Chapter 14: The Serpent Strikes
The end of term exams were upon them. Hermione obsessed with going over her notes at every opportunity, dragging the others along with her for impromptu quizzing. Harry was more than willing to oblige to reassure her that she was going to do just fine.
Daphne more than once glared at him when he revealed his knowledge of History of Magic, already aware of his ability with potions. In Charms, Hermione nearly had them all beat, with Harry being her main rival.
The final night before the exams began found the four Gryffindors doing one final study session before bed, though the three boys were convinced Hermione would be up late still studying anyway. The next morning, the slight bags beneath her eyes proved them right.
Their Transfiguration exam went off well, with Professor McGonagal seeming more than satisfied with their practical work. Harry didn't think he did too badly on the written portion of the exam either.
In Charms, Flitwick had them demonstrate the charms they'd studied over the year only hesitating slightly at Harry's Lumos spell but overall glad to see that he had achieved control over it again. Just like in Transfiguration, Harry thought the written portion didn't go too badly.
In Potions, Professor Snape gave a satisfied smirk when Harry turned in his potion, more than happy to see that he had excelled. He raised an eyebrow when he glanced at Harry's essay that made up the written portion. The greasy haired man looked up at him. "I will go over your essay with interest, Potter, but I am quite pleased with your potion
Astronomy, Herbology, and History of Magic were easy enough, though Harry was most uncertain about his Astronomy exam. He knew he hadn't failed it, but the subject didn't hold his interest as much as his other classes.
That Friday marked the end of their exams, after which they had a week before the results would be posted. Flying class and Defense Against the Dark Arts were the only two finals left. Harry should have known that Defense would not go the way he figured it would.
Flying was easy enough. Madam Hooch had set up a small obstacle course using balloons at different heights that they had to navigate through, which even Hermione had enjoyed.
Then came their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam later in the afternoon. Professor Quirrel had them do their written portion first. Once he had collected all the exams, he had them demonstrate what they had learned with mock duels. Harry proved himself quite well, he thought, but as the other students all filed out, Quirrel called after him. "Hold on a moment, Potter. I'd like a word, if you please. Your friends can stay as well." To everyone else, it would have sounded like the professor simply wanted to talk to his top students, yet to Harry and his friends, they couldn't miss a distinct undertone in the man's voice.
They hesitated. Neville and Ron stood near Harry, but Hermione had been near the door when Quirrel had called them.
The man stood in the middle of the room, wand in hand, tracing it with his fingers. He smiled at them and adjusted the turban on his head. Harry blinked. When had the man begun wearing it? He tried to think back, but his mind simply was a blank. Something was…wrong. Very wrong. Yet he didn't move. Couldn't move. There was something that seemed to be keeping him rooted to the spot. Glancing around, he saw his friends in similar states. Panic was in Hermione's eyes, yet she didn't utter a sound. Quirrel let out a chuckle. "Yes, I see you've noticed. Funny how a simple rune structure can do so much. A trick I learned from my master. I'm sure I don't need to tell you who that is, Potter." The man said. His tone was nearly jovial. Mocking. "All this year, I've been so close to you, yet my master told me to leave you be. You weren't his target, you see. No. No, he wanted what Dumbledore was guarding for a friend of his. But perhaps you know of that too. You seem to have been aware of a lot of things, Potter. Yet…why can't I see into your mind like I can most of the others?" He sounded puzzled now.
Harry struggled with all his might, trying to move. Trying to do anything. His hand arm twitched unpleasantly. He flinched.
Quirrel let out a harsh laugh. "It's no use, Potter. So long as I am in this room with you, you won't be able to move without my permission. I couldn't very well activate the runes earlier, now could I? Expose myself to the students? It's been bad enough with Snape and Dumbledore dogging my every move, but now Dumbledore is away. Had an appointment with the Wizengamot."
The door opened, and Professor McGonagal and Professor Snape entered the classroom. For a moment, Harry's heart lifted in hope but was dashed in an instant as they grabbed Hermione and dragged her further into the room. They let her go next to Ron and Neville, then went to stand on opposite sides of the room. They raised their wands and each fired a stunning spell that struck the other. They slumped to the floor, unmoving.
Harry could only stare in confusion and horror. Quirrel laughed quietly to himself again. "Haven't heard of the Three Unforgivable Curses, Potter? I know we haven't discussed them in class, but I would have at least thought your parents would have explained them to you."
The Imperius Curse, Harry realized. He'd had them under the Imperius Curse. Total mind control.
Quirrel nodded slowly, a cruel smirk crossing his face. "Ah, so you do know them. Good. Perhaps this will make things a bit easier." His wand suddenly flicked forward. Three stun spells shot forth and struck Ron, Neville, and Hermione as well. Harry heard them fall to the floor. Then Quirrel's wand turn on him. "Imperio!"
A feeling of bliss smothered Harry's mind, pushing aside all thoughts of fear, panic, anxiety. He felt like he was floating. There was nothing wrong. All was at peace.
"Walk with me." A voice whispered through this mind. It was light and floaty like everything else, but there was an underlying note of command.
"Why should I?" Another voice spoke up, this one seeming to come from within him.
"Walk with me." The voice whispered again, this time more commanding.
"No. I don't think I will." His inner voice said again, firm and determined.
"Walk. With. Me." The first voice commanded, no longer a whisper, but a demanding command.
