The sun had only just set when Quirrell finally stood up. They had been waiting in the unused classroom all day; Harry's stomach had been grumbling, but he hadn’t bothered to ask for food. Quirrell seemed content just sitting on his chair, arms resting on his thighs. Neither of them had spoken again, and it had been a long and boring wait. But Quirrell’s sudden movement did startle Harry slightly; he hadn’t expected the Professor to suddenly get up and pull his wand out of his pocket.
Quirrell pointed his want at Harry and said, “Time to go.”
Harry wanted to argue, but what was the point. He stood up and moved across the room. The closer he got to the Professor, the more uncomfortable he felt; it was like his body didn’t like being that close to the possessed man.
“No funny business,” grumbled Quirrell.
Harry just nodded and walked.
The castle was dark and quiet. Every student would be in their Common Rooms by now, most teachers in their own rooms, a few teachers would be doing their nightly patrols. It took him a moment to realise that as they walked through the corridors that he made no noise, Quirrell seemed to have cast a few charms to conceal their movements. However, when they reached the third-floor corridor, the wall sconces sensed their presence and burst to life.
The wand pointing into his back forced Harry to continue walking until they reached the last door at the end of the corridor. Quirrell stepped up to the door and unlocked it, allowing it to swing open.
Harry hadn’t seen the massive three-headed dog that Harvey had informed he was called Fluffy. He had assumed that maybe the three first years had exaggerated but no. Before them stood a massive, absolutely gigantic monster. The three heads locked eyes with them and started to growl; drool collected in the mouth of the head on the left, and it started to drip down the side of its mouth. Harry went to take a step back, intent on making sure Quirrell was the one that got eaten when Quirrell stepped past him and produce a small harp from his pocket. With a wave of his wand, the harp grew to full size and then started to play itself. The large beasts growls faded, and its eyes started to droop. It slumped where it stood, a soft snore falling from each of the three heads.
Quirrell let out a small huff of triumph and approached the beast. In its current position, one of its large paws was covering the trap door. With another wave of his wand, Quirrell moved the paw and leant down to open up the trap door. He looked up at Harry and nodded his head.
Harry frowned. “You want me to jump down a black hole?”
Quirrell smirked. “Better you than I.”
Harry approached the trap door and cringed. He knew that a number of teachers had assisted Dumbledore with the protections; he could be leaping down into any sort of trap.
“If it helps, as long as you cooperate, I won’t turn around and head to find your little brother. Perhaps I’ll kill him while he sleeps soundly in his bed, or maybe I’ll tie him up here and let Hargid’s pet enjoy a nice tasty treat,” said Quirrell.
Harry knew he had no choice. Quirrell was a teacher, which meant he knew the password for Gryffindor Tower and could get to Harvey. Looking back down into the black beyond the trap door, he let out a sigh before sitting down on the edge. Taking a breath, he slid off. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down and down. He seemed to fall for a short while before he finally landed on something strangely soft.
The room around him was dark, the air felt heavy, and the light was almost non-existent.
“You still alive?” came Quirrell’s voice.
Harry pondered, not replying. If Quirrell though he was dead, maybe he would give up? Harry dismissed the idea immediately; Quirrell wasn’t stupid. “It seems so,” he called back.
Quirrell lept through the door and, after a moment, landed with a thump beside Harry. He shifted where he sat and grumbled, “What is this now?”
Harry felt something slid against his hand. He pulled it to his chest and frowned. The same slithering sensations crossed his legs, but before he could move, snake-like tendrils wrapped tightly around him. “Shit.” He tried to pull at the tendrils, but their grip only tightened. He glanced up to see Quirrell was also being bound by whatever they had landed on.
Quirrell held up his wand. “Incendio.” The flames burst out and hit whatever had grabbed them. The tendrils that had wrapped itself so tightly around his thighs released and retracted, allowing Harry to jump up.
“What was that?” he asked.
Quirrell frowned. “Devil’s Snare; this would be Sprout’s doing.” He straightened his cloak before walking away from Harry towards a small opening. “Hang around too long, and it will come back.”
Harry followed the man reluctantly. They walked for a short time; the only sounds were their footsteps echoing off the cobblestone ground and water trickling down the walls. The passage sloped downwards before widening. A soft rustling and clinking filled the air, and Quirrell paused. He didn’t say anything, but after a moment, moved forward at a faster pace.
The end of the passageway was a brilliantly lit chamber with high arched ceilings. The bright light caused Harry to pause for a moment and let his eyes adjust to the suddenly bright light. The rustling noise he had heard appeared to be small jewel-bright birds that were fluttering and tumbling around the room.
