CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE –
The Philosopher's Stone and Beyond
It was getting close to time. Harry knew this, but had been putting it out of his mind. With all of his changes to the time-line, he'd left Quirrell alone, simply because he didn't want to change history over the Philosopher's stone. With the exception of making friends, there wasn't really anything worth changing until third year.
So far, he'd been doing well. The addition of Blaise Zabini to his small circle of friends would make a radical difference in the days to come. The Zabini family led the neutral families, those who would not get involved with the Order or with the Death Eaters in the war to come. With Blaise on his side, there would be a chance to get their support, a worthwhile goal.
The other main additions to the timeline would work well for him. He and Hermione were closer than ever. He knew, in his heart, that this was not his Hermione, but she had the potential to become so, and far sooner that the original time-line. This time, they would be pure for each other; no bad history between them, no Ron belittling her at every opportunity, no crying Cho tackling him in the Room of Requirement, and no lust potion-fuelled 'romance' with Ginny Weasley.
With 'Stripeclaw' sending supplies to Sirius, including food and new robes, the man should be able to withstand Azkaban in better shape than originally, too. When he broke out in just over a year, Harry would be able to make sure he got settled in Grimmauld Place immediately. With no need to run, it would give him some much needed stability.
Before he could deal with the future, though, he had to worry about the now. The Philosopher's Stone. He'd kept Hermione abreast of the latest intelligence regarding it. She agreed with him that Snape seemed unlikely to be after the stone, but wasn't sure which of the teachers it would be.
Because neither of them had been caught sending Hagrid's baby dragon to Charlie, they hadn't been into the forest to chase down the dead unicorns. That meant that Hermione was essentially flying blind into the situation.
He wasn't, though. He knew the truth of what was happening. And he knew it would be happening soon.
Ron Weasley was still fuming over his many encounters with Harry Potter over the course of the school year. Instead of going into Gryffindor, where a hero of his stature was supposed to go, he ended up in the home of the nerd... bookworms. He'd made friends with Ravenclaw students, two Hufflepuffs, several Gryffindors, and even one slimy Slytherin. It was this last one that annoyed Ron.He was the perfect candidate to be Harry's friend; he was brave, resourceful and clever. And Harry had turned him down. It just didn't make sense.
Even more annoying to Ron was that Harry was making friends with the near-squib Longbottom. Neville had hung out with Ron earlier in the year, but after last Halloween, had started to drift away. Ron looked up when the very subject of his musings appeared.
"Ah, Neville!" Ron said jovially, determined to win back his 'friend'. "How're things going, mate?"
Neville, for all the rumours about him, was not a stupid person. He knew that Ron was insanely jealous of Harry Potter, and to a lesser degree, the people who associated with him. Since Neville was now one of those people, he guessed that Ron was trying to suck up to him to become closer to Potter.
"Things are going fine, Ron. Thanks for asking." Neville finished fishing around in his trunk, grabbing his books, before straightening up. "Well, as much as I've enjoyed this chat, really must get going." Neville straightened up, heading for the door.
"What are you doing at the moment?" Ron asked, not willing to let Neville out of his sight.
Shit. Neville thought. "Just going to the library. Got some last minute assignments to get up to date. End of year exams are only a fortnight away."
Ron's face lost all colour, becoming that special bright white that only Daz can give you. His jaw flapped for a couple of moments, before it clamped shut and he swallowed. "Can I come with you? I forgot all about the exams..."
Neville led Ron into the library, going to the back corner, where Hermione had commandeered a table during her first week. Even now, nobody else dared use it. It had become the unofficial group table for the new group of friends.Blaise had taken to helping the group revise, due to several key factors; he was naturally gifted at Potions, something none of the others were as good at as him, and second; he was a Slytherin, meaning that he was utterly favoured by Snape.
The rest of Harry's friends expected good marks on the end of year exams, since Harry and Hermione were definitely the top two students in their year.
Neville dropped into his usual chair, pulling out his books and notes. Harry looked up, nodding with a warm grin at Neville, until he spotted Ron loitering at the end of the table. "Weasley." He said neutrally. "Something we can do for you?"
Ron shifted from one foot to the other uneasily, before he gathered his courage. "Uh... I was hoping I could do some studying with you."
Hermione glanced up, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why?"
"What?" Ron asked.
"Why do you want to study with us?" She asked patiently. "Why wait until a fortnight before the exams before you start to study?"
"Uh... well... I was very busy before now." Ron stammered. "I only just managed to get some free time."
Hermione glanced at Harry, both of them sending a message of 'Bullshit!' with their eyes. Harry nodded slightly, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine." Hermione said, pointing at an empty chair. "You can join us."
Ron grinned and threw himself into the chair.
"But..." Hermione continued. "If you dick about, you're gone." She looked at Susan, Blaise, Padma and Neville. "We will not do your work for you." Ron nodded vigorously. "Now, what assignments have you got outstanding?"
The redhead reached into his bag, pulling out a stack of parchment almost two inches thick.
Oh, you have got to be kidding. Hermione thought, as she saw weeks, possibly months worth of assignments. "When are they due?"
Ron looked down sheepishly. "By the end of the week." He muttered.
Harry started to rub the bridge of his nose. "Ron," He said tiredly. "it's Wednesday today. You've got two days to do, what looks like, months of assignments."
"I know." Ron snapped. "That's not exactly helpful, you know!"
Harry's eyebrow raised, and his tone cooled. "There's no need to take that tone with me, Weasley. It's not our fault that you couldn't be bothered to do your bloody homework. What were you doing instead? Watching Quidditch? Playing chess?"
"What of it?" Ron snapped again.