"No! I will not." Came Harry's inner voice, and he seemed to shake himself. He was on his knees in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He looked around.
Quirrel stood some distance away having gone to the door. He was staring at Harry in mild bewilderment and annoyance. Amused look crossed his face. He raised his wand again. "Imperio!"
The blissful floaty feeling spread throughout Harry's mind. "Walk with me." He heard a soft voice calmly say. He felt his feet move a few steps.
"Why though? Walk to where?" Another voice asked within him again, curious yet confused. He felt his feet stop moving.
"Walk with me." The first voice commanded. And his feet began moving again. He felt himself getting to the classroom door. Closer to…
"No. I don't think so." Harry's inner voice said.
"Come with me, now!" The first voice demanded. It was nearly shouting now.
"No thanks!" Harry found himself on his hands and knees of the classroom again.
Quirrel was pacing angrily now, fingers tapping on his chin. "Master, the boy keeps resisting. I don't have time for this!" He snapped his fingers. He left Harry on the floor and walked over to his friends. He pointed his wand at Hermione and cast the reviving spell. "Rennervate!"
Hermione stirred, waking from her stunning. She only had a moment of confusion before Quirrel shouted, "Imperio!"
Her eyes went unfocused, and she climbed to her feet. She stood listlessly next to him. Quirrel turned back to Harry. "Now, Potter, perhaps this will give you some incentive. Come along quietly. I'd rather not have to resort to harming Miss Granger." And he kept his wand pointed at the Imperiused Hermione.
Harry climbed to his feet, glaring at the man. He didn't even think of reaching for his wand. Not with Quirrel's wand pointing at his friend. "Where are we going, sir?" He pushed as much sarcasm as he could into the word.
Quirrel's lips twitched. "The third floor corridor. Once we're there, I'll tell you how to get passed Hagrid's blasted dog. Now, don't even think of trying to escape, and don't tip anyone we might run into off. You understand? Then move." He stood behind Hermione as she moved toward the door.
Harry, seeing no other option, led the way. The walk was short and despite his desperate hope, they ran into no one in the hallways. Everyone, with exams now done with for the year, had gone outside to enjoy the summer weather. They stopped at the locked door.
Quirrel rolled his hand, indicating Harry to open the door. Harry reached out and pulled the door open. A low series of growls met their ears. Quirrel flicked his wand into the room. A small floor harp appeared and began to play itself. It was a quiet, haunting melody Harry didn't recognize. The three heads of the dogs stopped growling. They blinked as a sudden sleepiness overtook them, and the dog shuffled over to the side and slumped to the floor with a loud thump. A trap door was revealed in the center of the floor. Harry walked to it and waited as Hermione and Quirrel walked in. Quirrel flicked his wand at the door, and Harry heard a series of locking sounds. No one would easily follow after them, not that he was certain there was anyone who would.
Quirrel turned towards the trapdoor and flicked a finger at it. The door swung downwards. He gestured for Harry to drop down. He did so, landing on something soft and squishy, which he quickly realized was some sort of vine. Then he stared around him in mild fear. Devil's snare. He quickly glanced around, spotting an unlit brazer. He pulled out his wand as Hermione landed with a soft thump near him. Quirrel slowly floated down. He eyed Harry's wand in hand, but Harry only pointed it at the brazer and lit it with a quick flame spell.
The sudden heat and light caused the creeping vines to quickly release them and back down, becoming docile.
Harry quickly put his wand away, slipping it back up his sleeve into its holster. "When did you get Professor Snape and Professor McGonagal under the Imperius?"
Quirrel eyed him out of the corner of his eye. "Not long. I was only able to pull it off this morning. They both resisted fiercely, but I managed. A little…trick from my master."
There was something in the way he said it that put the hairs on the back of Harry's neck on end. Something in his tone. Before he could ask further, Quirrel gestured with his wand again, a smirk playing at his lips. "Nice attempt at diversion, boy. But let's keep moving. Bit of a tight schedule to keep. Through there." He pointed at a path leading down to the left.
Before he let his feet move, Harry risked a look up. The trapdoor looked like a small square of light high above them. Expansion magic had to be at work here. His parents had used it on their house in Godric's Hollow. Hermione bumped into him, and he looked passed her vacant state to glare at Quirrel. The man tapped his wand, and Harry turned back to the passage. It sloped gradually down and spiraled, heading deeper beneath the school.
At the bottom, the passage opened out into a room with five different arches leading off in different directions. Quirrel guided them towards the second from the left.
The passage looped back on itself, leading them up and around to an upper landing. A strange fluttering and clanking echoed around them. A door was set in a nearby wall. It was shut, and Harry had the feeling that it was locked tight. He looked up when the fluttering and clanking grew louder, and he saw a flock of glittering birds. No. Not birds. They were keys. A row of broomsticks rested on a rack nearby.
Quirrel scoffed, shoving Hermione to stand against the wall. "You have any idea how much time I've wasted catching the right key? Potter, grab a broom and get it for us. It's an old silver one. There. That big one by the ceiling, a bit separate from the rest. Now hurry up! And remember: no funny business!"
Harry inspected the brooms. He didn't believe them to be jinxed, but a faint glow drew his attention to the broom on the far right hand side. There was just the barest hint of a blueish glow. He reached out and grabbed the broom. Something surged into his arm, and he nearly dropped the broom. Pretending to have stumbled, he mounted the broom and risked a glance at Quirrel. The man wasn't even looking at him, keeping his eye on the needed key.
