The Lord of the Stone

THE LORD OF THE STONE
-BOOK ONE-
-THE SEARCH FOR HARRY POTTER-

Chapter One: A Rumour

1992

The sky over Hogwarts Castle blackened suddenly. From atop Gryffindor Tower, Hermione Granger shivered. She felt an icy coldness and fear envelop her, and yet she could not say why.

“Master?” The call echoed around the empty room underneath the castle. The young man inside was panicking. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he called again.

A dull thumping sound came to his ears.

A prickling sense of fear began to well up in him. “M-M-Master?” he called, throat dry. “You – you ha- have the stone?”

The cold laughter began. It echoed around the room slowly and made the young man’s blood run cold.

Everyone in the wizarding world heard that laugh.

With the force of a cannon the roof fell in. The young man shrieked and dived for cover. From amongst the shadow a figure emerged, darker than the blackest night.
“I have it,” hissed a voice. “And soon the wizarding world shall know.”

The shadow stopped over the prone body of the young man. It smiled a terrible smile and left the room slowly. Lord Voldemort was born again…


***

Six years later

The Swiss Alps

A young wizard stood on the edge of a large rock, scouring the mountainside before him carefully. Behind him stood nearly twenty others, and a number of curious black-hooded creatures.
All were silent. Their prey was close by - they could sense it. The young man at the front drew back his hood and glanced up at the waning sun. Sun, he thought with a smirk, what need for light when the world is in darkness? He pulled a thin strip of wood from his pocket and stood perfectly still. His silver-blond hair seemed to shine in the light, but his cold grey eyes emanated no warmth.

A sudden movement caught his eye. Could it be her? Either that or it was some stray animal of the – he suddenly stopped and caught the flash of a tail. A stray dog, as he had predicted. He watched it lazily for a few minutes, disappointed that their searching was still not over. And yet he felt that the end was near. He could sense her presence in the air. Once she was removed, their biggest threat was out of the way. All except for…

‘Sir!’ cried one of the men behind him. ‘Down there!’ The leader turned swiftly and his cold eyes pierced the grey mist. Down below he could clear see a human like figure, weaving almost imperceptibly between rocks.

‘After her!’ he cried, pulling out a small golden chain from inside his pocket. Wings.
He slipped the chain over his neck and at once his feet lifted from the ground. He motioned for everyone to follow him and flew off down the hill, not five feet from the ground.

The first time he’d used wings he had injured himself seriously. It was no easy feat learning to use them, but once you could they were much faster and more efficient than broomsticks. He sped along in midair, just a grey blur in the mist. But the figure ahead of him was getting closer. She had no wings, and soon she would feel the consequences. Behind him the black shadows came just as quickly. They did not need wings to keep up with his pace, merely the sense that their prey was near.

Further down the mountain path, the girl looked up behind her. She felt an invisible hand of fear clamp down as she saw the all too recognisable silver-blond hair up above. Those cold grey eyes had only hatred for her. A passion. A longing for revenge…

But she was so close! She could not let them have her now. For weeks – maybe even months, she had not kept count – they had tracked her relentlessly. Each time they found her she evaded them. But here she was, at the final hurdle, and hope was running thin.

With wings, she would have been safe long ago. But he had taken her wings. It only added to the fear and misery she’d felt since the fateful day six years earlier when a black shadow had descended upon wizardkind.

All of a sudden she heard the cry. It was not loud, but in the still, silent mountains she heard it clearly.

‘Sir!’ it came. ‘Down there!’

She turned back and even through the mist and the distance she saw those grey, lifeless eyes boring into hers.

Oh no…

She doubled her speed. A stitch was rising in her stomach but she ignored it. If she could just get across the stream…

She saw it below her, snaking slowly down the valley. She was so close. But she could hear the whizzing in her ear. He was getting closer. He had wings. She had no chance when he was moving at that speed. She put her arm into her thin cloak and pulled out her slender magic wand.

‘Don’t let me down now, old friend,’ she whispered.

It was too late. She felt the cold hand grip her upper arms. She knew those hands well, what they felt like…

She stumbled and turned. There he was, hair rippling in the wind. They came behind him.

