Meant to be

by vedakshu2006

Harry's abuse by the Dursleys unlocks new powers. He meets Ginny before his first year and they face challenges together. Harry is powerful, intelligent, and resourceful, using his abilities to protect himself and Ginny. Together, they face challenges and grow stronger. A romantic and adventurous tale that explores the depth of their relationship. Hinny Forever ! No Bashing.

81. Chapter 81 - Through the Trapdoor

Disclaimer: I only own the plot , if any text from original source is used then they would belong to one and only J.K. Rowling. Hope You Like it.

Harry opened his eyes in the dreamland, and Ginny was waiting for him, her eyes sparkling with concern. "Did everything go alright with Norberta?" she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

"Yes, everything went fine," Harry replied, trying to reassure her. But Ginny was not convinced. She had a way of knowing when Harry was worried or upset, and she could see the concern etched on his face.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You're worried about something, aren't you?" Harry knew that he couldn't hide anything from Ginny. She had a way of seeing right through him, and even if he tried to lie, she would catch him sooner or later.

He still remembered the Howler she had sent him last time he had lied to her, telling her that he was sleeping well when in reality he was lying awake all night. So, Harry took a deep breath and told her everything - about the incident in the forest, the silver blood, the hooded figure, and the talk with Firenze.

Ginny listened intently, her eyes growing wider with concern as Harry spoke. When he finished, she was silent for a moment, her face thoughtful. Then, she spoke, her voice low and serious.

Ginny's eyes widened in alarm as she pieced together the events Harry had described. "So, it's Voldemort?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her brow furrowed in concern, and her eyes sparkled with a mixture of fear and determination.

Harry hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "I'm not sure," he said finally, "but my scar has been hurting for a while this week. And it's the first time it's happened like this." Ginny's face was thoughtful, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She seemed to be weighing the possibilities, trying to make sense of the strange occurrences.

"What does it mean?" Harry asked, feeling a sense of unease. Ginny shook her head. "We need to think about this properly," she said. "But one thing is for sure - you can't just sit back and do nothing." Her voice was firm, and her eyes sparkled with determination.

"I know," Harry said, determination in his voice. "I have to rescue the Stone." Ginny's eyes flashed with alarm. "Don't you dare do this on your own," she said, her voice firm. Her hands were on her hips, and her eyes seemed to bore into Harry's soul.

Harry smiled wryly. "I wasn't planning on it," he said. Ginny's expression softened slightly. "Good," she said. "You need to tell Professor Dumbledore about this. He's the only one who can help you." Her voice was filled with conviction, and her eyes sparkled with trust.

Harry nodded, knowing that Ginny was right. But Ginny wasn't finished yet. "And if you go through that Trapdoor on your own to save the Philosopher's Stone," she said, her eyes sparkling with warning, "I will never kiss you again." Harry's eyes widened in surprise, but Ginny just looked at him seriously. Her face was stern, and her eyes seemed to bore into Harry's soul.

Harry woke up on June 10, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. Classes were now over, and exams were done. He had been looking forward to this moment for weeks, and he was excited to finally have some free time. As he got dressed and made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, he couldn't help but think about the incident that had happened when he followed the silver blood. He had not told his friends about it yet, mainly because Hagrid was there and he didn't want Hagrid to feel bad that he was in danger in the forest.

At breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry spotted his best friends, Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Neville, sitting at the Slytherin table. Harry joined them, and they ate breakfast together. The Great Hall was bustling with students, all chatting and laughing with each other. The long tables were laden with food, and the ceiling was enchanted to look like a bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds.

Although Harry's efforts and the support of his friends had almost united the first years, there were still a few Slytherins like Pansy, Goyle, Nott, and Bulstrode who were against this and openly taunted Draco for changing his views. Draco was visibly hurt by Goyle's comments, and Harry could tell that it was hard for him to see his former friend turn against him. Ron noticed this and quickly distracted Draco with a joke. "Hey, Draco, did you hear about the wizard who tried to turn his cat into a toad?" Ron asked, grinning mischievously. Draco couldn't help but laugh, and the tension was momentarily broken.

Harry smiled, still finding it unbelievable that Draco had changed his ways. Ron was the last person to accept Draco, and now he was being really loyal. It just went to show that people could change, and that sometimes, all it took was a little bit of kindness and understanding.

Then, Harry gestured to his four best friends - Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Neville - to meet in the secret room, and they understood. They exchanged a knowing glance, and Harry could tell that they were all thinking the same thing - it was time to take action. The secret room was a hidden passageway that only they knew about. It was the perfect place for them to meet and discuss their plan without being overheard.

As they finished their breakfast, Harry nodded discreetly to his friends, and they understood that it was time to meet in the secret room. They got up from the table, trying not to draw attention to themselves, and made their way to the hidden passageway.

The secret room was a small, cozy space that was hidden behind a tapestry in one of the castle's many corridors. It was the perfect place for them to meet and discuss their plan without being overheard. As they entered the room, Harry closed the door behind them and turned to his friends.

"Okay, let's talk," Harry said, his voice low and serious. "I've got something important to tell you all." His friends looked at him curiously, wondering what he was going to say.

"You know how I followed the silver blood the other day?" Harry asked, his eyes scanning the room to make sure everyone was listening. "Well, I found out some pretty disturbing stuff."

Harry took a deep breath and began to tell his friends about the incident that had happened in the forest. "I followed the silver blood and found a dead unicorn," he said, his voice low and serious. "There was a hooded figure drinking its blood, and I felt a sharp pain in my scar." His friends listened with rapt attention, their eyes wide with concern.

Draco was the most terrified of all, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear. Ron asked tactlessly, "Are you afraid?" Harry thought to himself that yes, Ron was a loyal friend, but he really lacked tact sometimes. Draco's response was immediate. "I'm not a Gryffindor like you lot, of course, I'm afraid," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "We're talking about the Dark Lord."

Hermione, Ron, and Neville exchanged nervous glances, and Harry noticed that they were all still avoiding saying Voldemort's name. "He who must not be named," Hermione whispered, while Ron and Neville nodded in agreement. They had been taught to avoid saying the Dark Lord's name, and it was a habit that was hard to break. But Draco was different. Since his father was a Death Eater, in his household, Voldemort was always referred to as the Dark Lord.

"I'm serious, guys," Harry said, looking at his friends. "We need to talk about this. Firenze told me that the Voldemort is trying to come back to power, and we need to stop him." Draco's eyes widened in fear, and Hermione, Ron, and Neville looked at each other nervously. They knew that they were in grave danger, and they didn't know what to do.

"Try and call him Voldemort," Harry said, looking at his friends. "We can't be afraid of him. We need to face him head-on." But his friends just looked at him nervously, and Harry knew that it would take time for them to get used to saying the Voldemort's name.

Just then, Harry's mind clicked into place as he recalled a crucial piece of information. He remembered the day when Hagrid had told them about Norberta's egg. Hagrid had said that a hooded person at the Hog's Head pub had given him the egg after Hagrid had won a game and was drunk. Harry's eyes widened in alarm as he rose from his seat. "We need to go to Hagrid," he said, his voice urgent.

His friends looked at him warily, but they followed him without question. As they made their way to Hagrid's hut, Ron asked, "What's going on, Harry? Why do we need to go to Hagrid?" Ron's voice was laced with curiosity, and he used his signature word, "bloody," to emphasize his point.

Harry's expression was serious as he explained his reasoning. "Don't you think it's a bit convenient that the person who lost to Hagrid at the pub was carrying an illegal dragon egg?" he asked. "And that Hagrid, who's always wanted a dragon, just happened to win the game?" Harry's friends exchanged skeptical glances, but as they thought about it, they realized that Harry had a point.

"It clicked into place for me," Harry said, his eyes locked on his friends. "Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore's trust, but what if he's being manipulated? What if he told someone something he shouldn't have?" His friends' expressions turned serious, and they quickened their pace, eager to get to Hagrid's hut and uncover the truth.

They reached Hagrid's hut, and he welcomed them with a warm smile. "Ah, come on in, kids! 'Ave a cup o' tea an' relax. Yer exams are over, an' yeh deserve a break," Hagrid said, his eyes twinkling with kindness. His thick, bushy beard seemed to bristle with excitement as he ushered them in. Neville was almost accepting the offer, but Harry cut him off.

"Hagrid, what did yeh tell the traveler from whom yeh won the egg?" Harry asked, his eyes locked on Hagrid's. Hagrid looked at him curiously, his brow furrowed in thought. "Wha' traveler? Oh, yeh mean the one I won the egg from? 'E just lost an' gave me the egg," Hagrid replied, his deep voice rumbling through the hut.

Hagrid continued, "I told 'im that after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy." Hermione's eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed in concern. "Did the traveler seem interested in Fluffy?" she asked, her voice soft but urgent. Hagrid chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. "O' course 'e was! Not many people get ter see a Cerebrus, do they?"

Draco spoke up next, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism. "Did yeh tell the traveler somethin' about Fluffy, Hagrid?" Hagrid nodded, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Aye, I did. 'E said Fluffy must be dangerous, so I told 'im Fluffy's a softie. Jus' give 'im some music, an' 'e's all yers." Hagrid's expression turned puzzled, his brow furrowed in thought. "But wha's all this about? Yeh already know Fluffy, an' 'e's already yer friend."

But the five of them were already running towards the castle, their faces alarmed. "The Philosopher's Stone is in danger!" Harry exclaimed, and they all took off in a sprint. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the castle grounds as they rushed to save the Stone.

As they ran, Harry exclaimed, "Quirrell knows how to pass Fluffy, he'll steal the Stone now!" But the others stopped in their tracks, their faces skeptical. "No, no, it's Snape who's after the Stone," Ron said, his voice firm. Neville, Draco, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"But Quirrell is innocent," Hermione said, her eyes wide with conviction. "Look how cute he is with Professor Charity, they're a couple and they're adorable." The others nodded, still convinced that Snape was the culprit.

Harry's frustration grew. "Why don't you believe me? Snape is not after the Stone, it's Quirrell! He wants Voldemort back." But the others were unmoved.

"No, it's Snape," Ron said, his voice firm. "We have proof. He was on the third-floor corridor during Halloween..." Harry countered, "He must have been guarding the Stone." Ron continued, "He jinxed your broom, Harry." Harry replied, "It may have been a counter-jinx to save me."

Neville added, "And Fluffy bit him!" Harry said, "That must have been a mistake." Draco said, "And Snape was on the corridor whenever Dumbledore was out of the castle, like the day of Sirius's trial and the day you fell into the Forbidden Forest after Quidditch." Harry replied, "There's no proof of that, and Snape used a Patronus to save me."

But despite Harry's protests, the others were still convinced that Snape was after the Stone. Harry threw up his hands in frustration. "Fine, let's just go to Dumbledore, okay?"

Quirrell's mind wandered back to an hour ago, when he had been in Charity Burbage's office. A sly smile spread across his face as he recalled the events.

In a flashback, Quirrell was seen sitting in Charity's office, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. Charity smiled warmly at him and called out, "Quirrie, darling!" Quirrell's face lit up with a charming smile as he leaned in to kiss her softly. But as their lips touched, Quirrell's eyes gleamed with malice, and he whispered, "Imperius."

Charity's eyes glazed over, and she stood up, her movements stiff and robotic. Quirrell's smile grew wider as he realized he now had complete control over her. Voldemort's voice echoed in his mind, "Finally, we do not have to kiss this piece of filth." Quirrell's eyes gleamed with excitement as he gazed at Charity, who stood unfazed, like a puppet waiting for orders.

Quirrell's plan was unfolding perfectly. With Charity under his control, she had successfully Confunded all the professors, including McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick. Now, the only one left was Snape. Quirrell knew that Snape suspected him of being after the Stone, but he had no idea that the Dark Lord was hiding under Quirrell's turban.

