past the old wizard, but I certainly doubted he'd planned for Harry to go face to face against Voldemort's spectre, and to be himself out of the castle when it all went down. So yeah, the risk was probably real.

I examined the door's keyhole, and then tugged at my necklace, extracting Squeeble's white key and moving to insert it into the door. It couldn't be this easy, could it?

"The sizes don't match," commented Tracey, who was following my motions with curiosity.

She was right, but just as its tip approached the keyhole, the key started to morph under my fingers. I felt its metal surface stretching, shifting, becoming larger. Two, three teeth of different lengths appeared near its tip.

I paused for a moment, observing the strange transfiguration in surprised fascination. Then, I inserted the key into the lock —it fit perfectly— and turned it.

The door unlocked and opened.

"Wicked," I muttered, recovering my key, which promptly morphed back into its usual shape.

We crossed the threshold and entered the chessboard room, which looked like a small battle had taken place inside it, chipped pebbles and fragments of the stone statues littering the place. On the good side, though, it didn't look like the board was anywhere ready for another match —something which I had been fearing, as I wasn't that good at chess myself, and I didn't know if Tracey even knew the rules in the first place.

But with that danger clear we could simply move on, one more trial successfully overcome. I felt my confidence building.

"So we're really doing this?" asked Tracey. "No looking for Professor Snape anymore; we're just going to... barge ahead?"

Right, not ideal. I sighed. "Not much choice now, no? How much time do you reckon we have?"

"How does that matter?! You can't really expect to defeat a Professor, Sylvia; specially one that has gone dark. We barely escaped Burke!"

I wiggled my hand back and forth. "A spell to the back is a spell to the back, you know. I could use that same spell from before, it's certainly powerful enough to do the job. And we have the element of surprise this time; if he's focusing on the Gryffindors he won't–"

"Stop there!" shouted a voice from behind us. "Hands away from your wands! Or I'll bloody well hex you!"

I turned in place slowly, raising both my hands with open palms facing forwards. "Weasley?"

Ron Weasley looked like he'd just survived an entire building collapsing on top of his head. Both his robes and hair were white from all the dust and plaster they were caked in, and he was favouring his right leg. But his wand was aimed at us nevertheless.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Are you helping Snape?"

"Snape?" asked Tracey, sounding relieved. "Is he here?"

"Of course! We know he's the one planning to steal the Stone!"

"Snape? Are you serious?" I protested. Because I pretty much imagined that with all the differences from the original timeline, they wouldn't be stuck in that particular pet theory of them this time around. "Please, Snape was the one to actually save Potter's life when he was poisoned, remember that? You only think he's the thief because you're prejudiced against Slytherins!"

And maybe because the human bat was an arsehole to any Gryffindors his eyes fell on when in the Potions classroom. And when outside the classroom too, to be quite honest. But still, I was under the impression that saving Potter's bloody life would help dispel some of the Trio's mistrust of the man.

Ron scoffed. "Yes; because he couldn't have planted the poison in the first place, couldn't he? Dumbledore told Harry only someone with great knowledge of cursed materials could trick the school's protective charms; someone like Snape! He only saved Harry so he could get to play the hero in front of the Headmaster and gain his trust! And now he's told you to come here and help him, hasn't he? Well, I won't let you!"

"That–" I paused for a moment, shaking my head in disbelief. "You know what? I can see how that would actually make sense, somehow, from your perspective."

Ron's scowl went deeper, as if trying to discern whether or not I was mocking him.

"But it's not Snape!" said Tracey. "We know it's Professor Quirrell! Sylvia found his house-elf earlier this year. And it was most likely the elf behind the poisoning too, right?"

"Right," I confirmed.

"Professor who? What elf?"

"A former professor who's now joined the evil wizards' club," I clarified quickly. "Look Weasley, you're missing pieces of the puzzle. You can confirm the name with Dumbledore or your brothers later, but if we don't help Potter right now he's going to have to face– wait; is that Hermione?!"

My eyes landed on the uneven lump of dusty clothes in the background that I'd taken at first to be nothing but discarded fabric. I started walking towards her, ignoring Ron's wand that was aimed at me.

"Stay put!" he shouted.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"The... chess match. We had to make a sacrifice, to let Harry pass to the next room. But she's fine, just knocked out."

"Just knocked out?! Weasley, getting hit in the noggin is no bloody joke! How long has she been like this?"

