MetaFic

Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited nervously as Ginny made her way to the third floor under the Invisibility Cloak.  To keep Ron and Hermione from asking the same question over and over, Harry periodically told their anxious friends that Ginny had not yet encountered anything.

When she finally arrived, Ginny noticed that something was vaguely odd about the forbidden door.  Stepping closer, she discovered that it was slightly ajar.

That can’t be good, Harry said.

Carefully, Ginny pushed the door further open until she could peer into the room beyond.  Inside, she could see Fluffy standing in the middle of the room, but the trapdoor lay wide open between his paws.

Should we try to tell McGonagall with the pendants? she wondered.

I’m not sure, Ginny, he replied.  She wouldn’t listen earlier.  I think she would just come out here and tell us again that there’s no way anyone is getting to the Stone.  Then she’d punish us for being out of bounds after she warned us about it.

Maybe.  But do you want to take the time to argue about it with her?  I don’t. Harry’s sense of urgency became more magnified as he thought about it.  I don’t want to wait any longer at all.

Resolve hardened in their minds.  “The door and the trapdoor are both open,” Harry said to the others.  “He’s already gone down there.”

“What are we going to do?” Hermione asked nervously, her voice rising slightly as she became visibly worried.

“We’re going after him.”

The air stirred as Ginny appeared at his side and swept the Invisibility Cloak off in one smooth motion.  “You two can take the Cloak and try to find a professor,” she said firmly as she held it out.  “Send them after us, okay?”

“What?!” Hermione exclaimed, panic creeping into her voice.  “Why?”

“Hermione, we don’t have time to find someone else first!” Harry paced a moment trying to find a way to explain it to their friend.  “There’s no telling how long he’s been in there! It can’t have taken him long to get past Fluffy if he knows how.  We have to go soon, so that we at least have a chance of catching him before he gets back out.   Before he can get to the forest and to… to him!”

“Bugger finding a professor,” Ron shot back at his sister, unconsciously matching her strident tones.  “Told you I’d stick with you, didn’t I?  Well, I’m sticking.”

Hermione nodded firmly.  “What he said goes for me, too.  Except for the language.  I’m not sure it’s the best idea, but if you’re going, then I’m going.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Harry protested.  “You could get hurt in there.”

Ron frowned slightly.  “So could you, and four can do a lot more than two.”

He’s right, Ginny said.  I don’t like it at all, but he’s right this time.

“Alright, fine,” Harry said.

A shaky voice spoke from near the boys’ dormitory stairs.  “I don’t think you should go.”

All four students spun towards the far side of the room.  Slowly, but with a determined expression, Neville marched over to them, stopping to stand next to one of the large armchairs.  “You should find Professor McGonagall and tell her instead.”

Hermione shifted from foot to foot as Neville systematically made eye contact with each of them before slowly resuming his walk towards them.  “Remember how you said you did something stupid with that troll at Halloween?  And you all got hurt?  You don’t want that to happen again.”

The others moved aside to let Harry speak for them, and Neville stopped and faced Harry directly.  “You need to tell someone this time, and let them take care of it.  Or at least get help.”  His expression became pleading.  “You could even talk to Fred and George.”

We’re running out of time!  Harry fumed silently.  If he keeps us from stopping Snape…

He took a deep breath to control his need to leave immediately and tried to quickly explain the situation as well as he could.  “Neville, look, we really appreciate that, but you see…”

Ginny thought furiously for a moment. She realised that Neville had no intention of letting them go anywhere without exploring other options first.

“No,” the other boy insisted, “I really think you should talk to someone.  I know I can't stop you from going, but if you do go, I'll get help for you myself!"

He might find someone quickly enough that they could interfere before we can stop Snape, Ginny said.  We can’t take that chance.

“Petrificus Totalus,” she whispered, pointing her wand at Neville’s side.

“Ginny!” Hermione yelled.

Harry had just enough warning to be able to keep the larger boy from falling face-first onto the floor.  With Ron’s help, he lowered Neville to the ground and set him on his back.  Their friend’s body was completely stiff, but his eyes were wide and darted from face to face.

Ginny kneeled and put her hand on Neville’s arm as she leaned over him.  “I’m really sorry, Neville, but it’s important.  We’re in a hurry.”

McGonagall’s going to kill us, Harry speculated as he levitated Neville onto the sofa nearest the fire.

Ginny voiced the other half of his thought.  Better her than Voldemort.  She’ll at least be quick about it.

Harry’s sense of urgency increased, and he quickly crossed the room to stand near the portrait hole with the others.  “We’ll take the Cloak,” he said softly to Ron and Hermione.  “Ginny can join us when we get there.”

We’ll both get to the same place in the end, Harry.

Okay, she relented.  Just this once.

His two friends stood close behind him, and Harry swung the Invisibility Cloak around them all.  Ginny curled herself into an armchair in the dark corner near the portrait hole and watched to make sure that they were completely covered.

Make sure Ron keeps his head down, she said.  Otherwise his feet show.

Slowly, the three friends crept out of the common room and down the stairs.  At the fifth-floor landing, Harry spotted Mrs. Norris approaching them from the corridor, and he was sure that the caretaker’s cat had noticed them somehow.  She stalked towards the stairs, sniffing the air intently, but they scrambled down the stairs before she got too close.

Once the three friends had left the common room, Ginny turned to the sofa where Neville lay, even though she could not see him.  Rising to her feet, she moved to a chair nearby, but she was careful to stay out of the boy’s limited line of sight.

Belatedly, she attempted to explain things to Neville, but most of her attention was on Harry and the others. “We already tried to talk to Professor McGonagall,” she whispered into the silence.  “We really did.  But she wouldn’t believe us at all.”  She was quiet for a minute, trying to decide what to say.  “It’s just really important, Neville.”

After another long pause, she gave up.  “I’m so sorry I had to hex you.”

Finally, the invisible trio reached the third floor and started down the hallway to the forbidden door.  Harry stopped suddenly when Hermione hissed from behind him.

“Ouch!  Ron, that’s my foot.”

“Sorry,” Ron whispered from the back of the group.

“Just walk in step, would you?  It would be much easier.”

“Well, sure, but who says your step is better than my step?”

“Aren’t we supposed to be quiet?” Harry whispered.

“Sorry,” they replied nearly in unison.

They reached the door, which was still slightly ajar.  He pulled the Cloak off, folded it hastily, and tucked it away in a pocket of his robes. At the same time, Ginny rose from her chair and left the common room before appearing next to them.

I think we forgot something, Ginny said, peering through the crack in the doorway again.

“How are we going to get past Fluffy?” Harry asked.

“That’s easy,” Hermione said, waving her hand casually.  “The same way we did last time.”

“What?”

“Ginny, can you get to your bed and back?” the brunette asked.

“Err, yes?”

“Good.  Go and get your bedspread, please.”

Puzzled, but trusting their friend, Harry and Ginny sent her back to her dark four-poster.  She gathered the heavy bedspread in her arms, bunched it haphazardly in her haste, and then returned to the third floor corridor.

“Thank you,” Hermione said.  “Put it on the floor.”

Ginny dropped the blanket and backed away a step as Hermione drew her wand.  “Engorgio!” she said.  The blanket grew to four times its original size, becoming a tall mound of loosely-piled fabric that nearly knocked the redhead off her feet.

“Oh, I’m so glad that actually worked,” Hermione whispered absently.  “The movement diagram was horribly drawn.”

