The exams were easier than Hermione had expected. The greatest problem was her worry for Harry; often he would suddenly look up from his parchment and stare at the classroom door. He also kept rubbing his scar; he said it burned almost constantly since their detention in the Forest. But there was nothing she could do, so she focused on her exams, trying to ignore the summer heat. They were using special quills that were enchanted with an Anti-Cheating spell for the written exams. Hermione idly wondered how they worked, if it was possible to enchant quills for other uses too and how hard it would be to break the spell – not that she would ever consider cheating.
The practical parts of the exams were more interesting. Professor Flitwick told them to make a pineapple tap-dance across a table, rating the intricacy of the dance. Professor McGonagall let them turn a mouse into a snuffbox. Hermione managed to produce a beautiful wooden box painted in a complicated pattern. Professor McGonagall called it quite remarkable, and Hermione left the classroom skipping. Snape had them brew a Forgetfulness Potion. Hermione only hoped he wouldn't test it on them, because they still had their History of Magic exam, which was only about memorizing dates and names. They spent their afternoons in the Common Room or on the grounds, going over their notes again and again. Harry and Ron were using her History of Magic notes, of course, because they had slept through most of Professor Binns' classes.
The exam ended with all the students cheering. Exams were over and they had nothing to do for a week. Even classes would be very lax; according to the second-years most teachers spent their time answering any random questions students might have and teaching obscure but rather useless spells they were never tested on.
“That was far easier than I thought it would be,” Hermione told Harry and Ron as they left the castle together with the other students. “I needn't have learnt about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager.”
“Hermione, don't,” Ron said tiredly. Unlike her, he didn't want to talk about the exams at all. She sighed but said nothing. They wandered down to the lake and laid down under their favourite tree, were they had spent a lot of time revising lately. All around them students were sitting, talking and laughing. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan had their own kind of fun: they were standing in the shallows of the lake, tickling the tentacles of the giant squid. The tentacles twitched and occasionally dunked one of them into the water, but all in all the squid seemed to enjoy it.
Ron stretched out on the grass and looked at the deep blue sky.
“No more revision,” he said dreamily. “You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet.”
Harry, however, was obviously not worrying about exam results. He was rubbing his scar.
“I wish I knew what this means!” he suddenly said angrily. “My scar keeps hurting – it's happened before, but never as often as this.”
“Go to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested.
“I'm not ill. I think it's a warning ... it means danger's coming.”
“Harry, relax,” Ron said, “Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down.”
Hermione had rolled over so she could see the boys. Ron was still lying on his back. His head was slightly tilted so that he could look at Harry, who was sitting up next to him. His face was incredibly freckly, making a nice contrast to his red hair, which was glowing in the sunlight.
Harry nodded, but still looked thoughtful. His green eyes seemed darker than usual. His black, permanently messy hair was parted at the fringe so that Hermione could see his scar. It was definitely more visible, though that might have come from Harry's constant rubbing.
“I just have this strange feeling,” he said. “As if I've forgotten something, something important. Maybe I ought to borrow Neville's Remembrall.”
“That's just the exams,” said Hermione. “I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one.”
Harry looked very sceptic. His eyes were following something in the sky. Hermione looked up. An owl was fluttering towards the school, something clutched in its beak. That reminded Hermione that she should send her parents a letter.
Suddenly Harry jumped up.
“Where are you going?” said Ron sleepily.
“I've just thought of something,” Harry answered, already walking quickly away. “We've got to go and see Hagrid, now.”
Ron and Hermione jumped up and hurried after him.
“Why?” Hermione asked, breathing heavily. It was definitely too hot for exercise, especially if that exercise consisted of running up a hill.
“Don't you think it's a bit odd,” said Harry without slowing down, “that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?”
Hermione could have slapped herself. It was so obvious.
“What are you on about?” Ron asked, but he got no answer.
They ran across the grounds to find Hagrid outside his hut, sitting in an armchair and shelling peas.
“Hullo,” he greeted them. “Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?”
“Yes, please,” Ron said, breathing hard, but Harry talked right over him.