"Nothing." Hermione said simply. "But like I said, we're not doing your work for you. We're here to revise, because we're up to date with our own work, and we want to pass our exams."
Realising that being defensive wasn't getting him anything, Ron switched tactics. "Okay, I'm sorry. But, if you could find some time to help me..."
Susan sighed. "What do you need?" Ron smiled warmly at her, as he took the first piece of parchment off his pile.
The group buckled down for almost four minutes, before it happened. "Ron, we said we're not doing it for you? Don't you think they'd notice if your assignment is in my handwriting?" Susan near-shrieked.
"You said you'd help!" Ron protested.
"And we said we're not doing it for you!" All six of them said to him as one. "Jesus, Weasley, which part of that didn't you get?"
Ron held up his hands. "I-I..."
"No." Harry said firmly. "Ron, if you want help, such as a suggestion on where to find a certain topic, we'll do that. If you want us to check your spelling after you've completed the assignment, we'll do that. If you want us to do your work for you so you can go back and listen to the bloody Cannon/Tornado match on the wireless, you can piss off now."
Ron just scowled, grabbing his parchment and shoving it back into his bag. "If you won't help, fine!" He picked up his bag and stalked out of the library.
"What a tool." Blaise commented dryly. He turned to Neville. "I pity you, my friend, having to share a dormitory with him."
Neville just nodded. "He snores, too."
All of them shuddered, before getting back to work.
The two weeks of revision passed smoothly, thanks to Hermione's perfect revision study guide. Even Snape's evil potions exam gained them all perfect marks.A couple of days before the end of year feast, Harry watched Dumbledore receive a piece of mail. He could see from the arrogant nature of the owl carrying it that it was from the Ministry of Magic.
It will happen tonight. Harry thought, momentarily channelling Professor Trelawney. Dumbledore will leave the school, giving Quirrell the perfect opportunity to go after the stone. He chuckled. Quirrell... it wasn't nice knowing you.
"It's time." Harry said ominously, later than night. Hermione looked up from her book, noting the intense look on Harry's face, and the slight glow of his eyes. She'd only seen this a couple of times, but she knew that when Harry was feeling an intense emotion, his eyes actually lit up. It was kinda cool..."T-time?" She stammered.
Harry nodded, standing smoothly. "We have to go now. It's starting." He held out his hand to Hermione.
"This is dangerous, Harry." Hermione said, taking his hand and pulling herself to her feet. "This could get us in real trouble."
The two started to walk to the portrait hole. "I prefer to think of it as the lesser of two evils. Yes, we could get in trouble, but what would happen if Voldemort or someone like him was able to get their hands on the Philosopher's Stone? It provides an unlimited amount of gold, not to mention an immortality serum. That's two kinds of power I wouldn't want Voldemort to get hold of."
"Two?"
Harry just looked at her. "Immortality, and economics. With those, he could literally take over the world without a drop of blood being spilt. Rather scary, if you ask me."
The two passed through the corridors, descending from the fifth floor, where the Ravenclaw common room was, to the third floor, and the forbidden corridor.
Hermione pulled him to a stop, ducking into one of the many niches in the wall as Mrs. Norris stalked past. "Harry?" she whispered.
"Hmm?" Harry whispered back, keeping a close eye on the demonic feline.
"Can we really do this?"
Harry chuckled. "Yes." He said quietly, but firmly. "We can do this. We will do this, Hermione. You and me... we can take on the bloody world."
She grinned at his declaration, and took his hand. "Let's get it done."
Without another word, the young heroes entered the forbidden corridor, Harry silently waving his wand at the locked door. With a muffled 'click', it opened, revealing the contents to Hermione for the first time.
"What the bloody hell is that?" She whispered harshly, spotting the sleeping Fluffy. The sound of soft music filled the background, overpowered by Fluffy's roaring snores.
Harry just glanced at her. "I do believe that's a Cerberus, Hermione." He just pointed his wand, watching a bright red bolt erupt from the end, slamming into the sleeping dog. With another casual flick, Harry levitated the colossal animal away from the trapdoor it had been sleeping on.
"How'd you know that was there?" Hermione asked, drawing her own wand.
Harry just looked sheepish. "It's about the only reason to have an immense guard dog in an empty room." Ever since his Quantum Leap into the past, he'd become so much better at acting, he mused to himself.
"You know, this reminds me of a cartoon I saw when I was a kid." He looked at Hermione, lowering his voice as he started quoting. "There's nothing compared to the horrors that lurk, beneath the trap door. For there is always something down there, in the dark, waiting to come out."
"Behave, Harry." Hermione said, trembling slightly as she heard his ominous tone.
"Well, shall we see where the rabbit hole leads, Alice?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"Of course, White Rabbit." Hermione said. She was about to step forward, when she hesitated.
"I'll go first." Harry said, rolling his eyes as he jumped. Hermione peered through the trap door, seeing nothing in the darkness.
After a few moments, a deep, evil-sounding voice rang out "Berk! Feed me!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Funny bastard, aren't you, Harry..." She muttered as she jumped.
She fell for what felt like miles. I do hope I don't go 'splat' on the bottom. She mused absently. All too soon, she could see something rushing up at her. She braced herself, closing her eyes, only to feel something soft and squishy wrap itself around her. She opened her eyes to see Harry sat on top of the squishy mass, looking at her, his eyes twinkling."Hey, there. Fancy seeing you here."
Hermione scowled at him. "You have a rotten sense of humour, you know."
"I know." Harry smiled at her. "It's one of my many crosses to bear. Being the 'Boy-Who-Lived', I have so many. Incredibly intelligent, rakishly handsome... it's a wonder I stay sane."
