This is a work of fanfiction based on the characters and world created by J.K. Rowling in the Harry Potter series. All characters, places, and most magical elements belong to J.K. Rowling and the respective copyright holders. I do not own any of the original material, and this work is purely for fun and not for profit.
This fanfiction is a reinterpretation of the original story where there is virtually no conflict whatsoever and the relationships between the characters are wholesome and full of love. The content is intended for entertainment purposes only.
Chapter 16 Through the Trapdoor
In years to come, Harry would recall with vivid detail how he had managed to get through his exams when there was a serial killer on the loose with a score to settle with him. He trusted the Lord with all his heart and focused on studying to become the greatest wizard he could be. The days ticked by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.
It was pretty hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Anxiety spell.
They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox — points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, with bonus points added if they could create a logo on it that had whiskers. Snape put them all at ease, and watched proudly as he saw he had properly equipped all of them to remember and perfectly brew a Remembering potion.
Harry did the best of all of them, he'd been mentored by Snape the entire school year after all, and did so even with the pleasurable sensations in his forehead, which had been coming and going ever since his trip into the forest. Neville thought Harry had a great case of exam enthusiasm because Harry slept so well, but the truth was that Harry found a practical use for everything he had learned that year and it was so useful in fact that it was impossible to forget, although the unicorn tears may have helped some as well.
Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars pleasuring them on their foreheads, or perhaps didn't have a lot of experience trusting the Lord, but Ron and Hermoine seemed a bit worried about the Stone whereas Harry wasn't worried at all. The idea of Voldemort didn't even scare Harry, but he seemed to be visiting Ron and Hermoine in dreams, but they eventually got so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Voldemort might be up to.
Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about clever wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and self-emptying chamber pots and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry cheered with the rest.
"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermoine as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "Thanks to you two I even knew the answers to the questions about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct and the Enlightenment of Elfric the Excellent."
Harry and Ron always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Hermoine said this made her feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.
"No more studying," Hermoine sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You couldn't look more cheerful, Harry, and we've got a week before we find out how well we've done, what's got you so happy?"
Harry was rubbing his forehead.
"I wonder if the pleasure in my scar has something to do with our ascension… I just wish I knew what it means!" he said, wondering at the mystery of it all. "My scar keeps feeling really good — it's happened before, but never as often as this."
"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Ron suggested.
"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's an omen… it means something good's coming…"
Ron was happy to hear that.
"Harry, I believe you, Our God truly is an awesome God. Whatever's going to happen is going to be amazing. And there's no reason to worry about the Stone or Voldemort or grades, or anything at all, especially if Dumbledore's around. Anyway, I wonder if Snape and Quirrell ever figured out how to pet all three of Fluffy's heads at once… He nearly had it by growing a third arm but having to have it ripped off is something I imagine you only want to do once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. When it comes to brewing potions, they ought to consult Neville! I'm sure the three of them could figure something out, like maybe the third arm could shrink away and vanish after a few hours or something. You know, I wonder if Hagrid knows how to pet all three heads at once, we should go ask him! If we don't do everything we can to help, Snape will be really let down!"
Harry nodded, there was no way he was going to let Snape down. Snape had been mentoring him all semester and was the best teacher he'd ever had in his life. But he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain this, Hermoine said, "That's probably just the exams. I woke up last night, scrambled out of bed and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd already finished the exam that day!"
Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Harry got letters all the time, from Dudley, Vernon, Petunia, Piers, Mrs. Figg, Hagrid… Hagrid was amazing. Surely he would have figured out a way to pet all three of Fluffy's heads at once just as soon as Fluffy grew too big for his large hands… surely…
Harry suddenly jumped to his feet. "Draco's surprise!"
"How could we forget about that?!" exclaimed Ron.
"We'll give it to him later on this evening," said Harry.
"Agreed. Ready to go to Hagrid's?" asked Ron, excitement in his eyes.
"Born ready," said Harry. He had turned white. "Let's roll out!"
"Yay!" said Hermoine. They started walking.
"I can't wait to play with Norbert again too!" said Harry, walking up the grassy slope, "That's crazy that what Hagrid wanted more than anything else was a dragon, and a stranger turned up who just happened to have an egg in his pocket! How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's practically against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? I love it when things like that happen!" Harry started running towards Hagrid's, very excited to play with Norbert.