Harry braced himself. He had a feeling the keys would bolt the moment he kicked off the ground. He was correct! The moment his feet fully left the ground, the keys flocked together and bolted across the room.
Harry gave chase, urging the broom faster to catch up. His eyes darted around the flock and locked onto the key he needed. He stretched out a hand, his fingers barely brushing it. He threw himself out of the way as a key threw itself at him. The rest of the keys had circled around coming right at him. He pushed forward, following the key he needed as it jerked out his reach. It led him on around the ceiling and hurtled toward the floor. All the while, Harry continued dodging the other keys as they tried to hit him.
Harry swooped around then down, putting himself at an angle, his eye fixed on the old silver key. He snatched it out of the air, and the rest of the keys calmed down and went back to flocking near the ceiling. He hovered back to the room rack and landed lightly on his feet. Placing the broom on the rack, he noticed that the glow was now gone.
Hermione came up to him, hand outstretched. Harry shot another glare at Quirrel as he placed the key into his friends hand. Her fingers gripped his just a bit tighter than they should. Harry glanced at her. Her eyes were clear. Focused. Had she gotten free from the Imperius Curse? He looked away again quickly and stepped back from her. She took the key and unlocked the door.
Quirrel shoved Harry through first, Hermione coming through behind him. Quirrel entered last, pulling the door shut after flinging the key back into the air. It locked automatically.
Quirrel shoved Harry forward. Hermione followed him. She was doing her best to not do anything sudden, like she was still under Quirrel's control, but her eyes were wide with fear.
The corridor ahead sloped upward now, before coming to a staircase spiraling downward. At the bottom, they came out into what appeared to be the original room with the five branching paths.
Quirrel headed for the one in the center next, keeping his wand fixed on Harry. "A very clever set up, Dumbledore. Making a pseudo-dungeon below the school. Or perhaps, it's been here all along. An old training ground, perhaps? Never matter!" He muttered to himself. He nervously reached up and adjusted his turban.
Harry frowned. When had he begun wearing it? The thought seemed slippery. Like he couldn't quite hold onto it for long. An enchantment? He blinked in confusion, unsure what he had just been thinking about.
Quirrel gripped his arm and gave him a small push forward. "Move, Potter. This way. Granger! Come!"
Harry was seeing why it had taken Quirrel all year for this. He had called this a pseudo-dungeon. Was this really modeled after the dungeons that appeared in the old tales and stories? It was a maze constructed of magic. It twisted impossibly in on itself in ways he hadn't seen before. Twice Quirrel had to double back because he'd had them take a wrong turn, admonishing himself under his breath. Or was the turban muttering? Harry shook his head. He had to keep focused, for Hermione's sake.
The next room lay just ahead. Torches burst to life along the walls of the outer edge. In the center, a giant chess board was set into the floor. Large pieces, taller than even Quirrel, were arranged across it. The white pieces stood on the opposite side of the room from them. The man paced for a moment, thinking. "Alright. Alright. I can work with this. Potter, take this rook here. Granger, you'll be replacing this bishop. And I. I will be another bishop. Yes, this will work."
The pieces Quirrel called out got up from their spots and walked off the board. Hermione and Harry took their places. Quirrel took his place. White went first, but it wasn't till two turns later when Harry and Hermione fully understood what game was being played.
White positioned a pawn, and Quirrel sent in a knight to squash it. The black knight smashed the white pawn, throwing its pieces off to the side. Harry heard a sharp breath from Hermione. He couldn't blame her. A part of him wondered how Ron would have handled a game like this. Quirrel seemed to delight. Only twice did he send Harry or Hermione to take a piece, and in just a few moves, he had called checkmate. The white king threw his crown onto the board.
"Imperio!" Quirrel suddenly shouted, wand pointed at Hermione. He frowned and fixed a hard calculating stare at Harry. "A pity. If you were going to make a move, Potter, that would have been your opportunity. Now, let's move on. The room I helped with is up next, but you surely won't have any problem with it. We both seem to be rather competent with them." He smirked as the now cursed Hermione stepped forward and pushed Harry towards the door.
The path this time was more straightforward than the previous corridors. Harry paused at another shut door.
"Through there, Potter. Though do watch yourself when you first open the door. It tends to move around." Quirrel called from behind Hermione.
Harry opened the door cautiously and was immediately hit with a stench he had only smelled once before. A massive mountain troll stood on the far side of the chamber. A large club leaned against the wall nearby. At the sound of the door opening, the large creature slowly turned towards it.
It let out a snarl, jabbing a finger at Quirrel and reached for its club. The troll stood much taller than the one Harry had faced at Halloween. Harry moved to pull out his wand, but Quirrel shoved him aside. Hermione caught him, and he saw that her eyes were clear once more. The two hung back, though Harry managed to pull out his wand.
They dove out of the way as the troll's club smashed down where they had been. It was suddenly ripped from the troll's grasp, and it looked around stupidly. The club swung up and smacked it in the head, causing it to stumble back. Hermione shrieked and ducked out the way again.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted. He made to go to her, but the troll swung around at his voice. The club rose into the air and smashed downward. The troll's eyed rolled upward, and it collapsed with a thud that shook the floor. Harry looked around. Quirrel had Hermione in front of him again, his wand pointing to her. He was backing up, moving towards the door that led onward. He dragged Hermione through and the door slammed shut behind them.
