13. Through the Trapdoor
Despite her mind being preoccupied with You-Know-Who and the Philosopher's Stone, Hope had managed to focus on exams. The heat was sweltering, especially in the large classroom where they took their written papers. They had been given special new quills, bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.
They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched as they turned a mouse into a snuffbox—points were given for how pretty it was but deducted if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks as they struggled to remember how to brew a Forgetfulness Potion.
Focusing on exams had been difficult. Her sleep was often interrupted, her mind drifting to the image of the hooded figure standing over the unicorn, dripping blood. As distracted as she was, Hope was grateful she wasn't Harry. Ever since their trip to the forest, he had continued to get stabbing pains in his forehead. It had gotten so bad that Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves, but the truth was, he was being woken by nightmares.
Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what she and Harry had seen in the forest, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he wasn't invading their dreams. They were so caught up in revision that they barely had time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.
Their final exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about eccentric old wizards who invented self-stirring cauldrons, and then they'd be free—free for a whole wonderful week until their results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Hope let out a relieved sigh, slumping back into her chair as most of the students cheered.
"That was far easier than I thought it would be," Hermione said as they joined the crowds heading outside into the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."
Hermione always liked to go over their exam papers afterward, but Ron said it made him feel ill. Instead, they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid basking in the warm shallows.
"No more revision," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look a bit more cheerful, Harry. We've got a whole week before we find out how badly we've done—no need to worry yet."
Hope turned to see Harry rubbing his forehead. "Is your scar hurting again?"
Harry nodded. "I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "It's happened before, but never this often."
"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.
"I'm not ill," Harry muttered. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming."
Ron, too hot to care, waved him off. "Harry, relax. Hermione's right. The Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. And we've got no proof Snape figured out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once; he's not going to try it again. Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."
Hope lay back, letting the sun warm her face. "He's right, Harry. Let's not worry about it until we have to."
Harry nodded but couldn't shake the feeling that he'd forgotten something important. When he tried to explain, Hermione waved it off. "That's just the exams. I woke up last night halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd already taken that one."
Harry was certain it wasn't about schoolwork. He watched an owl flutter toward the castle, a note clamped in its beak. Only Hagrid ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but—
Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.
"Where're you going?" Ron asked sleepily.
"I just thought of something," Harry said. His face had gone pale. "We've got to go see Hagrid. Now."
"Why?" Hermione panted, hurrying to keep up.
"Don't you think it's a bit odd," Harry said, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon—and a stranger just happens to show up with an egg? How many people wander around with dragon eggs when it's against wizarding law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"
Hope groaned, reluctantly pushing herself up. "So much for not having to worry," she mumbled.
"What are you on about?" Ron asked, but Harry was already sprinting toward the Forest.
Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his hut, his sleeves and trousers rolled up as he shelled peas into a large bowl.
"Hullo," he greeted them, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"
"Yes, please," Ron started, but Harry cut across him.
"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I have to ask you something. The night you won Norbert—what did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"
"Dunno," Hagrid said casually. "Wouldn' take his cloak off."
The four of them exchanged raised brows.
"It's not that unusual," Hagrid added. "Yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head—that's one of the pubs down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, kept his hood up."
Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk about? Did you mention Hogwarts?"
"Mighta come up," Hagrid admitted, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... asked about the creatures I look after... so I told him... an' I said I always wanted a dragon... an' then..." He frowned. "I can' remember too well—he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it, but he had ter be sure I could handle it. Didn' want it ter go to any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy—"
Hope closed her eyes. She had hoped she was wrong, that Hagrid wouldn't have let any more information slip.
"And did he—did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, his voice tight.
"Well—yeah—how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even 'round 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—"
Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.
"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted. "Forget I said it! Hey—where're yeh goin'?!" he called out as they hurried back toward the castle.
They didn't speak until they reached the Entrance Hall. The bright grounds seemed far away now, replaced by the cold gloom of the castle.
"We've got to go to Dumbledore," Harry said. "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?' he asked.
Three pairs of eyes turned to Hope.
She hesitated. "I... don't remember," she admitted sheepishly.
"Hope," Hermione whined.
"How do you not remember?" Ron groaned.