"Oh it's a race is it? You're on!" said Ron, and he, Harry, and Hermoine began sprinting across the grounds toward the forest.
Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl. Norbert was lying next to him, soaking up the sun.
"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"
"Yes, please," said Ron, and they all started petting Norbert. Harry looked up at Hagrid.
"Absolutely! We're not in a hurry or anything. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"
"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn't take his cloak off."
He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.
"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head — that's one o' the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."
Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas and started to help shell them.
"What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"
"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, smiling as he tried to remember. "Yeah… he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here…. He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after… so I told him… an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon… an' then… I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks…. Let's see… yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted… but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home…. So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…."
"And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Well — yeah — how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep —"
Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.
"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey — where're yeh goin?"
Harry, Ron, and Hermoine didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.
"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it might have been Voldemort under that cloak — it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't beat him to it. Where's Dumbledore's office?"
They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.
"We'll just have to —" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.
"What are you three doing inside? It's a beautiful day!"
It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.
"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermoine, rather bravely, Harry and Ron thought.
"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was something worth awarding House points for. "Why?"
Harry swallowed — now what?
"It's a sort of secret," he said. Professor McGonagall was fine with that.
"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said with a regretful tone. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."
"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"
"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time —"
"But this is important."
"I'm sure it is, but he was called by the Ministry of Magic, Harry. Is there something I could help you with?"
"There is," said Harry, nervous about what he was about to say, "Professor — it's about the Sorcerer's Stone —"
Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. Harry waved his wand and they floated back into her arms.
"How do you know —?" she asked.
"Professor, I think — I know — that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."
She eyed him with a mixture of shock and awe.
"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected. But if the three of you are that worried about it, I will put you on duty to guard it as well."
"Professor, that would be amazing, thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Harry. I know you three are the best for the job," she said kindly. "But it's honestly fine, I would suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."
But they didn't.
"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Voldemort is going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."
"But what can we —"
Hermoine gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round.
Snape was standing there.
"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.
"Good afternoon, Professor," said Harry.
"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an kind, pleasant smile.
"We were just talking to Professor McGonagall about — the Stone," Harry began, "We're worried someone is going to try to steal it. Professor McGonagall said we could stand guard but it really wouldn't be necessary."
"I don't know how you know about it, but the Stone is completely safe," said Snape. "But for finding out and showing concern for it, I will award Slytherin and Gryffindor 50 House points. Looks like Gryffindor is really in the lead this year, isn't it? Anyway, go stand guard or enjoy the sunshine, either way, enjoy yourselves!"
Harry flushed. They decided to trust that the Stone was safe. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.
"Be careful, Harry — the halls are dangerous at night but I trust you if you want to stand guard. Please take care, all of you."
He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.
Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.
"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape — wait outside the staffroom and follow him if he leaves it. Make sure he has everything he needs in order to have a great day. Hermoine, you'd better do that."
"Why me?"
"It's obvious," said Ron. "If Harry does it he'll give out more House points and run the risk of getting fired. We can't have that. But you can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got every question wrong, will there be a curve?'"
"That's actually a good idea, will there be a curve?" said Hermoine, and she agreed to go and watch out for Snape and make sure he had everything he needed in order to have a great day.
"And you know what, we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron. "Come on."
But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she was more pleased than ever.
"I really admire the initiative you are showing. I suppose you'll be harder to get past than any pack of enchantments!" she said proudly. "I can't get enough of your enthusiasm and dedication! That's 50 points to Gryffindor and Slytherin! If I hear you've come up with anything else to do or improve around the school, I'll add another fifty points to Gryffindor! And Slytherin! Yes, Weasley, to both Houses!"
Harry and Ron went back to the common room later that evening. Harry had just said, "I wonder how Hermoine and Snape's day went," when the portrait of the Sexy Lady swung open and Hermoine came in.
"I did it, Harry!" she exclaimed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, it turns out there will be a curve after all so I won't fail! After that I accompanied Snape and we had ice cream with waffle cones and we made a potion that attracts puppies! I don't know how Snape could have had a better day."