“Interesting,” said Quirrell. He walked across the room to a large wooden door. He placed his hand on the wood and said, “We need to find the key.”
Harry asked, “And where would we find it?”
Quirrell smirked at him. “We have plenty to pick from.” He gestured to the birds.
Harry squinted and looked at the fluttering things more closely. They weren’t birds at all but keys, winged keys.
“I’m glad I bought you, Mr Black. After all, you are the best Seeker Hogwarts has seen in many years.” Quirrell walked over to a wall and picked up a broomstick. He held it out to Harry with a smug smile.
Harry took the broom and mounted it. He kicked off into the air and looked around at the hundreds of keys. They all darted away from him, avoiding getting too close. He knew that the key they would need wouldn’t just be any key; there had to be a specific one he would need to catch. After a minute of weaving through the whirl of keys, he noticed a large silver key that stuck out from the rest. It looked old, just like the lock on the door, and it seemed to be surrounded by a swarm of the smaller keys.
Taking a chance, Harry took off on the old broom to try and catch it. The keys seemed to notice his actions, and rather than avoid his touch, they swarmed him, trying to distract him and look track of the key. The large silver key shot off on his own, diving and swinging around in every direction. Harry waved his arm to knock of few keys out of his eye line and chased it. He reached out his hand and caught the key; one of the wings got caught between his fingers and bent slightly. The smaller keys dispersed, leaving Harry be. He floated down to where Quirrell was waiting by the door and handed over the key. The door unlocked with a loud click and started to swing open; the large key removed itself from the door and flew off, it’s bent wing making it struggle.
Quirrell pushed open the door the rest of the way and stepped into the next chamber. He disappeared into the darkness, but then reappeared as the room around him began to glow with light. Harry followed after him and took in the large room. He was surprised to see that the room itself was a huge chessboard; massive black and white stone pieces stood facing one another on either side of the board.
Taking a stepped onto the board, the black King turned to look at Quirrell. Quirrell laughed and said, “What an interesting test.”
Harry waited for Quirrell to demand that he step up to complete the challenge, which Harry assumed was to win the game, but Quirrell didn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat and waited. White always moved first in chess.
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Harvey had found it difficult to relax. There was no sign of Harry, no sign of Quirrell, and he was planning on jumping through a trap door that could lead to Merlin knows what. All they knew was that after getting past Fluffy, a serious of spells and enchantments would be awaiting them, but they had to get there first.
Somehow Harvey had made it through the rest of the day and dinner. He had also had to ask Dylan to get his invisibility cloak back. He had given it to Harry to make sure Ron wasn’t tempted to take it and go to the third floor, but now he needed it to do that very thing. He was a little surprised when Dylan hadn’t questioned it, simply collected it from Harry’s things and handed it over. Harvey would be lying if he said that he wasn’t nervous, but he needed to be courageous.
The trio sat in the Gryffindor Common Room until late. Students made their way to bed slowly, and when curfew passed, Percy gave the three of them a stern look and told them to go to bed soon. They had made sure to spread out their textbooks to make it look like they were studying for their exams, but Harvey wasn’t sure if he had ever actually turned a page or not.
Hermione was the first one to close her books. She glanced around the room and said, “I think it should be safe by now.”
The boys followed suit, packed up their stuff before Harvey pulled the invisibility cloak out from beneath the couch cushion he had stuffed it under. They moved over to the portal, and they all seemed to look at one another, nod, and agree that they could do this. Harvey threw the cloak over the three of them; they moved in close to one another so that the cloak could reach all the way to the ground before they left the common room.
Every step they took seemed to be too loud; Harvey was conscious of how loud every breath they took was, and even though the corridors seemed empty, the portraits were sleeping; they knew it was possible that they could run into a teacher or Filch. If Harry wasn’t missing, he wouldn’t be doing this; someone needed to protect the stone while everyone else found his big brother. Harry might be annoyed at him, but Harvey knew he would understand.
The reached the third-floor corridor, and Harvey paused. The sconces around them sparked to life as they paused in the hallway, and Hermione nudged him.
She whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Harvey frowned. “Nothing.” He didn’t want to admit that he was scared; the dog behind the door had been scary enough the first time, but now they had to put it to sleep and go through other obstacles that were probably way worse.
They reached the door, and Harvey felt dread when he realised it wasn’t locked. The door swung open and revealed a sleeping Fluffy. The large three-headed dog was snoring softly as a light melody played through the room. Pulling off the cloak, Harvey said, “Quirrell’s already been here.”
Hermione walked closer to the dog. “Out cold, do you think perhaps the music put him to sleep?”
Ron had walked over to the harp that was sitting in the corner. It was playing itself. “Seems he charmed the harp.”