Harry bolted across the room and tried to turn the handle, but it was locked shut. He pulled out his wand and tried the lock spell, but nothing happened. Then there was a soft click, and he pulled it open. Quirrel and Hermione had already moved forward. It seemed the last two rooms were directly connected. Which must mean the Philosopher's Stone was being guarded just up ahead.
He rushed into the room, making for the other door, but purple flames sprang up before him. Behind him, the door he had just come through slammed shut. Red flames sprang up before it. His way was now blocked both forward and backwards.
Harry looked around. A table lay on on side of the room. A line of potions in bottles of various sizes stood there, waiting, along with a piece of parchment. He frowned as he read it. So, this was Snape's defense. He read the parchment again. So it was a logic puzzle. One potion held the key forward, another the way back. Two bottles were only nettle wine. Two were poison. The test would be to use what clues he knew to determine where the potion forward lay. He ground his teeth. None of the potions looked to be emptied, which meant he suspicions were right. The rooms did reset themselves. Except perhaps the last. Can't resurrect a dead troll. But Quirrel hadn't killed it, had he? He shook his head. Worry about that later. Think. Which potion could it be? He reread the clues again, going over each one carefully, then examined how the different bottles of potion were arranged.
Again, he noticed just the faintest bit of glow around one of the bottles, and he picked it up to examine it. He felt another surge. He uncorked the bottle and drank it. Instantly he felt an icy chill about him. He walked to the purple flames, took a breath, and walked harmlessly through them. The door shut behind him.
He had entered into a large room. The only thing in it was a large mirror that he recognized at once. The Mirror of Erised. Hermione stood off to the side, bound by ropes. Quirrel stood in the center of the mirror, glaring at it. He looked around, his eyes falling on Harry, and a smile spread on his face that unnerved Harry and sent a chill down his spine.
"I knew you'd make it through, Potter. The reason is twofold: to save your friend, Miss Granger here, and to try to stop me from getting the stone. Tell me, boy. How much do you know? I've only been able to glean small pieces from Miss Granger's mind. I'm not as gifted as my master, but I do know legilimancy. But you, and your friends to a lesser degree, seem almost natural at occlumency. It's made my last quite curious about you."
"You said I wasn't your target this year. That Voldemort didn't want you going after me. Why then did you jinx my broom?" Harry asked. He was thinking fast, running possible ideas through his mind, looking for any way to get Hermione out of danger. And keep Quirrel from getting the Stone. At the very least, maybe he could delay him long enough. Someone surely would find Aunt Minerva, Professor Snape, Ron, and Neville. They had meant to meet up with Daphne and Susan after exams. Surely they would come looking? They knew their last exam was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Quirrel had turned back to the mirror with a scowl. "The goal with that was only an attempt to delay you, not kill. Same reason why I have not killed anyone today. By the dark lord's mercy, you will at least live this day. So long as you and Miss Granger remain cooperative, I have no intention of causing anymore harm than I already have. Yet it's strange how my curse seems to not stick to you. No doubt the blessing of the accursed unicorn. It was her meeting my master hoped to delay. Instead, you and your friends saw through the attempt. Dumbledore and Snape both kept a more careful watch on me from then on." He laughed mirthlessly. "Now. How does this work? I can see the Stone. I see myself presenting it to my master. But how? How do I get it?"
And a high, cruel sounding voice answered him. "The boy! Use the boy you fool!"
Harry's blood ran cold. There was no way it could be him. And words seemed to echo back to him from months ago, "When you have come face to wraith with Tom". His heart hammered in his chest as Quirrel whipped around to look at him.
"Potter! Come here! Come. Stand here. Before the mirror."
Harry's feet moved without him thinking. His thoughts whirled in a kaleidoscope of ever shifting ideas, searching for some way for him and Hermione to just run. Perhaps already, he had already delayed Quirrel long enough. His feet settled him in place at the center of the mirror. This was it. He looked into the mirror. Only himself was there. No. There, lurking in the background. A large, scaly eye. His eyes flicked to his reflection. His reflection winked at him, reached into a pocket and pulled out a large red stone. Then he slipped it back into his pocket, and Harry felt the weight of it as the real stone was slipped into his pocket. His reflection moved again, pulling out his wand. Brilliant light ignited at the wand tip, bathing the room. Realization began to bloom within him, though he wasn't yet certain how it would help him.
"Tell me what you see, boy! Do you see the Stone? Do you see where Dumbledore hid it?" Quirrel asked, his voice harsh, cold, and demanding.
"I just see myself. I'm holding the Quidditch Cup. And I've got the House Cup too." Harry said, lying quickly.
"Lies!" The high cold voice spoke again. "Let me speak with him."
"But master, you are not strong enough! You're still rebuilding yourself!" Quirrel cried out.
"Fool! I have strength enough for this!" Voldemort admonished him. "Now, let me speak with him."
Quirrel's hands shook as he reached up and began unweaving the turban. As the layers fell away, Harry's fear and anxiety grew ever stronger. He glanced around. Hermione was gone. She had gotten away? How? When? Had she somehow gained invisibility?
He swallowed and kept his focus on the horror before him. The last of Quirrel's turban fell away, and it took everything Harry had not to yell and flinch away. There, on the back of Quirrel's bald head, was a face. It stared at him through angry red eyes. It's nose merely slits like a snake.