And all of a sudden a blackness and despair came upon her unlike any she had ever felt. Through the veil she could see her parents, sobbing against the wall.

‘Help us!’ they shouted, and their screams followed. She froze in horror. She had to help them! She had to! But they were gone in a flash … a flash of green light … He had done that.

The thought was enough to give her a flicker of life. One of the hooded creatures was coming closer, drawing in a rattling breath. Desperately trying to ignore the screams, she thought back to one of the first lessons she had been taught.

“They drive out hope and happiness.” The voice almost seemed from a different world. “You have to concentrate on a happy memory and say an incantation.” A happy memory. She felt the despair drive up in her again. Does such a thing exist? She tried to think back to her old life, before the Changeover … yes … there was one memory…

She felt the cold breath on her skin and knew it was now or never.

‘Expecto Patronum!’ she cried hoarsely. A huge silver shape issued from her wand. Opening her eyes she saw the young man’s furious expression as the black hooded creatures subsided. The shape bounded back towards the girl, and she smiled when she saw its assumed form. She did not smile often. The great silver dog bowed its head and disappeared with a flash. She was alone again.

She froze as he came forward, eyes glinting with malice. He twirled his wand between his fingers. She looked around desperately for some means of escape, but saw nothing that might help her. At least twenty of his followers surrounded the two of them.

‘Hermione Granger,’ he said quietly, his voice cold and calm. ‘What a long time it’s been.’ He surveyed her with interest but felt a sickening cold in his stomach. He would never forget how he had been betrayed.

‘Draco,’ she said with equal venom. Her voice was dry and quiet. She had not eaten for days. She watched his disgusted expression as he looked at her, filled with anger and regret. It had been less than a year…

He drew himself up and pointed his wand at her.

‘I should have done this a long time ago, Hermione,’ he said bitterly.

‘You wouldn’t,’ Hermione replied, though deep down she knew he would. How many other people had found that out the hard way? ‘You couldn’t do it to yourself.’

He narrowed his eyes.

‘Try me.’ He gripped his wand. ‘Avada Ke- ’

He was halfway through his deadly incantation when a great black dog flew out from the trees behind him. But this one was no Patronus. It knocked Draco to the ground and his wand fell from his grasp.

Hermione, who had closed her eyes when Draco had started speaking, didn’t dare to breathe. Was she dead? She opened her eyes carefully and almost shouted with joy. The black dog was there. Its eyes looked at her imploringly and she knew immediately what it meant. Follow me. Throwing caution to the winds she picked up her wand and shouted a curse at the top of her voice. White light issued from her wand and every figure surrounding her fell to the floor Stunned. All except one.

‘Let’s go,’ she hissed to the dog. It bounded away from her and she leapt after it when cold fingers grasped her ankle. She tripped but jumped immediately to her feet. Draco looked up at her.

‘You can’t hide forever, Hermione,’ he whispered. ‘Not from me.’

She carefully positioned herself as she put her wand back into her pocket.

‘See you in Hell, Draco.’ Whipping around her foot caught Draco square in the face. He fell back with a sharp gasp.

She turned to follow her companion but knew the fight was not yet over. It would take nothing less than an Unforgivable curse to stop Draco Malfoy in his tracks. And the Dementors would soon return… cold as shadow.

She saw the black figure up ahead, racing towards the stream. Once across the water the spell upon her would be broken and she would be able to escape. But she was not there yet.

The whizzing was in her ears again as she sped into a large clearing. The bridge was up ahead, but she could no longer see the dog. It had nearly led her to safety. But Draco was close behind; she could feel it. In his presence her skin became colder, and she was filled with old memories … regrets of the past.

She was at the bridge itself when he hurdled round the corner after her. He was like a bloodhound. He would not eat nor sleep whilst he knew she was still alive. He would not rest until she lay lifeless at his feet. She had hurt him too much.

She turned backwards and saw the silver-blond hair coming towards her. His eyes were no longer lifeless but ignited with an undying flame.