She didn’t know it would work? Harry asked incredulously in the momentary silence.

“What are we doing, Hermione?” Ginny asked.

“Well, the last time, you managed to distract Fluffy for a few moments with some stuffed toys, but they were small enough that he was already destroying them by the time we got out of the room.  This time, we’re making a much bigger stuffed toy so that he’ll be able to play with it long enough for us to get through that door.”

“That’s brilliant,” Harry said.

“Thanks,” she replied with a grin.  “Now, Ron, you’re going to levitate this.  Once we get it through the door, Harry and Ginny will turn it into a bunny.  Then you’ll put it as far from the trapdoor as you can.  Once he’s got it in there to play with, we all go through the trapdoor.  Got it?”

The other three nodded, and Ron lifted the huge blanket with his wand.  “Feels… heavy, or something,” he said.

“It takes more power to lift it since it weighs more,” Ginny said absently, “but you’re not actually feeling its weight.  You’re feeling how much extra magic it takes.”

Harry almost laughed at the shocked expressions on Ron and Hermione’s faces.

“Ginny, how… where…?” Hermione began.

“Later, Hermione,” Harry said.  He pushed the door open fully, and Ron stepped into the room with the blanket floating in front of him.  Fluffy growled as Harry and Ginny entered behind him, but the huge dog did not attack.

Let’s use your wand, Harry, Ginny said.  We don’t want to take a chance of it not being perfect on the first try.

He nodded and took her right hand in his left.  The feeling of power coursed through them as he raised his wand and aimed at the massive blanket.  “Brunesempra!”

With a loud whoosh of air, the bundled fabric transformed into a plush, pink bunny which stood approximately sixteen feet tall.  Fluffy’s attention snapped to the toy, and his six ears swivelled forward as his heads cocked to various angles.

Ron moved the bunny across the room, and Fluffy’s eyes followed it, though the dog did not leave his post above the trapdoor.  A moment later, Ron had the toy positioned in the far corner of the room, but Fluffy still did not move.

“Err… move it around a bit,” Hermione suggested.

Ron shrugged and moved his wrist to make the bunny wobble and bounce in place.  With a thunderous two-headed bark of joy mixed with one rumbling growl, Fluffy leapt across the room and pounced on the toy.  A moment later, all three of his heads were gnawing happily at the pink monstrosity.

All four students were momentarily stunned.  At last, Harry shook his head before whispering his thoughts aloud.  “I would never have thought that spell would be useful.”

Ron grinned and clapped him on his shoulder.  “Good show, Harry.”  The strained hush of the conversation was contagious, as everyone kept their voices low to avoid re-focusing the various attention spans they were dealing with.

Fluffy was still engrossed in destroying Harry and Ginny’s creation, so Harry walked slowly towards the trapdoor.  “Let’s go,” he said.

They stood around the door and peered down.  There was no ladder or staircase visible, and it was too dark inside the hole to see the bottom.  “I guess we jump,” Ron said.  “See you in there!”

Harry, thinking that he should go first, reached out to stop him, but Ron had already hopped over the edge.  A moment later, they heard the muffled sound of his landing.

“Not bad,” he shouted.  “There’s something here to break your fall.  Come on down.”

Harry jumped next, followed closely by Ginny.  They landed on something hard yet springy and fell flat.  Just as they were getting up, Hermione landed next to them and toppled onto their backs.

“We’re not what’s supposed to break your fall, Hermione,” Harry croaked.

“Sorry!” she said, rolling quickly off of them.  “Lumos.”

The light of her wand showed them that they were in a small chamber directly beneath the trapdoor.  Hermione had rolled off to one side towards a dark corridor.  Ginny, Harry, and Ron were sprawled on a nest of rough vines.

Harry and Ginny again tried to get to their feet, and they heard Ron’s muffled swearing as he did the same.  Harry braced his hand against a thick strand of vegetation and tried to pull his feet under him, but they seemed to be caught on something.  The dim light of the Lumos spell and the closeness of the vines made Ginny and Harry feel as if they were in the Forbidden Forest again, with branches grasping hungrily at their clothes and skin.

Panicking, Ginny twisted to look and saw that small tendrils of the plant had wrapped themselves around Harry’s ankles.   They were slowly tightening, and the same squeezing sensation was coming from Ginny’s left ankle and wrist.  A quick glance showed that Ron was under attack from at least four different vines, one of which had covered his mouth partially.  His muffled oaths were much more serious than they had first believed.

“Hermione!” Harry shouted.  “Help!”

She spun around from where she had been peering down the corridor.

Ginny, go!

Without hesitation, Ginny and Harry willed her to the edge of the room next to Hermione.  She landed shakily on her feet before rapidly backing up a few steps, making room for Harry to appear safely in front of her.  They looked back at Ron, whose shoulders and chest were heavily enshrouded with vines.  The one that had been around his mouth had shifted slightly and was starting to wind around his neck.

“Do s’m’th’g!” Ron tried to yell.

Unable to think of anything else, Harry raised his wand and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”  Ron’s legs and hips rose into the air, and a few of the smaller tendrils were pulled away from his arms and torso.  He hung in the air, upside down, with Harry’s spell holding him up while the vines around his shoulders held him down.

Ginny looked to Hermione, but the older girl was staring at Ron with a look of utter shock on her face, one hand half-extended as though to stop everything for just a moment.

“Hermione!” Ginny screamed. She did not know what to do, and she felt helpless watching her brother in a situation so very much like the one in their nightmare.

Hermione blinked once and dropped her hand.  “That’s… that’s Devil’s Snare,” she said quickly. “Professor Sprout said something about it… it tightens the more you move, and… and…”

“NOT H’LP’NG!” Ron screamed around the vines holding him down.  Harry’s levitation charm was keeping more vines from attacking him, but the one around his neck was beginning to tighten visibly even as Ron thrashed about to avoid it.

“I remember!” Hermione shouted.  “It likes dark, damp places, and it avoids heat and light!”

“So light a fire!” Harry said, struggling to keep Ron off of the ground without making the plant rip off his limbs.

“But there’s no wood!”

“Have you gone mad?” Ron coughed, his mouth momentarily free, as his face began to purple.  “Are you a witch or not?”

“Right,” Hermione said. “Ginny, you’re the only one with a free wand.  Cast the Bluebell flame spell!”

“B-B-Bluebell flames?” Ginny said, horrified. “I… I can’t. Not with Ron. Please, I don’t want to hurt him!  I can’t!”

“Gin –”  Ron’s scream was choked off as the Devil’s Snare tightened on his throat.

“Hermione, cast the spell!” Harry yelled.  “We don’t need light!”

C’mon, Hermione, Ginny begged as she sank to the floor with her useless wand.  Don’t make me cast that spell near my brother.  Please!

“Right!”  Hermione cancelled her light spell and then muttered the incantation in the darkness.  Ginny exhaled in relief as a stream of blue flames the size of grapefruits flew from her wand into the mass of the plant.  In the flickering blue glow, they watched as the vines and tendrils retreated from the flames, hastily pulling away from Ron as they went.

As soon as his shoulders were free, Ron shot a few feet into the air from the continued effect of Harry’s levitation charm.  Harry stopped the ascent and guided his horribly dishevelled friend over to the bare stone floor, well away from the cringing plant.

Stumbling to her feet as the blue flames died out, Ginny lit her wand and rushed to her brother’s side. Dropping beside him, she hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, Ron.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t want to hurt you!”