"That's great Hermoine, job well done!" Harry said. "You know…"
The other two stared at him. He was giddy and his eyes were glittering.
"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to make sure there are no lapses in security for the Stone."
"You're mad!" said Ron.
"What a great idea, Harry!" said Hermoine. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said they'll do, you'll win so many House points you'll have to be expelled so other students and Houses will have a chance to compete!"
"Wouldn't that be crazy?" Harry said. "Yeah there's no way I'm going to sit idly by and let Voldemort come back. Have you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There wouldn't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'd flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! No, not while I live and breathe. Voldemort killed my parents, so I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and making sure that there are no lapses in security. Never again!"
He smiled at them.
"You're amazing, Harry," said Hermoine in a small voice.
"I'll use the Invisibility Cloak," said Harry. "It's so lucky I have one in the first place."
"Will it cover all three of us?" said Ron.
"All — all three of us?"
"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"
"Of course not," said Hermoine briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, I've probably forgotten every spell I ever learned by now…."
"But if we get caught, you two will probably be expelled for earning too many House points to the point where no other students or Houses can compete for the House Cup, too."
"Not if I can help it," said Hermoine grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got the lowest score he's ever seen in his entire career as a teacher. I'm letting you know in advance: I'm probably going to mess this up. They're not going to be awarding me any points, I can assure you of that."
After dinner the three of them sat comfortably together in the common room. They had a great time talking to the other Gryffindors; everyone finished the semester strong just like Harry wanted. This was the first night he'd had a chance to consider and feel happy about it. Hermoine was skimming through all her notes, hoping to remember all the spells she'd forgotten. Harry and Ron talked and riffed with everyone. Both of them didn't really think about what they were about to do.
Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.
"Better get the Cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out the Cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy — he didn't feel much like singing.
He ran back down to the common room.
"We'd better put the Cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us — if Voldemort spots one of our feet wandering along on its own —"
"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.
"We're going to go protect the Stone, Neville, Voldemort is after it," said Harry, hurriedly putting the Cloak behind his back.
Neville stared at their faces.
"That's amazing, Do you want me to come?" he asked.
"No, that's alright, Neville," said Hermoine. "Would you mind waiting up for us here? Or you could go to bed if you like."
Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Voldemort might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.
"I'll wait up. I'm so proud of you guys," said Neville, "just be careful. Oh, imagine if you three actually stopped Voldemort, you'll earn so many House points the giant hourglasses will burst! Gryffindor will be legendary."
"That is exciting but this isn't about fame," said Harry, "this is about bringing a murderer to justice."
But Neville was clearly imaging the glory of it all.
"I'll support you every step of the way," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "Now, give me hugs and be on your way!"
"Neville," Ron exploded, "I love you, man! Get over here!"
"I love you too, Ron!" said Neville. "I don't think Voldemort stands a chance! Wasn't he scary to other wizards?"
"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperated admiration. "Neville, other wizards didn't know what they were doing."
He took a step forward and Neville gently set down Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.
"Go on then, try and hug me!" said Neville, raising his arms. "I'm ready!"
Ron hugged Neville deeply.
Harry turned to Hermoine.
"I want to hug him too!" he said desperately.
Hermoine stepped forward.
"Neville," she said. "I'm really, really glad we ran into you."
She raised her arms.
"Hug me, too!" she cried, her hands beckoning at Neville.
Neville's arms wrapped around her. His legs planted on the ground, he gently lifted Hermoine and swung her around in a circle. He then did the same to Harry.
Hermoine ran back to him for seconds. Neville was so flustered he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in admiration. Not to be outdone, Harry ran back to Neville as well and even wrapped his legs around him.
"What're you doing to him?" Hermoine whispered.
"It's the full Body-Bind," said Harry mischievously. "Oh, Neville, you're the best." He then kissed him on the forehead and climbed down.
Neville didn't know how to react to this.
"He had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Ron.
"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they walked past him and pulled on the Invisibility Cloak.
Leaving Neville waiting eagerly for their return felt like a very good omen. In their steeled state, every statue's shadow looked like Voldemort trembling in fear of them, and every distant breath of wind sounded like angels cheering them on.
At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris looking around making sure everything was okay near the top.
