Harry Potter and the Pretty Sorcerer's Balls

Chapter 16 - Through the Trapdoor

"If Quirrell really is dying - why doesn't he just take the stone?" Draco asked, "Why go through the bother of killing unicorns first?"

"Maybe he doesn't know how to get past all the guards yet - so the unicorn blood buys him time." Hermione guessed. "A better question is, if he's dying - why doesn't he just have Madam Pomfrey heal him - or go to St. Mungo's?"

"Maybe they've tried everything and nothing is working?" Ron ventured.

"Humph," Harry sniffed, "Seems a bit mean to make a dying man protect the elixir of life if you ask me."

"Maybe they don't know." Hermione mused. "Or maybe he's not really dying."

"Then why kill the unicorns?" Draco wondered. "He didn't take the blood for someone else - we saw him drinking it himself."

"Then there are the centaurs," Hermione continued. "Did you hear the way Firenze said good-bye to Harry? Bane and Ronan were even worse!"

"You think they saw my death in the stars?" Harry squirmed.

"Professor McGonagall says that fortune telling is a very imprecise branch of magic - but still, to hear those centaurs say good-bye ..." she shivered. "And what about what Ronan said about the innocent always being the first victims? The first victims of what?"

"War." Draco said nonchalantly. The four fell quiet and peeked around the library to ensure their privacy yet again.

"And another thing," Hermione continued, keeping her voice down, " - why is the Sorcerer's Stone so well protected? Six different professors plus Hagrid are guarding it!"

"I know - you'd think it was the end of the world or something." Ron said. "I mean really - who cares if someone steals it? That Flamel guy has been using it for a good 400 years and nobody seemed to mind."

"Seriously," Draco snorted, "you'd think the Dark Lord himself were after the damn thing!"

"Why do you call him that?" Ron groaned, "It's sounds so stupid."

"Better than You-Know-Who if you ask me."

Hermione and Harry locked widened eyes.

"Funny coincidence, don't you think?" Hermione said under her breath.

"That Yoo Hoo wanted immortality and also wanted me dead -"

"And now someone that wants you dead is after something that will make them immortal -"

"And is busy drinking unicorn blood -"

"That will keep them alive even if they're an inch from death."

"You guys don't really think ..." Ron sputtered.

"No, no, that's impossible," Harry giggled. "We know it's Quirrell that's after me - he's not Yoo Hoo."

"But Quirrell is the one who keeps setting off your scar," Draco said in awe, "the scar the Dark Lord gave you."

"They say Quirrell was fine until he went out to study dark creatures hands on - and he came back with his stutter and afraid of his own shadow." Hermione was breathless, "and you yourself said that being such a coward is the perfect cover for being a psycho killer."

"And I know for sure that Professor Snape was ... involved back when the Dark Lord was taking over."

"You think they're trying to bring Voldemort back?" Harry whispered.

"I ... I don't know what to think," Hermione moaned. "But I'm pretty sure it's not a good idea for Quirrell to get his hands on the Sorcerer's Stone."

Ron shook his head, "You guys - I don't know what you're all worrying about. Even if they're trying to bring You-Know-Who back, the stone has been here all year and they haven't managed to steal it yet. Professor Dumbledore was the only wizard You-Know-Who didn't want to mess with, you don't really think Snape and Quirrell have it in them to get past him, do you?"

"Ron's right," Hermione nodded, "As long as Professor Dumbledore's here, the stone is safe."

Harry and Draco nodded but still looked uneasy.

Exams came and went in a flash, and Harry did his best to work through the stabbing pains in his forehead that had been present ever since his trip in the forest. Neville thought that Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep but the truth was that Harry kept expecting Voldemort to burst into his room flanked by Snape and Quirrell.

Harry and Ron were lounging with the other Gryffindors after their last exam of the year. Hermione had gone to ask Professor McGonagall a question about the summer work for Transfiguration and they were all going to meet Hagrid for a celebratory tea later in the afternoon. A collective gasp ran through the common room.

Hermione had burst through the portrait hole followed closely by Draco. Both were pale as death and Hermione was in near hysterics.