Ron patted his sister’s back awkwardly. “It’s okay, Ginny. We all make mistakes.” He made a disgusted noise and shook his head before staring at Hermione.  “‘There’s no wood!’ Honestly.”

Hermione’s triumphant expression fell.  “I’m sorry, Ron,” she said softly.

The red-haired boy extracted himself from Ginny’s embrace and stood with a muffled moan, rubbing at the livid red marks on his neck.  “Oh, don’t worry about it, Hermione.  You did the right thing in the end, and it sounds like none of the rest of us would have been able to make fire at all.”  He grinned slightly.  “Just for the record, though… plants are wood.”

Hermione spluttered as Harry and Ginny laughed nervously.  When she recovered, she said, “Harry and Ginny know the spell.  They could have done it.”  Then she frowned and looked at Ginny.  “Why didn’t you, anyway?  You can’t really hurt anyone with Bluebell flames.”

“Umm, well, we’re not supposed to… I mean… it…” Ginny trailed off as they thought about the spell.

It would make it easier to get back out, Harry said.

And if we’re not touching and not really upset, it should be a lot smaller, right?

“Back up, everyone,” Ginny instructed.  They all moved to the doorway, and Harry and Ginny deliberately placed themselves in front of their friends.  Then she pointed her wand at the mass of Devil’s Snare.  “Ignis Caeruleus.”

Three spheres of blue fire flew from the tip of her wand, expanded to over two feet in diameter, and burst into the tangled vines.  The plant tried to pull away, but it was not fast enough to avoid the larger flames, and the fire spread quickly among the dry vines.  Within moments, the entire mass was ablaze, and bright flames leapt several feet into the air as the Devil’s Snare burned in silence.

Ron and Hermione hastily backed even further away from the inferno, their mouths gaping in shock.  When the plant stopped moving and the remaining vines began to break apart and collapse into ashes, Harry and Ginny put out the rest of the fire with water from their wands.  When they were finished, only a few sodden black tendrils remained in one corner.  With the rest of the plant out of the way, they could see that the flagstone there had been removed and replaced with a recessed pot of dirt.

From behind them, Ron finally broke the silence.  “Uh, Ginny… thanks for, err, not helping me.”

She turned around and smiled abashedly.  “Anytime, Ron.”

“That’s why Professor McGonagall took away so many points, isn’t it?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Ginny replied just as softly.

“Come on,” Harry said after a moment.  “This way.”

Ginny relit her wand and transferred it to her left hand as she walked next to Harry.  After a few steps, Ron whispered, “Lumos,” and held his wand forward to light their path.  Ginny looked back at him quizzically.  “If something moves, just… you know, burn it,” he instructed her.  She extinguished her wand and kept it ready.

After a few yards, the dark corridor ended in a large wooden door.  “Ready?” Harry asked.  At their nods, he jerked the door open and aimed his wand into the next room.

From the corridor, the room appeared to be empty except for a jumbled assortment of brooms leaning against the far wall, next to another door.  A loud buzzing filled the room, and the air vibrated with the sound.  Torches set into the walls provided a dim, flickering light.

Cautiously, Harry and Ginny stepped through the doorway with Ron and Hermione immediately behind them.  The door swung closed behind them all with a click that was audible over the pervasive humming.  They still could not see any danger, but following the noise led them to look up.  The ceiling of the room was nearly thirty feet high, and the open space above their heads was filled with glittering objects flying around in a chaotic swarm.

“Well, Ron, which one shall I burn, then?” Ginny asked.

“What are they?” he replied.

“Dunno,” Harry said.  “Do you suppose they’ll attack us if we try to cross the room?”

The other three shrugged, so Harry and Ginny stepped forward slowly.  They reached the middle of the room, but the flying objects did not respond at all.  Feeling more secure, they crossed the rest of the way to the far door.

“Maybe Snape already got rid of whatever was in here,” Ron suggested.

“Yeah, could be,” Harry said.  He tried the handle on the door, but it would not budge.  “It’s locked.  Hermione?”

She stepped between Harry and Ginny and touched her wand to the knob.  “Alohomora.”

He tried the door again, but it still refused to open.

“It’s a pretty simple unlocking charm,” Hermione said.  “There must be loads of ways to lock things that I can’t open.”

“So we need the key,” Ginny said.  She looked up at the buzzing swarm above their heads.  “Do you suppose…?”

Harry followed her thought and aimed his wand at the middle of the shifting cloud.  “Wingardium Leviosa.”  The spell hit one of the fliers, and it stopped in midair even though its wings still fluttered.  Harry brought it closer, and Ginny picked it out of the air. Holding it tightly, she discovered that it was a heavy brass key with small white wings affixed to its head.

“It’s a key, alright,” she said.  She raised her wand and pointed it carefully at the struggling key.  “Finite Incantatem.”  The wings vanished, and the key stilled in her hand.  She held it up next to the lock on the door.  “Much too large, though.”

“But there’s hundreds of them,” Ron said.  “How do we know which one is right?”

“It would take too long to hit them all and try them,” Harry said.

“Well, the keyhole is fairly small,” Hermione offered.  “So it should be a small key.  And most keys match their locks, so I’d guess it would be silver and probably a bit tarnished.”

Harry and Ginny looked up and scanned the group of keys.  After a moment, Harry raised his arm and pointed.  “There, that one.  It’s silver, and one of its wings is bent.  See it?”

Ginny closed her eyes to see the silver key clearly.  She turned her head to follow it and then opened her eyelids to track it herself.

“Alright, so how do we get it?”  Ron asked.  “I don’t think any of us could hit that one key with a spell while it’s flying.  Can you use the fire to burn all the wings off?  Or just burn down the door?”

I really don’t like using that spell, Ginny said.

Harry started to answer Ron, but Hermione was quicker.

“If you put that much heat near a key made of silver, it might melt too much to work in the lock,” she pointed out.  “And if the doors were that weak, all of the rest of this would be completely pointless.”  Hermione picked up one of the broomsticks from where it rested near the door.  “I think we’re supposed to use brooms to catch the key.  Madam Hooch must have thought it up.”

“Well, no problem, then,” Ron said confidently.  “Harry, hop up there and catch it, and the rest of us can help trap it.”

Ginny, I think…

She nodded.  I suppose so.  Seems strange, though.

“It’ll be easier if Ginny flies by herself,” Harry said.

Ron blinked.  “What?  Why?”

“This room is pretty small for a broom, so if we all fly, we’ll just get in each others’ way.  That means just one person should be up there, and grabbing the key will be all about manoeuvrability.  I can spot the right key easily enough and keep track of it for her, but Ginny will be faster and more manoeuvrable because she’s a bit smaller than I am.”

The red-haired boy furrowed his brow in thought.  “That’s true, I suppose,” he said after a moment, “but you’ve got more experience Seeking than she does.”

Harry shrugged.  “She’s been there every time I’ve been on a broom, Ron.”

“Oh, right,” Ron said with a flash of embarrassment.  “Sorry, Ginny.”

“It’s okay, Ron.”

She studied the small assortment of brooms and was amused to see a solid and dependable Oakshaft 79 and a few older Cleansweeps in addition to the Comet 180 in Hermione’s hands.

What’s this?  Pick your favourite type of broom?  Why on earth should there be more than one here at all? Ginny wondered.