Time seemed to slow down as she slowly but surely inched onto the bridge. She moved backwards step by step … but would she be too late? She saw him pull out his wand as he took off wings. She did not hear but saw his mouth utter the first of the foulest words ever created… he raised his wand … but he was too late.

She felt soft ground below her feet. She was across the bridge! She did not break eye contact with him but merely smirked.

And she was gone.

*

Not far from the bridge, the black dog heard the young man’s cry of fury. The dog knew what this meant. He began to run and soon he was flying through the mountain forest. Up above somewhere, he knew, there flew a beautiful bird, one of the most amazing creatures of the air. They were not far from safety.

On the other side of the forest there stood a small cabin made of wood. This cabin was probably one of the safest refuges in the dark wizarding world. It had been designed so flawlessly that anything or anyone with even the slightest hint of evil intent would be able to walk through it without seeing or feeling it. This was where one of the most sought after fugitives resided with her friend and teacher.

The moon was high in the sky when two creatures began to approach the cabin. One raced along on foot, the other soared silently in the sky, unseen and unheard. The bird began to descend slowly, whilst the great dog bounded to the front of the cabin.

Any person of malice nearby would simply have seen a great dog and a magnificent phoenix pass into a small glade and then disappear entirely.

Inside the hidden cabin a warm fire was crackling away in the corner. A delicious aroma emanated from the very small kitchen, and pictures of all sorts hung around the walls. The two creatures entered slowly and in the blink of an eye disappeared. Hermione was there, shivering slightly. With her was one of the most curious wizards ever to grace the earth. His nickname was Padfoot, a reference to the creature he was able to turn into. This man’s name was Sirius Black.

Hermione turned when she saw Sirius and drew him into a long hug. Sirius smiled as he held her, shivering and scared in front of the fire.

*

‘Thank you for coming to me, Sirius,’ Hermione said later as the two sat comfortably in front of the fireplace. Sirius’s eyes glittered. His hair was tangled and messy – the result of nearly a lifetime spent running from the law. He had spent eleven years in the terrible wizarding prison, Azkaban, for the murder of his best friends Lily and James Potter. Hermione knew by now, though, that Sirius had been wrongly convicted. She did not know the circumstances of the event, however. When Azkaban had been liberated six years ago, Sirius had managed to escape into the wilderness and had brought Hermione with him. Hermione still had no idea why Sirius should have saved her, but in return for his kindness she had helped him in the bitter struggle against Lord Voldemort. He had taught her many things that had saved her life on more than one occasion. Most notably he had passed on his single greatest talent – being an Animagus. Little did she know it, but she and Sirius were two of only three living Animagi in the wizarding world.

There had been another, they knew, up until that tragic day six years ago. Minerva McGonagall, who’d had the ability to change into a cat, had been a respected member of staff at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The school had been safe under the control of Albus Dumbledore… but through an evil man named Quirrell, Lord Voldemort had gained the thing he needed above all else to be revived – a Philosopher’s Stone, hidden deep underneath the castle. With it Voldemort had become immortal … until it was destroyed he would rule the wizarding world. And for the handful that resisted him there was death or worse. Dumbledore had died cursing the Dark Lord, and Hermione would never forget the look of fear on Voldemort’s face or the look of determination on Dumbledore’s when he passed from the world.

Hermione wished that Hogwarts still stood in ruins, as it had six years ago … but it was far worse. It had been rebuilt, and was now a centre of Dark Arts activity. Run for a while by Draco Malfoy’s father Lucius, it accepted only purebloods whose loyalty to the Dark Lord was assured…

Purebloods. After the destruction of Hogwarts all the Muggle-borns, wizards of Muggle parentage, had been hunted down and persecuted. Very few still remained alive, and Hermione was one of them.

For her parents were Muggles – or had been, until Draco Malfoy had murdered them. But she’d had her revenge. Draco had been wounded severely by her and consequently would not rest until she was dead.

‘How are you feeling?’ Sirius asked, interrupting her thoughts.

‘Safe,’ Hermione answered truthfully. This cabin was the only place on earth she ever felt truly safe.

‘I have something vital to tell you,’ Sirius said, clearing his throat. ‘There is news of … him. They say he is in India, and dark forces are closing around.’