"Sometimes I doubt that." Hermione mumbled. Harry just looked at her and grinned. Okay... rakishly handsome isn't that inaccurate. She thought. Damn him. Why does he affect me so much? Those were thoughts for another time, though. At the moment, she needed to concentrate on surviving the rest of the evening.
"So, where do we go from here?" Harry asked her, bringing her musing back to the present. "And what's this stuff we're on?"
Hermione's brain raced through her Herbology books. "Should have brought Neville." She muttered. "This is Devil's Snare, Harry."
"That's nice." Harry said slowly. "And why exactly would Devil's Snare be at the bottom of a trap door?"
"It must be one of the defences for the stone." Hermione said, already feeling the Snare start to grip her tighter. "It'll tighten on us until we die."
Harry just stared at her. "Huh... and we stop this... how?"
Flicking through pages in her mental textbooks, Hermione was silent for a moment, until she came upon the answer. "Heat! Devil's Snare hates heat and light. Damn, if only we had some wood, we could start a fire!"
Chuckling, Harry just raised his wand. "Or we could hit it with an Incendio and jump through the hole it makes."
"Or... we could do that, yeah." Hermione mumbled, looking embarrassed. She raised her wand. "Incendio!" A series of flames came out of the end of her wand, forcing the quivering plant to open a hole. Hermione jumped through, quickly re-aiming her wand when she landed on the floor, making sure to keep the hole open.
A moment later, Harry somersaulted through the hole, landing neatly on his feet. Hermione lowered her wand, watching the hole quickly reseal itself.
"Well... that was bracing." Harry said, looking around. "Shall we carry on?"
Hermione said nothing, just reached out and took his hand, following his lead. She started walking, wincing slightly as the path started to incline downwards.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, noticing the wince.
Marvellous. Hermione thought, seeing the worry on his face. How do I answer that? "Uh... I, uh... I landed on my bum."
Harry chuckled. "I'd offer to kiss it better, but the memory of that talk with your Dad last Christmas springs to mind."
Heat rushed into Hermione's cheeks as she realised the implications of Harry's statement. Looking down, she mumbled. "I doubt you'd want to kiss my arse, Potter."
Biting down on his lip was the only way he could avoid saying that in the future, she'd rather enjoyed that. He just pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Do you want to rest up for a bit?"
Hermione stared at him suspiciously. For a moment, she'd almost heard a comment in her mind that made her blush even harder. Surely not... She pulled on his hand, forcing him to stop. "Harry?"
"Yes?" Harry stared at her intently.
"C-Can I... ask you something." Hermione whispered.
"Hermione," Harry said softly, "you can ask me anything, at any time. You know I won't laugh at you, or tell you to leave me alone." He squeezed her hand. "What's on your mind?"
"Why are you my friend?" She whispered, even quieter than before.
"Eh?" Harry asked, leaning closer.
"Why are you my friend?" Hermione repeated, a little louder this time.
"A-Am... am I not good enough to be your friend?" Harry asked in a small voice. "Are you having second thoughts?" This was something that Harry had been fearing ever since he met her in Flourish and Blotts last August; his changes to the timeline would affect his relationship with Hermione negatively. Instead of becoming a couple sooner, he'd drive her away.
"Merlin, no!" Hermione exclaimed, squeezing Harry's hand almost painfully. "That's not what I meant at all, Harry! I'm not good enough to be your friend."
Harry looked at her like she was a particularly stubborn stain on a favourite shirt. "Hermione... for the brightest witch to attend Hogwarts, you can be rather dim sometimes."
Hermione huffed at him for a moment. "And what does that mean?"
"Hermione, have I, at any point in the ten, eleven months that I've known you, given you any indication that I think you're anything other than a perfect friend?"
"No." Hermione mumbled, looking down. She felt Harry's callused fingers gently lift her chin up. She held her breath for a moment as she realised how close he was to her. Their lips were barely inches apart.
"And do you know why that is?" He asked softly.
"No."
"Because, my sweet Hermione, you're everything I could want in a friend." Or a girlfriend, or a lover, or a wife. He added silently.
Hermione's eyes shot directly to his, as though she heard his thoughts. "Harry... can I ask you something else?"
Harry shrugged. "Sure."
"Do you remember... what you said to my Dad at Christmas?" Hermione started to nibble on her bottom lip, causing Harry's eyes to drop as he watched her.
"Of course I do." He answered after a moment.
"Did you really mean it?"
Harry just stared at her for a moment, drinking in the image of her face, superimposing it on the face of her older self, merging the two together. "I assume you mean the part about wanting to date you?" She nodded jerkily. "Hermione... how could I not want to?" He stared intently at her again. "Do you want to?"
She nodded, letting the gesture trail off. "More than anything, Harry. You can't know..." She shook her head. "The thing is, Harry... how will people react? The most famous wizard in the world dating a mousy, ugly, boring little bookworm."
"I don't know." Harry replied. "I want to date you, not some mousy, ugly, boring little bookworm."
Hermione rolled his eyes at his lying gesture. "Harry-" She broke off as Harry pushed her against one of the stone walls, his hands tightly on her shoulders.
"Shut up!" He hissed. "How dare you say such things about my girlfriend!"
She couldn't help but grin at his gesture. "Harry..." He shook his head. "Look... haven't you heard some of the gossip going around the school?"
"Nope. Don't listen to gossip." Harry replied simply, still staring directly in her eyes. Instead of making her uncomfortable, she found this oddly relaxing.
"Harry, people have been saying that you need to marry a pureblood, and make as many powerful babies as you can." She chuckled as a new thought popped into her head. "There's even a group of third years who have decided to try and become your harem."
Harry snorted. "A Harem? Why the hell would I want a Harem?" He saw Hermione's mouth open, and carried on. "There's only one woman I want... and she's stood about six inches in front of me."