Before the stunned Gryffindors could say a word about the Slytherin's presence, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm and ran to the first year boy's dorm. Only Neville was inside and he seemed doubly surprised to see a girl and a Slytherin in their room.

"Hermione!" Harry wailed, "What's happened?"

Hermione's lip trembled, "I just wanted to see!" she cried.

"I dared her to levitate his turban - and she did!" Draco gasped. "There was - a head - a face."

"What are you trying to say?" Ron grabbed his arm.

"There was someone on the back of his head - that's who he's trying to keep alive with the unicorn blood - that - that thing leeching off his head!"

"Was it Voldemort?" Harry whispered.

"I don't know." Hermione sniffed.

"It wasn't anything good. It was like a snake - with red eyes."

"What happened?"

"We ran like Fluffy's whole family was chasing us and tried to find Dumbledore -"

"And?!" Ron exclaimed.

"He's gone."

"What?" Ron gasped. "But - but the stone."

"We were trying to tell McGonagall but she wasn't listening." Draco sneered, "Quirrell is probably in the third floor corridor as we speak."

"What are you guys talking about?" Neville squeaked.

"Neville," Harry started. "Something really bad is about to happen. And we have to stop it."

"How, Harry?" Ron moaned.

Harry shimmied his shoulders and planted his feet, "We'll have to get the stone ourselves - or at least stall him until a professor arrives."

"But Fluffy -"

"I've been thinking about that for ages," Harry began rummaging though his trunk until he found the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. "Hagrid knew that we had found Fluffy before Christmas, right? And he probably knew that we'd be sneaking back to peek at him. He knows I'm not really very musical - despite my best efforts - so why did he give me a flute?"

"Bit of a long-shot Harry." Draco said.

"But maybe Quirrell has already got past him so we won't have to do anything anyway." Ron added.

"And what happens if we catch up with Quirrell?" Draco scorned, "One of us hits him with the leg locker curse while Hermione stops blubbering long enough to set him on fire?"

"I guess if we see anything that looks like a weapon between here and the corridor," Ron shrugged, "we'll bring it with us."

The five students looked ghastly ill but made their way out of the dorm.

"You don't have to come with us Neville," Ron pointed out. Neville just shook his head and trembled his way through the common room and portrait hole.

"Hermione," Harry said gently, "Find Hagrid - or whatever Professor you see first - tell them everything and get them to the corridor as fast as you can."

Hermione nodded and threw her arms around Harry, "Be careful!" she cried before running down the hall.

The boys hurried to the corridor - grabbing the only weapon they could find along the way, a rusty sword an ailing suit of armour had dropped but whose back was too bad to let him bend down to pick up.

They listened at the door and heard Fluffy whining loudly inside.

"We should start playing now - before we open the door." Ron suggested.

"I'll play," Neville whimpered.

"And if it doesn't work we'll slam the door shut and think of something else." Harry assured him. Neville began playing the flute while Ron and Draco inched the door open. They could hear the whining inside begin to quiet down as Neville continued to play.

"I think it's working!" Harry gushed in spite of himself. "Keep playing Neville."

The four made their way into the corridor and were met by a terrible sight. Fluffy had curled into a ball and was now sleeping peacefully - but a gash on his side was bleeding profusely. The trapdoor was open.

"Quirrell!" Ron cursed.

"Hermione should be back with a professor soon Neville - move outside the door as soon as we're through and just keep playing until they get here." Harry patted the boys back, "Fluffy's hurt - and it'll be better for him if he just stays asleep until someone can take care of him."

Neville nodded fearfully and the other three eased through the trapdoor.

They fell and fell and seemed to keep falling until -

FLUMP. They landed softly on what seemed to be some sort of plant.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really." Ron muttered before letting out a strangled cry.

The plant had twisted tendrils around his legs without him noticing and was now creeping around his arms and neck.

"Eeeek!" Harry cried as he noticed the plant binding his legs. Draco began chopping at the plant with the rusty sword until he himself was free then kept on chopping until Ron and Harry were able to squirm away.