"Er– a little over ten minutes?" he said, lowering his wand at last. "But there's no need to worry, Professor Duskhaven cast a charm to keep her safe."

"Duskhaven... is here?"

"Yes," he said, nodding towards the closest door. "She came through a little after Harry had left for the next room; she said she'd noticed that Hogwarts' enchantments had been broken and had come to investigate. She helped Hermione and then went after Harry. So that way he won't be alone when he has to face Snape... or... that Quirrell bloke. Whoever it is! He won't be alone, he'll have a professor by his side."

Red alarms. Red alarms blaring through my head.

"And do you trust her?" I asked him in a cold, even voice.

That seemed to take him by surprise. "She's the Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

"So?"

"Well, if she were evil, she would–"

"Act more like Snape? Because no way she's evil if she seems to hate the Dark Arts, no? There's just no way she could've been pretending all along. Whatever; you stay here, Weasley. I'll check on Potter regardless," I declared, moving ahead. "You stay here too, Tracey!"

She narrowed her eyes at me and said: "I'm going with you."

"Wait!" shouted Ron. "I'll go with you too!"

"And leave Granger alone?"

His gaze fell on the fallen girl, then back on the door, looking torn apart. "Er— she can stay here!" he said, gesturing at Tracey.

"I won't!"

I considered the option for a beat. Leaving Tracey behind would keep her the safest, so that was a plus. But a quick look at the girl's furrowed brow told me she probably wouldn't take being forced to stay here that very well.

"No, Tracey is coming with me," I admitted, to the girl's relieved nod. "You're going to have to trust us this one time, Weasley; that, or risk leaving Granger on her own."

With that, I marched towards the next door and opened it without waiting for his decision, followed promptly by Tracey.

This room was supposed to contain the trial by the Defence teacher. So, no trolls because our teacher wasn't Quirrell anymore. Instead the square room was completely empty, without any other door to continue through. The only things of note were the large symbols drawn on each wall, carved into the stones.

"They're diagrams of hand movements!" said Tracey. "Look, that one is for the Fire-Making charm, and the one over there with the kaunan rune is for the Windy spell."

"Hmm... do you think she means us to cast the spells?"

"Only one way to figure it out. Incen–!"

"Wait!" I shouted, stopping her arm from completing the movement. She looked at me annoyed, but stopped her casting.

"Too easy," I explained, my eyes roving across the walls in search of anything else I'd missed. "It's Duskhaven, no? A former curse-breaker, so... Revelio!"

New diagrams appeared on top of each of the symbols on the walls, outlined in the spell's red glow.

"Bugger! A trap?" asked Tracey.

"Uh-huh. Look, they are for different spells altogether. That right there is a yellow Vermillious, and the one to the other side is a modified Levitation Charm. I say we cast only these new ones."

She nodded, and we took turns casting the charms one after the other. Right after we finished, a door manifested in the wall opposite the one we'd entered through.

"What do you think would have happened if we'd cast the ones in the visible diagrams?" asked Tracey as we moved to the next room.

I shrugged. "Nothing good, it's my guess. Now, let's see... Potions. This is Snape's room."

We approached the central table, Tracey jumping a bit when the flames sprung out, blocking us inside the room. I picked up the parchment and started reading.

Right. I'd forgotten about this.

"A puzzle," I whined. "I really hate these things."

"It's not so bad," she said, taking the parchment out of my hands. "So, the ones at the ends aren't it. But they're different..."

"And the second from each side are the same... and that can't be the one that kills you, because it's the smallest."

"Do you think it's really lethal?"

I snorted. "It's Snape's room."

"Right. So... better to be sure..."

Five minutes later, we were still considering our options.

"Left of the nettle wine...?" I muttered. "Has to be this one, then."

"Is that really nettle wine? The one over the right end has to be nettle wine for sure, though, and it looks different."

I scratched my head. "Or maybe that's the one to go back. Also, they can be the same thing and look different! Remember that last line in the parchment."

"But if that one's nettle wine, then there would only be two killing potions and not three. It can't be, Sylvia!"

"Ugh! Bloody Snape! Fine, which one do you think it is?"

She paused for a moment, considering, then pointed to one of the bottles. "That one, I believe."

I grabbed it, uncorked it, and approached it to my lips; all under Tracey's looks of alarm.

