Summer 1992

Ronald Weasley

Ron's fingers twitched idly by his sides as he leaned against the cold stone walls of the upper corridors. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying his best to rid his stomach of a swirling knot of nauseous anticipation that threatened to have him heave his breakfast onto the floor. His eyes stung in the morning light, he hadn't slept much if at all the night before, laying awake and listening to the sounds that lingered on the edges of his consciousness; laughter and screaming in good measure.

The castle felt strange, the air almost solid and resistant to his being heaved into his lungs and out again. It was as if the castle walls knew that something was wrong, as if they too were waiting for the end of things. It made Ron feel even more jittery. Everything he had worked towards the entire year was coming to an end. It both excited him and pumped his veins with fear—ThePhilosopher's words felt like poison as he mouthed them.

In the upper corridors, he was passed by groups of Gryffindor students who shot him quick, cutting glares, their eyes ridden with a feeling somewhere between contempt and unease. It was strange enough for a Slytherin to venture so far towards Gryffindor Tower and Ron was sure they hated that it was him. He had heard a few of them mutter under their breath as they walked past, shoulders stiffer than they should have been. A second-year had looked him in the eyes, her face turning pale before she glanced away. It made him feel even more ill. They thought he had something to do with Sally Smith. The realization crawled under his skin and made him shiver.

Through the morning crowds of Gryffindors came a voice that made Ron's breath hitch.

"Ron?"

Stepping around a group of fifth-years came Hermione, her eyes questioning and a large stack of books hugged tightly to her chest.

"Morning," Ron mumbled. He glanced over her shoulder to see if Harry was with her, and was disappointed to find that he wasn't.

She tilted her head slightly. "What are you doing? Don't we have class downstairs?"

Ron stared at her blankly. "I was looking for Harry."

"Oh… I see. Is it… important?"

Ron nodded. It was the most important thing he had ever done. He could feel his face pale.

Hermione shifted her books anxiously in her arms. Her Brows furrowed slightly.

"Is this about… you know… the thing Harry noticed with Professor Snape?" She asked barely above a whisper.

Ron inhaled sharply and his stomach twisted into another painful knot. For what seemed like a long time, he debated the question in his mind. He considered lying, telling her it was something else entirely. But the words sat heavy in the back of his mouth, refusing to cross his tongue. He couldn't help but stare into Hermione's eyes and imagine them glossy like he had seen after James and Lily Potter had died. It was his fault she had almost 't I owe her as much truth as I can?

He swallowed and nodded once. "Yeah, it is."

Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line. She frowned, looking over her shoulder as if she expected Snape to be standing behind her. "Harry's not in the common room," she said quietly. "He's in one of the abandoned classrooms with Neville."

Ron's pulse quickened. "What? Why?"

"He wanted to let Neville know about what he saw last night. And he also wanted to ask if Neville knew anything about Fluffy."

"Fluffy?"

"He's Hagrid's Cerberus, he's here in the castle. We think he's guarding whatever it is that Hagrid took from Gringotts. Harry doesn't want to go to class," her frown deepened, "he says all he can think about is your detention in the forest."

A Cerberus?Ron swallowed and took a shallow breath. He wasn't sure if he could continue to breathe if things managed to get any worse. He felt like he had just fallen from his broom as if his accident had been seconds ago and not over a year.

"Can you show me where?"

"Where is Harry? Or the Cerberus?"

Ron bit the inside of his cheek and bit back the word he wanted to say. "Harry, I need to talk to him."

Hermione nodded and turned on her heel. "We have to be quick, before our next class."

Ron fell into step beside her, his hands still jittering against his side as he tried to keep his heart rate under control. Hermione led him away from the areas traversed by Gryffindors and into a quieter part of the castle where the corridors were emptier. Their footsteps echoed against the high stone walls, and with each step, Ron felt more and more like he just wanted to collapse.

Finally, she stopped before a door with its wood darkened from years of neglect. "He's in here." She didn't wait for Ron to respond, pushing the door open just enough for them to slip inside.

The classroom was lit only by the hazy morning light filtering through the tall windows, casting elongated shadows over rows of unused desks. Dust floated lazily in the air, disturbed by the faint draft creeping through the cracks in the brick walls.

At the far end of the room, Neville and Harry stood before a large chalkboard, their backs turned to the door. The board was covered in scribbled notes and diagrams—some words underlined aggressively, others half-erased as if reconsidered. "Fluffy" was scrawled near the top, connected by jagged lines to words like "Gringotts," "Snape," and "Voldemort?"

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice breaking the silence.

