Chapter 10, everybody! First update of the year, and the decade for that matter—now let us hope it's not the last *bricked*
Took some cues from the PC game for the obstacles here (hated the gnomes in the games). And it occurred to me that since Harry is going up against who he's expecting, he won't be caught flat-footed upon realizing it isn't Snape, so….And yes, I know "sorcered" isn't a word, bear with my puns please. ^^;
Thanks for the review, d8rkforcen1ght7! Aha, glad you can picture it so well. :D
Harry Potter © JK Rowling
Exams were as strenuous as everyone had told them they would be.
Harry felt like someone had stolen his brain right before every exam, and he had to wring out what little information was left, especially with History of Magic. The rest he felt fairly okay about, but not enough to be calm about them until he got his marks back.
Potions, at least, he felt fairly certain of.
Defense against the Dark Arts, not so much—he tried to take Dumbledore's advice to heart about not tipping Quirrell off, but he found it very difficult to act natural with his scar aching every time he was in the same room as the man. That particular exam couldn't end soon enough in his opinion.
But finally—finally—the exams were all finished and they had nothing better to do than sit around the Black Lake and fret about marks, summer vacation (in Harry's case), and the persisting issue of Professor Quirrell and the Sorcerer's Stone.
"So we're all going to write each other over the summer," Ron said. "Maybe we can arrange it so we'll all be in Diagon Alley at once."
"Oh that'd be lovely—I'd love to have more time in the bookstores there," Hermione said, throwing a slice of bread into the water. A few fish nibbled at it before the giant squid claimed the slice as its own.
"Of course you would. Harry?"
Harry was absently rubbing his scar, which had not ceased aching even with being away from Professor Quirrell. "I'm not sure—my aunt and uncle aren't exactly…enthused about getting owls."
"I'm certain they'll get used to it," Hermione assured him.
Snips, meanwhile, tipped his head at Harry, blinking slowly like he had said something confusing.
"I don't know," Harry said, sitting up. "I can't help but worry about Professor Quirrell—if the Sorcerer's Stone is safe in Hogwarts…what happens during summer vacation? Would it be easier to get to then?"
"The school doesn't disappear just because no one's in it, Harry."
"We don't know that," Ron said. "We have whole corridors and stairs and doors disappear depending on the day—who's to say the whole castle doesn't vanish in the summer, and that's why we're sent home?"
"Because it doesn't," Hermione insisted. "It would have been in Hogwarts, A History."
"Maybe," Harry noised—looked at Snips when he squawked and waved at Harry, then proceeded to act like he was stroking a long beard.
"We could ask Dumbledore," Ron said, pointing at Snips. Snips pointed back at him. "And then we can ask about the Sorcerer's Stone too—he said we could."
Harry considered this, nodded—followed the other two up to the castle and through the doors—
Stopped and ducked into a side passage when a decidedly unshaken Professor Quirrell went by—was he humming?
"He looked too happy," Ron said, once it was safe.
"Agreed," Harry said. "Come on—we need to get to Professor Dumbledore."
They ran into Professor McGonagall first though.
"What are you three doing indoors on a lovely day like today?" she asked.
"We need to see Professor Dumbledore, ma'am," Hermione said.
"Well I'm afraid he's away on business—"
It took about a minute for her to restore order.
"Now hold it!" she said sternly. "Whatever it is, I'm certain you can tell your own head of house!"
They exchanged glances—
"We know about the Sorcerer's Stone," they said, looking at her.
Probably the wrong thing to say, considering Professor McGonagall dropped her books at that. "How do you—"
"We figured it out months ago, it's in danger, we think Professor Quirrell is getting ready to steal it!" Harry blurted.
Still probably the wrong thing to say. "Now look here, you three—that is a serious accusation concerning matters you shouldn't even know about—"
"Professor, please—when is Professor Dumbledore coming back?"
"He didn't say, it was ministry business, and I had better be seeing you three outside enjoying the weather and not leveling accusations, or discussing things you shouldn't, or running off to corridors you shouldn't be in!"
With them told, the three students (plus one small question mark) found themselves hustled back outside.
"Now what?" Ron asked.
"This is terrible!" Hermione said, wringing her hands. "That's why Professor Quirrell's so happy! Dumbledore was the only wizard You-Know-Who feared, and with him gone—"
"The Sorcerer's Stone is wide open," Harry said.
Ron paced a bit. "Um…okay, we don't know that for sure—maybe Dumbledore listened to us and added fresh protection to it. Something different that Quirrell wouldn't know about."
Harry doubted it—it was in his experience that adults never quite believed kids when they protested or told them something, more inclined to believe other adults over them. No, he didn't think they could count on Dumbledore to have done as they asked.
Snips started squawking in pure unbridled irritation.
"Snips is right," Harry said. "We can't run the risk of Quirrell getting the stone—we have to go after him."
Snips slapped himself in the face so hard that he knocked himself clean off of Harry's shoulder.
They agreed that Quirrell would most likely attack the stone at night, when most of the castle was sleeping. They made sure to have their wands, and Harry picked up the owl flute and invisibility cloak he had gotten for Christmas.
Now, it was simply a matter of getting to the stone and hoping they were capable of doing so.
The first hiccup was Neville trying to stop them—that was surprising, and resulted in Hermione actually being very terrifying.