Snape, being the cautious and suspicious person he was, would be expecting Quirrell to try and attack or manipulate him. But what he wasn't expecting was an attack from a friend. Just then, Professor Charity Burbage walked into Snape's office. Snape looked up at her, a hint of curiosity on his face. "Charity, what brings you here?" he asked.

"I need your help, Severus," Charity replied, her voice sweet and innocent. Snape's guard was down, and he didn't suspect a thing. That was when Charity cast the Confundus Charm on him. Snape's eyes glazed over, and he stumbled backwards, completely under Charity's control.

With Snape now out of the way, Quirrell's plan was almost foolproof. No professor would dare to enter the third-floor corridor to check on the Stone, not even Snape. And with Dumbledore on his way to the Ministry due to the fake letter, Quirrell was free to carry out his plan.

Quirrell's masterplan to use Charity had been working brilliantly. He had been dating her for two months, gaining her trust, and making it easier for the Imperius Curse to take hold. The curse worked best when cast by someone the victim trusted, and Quirrell had played his part perfectly.

Harry and his friends, Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Neville, stood outside the gargoyle, trying to get it to open by saying the names of random magical sweets. But it hadn't moved. "Maybe Dumbledore is not there," Hermione suggested, her brow furrowed in concern. Draco nodded in agreement. "Then we should tell Professor McGonagall," Harry said, and they made their way to her office.

As they walked, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the empty corridors. They finally reached McGonagall's office, and Harry called out, "Gran Minnie!" as he affectionately called her. McGonagall looked up from her desk, a hint of a smile on her face. Her eyes sparkled with warmth, but Harry noticed a hint of tension in her shoulders. "Where is Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked. McGonagall's expression turned serious.

"He is on his way to the Ministry of Magic," she replied. "He received an urgent invitation from Minister Fudge himself." Hermione spoke up, her voice filled with concern. "But it's important!" Draco added, "We know about the Philosopher's Stone." McGonagall's eyes widened in surprise, and she leaned forward in her chair. Neville chimed in, "Someone is trying to steal it!" McGonagall's expression turned stern, and she stood up, her eyes flashing with authority.

"The Stone is perfectly safe," she said firmly. "You must all go to your common rooms. I don't know how you know about the Stone, but if I find you near the third-floor corridor, I will take 50 points from each of you." Ron tried to protest, but a glare from McGonagall stopped him. The five friends left McGonagall's office, looking at each other uncertainly. Harry was thinking that something was wrong. Gran Minnie usually didn't act sternly with him when they weren't in class. They all made their way to the secret room to discuss what to do next.

The five friends gathered in the secret room, their faces filled with concern. Harry spoke up, "She was Confunded." He was about to say that Quirrell must have Confunded her, but he hesitated, knowing that the others wouldn't believe him. They were still convinced that Snape was after the Stone, and they would likely say that Snape must have Confunded Quirrell.

Draco noticed the slip of tongue, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he watched Harry with a keen eye, his expression unreadable. The others looked worried, their faces pale with concern. Harry continued, "It's today. Whoever is trying to steal the Stone will do it today." His voice was filled with urgency, and the others leaned in, their eyes locked on his.

"He's Confunded all the professors and sent Dumbledore to the Ministry," Harry explained. "The Stone is most unguarded today, and the person will steal it and bring back...Voldemort." The others flinched at the name, their faces filled with fear.

Harry took a deep breath and continued, "We already know that many professors have contributed to protect the Stone. That includes Professor Snape..." The others looked at him skeptically, their eyes filled with doubt. Harry's voice remained steady as he continued, "...McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Quirrell..." Harry's voice faltered for a moment as he said Quirrell's name, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Ron looked at Harry in confusion. "What does he mean?" he asked, turning to the others. "Why is Harry saying that?" Neville's eyes widened in alarm. "Harry, but you can't..." he trailed off, his voice filled with worry. Hermione's face was pale with concern. "No, Harry, you can't do that," she said. "You'll be expelled. Didn't you hear what McGonagall said? We're not supposed to be found near the third-floor corridor again."

Harry's face darkened with determination. "So what?" he said, his voice rising in anger. "I don't care about expulsion." He took a step forward, his eyes blazing with intensity. "What if Voldemort rises back? Will he care that I broke the rules or not before killing me?"

Harry's voice grew louder, his words tumbling out in a passionate rush. "Voldemort wants to kill me, and he won't stop. He'll make Hogwarts a school of dark arts, and I'll never give in to the dark arts." His friends watched him, their faces filled with concern and fear.

Harry continued, his voice filled with desperation. "If I don't try to prevent it, what will happen? Yes, I'll be safe at the Dursleys' for a while, but sooner or later, Voldemort will find me and kill me - a little late death." He glared at his friends, his eyes daring them to disagree. "So, ultimately, there's no option. Voldemort won't stop at nothing; he'll kill so many people, just like he killed my parents."

Harry's face set in determination. "I'll go to the third-floor corridor under the invisibility cloak," he said. Ron's eyes widened in concern. "Will it cover all of us?" he asked. Harry looked at Ron, his expression puzzled. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Neville's face darkened, his eyes flashing with determination. "What do you think, Harry? That we'll all just let you go alone there to face the danger?" His voice was low and intense. "You know who was responsible for my parents' current state, where they can't even remember I'm their son." The others except Harry looked at him in shock, unaware of this part of Neville's past.

Neville's eyes seemed to cloud over, memories of the past flooding back. "The Lestranges tortured my parents until they were driven insane," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They wanted some information, but my parents didn't give in." Neville's face set in a determined expression. "Don't think that we'll all just let you go alone, Harry. Isn't that right, Ron, Hermione, and...Draco?" he asked, his eyes glinting with challenge.

Ron and Hermione nodded in unison. "Of course, we'll come with you, Harry," they said. Draco's expression was unreadable, but he nodded slightly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Ron's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Draco. "Aren't you coming?" he asked, his tone laced with skepticism. Draco nodded, but his expression remained guarded. Ron's questioning look prompted Draco to elaborate. "I'm afraid, okay?" he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm no Gryffindor, I'm not brave enough. I'm just...not ready for this." Draco's eyes dropped, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked vulnerable, his usual confident demeanor cracked.

But Ron's anger got the better of him. His face reddened, and his words tumbled out in a tactless rush. "So, Draco plans to join You-Know-Who, or shall I say, Draco's Dark Lord master of Lucius Malfoy's, isn't he?" Ron's words cut deep, and the atmosphere in the room grew tense. The air seemed to vibrate with unspoken accusations and hurt feelings.

Hermione's shocked look broke Draco's heart. He felt a pang of hurt and betrayal, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I'm not going to join the Dark Lord!" he protested, his voice shaking with emotion. "I'm not that coward! I'm just...not brave enough to face him, not yet." Draco's words hung in the air, a desperate plea for understanding and trust. His eyes locked onto Hermione's, searching for a glimmer of understanding, but her expression remained frozen in shock and disappointment.

The tension in the room was palpable. Harry's voice cut through the intensity, refocusing the group's attention. "We have to focus on Voldemort," he said firmly. "If you're coming with me, then there's no time to waste." Harry's eyes swept over his friends, his expression filled with gratitude. He knew that each of them was putting themselves in harm's way by accompanying him.

Draco's thoughts were a jumble of emotions. He wanted to go with his friends, to prove himself, but fear held him back. He couldn't help it; he wasn't a Gryffindor like the others. His upbringing had been different, shaped by the Malfoy family's dark values. With great difficulty, he had opposed those views, but it was a constant battle. His family was not supportive like the others; they were a weight that dragged him down.

Draco's eyes met Harry's, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Harry's expression was understanding, but also resolute. Draco knew that Harry wouldn't back down, and he admired that about him. But Draco's own doubts and fears still lingered, threatening to overwhelm him.

The tension in the room was still palpable, but Harry knew just what to do to diffuse it. "Ron, can you go to the dormitory and bring my invisibility cloak?" he asked, his voice calm and steady. Ron nodded and headed off, grateful for the distraction. Harry turned to Neville and Hermione. "Can you two go to the staff room and check if the other professors are also Confunded like McGonagall?" he asked. "I'm sure they are, but we should check. Just be careful, though - Confunded people can be dangerous."

Neville's eyes widened with concern. "Isn't there any way to break the spell?" he asked. Harry's expression turned grim. "The counterspell is difficult, and we don't know how to do it," he admitted. "There is another way, but it's a very personal, emotional thing - something attached to their heart. But we can't know what it is, so currently, we're hopeless." Draco's eyes flickered with interest, but he said nothing.

Harry glanced at Draco, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Draco and I will go and check if any professor is patrolling outside the third-floor corridor," he said. "We'll meet back in the secret room within half an hour." With that, the group dispersed, leaving Harry and Draco alone. The air was thick with unspoken tension as they stood there, their eyes locked in a silent understanding.

Draco's eyes dropped, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm not brave enough." Harry's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. "You are brave, Draco. Very brave," he said. "To oppose your whole upbringing, to go against your family's values...that takes courage." Draco looked up, his eyes searching Harry's face. Harry's words were like a balm to his soul, soothing his doubts and fears.

Draco felt a lump form in his throat as he realized that Harry had always believed in him. He was the first person to accept that Draco had changed, that he was no longer the arrogant, entitled boy he once was. Draco couldn't help but feel that he had let Harry down by showing weakness. He took a deep breath, his voice firm. "I'll come with you, Harry. Through the trapdoor. I'll help you stop...You-Know-Who from getting the Stone."

Draco's eyes clouded over, his thoughts turning to his younger brother, Scorpius. "I just want to write a letter to Scorpius," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "He's the reason I've changed, Harry. He's my motivation. I want to tell him how grateful I am, and what I'm going to do today. If something happens to me...I want Scorpius to know what happened. That I tried to face the Dark Lord, at least." Harry nodded, his expression understanding. "Okay, just go to the Slytherin dorm and meet back here in half an hour. I'll go to the third-floor corridor to check alone." With that, they dispersed, each lost in their own thoughts.

As Ron made his way back to the secret room with Harry's invisibility cloak, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he had been too harsh on Draco. Ron felt a pang of guilt, knowing that Draco didn't have a supportive family like he did. He vowed to apologize to Draco as soon as he saw him.

Meanwhile, Hermione and Neville were checking the staff room, and their worst fears were confirmed. All the teachers were Confunded, their eyes glassy and unresponsive. The Stone was in grave danger. Since Hermione and Neville were still convinced that Snape was after the Stone, they didn't bother to check his office to see if he was there or not. If they had, they would have realized that Snape was also Confunded, just like the others, and that Quirrell was the one after the Stone, just as Harry had said.

Hermione and Neville exchanged worried glances. They knew they had to act fast to protect the Stone. Little did they know that their misunderstanding about Snape's intentions would lead to a series of events that would put them all in greater danger.

Draco sat at a desk in the dimly lit Slytherin common room, quill in hand, as he wrote a heartfelt letter to his younger brother, Scorpius. "Dear Scorpius," he wrote, "I just wanted to thank you again for changing my ways. You've been my rock, my motivation to do what's right. And now, I'm going to face the Dark Lord with Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville to protect the Stone. I know it's a risk, but I have to try." He finished the letter, folded it, and made his way to the owlery.

In the owlery, Draco found his black owl, Taurus, perched on a wooden beam. He attached the letter to Taurus's leg and watched as the owl took flight, soaring out of the castle and into the night sky, bound for Malfoy Manor. Just as Taurus disappeared into the darkness, an idea struck Draco. He remembered the fake letter that had been sent to the Ministry, the one that had led to Dumbledore's absence from Hogwarts. Draco's eyes lit up with determination as he quickly wrote another letter, this one addressed to Dumbledore.