Hermione put her hand to her mouth.

For what she’d thought was true – Voldemort had been revived by the Philosopher’s Stone … for something had happened to him sixteen years ago in a small town called Godric’s Hollow.

Sirius’ best friends James and Lily Potter – for whose murders he’d been convicted – had had a son before they died. Though he had never been seen in the wizarding world his name was almost as famous as Voldemort’s. Harry Potter.

Sixteen years ago Voldemort had gone to Godric’s Hollow on the information of one Peter Pettigrew, Sirius’s bitter enemy. He had killed James and Lily and tried to curse Harry. And yet when the spell was cast, it rebounded upon Voldemort instead of killing Harry. Voldemort’s power had been broken – for a time. Harry, meanwhile, had gone to live with his aunt and uncle in the Muggle world.

But when he was three Harry’s Muggle family had died as well. The three of them were killed in a car crash and yet miraculously, Harry again survived. What happened to him after that time became lost amongst rumour. It was Sirius’s belief, though, that Dumbledore had had something to do with Harry’s disappearance.

However, as Harry had been born only ten months after Hermione, she reckoned, he should have been in the same year as her at Hogwarts. For she had attended it for a year but had been miserable. She was naturally intelligent and yet had never had any real friends. She would give anything to see any of her old classmates, though – as much as Ron Weasley or Lavender Brown might have teased her, they were good. They were good people. But now they were gone… all gone…

But Harry, it seemed, hadn’t. When his name had been called out at the Sorting and no one had responded the panic in Albus Dumbledore’s eyes had been beyond evident. Somewhere along the line he had miscalculated. Hermione often wondered what it would have been like if Harry actually had come to Hogwarts that year¹. Would Voldemort have killed him too?

All this flashed through Hermione’s mind in a matter of seconds as she turned back to Sirius.

‘How do you know?’

‘I’ve heard them speaking about it … apparently he’s protected by some powerful charm.’

‘Dumbledore!’ Hermione cried. ‘Why, he was muttering an incantation when he died. Didn’t seem to care a jot about Voldemort. Could that have been it?’

Sirius smiled. ‘It’s a shame you never got to know Dumbledore. One of the most incredible men I’ve ever met. It sounds very like something he’d do; protect Harry in his last moments.
But this is really happening, Hermione. With the power of the stone Voldemort can break the charm. If he gets to Harry first, then…’

He seemed loath to finish his sentence but Hermione knew what he meant.

‘What are you suggesting?’ Hermione asked.

‘If Harry really is where we think he is, Hermione,’ he said, his eyes sad, ‘then we must get to him first. Have you dreamed recently?’

Sirius asked this question because on a number of occasions, Hermione had dreamt about destroying Lord Voldemort. And yet in these dreams two others – someone with a scar and someone with red hair – always accompanied her in his downfall. The scar she had little trouble in interpreting. Somehow Harry Potter would return to the magical world. That was why she felt, unlike the handful of other good wizards in the world, that he was still alive. And now Sirius had confirmed it.

The other was a lot more vague. All the redheads she had once known were now dead. She thought primarily of the Weasleys, an old wizarding family. Every one of them had had red hair. Ron Weasley had been in her year – she had not got on especially well with him except on one occasion with Draco Malfoy, for Malfoy had also been in her year – and yet she had respected him in a way. He had at least three other brothers, she knew, for they had been above her in school. His two twin brothers she knew were dead, for they had been two of the first to go. His other brother Percy had been a Prefect – she remembering talking with him at the start of the year and again at the end – and someone she had greatly respected. She did not know where he was, but assumed he was dead too. And Ron had other siblings, she seemed to recall, for he had talked about them with his friend Seamus Finnigan …

She hated remembering Hogwarts. It was another life, a dream world. She came back to the present sharply.

‘No … Sirius, do you know what happened to the Weasley family?’

Sirius assumed an expression of deepest loathing before he spoke. Hermione knew he reserved that look for one person only.

‘You know Wormtail, whom I sometimes speak of?’