Maybe they wanted to make it easy for whoever comes along.  Wouldn’t want it to be an actual challenge, now, would we? Harry thought sarcastically.

Ginny took the Comet from Hermione as Harry found the correct key again.  Though the Nimbus was infinitely superior, at least she would be using a racing broom.

Ginny soared into the air and around the edges of the room, adapting to the capabilities of the broom.  Harry focused on the silver key, ignoring everything around him so that Ginny could fly and use his vision at the same time.  When they were sure that she could manoeuvre without becoming disoriented, she darted into the centre of the cloud towards the elusive key.  As they expected, it shied away from her and flew erratically towards the other side of the room.

A whisper and a metallic clang interrupted Harry’s concentration.  Looking around, he saw Hermione hex a second key out of the air with Finite Incantatem, being careful to aim away from where Ginny was flying.  Noticing his look, Hermione shrugged.  “It’s good practice, and there will be fewer keys for her to fly through.”

Ron took up station in the middle of the room and attempted to hit the one of the keys with a spell also.  His aim was not as good as Hermione’s, but just as Harry decided that his friend’s efforts were futile, Ron connected with a spell, and a key fell to the ground.

Returning his attention to the keys above him, Harry ignored the sounds of his friends’ activities.  He quickly relocated the correct key, which Ginny had lost sight of a few moments after losing Harry’s help.  Together, they tracked it around the edges of the room, and Ginny flew as quickly as she could.  Her hair and robes brushed the walls and ceiling as she weaved, but she refused to slow down and let the key get away of her.

Careful, Ginny.

She inverted herself in midair again, following the silver key in its erratic path.  When it drifted closer to one of the corners, she flew towards it in a curve instead of a straight line.  When the key was directly between her and the corner, she straightened and sprinted towards it.  Trapped by the corner, the key hesitated for a moment and then darted along the wall at an angle towards the floor.  Ginny used her momentum to cut the corner of its path and reached out with her left hand.  Her fist closed around the small key just as her knuckles brushed lightly along the stone wall.  Turning, she braked as hard as she could to avoid a collision with the wall or the floor.  She managed it, but her landing was harder than usual, and she had to bend her knees sharply to absorb the impact as her feet hit the ground.

Dropping the broom, she crossed to Harry.  “Here you are, Harry,” she said, grinning impishly as she pressed the key into his hand.

The memory surfaced for both of them, and Harry snorted in laughter.  Not fair.  There’s no dirt here for you to brush off of my shoes.

Why would I do a silly thing like that? she asked.

“That was brilliant, Ginny,” Ron said.

Harry rolled his eyes.  Spoilsport.  This doesn’t mean you win.

She smiled at her brother.  “Thanks, Ron.”

“We should go,” Hermione suggested in a low voice.

The urgency of their situation came back to Harry and Ginny, and their smiles faded instantly.  “Yeah,” she said.  She picked up the broom and leaned it against the wall as Harry fitted the key to the lock.  It turned easily, and he released the key to flutter weakly around near the floor.

They all stepped through the doorway, and it clicked shut behind them.  Looking around, Harry and Ginny saw a double row of tall white statues in front of them.  The square flagstones of the room were laid in an alternating pattern of black and white.

Ron took a step forward and looked towards the far side of the room.  “It’s a chessboard,” he breathed.

Gazing around again, Harry and Ginny recognised the configuration.  The four students stood immediately behind the white king and queen, on the edge of the board.  Across the chamber, the black pieces formed a threatening wall in front of another door, which was flush with the far edge of the board.  To the left and right, beyond the coloured squares, were narrow strips of open floor.  The entire room was lit by a row of large torches mounted high on all four of the walls.

The pieces themselves were incredible works of sculpture, magical or otherwise.  Each one, with the exception of the castles, took the form of a tall, faceless human.  The kings and queens were tallest, with crowns to indicate their status.  The knights were armoured and rode huge stone horses, and the bishops wore long, flowing robes and mitres.  In front of them, the pawns were shorter, broader figures.

Each humanoid piece carried a weapon.  Heavy sceptres for the king and queen, maces for the bishops, longswords and shields for the knights, and pole arms for the pawns.  Each weapon, though carved from stone, looked deadly.

“We have to play our way across the room?” Hermione wondered.

Unexpectedly, the white king turned its head towards them and nodded silently.

“Do we just tell you what to do, then?” Harry asked.  The king shook his head and then stepped to the side of its square.  Unfolding its crossed arms, it pointed at the place where it had just been standing.  “We take your place?”  The king nodded.

Ginny took a step forward.  “All on the same square?”  The tall statue shook its head again.  “One piece for each of us?”  It nodded.

Harry looked around one more time and then turned to his friends.  “How should we do this?”

“Well, no offence or anything,” Ron said.  “But I really should…”

“Definitely,” Harry replied before Ron could finish.  “We’re not stupid enough to try this ourselves when you’re around.  Where do you want us?”

Ron frowned and rubbed his forehead for a few moments.  “Well, Harry, you’re the one who really needs to get through this, right?  I mean… you beat You-Know-Who before, so maybe you can beat Snape, too.  And Ginny can go wherever you go.”

Reluctantly, Harry nodded.

“So you should be the king,” Ron continued.  “That way, if we win at all, you’ll be able to go forward.”

“What do you mean, ‘able’?” Hermione asked nervously.

Ron turned to her, his face solemn.  “It’s wizard’s chess, Hermione.  These pieces probably fight each other.  I’ll do my best to protect us all, of course, but…”

“Oh,” she replied.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked at them all again.  “Well, if that’s the way it is, then that’s the way it is.”

Ginny reached out and squeezed Hermione’s arm as Ron gave instructions.  “So Harry will be the king.  Ginny, you be the queen.  It’s a dangerous position, but I can get you away from anything that tries to hurt you if I have to.  Hermione, you be the bishop on Ginny’s side.  I’ll take the knight on Harry’s.”

Harry stepped into the centre of the king’s square.  When the statue did not move, he reached out and touched its stone knee.  The figure bowed and then walked heavily off to the right side of the room to stand in the open area.  Ginny did the same with the queen and stood at Harry’s left.  Hermione and Ron took their places, and when the bishop and knight had joined the collection of white pieces at the side of the room, the chamber fell into an eerie silence.

“Alright,” Ron said after a moment.  “White goes first.”  He took a deep breath and spoke firmly.  “Pawn to queen’s bishop four.”

The pawn standing in front of Hermione walked forward two squares, and the game began.  For a long while, the pieces moved around each other, and none were taken.  Ron avoided moving any of the living pieces for as long as he could, but finally he moved out into the area in front of his friends.

“Be careful, Ron,” Ginny said.

Her brother nodded, never taking his eyes off of the board around him.  “Can’t play chess without moving the pieces.”  His voice was distant, and his mind was clearly engaged on the game instead of what they were saying.

Several moves later, a black pawn moved diagonally to attack one of the white pawns.  The dark piece lowered its pike from its shoulder and prodded viciously at the white piece, which did not attempt to defend itself.  The weapon struck its chest with a loud crack, and the white pawn slumped to the floor.  The black piece dragged its fallen opponent to the side of the board with the other inert white pieces, and then it returned to the square it had claimed.

Ron gulped as he looked around the board.  “Wizard’s chess, alright.”

The game continued.  Ron lost more pawns and the other white knight, but he took an equal number of black pieces in exchange.  He finally asked Hermione to move, placing her in front of Ginny.  None of his friends asked him to explain what he was doing or why.  In this, if in nothing else, Ginny and Harry knew to defer to her brother.