"I was nervous! I wasn't really paying attention to anything—I was just following Snape," she defended. "I'd recognize the entrance if I saw it. There was this big gargoyle statue—oh! And I remember the password!"
"We'll just have to—" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.
Professor McGonagall approached, a large pile of books in her arms.
"What are you four doing inside?"
It was Professor McGonagall, balancing a large stack of books.
"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, rather bravely.
"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very suspicious request. "Why?"
Harry swallowed—now what? "It's sort of a secret," he said, but he instantly regretted it as Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.
"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."
"He's gone?" Harry asked frantically. "Now?"
"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter. He has many demands on his time—" McGonagall replied.
"But this is important," Harry urged.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"
"Look," Harry said, throwing caution to the wind. "Professor—it's about the Philosopher's Stone—"
Whatever McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled from her arms, but she didn't pick them up.
"How do you know—?" she spluttered.
"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."
She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.
"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. "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 said sharply. Bending down, she gathered up her fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."
But they didn't.
"It's tonight," Harry said once McGonagall was out of earshot. "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—" Hermione began, but Hope quickly nudged her to stop her from saying anymore.
Hermione, Harry and Ron wheeled around. Snape was standing there.
"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.
They stared at him.
"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he continued with an odd, twisted smile.
"We were—" Harry began, with no idea what he was going to say.
"You want to be more careful," Snape said. "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 flushed, while Hope looked down. They turned to leave, but Snape called them back.
"Be warned, Potter, Lupin—any more nighttime wanderings, and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."
He strode off toward the staff room. Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.
"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has to keep an eye on Snape—wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves. Hermione, you'd better do that."
"Why me?" Hermione asked.
"It's obvious," Ron said. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick. You know—" He put on a high voice. "Oh, Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen B wrong..."
"Oh, shut up," Hermione huffed, but she agreed to go watch Snape.
"And we'd better stay near the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron and Hope. "Come on."
But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall appeared again—this time, she was furious.
"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"
Defeated, the three returned to the common room.
"At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," Harry said when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione rushed in.
"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick—and Snape went to get him! I only just got away. I don't know where Snape went."
"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.
The three stared at him. He was pale, and his eyes were glittering.
"I'm going out there tonight," he said determinedly. "I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."
"What?!" Hope blinked.
"You're mad!" Ron said.
"You can't!" Hermione protested. "After what McGonagall and Snape said? You'll be expelled!"
"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets 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 anymore—can't you see?
Do you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the House Cup? If I get caught before I reach the Stone, then I'll just 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 because I am never going over to the Dark Side!
I'm going through that trapdoor tonight, and nothing you say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"
He glared at them.
"You're right, Harry," Hermione said in a small voice.
"I'll use the Invisibility Cloak," Harry said. "It's just lucky I got it back."
"But will it cover all four of us?" Ron asked.
"It covered the twins and me when we snuck into the dungeons, and the twins are much taller," Hope noted thoughtfully.
"All— all four of us?" Harry questioned.
"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?" Ron scoffed.
"Of course not," Hermione said briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better check my books—there might be something useful..."
"But if we get caught, you three will be expelled too," Harry said worriedly.
"Not if I can help it," Hermione said grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."
"Besides, like you said, Harry—this is bigger than school," Hope added.
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After dinner, the four of them sat apart in the common room, each lost in their own thoughts. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry or Hope anymore, after all. For the first time, Harry wasn't upset by it.
Hermione skimmed through her notes, hoping to find one of the enchantments they were about to break. Hope sat fidgeting with her necklace, staring into the fire. Harry and Ron didn't talk much, both preoccupied with what they were about to do.
Slowly, the room emptied as students drifted off to bed.
"Better get the Cloak," Ron muttered as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning.
Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out the Cloak, then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy—he didn't feel much like singing.
He ran back down to the common room. "We'd better put the Cloak on here, 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?" a voice asked from the corner of the room.
Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.
"Nothing, Neville, nothing," Harry said hurriedly, shoving the Cloak behind his back.
Neville stared at their guilty faces. "You're going out again."
"No, no, no," Hermione said quickly. "Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"
Harry glanced at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time. Snape might already be playing Fluffy to sleep.
"You can't go out," Neville said. "You'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."
