Chapter Nine: The Scuffle for the Stone
March 15th, 1992
The time since Harry's encounter with Voldemort's wraith in the forest passed rather quickly — after all, Harry had told Ron and Hermione that the Dark Loser would never move on the stone as long as Dumbledore was still in the castle. Not after the last attempt, anyway. Infuriatingly, the Auror Investigation hadn't turned up anything yet, but they were clearly not giving up.
Luna's birthday had come and gone, and Harry sorely wished he could have been at the party. As her cousin he knew rather well that she would like his gift, and she had expressed as much in her letter the day after. But it wasn't the same as seeing her expression in person.
On Valentine's Day, Harry had sent out yellow flowers to his female friends, along with chocolate frogs for each of them. He did receive some chocolates too, but he'd resolved to eat them later.
Aside from that, he was doing really well in all his classes thanks to his study sessions with Hermione and Ron. The only class he had a suboptimal mark in was Potions, but that was probably because Professor Snape — while no longer trying to get a rise out of Harry in class — was clearly marking him down a grade despite Harry's certainty that his potions were as good as Hermione's. Then again, Snape marked down Gryffidors on what seemed like principle — because Hermione was clearly the best in class, and she currently had an EE, same as Harry.
Regardless, Harry didn't let it get to him, nor did he brag about his ability when asked by anyone. When asked about his talents, he had a quick response: "Talent? Maybe. But talent means nothing if you're complacent. I study for my classes, and I trained for Quidditch the same as anyone else — Still do, actually. Don't want to get rusty in the offseason."
He had similar responses, too, of course — It just wouldn't do to sound like a broken record. The unintended consequence was that Hermione seemed closer to him than usual, and Harry wasn't sure what to think. It could be something, or it could be nothing. Sure, Hermione was pretty — he had come to terms with that fact long ago — but it wouldn't do to lead her on or misinterpret signals.
After all, though Harry had many friends in Gryffindor, he wouldn't risk any of them if wasn't sure he had feelings for any of the girls. After all, he was only eleven. Sure, he was (slightly) more mature for his age, but he still didn't know if his thoughts of that girl is pretty went any farther with anyone.
But today, such musings were far from his mind. Dumbledore was out of the castle, and so was Uncle Herbert. Herbert had taken a trip to see Ceres, and Dumbledore was out on business from one of his other positions. If there was any chance that the stone would be taken, it would be today. Ron had approached McGonagall about it, but it seemed that she had faith that Dumbledore's protections were sufficient. That night, Ron wanted to stop whoever it was, and surprisingly so had Neville — Kathy dragging him to Olivander's to get a new wand over winter break had done wonders for his practical grades, aside from potions. Harry supposed it did wonders for his confidence, too.
Harry spoke before Hermione could. "There's no way we're convincing you out of this, are we?" At the simultaneous shaking heads, Harry sighed. "Alright, best that we come along — someone has to make sure you two don't die."
Any objections Hermione had seemed to fade in her throat, and the four of them went to the door to the forbidden corridor. After Hermione unlocked the door, the four of them saw Fluffy snoozing to the tune of an enchanted harp. The unexpected part was seeing his cousins already there, trying to move the paw off the trapdoor. Deciding to question Kathy and Vince about this after the debacle was over, Harry and his friends helped to move the paw. With six people, the job was simple enough. After opening the trapdoor, they peered into the seemingly endless abyss.
"Any ideas about getting down without dying?" Ron asked with bewilderment.
After biting her lip with her (rather cute in Harry's opinion) large front teeth for a moment, she picked out a pebble from one of her jean pockets, and tossed it down the hole. After a far less amount of time than expected, everyone heard a soft 'plop'. Hermione had a victorious smile on her face. "Seems like a a soft landing, too short a fall to get seriously hurt. We'll jump."
The instant they heard the harp stop playing, there was no more room for argument — the six students jumped down into the darkness.
Neville had used his plant-based expertise to get them past the Devil's Snare; and Harry, Kathy and Vince had cornered the correct flying key. Ron had played the chess set expertly — though he, Neville, Kathy, and Vince had gone down. It was just Harry and Hermione now. Hermione had of course deduced the correct answer to the riddle — but there was only enough for one to continue on.
Harry looked at Hermione with a smile. "Well, I suppose I have to go on alone. Go back for Ron, Neville, and my cousins, and see if you can figure out how to get back up. Go to the owlery and have Hedwig send a note to Dumbledore — he needs to be here. If I'm right about Quirrell, he's been playing us for fools — I'm not going to be able to hold him back for long."