The black king had moved closer to the right side of the board, and Ron began moving himself and other pieces in that direction.  At the same time, the black queen moved steadily towards where Harry, Ginny, and Hermione still stood.  The game went on, and Ron moved Ginny towards the black king with the other pieces.  She found herself facing the opposing king diagonally, and in response the tall figure moved backwards on its next turn to stand at the edge of the board, one square from the corner.

Ron had been directing the pieces steadily, never pausing for very long between moves.  After the black king’s retreat, however, he stood silently for several minutes.  He was in one of the centre squares of the board, facing a black pawn in front of him and the black queen ahead and to his left.

“Ron?” Ginny finally asked from her position across the board in front of him.

He straightened and turned to face Hermione, who still stood diagonally in front of Harry.  Harry himself had not moved at all.  “Alright, this is what’s going to happen.  Hermione, you’re going to move ahead and to your right, all the way to the edge of the board, to take that black pawn.”  Hermione took a step towards the edge of her square, but Ron called out to stop her.  “Stop!  Listen first, then move.”

The red-haired boy took a deep breath.  “After you move, the black queen should take me.”

“Ron, no!” Hermione cried.

“There’s got to be another way,” Ginny protested from behind him.

He turned to her and shook his head.  “There isn’t.  If she takes me, we can win without any of you being in danger.  If I try to get away from her, we might win, and I don’t know who would be standing at the end.  This is the best way.”

Hermione pointed frantically at the black queen’s sceptre.  “But Ron, she could kill you!”

“That’s a chance we’ll have to take,” Ron replied, his voice sounding strained.  After a long moment, the redhead shrugged as though resigned, and then he straightened his shoulders as he turned back to Hermione.  “Alright, the queen should take me right after you move.  Then, you’re going to tell this pawn,” he pointed back over his left shoulder, “to take the queen.  I’m at king’s four, so that’s where you’ll tell it to go.  Right?”

“Right,” Hermione said in a subdued voice.

“Good.  I don’t know exactly what black will do after that, but it doesn’t matter.  Nothing they can do will hurt any of you or change the ending.  So after they move, Ginny, you’ll move one square diagonally so that you’re standing right in front of the king.  That’ll be checkmate.”

“I see it,” Ginny agreed, nodding slowly.  She sniffed softly and whispered, “Great game, Ron.”

“Thanks, Ginny. Hex Snape at least once for me, okay?”

“We’ll come back for you, Ron,” Harry promised.  “Whatever happens.”

“Get the Stone first,” Ron insisted.  “Now come on, we’re wasting time.  Hermione, go ahead and take that pawn.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something else, but she stopped herself and simply nodded.  Squaring her shoulders, she marched across the board on the black squares.  When she reached the opposing pawn, she hesitated for a moment.  Then, shrugging, she reached out and smacked her hand against its stone leg.  The tall figure bowed its head at her, walked off the edge of the board, and slumped to the floor with its fallen comrades.

Shaking her hand but looking satisfied, Hermione turned back towards the centre of the board.  After only a moment, the black queen stepped from her square into Ron’s and raised her sceptre.  With a whoosh of displaced air, she swung it down towards the boy’s head.  Hermione whimpered and covered her face, but Ron only closed his eyes and stood still.  Ginny and Harry watched, transfixed, as the stone rod passed an inch over her brother’s head, accompanied by a flash of red light.  He collapsed to the floor.

“Ron!” Hermione and Ginny shouted.

“Don’t move!” Harry reminded them.

The queen picked Ron up by the back of his robes and carried him to the side of the board, where she set him on the ground.  Then she walked back to the square he had occupied and faced Harry from only three spaces in front of him.  There was only blank stone where her face should have been, but somehow that made her even more menacing.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione turned back to the game. “Pawn to king’s four!” she shouted.

The white pawn rammed his pike into the torso of the black queen’s larger figure.  The queen fell, and the pawn dragged her out of the way, leaving Harry with no black pieces anywhere near him.  The three remaining students waited for a few long moments for one of their opponents to move.  At last, one of the black pawns stepped forward, threatening the pawn that had felled its queen.

Without hesitation, Ginny stepped forward and to her right.  “Checkmate!” she shouted viciously, seeking some small measure of revenge for the loss of her brother.  The black king bowed and placed its crown at Ginny’s feet.  The other chess pieces, of both colours, walked to the sides of the room, leaving the friends’ path to the exit completely clear.

Instead of going directly to the door, they crossed to where Ron lay.  Hermione reached him first and sighed in relief. “He’s breathing,” she said as she shook his shoulders. “But he’s not waking up.”

“We’ll have to leave him,” Ginny said.  “He should be okay. I think the pieces just use Stunning Spells. I don’t know of any other spells that have a red colour and knock someone out,” she added hopefully.

“He’ll be fine,” Harry said confidently.  “We can levitate him out of here on our way back.”

Nodding, Ginny leaned down and patted her brother’s hand.  “Sleep well, Ron.”

The three friends went to the door and pulled it open.  They walked down a low, narrow corridor to another wooden door.  After glancing at Hermione to make sure she was ready, Harry opened the second door.

The room beyond was approximately the size of Harry’s dormitory, but it had a much higher ceiling.  Lying in the middle of the stone floor was a massive troll, and an equally large club lay a few feet away.  They approached it cautiously, but the ugly creature did not stir.  They stood silently for a moment, watching the unmoving troll.

“I suppose it’s not so bad that Ron didn’t have to see this,” Hermione offered.

Harry and Ginny nodded.  They knew that Hermione was remembering what had happened at Halloween, just as they were.

“Come on,” Ginny said.  “That’s one less thing we have to worry about.”

The far side of the troll’s room did not have a door.  Instead, another small corridor extended into darkness.  Hermione lit her wand, and they followed the corridor until they arrived at the threshold of another small room.

They peered inside from the corridor, but the room held nothing more than a small table.  Lined up on its top were seven bottles of various sizes and colours, and in front of them rested a rolled scroll of parchment.  On the other side of the room was another doorway.  Once again it was too dark for them to see what lay beyond.

Harry crossed to the table with Ginny at his side and Hermione close behind.  When he was a few feet into the room, black flames sprang up in the doorway ahead of them.  Spinning around, Ginny saw that purple flames now blocked the doorway from which they had entered.  Both sets of flames were thick and completely opaque, blocking their view of whatever lay on the other side.

They turned back to the bottles.  Each one was a different size, and they all held some quantity of liquid.  As Harry continued to study the bottles, Ginny picked up the parchment, unrolled it, and held it so that she and Hermione could both 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 back instead,Two among our number hold only nettle wine,Three of us are killers, waiting bidden 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 hideYou 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 rightAre twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

Before Ginny had finished reading, Hermione sniffed at her side.  “Arrogant, that’s what it is.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.  “It looks like a pretty tough puzzle to me.  Probably Snape’s idea.”

“I’m sure it’s quite challenging for wizarding folk,” Hermione explained, “but it’s just a carefully worded version of a common Muggle puzzle.  Haven’t you seen it before, Harry?  I did it in school two years ago.”

“Err, no,” Harry admitted.  “I might have seen it, I suppose, but… well, it’s not the sort of thing I’d have looked at for very long.”

“Oh,” she replied, lowering her eyes.  “Well, I’m sure you could do it now.”