"Dear Professor Dumbledore," Draco wrote, "I'm writing to tell you that someone is after the Stone. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and I are going to try and stop them. We're going to sneak through the third-floor corridor to get to the Stone. Please, sir, you have to come back to Hogwarts. We need your help." Draco finished the letter and looked around for an owl to send it with. That's when he spotted Hedwig, Harry's beautiful white owl, perched on a nearby beam. To Draco's surprise, Hedwig recognised him as Harry's friend and allowed him to attach the letter to her leg. With a soft hoot, Hedwig took flight, carrying Draco's letter to Dumbledore. Draco watched her go, his heart filled with hope. "Please, Dumbledore, get the letter before it's too late," he whispered to himself.

As Draco made his way back to the secret room to meet Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville, he was already running late. The half hour was over, and he knew he had to hurry. But as he turned a corner, he stopped abruptly, his eyes fixed on a surprising sight. Snape was sitting in his office, his eyes fixed on some unknown point in space. Draco's mind reeled in confusion. How could Snape be there? He was supposed to be after the Stone, wasn't he?

But as Draco looked at Snape from a distance, he saw the same glassy look that had been on McGonagall's face. It meant that Snape was also Confunded. Draco's eyes widened in shock as he realized that Harry had been right all along. Snape was not after the Stone. A wave of guilt washed over Draco as he thought about all the times he had doubted Harry's words. He felt even more guilty because Harry had always believed in him, and his words had given Draco the courage to come with them to the third-floor corridor to save the Stone.

Draco's instincts told him to warn Snape, to tell him what was happening. He clearly forgot Harry's advice to be careful around Confunded people. Without thinking, Draco took a step forward, his hand reaching out to tap on Snape's door. "Professor Snape," he said, his voice low and cautious. But as he looked into Snape's eyes, he saw something there that made his blood run cold.

Snape's eyes, usually cold and piercing, were even more frigid than usual, his face a mask of Confunded emptiness. Draco remembered Harry's advice to be careful around Confunded people, but it was too late now. Snape's hands reached out to grab Draco, his movements stiff and mechanical. Thankfully, Snape's wand was not in his hand, but Draco knew he had to act fast. The room seemed to be closing in around him, the shadows cast by the flickering candles making Snape's face look even more menacing.

Draco moved backward, his eyes scanning the room frantically for something, anything, to help him. He remembered Harry's second advice - to find something emotionally connected to Snape's heart to break the Confundus Charm. His eyes landed on a stack of papers on Snape's desk, labeled "Potter-Snape Amnesia Potion." Draco's heart skipped a beat as he grabbed the papers, hoping against hope that this would work. He had seen Harry and Snape work on this potion together, and he knew it was a complex and difficult spell.

"Professor Snape, look at this!" Draco exclaimed, holding out the papers. Snape's empty eyes fixed on the papers, but there was no reaction, no spark of recognition. Draco's heart sank. It wasn't working. The potion wasn't something emotionally connected to Snape's heart, and it wasn't going to break the Confundus Charm. Draco stumbled backward, his mind racing for a solution. What could he do now? Snape was still approaching him, his movements slow and mechanical, but unstoppable.

Draco's eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that could help him. He knew he had to think fast, or Snape would grab him and...and...Draco didn't know what would happen then. He was trapped, with no way out. Snape's hands were reaching out for him, his fingers closing around empty air. Draco knew he had to move, and fast. But where could he go? The door was locked, and Snape was blocking his way. Draco was running out of options, and time was running out.

Ron's face was red with anger and frustration as he paced back and forth in the secret room. He had been planning to apologize to Draco for his harsh words earlier, but Draco was nowhere to be found. "Maybe I was right," Ron muttered to himself. "Maybe Draco isn't coming after all."

Harry tried to calm Ron down. "He just went to write a letter to Scorpius," he explained. But Ron was having none of it. "Did he see us writing any letters to our loved ones?" Ron demanded. "No, we didn't. It's all fake, Harry. Draco's not going to come."

Hermione's eyes widened with concern. "Maybe something bad happened to him," she suggested. "Maybe some Confunded professor attacked him." Ron's anger faltered, replaced by a growing sense of unease. Harry and Neville looked pale, their faces set with determination.

Neville spoke up, his voice firm. "We don't have time to wait and see if Draco shows up," he said. "The Stone is in danger, and we have to save it. If we don't, You-Know-Who will be back." Ron knew Neville was right. They couldn't afford to wait.

Hermione quickly scribbled a note and attached it to the secret room door. "If Draco comes, he'll know we've already left," she explained. Ron's eyes lingered on the note, his heart heavy with worry. He just hoped Draco was alright. Ron didn't want his last words to Draco to be harsh and unkind, without a chance to apologize.

The four friends, wrapped in the invisibility cloak, made their way to the third-floor corridor. They moved stealthily, trying not to make a sound as they approached the area where Professor Charity was patrolling. Harry had already warned them about her presence, but this time he noticed something different about her expression. Her eyes didn't have the same glassy look that McGonagall's had, which meant she wasn't Confunded.

But that didn't make sense, Harry thought. All the professors were supposed to be Confunded, weren't they? Unless...unless Quirrell had done something to manipulate Charity, something dark and sinister. Harry's eyes narrowed as he realized the truth. Quirrell was using Charity, manipulating her for his own purposes. The way Quirrell had been acting around Charity, all lovey-dovey and charming, it was all an act.

The four friends discreetly entered the corridor, trying not to draw attention to themselves. They reached the room where Fluffy, the three-headed dog, was being kept. Harry removed the invisibility cloak and turned to his friends, his eyes serious. "One last time, are you sure you want to come with me?" he asked. Ron, Hermione, and Neville nodded in unison. Harry's expression turned grim. "And do you still think Quirrell is not after the Stone?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. "Because I'm telling you, he is. We just saw Professor Charity out there, and she's not Confunded. Quirrell wants Voldemort back, not Snape."

Hermione's eyes widened as the truth dawned on her. Ron and Neville looked uncertain, still not convinced. "Are you sure, Harry?" Ron asked, his voice hesitant. Harry's expression was unyielding. "I'm positive, Ron. Quirrell is our enemy, and we need to stop him."

As they entered the room, Harry's eyes immediately landed on Fluffy, the three-headed dog, who was sleeping peacefully. A large harp in the corner of the room was playing music automatically, its soothing melody lulling Fluffy into a deep slumber. Harry knew that this was Fluffy's weak point, and whoever was after the Stone had likely used this to their advantage.

Harry's eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, but his mind was preoccupied with Fluffy's well-being. He was worried that Quirrell might have hurt Fluffy, and he couldn't just breathe until he was sure Fluffy was alright. Despite the urgency of their mission, Harry made his way to Fluffy and tried to wake him up. "Hey, Fluffy, it's me, Harry," he said softly, trying to rouse the dog from his slumber.

Hermione, meanwhile, had made her way to the harp and stopped its music. The sudden silence seemed to startle Fluffy, and he woke up with a jolt. At first, he looked afraid, his eyes darting wildly around the room. But as he saw Harry and his friends, his expression relaxed, and he wagged his tails. Harry smiled and petted Fluffy, trying to reassure him.

Since Harry had a unique way of communicating with animals, he asked Fluffy a question, using their special bond. "Who was here, Fluffy?" Harry asked, his voice soft. Fluffy's response was immediate, and Harry's eyes widened as he understood. "Quirrell," Harry said, turning to his friends. "Fluffy said Quirrell was here."

Ron's eyes widened, and he looked at Neville. "I think we were wrong about Snape," Ron said, his voice filled with conviction. Neville shook his head. "There are ways to change your appearance, Harry. Snape must have used one of them."

As Snape approached Draco, his eyes seemed to bore into Draco's very soul. Draco stumbled backward, his hands grasping for something, anything, to defend himself. In his panic, he knocked over a frame on Snape's desk, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering glass filled the air, and Snape's eyes landed on the frame.

The frame had held a photo of Snape and a young woman with long, red hair and a bright smile. Draco's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the photo, but he couldn't quite place the woman. She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on who she was. What Draco didn't know was that the woman in the photo was none other than Lily Evans Potter, Harry's mother. The photo had been taken when Snape and Lily were just teenagers, and it was a reminder of a time when Snape's life had been very different. The frame was given to him by Harry last Christmas.

As Snape gazed at the photo, something seemed to shift inside him. His eyes, which had been empty and unseeing just moments before, now seemed to hold a glimmer of recognition. The Confundus Charm that had been cast over him seemed to be breaking, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Snape's face, which had been frozen in a mask of emptiness, now seemed to be coming back to life.

For a moment, Snape just stared at the photo, his eyes drinking in the sight of Lily's smiling face. Then, slowly, he looked up at Draco, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the young Slytherin student. Draco held his breath, wondering what Snape would do next. But to his surprise, Snape simply nodded, his eyes clearing as the last remnants of the Confundus Charm wore off.

But Draco's relief was short-lived. As Snape's eyes cleared, Draco remembered his friends, who must have already left to save the Stone. "No!" Draco exclaimed, his heart racing with worry. "I have to go!"

As Draco told Snape that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville must have already left to save the Stone, Snape's expression turned dark. "Foolish children," Snape muttered, his voice low and menacing. But despite his anger, it seemed that Snape had always expected something like this to happen. He quickly composed himself, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Draco. "We have no time to waste," Snape said, his voice crisp and urgent. "We must leave at once."

But before they could leave, Draco mentioned that he had written a letter to Dumbledore, asking him to come back. Snape's expression turned scathing. "You should have done that at the first place, instead of trying to save the Stone yourself," Snape scolded, his voice dripping with disdain. Draco looked sheepish, but Snape didn't give him time to respond. "Come," Snape said, turning to leave. "We must go."

But as they turned to leave, Draco dropped a bombshell. "Professor Snape, I have to tell you something," Draco said, his voice low and serious. "Quirrell is after the Stone, but not for immortality. He wants to bring the Dark Lord back." Snape's expression turned horrified, his eyes widening in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen in place, his face pale and drawn. Then, he seemed to compose himself, his eyes narrowing as he turned to Draco. "We must go," Snape said, his voice low and urgent. "Now."

Ginny sat in her room at the Burrow, her eyes fixed on the wall as her mind wandered to the conversation she had with Harry the night before in their dreamland. She couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had been growing inside her since then. Harry had been determined to save the Stone himself, but Ginny had warned him to go to Dumbledore instead. What if something went wrong? What if Harry went to the Stone alone? What if...no, she couldn't even bear to think about it.

Ginny's eyes began to well up with tears as she thought about the possibility of losing Harry. She had been so worried about him, and now she felt like she was going to lose him. She remembered the way Harry had smiled at her in their dreamland, the way his eyes had sparkled with determination. She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing that smile again, of never being able to kiss him again.

"If only I had been stronger, if only I had warned him more strongly," Ginny thought to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's going to go to the trapdoor, I just know it. And what if something happens to him? What if he doesn't come back?" Ginny's eyes overflowed with tears as she thought about the possibility of losing Harry. She felt helpless, trapped in her room at the Burrow while Harry was out there, risking his life to save the Stone.

As they prepared to leave the room, Harry's voice was filled with determination. "We have to go through the Trapdoor now," he said, his eyes locked on the door. Harry petted Fluffy one last time, then turned to his friends. Hermione opened the door, and they were met with an inky blackness that seemed to stretch on forever. "Miles of darkness," Ron whispered, his voice barely audible.

Harry took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the darkness. "I'll go first," he said, his voice firm. "If something happens to me, go and warn Professor Snape. If any professor is not Confunded, it can only be him." Neville looked skeptical, but Hermione and Ron nodded, their faces set with worry.

With a final glance at his friends, Harry jumped into the darkness. He felt himself falling, the air rushing past him with a deafening roar. The darkness seemed to stretch on forever, and Harry's stomach lurched with fear. But just when he thought he was going to crash to the ground, he landed with a soft thud on a patch of soft, spongy material.