"Harry — what about —?"
"The Dark Loser? Well, I don't like relying on it, but I was lucky once —" In a sudden burst of movement Hermione was hugging Harry. He was a bit surprised, seeing as it was the first hug he got from a non-family member, but he reciprocated quickly. "Woah, there!"
"You're a great wizard, Harry. The best friend a witch like me could have."
There was a pang of sorrow and ... disappointment in his heart. Could he like Hermione more than he thought? Even if so, this was not the place to bring it up. "You're a great witch in your own right, Hermione. Most newbloods* don't have your same drive and smarts — and without your presence, I might have settled for mediocrity."
Hermione looked abashed and... was that a blush, or a trick of the light? Whatever it was, it faded before Harry could discern which it was. "Me? You're rather smart yourself, you'd have gotten by without me. There's more important things than smarts — like nerve, friendship, and —"
Harry cut her off. "Solidarity. Sure, I might have thought to test the drop distance, and maybe I'd puzzle the riddle out on my own. But what good is that if I don't have someone standing with me until the last possible moment that they can?" Harry hugged her a bit tighter. "You're my best friend, Hermione. Aside from family, I wouldn't have anyone else be here right now to wish me well."
Hermione had been a bit surprised about the intensity but she adjusted herself into it well. "Promise me you'll do your best to come back alive, okay?"
Harry pulled back from the hug to look her directly in her eyes. "I'll put in 112% Hermione. See you soon." And with that, they drank their respective potions and went their separate ways. Harry was now going alone straight into the viper pit.
Harry stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and saw Quirrell in front of the Mirror of Erised. "I see myself procuring the stone and using the elixir of life to restore the Dark Lord. But it has yet to come to my hands! How do I remove it?"
As Harry stepped closer, he could hear another, raspy voice speaking. "The boy has come, he is the key." As Quirrell turned to face him, Harry tried dueling him. Alas, he barely lasted ten minutes before he was in a full body bind and being set in front of the mirror.
Before he reached the optimal spot, he mentally prepared himself for whatever he might see. The image in the mirror did change to Harry holding the Philosopher's Stone and placing it in his pocket — and then he fell a new weight in that pocket. But Harry lied when he spoke up. "I see my family, just like last time." Though Quirrell let him go, Harry didn't get far before the raspy voice called him out on his lie and demanded to see Harry face to face.
The sight before him was rather sad — a snake-like human face protruding from the back of Quirrell's head, who Harry knew from the instant that he saw him. "Voldemort. What a pitiful sight you are. Or perhaps I should call you Volderrell, given your current status."
A sneer sprouted on Volderrell's face. "I see you don't fear my name, and even have the brass to make fun of it. Alas, your courage is misplaced. However, I could offer —" Harry just chuckled ruefully. At this, Volderrell looked indignant. "You dare laugh at my offer, boy? Do you not understand what I can do for you?"
Shaking his head, Harry replied. "No, I understand just fine. I'm just not interested. And what could possibly give you any other impression? I was raised by my uncle, Herbert Potter. I surround myself with people you consider undesirable. Dumbledore is practically a family friend. Yet you, in ignorance, think you have anything worth abandoning people I care for? Laughable. I'll answer you now, and forever: No matter what you offer me, I will always reject it, without question."
With a sigh, Volderrell raised his wand. "Bombarda!" Thinking quickly, Harry took out the Philosopher's Stone and put it between him and the spell. The stone seemed to take most of the energy from the spell before it shattered into pieces. The residual force pushed Harry onto his back, and he lay there slightly dazed. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
Harry stood up shakily. "Delayed your plans for returning for a while, that's what!" Harry smiled as he saw Volderrell's form start to show signs of fatigue. "Looks like the unicorn blood is taking is toll on your body! It won't last much longer."
With a primal yell, Volderrell lunged at Harry. Harry barely had enough energy to catch Volderrell's hands with his own — and Volderrell jumped back as he started to burn. "What magic is this!?"
Harry had a guess, but he wasn't going to enlighten his enemy. Steeling himself, Harry lunged at Volderrell's face and set it on fire with his touch. As Volderrell burned, Harry saw Dumbledore enter the room. "It was an act of mercy — Quirrell will no longer be troubled by Voldemort." After finishing that sentence, Harry collapsed.
Newblood, as you probably guessed is a term I've had Harry coin himself to refer to muggleborns.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm shipping Harmony — but I'm not going to have them get together until Year Four or Five. As for the other pairs, I'll drop hints as I go on. Though you can guess if you want, not that I'll say if you're right or not.