“No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?”
“Dunno,” said Hagrid, “he wouldn't take his cloak off.”
Spot on, thought Hermione. Realization dawned on Ron's face.
“It's not that unusual,” Hagrid said quickly, “yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head – that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up.”
They all sat down in the grass.
“What did you talk to him about, Hagrid?” Harry inquired. “Did you mention Hogwarts at all?”
“Mighta come up,” Hagrid said slowly, recalling the night's events. “Yeah ... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here ... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after ... so I told him ... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon ... an' then .. I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks .. Let's see ... yeah, then he said he had a the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted ... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home .. So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy ...”
A cold lump formed in Hermione's stomach. Harry was struggling hard to keep his voice calm as he asked, “And did he – did he seem interested in Fluffy?”
“Well – yeah – how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -”
He cut off, horror creeping over his face.
“I shouldn'ta told yeh that!” he said. “Forget I said it! Hey – where're yeh goin'?”
They had jumped up and were already running towards the castle, none of them saying a word. They stopped in the Entrance Hall. After the bright sunshine outside it seemed very dark inside.
“We've got to go to Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak – it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?”
Hermione suddenly realized she couldn't remember. She knew that there was a Gargoyle in front of the entrance, but that was no help. There were dozens of Gargoyles all over the castle, one of them even in sight from where they stood. They looked around, but there was no indication of the location of the headmaster's office anywhere. Hermione kept silent, she didn't want to explain why she had been there. It would have been useless anyway.
“We'll just have to -” Harry began but was cut off.
“What are you three doing inside?” Professor McGonagall asked. She was carrying a large pile of books.
“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said, earning her impressed looks from the boys for her daring.
“See Professor Dumbledore?” echoed Professor McGonagall suspiciously. “Why?”
Hermione searched for a good excuse, but Harry was faster.
“It's sort of secret,” he blurted out. Hermione winced. Sure enough, the explanation didn't satisfy Professor McGonagall at all. She straightened and looked down at them.
“Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago,” she told them coolly. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off to London at once.”
“He's gone?” Harry asked, panic rising up. “Now?”
“Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time -”
“But this is important.”
“Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?”
“Look, Professor – it's about the Philosopher's Stone -”
Professor McGonagall dropped the books she was carrying. Hermione had never seen her so unnerved.
“How do you know -?”
“Professor, I think – I know – that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore.”
Professor McGonagall seemed to try to look into Harry.
“Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,” she finally told them. “I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected.”
“But Professor -”
“Potter, I know what I'm talking about,” she cut him off. She gathered up the dropped books. “I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.”
There was no chance of that, of course. Harry only waited for her to get out of earshot before speaking.
“It's tonight. Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up.”
“But what can we -” Ron started, when Snape suddenly appeared behind the boys. Hermione gasped and the boys wheeled around.
“Good afternoon,” Snape said and, as they only stared at him, continued, “You shouldn't be inside on a day like this.” He did what passed as smiling for him.
“We were -” Harry started, but Snape didn't even let him start his fabricated tale.
“You want to be more careful. Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can they?”
Harry's face went red, as did Ron's ears. Hermione's own face felt rather hot, too. They turned around without a word and walked towards the front doors.
“Be warned, Potter,” Snape called after them. “Any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you.”
He left in the direction of the staff room. They walked on until they were on the stone steps that led up to the castle doors.
“Right, here's what we've got to do,” Harry told them in an urgent whisper. “One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape – wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that.”
“Why me?” The thought of following Snape around was very unsettling.
“It's obvious,” said Ron with annoying superiority. “You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know.” He put on a high voice in a very poor imitation of her. “Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong...”
“Oh, shut up,” she snapped. “All right, I'll do it.”
“And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor,” Harry told Ron. “Come on.”
They ran off. Hermione watched them for a moment and then walked to the staff room and waited outside. Two gargoyles sat at the sides of the door, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Now what would you want?” one asked.
Hermione pretended that she didn't hear him.
After a while, Snape came out.