Hermione nodded. She did know. Wormtail, or Peter Pettigrew, had been one of Sirius’ closest school friends. He had been equally close to James Potter. Wormtail had gone over to the dark side, though, and given away Lily and James to the Dark Lord. Not only that, he had somehow managed to frame Sirius for the murder and give him years of suffering in Azkaban.

‘Well, you know he was an Animagus, then?’

Hermione nodded again. She had heard many tales of Sirius’ youth, with his friends James, Peter and Remus Lupin.

‘I found out some years ago that he was not in such secure hiding as I had thought whilst Voldemort was weak.’ He spoke about the time as though not really believing it had ever existed. ‘He became a pet –’ Sirius’ voice quivered, ‘ – one of the Weasley children found him. One of the older ones. He passed into Ron Weasley’s care…’

Hermione gasped. ‘Ron had a rat! I remember him showing it to me! He called it Scabbers.’

‘Yes,’ said Sirius bitterly. ‘Well apparently, the summer after Voldemort’s rise to power, Scabbers revealed his true form in the Weasley household. Mr and Mrs Weasley were killed, as was their oldest son Bill. Their second son Charlie disarmed Wormtail and was about to kill him when Wormtail transformed and escaped. That is all I know.’

Hermione felt another desperate tug at her heart. She tried to imagine Ron Weasley – defending her against Draco Malfoy. His whole family torn apart in such a short space of time…

‘Whatever happened to his brother? Charlie?’ Sirius sighed.

‘I don’t know. I do happen to know he was studying dragons in Romania … but after seeing his family killed like that he may well have gone insane. I know I would have…’
Hermione privately agreed. If she had seen Draco torturing and murdering her parents… it did not bear thinking about.

‘You think he’s dead, then?’

‘Who knows?’ Sirius said calmly. ‘Even Remus might still be out there somewhere, hidden from the world. Though I doubt it…’ There was a clear longing in Sirius’ voice as he said this. Hermione felt tears around her eyes. After six years the evil in the world could still surprise her. She felt something stir inside her.

‘I will go,’ she said determinedly.

‘What?’ said Sirius, obviously distracted.

‘I will go to India. I will try and find Harry and help him.’

Sirius looked shocked. ‘Hermione … are you serious?’ Hermione couldn’t resist a slight smile.

‘I believe that’s you, actually.’ Sirius rolled his eyes. ‘I want to do this, Sirius. I owe it to you. And to Harry.’

Sirius smiled. ‘I was never given a chance to fall in love, Hermione. Or to get married. But if I’d had a daughter who was half the woman you are, I would have been the happiest father alive.’

Hermione held back tears as she embraced Sirius. He truly was like a father to her. Ever since rescuing her from Hogwarts that day, he had always been there. He had taught her the ways of the world, how to look after herself. He had taught the ways of an Animagus, as well, the thing she would always be most grateful for. He had saved her life many times, even once that day. The two shared a bond as strong as any bond between a father and daughter.

*

That night, Hermione dreamed again. She saw Ron Weasley, laughing happily, but then a vision of Wormtail killing his parents and brother. Just as she heard the screams the vision dissolved and there she was again, having defeated the Dark Lord…

To her left … he stood. Tall and proud, he stood. His green eyes shone like emeralds in the gloom and the scar on his forehead burned red. She then realised he was in the centre, this time. To his left there stood another, with flaming hair. She could not make out features, for the redhead was further away. They lifted their wands in tandem and then the scene dissolved.

Hermione sat up in the morning and thought to herself. She thought about her dream, and about Sirius, and Draco, and about the perilous mission she was undertaking. And she thought about Harry. Out there somewhere in the world, not knowing he was special. Not knowing he was powerful. Not knowing he was needed. Not knowing that he was the only living person ever to have survived a curse from Lord Voldemort…

Hermione wondered idly what Draco would think if he heard the news. Would he go running off to find Harry? No, she thought. Draco’s quarrel is with me. She thought back to the time. It had been less than a year ago … Draco had not known that Hermione knew about her parents’ murderer. She had deceived him … deceived them all. With Sirius’ training she had had just enough emotional willpower to get through it. But she had succeeded.

