Chapter 17:

Rescue

Snape had out his wand and pointed it at the harp. Soft music filled the air and the next moment, Fluffy's growls had grown less and his eyelids drooped.

Snape bent and scooped up the invisibility cloak. His hand clenched around the slippery fabric. He stood. He was going to go after them.

A rush of air hit his ears moments before the remains of the trapdoor burst off its hinges.

Hermione Granger was on a broomstick with Ron Weasley. She jumped to the floor and Weasley tumbled off, unconscious.

Snape almost dropped his wand. "Granger!"

The girl gasped, her eyes widening when she saw him.

"Professor Snape!" Her voice was full of surprised horror as she tried to steady the limp Weasley. Weasley had a swollen, bleeding lump on his head.

Snape bent down. "What happened?"

"He- sacrificed himself- the-the queen captured him in the chess game- but, how can you be here? The-the Stone?" Granger stumbled over her words.

Snape ran a hand over Weasley's temple. He was alive, just knocked out. Snape's eyes went to the girl's frightened face.

"Where is Harry Potter? He went after him, didn't he?"

Hermione Granger was clearly terrified of Snape and couldn't speak.

"Please, miss Granger. His life may depend on it."

"The final challenge," she said timidly. "Your riddle. He-he told me to get Ron while he went on- but, Professor, if you're here, who did Harry meet?"

Snape shook his head. He dug into his robes and pulled out a small bottle filled with purple liquid. He poured a few drops into Weasley's mouth.

"Take Weasley up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will know what to do for him," Snape said. "And send Potter's owl after Dumbledore. She might intercept him."

"I was going to- yes, sir." Granger nodded, supporting Weasley. "What will you do?"

Snape stowed his wand in his sleeve. "I will get Potter."

"But-" Hermione said.

"Go!" Snape ordered.

She hurried off with the unconscious boy. Snape took the broomstick she had left. He mounted it and dove down the trapdoor opening.

The fleshy tendrils of the Devil's Snare just brushed his feet as Snape sped on down the dark passages. The damp air whistled by his ears. A fluttering of wings became audible as Snape entered the high arched chamber filled with hundreds of flying keys.

Snape hovered midair, scanning his eyes over the keys. He spotted a large gold key, barely flying ten feet above the floor, one wing hardly moving, as it was bent in half.

Snape was not the greatest at flying. He had never been best friends with a broomstick, but he gripped the handle and bent forward. Seconds later the key with the broken wing was stuffed into the keyhole and Snape was in the room with the giant wizard chessboard.

The white king turned and bowed to him. Snape told a black castling to leave and then took its place on the board. White made the first move with a pawn. Snape counteracted with a move of his own.

Severus Snape didn't have the chess skills of Ron Weasley, but he knew how to play a good game of chess. All the while Snape was distinctly aware of time trickling away.

Once he thought he heard screams and nearly stepped off his square. The queen shook her head at him. A bishop was sacrificed as a result.

Finally it came to the last move. Snape captured the queen. The king threw his sword at Snape's feet. The game was over.

The pieces bowed and Snape was off the chessboard and through the next door. There was no surprise waiting for him when he saw the fallen troll. Quirrell had a gift for dealing with trolls and knocking them out seemed to prove no problem to the man. Snape avoided the troll and entered the room with the last challenge, his own. Purple and black flames sprang up all around as soon as his hand left the door. Snape didn't pause. He withdrew a small bottle from his cloak, which matched the very last one on the table. One swallow and ice flowed through him. He stepped through the flames unharmed and then he was there.

In the center of the chamber stood the Mirror of Erised.

And on the floor were Quirrell and Harry Potter.

Quirrell was attempting to strangle the boy, who was grabbing at Quirrell's face. He screamed and Snape descended. Quirrell's skin was red and blistering as Snape wrenched him off Harry. Harry was cut and bleeding, his jumper torn and his glasses nearly snapped in half. Grasped in his hand was the Philosopher's Stone.

Harry was nearly unconscious. Snape wasn't sure if he even recognized him. The boy's eyes rolled and Snape caught him just before he fell, and clutched the boy protectively to his chest, almost unaware that he did so.

"It'll be alright, Harry," Snape said before he could stop himself. "It'll be alright."

There was a whirl of activity. Snape looked up. Into the chamber hurried Albus Dumbledore, out of breath and with his wand in his hand.

The relief Snape felt at the sight of the headmaster wasn't to be described. Visible relief settled over Dumbledore when their eyes met.

"Severus. Thank goodness," Dumbledore said when he reached Snape's side. "Your owl reached me just in time. And it seems you got to Harry just in time as well."

Snape could say nothing and only nodded, looking down at Harry Potter's face all covered with cuts and dried blood.

Dumbledore's hand reached out and gently slipped Harry's broken glasses from his face and placed them in Snape's hand.

Snape looked up.

The old, wise eyes twinkled back at him.

"You take care of Harry. I will take care of the rest," Dumbledore assured him.

Snape pocketed Harry's glasses and lifted the senseless boy to his shoulder. He only looked back to see Quirrell's still form on the ground and the headmaster bending over him. Quirrell was dead.

Snape was quickly out of the dungeon chambers and off to the third floor. Even with the added weight of little Harry Potter, he moved swiftly and using the castle's passages and shortcuts to his advantage, Snape was quickly in the hospital wing.

Madame Pomfrey was already up and fussing over Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

"I'm fine, honestly," Granger was saying. "Just a few bruises, that's all."

"You're staying here until the morning," Madam Pomfrey was insisting.

"Madame Pomfrey," Snape announced.

Hermione jumped.

The nurse turned his way.

"I have another patient for you."

Snape took Harry from his shoulder and gently lowered him onto a spare bed. Hermione gave a cry and almost sprang forward. Madame Pomfrey tutted and the girl sat back on the bed.

"You rest now," Pomfrey said. She began tending to Potter and cleaning his wounds.

Granger wiped a hand over her eyes and sniffed. Shyly, she looked up at Snape.

"He'll be fine," he said softly.

She sniffled again, then nodded her head.

Snape took another glance at Harry's motionless face. His young face, still so much a little boy. The little boy who had almost died. Snape took Harry's pair of glasses out of his pocket and set them on the table beside the bed, tugging the frame back into shape as he did so.

"You should go to bed, Professor," Madame Pomfrey said. "All is under control here."

Snape nodded, a wave of fatigue coming over him. His fingers brushed Harry's black hair, then he slowly and wearily limped down to his office in the dungeons.

† † † †