"And at last, we meet face to face. In a manner." Voldemort spoke to him. "You've proven yourself more competent than I would have expected for one so young. Such bravery. Such courage. What foolishness." The high cold voice mocked. "I may be unable to pierce your mind as easily I can others, but I can still hear the lies in your voice, boy. I know you have seen where the Philosopher's Stone is hidden. I see the recognition in your eyes. Aid me in retrieving the Stone, and you and your friend may go in peace."
Harry gulped. "You'll let us go? Just like that?" His hands trembled, and he shook them slightly. He felt his want slip from its holster. He clenched his fists and kept them at his sides. His eyes remain locked on the red ones that seemed to be trying to bore into him.
"Now who's lying." Harry said defiantly. Though his voice shook slightly, he hardened the bit of resolve within him. "You wanted to murder me as a child. Murder my parents."
The red eyes blinked in surprise. "So, you have met with him then. Then he has also told you why." The cold voice was but a whisper. "It's only natural then for you not to trust me. But so be it. I swear to you that I shall let you live this day. If you give to me the Stone."
Harry couldn't suppress a snort. "Right. Then you'll be able to get a real body back so you can come kill then? No. I don't think so." His arm whipped out and up. Voldemort blinked in surprise at the wand now pointed at his face. "Lumos!"
The blinding light filled the room. Two screams of pain echoed around him, one high and cold, the other the voice of a normal man. Harry felt a small hand grab his hand not holding the blazing wand. He faintly heard two voices calling out beneath the screams, then he was elsewhere.
He tried to blink the spots out of his eyes. For a moment, he heard nothing but the echoes of the terrible screams. Strong gentle hands gripped his shoulders, while the small hand still held onto his. He finally blinked the spots from his eyes and the third floor corridor came into focus. Professor Dumbledore knelt before him, his hands clasping his shoulders. Harry could see his lips moving, mumbling something. He looked to his side. Hermione knelt on the ground, panting heavily. She looked exhausted. Like she could collapse at any moment. But she held on, giving him a faint and tearful smile.
Beyond them, he could just make out the shapes of his other friends. Daphne and Susan stood huddled with Ron and Neville.
Harry's hearing gradually returned. The old wizard leaned back, looking him over. "Harry? Can you hear me?"
Harry nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, sir. I can hear again. It's coming back." Harry panted out. "Professor! It was Voldemort! Tom Riddle! He was…He was possessing Quirrel! Sir, we've got to…" He made to stand up, but Professor Dumbledore held him down.
"Stay where you are, Harry. Calm yourself. Professors McGonagal and Snape went in after the two of you." Professor Dumbledore nodded to Hermione. "Indeed, it's thanks to Miss Granger here that I was able to return so quickly myself. A remarkable ability she's developed. No doubt a result of Amaranth's blessing."
Hermione grinned briefly before a sadness overtook her as she sank to a full sit next to Harry. "I just thought, 'We need Professor Dumbledore' and the next thing I knew, I think I apparated to him. At least, I think I did. He untied me, asked me what was wrong and how I'd gotten there. I was so beside myself, Harry! I left you there! Oh, I'm so sorry Harry! But I didn't mean to! And then once Professor Dumbledore had the story, he began leading us through the Ministry of Magic, cause of course he was in an appointed meeting of the Wizengamot, and then I thought about Ron and Neville, and suddenly Professor Dumbledore and I were stumbling through the hall. The other two professors had just hurried past Fluffy. And then…well, Professor Dumbledore tried to stop me, but I focused on you and appeared, right when you cast your lumos spell in you-know-who's face! Oh, Harry!" She wearily threw herself into his arms, breaking down into sobs.
Harry awkwardly out his arms about her, his eyes still fixed on Professor Dumbledore. "Professor! He didn't get the Stone! I've got it. It's here, in my pocket." He made to get it, but the old wizard he held him back again.
He wore a massive smile. "You managed to get it? Oh, well done, Harry! I had a feeling you'd be able. It was a rather brilliant enchantment. Only one who wanted to get the Stone, but not use, would be able to retrieve it." Then the old man's face fell, alarm and sadness filling his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. "But you say that Voldemort was possessing Quirrel? Ah, you young, stupid fool." He muttered softly, shaking his head.
The door behind them opened, and Harry and Hermione found themselves being embraced and checked over by an overly concerned Aunt Minerva. Professor Snape closed the door behind them. He and Professor Dumbledore shared a look, and the man shook his head.
Harry felt a punch to the gut, and Professor Dumbledore quickly pulled him around to face him again. "Listen to me, Harry! It was absolutely NOT your doing. The man was dead the moment he let Voldemort possess him. Quirrel's death is on his hands, not yours."
"He…he-who-must-not-be-named was…was possessing Quirrel?" Aunt Minerva softly exclaimed, a hand over her mouth. She looked like she was going to be sick. "Then, the Stone…"
"Is safe." Professor Dumbledore cut across her. "Harry was able to retrieve it and keep it out of his hands. Now, Severus, I need you to contact Lily and James. Inform of what has occurred, and if they choose to do so, wait for their arrival, and bring them up to the hospital wing. Have them contact the Granger to alert them as well."
Professor Snape gave a curt nod and swept away, his black cloak billowing behind him.
"Albus." Aunt Minerva began, but Professor Dumbledore held up a hand.