For it was true that Lucius Malfoy had for a while been in control of Hogwarts. But he and his wife both lay in eternal sleep thanks to a particularly violent stunning charm. Hermione still had occasional nightmares about it … seeing their bodies falling backwards … Draco’s disbelieving stare … the anguished, wrenched cries. Hermione regretted their deaths. She could admit that to herself. But the look of pure hatred in Draco’s eyes when the bodies fell silent… for the briefest second she regretted how she hurt him.

But it was an eye for and eye, when she thought about it afterwards. Your parents … my parents. Hermione hated Draco no less than he hated her. The difference was that Draco had intentionally killed Hermione’s parents. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were impaled upon their own statues by a stunning curse.

Since then, meetings between Draco and Hermione had usually ended with one of them narrowly avoiding death. Six years as a fugitive with Sirius had hardened Hermione, certainly, let alone seeing Draco’s parents die before her eyes. She felt nervous about the task ahead of her, but also that essentially, there was no one else that could help.

Sirius had agreed to help her on the dangerous journey out of Europe. Apparition would reveal them to the Dark Side. That was no option. But Hermione had her Animagus form and she had her wings. Sirius had provided her with a new pair.

Unfortunately, Draco knew perfectly well that she was an Animagus; just not what form she took. Even with his good eyesight he could not tell a Phoenix from any other bird in dim light.

Sirius had prepared breakfast when she went through to the kitchen.

‘All right?’ he said, smiling, as he passed her a plate. On it was her favourite breakfast – fried kippers, toast and a small Diricawl’s egg. How Sirius knew where to get these things she didn’t know, but did not argue as she ate quietly.

Sirius had gone to check the security, meanwhile. He came back in whistling.

‘All the fields are intact, no problem there,’ he said, as Hermione swallowed.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘We should make an early start.’ Sirius nodded and drew out a map from his pocket.

‘It’s not an easy route, Hermione,’ he admitted. ‘Even with wings and your Animagus form it could take weeks or even months to get there. It also depends on how heavily guarded the path we’re taking is.’

Hermione nodded, conceding the point. ‘Which way will we go?’ Sirius unfolded the map on the table and pointed to where they were.

‘We’re here,’ he said, ‘just east of Zürich. Now, I think it would be good to head for the Black Sea – I don’t want you to spend too much time on land – but I don’t want you crossing the Caspian Sea or venturing too far north into Russia. If you could fly from Romania, here –’ He pointed to the map. ‘Over the Black Sea into Ukraine – that way you avoid the border. The borders out of Europe are nightmarish, take it from me. Then from there you can fly until you reach Georgia, and then technically you’re out of Europe. Now, if you…’

Sirius went on to explain what he thought would be the best passage into India. Hermione listened attentively. She had learnt long ago that Sirius was a wise man who’d seen much of the world since escaping from Azkaban.

A couple of hours later, they had decided upon a route. Hermione had little idea whereabouts in India to find Harry, but decided to cross that bridge when she came to it. She could sense dark activity in her Animagus form, and figured that once she got to India there would plenty of it around.

They packed their things in the evening, still discussing the difficulties on the road ahead. Crossing through Romania was going to be most difficult, but it was far safer than risking the path down through Bulgaria or the Ukranian borders.

Hermione got to bed earlier that night and had dreamless sleep for once. Sirius watched her from the doorway as she lay peacefully. He was proud of Hermione. She had come such a long way from the terrified little girl he had taken from the Hogwarts grounds six years ago. And she had changed emotionally, not just physically. He often chided himself for bringing her into the whole thing, but he he’d known she was needed. He had been told. She really was a Gryffindor through and through – her long standing relationship with Draco Malfoy made that much clear.

He smiled as she turned over. She reminded him so much of another young girl he’d known – back in another life before the world was turned over. When they were all young. And yet Hermione had seen things Lily Potter had not. Whether she knew it or not, the wizarding world’s hopes rested heavily on her shoulders. Sirius would help her all he could, but knew the journey to find Harry would be too hard for him to complete.

‘Good night, Hermione,’ he said softly, as he slowly closed her door.