Hermione's jaw snapped shut, and she blushed.
"Now, as much as I'd like to continue this conversation, we really should go and save the Philosopher's Stone." Harry resisted the urge to kiss her, and stepped back, not releasing her hand. "Let's go."
They carried on down the corridor, entering a large chamber. Harry heard a slight fluttering, and looked up. Ah, Flitwick's flying keys.He glanced at Hermione. She wanted to practice flying. What better time than this? "Hermione?"
She'd made her way over to the other door, casting an 'Alohomora' on the lock. Nothing happened. She turned to face him. "The unlocking spell doesn't work. We must need a specific key."
Harry just pointed up to the small legion of flying keys. "Must be up there."
She nodded, seeing the pair of broomsticks on the other side of the door they entered through. "Well... you're the seeker, Harry. Why don't you go and get it?"
"You wanted the flying practice, Hermione." Harry replied, grinning at her. "Why don't you go and get it?"
Mumbling under her breath, Hermione grabbed one of the battered brooms, mounting it carefully. "You'll catch me if I fall?" She asked softly.
"I promised I would." Harry replied, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at her with pride on his face. "You can do it, Hermione."
"I'll try." She said dubiously.
"No." Harry said firmly. "Do. Or do not. There is no 'try'."
Hermione just rolled her eyes at the Star Wars reference. "You know I'm a Trekker, Harry. Star Wars was a bitter disappointment."
"Just go and get the bloody key, will ya?"
She gave him a dirty look, then kicked off. For a couple of moments, she wobbled uncertainly in the air, before she gathered her wits, smoothing out the ride. She started to soar amongst the keys, looking for the one that should fit the lock.
"Look for a damaged wing!" Harry shouted up. "If it's been stuffed into a lock-"
"Yes!" Hermione shouted back, cutting him off. "If you know better, why don't you come up here and capture the bloody thing?"
'Cause I need you to be as prepared as possible. Harry thought, reaching out with his hand, summoning the other broom to him wandlessly. "The practice is good for you!" Harry shouted back, keeping the broom hovering next to him.
Hermione just mouthed a few words. From his prone position, Harry didn't catch all of them, but there did seem to be several anatomically impossible suggestions, as well as general comments about his sanity and parentage. She accelerated, searching through the keys with a methodical efficiency. Less than two minutes later... "Found it!"
Harry mock-cheered. "All right. Now, go get it!"
"I hate you sometimes, Harry." He heard her mumble as she accelerated after the key. She chased it around, circling round other keys that moved quicker, chasing her as she did the other. With a muffled yell, she grabbed the broken-winged key, as dozens of others slammed into the broom handle.
Hermione felt herself start to fall, the broom slipping out of her fingers. For an instant, gravity didn't exert it's hold, until she started to fall. Harry... you promised...
She was halfway to the ground, following the law of gravity, when a strong arm wrapped round her waist, swinging her up onto a soft wooden handle. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around her saviour's waist he the broom accelerated downwards, heading for the door.
Harry grabbed the key from Hermione's unresisting hand, throwing it towards the door, and using a little wandless magic to make sure it entered the keyhole. With a click of his fingers, the key turned, the door opening automatically. Harry aimed the broom at the just-opened door, accelerating to maximum speed as quickly as possible as he dropped.
The instant the broom passed through the entryway, he waved his hand, slamming the door shut behind them. He heard several sharp impacts in the door, the keys that had been pursuing them hitting heavily into the wood.
He pulled the broom to a stop, lowering it to the ground so they could both climb off. Hermione's hands were trembling as she clutched onto him. "H-Harry?"
Having to use a surprising amount of strength, Harry pried her hands loose, spinning round to look at her face. "Hermione? You okay?"
"You... you caught me..." She said slowly.
"As promised." Harry said, wrapping her in a firm hug. "I said I'd always be there to catch you."
She clung to him for a moment, as the terror started to subside. "Thank you." She said sincerely. I need to have a good long think about tonight...
Harry squeezed her a last time, then broke the hug. "So... we've had Professor Sprout's trap, the keys are obviously Flitwick's... I wonder what's next."
Harry moved forward from the antechamber, into a large darkened room. McGonagall's chess set. I wonder how good she actually is.A series of sconces along the walls ignited, revealing the giant chess set.
"Wizard's chess?" Hermione looked at Harry. "I can't play this!"
"I can." Harry said. "There's a couple of free spaces on the black side. What do you wanna be?"
Hermione glanced at the two free spaces; the king-side knight, and the queen-side rook. "I'll be the rook." She moved over to stand at the corner, looking at Harry nervously.
Harry mounted the knight's horse, grinning at Hermione. "I wonder just how good McGonagall is at chess."
"I'd rather not find out." Hermione said. "In chess, white moves first."
As she spoke, the white moved a pawn to A3. Harry grinned. "Pawn to D6!" The black pawn rumbled forward slowly. Harry looked up, seeing a white pawn move to H3.
"Queen to A4!" Harry commanded. The queen, looking rather vicious, moved forward, staring down at the pawn she was rapidly approaching.
The white side moved it's knight to F3.
"Bishop to F5!" Harry commanded. The white counter-attacked by moving it's knight to C3.
"Harry." Hermione called up. "That knight's in position to take your queen on the next move!"
"Not a problem." Harry said. "Queen to C2." The queen rumbled forward, decimating the pawn in that square. "Checkmate."
The large sword in the white king's hands fell forward, signalling it's surrender. Harry hopped off the horse he was astride, walking over to Hermione and taking her hand.
"That's it?" She asked. "Not much of a challenge, is it?"
