May to June 1992, 1st year
There was nothing they could do about Lynea's discovery, because they had no proof whatsoever. At least Professor Snape was already keeping a close eye on the man, so they could only hope that their Head of House would notice, should Quirrel attempt anything. And according to Hagrid the Philosopher's Stone – they were all in agreement that this was indeed their mystery object – was protected by several contraptions from a number of teachers, most likely including Professor Snape.
During their discussion, Gregory had also finally remembered where he knew the name Flamel from and it turned out it was the same source as Harry's – a Chocolate Frog Card.
Daphne sternly reminded them that they were children and should therefore leave the issue to the adults (at which point Harry looked like he very much wanted to protest) and then casually dropped that their exams would start in two weeks which sent most of Lynea's housemates into some kind of frenzy. She, herself, was fairly sure that all the studying and revising they had done up till now would be more than enough and watched her friends despair in silent amusement. Even Hermione, who was without a doubt the most brilliant witch of their year, had fallen victim to the panic that enveloped most of the first-years.
The exams were easy, in the end. Even Neville said that he thought he managed to at least pass all of his exams and then profusely thanked them all for helping him out so much - at which Lynea, Hermione and the others only smiled gently.
They were all becoming increasingly worried about Harry, though, because the boy had started having nightmares again and with them came a searing pain in his scar. They managed to convince him to go to Madam Pomfrey, but the matron didn't know what was causing it, either, nor did the Pain Relieving Potions seem to work.
Their last exam was History of Magic, which was everyone's least favourite with the exception of Tracey, Millicent and Gregory – the only people on the whole planet who actually loved that subject for some unfathomable reason.
Hermione was just going over the answers with Theodore, as she had with every other exam, while Lynea accompanied them to the library. The three of them were probably the only ones who went to the library voluntarily after having just finished with all their exams, but their classmates hadn't commented on it so far. In that regard, they were just as strange as Tracey, Millicent and Gregory were for loving History of Magic.
There were many of the upper years in the library, studying for their own exams, but they managed to find a small table for their own and each went to retrieve their own kind of enjoyment – Lynea went looking for novels, Theodore for books about medieval magic, and Hermione for extracurricular material.
Lynea couldn't say how long they had been sitting there, reading in comfortable silence, when, suddenly, the doors burst open and a frantic-looking Draco stumbled into the library, looking around wildly.
"Lynea!" he exclaimed, ignoring the librarian's indignant admonitions. "It's Harry! Harry has been kidnapped by Quirrel!"
Lynea gaped at him. "I'm sorry, what?"
Draco braced his hands on the table, gasping for air. Lynea had never seen him so dishevelled in her entire life.
"Deep breaths," she said gently. "Try to calm down a bit and then tell us what happened."
Draco did as he was told and seemingly composed himself. "Harry and I were taking a walk around the lake – I think he was thinking about visiting Hagrid, but if he was, he decided against it – and we had just returned to the castle, when he suddenly disappeared."
Lynea narrowed her eyes. "And Quirrel?"
"It's just a hunch, I don't know who else would have a reason to kidnap him."
"Wait, hold up!" Hermione said, raising her hands in front of her. "Why do you think he was kidnapped in the first place? And why would Professor Quirrel of all people be responsible?"
Draco groaned. "We have no time for this, Granger!"
"Calm yourself, Draco," Lynea said. "Theodore, would you please go to the common room and inform the others? Draco and I will go to Professor Snape and inform him of the situation."
"I'm coming with you," Hermione said and then they were off.
Professor Snape's office was down in the dungeons, not far from the Slytherin Common Room, so they escorted Theodore first, before going to their Head of House. Professor Snape opened his door to them, only sparing a passing glance at Hermione, and listened carefully to what they had to say. Draco repeated what he had told them earlier and that he thought it was Quirrel, and Lynea added that it was likely, but they couldn't be sure, of course.
"That is a very grave accusation," Snape said slowly, "but I do understand your reasoning. I, myself, had several encounters with Quirrel that made him look all the more suspicious. And now that the headmaster is out of the school …"
There was a knock on the door. Theodore had arrived with the other first-years, all of them looking worried.
"Very well," Snape said. "Send an owl to Headmaster Dumbledore and then go looking for Potter in the castle and on the grounds. Stay in groups of at least three and do not enter any restricted areas. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," the Slytherins answered in unison.
"You three will come with me," Snape said to Draco, Lynea and Hermione.
He led them to the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side that had been out of bounds since the beginning of the year.
"Is this where the Philosopher's Stone is hidden, professor?" Lynea asked.
Snape gave her an inscrutable look. "Yes. But if even little children have figured it out, then it is hardly safe there anymore."
"Maybe Dumbledore shouldn't have trusted Hagrid with retrieving the Stone and helping hide it," Draco said, "because he hasn't been very good at keeping it a secret."