Both Harry and Neville turned sharply. Harry's gaze darker than Ron would have imagined and his eyes searching over both of them as if he expected one of them to curse him. Finally, his eyes softened and he nodded.

"Hi," he said politely.

Neville on the other hand furrowed his brows. "Do we still have time? Before the next class, don't we? If I skip too many, Gran will be upset if I miss too many."

Harry exhaled sharply. "If you want to leave, Neville, you can. I'm not going to class." His voice was steady but held a tinge of hardness. "I don't care how much trouble I get in."

Neville's frown deepened. "Harry… but… if we skip too many, people are going to start noticing." His voice dropped slightly. "McGonagall will notice."

"I hope she does," Harry said. "Maybe someone will finally take me seriously."

Ron, still standing stiffly by the door, took a step forward. His stomach churned.

"Harry," his voice sounded more hoarse than he intended. He swallowed and tried again. "I need to talk to you."

Harry turned back to him, the boy's emerald eyes brightening slightly.

Ron lifted a shaky hand and pointed at the chalkboard behind him.

Harry followed his gaze, his expression shifting to something sharper. His stance stiffened slightly and his voice filled with urgency. "Did you find out something?" Harry asked. "About Snape?"

Ron hesitated for half a second. "No, I found something worse."

Harry frowned again and Neville shifted a little uncomfortably. Even beside Ron, Hermione straightened.

"Hagrid said something to me—something he shouldn't have."

Hermione let out a quiet, knowing sigh. "Oh, Hagrid."

Ron nodded grimly. "Yeah. He let slip that whatever's being hidden at Hogwarts… it belongs to Nicolas Flamel."

The name brought a slight silence to the room. The three other pairs of eyes blinked at him in confusion.

"Who?" Hermione finally asked, frowning.

Ron ran a hand through his hair, "He's on the chocolate frog cards. I must have at least two of him. And, well, he made the Philosopher's Stone."

Hermione's eyes widened. "No…"

Ron nodded. Both Harry and Neville seemed equally as confused as before.

"The Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked. "I've never heard of it."

"It's alchemy," Ron said.

Hermione nodded. "It's not something they talk about in Hogwarts. But alchemy is a very advanced kind of magic, I've read all about it. And Ron's right, I remember now that Nicolas Flamel is one of the best alchemists to ever live. He was so far above the others that he made something incredibly important: The Philosopher's Stone. It can turn any metal into gold."

"And it can also make the elixir of life…" Ron added.

Hermione nodded and bit her lip. "They say whoever drinks it can become immortal."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean, that's why Voldemort was in the forest?"

Ron nodded. "I think someone is trying to steal the stone for him, or maybe he's trying to do it himself."

"It all makes sense!" Harry said. "That's why Snape hates me! Because I'm the reason Voldemort was defeated the first time!"

Ron didn't bother to argue.

"We have to tell Dumbledore," Hermione said with a nod. "He'll know what to do."

"No!" Ron said quickly. The room grew still for a moment and the three sets of eyes looked at him again in confusion. "I mean," Ron rubbed his arm, "Dumbledore is the one who brought the stone here in the first place. Surely he already knows what's happening. The Professors have to know that a bloody troll doesn't just walk into the school."

Hermione flinched.

"What are you saying?" Harry asked.

Ron bit his cheek. "I'm saying, we have to stop Voldemort from getting the stone… without Dumbledore's help."

Harry frowned.

"Us?" Neville asked. "But, shouldn't the professors handle this?"

A look of annoyance crossed Harry's face. "No, Ron's right. The professors haven't taken me seriously all year. I almost died playing Quidditch, and Hermione almost died too and nobody seems to care."

"You can't be serious," Hermione interjected, "I mean, we're just first-year students."

"We don't have to fight Voldemort," Harry said, "we just have to destroy the stone before he can get it."

"But we could be killed, I mean just from Fluffy alone." She swallowed. "Or worse, we could be expelled."

"If we don't, so many people could die," Ron said. "If someone else manages to get to the stone before us and hands it to Voldemort."

Neville looked incredibly pale. "We can't…"

Harry turned to Neville. "We have no choice, don't you want to stop anything from happening to anyone else? Don't you want nobody else to be an orphan?"

Something seemed to shift within Neville and his eyes hardened. "Oh."

Hermione sighed. "Are you really suggesting we do this?"

"Yes," Ron said immediately. "Please, Harry."

The boy-who-lived shut his eyes tightly and opened them again. "We have to."

- SS -

The corridor was silent, the air thick with the kind of stillness that only came before something irreversible. Ron stood outside the door that led to the Cerberus, his pulse pounding against his ribs. The others were barely breathing beside him, each of them rooted in place, staring at the heavy wooden barrier separating them from whatever lay beyond. A single thought spread through all of their minds:The door was open.