Harry and Ginny skimmed the parchment again.  “Yeah, maybe so,” he admitted.  “But why bother, when you’re here?”

Hermione grinned faintly at him, rolled her eyes, and then pulled the puzzle out of Ginny’s hands.  She read it once more before handing it back.  Without hesitating, she pointed at the smallest bottle in the collection.  “This one will take you forward,” she said.  Then, pointing to a large, rounded bottle at the right end of the line, she continued.  “And this one will take you back through the purple flames.”

Harry dubiously picked up the smallest bottle.  It was little more than a vial, containing no more liquid than a thimble might.  The decision was easy.

It’s not as though we’d send her on alone, Ginny commented.

She’d go if we asked her to.

Ginny nodded and turned to her friend.  “Alright, Hermione.  You drink from the larger one and get out of here.  Harry will use the other potion to go through the black flames, and I’ll move to him once he’s across.”

“But, Ginny, I want to help,” Hermione pleaded.

“You can,” Harry said.  “Get back to Ron and take him out of here.  Then go to the Owlery and send Hedwig to find Dumbledore.  He might get here in time to stop Snape on the way back out.  We’ll do our best to slow him down, at least.”

“Harry, what if You-Know-Who is in there with him?”

Together, they shrugged, but Ginny answered.  “We have to try, even if he is.”

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.  “I know you do,” she whispered.  With a slight whimper, she leapt forward and put an arm around each of their necks, pulling them against her shoulders.  Ginny put an arm around her friend, and Harry hesitantly followed her lead on the other side.

“You take care of yourselves,” Hermione said, her voice catching.  “I don’t care how strange your lives are, you’re still the very best people I know.  If anyone in the world can get that stone back, it’s you.  And if you can’t…” she trailed off and sobbed quietly.  “If you really just can’t, then please, please get out of there.”

“We’ll do our best, Hermione,” Ginny said.  “Harry won’t let me do anything foolish, and I won’t let him, either.”

Hermione released them and stepped back.  “You’re already doing something foolish.  We all are.”

“Get going, then,” Harry said.  “See if you can get us out of it.  The sooner you send Hedwig, the sooner Dumbledore will get back to the castle.”

Their friend nodded firmly, her resolve showing itself once more.  She picked up the large bottle and drank deeply.  As she set the bottle back down, she grimaced and shivered.  “Goodness, that’s cold.”

Hermione turned back the way they had come.  “I’ll get help here as fast as I can,” she promised.  Then, with a final glance and a slight wave, she launched herself into a sprint that carried her through the purple flames and out of sight down the corridor beyond.

Ginny reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand.  Ready?

No, she said.  I’ll be there as soon as you’re through the fire.

She shrugged.  Hex him.  Use the Full Body-Bind.  Then we can figure out the rest.

He shook his head ruefully and then pulled her into a tight hug.  I don’t know how we got this way, Ginny, but I’m glad it happened.  I can’t imagine being here without you.

They pulled apart, and Harry picked up the tiny vial.  After removing the stopper, he drank it quickly and tried to ignore the sour flavour as his mouth puckered.  An icy feeling crept across his body, marked by goose pimples on his flesh.

He quickly walked towards the doorway as a mixture of confidence, affection, fear, and concern washed between them both.  Mixed in with their swirling emotions was a silent promise to stay together.

Always.

No matter what.

Harry squared his shoulders and raised his chin defiantly.  Without looking back, he stepped through the black flames and into the corridor beyond, his wand out.

The black flames tickled Harry’s skin and felt warm, but they were not hot enough to bother him.  He took three steps through them and then emerged on the other side.  Instantly, Ginny was next to him, and they felt the true heat of the fire on her skin from two feet away.

Cautiously, the pair moved down the short corridor and eased open the door in front of them.  They looked into the next chamber to see, as expected, a figure in a black cloak standing with its back to them.

Quickly stepping into the room, Harry and Ginny moved to the side of the doorframe, and neither of them noticed the door closing behind them with a soft click.  It took them a moment to register that the figure before them did not have lank black hair.  In fact, it did not have any visible hair at all.  Instead, its head was completely wrapped in a familiar turban.

“Professor Quirrell?!” Harry asked, too stunned to do any of the things they had considered.  Ginny’s mind was equally frozen by the completely unexpected realisation that it was not Snape who was stealing the Stone after all.

The figure spun around, and their Defence professor stared at them down the length of his drawn wand.  His lips twisted into a cruel smile, and neither his face nor his wand twitched at all.  “Hello, Potter.  I thought I might see you here.”  His eyes jumped to Ginny.  “And the Weasley girl, of course.  Can’t seem to find one of you without the other.  No matter.  Witnesses are no longer an important issue.”

“But… Snape was…” Ginny spluttered.

“Ah, yes.  Dear Severus.  He made a quite convenient distraction, even if he is far too clever for his own good.”

“He tried to kill me!” Harry protested.

“Foolish boy!” the professor barked.  “I tried to kill you.  That idiot Snape was trying to save you by steadying your broom.  When that jumped-up Mudblood brat set his robes on fire, he drew too much attention, and I had to let you go.  Pity.  Another few seconds and I would have had you off that broom.”

Harry and Ginny could almost feel the malevolent hatred radiating off of the man as he lectured them in a cold, harsh tone.

“Then that idiot had to go and volunteer to referee the next match.  As though I am stupid enough to try the same thing twice!  I wonder if perhaps he really did want to keep you Gryffindors from winning.  He hates you, of course, and I’m sure he did not enjoy having to protect you.  Such a petty man.”

Quirrell’s smile widened, and his eyes glinted madly.  “But no matter.  I’m going to kill you tonight, and the delay he caused is inconsequential.”

His wand twitched, and Harry dropped to a crouch to avoid the curse he expected, while Ginny immediately moved off to the side.  However, the white light was not aimed at him, and it struck Ginny squarely in spite of her attempt at evasion.  Her arms snapped to her sides, and her legs locked together, causing her to topple slowly sideways towards Harry.  Dropping his wand, he scrambled across the flagstones and caught her before her head hit the ground.  He looked down into her face in concern, and she stared up at him with fear and resolution in her eyes and mind.

Stop him, Harry!  Just stop him!

Lowering her quickly yet gently to the flagstones, he grabbed his wand from beneath her legs.  He tried to remove the Full Body-Bind, but as he started the incantation he belatedly realised that Quirrell had already sent another spell on its way.  Harry’s wand flew out of his hand and landed on the far side of the room even as Harry himself was thrown several feet away from where Ginny lay.

“Yes,” Quirrell said.  “I am going to kill you.  Your little friend can watch and see the whole thing before I kill her, too.  She’s so easily frightened… I’m sure she’ll enjoy it immensely.”  A wave of his wand turned Ginny onto her side, and they saw Quirrell approach Harry from her point of view.

Harry!  Get my wand!

He climbed to his hands and knees and scrambled back towards Ginny, already focused on the wand still clenched in her hand.  Before he had covered half the distance, however, he was struck by another spell, and thick ropes wound tightly around his body.  He, too, fell stiffly to the floor, although he landed face down.

“You see, Potter?  You are no match for me, even if you did manage to beat my troll.”  A foot pushed roughly under Harry’s hip and flipped him onto his back.  Quirrell looked down at him, still smiling malevolently.  “Did you know, Potter?  You killed that lovely troll.  Bashed its head in.  Did you enjoy it?”  He shook his head and straightened.  “Never mind.  I’m sure you did, even if you won’t admit it.”