“Miss Granger,” he said, “are you still not tired of this hot, dark castle? What would a young student such as you do waiting outside the staff room?”
“I – I'm looking for Professor Flitwick.”
“Why didn't you knock?” Snape sneered and went back into the staff room. A moment later he appeared again and walked away down the corridor.
“Miss Granger?”
Hermione jumped. She had completely overlooked tiny Professor Flitwick, who had followed Snape out of the staff room.
“Ah – yes, Professor,” she stammered, glancing after Snape, who just turned a corner, and trying to come up with a cover story at the same time. “Uh ... it's about the exam ... I'm not sure if I did the basic colouring charms right, I think I wrote something wrong for the modifications of the wrist movement to get mixed colours, and I wondered -”
Professor Flitwick cut her off with a huge smile.
“Don't worry Miss Granger, you certainly did the question justice.”
He set off slowly down the corridor in the opposite direction that Snape had gone, beckoning her to follow.
“In fact, you did every question justice. I looked at your exam first of all, and I'm very impressed. Though it did take me quite a while to correct it, you wrote so much. Now,” he said, looking up and down the corridor and reducing his voice to a conspirational whisper, “don't tell anyone I said this, because I'm not supposed to, but I already graded the exam. You reached one hundred and twelve per cent, that's the highest score in twenty years, and only the sixth time in my life that somebody got that much, including myself.”
“Really?” Hermione asked weakly.
“Really,” said Professor Flitwick, then continued in his normal squeak. “You will yet make us very proud, Miss Granger.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
Professor Flitwick turned and went back to the staff room. Hermione remained where she was, a happy smile on her face. One hundred and twelve per cent. Never had she expected that. Then she remembered why she was here in the first place. Frantically she ran down the corridor to where Snape had disappeared, but he was nowhere in sight. There was nothing to do but to return to the Common Room and wait for Harry and Ron.
They were already there.
“I'm sorry, Harry!” she apologized. “Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away. I don't know where Snape went.”
“Well, that's it then, isn't it?” Harry said.
Hermione stared at him without any idea what he was talking about. He was ghostly pale, yet his eyes were burning with a cold fire of determination.
“I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first.”
“You're mad!” said Ron immediately.
“You can't!” said Hermione. “After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!”
“SO WHAT?” Harry shouted at her. She took a step back in shock. “Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter any more, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor win the House Cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there. It's only dying a bit later than I would have done, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?”
Hermione struggled for words. Harry was radiating power and he had fixed them with his bright green eyes, which were boring into them like drills.
“You're right, Harry,” she finally managed to say. Harry visibly deflated and the aura vanished.
“I'll use the Invisibility Cloak,” he said. “It's just lucky I got it back.”
The night after their detention, it had lain in his bed, together with a note that said, “Just in case.”
“But will it cover all three of us?” Ron asked, voicing Hermione's thoughts.
“All – all three of us?” Harry asked, clearly confused.
“Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?”
“Of course not,” Hermione added. “How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful ...”
“But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too.”
If we get caught, You-Know-Who will kill us, too, Hermione thought, I'm Muggle-born after all. But she said, “Not if I can help it. Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve per cent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that.”
Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration. Hermione's notes on the three subjects were about two feet high, all together. She spent the afternoon and the evening skimming through the stack, hoping that something might be useful, while Harry and Ron sat together in silence. Nobody spoke to them, as usual. They only left the room for dinner, then went back to the Common Room and waited for the room to empty. Lee Jordan was the last to leave.
“Better get the Cloak,” Ron muttered. Harry ran up to his dormitory. Hermione packed her notes up and stacked them in a corner. Harry came back just as she finished.
“We'd better put the Cloak on here,” he said, “and make sure it covers all three of us – if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own -”
“What are you doing?”came a voice from behind a chair. Neville raised his head, his hand clutching his toad, which he apparently had just caught.
“Nothing, Neville, nothing,” said Harry quickly, hiding the Cloak behind his back. Neville didn't buy it.
“You're going out again,” he said.