Ron swallowed, his throat dry. His fingers twitched at his sides, and suddenly, he wasn't in the hallway anymore. He was back in that cold, dark bathroom, standing over the mountain of dead flesh that had once been a troll. The scent of blood and sweat was thick in the air. His skin clammy with terror and the warmth of something that wasn't his own. His body was aching, pain pulsing through him.

His stomach churned ?

Beside him, Harry let out a slow, steady breath. "This is it," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. Hermione was pale, but she nodded. Neville swallowed hard.

Ron forced himself to meet Harry's gaze. "If we go through that door," he said, voice tight, "there's no turning back."

Harry's expression was set like stone. "I know."

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," Harry said. "You can take my invisibility cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron. "Of course, we're coming with you."

Ron stepped forward in front of Harry and very carefully pulled the door the rest of the way open. It creaked and then they were met with low rumbling growls.

Laying in the middle of the room was an absolutely massive dog, larger than any that Ron had ever seen before. It was as if a dog and a dragon had made a child, each paw big enough to kill Ron in a single swipe. He swallowed thickly. The dog's nose sniffed madly in their direction, but its eyes were closed as it snored.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

Neville's eyes widened. "A music box," his voice squeaked. "It must be how they got past it."

"They?" Harry frowned. "We know it's Snape."

"A music box? Like a muggle one?" Hermione frowned. "Why would Snape have a muggle music box?"

More importantly,Ron thought,why would Voldemort?

"Does it matter?" Harry asked. "All that matters is that he got past Fluffy! He could already have the stone! We have to get down there as quickly as possible!"

"But!" Neville interjected. "If Snape is already down there then won't he just kill us?"

Not if I kill him swallowed yet again.

"We have to do something!" Harry said.

"Neville is right," Hermione frowned. "We need backup. Why don't you go get Professor McGonagall?" She asked Neville. "Tell her we snuck past Fluffy."

Neville looked a little unsure.

"Tell her you caught them sneaking out," Ron suggested. "That they told you what they were doing."

Neville nodded and turned around quickly. He looked across the darkened hallways and then disappeared around one of the corners. The dog's snoring stopped for a second and the air filled with the eerie music of the muggle music box.

The three of them shared glances before they carefully entered the room with the dog, it's nose twitched again but the beast stayed still. Ron slipped his wand from its holster and held it tight in his hand. The warmth beat back the trembling and adrenaline flooded his veins.I just have to destroy the stone,he reminded will all be over soon.

Hermione crouched near the music box, reaching out with careful fingers to wind the tiny mechanism, ensuring the melody didn't falter. Giving both Harry and Ron an awkward smile as he nodded.

Ron's eyes flickered downward along the animal. He was glad it stayed asleep, he couldn't imagine how hard it would be to kill. Probably harder than a troll. He traced the beast's massive paws. His breath caught. One of them was resting over a .

Harry noticed it at the same time, his jaw tightening.

"What do we do now?" Hermione whispered her voice tight with urgency.

Ron felt his heart hammering in his chest. They didn't have time to wait.

Harry glanced between them, then squared his shoulders. "We lift it."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Are you insane?" she hissed. "We could wake it up!"

"Then we don't wake it up," Harry said firmly. "Come on, Ron."

Ron hesitated only a moment before nodding. Together, he and Harry crept forward, moving with careful precision as if they were both hit wizards. The dog's breath was hot and rancid against their faces as they positioned themselves at either side of its enormous paw.

On three," Harry murmured.

Ron nodded, gripping beneath the heavy weight of muscle and fur.

"One… two… three—"

Ron and Harry both heaved as hard as they could. Even still, they barely managed to move the massive paw. It was far heavier than either of them expected, like trying to lift a boulder made of flesh. Eventually, they managed to push it aside, both of them straining and sweating.

"Bloody hell," Ron hissed. "That thing weighs four tons."

"More like five," Harry agreed.

Hermione hurried forward, her eyes darting between them and the newly uncovered trapdoor. Ron wiped his sweaty palms against his robes and reached for the latch. With a sharp crack, the door swung open. A void of absolute darkness stared back at them. The three of them peered down.

"Black," Ron murmured and swallowed thickly. "That's not ominous."

"How deep is that?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. "Would you like to go first?"

"No, I don't!"

"Alright," Ron gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. It was his duty as guardian to go first, but the process wasn't much easier. It was only thinking of Charlie that made him sit and swing his legs down over the edge. Ron slowly lowered himself until he was hanging by the tips of his fingers, both Harry and Hermione looking at him with worry. With a final breath, he let go and fell.