The second hiccup was that there was already a harp playing in Fluffy's room—Quirrell had already been here.
The third hiccup came when they dove down through the trapdoor and encountered the first of the traps, which had Harry lamenting not bringing Neville and Ron being the levelheaded one in the face of mortal peril.
Hermione's bluebottle flames were very impressive, though, and were just as effective on malignant plants as they were rogue teachers.
The next issue was a very strange one, and one that Harry had only seen in fictional books.
"Um, hello," he tried.
The sphinx looked up from grooming her paw to evaluate them. "Hello," she said. "Mighty crowded down here tonight."
Harry nodded. "Did someone in a turban come down here before us?"
"Yes, he was very rude, but answered my riddle." She put her paw down and narrowed her eyes at them. "I trust you will be more polite?"
"Of course ma'am."
"Only a complete dunderhead would be rude to a sphinx," Ron said.
"Well reasoned," the sphinx said, before standing. "Now—I will ask my riddle. Through me is the only way forward. If you answer wrong, I will attack. If you attack me, I will attack. Are you ready for my riddle?"
"Um," Harry noised, raising a hand. "Is it one riddle for all three of us?"
"I suppose that's fair."
Harry nodded, looked to Hermione.
"Okay," she said, smoothing down her robes. "Okay—I can do this—I'm ready."
Ron and Harry had to eventually remind both Hermione and the Sphinx that they were trying to stop an evil wizard, although they promised the sphinx they'd ask Dumbledore about doing this again sometime.
"Please do," the sphinx said, waving. "It's nice to come across someone I can sharpen my wit instead of my claws on—most other sphinxes already know the answers to each other's riddles."
"Oh do tell," Hermione said.
"Later," Ron said, tugging her to the door. "After we're done with the current crisis."
The next several rooms involved flying keys (Harry chased down the one they needed on a broom), a labyrinth loaded with fire crabs and gnomes (Ron was very effective against the latter), a room full of doxies with different-colored keys around their necks (Hermione froze them all and took the keys easily enough), and a giant chess set that Ron was able to mostly navigate them through, except for the snag of having to sacrifice himself for Harry to take the king. Harry told Hermione to take Ron back to the hospital wing and owl for help, and after a brief argument it was just him and Snips heading forward.
The next room had a giant troll that was fortunately unconscious, and then after that it was a room full of water and platforms and something that looked like evil octopi, mostly blasted to smithereens. Harry was starting to suspect that Professor Quirrell was starting to run out of patience.
The next room was fortunately bare of any monsters, and mostly involved Harry and Snips moving stars around on the walls to make the proper constellations. The rooms after that had the doors blasted off their hinges, but Harry paused long enough to note the different languages and mathematics scribbled on the walls.
Honestly, at this point Harry was torn between aggravation at all the rooms that Quirrell had obviously already progressed through and kind of chuffed that there were so many. At the very least, maybe it meant that Dumbledore had listened to them.
The next room had no doors to blast off, instead shooting up different-colored flames when Harry entered. On the table in front of them were a bunch of different sized and shaped bottles and a sheet of paper. Harry picked up the paper, read through it, reread it—looked at the bottles….
"These are all potions—well, mostly potions," he said, looking back at the line about mulled wine. "This one must have been the old Potions Professor's test."
Snips made an affirmative noise, looked over the paper again before immediately flying over to the smallest bottle on the table. Wrap his tail around it—
Squawk when the bottles all shrank down to that size and started moving rapidly around the table.
"Woah! Snips, are you okay?" Harry asked, running over. The potions finally came to a halt, and Snips, who had not let go of the bottle during that time, laid there with claws dug into the table, scratch marks left behind in the wood. He made a nervous warble as Harry picked him up, tail still wrapped tight around the bottle.
"Well at least you still have this," Harry said, taking the bottle—the others resumed their normal size and color, but the one in Harry's hand still stayed small. "There's barely enough for one, though."
Snips waved him off, tugged the cork out, lapped up a little of the potion before indicating that Harry drink the rest. Harry did so—shivered at the feeling of ice dousing him—continued forward.
Snips stopped him once they were past the fire, tugging on his cloak pocket—Harry pulled the invisibility cloak back out, wrapped it around himself, Snips sitting on his shoulder as they continued on—
Harry quickly plastered himself against the wall upon reaching the end of the hall—Professor Quirrell was up ahead.
And Harry knew for a fact that invisibility cloaks didn't work on the particular mirror the professor was standing in front of.
Okay—now what?
It occurred to Harry then that—while keeping Quirrell from getting the stone was important—he had not actually given much thought as to how he was going to achieve that once he was in the moment of truth. Pull out his wand, thinking….
Snips tapped him on the face, made a very familiar movement with his claw before stiffening. Harry's mind immediately snapped to earlier in the evening—
Slip his wand out from under the cloak, point it at Quirrell, and hiss "Petrificus Totalus!"
Quirrell's limbs snapped to his sides and he went down, stiff as a board and cursing floridly. Harry glanced at Snips again—
Quirrell finally shut up under several rapid hexes and jinxes. Harry watched, stiff from terror, adrenaline starting to leave him shaking….
Finally put up a few fingers for Snips to high-five.
Mission accomplished.