Ginny was slightly alarmed at the unexpected news.  We didn’t know that!  Ron doesn’t know that!

He doesn’t need to, either.

“You let the troll in?” Harry asked aloud.

“You are dim, aren’t you?  Of course I did.  I have a special affinity for trolls, you see.  Very helpful creatures, really.  Big enough and just smart enough to be useful, but not so rare as to be really valuable.  The first one distracted everyone quite nicely, and its life was well worth the effort.  But Snape already suspected me, and he tried to get past that damned dog thinking I’d already done it.  I ‘rescued’ him, of course, but I should have waited a few moments longer.”

Quirrell smiled in a horrifying way at the thought, his mouth twisting into a demented façade of happiness.  “Perhaps neither one of us would have to worry about Snape anymore.  That would have been nice.  Now, Potter, be quiet.  I have to retrieve the Stone for my Master before I’ll be allowed to take the time to kill you and your friend properly.”

Quirrell spun away from Harry, and whatever he was studying was blocked from Harry’s view by the man’s back.

It’s the mirror, Harry! Ginny yelled, drawing his attention to her vision.  He’s looking at the Mirror of Erised!

How could it do that? he wondered as they both tried to work out the puzzle.

“There is nothing else left to guard or block, so the Stone must be in the mirror,” Quirrell muttered.  “I see it… I see myself holding it and presenting it to the Dark Lord.  But how do I get it out?”

Harry and Ginny’s minds were racing as they tried to figure out both the puzzle Quirrell represented and the best way to keep him from getting the Stone.

I wish we could reach one of the pendants now, Ginny said, frustrated by her inability to move.  McGonagall would ruddy well believe us if she heard this lunatic talking.

“Snape was trying to stop you, that day in the forest, wasn’t he?” Harry asked, hoping to interrupt the man’s concentration.

“Yes,” Quirrell said absently, circling the mirror slowly.  “He was trying to frighten me.  As though I would possibly be afraid of him while in the service of the Dark Lord.”

“You’ve been meeting Voldemort in the forest?”

He chuckled darkly.  “No, foolish boy.  Once, I did meet the Dark Lord in a forest in Albania, and he educated me in the ways of real power.  I have been most fortunate to serve, but I have no need to meet him anywhere anymore.  He is with me wherever I go, as befits his most useful servant.  I have served him faithfully, though I have failed him more than once in my weakness.  Ever since I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he has kept a close eye on me to ensure that I do not falter again.”

I saw him that day! Harry remembered.  Hagrid must have taken the Stone out of the vault just minutes before he tried to steal it.

You couldn’t have known, Harry, Ginny said, struggling and failing to wiggle her fingers or toes.

Quirrell returned to the front of the mirror and faced it again.  “The Stone must come out somehow.  Do I have to find a way to break it?”

Hope surged through Ginny and Harry as they remembered what Bill had told them in his letter.  “How else would you get something out of a mirror?” Harry asked, feigning ignorance.

“Fool!” Quirrell snapped.  “You know nothing of magic.  And yet…”  He trailed off and then raised his wand to tap the surface of the mirror.  “Perhaps, in this case… from the mouths of babes, indeed… “

A harsh, breathy voice seemingly emerged from the mirror itself.  “No!” it rasped.  “If you destroy the mirror, the Stone is lost.”

Quirrell leapt back from the mirror, hunching forward as though cringing from an unseen presence.  “Forgive me, My Lord.  I did not think.”

The voice spoke again, and this time Harry and Ginny, hearing it from two different locations, could tell that it was somehow coming from Quirrell himself.  “Use the boy,” it said.

Their professor straightened and turned to Harry.  With a wave of his wand, the ropes disappeared, and then Quirrell lifted Harry to his feet by the front of his robes and dragged him in front of the mirror.  When the man released him, Harry brought his left arm up to his chest, cradling it in his right hand as though he had been injured.  As casually as he could, he wrapped his fingers around the circular pendant at his throat and squeezed it tightly.  Harry tried valiantly to think only of McGonagall instead of the man behind him or the fact that Voldemort was here, somehow, inside Hogwarts.

Come on, Professor!

“What do you see, Potter?” Quirrell demanded harshly.

Bill’s words came back to him for a moment.  Mirrors always reflected something, but the trick was to find out what they really reflected.  Harry and Ginny knew that somehow, Dumbledore had altered the reflection now that the Stone was inside the mirror.  But what would it reflect now?  And what did they hope it would reflect?

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as they thought quickly, attempting to decide on an answer to Quirrell’s question while continuing to think of McGonagall.  The original mirror showed us what we most want.  What do we want most?

To keep Voldemort from getting the Stone, Ginny supplied.

So it should show me how to do that.  But what do I tell him I see?

His eyes snapped open, and he gazed into the mirror.  Once again, his own reflection faded and was replaced by an image of Ginny.  This time, instead of a clean Hogwarts uniform, he saw her as she was.  Her uniform was dishevelled from being worn all day and then abused by the Devil’s Snare, her hair was tangled from her flight in the key room, and her robes hung open.  But she was smiling with both happiness and affection, and she winked at him conspiratorially.

That is weird! Ginny said from her place on the floor, interrupting her desperate recollection of their last Sunday meeting with their Head of House.

The Ginny in the mirror rolled her eyes and reached into her pocket.  When she pulled out her hand, she was holding a rough, red stone that pulsed slightly with its own light.  The image widened her eyes dramatically and mouthed, “The Philosopher’s Stone!”  Then the Stone slipped out of her hand, causing Harry and Ginny’s hearts to skip a beat, but the image caught the Stone easily in her other hand, smirked at him, and put it back into her pocket.  At that moment, they both felt something pressing against Ginny’s hip through the fabric of her robes.

I’ve got it, Harry, she cried.  I’ve got the Stone!

How the bloody hell could I? Ginny asked, half-hysterically.

Quirrell shook Harry roughly.  “Well, Potter?  What do you see?  How do I get the Stone?”

Harry tried to calm himself after the moment of euphoria, and Ginny returned her attention to thoughts of McGonagall.  “I see… I see myself, holding the Quidditch Cup.  I’ve got a badge on… I’m Quidditch Captain!”

“Get out of the way, boy!” Quirrell shouted, pushing Harry roughly to the side.  He looked into the mirror again and released a frustrated grunt.

Harry backed across the room as quietly as possible, hoping to reach Ginny’s wand and release her, while he kept his hand on the pendant.  As he moved, the small metal disc finally warmed under his palm.  He had taken only two steps when the strange voice spoke again.

“He lies… the boy lies…”

Quirrell spun to face him, once more aiming his wand at Harry’s chest.  “Tell the truth, Potter!  What did you see?”

“Let me speak to him,” the harsh voice said.  “Face to face… let me see him…”

“Master, you are not strong enough!” Quirrell protested.

“I have strength enough… for this.”

Harry froze as the meaning of Quirrell’s words registered.  The voice…

He stood frozen as Quirrell began unwrapping the turban from his head.  When the last layer of cloth had been removed, they saw that Quirrell was completely bald, and Ginny could see an odd lump near the back of his head.  The professor dropped the cloth to the floor and spun slowly in place.

Ginny screamed into the stunned silence of their minds as the back of Quirrell’s head became visible, and Harry felt as though he had been petrified as well.  Where there should have been smooth skin, they saw a grotesque face on the back of his head.  Its features were pinched, but it had large, protruding red eyes above a flattened nose and a lipless mouth.  The red eyes blinked slowly, and the skin of Quirrell’s entire head shifted as it spoke.