Cold damp air rushed around Ron as he fell into the darkness below. He fell for what felt like far too long, so long that he almost accepted his own death before finally, he came to a sudden cushioned stuff in something soft. He took a deep breath.

"It's alright," He called up the hole which seemed as small as an inch from where he now sat.

A second later, Harry landed beside him, the boy-who-lived landing what seemed to be more gracefully than Ron had done due to the lack of any sort of reaction. It was only a second after Harry, that Hermione too landed, nearly hitting Ron as she did so.

Ron raised his wand as far as he could manage and with a muttered word, light spilled out around them. The cushion that hard broke their fall was a large plant of some sort, tendrils of green reaching out to wrap around their legs and keep them in place.

"Shit!" Ron said.

"This isn't great!" Hermione shrieked. "We're going to get killed by this plant!"

Hermione tried her best to get to her feet, jumping towards one of the damp walls. The moment she had landed, the plant twisted around her ankles and bound her as snugly in place as Harry and Ron.

"Don't move!" Hermione said suddenly, "I know what this is! It's Devil's Snare, the more you struggle the tighter it gets!"

"Is this the same stuff that the twins used on me and Blaise?" Ron asked. He felt the plant grip his ankles tighter, it would have cut into his skin if his robes weren't protecting them.

"How do we get out?" Harry asked. "Snape isn't here, so he must have!"

"Shut up! I'm trying to remember!" Hermione snapped.

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped as the plant wrapped a tendril around his throat.

Great, I've gotten the boy-who-lived frowned and despite Hermione's suggestion, he struggled against the plant. Two new tendrils reached out and grasped his left arm, pinning it down against his side. He cursed under his breath as the plant squeezed harder.

"Devil's Snare!" Hermione suddenly shouted. "It doesn't like heat!"

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes, but we don't have any wood!" Hermione frowned.

"Wood!?" Ron twisted his hand around in the plant's grasp. With another muttered word, thick blue flames erupted from the tip of his wand. The plant seemed to hiss in pain as it let go of him almost immediately, and dropped him hard on the stone floor. He gasped for breath as he heard both Hermione and Harry drop nearby.

Harry gasped and wheezed, his hands rubbing his neck. "It's a good thing you pay attention in Herbology," he coughed.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "And lucky we're wizards too. 'There's no wood', honestly."

Hermione gave him a sharp glare, which Ron just discarded. He didn't care if she was mad about that, she had almost gotten them killed. Sometimes, he thought, Hermione was the most annoying person he knew.

After a moment all three of them managed to stand to their feet. Harry was coughing a few more times before he managed to catch his breath. Together they went down the only other way out of the room, a long stone corridor. The light from Ron's wand bounced to the end where there was another door, this one closed and not left ajar like the last.

"Maybe the plant did kill Snape," Harry suggested.

"Harry!" Hermione chastised. "You sound like you wished it happened!"

Harry shrugged. "It wouldn't be the worst thing to happen."

They stopped at the edge of the door. Ron leaned forward and frowned. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

Harry stopped and listened. "Do you think it's a ghost?"

"No, it sounds like… almost like wings."

"Wings?" Hermione frowned. "I hope it's not bats."

"Snape would love that," Harry added.

Carefully Ron pulled open the door. On the other side was a large brightly lit chamber with a ceiling arching high above them. It was almost as tall as the Great Hall. Throughout the air were small creatures glittering in the light, as they tumbled and fluttered all around. On the opposite side of the chamber was another heavy, wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us?" Ron frowned. He had half a mind to launch a few reductor curses into the air.

"Well, we could run for it," Harry suggested.

Ron nodded and took a deep breath. He covered his face with his arms and sprinted across the room. Surprisingly, nothing swooped for him and by the time he reached the opposite side he had dropped his arms entirely, instead he looked above him at the creatures fluttering about.

"Merlin!" Ron said as he realized what they were missing. "They aren't bats! They're keys!"

"We need to find the one that goes to the door!" Harry added.

"But there are hundreds of them!" Hermione complained.

Before Ron could think of what to do, Harry had found a broomstick that was laid in the corner of the room. The youngest seeker in a century took to the air and before Ron could even try to point out one of the keys that might work, Harry's hand was latched firmly around a large brass one. A second later, Harry was beside them again, the broom discarded.

Harry stuck the struggling key into the lock and turned it, at once the handle clicked and opened.

"Great job," Ron commented. He was suddenly very glad that he had decided to ask for Harry's help with destroying the stone. Otherwise, he nearly shivered, he might have been stuck in this room forever.