"Later. For now, help me escort Harry and Miss Granger up to the hospital wing." He turned to the four others still huddled together. "You four come with us, please."
By the time they had all made it to the hospital wing, Hermione was being half supported, half carried in. The moment Aunt Minerva had helped her to a bed, she had passed completely out. Madam Pomfrey had immediately fussed quietly over her for a few moments before she announced that Hermione had suffered acute magical exhaustion, and had rounded on Professor Dumbledore almost at once.
The old wizard held up a hand. "She went through severe emotional distress that led to her discovery of a very unique ability. I'm afraid I only have speculation at the moment, though I can confirm that it seems to be some form of apparition."
Madam Pomfrey spluttered and looked concerned at the unconscious girl. "Apparition? At her age?! Oh my goodness! She's lucky she didn't splinch herself!"
"I'm not sure she can. That is, not by this ability. It is my belief, that this ability of hers is a result of the blessing of an Elder Unicorn." Professor Dumbledore replied. "Just as your magic, Harry, has seemingly taken on a purifying aura. Specifically your Lumos spell."
"I don't think it's just my Lumos spell, professor." Harry said from the bed he sat on, and Madam Pomfrey busied herself with checking him over next. "It feels incomplete. Like I don't quite know the spell it actually wants to manifest through."
"Fascinating." Professor Dumbledore said softly. "Yet it's effect cannot be denied based off what you've described. You dealt Voldemort a greater blow than any of us expected, Harry. Although, I did suspect there may be one who did."
Harry's face hardened. "He knew. He told me as much when I met him near the start of the year. He told me straight up that I would come 'face to wraith' with Tom Riddle."
Professor Dumbledore was silent for a moment, simply looking at Harry. Then he nodded, slowly. "Yes. I dare say he knew this would happen. At least, he knew there was a very high probability that you would face Tom directly. And I'm sure that leaves you with some very heavy questions."
"Sir, what does this all mean?" Ron asked suddenly. "We're just wondering what exactly has happened. All Neville and I remember is getting stunned then Daphne and Susan reviving us."
"Quirrel attacked just before my last exam." Aunt Minerva spoke. "Had me under the Imperius Curse when I was caught unawares. Together, he had me aid him in subduing Professor Snape. Everything after that is a haze for me, I'm afraid."
"He tried putting me under the Imperius, but it wouldn't stick. He tried three times." Harry said softly.
The adults all looked at him. Aunt Minerva reached out and took his hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but the door burst open. Lily Potter ran into the room and bolted for Harry. She had him smothered in her arms in an instant. James Potter came in just behind her, with a panting David and Emma Granger behind him. They rushed to Hermione's bed, where Madam Pomfrey met them. Professor Snape entered last, closing the door behind him. He stood stiffly nearby, keeping his distance.
Lily finally released her son enough to sit back on the bed to examine him. "Oh my goodness! Harry, are you alright? And Hermione!" She looked over to where the two Grangers stood, shaken.
"I'm afraid that it was indeed him, Lily." Professor Dumbledore said calmly. "Voldemort. His wraith had possessed Quirrel directly. Though I do not believe he was doing so the whole year."
"Vol.." Lily began and broke off. She glanced at Professor Snape, who only curtly nodded.
James paced, grim faced. "But we only believed Quirrel was working for him. Why would Voldemort possess his body in such a manner?"
"That, James, is something that concerns me greatly." Professor Dumbledore replied. "And it further brings into question just how Voldemort has been able to survive disembodied as he is."
"But what about your source? The Sage? Has he really said nothing?" James asked, his voice rising. Lily reached out a hand and clasped his.
"I've not been able to commune with him lately, and the last time I did, he was more than a little tight lipped. Indeed, this whole year he has kept things close to the chest." Professor Dumbledore answered.
There was a small knock on the door. Professor Snape frowned and pulled it open. He stared, eyes going wide, as a qilin walked calmly in. Her lone antler like horn rose above his head, while her head came to about his shoulders. Summer's Breeze walked past him, past Harry and his parents, and walked up to Hermione's bed. She gave a warm smile to her parents, who were absolutely bewildered.
"You're daughter will be perfectly fine. She just needs to rest." The qilin told them. She sat and reached into a small bag around her neck and pulled out a bottle filled with a swirling yellow potion. "Lift up her head for me please."
"What is that? What are you giving my daughter?" Emma Granger asked, her hands resting protectively on her daughter.
"Just a little potion that will help her recover quicker." Summer's Breeze paused in thought. "Has anyone discussed the concept of mana pools or the toll on the spirit with you?"
David Granger looked to Lily and James. To Professors Dumbledore, McGonagal, and Snape. "Professor McGonagal and the Potters have discussed it with us, yes."
The qilin nodded. "Good. Right now, her spirit is exhausted, and that is sapping her physical body of energy. This potion," she held up the bottle, "will aid her spirit in recovering. It will boost her mana regeneration, if you will. As it is, she will be confined to a bed for the better part of a week, perhaps longer. With this, she will be back on her feet within a day."
Emma and David exchanged looks before looking to the Potters for reassurance. Lily and James, much like Professors Snape and McGonagal, along with Madam Pomfrey, could only stare in awe at the magical creature.
"You can trust her, Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger. Summer's Breeze has been nothing but helpful to us." Harry said, still in his mother's arms.