"Oh, let's take her with us," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. Dogs and cats were not a good mix. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.
They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, hammering down loose areas of the carpet so that people wouldn't trip.
"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his kind black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"
He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.
"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."
Harry decided to do what he always did, tell the truth.
"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "it's me, Harry. I'm going to go protect the Sorcerer's Stone. I have the full blessing of Professor McGonagall to do so."
Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.
"Oh, Harry that's so admirable!" he said quietly. "By all means, please carry on. Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like me to escort you to the third floor corridor?"
"That's okay, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Keep an eye out for Voldemort and alert Professor McGonagall right away should you see anything."
"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Harry, I'll watch out for you."
And he scooted off.
"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.
A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor — and the door was already ajar.
"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Voldemort's already got past Fluffy."
Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Underneath the Cloak, Harry turned to the other two.
"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the Cloak, I won't need it now."
"That's not happening," said Ron.
"We're with you every step of the way," said Hermoine.
Harry pushed the door open.
As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.
"What's that at its feet?" Hermoine whispered.
"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Voldemort must have left it there."
"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes…"
He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to drop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's playful growls ceased — it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.
"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the Cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.
"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermoine?"
"Um, that's okay."
"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.
"What can you see?" Hermoine said anxiously.
"Nothing — just black — there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."
Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself.
"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermoine so she can keep him asleep."
Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermoine began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.
Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.
He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"
"Right," said Ron.
"See you in a minute, I hope…."
And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and —
FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.
"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "It's a soft landing, you can jump!"
Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.
"What's this stuff?" were his first words.
"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermoine!"
The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermoine had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side.
"We must be miles under the school," she said.
"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.
"Super Lucky!" shrieked Hermoine. "Look at you both!"
She got up and slowly made her way toward a damp wall. She moved slowly because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils gently around her ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs had already been wrapped lovingly in long tentacles without their noticing. They were very comfortable. It was like being caressed by a giant tentacle monster that thought you were adorable.
Hermoine had managed to free herself because she thought the plant was kind of creepy. Now she watched in horror as the two boys didn't try to fight to pull the plant off them, they seemed to be enjoying the sensation.
"What are you doing? Don't you think it's gross?" Hermoine asked them. "I don't even know what this is — oh, it's so nasty!"
"This feels amazing!" said Ron, leaning back, trying to let the plant curl around his neck.
"Do we need to kill it?" asked Hermoine.
"No! I love this plant! I want one in my room!" Harry gasped, playfully wrestling with it as it curled tenderly around his chest.
"I can't help thinking we need to kill it though! It's so… icky!"
"Suit yourself!" Harry said, clearly enjoying himself. "I thought you wanted to come down here!"
"Yes — of course — but I really want to kill this plant!" Hermoine cried, wringing her hands.
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "THIS PLANT IS THE BEST! ARE YOU HERE TO HELP US OR NOT?"
"Oh, alright!" said Hermoine, and she dove head first into the plant, surrendering to it completely. The tickly tendrils whipped out and coiled around all of them, even picked them up and waved them around. They had an amazing time. Then the plant started to glow and in a matter of seconds, the three of them felt it loosening its grip as it began to glow ever brighter, bathing them all in light and warmth. Wriggling and tickling, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were left with a warm, fuzzy feeling.
"How awesome was that?" Harry chuckled as he got up, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis — 'I really want to kill it,' honestly."
"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.
All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With a pleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon — Harry could barely contain his excitement. Norbert was amazing enough, but a full-grown dragon…
"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.
Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.
"Do you think it's a ghost?"
"I don't know… sounds like wings to me."
"There's light ahead — I can see something moving."
They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.
"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.
"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… well, there's no other choice… I'll run."
He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.
The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermoine pleaded with it to open.
"Now what?" said Ron.
"These birds… they can't be here just for decoration," said Harry.
They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering — glittering?
"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean…" he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "…yes — look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"
"But there are hundreds of them!"
Ron examined the lock on the door.
"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle."
They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.
Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.
"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one — there — no, there — with bright blue wings — the feathers are all crumpled on one side."
Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.
"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above — Hermoine, stay below and stop it from going down — and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"
Ron dived, Hermoine rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermoine's cheers echoed around the high chamber.