“Harry Potter,” it breathed.  “We meet again.  Does it please you to see what I have become?  Do you feel triumphant?  You would prefer me dead, I am sure, but it will take far more to kill Lord Voldemort.  I have shared others’ bodies and gained strength from the blood of unicorns, drunk by my faithful servant here.  But no more.  Now that I have found the Philosopher’s Stone, the Elixir of Life will enable me to create a new body.  One more fitting for the greatest Dark Lord in history.

“Now, boy,” it whispered.  “Why don’t you give it to me?”

He doesn’t know you’ve got it! Harry exulted silently.  We have to make sure he keeps thinking I have it.  He released his pendant and reached down to cup his hand on his robes, as though grasping an object in his pocket.

Be careful, Harry!

Harry took a step backwards and to the side, further from where Ginny lay helpless.

“Save your own life, Harry,” Voldemort said as Quirrell walked backwards to follow Harry across the room.  “If you give me the stone, you need not meet the same fate as your parents.  They died screaming and begging for mercy.  Is that what you want for yourself?”

Harry knew little of his parents, but he knew better than to believe the words of a creature such as Voldemort.  “You’re lying,” he whispered.

“Such courage.  Such lovely, foolish courage.  Yes, boy, your parents had it, too.  I killed your father first, though he did try to fight me.  But your mother need not have died.  She was trying bravely and foolishly to protect you.  If you do not give me the Stone, they will both have died in vain.”

Harry could not conceive that his parents were not brave, based on what he had been told and his view of them in that very same mirror.  They had surely not given in to the Dark Lord’s demands, and neither would he.  “Never!” Harry shouted.

He sprang towards the closed door.  He had no intention of leaving, but he needed to distract Quirrell and Voldemort until he could get to Ginny’s wand.

“Stop him!” Voldemort ordered.  Ginny saw Quirrell wave his wand, and the tall black flames reappeared along all four walls of the room, blocking the door and reducing the space available to Harry for manoeuvring.

Abandoning deception, Harry leapt directly towards Ginny.  She watched as Quirrell’s hand caught Harry’s wrist, and they both yelled, mentally and vocally, as a searing agony shot through Harry’s body from the scar on his forehead.  Quirrell released him abruptly, and Harry stumbled away in a daze towards the mirror.  The demented professor hunched over his hand, cradling it and moaning in pain, but then he turned to pursue Harry with his wand at the ready.

We have to get you out of here! Harry shouted to Ginny.  We have to get the Stone away!

I won’t leave you! she protested.

You can’t help while you’re petrified, and I can’t get to your wand to end the curse.

Your wand! Ginny suggested.  It went behind the mirror.  Look, I can see it!

Following her gaze, he spotted his wand on the other side of the mirror.  He moved towards it, but another wall of fire leapt into existence across the middle of the room, cutting Harry off from his wand.  He turned back to face Quirrell, sidling around the edges of the open area and stalling for time.

Ginny, you have to go!  If you get away, I can leave too, but we have to get the Stone away!

The hospital wing? she wondered.  Pomfrey’s always there.  Do we remember it well enough?

The horrible time they had spent in the hospital wing on Christmas Day had never really faded from their memory.  Mrs. Weasley would not be lying bloody and unconscious on a bed, and Fawkes would not be disappearing in a flash of orange fire, but they remembered the room itself clearly.

Apparently unnoticed by Quirrell and Voldemort, Ginny vanished and reappeared just above the floor of the hospital wing, near the matron’s office.  The one-inch drop to the cold stone floor was barely noticeable compared to the fight still going on back in the chamber. In her peripheral vision, she could see that the doors to both the matron’s office and the hallway were closed.

At the same moment, Voldemort shouted, “Seize him!”  Quirrell lunged forward, taking advantage of Harry’s distraction as he focused on moving Ginny.  The larger man’s hands closed around his neck, and pain shot through his body again.  He shouted wildly, and tears leaked from the corners of Ginny’s eyes as she lay frozen on the floor of the hospital wing.

Through his own pain, Harry could see that Quirrell’s face was contorted with agony.  “Master!” Quirrell shouted.  “I cannot hold him!  My hands… my hands!”

Harry looked down and saw the skin of the older man’s wrists blistering and cracking.  Moisture developed on Harry’s neck and dripped down towards the collar of his shirt, and a moment later he saw blood begin to seep through the flesh of Quirrell’s wrists, which was rapidly becoming shrivelled and discoloured.

Come on, Harry! Ginny pleaded.

It’s hurting him! he protested as they fought to keep the pain from overwhelming their consciousness.

The Stone is safe, she insisted.  Come to me!

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey burst into the hospital wing from the door to the hallway.  “Who’s there?” she called.  Then she looked down, and her eyes came to rest on Ginny, who was lying almost at her feet.  “Miss Weasley?  Are you alright?”

Ginny still could not move, but she blinked rapidly as tears ran down her face into her hair.  Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey recognised what was happening.

“Finite Incantatem!”

The moment her muscles unlocked, Ginny screamed.

Get away!  Please, please, please get away! she begged Harry, pulling at him with all the power of her mind.

He panted heavily through the tight grip on his throat, even as he felt Quirrell’s hands dry out and rub his skin oddly, and focused on staying where he was.  I can beat him!  I can keep him from killing everyone we care about!  I can do it!  I have to do it!

Harry reached up and put his hands on Quirrell’s wrists, ignoring the flaking sensation under his palms, and held on tightly.

Pomfrey scooped Ginny into her arms, holding her head still with one hand and looking intently into her wide, panicked eyes.  “Miss Weasley!  What’s wrong?!  Ginny?  Come on, child, tell me what’s the matter.”

With an animalistic cry of pain, Quirrell jerked his hands away and out of Harry’s grip.  His fingers had been reduced to bare bone, and even that crumbled as Harry watched.  The disintegration travelled up the man’s arms as he continued to scream.

As the worst of the pain receded, Ginny gasped in Madam Pomfrey’s arms.  “Harry,” she sobbed.  “Harry!”  Come back to me come back comebackcomeback…

Quirrell’s arms had now disintegrated completely, and his head was beginning to resemble that of a dried-out corpse.  His eyes bulged above sunken cheeks, and his lips were stretched away from his mouth in a grotesque parody of a smile.  He screamed again as his tongue receded and stiffened, and Harry heard Voldemort yelling from the back of the man’s head.  With that odd chorus ringing in the room, Quirrell lowered his head and charged Harry.  The last thing Harry saw before Quirrell slammed into him was the crazed professor’s robes falling away to reveal tattered, desiccated flesh clinging to his exposed ribs.

Harry fell backward under the man’s weight, stumbling and slipping in the ashes littering the floor.  His feet flew out in front of him as his momentum carried him backwards.  Quirrell slid off of him as he fell, giving voice to a horrible wail, and Harry thought that he might have finally succeeded in his mission.  Just as he relented to Ginny’s insistent will, he saw darkness creeping into the edges of his vision.  He did not think he was losing consciousness, though.

Quirrell’s black flames rose on either side of Harry’s body as he landed among them.  He barely registered that fact before he felt the horrible burning pain in his back, stretching from his hips to the bottom of his shoulder blades.

Hundreds of feet apart, two children screamed in one voice.