"It's a soft landing!" Harry shouted up to his friends, his voice echoing off the walls. One by one, Hermione, Ron, and Neville jumped into the darkness, each of them landing safely on the soft material.

As they caught their breath after the jump, Ron joked, "Thank God it was a soft landing! I don't think I could have handled a face-plant into the stone floor." The others chuckled, but their laughter was short-lived. As they looked around, they realized that everything was dark and foreboding. They were in a chamber of some sort, but it was impossible to see any details.

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. "Why would the landing be soft, anyway?" she wondered aloud. "It's not like the castle is designed to be...cushy." Just then, Neville, who was an expert in Herbology, spoke up. "Guys, I think I know why the landing was soft," he said, his voice low and serious.

As they turned to look at Neville, they realized that they were standing on a strange, pulsing plant. It was the Devil's Snare, a notorious plant known for its deadly grip. The plant's tendrils were slowly wrapping around their legs, trapping them. Ron and Hermione panicked, their voices rising in alarm. "Oh no, oh no, oh no!" Ron exclaimed, trying to shake off the plant's grip.

Hermione was equally frantic. "We have to get out of here, now!" she cried, tugging at the plant's tendrils. But Harry and Neville were thinking more clearly. They knew that panicking would only make things worse. "We need to stay calm," Harry said, his voice steady. "We can't let the plant sense our fear." Neville nodded in agreement. "We need to think of a way to get out of here without triggering the plant's defenses."

The Devil's Snare was a notorious plant known for its deadly grip. Its tendrils were long and slimy, wrapping around its victims like a vice. The plant's leaves were a deep, blood-red color, and they seemed to absorb the light around them, making the air feel thick and heavy. Neville and Harry were recalling the lesson they had learned from Professor Sprout about the Devil's Snare. They remembered that the plant was almost impossible to kill, and that its grip was almost impossible to escape.

But Ron and Hermione were beyond reason. They were panicking, trying to shake off the plant's tendrils. "We're going to die!" Ron exclaimed, his voice rising in terror. Hermione was equally frantic. "We have to get out of here!" she cried, tugging at the plant's tendrils. But Neville was calm, his mind racing back to the lesson they had learned. He recalled a four-line poem that Professor Sprout had taught them, a poem that described the Devil's Snare and its weakness:

"Devil's Snare, a plant so sly,

Lures victims in with a treacherous sigh.

But light, oh light, is its greatest fear,

And with enough light, it will disappear."

Neville's eyes lit up as he remembered the poem. "Light!" he exclaimed. "We need light!" Instantly, all four of them picked out their wands and shouted "Lumos!" But the light that emanated from their wands was not enough. They needed more light, and fast. "Lumos Maxima!" Harry shouted, but none of them had ever done the spell before, and they weren't sure if they could do it.

Just then, Harry had an idea. "Let's lit fire!" he exclaimed. "It will give us enough light!" But Hermione was in a panic, and she wasn't thinking clearly. "But there's no wood!" she exclaimed. Ron's face turned red with frustration. "NO WOOD?" he shouted. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

Hermione looked sheepish, her eyes dropping to the ground as she realized her mistake. "I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice barely audible. Ron's expression softened, and he put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Hermione," he said. "We're all a bit frazzled."

But Neville was already taking action. He carefully raised his wand and cast a small, controlled flame. The fire danced on the end of his wand, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Neville carefully directed the flame at the Devil's Snare, making sure not to touch his friends with the fire. The plant let out a loud hiss as the flames engulfed it.

As the fire burned, the Devil's Snare seemed to vanish before their eyes. Its tendrils released their grip on the four friends, and the plant shrunk back into a dark corner of the room. The air seemed to clear, and the four friends breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Well done, Neville," Harry said, grinning. "You saved us."

Neville smiled to himself, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. He thought back to all the times Harry had told him that he was an equal member of their group, just as important as Harry, Hermione, Ron, and even Draco. But Neville had always felt like he was on the outside looking in. Hermione and Harry were brilliant in their studies, and Harry was also an amazing Quidditch player and a natural leader. Ron was loyal and strategic, always thinking several steps ahead. And Draco, despite his rough exterior, had shown bravery and a willingness to challenge his family's dark past.

Neville, on the other hand, had always felt like he was just along for the ride. But today, he had contributed to saving the Philosopher's Stone, and he might even help prevent...Neville's mind hesitated, unable to bring himself to say the Dark Lord's name. He had heard the stories, of course, but the very thought of Voldemort sent shivers down his spine. Still, Neville felt a sense of determination rising up within him. He was a part of this group, and he was going to do everything in his power to help them succeed. "I'm not just a bystander," Neville thought to himself, a small smile playing on his lips.

As they looked around the chamber, they noticed that it was now dimly lit. The fire that Neville had made was still burning, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Neville remembered that the fire made by the Incendio spell was not easily extinguishable without magic. In their Herbology classes, Professor Sprout had demonstrated how the fire could be extinguished by the soil itself, but she had never taught them the counter spell. Instead, she had used a non-verbal spell to put out the flames.

Harry, however, seemed to know exactly what to do. He muttered a verbal counter spell, and the fire was instantly extinguished. The others stared at him in amazement. "How did you do that?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide with wonder. Harry smiled. "It's a spell I read about in a book," he said. "The incantation is 'Sbennis'." Hermione's eyes lit up with interest. "What does that mean?" she asked. Harry explained, "It's derived from the Greek word 'sbennumi', which means 'to extinguish'."

Harry was still grateful to Grandma Tucker for the fact that she had taught him so many languages and now at Hogwarts he can easily breakdown the meaning of incantation. Hermione nodded, impressed. "What book is that from?" she asked. Harry hesitated for a moment before answering. "It's from a book I found...a book of notes from a former student." He didn't mention that the book had belonged to Snape, or that Snape was the Half-Blood Prince. That was a secret he had promised to keep.

As they made their way to the door ahead, Ron illuminated their path with a powerful spell. "Lumos Duo!" he exclaimed, and a bright light burst forth from the tip of his wand. The light was even more impressive than before, and Ron managed to manipulate it so that it floated in the air, lighting their way as they walked.

Hermione couldn't help but be impressed. "Ron, that's amazing!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with admiration. Ron beamed with pride, and Hermione's face flushed with a soft pink color. For a moment, it seemed like she was blushing for a reason other than just admiration for Ron's magical prowess.

Harry noticed the exchange, and his mind began to wander. He recalled that Draco having a crush on Hermione, but it seemed like Hermione's feelings lay elsewhere. She seemed to have a soft spot for Ron, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how difficult it would be for him to choose between his two best friends if it ever came to that. But for now, he pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand.

As Draco stood before the secret room, he hesitated for a moment before deciding to reveal the base where his friends - Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville - used to discuss anything important. But to save the Stone was more important. Draco and Snape entered the room, but there was no one there. Snape's voice was low and even. "They must have left already." Draco felt a pang of guilt. He should have been a little faster. What if they...no, they had to be alive.

Just then, Draco's eyes landed on a note written by Hermione, and his heart skipped a beat. The note read: "Dear Draco, we know you would come and are brave enough, but I think you must have been stuck somewhere or maybe some Confunded professor attacked you." Draco thought to himself, "Yes, Snape indeed attacked before the spell broke." The note continued: "Whenever you come, you know where we've gone." There was a line added in Ron's handwriting: "Ron here, sorry for saying such harsh words to you, mate. I believe in you, and I know you'd come to help. Be safe."

Draco was touched by the note, especially Ron's apology. He thought to himself, "Whatever Ron said was true, the harsh words did hurt me." But Ron hadn't meant them; he had just said them in anger, and he had even apologized in the note. Draco felt a sense of gratitude towards Ron, and his resolve to help his friends grew stronger.

As Draco finished reading the note, Snape's eyes seemed to understand the emotions that were playing on Draco's face. Although Snape had never explicitly expressed his feelings to Draco, he had been secretly pleased when Draco had begun to question his family's values and the Dark Lord's ideology. Snape was happy that Draco seemed determined not to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Death Eater, and that he was not going to repeat the mistakes that Snape himself had made in his youth.

But the situation now required urgency, and Snape's expression turned serious. "We should proceed to the third-floor corridor," he said, his voice low and even. "It is likely that your friends have already encountered the first obstacle." Snape then turned to Draco and said, "However, I must offer you the option to return to the Slytherin common room. It is not safe for you to be there."

But Draco protested, his voice firm. "No, I won't leave them alone," he said. "They're my friends, and I need to help them." Snape's expression was unreadable, but he seemed to accept Draco's decision. "Very well," he said. "Let us proceed with caution."

As they opened the door, they found themselves standing at the entrance of a downwards sloping passage with stone walls. The sound of trickling water echoed through the passage, and the air was cool and damp. The passage led to a brilliantly lit chamber with a very high ceiling, full of glittering winged objects that fluttered and darted around the room.

At first, Harry thought the winged objects were just decorations, but as he looked closer, he realized that they were actually keys. "These aren't just decorations," Harry exclaimed. "They're keys!" Hermione , Neville and Ron looked at him in surprise, and then they too realized that the winged objects were indeed keys.

Just then, Hermione spotted a few broomsticks leaning against the wall. "Look!" she cried. "Broomsticks!" Ron's eyes lit up. "We have to catch the correct key to unlock the door," he said. The large, old-fashioned wooden door with a silver lock seemed to loom before them, taunting them with its inaccessibility. Harry nodded. "Let's get on our broomsticks and try to catch the keys," he said. "We have to be careful, though. There are a lot of keys, and we don't know which one is the correct one."

Neville, though no longer afraid of flying on a broomstick, still felt a sense of unease as he mounted his broom. His hands were shaking slightly as he grasped the broom handle, but he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she would rather be anywhere else. "I hate flying," she muttered, her face pale and her eyes closed. She clutched her broom handle tightly, her knuckles white with tension. But they didn't have any option. They had to catch the key.

Ron observed the keyhole on the old-fashioned wooden door and said, "The key must be an old-fashioned one, just like the door." Harry, with his exceptional flying skills, took the lead. "Alright, let's spread out and search for the key," he instructed. "Keep an eye out for any keys that look different from the others. And be careful, there are a lot of keys flying around." The others nodded and began to search.

As they flew around the room, Ron almost crashed into the wall, but managed to steer his broom away just in time. "Whoa, close call!" he exclaimed, his face flushed with excitement. Harry, meanwhile, was scanning the room intently, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched for the key. Suddenly, he spotted a key with scratched wings, hovering near the ceiling. "I think I've found it!" he shouted, pointing his broomstick at the key.

The others tried to cover up for Harry, flying in front of him to distract the other keys. "Go, Harry, go!" Ron shouted, flying in front of Harry to block the other keys. Hermione and Neville also flew in to help, trying to create a diversion to give Harry a clear shot at the key. But it was no use. The keys were too fast, and they began to swarm around Harry. "No, no, no!" Hermione cried, flying around Harry to try and shoo the keys away.

But Harry was not one to give up easily. With a brilliant display of flying skills, he managed to dodge and weave around the other keys, his eyes fixed intently on the key with scratched wings. Finally, with a triumphant cry, he reached out and grabbed the key, holding it tightly in his hand. The others cheered as they all landed safely on the ground, grinning at each other in relief.

However, the other keys didn't look pleased. They buzzed like angry bees, their metallic bodies vibrating with rage. "We have to act fast!" Harry exclaimed, passing the key to Hermione, who was nearest to the door. Hermione's hands were shaking in panic as she inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The sound of the lock clicking open was like music to their ears.

As the door creaked open, Hermione's eyes were wide with fear. "Come on, come on!" she urged, beckoning the others to enter. Ron was the first to step through the doorway, followed closely by Neville. Hermione was right behind them, still shaking with fear. Harry brought up the rear, making sure his friends had entered safely before he followed. He was always like that, too kind-hearted and noble for his own good.