"Neville, you know I'm the last person who wants Gryffindor to lose more points, but this is important," Hope stressed.
But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate. "I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll—I'll fight you!"
"Neville!" Ron exploded. "Get away from that hole and don't be an idiot—"
"Don't call me an idiot!" Neville shot back. "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," Ron said, exasperated. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."
He stepped forward, and Neville dropped Trevor, who leapt out of sight.
"Go on then, try and hit me!" Neville said, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"
Harry turned to Hermione. "Do something."
Hermione stepped forward. "Neville, I'm really, really sorry about this."
She raised her wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"
Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. Stiff as a board, he swayed in place before falling flat on his face.
Hermione ran to turn him over. His jaws were locked tight, his eyes darting frantically between them.
"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.
"It's the full Body-Bind," Hermione said miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."
"We had to, Neville. No time to explain," Harry added.
"You'll understand later," Ron assured him as they stepped over him and pulled on the Invisibility Cloak.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Hope rushed back. She couldn't just leave Neville lying on the ground like that. Who knew how long he'd be stuck? She grabbed his shoulders, struggling to lift him.
"What are you doing?" Harry hissed.
"We can't just leave him here," Hope argued. "Help me."
Ron let out a groan, but he and Harry moved to help. The three of them roughly carried Neville to the couch. Hope grabbed a blanket from an armchair and draped it over him—trying to make him as comfortable as someone who had been Petrificus Totalus'd could be.
"I'm really sorry, Neville. It will all make sense later, I promise," Hope murmured before hurrying back to the others. They clambered under the Cloak and slipped out of the common room.
In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them.
At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.
"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear.
Harry shook his head. As they carefully climbed around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamp-like eyes on them but did nothing.
They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet.
"Who's there?" he said suddenly, narrowing his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"
He floated in place, squinting. "Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."
Harry had a sudden idea. "Peeves," he said in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."
Peeves nearly fell out of the air in shock. "So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake—of course I didn't see you—you're invisible! Forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."
"I have business here, Peeves," Harry croaked. "Stay away from this place tonight."
"I will, sir, I most certainly will," Peeves said, floating higher. "Hope your business goes well, Baron. I'll not bother you." And he scooted off.
"Brilliant, Harry!" Ron whispered.
A few seconds later, they reached the third-floor corridor—and the door was already ajar.
"Well, there you are," Harry murmured. "Snape's already got past Fluffy."
The open door made everything suddenly feel more real. Underneath the Cloak, Harry turned to the others.
"If you want to go back, I won't blame you. You can take the Cloak, I won't need it now."
"Don't be stupid," Ron said.
"We're coming," Hermione added.
"Not a chance," Hope said firmly.
Harry pushed the door open. As it creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.
"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.
"Looks like a harp," Ron muttered. "Snape must have left it there."
"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," Harry said. "Well, here goes ..."
He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note, the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased. It tottered on its paws, then fell to its knees before slumping to the ground, fast asleep.
"Keep playing," Ron warned as they slipped out of the Cloak and crept towards the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached its massive heads.
"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," Ron said, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"
"No, I don't!"
"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.
"What can you see?" Hope asked anxiously.
"Nothing—just black. There's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop." He answered, perring down the door.
Harry, still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself.
"You want to go first? Are you sure?" Ron hesitated. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."
Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.
Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom. He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron.
"If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the Owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"
Ron nodded. "Right."
"See you in a minute, I hope..." And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down—FLUMP. With a muffled thump, he landed on something soft. He sat up, eyes adjusting to the gloom. It felt like some sort of plant.
"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp. "It's a soft landing, you can jump!"
Ron followed immediately, landing sprawled next to Harry.
"What's this stuff?"
"Dunno, some kind of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall."
The music stopped again. The dog twitched, but Hope quickly resumed playing as Hermione jumped through the trapdoor. She landed near Ron, but when she stilled, her eyes widened in horror at what they were sitting in.
Then the distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hope had already jumped, landing on Harry's other side.
"We must be miles under the school," she breathed, looking up.
"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," Ron mused.
"Lucky?" Hermione shrieked. "Look at you both!"
She leapt up, struggling toward a damp wall. The moment she landed, the plant had started to twist snake-like tendrils around her ankles. Harry and Ron, unaware, had already been bound tightly by the creepers.