Emma Granger took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then she lifted her daughter's head. "If it will help her recover." She said quietly.
The qilin popped the cork of the bottle, and the most pleasant smell of a sweet smell, like the most delicious fruit, filled the whole room. Even just the smell seemed to revitalize Harry. Summer's Breeze tipped the bottle up, used a gentle claw to open Hermione's mouth, and dropped three golden drops into her mouth. As Hermione was settled back down into the bed, she seemed more at peace in her rest.
Summer's Breeze did not recork her bottle immediately, but instead came next to Harry's bed. She smiled at him. "Just one drop for you. Had Hermione and the professors been a minute later, you might've needed three yourself."
Harry tipped his head back, and Summer's Breeze let a single drop of golden liquid fall into his mouth. The taste was delicious. It reminded him of nice crisp, juicy apples, sweet oranges, and sweet grapes. A warmth spread through him, and he felt the aches and pains and exhaustion fade.
The qilin corked her bottle and slipped it back into her bag, then she sat down between Harry and Hermione's beds. She looked over the adults. "Now, for those that are not aware of my identity yet, I am Summer's Breeze before the Storm. Rather a mouthful for most humans, so you may simply call me Summer, Breeze, or Storm, if you prefer. Though lately, I have been going by 'Summer's Breeze'. The wizards in the room may recognize my kind, though the ones they are familiar with are more…primitive. I am a qilin, or kirin. And I have a message for those who will wish to know. The Mirror is active."
Harry tried to leap out of bed, out of his mother's arms, but his father placed a hand on his shoulder. "I need to speak with him!"
"Harry, you should…" James began, but his son cut across him.
"No! I need to ask him now!" He said, nearly shouting.
Professor Dumbledore stood and approached his bed. "Harry, I know that you are undoubtedly upset and concerned about certain things. Are you certain that you are up for such a discussion today?"
Harry paused, taking a few deep breaths, and looked out the window to collect his thoughts. It was only late afternoon. He wondered just how long they had been down in that pseudo-dungeon. He swallowed and looked at the old wizard. "I need to speak with him." He said more calmly.
"Then I suggest that your parents, as well as Miss Greengrass, Bones, Mr Weasley, and Mr Longbottom come along. I know it's a bit of crowd, but they are involved to an extent. Is this acceptable for you?" Professor Dumbledore asked him.
Harry gave a firm nod. His mother tightened her grip on him before helping him out of bed. She exchanged a look with her husband, who nodded.
Summer's Breeze strode towards the door and opened it. She waited as everyone that was coming gathered themselves.
Professor Dumbledore turned to Aunt Minerva and Professor Snape. "I'm sure the two of you have questions of your own. For now, I must ask that you give me some time to get Harry settled."
Professor Snape looked at Aunt Minerva. "Minerva and I have a…matter to still get sorted. With your permission of course, Dumbledore."
"Ah. Quite. Yes, that may be for the best." The old wizard sad softly and sadly. "I thank you and Minerva for taking care of it. If you would also send word to Madam Bones, that would be good."
Professor Snape gave another curt nod. "We'll see it done, headmaster." He held open the door.
Summer's Breeze swept out into the hall, and led them through the castle. They did not meet any other students or teachers, but soon found themselves on the seventh floor corridor directly in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. She paced before the wall three times, and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared.
Harry stepped forward and opened the door. The familiar blue-green marble greeted him. His eyes flicked to the wand hovering in the center of the room, noticed also by his parents. He shoved down the desire to take the wand and snapped it in half.
And there he was. Sitting in a chair in front of his side of the Dragon's Mirror. Waiting for their arrival.
Harry felt his anger rising, and before anyone else could say anything, he spoke first. "You knew! You knew that I would face Voldemort! But did you know he'd force Hermione in that position? That he would take us hostage? Almost kill us?"
The Sage sat patiently, letting Harry shout out everything that had been building up. Once Harry finished, he finally moved, stepping his fingers before his mask with his elbows on both knees. "Did I know? Of course not! No one can ever absolutely know anything until it has occurred! But I had it calculated, yes. I came to the conclusion that he would use you, perhaps your friends as well, to try and accomplish his goal. As for killing you, come now, Harry. He sought to kill you when you were but one years of age. Of course he would seek to kill you if he could! But not before he could use you!" The Sage didn't raise his voice, but it was firm. Resolute. It was a certainty unlike anything else.
"Then why? Why didn't you give us more of a warning? Why didn't you do more?" Harry demanded, but he already knew the answer. Already could piece together the Sage's answer.
"You don't think I did? You really think I didn't interfere? More, perhaps, than I should have?" The Sage asked. "Amaranth was going to wait a few years before meeting with you, so I had Summer's Breeze before the Storm convince her to do it this year. I then had the qilin meet you, offer guidance. Harry, I may not be able to interfere as directly as you would like, but I will do whatever I can to ensure that you, your friends, your family, all have the best chance at survival. But all of that does not invalidate your anger. Your emotions right now." The Sage's voice grew more gentle. "You have just gone through an experience that I would rather have no happened at all. But it did, and it would have regardless. So I gave you the means by which to have chance at fighting back."
"But why? Why does he want me dead?" Harry asked, and his voice threatened to break. "What is so horrid to him in the prophecy that he would do all this?"