As soon as Harry was through the doorway, they quickly closed the door behind him. The sound of the keys attacking the door was like a swarm of bees stinging. "We made it!" Ron exclaimed, his voice full of relief. Hermione leaned against the door, her eyes closed in exhaustion. "That was close," she whispered. The others nodded in agreement, still trying to catch their breath. They had escaped narrowly, and the keys were now stuck in the door, still buzzing angrily.

As they passed through the corridor, Ron turned to the others and said, "That must have been Flitwick's obstacle." He nodded thoughtfully. "Three down, four to go. We've still got McGonagall's, Quirrell's, Snape's, and Dumbledore's obstacles to overcome." The others nodded in agreement, their faces set with determination.

The corridor led them to a giant room that was dark and foreboding. But as soon as they all entered, the room was lit up by fire torches that lined the walls. The sudden burst of light made them blink, but as their eyes adjusted, they saw a giant wizarding chess set ahead of them. The chess pieces were enormous, with knights and bishops towering over them like giants. "Blimey," Ron breathed. "It's a life-sized chess game."

As they tried to cross the giant chessboard, they were suddenly stopped by the chess pieces. The knights, bishops, and rooks moved to block their path, their stone faces unyielding. Ron's eyes lit up with understanding. "We have to play and win in order to pass through it," he exclaimed. "It's a chess game, and we're the pawns."

Ron turned to the others with a confident grin. "No offense, but I'm better than you all at chess," he said. The others took no offense, knowing that Ron was indeed an expert chess player. Harry just hoped that it would not be like Wizard's Chess, the magical variant of the classic board game. "Please don't let it be Wizard's Chess," Harry thought to himself, remembering the brutal way the pieces attacked each other in that version of the game. Wizard's Chess was a game where the pieces were enchanted to move of their own accord when commanded by the player. When a piece was taken, it was removed by the attacking piece, often in a barbaric manner where the losing piece was smashed violently by the winning piece.

Ron thought over their next move for a while, his brow furrowed in concentration. Finally, he made a decision. "Alright, we're on the black side of the chessboard," he said. "Harry, you'll be the Bishop. Neville, you'll be the Rook. Hermione, you'll be the Queen. And I'll be the Knight." As he said this, the chess pieces corresponding to their assigned roles - one of the Bishops, one of the Rooks, one of the Knights, and the Queen - came to life and moved to the side of the chessboard, leaving their blocks empty.

The four friends exchanged nervous glances, then took their places on the chessboard. Harry stood tall as the Bishop, his eyes fixed on the opponent's side of the board. Neville stood strong as the Rook, his face set in determination. Hermione stood regally as the Queen, her eyes flashing with intelligence. And Ron stood proudly as the Knight, his eyes scanning the board for any signs of danger. They all hoped that everything would go alright, trying not to think about what would happen if they lost.

As the four friends stood on the chessboard, they were oblivious to the fact that night had already fallen outside. They were deep in the underground chamber, and the only light came from the flickering torches that lined the walls.

Meanwhile, miles away at the Burrow, Ginny was eating dinner with her parents. She was worried, but she hid her concerns well, knowing that her parents were still unaware of the events unfolding at Hogwarts. Ginny had spoken to Harry in Dreamland the night before, and she had warned him not to try to stop Quirrell alone. But she was almost certain that Harry had ignored her warning and gone through the trapdoor to save the Stone.

Ginny couldn't blame Harry for his actions. If there was a way to prevent Voldemort's return, she knew Harry would stop at nothing to achieve it. But she was worried sick about her boyfriend, and about her brother Ron, Hermione, Neville, and even Draco, who she knew would accompany Harry on his quest. "Please be careful, Harry," she whispered to herself, her eyes welling up with tears.

Back in the underground chamber, Ron's eyes were fixed intently on the chessboard. "In chess, usually the white player takes the first move," he said, his voice steady. And indeed, the opponent played the first move, a pawn sliding forward to attack. Ron gulped, thinking of the perfect move. "I'll instruct a pawn to move," he said, his eyes scanning the board.

Ron continued to instruct the black pieces, trying to avoid using his friends' pieces as much as possible. He moved a pawn here, a knight there, trying to outmaneuver the white player. But as the game wore on, the white player's moves became more aggressive. When the white player's pawn destroyed the first black pawn, barbarically smashing it to pieces, Ron's fears were confirmed. "It's exactly like Wizard's Chess," he whispered, his eyes wide with alarm.

The others exchanged nervous glances. They had been worried about this, and now their fears were coming true. The game was not just about winning or losing - it was about survival. If they lost, they would be the ones being smashed to pieces. The thought sent a shiver down their spines.

As the game continued, Ron's instructions became more precise and calculated. He instructed Neville, who was playing the role of the Rook, to move forward and attack the opponent's Bishop. Neville, with a fierce determination, charged forward and smashed the opponent's Bishop to pieces. The sound of the Bishop crashing to the ground was deafening, and the others held their breaths as they watched the game unfold.

Ron's next few moves were equally brilliant. He used himself, playing the role of the Knight, to attack the opponent's pawn. Then, he used Hermione, playing the role of the Queen, to defend against the opponent's attack. Harry, playing the role of the Bishop, was used to attack the opponent's Rook. And again, Ron used himself to defend against the opponent's next move. Ron was a brilliant chess player, but this time, it was a matter of survival. One wrong move could mean disaster.

As the game reached its critical point, Ron thought deeply about his next move. He studied the board intently, his eyes scanning every piece and every possible move. The others watched him anxiously, their hearts pounding in their chests. "What's the next move, Ron?" Harry whispered, his eyes fixed on the board. Ron didn't answer, his mind completely focused on the game. The tension was palpable as they waited for Ron's next move.

As Ron studied the board, he realized that there was only one way to win the game. He had to get taken by the opponent's piece, which would cause a check, and then Harry could attack the king, resulting in a chess mate. Ron knew he had to do it, no matter how difficult it seemed.

"I have to get taken by the opponent's piece," Ron said, his voice firm but laced with a hint of fear. The others protested, Hermione bursting into tears. "No, Ron, you can't!" she cried. Harry and Neville didn't look much better, their faces pale and worried.

Ron took a deep breath and began to speak, his words pouring out in a passionate monologue. "We have to save the Philosopher's Stone from Quirrell, and prevent...you know who...from rising again. It's for the greater good. It's necessary, and I will do it." He paused, a hint of a smile on his face. "Besides, one attack from a rock chess piece won't kill me...but it will hurt like mad!" The others looked at him, their faces etched with concern. Ron knew it would hurt, and even break some bones, but he was willing to do it to save his friends and the wizarding world.

As Ron finished his monologue, the others looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. Hating themselves for it, they had to agree that Ron's plan was the only way to win the game. Neville spoke up, his voice shaking. "There must be another way," he said, but deep down, he knew there wasn't.

Ron's face was set in a determined expression, but his eyes betrayed a hint of fear. He whispered to Harry, "If something happens to me, just tell my family that I tried to save them all." Harry's eyes welled up with tears as Ron continued, "And Harry, never hurt Ginny, or I'll come back as a ghost to haunt you." Harry's heart broke at Ron's words, and he shed a tear. Neville sobbed, and Hermione, who was already crying, buried her face in her hands.

Ron yelled out his move, and with a surge of adrenaline, he made the sacrifice. "I'm going to get taken!" he shouted, and as he moved forward, he whispered, "Check." The White Queen came forward, her stone eyes fixed on Ron.

Everyone was tensed, holding their breaths as they waited for the inevitable. Hermione's eyes were wide with fear, and Neville's face was pale. Harry's jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed on the board.

The White Queen attacked Ron, her stone arm swinging down with deadly precision. Hermione screamed loudly, her voice echoing through the chamber. Ron fell to the ground, a few dirt marks on his robes and a small cut on his forehead. Hermione and Neville were about to leave their places, but Harry stopped them. "The game is not over yet!" he shouted.

But just as all hope seemed lost, Ron's sacrifice paid off. He had missed the larger blow as the White Queen stopped just short of delivering the final blow. Harry had quickly made his move, and with a triumphant cry, he declared, "Checkmate!" The king fell to the ground, defeated, and the chamber erupted in a deafening silence.

They all quickly made their way to Ron, who was lying on the ground, unconscious. The shock of the blow had made him faint, but thankfully, he was alive. Hermione was sobbing uncontrollably, but Harry acted quickly, trying to conjure a cloth to use as a bandage. It was a second-year spell, but Harry managed to pull it off with great difficulty. Neville, meanwhile, had pulled out a water bottle from his pocket, and together, they wrapped the cloth around Ron's head, securing it with a makeshift bandage.

They gently placed Ron on one side, where Hermione and Neville had made a soft spot using their cloaks. Ron rested there, still unconscious, but stable. Harry looked at Hermione and Neville, his eyes filled with concern. "Hermione, you should stay here with Ron, or maybe Neville," he said. But Hermione and Neville exchanged a determined glance. "No, we should go with you," Hermione said firmly. "This is the fourth obstacle, and we still have three more to go - McGonagall's, Quirrell's, Snape's, and Dumbledore's." Harry nodded, understanding their reasoning.

Meanwhile, back on the third floor, Draco and Snape had reached the entrance to the corridor, only to find Professor Charity patrolling the area. Draco noticed that Charity didn't have the glassy look in her eyes, which meant she wasn't Confunded. Snape's eyes narrowed as he explained, "Quirrell must have used the Imperius Curse on her to control her." Draco's face twisted in disgust as Snape continued, "This is why Quirrell has been dating her for the past two months. The curse works better if cast by someone the victim trusts."

Draco's eyes widened in realization as he remembered spotting Snape threatening Quirrell on multiple occasions. He had foolishly thought Snape was after the Stone himself. Snape's voice brought him back to the present. "Quirrell, however, was clever. He used Charity to Confund me, and since I didn't expect her to attack me, I was left off guard." Snape's eyes seemed to glaze over as he recalled the experience. "I was Confunded before, but I've since recovered."

Draco and Snape looked ahead, and Draco knew they would have to face Charity to gain entry to the third-floor corridor. Snape wondered aloud, "I'm curious to know how Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, and Granger managed to enter undetected." Draco knew the answer, but he kept silent, not wanting to reveal that they had used Harry's Invisibility Cloak.

Snape motioned to Draco to be careful, his eyes fixed on Professor Charity, who was standing guard at the entrance to the third-floor corridor. "She's been Imperioed," Snape whispered. "Quirrell has ordered her not to let anyone enter. Unfortunately, I have to duel her." Draco's eyes widened in alarm as he realized the gravity of the situation.

The duel began, with Charity unleashing a barrage of deadly spells. "Reducto!" she shouted, sending a blast of magical energy hurtling towards Snape. Snape deflected the spell with a swift flick of his wand, countering with a gentle "Desiccation" spell that sent a stream of dry air towards Charity, momentarily blinding her.

Charity retaliated with a vicious "Bombarda" curse, but Snape was too quick, dodging the curse with ease and countering with a "Protego" spell that sent the curse rebounding back towards Charity. Snape swiftly followed up with a "Lasso" spell, attempting to bind Charity and restrict her movements. However, Charity was too powerful, and she broke free from the spell with a mighty curse.

Throughout the duel, Snape was acutely aware of Draco's presence, and he made sure to keep a protective eye on him. He couldn't use any lethal spells, knowing that Charity was not in control of her actions. The duel raged on, with Snape using every ounce of skill and cunning to outmaneuver Charity. Draco watched in awe, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never seen Snape in action before, and he was impressed despite himself.