“No, no, no,” Hermione said. “No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville.” It was no more convincing than what Harry had said.
“You can't go out, you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble.”
“You don't understand,” said Harry desperately, “this is important.”
“I won't let you do it.” Neville hurried over to the portrait hole and blocked it. “I'll – I'll fight you!”
“Neville,” Ron hissed, “get away from that hole and don't be an idiot -”
“Don't you call me an idiot!” said Neville fiercely. “I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!”
“Yes, but not to us,” said Ron exasperatedly. Hermione had to grin despite herself. She quickly suppressed it. “Neville, you don't know what you're doing,” Ron continued, taking a step towards Neville. Neville raised his fists, dropping Trevor. The toad quickly hopped away.
“Go on then, try and hit me!” said Neville. “I'm ready!”
“Do something,” Harry whispered to Hermione. She swallowed and pulled out her wand. Stepping in front of Ron, she said, “Neville I'm really, really sorry about this.
“Petrificus Totalus!” She pointed her wand straight at Neville as she cried the incantation. A jet of light hit him directly in the breast. The effect was instantaneous. Neville's body went completely rigid, like a log. His arms and legs snapped together, his jaws clamped shut and his neck stiffened. Unable to hold balance, he fell on his face before any of them could catch him. She ran to him and turned him over, her eyes wet. He could only move his eyes. He stared at her in blank horror, which made her feel even worse.
“What have you done to him?” Harry whispered.
“It's the full Body-Bind. Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry.”
“We had to, Neville, no time to explain,” said Harry.
“You'll understand later, Neville,” Ron added.
They pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and stepped over him out of the Common Room. They had just overcome the first obstacle, and they felt terrible.
They moved very slowly, shrinking back from every shadow or noise. They were constantly afraid that their legs would show just when Filch happened to wander by. At the first staircase they met Mrs Norris, but while she looked straight at them, she didn't do anything else. Hermione couldn't hear what Ron whispered to Harry either, but Harry shook his head anyway.
The remaining trip was uneventful, until they came to the staircase that lead to the third floor. Peeves was floating over the staircase, setting up the carpet so that people would trip over it. The poltergeist seemed to have some sixth sense because he noticed them as they silently tried climbed past him.
“Who's there?” he asked. “Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?”
He floated directly in front of them, squinting at them with his mischievous black eyes.
“Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen.”
“Peeves,” Harry suddenly said in a hoarse whisper, “the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible.”
Hermione hadn't known that ghosts could crash, but Peeves came very close to it. He caught himself mere inches from the ground and rose up about a foot high.
“So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr Baron, sir,” he said hastily. “My mistake, my mistake – I didn't see you – of course I didn't, you're invisible – forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir.”
“I have business here, Peeves. Stay away from this place tonight.”
“I will, sir, I most certainly will. Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you.”
He flew off hurriedly.
“Brilliant, Harry,” whispered Ron.
They hurried up the stairs and reached the door to the forbidden corridor. It stood open a bit.
“Well, there you are,” said Harry. “Snape's already got past Fluffy.”
They stood there uncertainly. Facing the obstacles to the Stone was bad enough, but now they would probably have to fight Snape too. Hermione knew that even the three of them together weren't really a match for a fully trained wizard.
“If you want to go back, I won't blame you,” Harry said. “You can take the Cloak, I won't need it now.”
“Don't be stupid,” said Ron.
“We're coming,” added Hermione.
Harry pushed the door completely open. It made little noise, but apparently enough to alert Fluffy. The dog couldn't see them, but it could smell them. It raised its three heads and sniffed frantically, trying to find them. Something was lying at its feet.
“What's that at its feet?” Hermione asked.
“Looks like a harp,” said Ron, squinting into the darkness. “Snape must have left it there.”
“It must wake up the moment you stop playing,” said Harry. “Well, here goes...”
He pulled out the wooden flute he got from Hagrid for Christmas and started playing. It sounded terrible, but the effect on the dog was all the same. It calmed visibly, then knelt down and keeled over, fast asleep.