The next room made Ron's heart stop and then start again. They stood on the edge of a huge chessboard with large towering pieces that seemed to be carved entirely out of stone. It was the greatest chess set that Ron had ever seen, and if it wasn't for the situation he might have taken the time to appreciate it.

"Now what do we do?" Harry asked.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron looked at them with wide eyes. "We've got to win the game."

"Of chess?" Hermione frowned, seeming nervous.

"I think," Ron said, "each of us will have to be chessmen."

Carefully, Ron walked up to the black knight and ran his fingers over the smooth stone surface. At once, the stone sprang to live beneath his fingers. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look at Ron.

"Do we have to… join you?" Ron asked the knight. It nodded its stone head three times. Ron frowned. "This has some thinking," he said carefully. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three pieces…"

"Just tell us what to do," Harry said. "We aren't good at chess."

Ron nodded. "Well, Harry, you should be a bishop, and Hermione can be the King."

"The king?" Hermione asked.

Ron nodded. "Safest piece. The Queen will be doing a lot of attacking, or maybe even a trade."

He paused for a moment and looked over the remaining pieces. "I guess, I'll have to be a knight," Ron said.

As soon as he took his place, the white pieces across from them sprang to life and a white pawn moved forward two spaces. Ron swallowed, he hoped the chess pieces were worse than he was. He didn't want to find out what happened when they lost.

It had taken only a few turns before Ron found out what could happen, the other knight, the one who had originally touched, was taken by the opponent's bishop. The bishop smashed the stone knight to pieces and discarded the chunks off the side of the board. All three of them shared concerned looks.

"I had to let that happen," Ron said quietly. "It means Harry can take the Bishop."

As the game went on, pieces of black and white stone piled on either side of the chessboard forming a collection of rubble that left Ron feeling nervous. It was only luck that there wasn't a timer and that he could think through his moves thoroughly before he made them. The enemy pieces were good, but they weren't thinking, or at least not from what he could tell. They were running a set of strategies and not adapting to the way Ron played. He wasn't sure if it took an hour or less, but eventually, Hermione placed her hand against the other white bishop, sending it clattering to the ground. Ron took a deep breath.

"Checkmate," he said quietly.

The white pieces turned to him and all at once they crumpled over. Harry, Hermione, and Ron let out worried breaths.

"There has to be one for each Professor," Hermione said. "First was Sprout, and then Flitwick must have enchanted the keys."

"What about chess?" Ron frowned.

"McGonagall," Harry answered. "I've seen a set in her office."

"Blimey, that means we still have Quirrell's and Snape's," Ron said and shook his head. He was almost surprised they had made it this far.

They stepped down another small corridor and pushed open another door. There was a large dark chamber in front of them with a pedestal in the middle. Ron's heart beat faster as he was reminded of Sal. Carefully, all three of them approached the pedestal.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Hermione ran her fingers over a small stone tablet that sat on the pedestal. "I'm not sure, maybe some kind of translation test?"

"Translation?" Ron scrunched his nose. "Does Quirrell speak a lot of languages? I don't think Snape does."

"I.. I'm not sure."

"Well, there's another door," Harry said pointing. "We just have to find some way to open it."

Dried on the bottom of the tablet was a spot of red.

"Oh," Ron said.

Both Harry and Hermione looked at him.

"Quirrell hates vampires doesn't he?" he asked and both of them nodded. "I think we have to leave some blood… for the tablet."

"What?" Harry asked. "Leave some blood."

Hermione retracted her fingers quickly. "Oh, that stain… it's…"

Ron nodded. "I think someone was already through here."

"What does that have to do with vampires?" Harry asked.

"Well, I think the smell of blood drives them mad," Ron said. "And I don't think they have any of their own. So they wouldn't be able to give any to the stone."

"Really?" Harry asked. "No blood?"

"Ron's right," Hermione said, frowning. "But blood magic is dangerous."

"So is letting Voldemort return," Ron reminded her.

Hermoine nodded. "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and reached under her robes, she pulled out the small pin that Ron had given her and smiled sheepishly. Carefully, she pricked the end of her pointer finger. A small balloon of scarlet pooled on the top.

"Did it hurt?" Ron asked.

Hermione smiled and nodded. She placed her finger on the tablet. All at once it glowed a bright blue, and the door on the other side of the chamber opened. Hermione lifted her finger and stuck it into her mouth, using her other hand to place the pin into her pocket.

The next door led to yet another chamber, a smaller one with simply a table and seven differently shaped bottles.

"Snapes," Harry groaned. "Of course it's potions."

"Look!" Hermione said and picked a piece of parchment off the floor. "It's a riddle."