"That was the most manual labour I've ever done in my life!" Draco cursed. Ron snorted and Harry burst into nervous giggles.

"Two guards down - five more to go," Ron whispered as they hurried down the stone passage they were on.

They were soon in a chamber closed off by a huge locked wooden door. With brooms to one side and what seemed to be hundreds of keys flying in the high arched ceiling, Harry soon found himself on a very impromptu Quidditch pitch - looking for, by Ron's estimation, a large old silver key. Between the three of them, they managed to trap the key and stuff it into the lock. They pulled the door open.

Harry panted and clutched onto the broom, having the broom-handle in his hands calmed him down, "What's this?" he asked as he looked around. Light flooded through the room and before them stood the backs of two rows of men - who looked as though they were carved out of black stone. They were at the edge of an enormous chessboard and far across the way the white pieces could be seen.

"Do you play, Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"Ermm." Draco squirmed.

"Ron," Harry huffed, "Just tell us what to do!"

"I think we have to play our way across, we'll have to switch places with three of the black pieces on the board." Ron scrutinized the faceless stone forms, "Draco, take the bishop and Harry, you'll be the queen."

Draco snorted.

"I will not!" Harry huffed. "If this is a live game of wizards chess I'd rather we settle into the positions least likely to get smashed to bits, thank you very much!"

Ron turned a deep shade of red, "Er - right. Switch with the King then - "

"Isn't the King the target?" Draco sneered.

"Yes but it'll also be our most protected game piece - I'll play so that if we lose all the other pieces will have been taken first."

"Funny how that doesn't reassure me in the slightest," Harry whined as the King vacated his position.

"Malfoy - switch with the rook."

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"I'll leave that rook untouched in case we need to castle later on." Ron took a deep breath and patted a knight on the shoulder, it bowed and left his post.

"But -" Harry started.

"- I need to be able to see the whole board, Harry - I can't do that if I'm stuck in a useless position." A moment later a white piece moved two spaces forward, starting the game.

It was a brutal contest and the white pieces were ferocious, the board was littered with mangled chessmen.

"We're nearly there," Ron murmured, gazing across the board. The white queen seemed to turn her faceless stare his way. "Yes ..." he said softly, "it's the only way ... I'll take one step forward, and the queen will take me. Then you'll move that bishop to checkmate the king."

"Take you?" Draco puzzled, "But -"

"Ron no!" Harry squealed.

"Look, I don't reckon we can just stop playing - and there's no other way. If we don't take our chance to win right now we might not get another try." Ron squinted his eyes shut and lifted his foot.

"Wait!" Harry cried. "Cover your head before you move!"

Ron nodded and huddled under his arms before stepping forward. The white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard around his head and arms with her stone fist and he crashed to the floor.

Harry wailed while Draco instructed their bishop to take the opposing king. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. Harry and Draco charged through the door and up the next passageway. They reached another door and found a troll even larger than the one from Hallowe'en lying flat on the floor, apparently out cold. They went through yet another door and immediately purple fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. Black flames sprang up in the doorway leading onwards, they were trapped. Inside the room was a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's" Draco muttered. They picked up a scroll lying next to the bottles and read -

"A riddle." Harry groaned. "We don't have time for this!" He stuffed the parchment in Draco's arms and began peering intently at each bottle. "It's this one!" he cried picking up the smallest bottle.

"How do you know?" Draco awed.

"It's the only one with lip-prints." Harry held up the bottle to the light, "There's only enough for one swallow. I'll take it -

"You can't!" Draco exclaimed, "What if the Dark Lord is already alive again?"

Harry reached for Draco's rusty sword and tucked the broom under his arm, "I got lucky once with him, didn't I? And I just have to hold him off until a Professor comes." He lifted up the bottle, "Since you know this one sends us forward, it shouldn't be too hard to work backwards in the riddle to figure out which one will take you through the purple flames."

"Harry -" Draco sputtered.

Harry downed the remaining potion and kissed Draco full on the mouth before turning and jumping through the black flames.