Snape's eyes flashed with concern as he dodged Charity's latest spell. He knew that she was fighting beyond her usual abilities, driven by the Imperius Curse that controlled her. This made it difficult for Snape to defend himself, as he couldn't attack her lethally without risking harm to her. His time was being wasted, and he was growing increasingly frustrated. "This is ridiculous," Snape muttered to himself, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

Draco watched anxiously as the duel continued, his heart racing with fear. Snape was a skilled wizard, but he was also a little rusty, having not dueled in a long time. Charity, on the other hand, seemed to be gaining strength, her spells becoming more powerful and precise. Draco's eyes darted back and forth, searching for an opportunity to intervene.

Suddenly, an idea struck Draco. While Charity was busy attacking Snape, Draco crept up behind her, his heart pounding in his chest. He raised his wand, took a deep breath, and shouted "Expelliarmus!" The spell caught Charity off guard, and her wand went flying out of her hand. Snape quickly took advantage of the distraction, casting a Stunning Spell that sent Charity crashing to the ground.

Snape turned to Draco, a hint of a smile on his face. "Well done, Draco," he said, his voice filled with approval. "You have a natural talent for magic." Draco grinned, feeling a surge of pride. "I learned the spell from Harry," he said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Snape's eyes softened, and he smiled, a warmth in his eyes that Draco had never seen before. "Yes, Potter is indeed a powerful wizard," Snape said. "Capable of teaching an eleven-year-old a second-year spell, no less." Snape's smile grew wider, and he nodded in approval. "I must admit, I am impressed. Potter's skills are... formidable." Snape's eyes seemed to glaze over, lost in thought. "He reminds me of... myself, when I was younger." Snape's eyes refocused, and he looked at Draco. "You are lucky to have him as a friend, Draco."

As they made their way down the corridor, Charity resting safely aside, Snape and Draco conversed in hushed tones. The door to the room they sought was still far away, and the walk gave them ample opportunity to talk. Snape's eyes gleamed with approval as he turned to Draco. "I must say, I am very pleased that you have changed your ways, Draco," he said. "The Malfoy family's...beliefs, shall we say, have never been entirely in line with my own values."

Draco smiled, a hint of relief in his eyes. "It wasn't easy, sir," he said. "But I'm happy enough, and I know it's right. Harry...he accepted me for who I am, without question. That's when I realized how truly noble he is." Snape's eyes softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, Potter is indeed a remarkable young wizard," he said.

Draco continued, his voice filled with emotion. "And then there's my younger brother, Scorpius. He's always been against the family's...beliefs. He's attending Hogwarts next year, and I'm excited to see how he'll do." Snape's eyes sparkled with interest. "I look forward to meeting him," he said. Draco smiled. "Sometimes, when I look at Harry, I see Scorpius. They're both...good people, sir." Snape nodded, a small smile on his face.

Draco's expression turned serious, and he glanced around nervously. "I haven't told my parents about...my change of heart, sir," he said quietly. "I don't know what will happen if I do. Maybe they'll...disown me." Snape's eyes flashed with anger, and he placed a reassuring hand on Draco's shoulder. "If that happens, Draco, you are welcome to stay with me," he said. "You will always have a home, no matter what."

As Snape looked at Draco, he couldn't help but see a younger version of himself. Draco, like Snape, had been forced to believe in his family's views, just as Snape's Muggle father had tried to impose his own beliefs on him. The only difference was that the Malfoy family's views were rooted in the Dark Arts, whereas Snape's father had been driven by a more mundane form of bigotry.

Snape's eyes seemed to glaze over as he thought about his own past. He had loved Lily Evans, a Muggleborn witch, but his own mistakes had driven her away. He had seen Draco looking at Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn witch, with a similar look of admiration and affection. Snape's heart ached as he hoped that Draco would not repeat the mistakes he had made.

Draco, like Snape, had been destined to follow the Dark Lord, but he had realized his mistake and changed his ways. Snape's thoughts were tinged with regret, knowing that it had taken him much longer to come to the same realization, and at what cost. He had lost Lily, and with her, a part of himself. But he was determined to help Draco avoid making the same mistakes.

Meanwhile, As they made their way deeper into the underground chambers, Harry, Hermione, and Neville left Ron behind, continuing on to face whatever dangers lay ahead. They entered another chamber, and were immediately hit with a foul odor that made their eyes water. The air was thick with the stench of rot and decay.

As they looked around, they saw a massive mountain troll standing before them. Its face was twisted in a snarl, and its eyes seemed to be clouded over, as if it was under some kind of spell. "It's been Confunded," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide with concern. "Just like the teachers."

Neville's eyes were fixed on the troll, his face set in a determined expression. "It's bigger than the one we fought on Halloween," he said, his voice low and steady. Hermione nodded, her eyes never leaving the troll. "And unlike Halloween, this one isn't afraid. It's attacking because it's under the Confundus Charm."

Harry's eyes met Neville's, and he could see the understanding there. They knew they had to fight the troll, but it wouldn't be easy. Neville's voice was filled with conviction as he said, "It's Quirrell who's after the Stone, Harry. Not Snape." Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that Neville had finally come to see the truth.

The fight began, and Harry, Hermione, and Neville found themselves facing off against the massive mountain troll. Despite knowing that Ron was alright, having been left behind unconscious had still taken a toll on their morale. They were all first years, and the thought of fighting such a formidable foe was daunting. The troll's eyes seemed to gleam with a malevolent light, and its massive fists swung through the air with a force that made the ground tremble.

Harry, thinking quickly, cast an ice charm, making the floor slippery and causing the troll to stumble. The sound of the troll's feet sliding across the ice-filled floor echoed through the chamber, and for a moment, the three friends dared to hope that they might have the upper hand. But, as Hermione pointed out, the charm was affecting them too. "Harry, melt the ice!" she cried, her eyes wide with concern. Harry quickly complied, casting a melting charm to clear the floor.

Hermione, not one to be deterred, cast a Leg Locker Jinx, hoping to immobilize the troll. Her wand flashed through the air, and the words of the spell left her lips with a confident precision. But, as she soon realized, the troll's massive size made it resistant to the spell. The troll simply laughed, its eyes glinting with malevolence, and its massive fists swung through the air with renewed force.

Neville, undaunted, cast an "Oculus Obscurus" Curse, partially blinding the troll and causing it to stumble about in confusion. The words of the spell left Neville's lips with a quiet confidence, and the curse struck the troll with a burst of magical energy. The troll let out a deafening roar as its eyes were partially blinded, and it stumbled about the chamber, its massive fists swinging wildly through the air. "Well done, Neville!" Harry exclaimed, as the three of them took advantage of the troll's momentary distraction to launch a fresh attack.

Hermione, quick-thinking as always, cast a Body Bind Curse on the troll, freezing it momentarily in place. The troll's massive body stiffened, its limbs locked in a rigid pose, as the curse took hold. "Yes!" Harry exclaimed, as the three of them took advantage of the troll's temporary paralysis.

Harry's eyes flashed back to the Halloween night when Ron had used the Wingardium Leviosa spell to defeat a troll. He remembered the spell's incantation and the movement of the wand. With a surge of confidence, Harry cast the spell, pointing his wand at the club in the troll's hand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted.

The club flew out of the troll's hand, hovering in mid-air as the spell took hold. Harry, his heart pounding with excitement, levitated the club, guiding it through the air with a flick of his wand. His eyes met the troll's, and for a moment, he felt a pang of guilt. The troll, after all, was not in control of its own actions, and Harry didn't want to hurt it. But, steeling himself, he knew what he had to do.

With a deep breath, Harry guided the club towards the troll's head, striking it with a loud thud. The troll stumbled, its massive body swaying precariously, but it did not yet fall. Harry, Hermione, and Neville waited, their eyes fixed on the troll, as it stumbled and staggered, its movements slow and uncoordinated.

However, as the troll continued to stumble, Harry, Hermione, and Neville were unsure where it would finally fall. They exchanged nervous glances, their eyes fixed on the troll's swaying form. "Back!" Harry shouted, as the troll's body began to topple. They all moved backwards, trying to get out of the way, but it was too late.

The troll's massive body crashed to the ground, its head landing with a sickening thud on Neville's foot. Neville let out a blood-curdling scream as Harry and Hermione rushed to his side. "No, Neville!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes wide with horror.

Hermione quickly cast a Wingardium Leviosa spell, levitating the troll's body off Neville's foot. Harry helped Neville to rise, but it was clear that his ankle was badly sprained. Neville's face was contorted in pain as he tried to put weight on his foot.

"I'm so sorry, Neville," Harry said, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. But before he could continue, Neville cut him off. "It's not your fault, Harry," Neville said, his voice tight with pain. Harry and Hermione exchanged a concerned glance, knowing that they had to get Neville to safety.

"We'll leave you here, Neville," Hermione said gently. "We'll go ahead and try to find the Stone. You just rest and try to stay comfortable." Neville nodded reluctantly, knowing that he couldn't walk on his injured ankle. Harry and Hermione helped him to sit down alongside the wall, and then they set off alone, leaving Neville to wait for them.

As they continued on their quest, Hermione turned to Harry and said, "That must have been Quirrell's obstacle, so now there are only two left: one set by Snape and the other by Dumbledore." Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

They entered a new chamber, and at first, it seemed empty. But as they stepped further in, they realized they were trapped. Black flames blocked the path ahead, while purple flames blocked the way back. Harry and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance.

In front of them, seven potions were aligned, each one a different color. From left to right, they were: white, red, blue, yellow, green, black, and purple. Additionally, each potion bottle was a different size; from tallest to smallest, the order was: black, yellow, red, purple, white, green, and blue. Harry's eyes widened as he took in the complexity of the challenge. "We need to figure out which bottle contains what," Hermione said, her voice steady and calm.

As they stood before the seven potions, Harry and Hermione realized that the solution to the physical riddle lay in a roll of paper that hung on the wall. The paper bore a cryptic message, a riddle that would have to be solved in order to figure out the correct potions needed to safely pass through the flames. Hermione's eyes scanned the riddle, her brow furrowed in concentration. "This is a tough one," she said, "but I think we can figure it out."

The riddle read:

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onwards neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

Hermione looked up at Harry, her eyes shining with determination. "We can do this, Harry," she said. "We just need to think it through." Harry nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. Together, they set to work, pouring over the riddle and the clues, determined to find the solution.

Harry was known for his quick thinking and bravery, but when it came to riddles, Hermione was the undisputed master. She had a way of analyzing clues and piecing together seemingly unrelated information that left Harry in awe. As they stood before the seven potions, Hermione's eyes scanned the riddle, her brow furrowed in concentration. Harry, on the other hand, was still working his way through the clues, his mind racing with possibilities.

Just as Harry was about three-quarters of the way to solving the riddle, Hermione's face lit up with a triumphant smile. "I've got it!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. "The answer is clear!" Harry looked at her in amazement, eager to hear her solution.

"The blue bottle contains the potion to go ahead through the black flames," Hermione explained, her voice confident and clear. "While the purple bottle is the one that would let one go back through the purple flames." She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "The red and black bottles are wine. And the white, green, and yellow bottles contain poison." Harry's eyes widened in admiration as he realized just how clever Hermione's solution was.

Hermione's eyes locked onto Harry's, her expression serious. "Be careful, Harry," she said, her voice low and urgent. "There may be...you know who...with Quirrell inside." Harry's face set in a determined expression, but he tried to reassure her with a joke. "Don't worry, I've survived a Killing Curse once," he said, pointing to the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Hermione didn't find the joke amusing. Her expression remained stern, her eyes flashing with concern. Harry tried again, "I might get lucky again." But Hermione still didn't find the joke funny. She shook her head, her voice firm. "Just be safe, Harry. I don't want to lose my...you know, my brother. I've always thought of you as a younger brother."

Harry's face softened, and he reached out to touch Hermione's arm. "I'll be careful, sis," he said, his voice gentle. Hermione's expression faltered, and she threw her arms around Harry, hugging him tightly.