Ron looked over her shoulder and read the paper. It was indeed a riddle, indicating that some of the potions were water while others were poison.

Hermione let out a great sigh and amazingly smiled.

"This isn't magic," he said cheerily. "It's just a logic puzzle. A lot of great wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck here forever."

"Uh, won't we be stuck here forever?" Harry asked.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "We just have to figure out which one to drink. And I think it's that one," he said pointing to the smallest bottle. "It's the only one that fits the riddle."

Harry picked up the bottle and weighed it in his hand. "There isn't a lot," he said. "Only enough for two of us."

Ron frowned. "Which bottle lets you go back through the other room?" he said. He pointed a wall of purple flames that had risen behind them and closed them in.

Hermione pointed to another bottle. "That one."

"Well, why don't you drink that and go help Neville?" He asked. "I mean, we can't all go through."

"Go help, Neville," Hermione sneered. "Absolutely not."

Ron rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I mean, I don't want to be rude… but I think I know more combat magic, Hermione."

"Oh, I agree," she said. "But still, I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to wait right here until you both return."

Ron and Harry shared worried looks. "Are you sure?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Well, I guess we can't make you," Harry said. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip before handing it to Ron who did the same.

The potion felt like ice coursing through Ron's veins. He put the bottle back on the table and braced himself for a second as the potion washed over him. Harry, on the other hand, moved behind the table where a set of large dark flames separated them from a door. With a breath, Harry moved through the flames and stood on the other side unharmed. Ron followed him, feeling even more like he might puke after taking the potion.

They reached the last door and opened, both of them with their wands raised.

Standing in the centre of the circular room, his hands forward rubbing together, was Professor Quirrell.

"You!" gasped Harry.

Ron felt the same way, out of everyone he had listed on his list of possible suspects, Quirrell wasn't on it. Professor Quirrell was one of the most cowardly wizards that Ron had ever known, it felt like a slap in the face for the Professor to be standing before them.

"Me," Quirrell said calmly, "I wondered if you would find me here, Potter. I was not expecting Weasley. But I should not be surprised after you foiled my first attempt."

"The troll," Ron guessed and Quirrell nodded.

"But I thought Snape did this!" Harry said.

Quirrell laughed. "He does seem the type, doesn't he? Who would suspect me when you could suspect him?"

"I didn't think Professor Snape did this," Ron said.

"Too smart for your own good, boy."

"He tried to kill me! Snape tried to kill me!" Harry said.

"No, I did," Quirrell sneered. "Severus only stopped me."

Ron's eyes widened. "You were sitting with him at Quidditch."

"Yes, and when your friend Granger lit him on fire, he nearly knocked me out of the stand."

"Snape was trying to save me?" Harry sputtered in disbelief.

"A waste of time it seems, considering you've come here to die anyway."

Ron gripped his wand tighter. "We aren't going to die to the likes of you."

Quirrell snapped his fingers, all at once ropes sprang from thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and Ron. Ron waved his wand at the last second, a reductor curse smashing into the wall behind Quirrell and peppering them all with debris.

"You dirty blood traitor!" Quirrell winced, wiping a small cut in the side of his cheek.

"You're both too nosy to live. Scurrying around and interfering in everything. And you," Quirrell pointed at Ron, "Stealing a girl's blood? I don't even want to know what you had planned with that."

Ron's eyes widened in … what!? He doesn't know about the girl!?

"Now wait quietly, you two," Quirrell said. "I need to examine this mirror before I decide on how to relish in your deaths. Somehow, this bloody mirror is the key to getting the stone. Trust Dumbledore to come with something like this."

"I've seen you and Snape talking," Ron said, "In the halls at night."

Quirrell turned and looked at Ron. "You have? How peculiar. He was trying to frighten me of course. He always thought I was the thief."

"I don't understand," Harry said again. "Snape hates me!"

"Oh yes, he was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? From what I gather, he hated him as well."

"Why are you working for Voldemort," Ron asked. "Don't you know what that means?"

A small flash of fear rushed across Quirrell's face. "Of course, I know what it means, you filthy traitor. My master is a great wizard and I am weak."

Harry's eyes widened. "Voldemort was in the castle!"

"He is with me wherever I go," Quirrell hissed. "I met him in Albania and we have not been separated since."

Quirrell turned his attention back to the mirror. "I don't understand what to do… help me master…"

To both Ron and Harry's shock a voice answered from inside Quirrel himself.

"Use the boy… use the boy…" the voice whispered.

"Yes, of course!" Quirrell looked back to Harry. "Potter, come here."