Silence fell for a long moment as the Sage stared at him. Harry still couldn't see his eyes, or any of his face of course, but he could feel them piercing him in the same manner that Dumbledore seemed to. Finally, the man spoke again, and his voice was soft, gentle, yet firm. "The one capable of vanquishing the Dark Lord approaches! Born to those who have thrice defied him! Born as the seventh month dies! The Dark Lord's desire for secrets long forgotten will ensure the boy's own power. For the Dark Lord's greed will be balanced by rebounded knowledge. And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."
Harry could only stare in silence. "So, I will have to fight him, won't I?"
"Have to?" The Sage asked, incredulous. "Perhaps! But if you fought against Tom Riddle, it would not be due to what some prophecy says."
"But the prophecy says…" Harry started, but it was Dumbledore that cut across him.
"That you will have knowledge because of Tom Riddle's greed." The old wizard said. "The only reason you would have to fight him is by your own choice, Harry."
Harry frowned, looking between Professor Dumbledore and the Sage. "But how is that any different?"
"How is it…Harry, it's all the difference in the world! You're completely free to live your life apart from the prophecy." Dumbledore exclaimed, smiling widely.
"Your choice is what matters. The question is, what will you do in knowing this?" The Sage asked.
Harry blinked at them. He looked from one to the other and turned to look at his parents. His friends. Hermione, asleep in the hospital wing. He turned back to them. "That if he continues to come for me, my friends, my family, I will be ready for him."
Dumbledore beamed. The Sage sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. If anything, the Sage looked triumphant. Dumbledore nodding, still smiling.
James placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Well said, son."
Lily rubbed his other shoulder. She was smiling, though it was slightly sad and tears were in her eyes.
The Sage nodded to them both. "If I could promise Harry a normal life, I would. I've done what I could to ensure he at least got a good childhood. From here on out, there are no guarantees. Events have been put in motion. The die have been cast. It's time to see where the chips will fall."
"How often will we be able to speak with you, going forward. I mean, this is only the second time you've been able to talk with Harry, isn't it?" James asked.
"Difficult to say. Though as Tom Riddle regains his strength and power, I will be able to more freely involve myself in things, indirectly. Meaning I should be able to communicate more frequently, even if it's through the pendant Harry wears. More importantly, the real question lies with Summer's Breeze. You've been awfully quiet. I'd have thought you'd be eager to return home." The Sage addressed the qilin.
They all looked at her. She was sitting towards the back, looking down at her front claws. She looked up, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and looked back down. She took a deep breath. "I would like permission to extend my fieldwork."
The Sage leaned forward. "Got a taste of direct involvement, have you? Tell me, Breeze, why should I let you?"
A multitude of emotions flashed across her eyes. "I've made a deal with them, to aid them in their pursuits."
The Sage waved her off. "That can always be arranged. You don't need to be physically present with them to carry any of that out. We have plenty of methods that will get the results to them."
She opened and closed her mouth before firmly stating, "They are my friends! I want to see their mission through! I want to be there, chronicling their every step. I want to witness their triumph and victories. I want to help them ensure that future is what happens!"
The Sage continued to just stare her. Then he nodded and chuckled. "Then do so. Bear witness to their deeds. And return with a good tale to tell."
Summer's Breeze dipped her head in a bow of respect.
Lily cleared her throat. "And what of the others like you? Do we need to fear other interference?"
Her question gave the Sage pause. "Ah, so you've been doing your homework. Well done, Lily Potter. But no. At this time, there is no fear of other interference." He glanced to the side and then back. "Once again, we've reached the limits of our connection. Dumbledore, I fear that the Mirror will not reopen until towards the beginning of the next school year."
The old headmaster dipped his head. "I shall expect our next meeting till then."
The Mirror rippled and became just an ordinary mirror once more, showing only their reflections.
Dumbledore conjured chairs for them all, and asked Harry to recount everything he could remember from what happened. Afterwords, he escorted the students back to the hospital wing, insisting Harry remain there for the night at least, and he escorted the Grangers and Potter up to his office where they talked for a long time. Lily, James, Emma, and David stopped by on their way home, promising to see them at the true end of the term in a couple weeks.
Hermione made a full recovery by the day after next, which she was glad for. She was quiet after Harry had filled her in on what happened between him and Tom Riddle, and she went even more quiet after hearing the prophecy and what the Sage had said.
In the final Quidditch match of the season, Harry didn't fully have his heart in the game, choosing to catch the snitch the moment Gryffindor was forty points ahead, which put them in the lead for the year, and winning them the Quidditch Cup.
At the end of year feast, Professor Dumbledore gave him and Hermione great praise and accolades over their ordeal, gifting some total House points to Gryffindor and securing the House Cup for them. Harry and Hermione had done their best to avoid the other students, as word had spread around the school of Quirrel's treachery and attempted thievery. Their interest grew even stronger when it was slipped that Quirrel had been working for Voldemort.
Harry was a mix of exhausted, proud, happy, and anxious. All he wanted was for the start of the holidays. He had more training to do, and from the looks Hermione kept giving him, he would have a good partner to train with.
End of Book 1
AN: And here we reach the end of year 1! But please stay tuned: we still have two interlude chapters after this. They will be shorter, but will help set things up for year 2. Speaking of! Book 2 will be posted here as a continuation of The Dragon's Mirror, and I hope you all will continue onwards with me. As the Sage has said, events havd been set in motion. There may be a brief pause after the second interlude is posted before Book 2 officially begins.