I asked her: "You... don't happen to have a bezoar, do you?"

She shook her head. I sighed, wished for Ron to actually be here, if only to act as a guinea pig, then shrugged and took a sip.

"Well, I'm not dying... so far." I drunk the rest of it quickly, then approached the flames protecting the door to the next room. I placed my hand next to them, but I couldn't feel any heat; so taking a deep breath, I plunged my hand through.

"Good guess, Tracey! Now you should take the one to go back."

She frowned: "And stay there with Weasley?"

I shrugged. "Maybe this room will reset, so you can enter it again and follow me? But... Tracey, it might be dangerous, if Duskhaven is... you know. I'd rather you stay–"

"Shut up and move on!" she said, pushing me wholly into the flames. "I'll be with you in a minute!"

I nodded and crossed the threshold. Not really much time left to hash this out, with all the minutes we'd already consumed figuring out Snape's stupid little puzzle.

The door opened to a dark descending corridor that led to the final chamber, from which distant light emerged. I advanced in silence, half crouched and my wand grasped tight in my hand. I could hear voices ahead, but they weren't clear enough to distinguish the words.

Just as I was nearing the edge of the light, a shadow on the corridor's wall seemed to move. I looked at it, and found myself face to face with Professor Duskhaven —whose figure was somehow blurry and with the consistency of a human-shaped cloud of mist. She lost her impassive demeanour for a brief instant on seeing me, her eyes opening wide. Then she quickly rose a finger to her mouth in a shushing gesture, before casting a spell on me. I panicked for a moment, noticing my whole body had become transparent.

Oh, okay. It was just a disillusionment charm.

The woman then turned back to pay attention to what was happening in the room ahead. I heard a whispering, raspy voice say: "...once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body

of my own..."

Shit. That... that was Voldemort, wasn't it? That was Lord Voldemort's bloody voice. Voldemort, right there... just a mere steps away from us.

I felt a deep chill go through my spine. Like so often since Dumbledore had suddenly intruded into my life, I realised once more that these things that I'd read about were real. Because it was so easy to be nonchalant and sardonic at the villain of a children's story when that's all he was, when he was just a... a meme from my fore-memories.

But the voice travelling through the corridor was something else entirely, and there was nothing childish about it. It was eerie and wrong in some primal, fundamental way I couldn't put my finger on, but that brought to my memory that dark thing that Selwyn had been hiding. And when —despite my instincts telling me to run away— I leant forward a little to get a better idea of what was going on, I saw Harry Potter hovering in mid-air right in front of the Mirror of Erised, locked into some sort of paralysing spell that I didn't remember from either the book or the movie.

Standing in front of him, a tall man was facing away. And the back of his head sported a sort of distorted face, moving and speaking in a display of body horror that I might have found sort of funny in my past life, but that now only filled me with a revolting, deep sense of wrongness and unease.

Duskhaven —who I was by now realising might not have been exaggerating her hatred of the Dark Arts after all— chose that moment to act. She step forward wand in hand, her body gaining solidity once more, and said "Expelliarmus!" with a careful, even enunciation; causing Quirrell's own wand to shoot away from his hand.

There was a surprised "What?" coming from Quirrell as he span around to look with his own face at the interloper, followed by the hideous voice saying: "Use the elf!"

"Yes, Master! Squeeble, take her away!"

It took only a second after that. Duskhaven was starting to cast another spell, but the house-elf apparated right next to her, grabbed her hand, and they both disapparated with a loud 'pop,' leaving only the witch's wand behind, which fell and clattered across the floor.

I waited in tension for a few moments —my heart beating fast— but thankfully it seemed I hadn't been noticed myself, as Squeeble didn't reappear to go after me, and in the chamber Voldemort was once again talking to Harry after having recovered his wand: "Don't be a fool. Give me the Stone and join me, or you'll face the same end as your parents..."

Well, this was just great. Whatever had happened down there before I arrived it didn't look like things were in the right track, with the hero child being imprisoned by some sort of magic shit. And I certainly didn't like my own chances of facing the man himself on my own, even without taking the house-elf into account.

I heard a step behind me, and turned to see it was Tracey Davis, moving silently and with her eyes wide open at the eerie spectacle in front of us. I signalled her to stay put and be silent, which took me a couple of tries thanks to the spell camouflaging me.