He clapped his hands and the ropes binding Harry fell aside.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked slowly towards him while Ron watched in shit shit shit shit shit.

Ron struggled against the robes that bound him rubbing them against his skin and making his hands raw.

"Well!" Quirrell hissed impatiently, "What do you see?!"

"I see myself, shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry said. "I've won the House Cup."

Ron stared at them both kind of mirror is that?

"Fuck!" Quirrell cursed. "Get out of the way boy!"

"He lies… he lies…" the whisper said again.

Ron's pulse quickened and his veins went ice cold. He recognized the voice. It couldn't be… but he recognized the voice.

"Let me speak to him… face to face…"

Quirrell frowned and turned away from them both, he reached up and unwrapped the turban from his head. Both Ron and Harry looked on in shock. Beneath the turban, stuck to the back of Quirrell's head was a terribly frightening face, chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils. It looked nothing like the handsome man that Ron remembered. Whatever Harry had done to Voldemort had taken its toll.

"Harry Potter…" it whispered. Its eyes drew over Harry and landed on Ron's face. The face's eyes seemed to widen. "You should not have brought him here…"

Harry turned to Ron and back again. "No, I shouldn't have. I should have faced you alone."

"That… is not what I meant…" Voldemort's eyes rested back on Harry. "See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour? Unicorn blood has strengthened me these past weeks. But now, I will be able to return in full with the elixir of life. Give me the stone in your pocket."

Harry's eyes seemed to widen and so did Ron's. Harry had the stone the entire time?What the fuck is going on?Maybe,he swallowed thickly,maybe Daphne was right.

"No," Harry said sternly.

"Don't be a fool," the face snarled. "Better to save your life and serve me or you'll meet the same end as your parents… they died begging for my mercy."

"That isn't true," Ron blurted.

"Liar!" Harry yelled in Voldemort's face.

"How touching… sticking together… I always value bravery…" the voice whispered. "Now give me the stone, unless you want to have your mother die in vain."

"Never!" Harry yelled again.

All at once, Quirrell turned around rapidly and closed his hands around Harry's wrist. Before Ron knew what was happening, both Harry and Quirrell were screaming, a bright light emanating from the section of skin where they had both touched.

"Seize him! Seize him!" Voldemort shrieked.

Quirrell pushed Harry over and held him to the floor with his knees. He took his hands away and looked at them in the light. Ron could see that they were red and can't touch?

"Kill him, fool, kill him and be done!" Voldemort screeched.

Quirrell raised his hands, but Harry, faster, had reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face. All at once they both started to scream again. Ron looked on in horror as Quirrell rolled off of Harry, his face blistering too. Harry followed close behind, catching Quirrell again by the arm and holding as tight as he could while they both screamed in agony.

Harry let go finally, falling aside from Quirrell, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. He lay nearly still on the floor while Quirrel seemed to seize beside him. All at once, Quirrell began to glow, and a large dark wisp rose from his body; when it had left entirely, Quirrell lay still; dead.

The wisp hovered in the air for a moment before it lurched forward and slammed into Ron's chest. All at once he was filled with a horrible pain, the kind of pain he imagined Quirrell and Harry had felt. His eyes clouded over with green and a voice filled his ears.

"No! No! No!" The voice screamed. It was Voldemort. "What are you, boy? What have you done to me!"

"I…" Ron whispered but couldn't speak. The pain was blinding, all-encompassing, impossible to describe.

"What are you doing to me!" The voice shrieked again.

Before Ron knew what had happened, the wisp had lurched out of him just as it had entered, the ropes falling away from him as it did so. The pain left him all at once, no marks barring his skin. The wisp floated upwards fast and violently, disappearing through a crack in the stonework.

Ron could only shiver. He was sure now more than he had been sure before. Voldemort was alive.

Carefully, he regained himself and tried his best to forget the pain. He stepped over to Harry and placed his hand on the neck of the boy-who-lived. He could feel Harry's pulse, it was strong. Strong enough that Ron wasn't worried he would die. He let out a relieved breath and touched his hand to Quirrell's neck. Quirrell was ice cold, so cold that Ron was sure he was dead. He was far colder than Sally Smith had been. Despite his coldness, Quirrell's entire body was covered in burns.

Ron carefully reached into Harry's pocket and latched his hand around a small round object. He pulled it out and examined it in the light. In his hand, was a large misshapen ruby, his heart beat fast. In his hand, was the Philosopher's stone. He thought for a moment of doing what Sal had suggested, of destroying it. But then… he swallowed… another thought bored into the back of his mind. Carefully, without a word, he slipped the stone into his own pocket.