“Keep playing,” Ron warned as he pulled the Cloak off all of them. They crept slowly towards the trapdoor, which luckily was free. Hermione didn't want to think what it would have meant if the dog had fallen asleep on top of it. They approached the dog carefully, stopping in front of its forelegs, which were blocking the way. One of the dog's heads was breathing at them. Hermione shivered despite the heat.
“I think we'll be able to pull the door open,” said Ron. “Want to go first, Hermione?”
“No, I don't.”
“All right.” Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. Then he pulled the trapdoor open and looked inside.
“What can you see?” Hermione asked.
“Nothing – just black – there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop.” His words echoed ominously in the hole.
Harry waved at Ron and pointed at himself.
“You want to go first?” Ron asked. “Are you sure? I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep.”
Harry stopped playing. Immediately the dog began to twitch. Harry handed Hermione the flute. The dog growled. She took the flute and set it to her mouth. She had never played any flute before, but whatever she did, it couldn't be worse than what Harry had done. She started playing and corrected herself. It could be worse. It made no difference to the dog, which had gone still again.
Harry climbed over it and crouched down next to the hole. He looked down, then turned around and slipped his feet inside. He lowered himself until Hermione could only see his fingertips clutching the floor.
“If anything happens to me, don't follow,” he said. “Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?”
“Right,” said Ron.
“See you in a minute, I hope ...”
He let go and his fingertips disappeared. Hermione climbed over the dog, still playing.
“It's OK!” came Harry's voice after a few seconds. “It's a soft landing, you can jump!”
Ron jumped.
“Come on, Hermione!” came Harry's voice after a few more seconds.
She jumped into the hole, followed by the barks of the dog as she stopped playing. Air rushed around her. The fall seemed to last forever, yet it was over as suddenly as it had started. She landed in something soft. She tried to gauge the distance she had fallen.
“We must be miles under the school,” she said, looking up at the tiny spot of light that was the trapdoor.
“Lucky this plant thing's here, really,” said Ron. She looked at him and went cold. The plant thing had wrapped itself tightly around his ankles, and Harry's as well.
“Lucky!” she cried. “Look at you both!”
She leapt up and started towards a wall. She almost fell because the thing had her own feet in slings, too, but she managed to struggle free and eventually reach the wall. The plant couldn't reach her there. She turned around and looked in horror at the scene. The plant had pinned both boys' arms to the ground and was wrapping itself around Harry's chest. They struggled, but the more they moved the faster the plant acted. Something clicked in Hermione's mind.
“Stop moving!” she called. “I know what this is – it's Devil's Snare!”
“Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help,” snarled Ron. He was trying to fight off a tendril that was creeping around his neck.
“Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!” But Hermione's mind had gone terribly blank.
“Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!” Harry gasped.
“Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare ...” Hermione put her hands to her head and squeezed her eyes shut. It was as if a thick fog hid all the gems of knowledge in her mind. “What did Professor Sprout say?” A hole appeared in the fog and something glittered. “It likes the dark and the damp -”
“So light a fire!” Harry choked.
“Yes – of course –” Fire. How to light a fire? Another part of the fog cleared. She looked around.
“But there's no wood!” she cried helplessly.
“HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron shouted. “ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?”
His outburst drove the fog away completely. Magical fires burned brightly in her mind. She pulled out her wand, waved it and said, “Flamma Albastra Major!” Streams of blue flames shot out of her wand. She spread them over the plant. The tendrils wriggled and flailed and slowly retreated into one corner of the room. If the plant had a voice, Hermione was sure it would have screamed. The boys were able to pull the few remaining arms away and stumbled over to her.
“Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione,” panted Harry, wiping his face.
“Yeah,” said Ron acidly, “and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis – 'there's no wood', honestly.”
Hermione was spared an answer by Harry saying, “this way,” and walking down a stone passageway.
Their footsteps echoed in the tunnel, and occasionally they could hear water dripping from the walls. They walked steadily downwards, led by Hermione's wand light.
“Can you hear something?” Ron whispered.
They stopped to listen. They could indeed hear something ahead, the faint rustling and occasional metallic clinking.