"Hagrid has told you about the stone, then?"
"Not exactly, sir," Draco answered. "He merely let it slip that it was a very important object to Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel and that several teachers had put in their efforts to protect it."
Lynea nodded. "We drew the conclusion that it was the Philosopher's Stone from reading about Flamel's achievements as an alchemist and the fact that Quirrel has been slowly dying for most of the year, now."
"I see," was all Snape said and then they stopped in front of an already open door.
Their professor cursed under his breath, then shoved the three children behind himself and carefully opened the door further, his wand raised.
Low, grumbling growls greeted them along with an enormous dog, whose three massive heads stared at them. Its six pairs of eyes had a wild look to them and there was saliva dripping from his yellowish fangs to the ground. It looked rather mad.
"Is that a harp?" Hermione whispered, pointing to an object lying near the dog's paws.
Snape flicked his wand and the harp rose into the air, starting to play some soothing melody. The effect was instantaneous – the beasts eyes began to droop, its growls grew more and more quiet and eventually it dropped down and laid its heads on the floor, the middle one resting on its front paws.
"Is it asleep?" Hermione whispered.
"Yes," Snape said. "It seems like someone has already went past. Whether it was Quirrel and whether he has brought Potter remains to be seen."
He looked back at the three of them and Lynea already knew that he wanted to send them back.
"You can't go on alone, professor," she said.
"And we don't have time to look for another teacher," Draco continued. "Who knows what Quirrel is planning to do with Harry."
"Besides," Hermione said in a timid voice, "you will be able to keep us safe, won't you, Professor?"
Snape looked at them for a moment and then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But you will listen to everything I tell you, understood?"
"Yes, sir."
Their professor nodded and then slowly stepped around the big dog towards a trapdoor they hadn't noticed before. Snape pulled it open and gestured for them to wait until he had made sure it was safe. They heard the soft thud of his landing and then saw a flare of orange.
"It's Devils Snare," came his slightly muffled voice.
Hermione's eyes widened and then she took out her wand, muttered something under her breath and conjured her favoured Bluebell Flames.
Hermione went on her knees and peered over the edge of the hole in the floor. "Everything alright, professor?"
"Yes," came the still slightly muffled answer. "You may follow, if you can keep up conjuring those flames."
"I'll go first," Hermione said to Lynea and Draco. "You two follow right after me."
The drop was deeper than Lynea initially assumed, but she landed on something soft and squishy – the Devils Snare, most likely. Hermione sent a jet of flames in her direction – she had apparently managed to finally modify the spell – and Lynea scrambled out of the way, so Draco could follow them down. Professor Snape was already waiting for them, watching with a pleased, yet grim expression on his face. They followed him down a stone passageway that led them even further downwards, deeper and deeper under the castle.
"Why would a trapdoor on the third floor lead this far down under the castle?" Lynea asked.
"The same reason why everything needs to move around and trick people into believing it to be something it is not," Draco said in irritation. "Fake doors and vanishing steps and all that. Honestly, that they allow children to wander around without any safety precautions …"
Professor Snape stayed silent, leading them steadily onwards until they reached a brilliantly lit chamber filled with bright objects that were fluttering high above their heads.
"Hagrid, Professor Sprout … This must be Professor Flitwick," Hermione said. "Charming keys to have functional wings. They will probably fly away if we try to catch them, too."
"And there are broomsticks," Draco said, pointing at the other end of the room, right next to the door Professor Snape was already trying to open with a series of muttered spells. "Lynea, you up for a game?"
"Not really. Although I can imagine Harry would love this – it's like catching the Snitch, isn't it?" She squinted at the keys. "We just need to find the right one among them, like a needle in a haystack."
Draco shrugged. "It is supposed to be a protection, after all."
He was right, of course. But why, then, had Professor Flitwick given them an obvious solution to his problem?
"Professor," Lynea called. "Do you think it will be safe to use the brooms?"
Snape turned to examine the brooms and then deemed them safe. Draco immediately grabbed one and set off into the air. Lynea sighed and followed.
"Look for a big and old one, probably silver," Hermione called after them.
How? Lynea wanted to shout back. There were hundreds of keys, fluttering and moving around. They didn't have the time for this. The stupid keys kept dodging and darting out of the way and she wasn't a bad flier, but not one with Seeker potential like Harry. Lynea stopped mid-air and closed her eyes, thinking back to the lessons her grand-aunt had given her on defence and offense in real battles. Then she opened her eyes again and looked around, searching for something out of place.
"Draco! Over there! The one with the half-broken wing."
Draco came to a halt next to her and squinted, trying to find the key she was pointing at.
"I see it. But how do we catch it?"
Lynea grinned and reached for her wand. "Freezing Charm." She fixed the key with her eyes and then aimed her spell in the general direction of her target – it didn't matter whether she hit the other keys, as long as the right one was caught as well. "Immobulus."