Harry chuckled. "That's one of the easiest manoeuvres to block in chess." He shook his head. "I honestly can't believe McGonagall didn't build a defence against it."
"Maybe she thought it was too simple." Hermione took his hand, and sidled through the mostly-intact white side. "Still... good game, Harry."
He chuckled as they went through the door, only to hit the 'invisible wall'. "Sweet child of mine!" Harry gasped, wincing.
"A t-troll?" Hermione stammered, covering her nose with her mouth.
The troll, the source of the stench in the room, was unconscious, bleeding from a series of wounds on both torso and head.
"Well... whoever came down here before us must have taken it out." Harry said, breathing through his mouth in a futile attempt to block the eye-watering smell. "This one must be from Quirrell. He's the DADA teacher."
"Can we move on?" Hermione asked, tears in her eyes. "I'm gonna pass out from this stench, soon." Without another word, the two progressed on.
The last room contained a table with a series of bottles. "Joy." Harry dead-panned. "Potions."
Hermione picked up the piece of paper, quickly reading the riddle. Harry just watched her, almost seeing the synapses firing. Harry idly picked up a small bottle, as though looking in it.
"That's the one, Harry." Hermione said. "That potion will get you through the flames."
"There's only enough for one." Harry said, looking at her.
"I'll go back... get help." Hermione looked at him, concern and worry prominent on her face. "You're a great wizard, Harry." She said softly.
"Not as good as you." Harry said, smiling softly as he remembered this conversation from the first-time round.
"Me?" Hermione retorted. "Books... cleverness... There's more important things, Harry. Things like friendship, bravery and..." She trailed off.
"And love." Harry said, staring straight into her eyes. "You be careful going back, Hermione."
She lurched towards him, wrapping him in the tightest hug he'd ever experienced, in either life. He felt his body start to react to the presence of a warm, female body pressed against him, and took a small step back, so it wouldn't be obvious to her. "Be careful going forward, Harry." She mumbled into his neck. She leaned back, brushing her lips over his cheek. "Good luck."
Without another word, Hermione grabbed another bottle, drinking the contents, and rushing back to the first door. As she stepped through the flames, she looked over her shoulder to see Harry downing the other bottle, before he squared his shoulders.
Harry stepped through the flames, intent on facing Quirrell alone.
He passed through the door, stopping when he saw Quirrell-mort staring at the Mirror of Erised. "You!" He called out, managing to sound surprised.Quirrell turned round, an evil smile plastered onto his face. "Yes. Me."
"B-But... I thought Snape..." Harry stammered.
"Yes." Quirrell's voice was not longer timid and stuttering. He now exuded a smooth, silky confidence, that made Harry's skin crawl. "He does seem the type, doesn't he?"
Harry nodded absently, glancing around the large stone chamber. "Yeah, he does. He seems like the type to torture young children with Legilimency attacks."
Quirrell's face dropped slightly, before hardening. He raised his wand, casting a non-verbal 'Incarcerous'. Harry let the ropes hit him, inwardly rolling his eyes at the predictability of Quirrell, even without his future knowledge.
"Does he?" Quirrell asked, sounding thoroughly uninterested. "Well... he may have been attacking you, Potter, but he certainly kept an eye on me."
"Did he?" Harry asked, sounding equally bored. "I can't imagine why. You're such a useless nobody, you're barely worth my time, even now."
Quirrel nodded absently. "Yes... who would suspect p-p-poor s-s-stuttering Professor Q-Q-Quirrell?"
I did, you useless wanker. How you managed to survive for almost a year with Voldemort's mind in your body, I will never know. "So... why are you after the Philosopher's Stone?"
"I have my reasons. If it wasn't for Severus stopping me on Halloween, I'd've had it, and been out of here."
"Halloween?" Harry asked innocently. May as well let him have his moment. He'll be dead, soon enough.
"Yes, the troll."
Harry didn't need to feign his anger at this point. "You mean, you let the troll into school?" Quirrell nodded absently, as he listened to a voice only he could hear. Harry's voice became colder. "You let the troll into the school, which nearly hurt my Hermione?"
Quirrell looked up, and gave a type-2 Snape Sneer. "A Mudblood? Why should I care about a pitiful little Mudblood?"
Because, I'm going to kill you for her. Harry thought silently. "She is not a Mudblood, Quirrell!" He snapped. "She is a good person. Far better than you, you evil little prick!"
Quirrell laughed, a malevolent sound in the quiet air of the dungeon. "There is no good and evil, Potter. Only power, and those too weak to obtain it." He waved his wand at Harry, before glancing at the mirror again.
The ropes tightened, but Harry didn't bother to fight it. He knew he'd be able to break them. "Do you really believe that?" He asked, his voice full of innocent curiosity. He'd never had the chance to speak to Quirinus Quirrell before, and was oddly curious as to his views. "Do you really believe there's no such thing as good and evil?"
Quirrell stopped, and for a moment, his eyes cleared, before glazing over slightly, a sure sign of possession. "Yes, I do. There's no such thing as right and wrong, either."
Harry, always up for a philosophical debate, carried on. "I disagree. You're saying that it's perfectly okay to kill someone to gain power?" Quirrell just nodded. "What happens at the end, though? When you've killed everybody else, and you're the ultimate power on the Earth, simply because there's no-one else? What do you do then?"
Quirrell just shrugged. "My master commands, Potter. I obey. Now, you will stand there, while I investigate this mirror." Quirrell turned his back on Harry, checking out the Mirror of Erised intently.
Harry could feel another Legilimency assault on his mental shields, almost laughing as it bounced away.
"I don't understand..." Quirrell muttered. "Is it inside the mirror? Do I need to break it?"