“Do you think it's a ghost?” Hermione asked. Professor Quirrell might have placed evil ghosts here.
“I don't know,” said Harry. “Sounds like wings to me.”
“There's light ahead – I can see something moving,” said Ron.
Hermione extinguished her wand as they drew closer to the source of the light. It was a brightly lit room and they took a few moments to adjust to the light. They looked inside. High up in the air they could see a ceiling, and the air below was filled with colourful, glittering birds. They fluttered around, a thick, waving cloud of wings and sleek bodies. There was not a single twitter, though. On the other side of the room was the exit, a heavy, wooden, closed door.
“Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?” asked Ron.
“Probably,” said Harry. “They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once ... Well, there's nothing for it ... I'll run.”
He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms and sprinted away. It looked almost comical, Harry running like mad, crouched down, with the birds fluttering peacefully above him. He reached the other side and looked around. He tried the door, but it was looked. Ron and Hermione walked across the room to him. Harry and Ron rattled the door together to no avail. Hermione took he wand and tapped the lock.
“ALOHOMORA!” she cried, putting as much strength in the spell as she could. A normal door would probably have fallen off its hinges, but this door didn't open.
“Now what?” said Ron.
“These birds,” Hermione said, looking up at them. “They can't be here just for decoration.”
“They're not birds!” Harry said suddenly. “They're keys! Winged keys – look carefully.”
Hermione squinted at the cloud. Indeed, the sleek bodies were made of metal, and what she thought were beaks were the front ends.
“So that must mean ... Yes – look!” Harry was saying. They looked where he pointed. “Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!”
“But there are hundreds of them!” Hermione objected.
Ron examined the lock.
“We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one – probably silver, like the handle.”
Everyone took a broomstick and kicked off. Hermione made a few grabs, but caught nothing. She could fly well enough after a year of lessons, but she had never become really comfortable on a broom and lacked the agility needed to catch anything. Whenever she saw a key like Ron had described, it fluttered away before she could follow it.
“That one!” called Harry, pointing somewhere into the cloud. “That big one – there – no, there – with bright blue wings – the feathers are all crumpled on one side.”
Ron sped of into the direction Harry was pointing. The key fluttered aside, but Ron was too fast to stop; he crashed into the ceiling and barely managed to cling to his broom.
“We've got to close in on it!” Harry called again. “Ron, you come at it from above – Hermione, stay below and stop it going down – and I'll try to catch it. Right, NOW!”
Hermione flew upwards, closing in on the key. Ron came down towards her. The key evaded them both and flew straight into Harry's path. It tried to flee, but Harry caught up and pinned it against the wall. Ron and Hermione cheered.
They landed and Harry unlocked the door with the key.
“Ready?” he asked. They nodded. Harry pulled the door open.
A short tunnel led them to another chamber. They couldn't see anything now that the light from the previous chamber had faded. Hermione considered lighting her wand again, but at that moment Harry stepped into the room and triggered a spell; light flooded the room and revealed the strangest thing Hermione had ever seen, even at Hogwarts.
In front of them lay a huge chessboard. The black pieces, towering over them, were carved from black volcanic rock. Opposite them, on the other side of the large room, stood the white pieces, carved from white marble. Behind them was the next door. Unlike the black pieces, which looked very real, the white pieces lacked faces, which made them a frightening sight. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered.
“Now what do we do?” Harry asked quietly.
“It's obvious, isn't it?” said Ron. “We've got to play our way across the room.”
There had to be a catch.
“How?” Hermione asked.
“I think we're going to have to be chessmen.”
There was a catch.
Ron walked up to a black knight and touched his horse. The figure sprang to life at the touch. The horse pranced a bit on the spot. The knight looked down at Ron questioningly.
“Do we – er – have to join you to get across?”
The knight nodded. Ron took his hand away from the horse and turned around. The piece froze again.
“This wants thinking about ...” Ron said slowly. “I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces ... Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess -”
“We're not offended,” said Harry quickly and Hermione nodded. “Just tell us what to do.”
“Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go next to him instead of that castle.”
“What about you?”
“I'm going to be a knight.”
The three mentioned pieces left the board at these words. Harry, Ron and Hermione took their places.
“White always plays first in chess,” Ron mumbled. “Yes ... look ...”
The white king's pawn awoke and walked forward two fields.
“Pawn to D five!” Ron called. Their own pawn walked forwards to meet the white one.
Ron kept calling orders to the black pieces, and the white pieces responded in total silence. Their blank faces were unnerving. Hermione sat down on her field, hiding her head between her legs.
“Hermione, stand up. Rochade!” Ron called. Hermione looked up. The king was walking towards her. She walked past him and took her new place. Harry was standing in the middle of the board, trembling. Ron was sweating, but he had a determined look on his face. The white queen walked out from her starting position. Ron walked past a pawn to threaten her. The queen walked up to the other knight and smashed him from his horse down on the floor. Hermione shrieked. The horse bolted and ran away while the queen dragged the knight off the board and took his place.
“Had to let that happen,” said Ron, his face pale. “Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on.”
She walked towards the huge figure. It was standing quite still. She pushed against it. It didn't move. She pushed with all her might. It still didn't move.
“Go away!” she cried. “You're taken. It didn't react. She pulled out her wand.
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
The bishop rose into the air. Hermione gave it a hard shove and it floated off the board, where she let it drop.
“Nice one,” Ron called.
The game went on. The white pieces were brutal when it came to taking black pieces, and they took many. Ron held against them, taking many pieces himself.
“Harry, three fields ahead and to the left – no, WAIT! Their knight can take you there.”
They played. Ron managed to avoid any of them being taken, often just barely.
And then he stopped to think for longer than at any point before.
“We're nearly there,” he muttered. “Let me think – let me think...”
The white queen turned to face him.
“Yes ... it's the only way ... I've got to be taken.”
The words hit Hermione like an icy shower.
“NO!” she and Harry shouted.
“That's chess! You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me – that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!”
“But -”
“Do you want to stop Snape or not?”
“Ron -”
“Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!”
There was no use in arguing.
“Ready? Here I go – now, don't hang around once you've won.”
He walked forward and to the right, his face set in cold determination. He stopped, staring defiantly at the queen. She walked towards him, closer and closer. Then she struck. Her stone arm hit Ron in the head and he collapsed. Hermione screamed, but didn't walk towards him – it would count as a move. The queen dragged him off the board.
Knees wobbling, Harry moved forward. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet in defeat. The pieces parted and cleared the way to the door, bowing them through. On both sides of the board the taken pieces stirred and stood up – all except Ron. He still lay there motionlessly.
Hermione tore her eyes off him and followed Harry through the door, lighting her wand again.
“What if he's -?” she began, unable to finish.
“He'll be all right,” said Harry. “What do you reckon's next?”
Hermione thought about that as they moved along the corridor, upwards this time.
“We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare – Flitwick must've put charms on the keys – McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive –“ – strong life spells were classified as Transfiguration because they changed the essence of the things being bewitched – “that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's ...”
They had reached the end of the passage.
“All right?” Harry whispered.
“Go on.” Hermione held her wand ahead as Harry pushed the door open.
The smell that emanated from the room was horrible and Harry and Hermione held their robes over their noses. Hermione's eyes watered and she felt sick. She wondered if Snape had poisoned the air in the room. But then she remembered the smell: a troll. They ventured cautiously in the room. Hermione's wand light fell on a huge troll lying on the floor, even larger than the one that had attacked Hermione. The troll was unconscious, a bloody lump on its head. Hermione looked at it, fondly recalling what the end result of her last encounter with a troll had been.
“I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one,” Harry said as they stepped over the troll. “Come on, I can't breathe.”
They walked through another short corridor. Then they reached the last door. They swallowed. Who knew what twisted trap Snape was capable of? Harry pulled the door open and they peered inside.
It was just a table with a row of seven different bottles, nothing else. An open archway was on the other side of the room, no visible obstacle barring their way.