Draco was already next to the key the moment her spell hit it and snatched it out of the air.
"Well done," came Professor Snape's drawling voice.
Hermione beamed at them. "That was brilliant, you two."
The next room was quite dark compared to the one they had just left, but as they entered it behind Professor Snape, several torches came to life, illuminating a large chessboard complete with life-sized chess pieces carved from stone.
"And that's Professor McGonagall," Hermione said. "Do we have to play a game of chess?"
"It would seem so," Professor Snape said.
"I wonder whether we will actually have to win," Lynea muttered. "I can't imagine Quirrel being any good at chess. Or flying, for that matter."
"Well, the flying wasn't actually necessary for catching that key as you just proved," Draco said. "Maybe for this, we just need to play our way to the other side?"
"Easier said than done."
Draco flashed her a smile. "For you maybe. But I am actually quite proficient at chess."
"I am afraid you will not be able to show off your skills, Mister Malfoy," Snape said. "I will not endanger my students by letting them play a game of wizarding chess."
Lynea watched as Draco's blood drained from his face.
"What is different about wizarding chess?" Hermione asked.
"The chess pieces are animated to move on their own," Lynea answered. "I think in this case, it means that we might get severely hurt, should we get captured as a piece."
"But how are we supposed to get across, if we're not allowed to participate?" Draco asked Snape.
"I suppose you have accompanied me far enough. It is time for you to get back and inform the other teachers."
"No."
Snape sighed. "Mister Malfoy –"
"I said no," Draco said stubbornly. "My friend is in danger and every second we waste on arguing might put his life even more at risk. Besides, I know I am the only one here who is actually any decent at chess. We are going to play this game and we are going to win. I will make sure of it."
The two of them kept staring at each other for a few more moments, until Snape finally gave in – though he made them promise to retreat, should Draco not manage to win without having to sacrifice one of the pieces they were to substitute (at which Draco huffed in indignation, but he, too, made the promise). There was no need to worry, in the end, because Draco was brilliant at chess, no doubt about it. But Snape had been right – the game was a dangerous one. The white chess pieces showed no mercy when it came to capturing one of their pieces. They smashed them ruthlessly to the ground and then dragged them off of the board. The children didn't want to imagine one of their own in that position …
Draco did his best to finish the game as quickly as he could, but with four pieces he couldn't sacrifice that was a rather difficult feat. When he finally called out "Checkmate!" and the white king threw his crown at Draco's feet, they all heaved a huge sigh of relief. The chest pieces parted and bowed, allowing them access to the door behind them.
They already smelled the next task before they reached it.
"A troll?" Lynea said with a huff. "Really? He couldn't think of anything else?"
"At least we don't have to fight it," Draco muttered, pulling his robe up to cover his nose. "Disgusting."
"Like his personality," Lynea said. "Now we know that the troll on Samhain was his doing as well."
"He was trying to get a look at the protections," Snape said. "That damn dog nearly bit my leg off when I went to check."
So that was the reason their professor had been limping after the feast.
Hermione, meanwhile, was muttering under her breath again as they went down the next corridor.
"Professor?" she asked as they reached another door. "Could the next protection be yours?"
Snape smiled. "Indeed, Miss Granger." He opened the door and let them go ahead.
The room contained nothing but a table with seven bottles standing on it, but the moment the last one of them had stepped over the threshold, purple flames came to live behind them. On the other side of the room, black flames covered the doorway.
Snape strode towards the table and then paused.
"Would you like to give it a try?" he asked, handing them a parchment.
"Brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed. "This isn't magic – it's logic – a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."
The corner of Professor Snape's lips quirked up slightly.
"But how did Quirrel get through?" Lynea wondered.
Draco smirked. "Luck, most likely."
Lynea let Hermione work through the puzzle while she took a closer look at each bottle and the liquids within. When she was satisfied that she had identified each one, she turned to Hermione.
"The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire," she said.
Lynea nodded and picked up the round bottle at the right end. "And this one will get us back through the purple flames."
"Indeed," Snape said in a pleased tone. "Well done."
Hermione beamed, but then her face fell when she examined the smallest bottle. "This isn't enough to get all of us through the fire."
Snape merely took it from her and waved his wand over it. There was now more than enough potion in it for each of them. The first-years might not have been able to multiply it, but they had a teacher with them – and they were accompanying Snape, not the other way around.
The potion felt like ice running down Lynea's throat, but the flames didn't harm her and by the time she had made it to the other side, the feeling had already subsided.
They entered a round chamber that was lit by numerous torches and contained only a magnificent mirror with two figures standing in front of it. The man with the purple turban turned around, dragging Harry with him, who was bound by tight ropes and gagged with some white cloth.
Harry looked at them with desperate eyes.