You colossal prat!Harry thought. You really don't understand what you're doing here, do you? You're in, way over your head. He snorted. Ironic, considering Voldemort's actually in your head.
"Use the boy." Another voice sounded.
And there's Tom! Honestly, how did I ever let this little git frighten me...
"Come here, Potter!" Quirrell roared. The ropes binding Harry loosened, allowing him to shake them off. In the original time-line, he'd meekly walked forward to look into the mirror.
"No." Harry said. "I'll tell you what. If you decide now to denounce the degenerate wimp that you're serving, I'll make sure you survive."
Quirrell looked taken aback. "Come here!" He snapped. "You will look into this mirror, and tell me where the stone is!"
Harry just shook his head, chuckling at Quirrell.
"Let me speak to him..." The other voice called weakly.
Quirrell looked down. "Master, you are not strong enough."
He really isn't. It's pathetic, really.Harry thought, watching Quirrell change from a powerful villain, into a mewling sycophant, in less than a second. In a sad way, it was quite impressive.
"I have strength enough for this..." Quirrell said nothing, just began to reach up, and unwrap the smelly turban from his head. As more and more of the cloth came off, the stench in the chamber increased.
"Jesus..." Harry muttered, breathing through his mouth.
When the last of the turban was removed, Harry came face-to-face with the killer of his wife and parents. "Voldemort." Harry said calmly.
"Potter!" The face spat. "See what I have been reduced to..."
Harry just nodded. "Yes." He replied casually. "You know, that's never gonna heal if you don't stop picking at it."
Voldemort hissed at him. "Where is the stone?"
Harry ignored Voldemort's face, and looked at Quirrell's reflection in the mirror. "This is your only chance, Professor Quirrell. If you don't renounce Voldemort..."
Voldemort just laughed, while Quirrell gulped nervously. "You're an interesting child, Potter. What sort of man would you be if you just killed us?"
Harry smiled, a death's-head smile. "No second chances." He said firmly. "I'm that sort of a man."
"Kill him!" Voldemort hissed savagely. Quirrell-mort spun round, raising his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" The bolt of green light tore through the air to Harry, who simply ducked as the lethal curse approached.
"Dull, dull, dull." Harry retorted, not drawing his own wand. He suddenly stopped, looking around the room. Quirrell-mort stopped moving, looking at Harry.
"What is wrong with you now, idiot boy!" Voldemort snapped from the back of Quirrell's head.
"Do you hear them?" Harry asked, cocking his head as though listening to something.
"Hear what?" Quirrell asked, looking around the room.
"The drums." Harry said quietly, pulling his wand from his sleeve. He started tapping out a four-note beat, waiting a second, before tapping out the beat again. "Can't you hear them? The constant... drumming..."
Voldemort looked at the reflection in the mirror, seeing Harry stood in the middle of the chamber, tapping out some kind of beat on his wand. "You're insane!"
Harry smiled, giving Voldemort two thumbs up. "Yep. Here! Come! The! Drums!" Using his magic to reinforce his legs, Harry leapt forward, soaring through the air, intent on landing a blow to Quirrell's face. He'd made his choice. Harry had given the man two opportunities to evict Voldemort from his body, and he'd rejected them both. Considering that was two more chances than he normally gave, Harry was feeling pretty unmerciful.
Just as he was about to land a punch, Quirrell ducked out of the way, leaving Harry to twist in mid-air, landing on one knee, his back inches from the mirror. He quickly looked inside, seeing his reflection wink and drop a stone into his pocket. Harry felt the sharp, lumpy rock fall into his own pocket, before he turned to face Quirrell.
"Ya give up, or are ya thirsty for more?" He snarled, raising his wand.
Volde-Quirrell just laughed, raising his wand, sending three AK's at Harry. With an impressive display of gymnastics, Harry ducked, rolled and jumped over all three curses, slowly inching his way forward.
"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!" Harry sang softly, still making his way closer. "Come to death, Tommy-boy!" He suddenly lurched forward, grabbing Quirrell's hand, letting the blood protection from Lily Potter burn through the skin like a massively intense burst of radiation.
Quirrell screamed, dropping the way, before raising the smoking stump to his eyes. "M-master? What sort of magic is this?"
"Kill the boy!" Voldemort demanded shrilly.
"Aw... does it hurt?" Harry asked. Quirrell looked up, to see Harry stood there, his hands held in front of him, outlined faintly in green. When Quirrell looked into his eyes, he felt a chill down to his very soul. Even Voldemort felt it. There was nothing human in that gaze. It spoke of a rage so intense, planets would burn from it.
Harry's face was rock hard, showing a cold emotionlessness that made Quirrell's bowels release automatically. Harry just leaned forward, one of the glowing hands resting on Quirrell's face, while the other wrapped around the back of his head.
See how you like being touched, Voldemort, you bastard! Harry thought viciously. His scar flared with a migraine worthy of song, if the song was very, very quiet. Harry had felt so much pain in his life that this was just a minor twinge.
The faces he was clutching had started to desiccate, turning to dust underneath his fingers. Quirrell was dead now, only the faint traces of power from Voldemort's mangled soul holding the corpse together.
Harry kept his grip, waiting until the powder started to drop to the floor. Harry dropped the dried mass, and headed back to the mirror.
So... the boy is not powerless, after all? Voldemort's spirit, the last section of his mauled soul, floated up from the debris of Quirrell's body.Harry turned, seeing the spirit rise, and decided to let it go. With all of the research he'd done up-time, he could probably have bound the soul fragment to any piece of debris in the chamber, but decided to let him leave... for now.With a scream, the soul fragment soared forward, plunging itself through Harry's body, before heading for one of the tiny cracks in the ceiling, and freedom.