“Snape's,” said Harry unnecessarily. “What do we have to do?”
They stepped inside. Suddenly a purple fire flared up behind them. Hermione yelped and jumped forward. The other exit was blocked too, by black flames. Hermione looked around and saw a scroll of paper next to the bottles. She unrolled it.
“Look!” she called. Harry leaned over her shoulder to read along.
Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead, Two among our number hold only nettle wine, Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line. Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore, To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the right Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.
Hermione sighed in relief. She had expected to have to mix up the contents of the bottles in terribly complicated recipes, but a logical puzzle was another matter. She smiled.
“Brilliant,” she said. “This isn't magic – it's logic – a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here for ever.”
“But so will we, won't we?” Harry said sadly.
“Of course not. Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple.”
“But how do we know which to drink?”
“Give me a minute.”
She re-read the paper a few times, just to be sure. There wasn't any margin for errors. Drinking poison would kill them as surely as walking through a fire without having drunk the right potion.
She walked up and down the line of bottles, tapping them as she thought. The twin bottles could only be poison or nettle wine. One of them was huge, though, so it couldn't be poison. It had to nettle wine. That made the two bottles next to them poison. Three bottles left. The fire was roaring, disturbing her concentration. She couldn't make mistakes, not now. The tiniest bottle was third in the line. It had to hold either the black or the purple potion. If it was the purple one then the bottle next to it would be the black, or the one at the end. Was there any way to decide? She read the poem once more. No, the one at the end couldn't be the one that let them move onwards. The flames reflected in the bottles, dazzling her. The last one had to be the poison. It had to be different than that on the other hand though, what was that? Nettle wine or poison? No, the second was nettle wine, the first poison. The last couldn't be poison, but it couldn't be the black either, it had to be the purple. That meant that the tiniest had to be the black and the one next to it poison. Three poisons, two nettle wine, one forward, one backward. She had it. She clapped her hands in triumph.
“Got it,” she said. “The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire – towards the Stone.”
Harry bent down and examined it.
“There's only enough there for one of us,” he said. “That's hardly one swallow.”
They looked at each other.
“Which one will get you back through the purple flames?”
Hermione pointed at the last bottle.
“You drink that. No, listen,” he said when she opened her mouth, “get back and get Ron – grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy – go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him really.”
“But Harry – what if You-Know-Who's with him?”
“Well – I was lucky once, wasn't I?” Harry said, pointing at his scar. “I might get lucky again.”
She looked at him. It felt like taking a last good look, getting a last impression of what he looked like. He was pale. He looked tired – Ron had said that he hadn't slept properly since the night in the Forest. Dark rings were around his eyes, which were reflecting the purple flames behind her. And yet there still was this determination in them, as if he would walk straight through a wall if it stood in his way. Maybe there was a chance. A tiny chance.
Hermione ran forward and pulled Harry into a hug.
“Hermione!”
“Harry – you're a great wizard, you know,” she sobbed. Then she let go of him and pulled back.
“I'm not as good as you,” he said, his face very red.
“Me!” she said with a tiny snort. The great witch that couldn't make a fire without wood.
“Books!” she said. “And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery and – oh Harry – be careful!”
“You drink first,” Harry said, even redder now. “You are sure which is which, aren't you?”
That was Harry, concerned with his friends even as he walked to face death.
“Positive.” She took the rounded bottle at the end and took a great swallow. It felt like ice flowing into her stomach, spreading its cold through her body. She shuddered.
“It's not poison?” said Harry anxiously.
“No – but it's like ice.” The cold had left her stomach but was now all over her skin, as if she was coated in snow.
“Quick, go, before it wears off.”
“Good luck – take care -”
“GO!”
She turned around and walked through the fire. It felt pleasantly warm, but she felt sick inside. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen Harry for the last time in her life. She stopped after the fire and turned around, hoping to see through the flames, but they were completely opaque. Then she heard Harry's voice over the roar.
“Here I come.”
A few moments later the flames died and the door closed in Hermione's face.