Harvey didn’t like that they had been right. Quirrell had used Harry’s disappearance as a distraction. He moved over to Hermione, and they knelt by the trap door. Ron joined them, helped them lift it up.
“Who wants to go first?” asked Ron.
Harvey moved to sit on the edge of the door, his feet dangling down the hole. “Here goes nothing.”
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The victorious laugh that Quirrell let out as he checkmated the white king disturbed Harry. The man was clearly mad, but Harry also seemed to believe that he was enjoying the challenge. With each room they cleared, they were one step closer to the stone. Harry had wondered if anyone had checked the third-floor; had Snape looked in to find Fluffy asleep and alerted Dumbledore? Would there be someone waiting when they got to the stone? He hoped there would be. But the doubt that there wouldn’t be was growing.
Quirrell turned around to face Harry from the other side of the chessboard. He smirked and said, “Only two rooms to go. Mines up next, I believe.” He gestured with his wand for Harry to move ahead first.
He crossed the board and walked over to the large door. Pushing it open, Harry cringed at the disgusting smell that filled his nose. It made his eyes water, and he wanted to gage. A groan of anger caught his ears, and he saw a troll. It was huge, bigger than the one he had stunned on Halloween, and it was glaring right at him.
Quirrell stepped up beside him as the troll stepped to move towards them. He raised his wand and said, “Stupefy!”
The spell hit the troll’s chest, sending it stumbling backwards, but it didn’t fall. The impact only seemed to piss it off.
“Stupefy!” Quirrell yelled again.
The spell hit the troll’s head this time; it let out a nasty groan and stumbled forward. It raised up its massive club as it growled at us.
“Stupefy!”
The third time worked. The spell hit the trolls head, which caused it to sway. The club it was holding over its head slipped from its fingers and whacked its own head. The impact seemed to be enough because the troll fell forward unconscious.
Quirrell huffed and straightened his cloak. “Pathetic creature.” He crossed the room, not giving the troll another glance and pushed open the door. “Move it, Black.”
Harry sighed and followed. As the door closed behind them, Harry was glad that he could breathe clearly again. The odour of the troll had been horrendous.
Taking in the room before him, Harry knew it was Snape’s challenge. Before them was a table lined with seven differently shaped bottles. As they moved closer, a fire sprang up along the doorway, blocking them in. The same happened to the door ahead of them. The only difference was the colour of the flames; the door behind them was purple, and the door ahead of them was black.
“Interesting,” mumbled Quirrell.
On the table beside the bottles was a rolled-up piece of parchment. Quirrell picked it up and read it out aloud.
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Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind.
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find.
One among us seven will let you move ahead.
Another will transport the drinker back instead.
Two among our number hold only nettle wine.
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.
Choose, unless you wish to stay here 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 onwards, neither is your friend;
Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,
Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.
Harry smirked as Quirrell finished. Of course, Snape would have choice logic over magic. The question was, however, if Quirrell would be able to solve it. If he turned to Harry, it was possible that Harry could give Quirrell one of the bottles that contained poison, but it seemed that the bottles held enough for more than one person to consume. That meant Quirrell would probably make him drink it first.
Looking over the potions and considering Snape’s riddle, Harry noted that it was the smallest vial that contained the potion they would need. It made Harry tense when Quirrell lifted it up and smiled before holding it out to Harry.
“It only seems right that you risk your life when facing your teacher’s test,” said Quirrell.
Harry took the vial. “Scared that you aren’t smart enough to solve Snape’s riddle?”
Quirrell chuckled. “No, but if for some reason, I did pick the wrong bottle, and it is poison, then you will die, and I have another chance.”
Clenching his jaw, Harry pulled out the cork of the vial and took a sip. As he swallowed, Harry braced himself for something to happen. He didn’t collapse and choke, so it wasn’t poison, but a freezing sensation washed over him. He handed the vial back to Quirrell before walking over to the next door. He stepped into the black flames and was relieved when they didn’t burn him.
Quirrell smirked from behind him and took a sip of the potion himself. He put the vial down and followed Harry into the black flames before opening the door and shoving Harry through.
Harry caught himself and managed to keep his feet as they entered the next chamber. The room was a large oval room and in the centre stood a familiar-looking mirror. It sat in the centre, down a few steps to a lower part of the room.
Quirrell let out a sigh and walked past Harry and down the steps. “Finally,” he said. “This is the last thing in my way.”
Harry knew that the mirror wasn’t just any mirror. It had to be the same one that he had found Harvey in front of. He knew that it seemed to show you want you wanted most. But how was it hiding the stone; what would Quirrell need to do to get it? Harry needed a way to keep the stone from Quirrell; if there was a way that he could bide time until someone decided to come down and check on the stone or find the bloody dog unconscious.