Right. Not good. But here was an idea...

I extended my wand forwards, and aimed it not at Quirrell, but at Harry.

"What are you doing?" breathed Tracey.

"Finite!" I cast.

It was a gamble, but it worked: the force holding Harry in position suddenly vanished as my Counter-Spell hit, and the boy dropped to the floor. He at least didn't waste time being surprised, and launched himself into the corridor leading towards us. I said "Run! Head back, quick!" to Tracey, and moved to follow my own suggestion. Behind me, I heard Voldemort's voice scream: "SEIZE HIM!"

There was a scuffle, and the sound of bodies hitting the floor followed by a blood-curling scream. I turned to look and saw a kneeling Quirrell, looking horrified as his own hands started to evaporate in mid-air, all the while Voldemort's face barked orders at him. Quirrell, shaken, tried to grasp Harry again; but it took all of three seconds for the boy to realise what was happening, and learn to use his newly discovered power to lethal effectiveness.

"Shit..." I muttered. I'd seen it in the movie... but somehow this was worse. Quirrell actually tried to stand up and walk away, prioritising his own survival over Voldemort's insane orders at last; but by that point large portions of his head were already missing, exposing his brain underneath, and he just stumbled around as a newborn foal before collapsing down into ashes.

"Merlin," muttered Tracey, her eyes glued to the nightmare-inducing picture in front of us.

There was a moment of silence, Harry having past out after defeating the abomination who used to be a professor, when a howling cry made the both of us girls jerk.

"Noooo! Master!" The house-elf walked up to the pile of ashes and kneeled down next to it. "My master! Squeeble has failed you, master! Squeeble is so sorry!"

I took a step forwards —evading Tracey's grasp— and said: "Uhm... Squeeble, right?"

The creature didn't seem to notice my presence. He had stuck both hands into the ashes, crying incoherently.

"Squeeble? Hey?"

He looked up at me at last, but didn't say much. Large teardrops were falling down his eyes.

"Um– where did you take Professor Duskhaven, Squeeble? Where did you take the witch?"

He shook his head in sorrow. "Far! Ma– Master... master wanted her gone. Squeeble took her far. Squeeble took her to the sea."

"To the... sea? Right. And could you, perhaps, take her back?"

"N–no! Squeeble shouldn't! Squeeble doesn't want to be a bad elf!"

I sighed and aimed my wand at the creature. "Listen now, you little shit–"

But Tracey held my arm down. She crouched next to the elf, sounding calm and relaxed and like we had all the time in the world. Like Duskhaven wouldn't be fighting not to drown or something.

"But see, Squeeble," she said, all reasonable, "you already did what your master asked of you, didn't you? And–"

"Nooo! Master is gone, so sorry!"

"And now that he isn't here anymore... perhaps you should rescue Professor Duskhaven. You know it's the right thing to do."

"Squeeble is sorry! Master, please!"

I said: "You know... Professor Duskhaven is a very experienced witch. Perhaps she knows of some magic that could help your master."

That seemed to break his tantrum. He turned towards me with hope written across his face. "Do... does the girl think that in truth? Could the professor help Squeeble's Master?"

"Yes!" I lied. "But you must rescue her first, quickly! Bring her here now, before it's too late!"

He nodded and said: "Yes! Squeeble can do that! Squeeble will help his master!"

It only took him a second to disapparate and apparate once more, carrying Duskhaven's unconscious body, her robes dripping in salt water. She didn't appear to be breathing.

Oh, shit.

"Quick, Squeeble!" said Tracey. "Bring them both to the Infirmary Wing! Perhaps they can help them there!"

The elf nodded once more, looking bewildered but also hopeful. With another crack both him, the older witch, and about half of Quirrells' remains disappeared from sight.

"What about Potter?" asked Tracey after we'd had a moment of silence to gather our bearings back again. "Is he... you know?"

Oh, right. Potter, who I'd forgotten about. I crawled towards him and rested a hand on his body. "He's breathing, at least."

Then, I noticed a certain red pebble-like object resting on the floor next to him, having just escaped his pocket when the boy had fallen down. Curious, I picked it up and stood up, casting a Lumos charm to examine it better.

Of course, that's how Dumbledore found me when he entered the corridor barely a few moments later: standing over the fallen body of Harry Potter, with my wand in one hand and the Philosopher's Stone in the other.