Hermione pulled back, her eyes welling up with tears. Harry's face softened, and he reached out to gently wipe the tears from her face. "I don't want to see my sister-like cry," he said, trying to coax a smile from her. Hermione's lips trembled, but she managed a small smile.

Harry leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Goodbye, Hermione," he said, his voice low and gentle. He then turned to the blue potion and drank it in one swift motion. "I hope you're right, Hermione," he joked, "because I don't fancy drinking poison. And I've heard that sisters tend to do that to brothers, you know." Hermione chuckled, despite her tears, and shook her head.

With a final smile, Hermione drank the purple potion, and Harry watched as she disappeared into the purple flames, leaving him to face whatever lay ahead alone.

Harry steeled himself and made his way to the black flames, the potion's effects still coursing through his veins. He hesitated for a moment, wondering what lay ahead, before taking a deep breath and stepping into the flames. As he passed through the black flames, he felt an icy sensation wash over him, like a thousand tiny fingers tracing paths across his skin. The cold was biting, and Harry could feel it seeping into his bones, making his teeth chatter.

Despite the chill, Harry pushed on, his eyes fixed on the door ahead. As he emerged from the flames, he found himself in a small, dimly lit room. The air was musty and filled with the scent of old books. A single door stood before him, adorned with intricate carvings and a large, old-fashioned keyhole. Harry's heart quickened as he realized that this must be the entrance to the final, seventh chamber - the chamber where the Philosopher's Stone was hidden. But he also knew that he would have to face not only the obstacle set by Dumbledore but also Quirrell, who was likely waiting for him, perhaps with Voldemort himself.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had just returned to the castle, his long strides eating up the distance as he hastened to his office. He had received a letter from Draco Malfoy, detailing how all five of them - Draco, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville - had left to go through the trapdoor to save the Philosopher's Stone. The letter had also been a plea for help, with Draco requesting that Dumbledore return to the castle as soon as possible, as they may not be able to save the Stone on their own.

Dumbledore's face was etched with concern as he thought about the obstacles that lay between the five first years and the Philosopher's Stone. He had designed the obstacles himself, and he knew that they were formidable, even for experienced wizards. The thought of five first years, no matter how talented, facing those obstacles alone was daunting, to say the least. "I fear for their safety," Dumbledore muttered to himself, his eyes clouding with worry.

Dumbledore's concern for the five first years was palpable, but he knew he had to prioritize their safety above all else. However, before he could rush to their aid, he had to attend to another pressing matter. "I must lift the Confundus Charms from the other professors first," he said to himself, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The thought of his colleagues, normally wise and kind, attacking any student who crossed their path was unbearable. Dumbledore knew he had to act swiftly to prevent any harm from coming to the students, especially the five brave first years who had taken it upon themselves to save the Philosopher's Stone.

As Snape and Draco made their way to the second chamber, they were met with a peculiar sight. The flying keys that were supposed to be swirling around the room were instead stuck in the door, as if they had been frozen in place. Snape's eyes narrowed as he realized what must have happened. "When Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville passed through the door, the keys must have attached themselves to them," he thought to himself.

Draco's expression turned worried as he gazed at the stuck keys. "I hope they're alright," he muttered, his brow furrowed with concern. Snape's gaze softened slightly as he looked at Draco. He could see the genuine worry etched on the young boy's face, and it warmed Snape's heart to see Draco care so deeply for his friends. "We will proceed with caution," Snape said, his voice a little softer than usual.

As Snape and Draco entered the third chamber, they were met with a giant chessboard, the pieces towering above them like sentinels. But Snape was not interested in playing a game of wizard's chess. His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he raised his wand. "Reducto Totalum," he hissed, casting a destructive spell that he himself had invented. The chess pieces exploded into a thousand fragments, the sound of shattering stone echoing through the chamber.

As the dust settled, Snape and Draco made their way to the other side of the room, where they saw Ron Weasley lying unconscious on a makeshift bed made of cloaks. The cloaks, Snape noted, were likely Harry's, Hermione's, and Neville's. Ron's head was covered by a makeshift bandage, and his face was pale. Draco's expression turned concerned as he rushed towards Ron, Snape following close behind. "Ron!" Draco exclaimed, his voice filled with worry.

Snape's hands moved swiftly and precisely as he healed the wound on Ron's forehead. Draco watched anxiously, his eyes fixed on Ron's pale face. As Snape finished the healing spell, Ron's eyes flickered open. "Checkmate!" he exclaimed, his voice weak but triumphant. He looked around, confused, and then his face contorted in worry. "Harry! Hermione! Neville!" he shouted, but then his expression changed as he realized where he was and what had happened. He recalled the events leading up to his fainting spell, and how he had sacrificed himself to allow Harry, Hermione, and Neville to move forward and save the Philosopher's Stone.

As Ron's memories came flooding back, he saw Draco and Snape standing over him. His face lit up with relief, and he threw his arms around Draco. "Draco! Oh, thank God you're alright! I was so worried someone had attacked you!" Draco laughed, hugging Ron back. "I'm fine, Ron. I've brought Professor Snape with me." Ron's eyes widened in surprise as he looked at Snape, who was watching the reunion with a small, enigmatic smile.

Just then, they all heard footsteps coming from the next chamber. As they turned to look, they saw Hermione Granger supporting a limping Neville Longbottom, whose ankle was clearly sprained. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as she took in the sight of Professor Snape and Draco standing alongside Ron. For a moment, she looked like she was about to faint, but then she let out a sigh of relief.

Snape quickly stepped forward, his wand at the ready. "Let me take a look at that ankle," he said, his voice softening slightly as he examined Neville's injury. With a few swift motions, he healed the sprain, and Neville's face lit up with gratitude.

Hermione's eyes then landed on Draco, and she rushed over to hug him tightly. "Draco, I was so worried about you! We thought someone must have attacked you!" Draco's face flushed with embarrassment as he hugged her back, smiling. Neville, too, looked relieved to see his friend safe and sound. Then, Hermione's gaze fell upon Ron, who was now conscious and looking a bit dazed. Her face lit up with joy, and she rushed over to hug him tightly, tears of relief streaming down her face.

Hermione took a deep breath and began to explain the events that had transpired after they had separated. "I managed to return from the purple flames," she said, "but Harry had to go back through them to continue on. He's waiting for us on the other side of the black flames." Ron, Neville, and Draco listened intently, their faces filled with concern. Hermione's expression turned worried. "The problem is, we've used up all the potion that allows us to pass through the black flames. We can't get to Harry without it."

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed as he listened to Hermione's explanation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small vials. "I didn't expect to have to brew this potion again so soon," he muttered, "but it seems I have no choice." With a flick of his wand, he began to brew the potion, his movements swift and precise. The others watched in silence, their eyes fixed on the bubbling potion as they waited anxiously for it to be ready.

Just then, they heard footsteps coming from behind. They all turned to see Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick approaching, accompanied by none other than Albus Dumbledore himself. Ron's eyes widened in surprise as he exclaimed, "Professor Dumbledore! We thought you were at the Ministry!" Dumbledore smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling with kindness. "Yes, I was, but I received a letter from Draco here, and I felt it was imperative that I return immediately."

Hermione's gaze turned to Draco, her eyes filled with understanding. "So this was why you were late," she said, a hint of a smile on her face. "You were trying to bring more help." Draco nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "And also, I was attacked by Confunded Professor Snape, but somehow the spell broke, and then he and I came to the third floor corridor. But we had to duel Professor Charity first, who wasn't understanding her control," Draco explained. "Then I petted Fluffy, and he and I came here."

McGonagall's expression turned worried, her eyes filled with concern for Harry, whom she had always regarded as a grandson. "We must hurry," she said, her voice firm but laced with anxiety. "We can't let anything happen to Harry." Flitwick and Sprout nodded in agreement, their faces filled with concern. "Yes, indeed. We must ensure the boy's safety," Flitwick said. Sprout added, "We can't afford to lose him, not now, not ever." Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling with determination. "We will do everything in our power to protect Harry." Meanwhile, Snape continued to brew the potion, his movements swift and precise. "Almost done," he muttered to himself.

Dumbledore's expression turned firm as he instructed the professors. "I want you all to take the children back to the castle. Professor McGonagall, please ensure they receive medical attention from Madam Pomfrey. I will go and save Harry." The children and McGonagall immediately began to protest, but Dumbledore held up a hand, his eyes twinkling with authority. "I will not be swayed. It is too dangerous for any of you to continue. I will handle this myself."

Hermione, Ron, and Neville all looked like they had been through a war. Hermione had several cuts and scrapes on her face and arms, while Ron had a large bruise on his cheek. Neville was still limping, his ankle clearly painful. Draco, too, looked concerned, with a few scratches on his face. Reluctantly, McGonagall mounted a broom, gesturing for Neville to sit with her. Snape mounted another broom, with Draco sitting behind him, while Sprout and Flitwick each mounted a broom with Ron and Hermione respectively.

As they flew off towards the castle, Madam Pomfrey's worried face appeared in the window of the hospital wing. She was especially concerned about Harry, who had always been a special student to her. Harry was one of the few students who would visit her even when he wasn't injured, and they had developed a close friendship over the months. Madam Pomfrey's eyes filled with tears as she thought about Harry's current predicament, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the other children were safe.

As Harry stood before the intricately carved door, he couldn't help but think of Ginny. He remembered the way she had smiled at him, the way her eyes had sparkled with mischief. He recalled the conversation they had shared in dreamland the night before, a conversation that had left him feeling both excited and nervous. Ginny had warned him, her voice firm but laced with concern. "If you try to face Quirrell alone, Harry, I'll never kiss you again." Harry's heart had skipped a beat at the threat, but now, as he stood before the door, he knew he had no choice but to face Quirrell alone.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry whispered to himself, feeling a pang of guilt. "I promise I'll make it up to you." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. With a determined look on his face, Harry pushed open the door and stepped into the unknown.

As Harry entered the seventh chamber, he was immediately struck by the sight before him. A long, winding staircase led down to a small, dimly lit room. At the center of the room, Harry saw a mirror that seemed to be reflecting an image that didn't quite belong to him. It was the Mirror of Erised, the same mirror he had stumbled upon during his Christmas encounter. Harry remembered the way the mirror had shown him his deepest desires: his parents, alive and smiling; his friends, all grown up and successful; and even a glimpse of his future family with Ginny.

As Harry's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw Quirrell standing in front of the mirror, his back to Harry. Just as Harry had expected, Quirrell was after the Philosopher's Stone, and he had finally reached the last obstacle. But to Harry's relief, Quirrell's hands were empty, and the Stone was still safely out of his reach. Harry's presence remained unnoticed, and he held his breath, watching Quirrell's every move. "What does it show you?" Quirrell muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. "How can I get past you?"

As Quirrell sensed movement, he turned back to face Harry, his eyes narrowing into slits. For a moment, Harry saw a glimmer of the true Quirrell, the one who had been hiding behind a mask of stuttering and nervousness. This time, Quirrell's stuttering was gone, and his voice was low and menacing. He looked malevolent, his eyes gleaming with evil intent. His purple turban still sat atop his head, a symbol of his dark allegiance. The dim light of the chamber seemed to dance across his face, casting eerie shadows that made him look even more sinister.

"Are you surprised to see me, Potter?" Quirrell asked, his voice dripping with malice. Harry made his way downstairs, his eyes fixed on Quirrell. "No," he said calmly. "I always knew it was you." Quirrell's face twisted into a mocking smile. "Brilliant! Five points to Gryffindor!" He chuckled, a cold, mirthless sound that sent shivers down Harry's spine. "You're more than I expected, P-Potter," Quirrell said, his fake stuttering returning as he spoke. "I thought you'd s-suspect Snape, not me." Quirrell's eyes seemed to gleam with amusement as he watched Harry's reaction.