Harry shivered, as the soul fragment stole away a piece of his magic, enough to get it back to... wherever the hell it was going. His core would regenerate by morning, leaving him whole and healthy. With a sigh, he sat in front of the mirror, keeping his back to it, while he conjured up a deck of playing cards, and began to play 'Patience'.
Dumbledore, followed by McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape and Hermione, tore through the chambers, bypassing each method of protection. He cast an Incendio so hot, it obliterated the Devil's Snare, summoned the summon-proof flying key, blew up the chess set, and breathed through his mouth when going past the troll.When he entered Snape's Potion/Logic chamber, he cast a flame-freezing charm, before stalking ahead. All five had their wands out, ready for battle.
Dumbledore opened the door, a Stupefy on his lips, when he noticed the desiccated corpse on the floor. He stopped in mid-stride, causing McGonagall to run directly into his back. Gingerly, he stepped into the chamber, followed by the rest. With a squeak, Hermione charged forward towards Harry, who held up his hand.
She looked down, to see Harry with a nearly-complete game of Patience. Two more cards flipped over, allowing Harry to complete the game. He stood up and grabbed Hermione in a fierce hug.
"Harry, you did it!" She squealed softly.
Harry nodded, and mumbled something into her bushy hair. He wouldn't repeat it to her face, and no-one else had heard it. I love you, Hermione.
Dumbledore cleared his throat after thirty seconds of being ignored. Hermione squeaked again and pulled back, blushing furiously.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore, sir." Harry said politely. "You're looking well. I assume, from your presence, that your business at the Ministry was completed successfully?"
Dumbledore was stunned that little eleven-year old Harry Potter was sounding so calm, after facing what had obviously been a very stressful evening. "Uh... yes, Harry. It was. Are you... okay?"
Harry just grinned. "I'm fine, sir. Had a very enlightening evening, myself, sir."
Snape snarled softly. "What in the name of Merlin happened here, Potter!"
Pointedly ignoring the arrogant burke, Harry looked at Dumbledore. "Was there anything else, sir?"
"Professor Snape asked a question, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, eyeing Snape warily. "It may have been a little ruder than I would have asked it," there was a warning in the voice that even the thickest man on the planet couldn't have missed, "but it is still valid. What happened?"
Harry just shrugged, keeping one arm around Hermione's waist. She unconsciously leaned backwards, resting herself against him. "Well, sir, Professor Quirrell thought it'd be a marvellous time to steal Nicholas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. Naturally, sir, I disagreed."
"And?" Snape demanded petulantly.
"We had a bit of a barney, sir." Harry said, not taking his eyes off Dumbledore.
"Professor Quirrell?" McGonagall said, her Scottish brogue becoming thicker. "Where is he?"
Harry pointed at the pile of black dust and clothing. "That would be what's left of him. Seems his body couldn't handle Voldemort being stuck in the back of his head."
"Do you think we could go up to my office, and discuss this in more detail, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked calmly.
"Certainly, sir."
Flitwick's office amused Harry. Half of it was in half-scale, in relation to Flitwick's diminutive stature, while the other half was in conventional size. The group settled down, the teachers on one side of the desk, while Harry and Hermione shared a seat on the other."So, what happened, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked softly.
"Basically, sir," Harry began, idly conjuring a tray of Hot Chocolate, which he offered to Hermione, then pushed the tray forward to the teachers. "myself and Hermione found out that Flamel's stone was being protected inside the school. We found out that Professor Dumbledore had left the premises, and deduced that it was the perfect time for someone to go after the stone.
"We went up to the third floor corridor, sang to Fluffy..." Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "Do you think we could get Hagrid to rename him, sir? I mean, a twelve-foot Cerberus called 'Fluffy' is a bit much, don't you think?" He shrugged, and carried on. "We passed Fluffy," pause for snigger, "jumped down the trap door, and landed on Professor Sprout's Devil's Snare. Set fire to it, flew on the broom to get the key, and may I say, Professor Flitwick, that was an evil little key?"
Flitwick just grinned.
"Anyway, went on to Professor McGonagall's giant chess set," Harry winked at her. "beat it in four moves," McGonagall started sputtering, "went past Professor Quirrell's troll, which was already unconscious, and got to the final challenge, Snape's potions."
Snape sneered.
"Hermione figured out which bottle was the anti-Flame potion, but there was only enough for one. She took the other potion, and came back up to find some help, while I went on ahead."
I will not tell you that she kissed me, and that I was nursing a semi when I went through that door. Harry thought to himself. "I got into the final chamber to see Professor Quirrell looking at the Mirror of Erised." Harry smirked at Dumbledore. "Nice challenge, by the way, sir. Took me almost ten seconds to figure it out."
Dumbledore pouted for a moment, before marshalling his face, and starting his eyes to twinkle. "Ten seconds, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what was the challenge?" Dumbledore asked, raising his brow to his hairline.
"Well, Professor Quirrell wanted to give the stone to someone. I just wanted to make sure the stone was safe, but I didn't want to use. Logic suggests that there was an enchantment on the mirror, making it so that only someone who wanted to find the stone, findit, but not use it, would be able to retrieve it." Harry smiled winningly at Dumbledore.
"Hmm." Dumbledore was devastated. "Ten seconds?"
"About that, sir." Harry said. An elbow to his side brought his grin under control. "So, Quirrell took his turban off, which reeked, by the way, to show that he had another face, on the back of his head."
McGonagall made an odd gasping sound, which she quickly smothered.
"The head identified itself as Voldemort..." Harry suddenly looked up. "Was he always that ugly, sir?" He asked innocently. "'Cause, he had a face which only a mother could love."