They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned — it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.
"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.
The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.
They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron and Hermoine shivered slightly — the towering white chessmen had no faces.
"Now what do we do?" Hermoine whispered.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."
Behind the white pieces they could see another door.
"How?" said Hermoine nervously.
"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."
He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.
"Do we — er — have to join you to get across?"
The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.
"This needs thinking about…." he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces…."
Harry and Hermoine stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but Harry, Hermoine is better than you at chess —"
"I'm not offended," said Harry. "Just tell me what to do."
"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermoine, you go there instead of that castle."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.
The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, and Hermoine took.
"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes… look…"
A white pawn had moved forward two squares.
Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?
"Harry — move diagonally four squares to the right."
Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.
"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermoine, go on."
Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermoine were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.
"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think — let me think…"
The white queen turned her blank face toward him.
"Yes…" said Ron softly, "it's the only way… I've got to be taken."
"NO!" Harry and Hermoine shouted.
"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I'll make my move and she'll take me — that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"
"But —"
"Do you want to stop Voldemort or not?"
"Ron —"
"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"
There was no alternative.
"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go — now, don't hang around once you've won."
He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor — Hermoine screamed but stayed on her square — the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.
Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.
The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermoine charged through the door and up the next passageway.
"What if he's —?"
"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"
"We've had Sprout's, that was the Tickle Plant; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's…"
They had reached another door.
"All right?" Harry whispered.
"Go on."
Harry pushed it open.
A pleasant smell filled their nostrils, a mixture of cooking meat and pavement after it rains. They both gasped and looked at each other. Troll. Mouths watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.
"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Would it be weird if I said I wanted to know what troll tasted like? Come on, forget I said anything."
He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next — but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.
"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"
They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.
"Look!" Hermoine seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over her shoulder to read it:
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 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 forevermore,
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 onward, 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.
Hermoine let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he thought she would be doing.
"Brilliant," said Hermoine. "This isn't magic — it's a logic puzzle. I used to do these all the time before I came to Hogwarts. Heavens, if it was magic, I'd be stuck in here forever."
"I like logic puzzles too! Think we can figure it out?"
"Of course," said Hermoine. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."
"Okay so there are seven bottles. The two on the end won't help us, which leaves us the five in the middle."
"Yes, and the tiny one and the big one are safe."
"The two on the inside from each end are the same."
"Yes, and if they're the same, they must be the nettle wine."
"And to the left of them is poison."
"So we've got poison, wine, unknown, smallest, poison, wine, biggest."
"The smallest and biggest are okay to drink, so the unknown is the last poison and the smallest will let us advance!" said Harry confidently.
Harry knew this was sound but Hermoine still needed convincing. She read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.
"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire — toward the Stone."
Harry looked at the tiny bottle. Then he looked at Hermoine again.
"That's literally what I just said. But there's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."
They looked at each other.
"Do you know which one will get you back through the purple flames?"
Hermoine took a second, wrinkled her face and finally pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.
"You drink that," said Harry. "I'll drink the nettle wine bottles, unless you want one too. Now, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy — go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Voldemort off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."
"But Harry — what if You-Know-Who's a more powerful wizard than you?"
"Well — I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."
Hermoine's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.
"Hermoine!"
"Harry — you're a great wizard, you know."
"I'm not as good as Voldemort I'm sure," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.
"You'll be fine!" said Hermoine. "Trust the Lord with all your heart! There are more important things that you have that Voldemort doesn't — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!"
"You drink first," said Harry. Hermoine reached straight for the poison. Harry interrupted her thought process. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"
"Hmm, now I'm not so sure," said Hermoine. She read the paper again, looked at the bottles one last time and took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.
"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.
"Harry, stop. It's not poison — but it's like ice."
"Quick, go, before it wears off."
"Good luck — take care —"
"I will!"
Hermoine turned and walked straight into the purple fire, bursting into flames. She screamed. "Just kidding!" she said and walked out of sight.
Harry took a deep breath and picked up the nettle wine bottles, and drank deep. A little liquid courage, he thought to himself. Then he picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.
"Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.
It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them — for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire — then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.
There was already someone there — but it wasn't Voldemort. It wasn't even Snape or Dumbledore.