Looking around the room, there was nothing that he could use. Harry had no wand and no options. Unless he could someone get Quirrell’s wand out of his hand. The man probably had some use of wandless magic, but at least with a wand, Harry might be able to even the playing field. Or at least temporarily knock the man out.
“This is strange,” said Quirrell. “I see myself holding the stone. But I don’t actually have it. How interesting.”
Harry moved towards Quirrell. The man had his wand in his pocket; it was sticking out of his cloak on his right-hand side. Even though he was standing in front of the mirror, Harry hoped that it wouldn’t reflect him. After all, the mirror showed the person standing before it what they desired, not what was around them. This, of course, was only a theory, and he could regret his actions in a few moments.
Quirrell’s eyes were trained on the mirror. He was grumbling to himself, clearly trying to find the key to the mirror. He hadn’t even considered looking back at Harry since his eyes had locked onto the glass. Harry made it down the steps and carefully closed the space between them. Quirrell’s wand was still sticking out; Harry would need to be quick.
He reached out his hand; he was mere inches away from the wand now. Quirrell shifted in his spot, and Harry froze. The man didn’t seem to notice him, though. Harry moved his hand closer and felt the wood touch his finger. He just needed to get his fingers around the handle.
The door to the room swung open, and it caused Quirrell to turn, the wand moving away from Harry’s fingers. Quirrell grabbed Harry by his shirt and glared at him.
“Nice try, Black.” With more force than Harry thought the man could possess, he threw Harry across the room. He landed on the stairs, his already concussed head hitting the stone stairs.
“Harry!”
Harry frowned. That was Harvey’s voice. He turned to see it was Harvey who had come through the door. What was he doing down here?
“Harvey Potter, how nice of you to join us.” Quirrell’s smug smirk had returned.
Harry wanted to yell at his brother to run, but he didn’t know if he could find the words to speak. His head was throbbing, and the room had started to spin.
“You. How could you!” exclaimed Harvey. “I thought it was Snape at first.”
“Severus?” Quirrell laughed. It was cold and sharp. “Yes, he does seem like the type, doesn’t he? But no.”
“So it was you who tried to kill me,” said Harvey.
Quirrell nodded. “Yes. And it would have worked if it wasn’t for your friend setting Snape’s cloak on fire. Another few seconds and I would have had you off your broom.” He sighed. “It was a waste of time for Snape to try and save you. After all, I’m just going to kill you now.”
Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly are Harvey.
“You’re too nosy to live, Potter. You and your friends always getting in my way. Like on Halloween night. For all I knew, you had seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone.”
“So you did let the troll in?”
“Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls—you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape apparently already suspected me and went straight to the third floor to head me off—and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off properly.”
Quirrell turned back around to face the mirror. “Now, be silent while I try and work out what this mirror is for.”
Harry tried to sit up; he needed to find a way to help Harvey and stop Quirrell. He managed to pull himself up and noticed Harvey look at him.
“You okay?” he asked.
Harry tried to show him an encouraging smile. “Yeah, fine. Did you come alone?”
Harvey sighed. “Ron and Hermione were with me, but Ron got hurt on the chessboard. Hermione has gone back to help him and contact Dumbledore.”
Harry frowned. “Why didn’t you do that instead of coming down here?”
“You were missing,” snapped Harvey. “Everyone has been looking for you, and when we found Fluffy already asleep, I knew that Quirrell could have already made it down here, and I was right.”
Harry sighed. He wanted to be made at Harvey for getting himself in a stupid situation, but then again, Harry had got himself in it too. Both of them should have stayed out of the whole thing.
“I told you to be silent!” yelled Quirrell. He had turned to glare at the brothers.
“Oh, I’m sorry that you are too stupid to work it out,” grumbled Harry.
Quirrell smirked. “Is there something you know that I don’t?”
Harry shrugged. “Why don’t you just ask your master?”
Harvey frowned. “What?”
“You don’t want to know,” mumbled Harry.
It was still freaking him out that Voldemort had attached himself to Quirrell. It was bloody creepy.
“Your brother would be referring to how my master is with me where I go,” said Quirrell. “I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it.”
Harry and Harvey glanced at each other. Both of them not really wanting to listen to the man go on.
“Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He doesn’t forgive mistakes easily.” Quirrell shivered. “When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me…decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…”
Quirrell trailed off. He turned back to the mirror and huffed.
“This mirror is the key to getting the stone, but how?”
Harry frowned; he needed to think of something. Quickly.
“Use the boy.”