Flitwick and McGonagall snickered, Snape rolled his eyes, and Dumbledore twinkled.
"Even then, I bet they had to hang a lamb chop around his neck so the dog would play with him. Anyway, we had a verbal joust, which he lost, then he attacked me, shot four AKs at me, all missed, then grabbed me. His hand started to burn, so I grabbed his head until he turned into dust."
There was a few seconds of absolute silence. Harry could hear the ticking of a watch, and took a quiet slurp of his hot chocolate. Everyone seemed to be a little flabbergasted, except for Harry, who just sat calmly, drinking his chocolate.
"You've had a busy evening, Mr. Potter." Flitwick said.
"Yes, sir." Harry replied. "I'm a bit tired, as well."
"I do believe a good night's sleep will do wonders for you, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, taking control of the meeting. "Perhaps a visit to the Hospital Wing may be in order?"
"Are you feeling unwell, sir?" Harry asked innocently. "You should be careful, sir. At your age-" Harry was interrupted for another shot to his ribs from Hermione. He yelped, before glaring at her for a moment. "No, thank you, sir. I'll be fine. With your permission?"
Dumbledore just nodded, as Harry stood up, taking Hermione's hand in his. As they walked out of the door, Dumbledore could hear Harry's indignant protests. "Was it necessary to keep hitting me in the ribs, woman?"
Dumbledore was about to say something to Flitwick, when a small item flew through the open doorway. Without thinking, Dumbledore caught it, and took a look. It was the Philosopher's Stone.
Harry ran back to Hermione, who was waiting further down the hallway with a small scowl on her face. "You could have just handed that to him, Harry." She mock-scolded."Where's the fun in that?" He asked her, wrapping his arm around her waist. They carried on towards the Ravenclaw common room.
"So, what was that 'verbal joust' you had?" Hermione asked, reaching down and taking hold of Harry's hand.
"Huh?" Harry looked over. "Oh, after he called you a Mudblood," Harry hissed for a moment, "I told him that you were a good person." He stopped, causing her to stop as well. "It was Quirrell who let the troll in at Halloween, you know?"
She shook her head. "It's his fault I almost died..." She whispered to herself.
"Well, he won't be doing it again, Hermione." Harry said, wrapping her in a tight hug. "I'll always be there to protect you."
"I'll hold you to that, Harry." She whispered, squeezing him back, before pulling away, and grabbing hold of his hand again. "So, you were saying?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I told him that you're a good person, and he said 'there's no such thing as good and evil. There's only power, and those too weak to obtain it'."
"That's bollocks, Harry." Hermione said primly.
"I know that." Harry replied calmly. "I told him there's good and evil, and right and wrong. He disagreed. After that, he attacked me. Which means he couldn't come up with a retort. Ergo, I won."
Hermione just laughed softly, before opening the portrait hole. Once back in the empty common room, the two stopped in front of the fire. Hermione just stared at Harry, while he stared back.
"So..." she said, not sure where to go from here.
"So..." Harry replied. He reached up one hand slowly, resting it against her cheek, while he stroked under her eye gently with his thumb. "Been a pretty eventful evening... wouldn't you say?"
Hermione leaned forward slightly, feeling the pressure of Harry's hand on her cheek increase. "Y-Yes..." She breathed. "Hell of a night." What the hell is he doing to me? She thought. Harry's thumb was sending sensations all over her face and neck. Her eyes fluttered closed.
"You know... we should probably head up to bed." Harry said, smiling gently at her.
Hermione's eyes shot open, looking at him incredulously. "Harry..."
"Our own beds, Hermione." He replied, looking very amused as the conclusion she'd leapt to.
He leaned close, pressing a kiss against her forehead, before stepping back. "Sweet dreams, sweet Hermione." He vanished up the stairs, looking back.
She reached up and touched the top of her forehead, feeling her skin tingle from his kiss. "Goodnight, sweet prince." She whispered, before heading up her own stairs.
Hermione woke the following morning, feeling exhausted. She'd spent a good portion of the night pondering what had happened with Harry the night before. He'd told her that she was the best friend he could ever hope for, and wanted her to be his girlfriend. Even though she was only twelve, she knew that he would be an exceptional boyfriend. She couldn't wait to see him today. She showered, manhandled her hair into something resembling control, dressed, and dashed downstairs.She looked around the common room for Harry, but couldn't see him. She glanced at the stairs, noticing Terry Boot making his way down. She didn't think much of Boot. Yeah, he was clever, as almost all Ravenclaws were, but he was so deathly dull. "Morning, Terry." She said cheerfully.
Boot looked startled. "Er... morning, Granger."
"Have you seen Harry this morning?" She asked.
"No. Heard him, though. He was up at the crack of bloody dawn. Showered and buggered off, letting the rest of us go back to sleep."
"Oh. Thanks, Terry." Hermione said, turning away from him. She plopped onto the couch, grabbing a book off the coffee table. Terry just shrugged, and headed for the portrait hole. It opened, revealing the last person Boot would have expected to be there.
"Good morning, Headmaster." He said respectfully.
"Good morning, Mr. Boot." Dumbledore replied, stepping aside so Terry could leave. The terrified first year scurried away, leaving Dumbledore chuckling, before heading over to Hermione.
"Have you seen Mr. Potter, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.
Hermione looked up from her reading, to see the Headmaster stood just inside the portrait hole. "Not since yesterday, sir." She replied politely. "I was thinking about going and finding him for a spot of lunch."
Flitwick made his way into the common room, needing to speak with one of the prefects. He stopped when he saw the Headmaster inside his house. "Albus? Is everything all right?"
"Fine, Filius." Dumbledore replied. "I was just needing to speak to young Mr. Potter about his summer arrangements."