Quirrell's smile grew wider as he said, "Now, let's stop the fake stuttering, shall we?" His voice was smooth and menacing, and Harry could sense the evil intent behind his words. Harry nodded, his eyes never leaving Quirrell's face. "Yes," he said calmly. "You cleverly made it look like Snape was after the Stone, but I always knew it was you." Quirrell's expression turned mock-sad, and he clapped his hands together in exaggerated disappointment. "Oh, my acting skills have failed me," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Quirrell's expression turned serious, and he took a step closer to the Mirror of Erised. "Anyway, I am now about to get the Stone, and you won't be able to do anything to stop me," he sneered. Harry smirked, a confident glint in his eye. "I don't think you're going to get the Stone," he said, his voice firm and resolute.

Quirrell's face turned red with anger as he glared at Harry. "I will get the Stone," he snarled. "It's just this stupid mirror that I can't understand." Harry smiled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's beyond your level," he said, his words dripping with confidence.

Quirrell's anger seemed to grow, his eyes flashing with fury as he took a step closer to Harry. His face was twisted in a snarl, his lips curled back in a sneer. Harry stood his ground, his eyes locked on Quirrell's, his expression calm and unwavering. "Just answer one question," he said, his voice firm and commanding. "Why did you date Professor Charity for the last two months if your mission was always to steal the Stone?"

Quirrell's expression changed, a sly smile spreading across his face like a stain. "Oh, that was just part of my plan," he said, his voice dripping with malice and a hint of pride. "I manipulated her, and besides, I got to touch her, you know." His eyes seemed to gleam with a perverse satisfaction as he spoke, his voice dripping with a sickening sense of entitlement. Harry's face twisted in disgust, his eyes wide with horror as he realized the true extent of Quirrell's depravity.

Quirrell's smile grew wider, his eyes glinting with amusement as he seemed to savor Harry's disgust. "Though she was a piece of filth, who believes Muggles are like wizards," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt and a twisted sense of superiority. "I still enjoyed myself with her." His words were like a slap in the face, leaving Harry feeling shocked and outraged. Harry's eyes blazed with anger, his face pale with disgust and a deep sense of revulsion. "How dare you," he spat, his voice trembling with rage and a deep sense of loathing.

Harry's face was a mask of anger, his eyes blazing with fury as he listened to Quirrell's taunts. But as he looked at Quirrell, he suddenly thought of Ginny, and his anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm determination. He took a deep breath, focusing his mind on the task ahead. With a swift movement, Harry tried to attack Quirrell with a Full-Body Bind Curse. "Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted, his wand flashing through the air.

But Quirrell seemed to have anticipated Harry's move, and with a lazy flick of his wand, he blocked the curse easily. "You're predictable, Potter," Quirrell sneered, his eyes glinting with amusement. With a swift movement, Quirrell conjured a mass of thick, thorny vines that seemed to erupt from the very walls themselves. The vines snaked through the air, wrapping themselves around Harry's wrists and ankles, binding him tightly to a nearby pillar.

Harry struggled to free himself, but the vines seemed to tighten their grip, strangling him slowly. Quirrell laughed, his eyes gleaming with triumph as he focused on his task ahead. "The Stone will soon be mine," he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with malice. With a final glance at Harry, Quirrell turned back to the Mirror of Erised, his eyes fixed greedily on the Stone that lay within.

Harry watched in horror as Quirrell muttered to himself, his eyes fixed greedily on the Mirror of Erised. "I can see myself presenting the Stone to my master," Quirrell whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "But how to get the Stone?" Quirrell's eyes seemed to gleam with a malevolent intensity as he pondered the problem.

Just then, Harry heard a cold, menacing voice that seemed to send shivers down his spine. "Use the Boy," the voice hissed. "Use the Boy." Harry's eyes widened in horror as he realized that the voice seemed to be coming from Quirrell, but his lips didn't move. Quirrell's eyes seemed to flash with an otherworldly energy as he quickly turned to Harry and dragged him through the vines to the front of the mirror.

"What do you see?" Quirrell demanded, his eyes glinting with a sinister intensity. Harry struggled against the vines, but he couldn't break free. Quirrell's grip was like a vice, holding him in place. Just then, Quirrell removed the vines, and Harry stumbled forward, gasping for breath. Quirrell's eyes seemed to bore into his soul as he repeated his question. "What do you see?" Harry's wand was lying far away, out of reach. He had no option but to answer Quirrell's question.

Harry thought quickly, deciding that whatever he saw, he would just lie. He didn't want to give Quirrell any information that might help him get the Stone. Harry looked into the mirror, and this time, instead of seeing his family, he saw something else. Although his deepest wish was to see his family, his current deepest desire was to save the Stone.

As he gazed into the mirror, Harry saw himself standing confidently, the Philosopher's Stone glowing brightly in his hand. The Stone was a deep, rich red color, like a ruby, and it seemed to pulse with an inner light. Harry's reflection smiled, and then tucked the Stone into its pocket. As this happened, Harry felt a strange sensation, as if something was being placed in his own pocket. But he didn't react, determined to keep up the lie.

"I see my family," Harry said, trying to sound convincing. "My dead parents are hugging me tightly." Quirrell's eyes seemed to gleam with excitement, but Harry just smiled, trying to keep up the act.

Harry's lie seemed to have convinced Quirrell, but just as he was about to turn away, Harry heard the cold, menacing voice again. "He lies," the voice hissed. "The boy lies." Quirrell's eyes snapped back to Harry, and he saw something in Quirrell's gaze that made his blood run cold.

Harry tried to run, but his feet seemed rooted to the spot. He stumbled forward, but his legs gave way beneath him, and he fell heavily onto the stairs. As he struggled to get up, he heard the voice speaking to Quirrell. "Let me talk to the boy face to face," the voice said. Quirrell hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously to the side. "Master, you are not strong enough," he warned.

But the voice was insistent. "Just let him," it said. Harry didn't know what was going on, but he knew that he was in grave danger. The scar on his forehead was burning like hell, and he could feel a dark presence stirring, like a monster awakening from a deep sleep.

Harry was frozen in terror, unable to move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban, the fabric slowly unraveling like a snake slithering through the grass. What was going on? Harry's mind was racing with questions, but he couldn't ask them, couldn't even move. The turban fell away, revealing Quirrell's head, which looked strangely small without it.

Quirrell turned slowly on the spot, his eyes fixed on Harry, and Harry felt his blood run cold. He would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. His voice was trapped in his throat, unable to escape. And then, Harry saw it. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. The face seemed to be staring straight at Harry, its eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity.

The face on the back of Quirrell's head whispered, "Harry Potter…" Its voice was like a cold breeze on a winter's night, sending shivers down Harry's spine. Harry tried to take a step backward, but his legs wouldn't move. They seemed rooted to the spot, unable to respond to his brain's desperate signals. "See what I have become?" the face said, its voice dripping with malevolence. "Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…"

The face's words seemed to wash over Harry like a dark, icy wave. He felt a creeping sense of horror as he realized the true extent of Quirrell's possession. "Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks…" the face continued, its voice growing stronger, more confident. "You saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own…" The face's eyes seemed to gleam with an otherworldly light as it spoke, its voice dripping with anticipation.

"Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?" the face asked, its voice low, menacing. So he knew. The realization hit Harry like a slap in the face. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs, and he stumbled backward, desperate to get away from Quirrell and the monstrous face on the back of his head.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face on the back of Quirrell's head. "Better save your own life and join me…or you'll meet the same end as your parents… They died begging me for mercy…" The face's words were like a red-hot knife, twisting and turning in Harry's heart. But Harry refused to be intimidated.

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly, his voice echoing off the walls. Quirrell was walking backward towards him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling, seeming to enjoy Harry's anger. But Harry didn't care. He was feeling angry like he had never before. He had watched in nightmares the death of his parents, and it wasn't begging. They were brave.

Harry's anger seemed to radiate power, a power that he didn't know he possessed. It was as if his magical core, still unknown to him, had been unleashed.

The air was electric with tension as Harry's anger boiled over. His eyes blazed with a fierce determination, and his face was set in a resolute expression. The face on the back of Quirrell's head seemed to be enjoying Harry's outburst, its smile growing wider and more malevolent.

But Harry didn't care. He was beyond reason, his emotions fueled by the memory of his parents' bravery. He had watched in nightmares as they died protecting him, and the face's lie had ignited a firestorm of rage within him. His anger was a palpable force, radiating outward from him like a shockwave.

The winds that had begun to blow seemed to grow stronger, whipping through the room with a fierce intensity. The lanterns swayed violently, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The flame in the lanterns doubled in size, casting a golden glow over the scene. It was as if the very elements themselves were responding to Harry's anger, as if the air and the fire were being drawn into his vortex of rage.

Quirrell stumbled backward, his eyes fixed on Harry in alarm. The face on the back of his head seemed to be the only one who was not affected by the turmoil, its smile never wavering. But even it seemed to be watching Harry with a newfound wariness, as if it had not expected him to unleash such fury.

Though Voldemort on the back of Quirrell's head was surprised, he didn't let it show. "How touching…" it hissed. "I always value bravery… Yes, boy, your parents were brave… I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother needn't have died… she was trying to protect you…" The face's words were like a knife, twisting and turning in Harry's heart.

But the thought of his mother's sacrifice dissipated Harry's anger, and the winds that had been blowing so fiercely died down. Voldemort smiled, seeming to sense Harry's emotions. Harry's eyes flicked to the Mirror of Erised, and he saw his own reflection staring back at him. He knew that if he was going to die, he would die bravely, but he would not die. He just knew it. He had to live for Ginny, for his best friends Ron, Hermione, Neville, and even Draco.

In the Mirror of Erised, Harry saw Ginny smiling at him, and his heart swelled with determination. He tried to get his wand from the ground, but Quirrell acted fast. "Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain," Quirrell sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.

"NEVER!" Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him.

The pain in Harry's head lessened, and he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone. He saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers in horror. They were blistering before his eyes, as if they had been burned by an invisible flame. Quirrell's face was contorted in agony, his eyes bulging with pain.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, his voice echoing off the walls. Quirrell lunged at Harry, knocking him clean off his feet. Harry landed hard on the stone floor, the wind knocked out of him. Quirrell landed on top of him, his hands closing around Harry's neck like a vice. Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell's face, twisted in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him — my hands — my hands!" Quirrell cried out in agony, his voice trembling with pain. And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms. Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny, as if they had been seared by an invisible flame.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort, his voice echoing off the walls. Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face. "AAAARGH!" Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain. Harry's mind was racing, but he knew he had to act fast. His only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off, but Harry held firm, his fingers digging deep into Quirrell's blistered skin. The pain in Harry's head was building, a searing agony that threatened to consume him. He couldn't see - his vision was blurring, fading to black.

All he could hear was Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" The voices seemed to come from far away, echoing off the walls as Harry's consciousness began to slip. He felt himself fading, falling down into a dark abyss. He could see the blackness surrounding him, a suffocating shroud that threatened to engulf him.

Harry heard a thud, and he knew Quirrell had fallen to the ground. But Harry couldn't open his eyes, couldn't see what was happening. He tried to speak, to cry out, but his voice was trapped in his throat. And then, everything went black. Harry fainted, his body crumpling to the ground as the darkness closed in around him.

Next chapter is End of First Year.

A/n: I hope You like it. Please ignore grammatical and spelling errors. So Hello guys , this was the largest chapter I ever wrote 20k words. And it was even longer so I had to divide the chapter intwo parts. Sorry for late publishing but as you can see I wrote a chapter of double length. So this was my version of through the Trapdoor. How do you like the bonding moment between Draco and Snape ? And what do you think of Charity ? However I kept the fight with Quirell as much as canon as possible. Next chapter will be last chapter of first year , really I promise. .Thanks for reading. § Hinny Forever § Please Review!!!