Before Ron could even catch his breath, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond. His fingers clenched instinctively around his wand, his heart pounding in his ears. He positioned himself between Harry's unconscious form and the entrance. His grip tightened, his exhausted muscles screaming in protest.

The door swung open with a sharp creak, and his breath caught. Professor Snape stepped in first, his black robes billowing behind him like shadows stretching through the dimly lit chamber. His sharp, dark eyes immediately swept the room, narrowing as they landed on Quirrell's unmoving body. Behind him, Dumbledore followed, his expression unreadable. And trailing after them, her face pale and anxious, was Hermione.

Ron exhaled sharply, his knees threatening to give out. He lowered his wand.

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes locked onto him. "Mr. Weasley," he said, his voice measured but firm. "Explain."

"It was Quirrell," he said hoarsely. "He—he was helping Voldemort. Or—he was Voldemort." His head spun just trying to make sense of it. "He had him inside him, possessing him."

Snape's expression darkened and Ron knew at that moment that Snape of all people believed you aren't such a piss drinker.

Dumbledore's face remained calm, but something in his eyes flickered. "And Harry?"

Ron turned slightly, glancing down. "He's alive," he said quickly. "He killed Quirrell. To stop Voldemort from getting the stone."

Dumbledore's gaze swept to the lifeless professor, his hands folding behind his back. "I see." He sounded far sadder than Ron would have thought. Wasn't it a good thing? They had stopped Voldemort from returning? Ron felt his throat turn isn't… is he?

"But," Ron said quickly, trying his best to keep his voice steady. "They destroyed the stone… it's gone."

Snape's gaze flicked toward him sharply, his dark eyes unreadable, but he said nothing.

Dumbledore, however, nodded slowly. "Then it seems you and Mr. Potter have done something truly remarkable tonight."

Ron's eyes latched onto Hermione's. "Not without her help, sir," he said steadily.

"You have shown great bravery, all of you. You may have just saved the wizarding world from a terrible fate." Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, if you would be so kind as to escort Mr. Potter to the infirmary."

Snape's lips curled in disgust but he didn't protest. Instead, he simply strode forward and waved his wand over Harry's unconscious form. Harry lifted gently into the air and Snape took him from the room and back into the dark stone corridor.

Once Snape had left, Dumbledore turned back to Ron. "There's this most peculiar thing, Ronald. Something which I have yet to understand,"

"Oh?" Ron's pulse quickened.

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, but there was something else behind them. "You are a remarkably skilled Occlumens," he said, his voice quiet but clear. "Far beyond what I have encountered, even in those who have spent years mastering the art."

Ron felt his stomach drop. The knot in his stomach only worsened.

"That worries me."

Hermione frowned. "Occlumens?" she asked, her gaze darting between them. "But that's— that's a really advanced magical discipline. Hardly anyone can do it properly, let alone—" She turned to Ron, confusion written all over her face. "You?"

Ron just stared at her blankly.I'll explain… maybe…

Dumbledore didn't look away. "Indeed. You see," Dumbledore continued, his tone still gentle. "It's not often I meet a student with so much to hide."

Hermione looked at Ron again, she seemed uncomfortable. But Ron knew she wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as he felt. He tightened his grip on his wand again. Could he take Dumbledore? No, of course, he couldn't. But what happened if he wanted to know about Salazar? Was he supposed to just tell the truth?

"Can't a bloke have a few secrets, Professor?" Ron said dryly.

Dumbledore sighed, his hands folding neatly in front of him. "Ronald," he said, "let us speak plainly."

Ron's jaw tightened.

"Where is the Philosopher's Stone?"

His heart hammered in his chest. His hand twitched toward his pocket before he could stop it.

Hermione's head snapped between them, her frown deepening. "Wait—why are you—Ron?"

Dumbledore took a step closer. "I do not wish to pry more than necessary," he said softly. "But I must ask, for the safety of everyone: give me the stone, Ron."

Ron reached into his pocket and held the stone out to Dumbledore. Very carefully, Dumbledore plucked the stone from Ron's hand and inspected it in the light.

"I do not suspect you've taken this out of greed, Ronald. Which worries me more than it should. No, I suspect you've taken this for a selfless reason," Dumbledore said.

Ron glanced away.

"Selflessness can be just as dangerous. More so in the hands of a powerful wizard. Beware, Ronald, beware of the greater good. It's a mist, a haze to be lost in," with one last sorry look, Dumbledore placed the stone on the ground in between their feet. With a wave of his wand, the Philosopher's stone became nothing more than a pile of red-tinted dust.

"Now," Dumbledore said. "Let's get you all out of here."

Ron didn't dare to meet his eyes.