The raspy voice that Harry had heard once before made both Harvey and Harry pause.
“Use the boy.”
Quirrell turned and waved his hand. The ropes around Harvey disappeared.
“Come here, boy.” Harvey glanced at Harry but slowly moved over to Quirrell.
Harry wanted to jump up and stop him, but the room spun harshly when he tried.
“You stay there, Black.” Quirrell pointed for Harvey to stand in the centre of the mirror. “What do you see?”
Harry watched as Harvey closed his eyes before opening them again. For a few moments, Harvey stared silently. Harry wondered what he was seeing.
“Well? What do you see?” asked Quirrell impatiently.
Harvey cleared his throat. “I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I—I’ve won the House Cup for Gryffindor.”
Quirrell cursed and shoved him out of the way. He started to pace across the room when the voice spoke again.
“He lies…he lies…”
“Potter, come back here!” Quirrell reached for Harvey again.
“Let me speak to him…face to face…”
“Master, you are not strong enough.”
“I have strength enough…for this…”
Harvey looked startled. Harry couldn’t help but cringe as Quirrell sighed and reached up to unwrap his turban. Harvey glanced at his brother; Harry could see the question in his eye, but how did one explain the type of possession. It was something you would need to see to believe.
Quirrell dropped the turban and turned slowly on the spot. Harry wanted to turn away and not look; the face made him feel sick. But glaring red eyes stared at Harvey.
“Harvey Potter…” it whispered.
Harvey stumbled backwards a step.
“See what I have become? A mere shadow and vapour…I have form only when I can share another’s body…but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks…you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the Forest…and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own…Now…why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?”
Harvey’s body froze.
Harry was curious to know how Harvey could possibly have the stone. All he had done was look into the mirror.
“Don’t be a fool,” snarled the face. “Better save your own life and join me…”
Harvey shook his head and stepped back, closer to Harry. “Never.”
“How touching…” it hissed. “I always value bravery…Yes, boy, your parents were brave…that night when I came to kill you…both of them tried and failed.” The red eyes turned to Harry. “But you…out of them all…so young, so brave.”
Harry pushed himself to stand, stumbling as his head throbbed. Harvey grabbed his arm, helping him stand.
“Even now…when you are so weak, you once again want to protect your brother…”
Harry glared at him and nudged Harvey back and up a few steps. “You will never have the stone.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Harvey, run!” Harry pushed his brother again, shoving him towards the door. Quirrell’s arm grabbed Harry’s, yanking him away. He tried to throw Harry again, but this time Harry grabbed him back and used the momentum to pull Quirrell to the ground.
“SEIZE HIM, YOU FOOL,” yelled Voldemort.
Quirrell lept from the ground and raced over to Harvey. Instead of running as he should have, Harvey tried to help Harry. Quirrell reached out and clasped his hand on Harvey’s wrist. As he did so, Harvey cried out in pain, and Quirrell dropped Harvey wrist crying out like he too had been hurt.
Harry noticed that Quirrell’s hand had started to blister before their eyes. He clenched his wrist and cried out.
“Get the stone!” cried Voldemort.
Quirrell reached for Harvey again, knocking Harvey onto his back and clasping both hands around his throat. Harry pushed himself up and ran at Quirrell. He knocked the Professor off his brother as Quirrell cried out again. Both of his hands looked burnt, raw, red and shiny.
“Kill him, you pathetic fool.”
Quirrell tried to push himself up to reach for Harvey again, but the younger boy surprised both Quirrell and Harry when he pressed both of his hands to Quirrell’s face.
“AAARGH!”
Quirrell rolled away from them. Harvey grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him; the two of them stumbled back as Quirrell’s face blistered.
Harry didn’t understand why it seemed that Harvey’s touch was hurting the man in such a way, but Harvey seemed to be struggling to stand. They both fell onto the ground, holding each other, as Quirrell screamed out in pain.
“KILL THEM!” screamed Voldemort.
Quirrell stumbled towards them, red hands reaching out towards them.
Harry pulled Harvey mostly behind him and felt Harvey’s wand in his pocket. Harry grasped at it and yanked it out, pointing it towards Quirrell.
“Stupefy!”
Quirrell screamed again and flew back across the room, landing on a heap in front of the mirror.
Harry took a shaky breath of relief when he didn’t move. Dropping the wand, Harry let his body sag as his head throbbed. He hoped someone else would show up soon because he wasn’t sure if he could move.
Harvey’s hand that was gripping his shoulder let go. Harry turned to see his brother unconscious and slumped behind him. Harry shifted, trying to check on his brother, but the room once again spun violently. The pain in his head throbbed, and the room went black.
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