Hope, having jumped last, felt the vines just beginning to curl around her. She bolted up, moving toward Hermione. The two of them watched in horror as the boys fought to free themselves, but the more they strained, the tighter the plant wound around them.
"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered. "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," Ron snapped, trying to keep it from curling around his neck.
"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!"
"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped as the vines constricted around his chest.
"I really wish I had paid attention in herbology!" Hope muttered watching the boys struggle, anxiously.
"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... What did Professor Sprout say? It likes the dark and the damp—"
"So light a fire!" Harry choked out.
"Yes—of course—but there's no wood!"
Hope shot her an incredulous look.
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"
"Oh! Right!" Hermione whipped out her wand, waved it, and muttered a spell. A jet of bluebell flames shot out, the same she had used on Snape. In seconds, the plant cringed away from the heat. Its grip loosened, unraveling itself from their bodies, and they pulled free.
"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," Harry said, wiping sweat from his face.
"Yeah," Ron muttered. "And lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis—'There's no wood,' honestly."
"This way." Harry pointed down the stone passageway ahead. The only sound apart from their footsteps was water trickling down the walls.
"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.
Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking echoed from up ahead.
"Do you think it's a ghost?" Harry asked.
"Ghosts aren't that noisy, are they?" Hope muttered.
"I don't know... sounds like wings to me," Ron murmured.
"There's light ahead—I can see something moving," Hermione said.
They reached the end of the passageway and stepped into a brilliantly lit chamber. The ceiling arched high above them. Small, jewel-bright birds fluttered and tumbled around the room. On the opposite side stood a heavy wooden door.
"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross?" Ron eyed the birds warily.
"Probably," Harry said. "They don't look vicious, but if they all swooped down at once... Well, nothing for it. I'll run."
He took a deep breath, covered his face, and sprinted. He expected sharp beaks and claws, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle—it was locked.
The others followed. Hermione tried her Alohomora charm, but it didn't budge.
"Now what?" Ron groaned.
"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," Hermione murmured.
They watched them soaring overhead—glittering.
"They're not birds!" Harry realized. "They're keys! Winged keys—look! That means..." He scanned the chamber. "Yes! Look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"
"But there are hundreds!" Hermione exclaimed.
Ron examined the lock. "We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one—probably silver, like the handle."
They mounted the brooms and soared into the whirling mass of keys. Harry quickly spotted one with a bent wing.
"That one!" he called. "The big one with blue wings!"
The four of them moved in. Hope darted forward, Ron dived, Hermione tried to cut it off, but the key dodged them all. Harry streaked after it and, with a crunch, pinned it against the stone.
He jammed it into the lock. The moment it clicked open, the key flapped weakly away.
"Ready?" Harry asked. They nodded. He pulled the door open.
The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped inside, light suddenly flooded the room, revealing an astonishing sight.
They stood at the edge of a massive chessboard, behind the black chessmen, each towering over them and carved from what looked like black stone. Across the chamber, the white pieces loomed just as large, their faceless forms making Harry, Hope, Ron, and Hermione shiver slightly.
"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron said. "We've got to play our way across the room."
Beyond the white pieces, they could see another door.
"How?" Hermione asked nervously.
"I think," Ron said, "we're going to have to be chessmen."
He stepped up to a black knight, reaching out to touch the stone horse. Instantly, the piece sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground, and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.
"Do we—er—have to join you to get across?" he asked.
The black knight nodded.
Ron turned back to the others. "This needs thinking through... I suppose we have to take the place of four of the black pieces."
Harry, Hope, and Hermione stayed quiet, watching as Ron considered their options. Finally, he said, "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but none of you are that great at chess."
"We're not offended," Harry said quickly. "Just tell us what to do."
"Right. Harry, you'll be that bishop. Hermione, you take that castle. Hope, you'll be the pawn over there."
"What about you?" Harry asked.
"I'm going to be a knight."
The chessmen seemed to understand because, at Ron's words, a knight, a bishop, a pawn, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty squares. Hope, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped into place.
"White always plays first," Ron muttered, peering across the board. "Yeah... look."
A white pawn slid forward two squares.
Ron began directing the black pieces, which moved silently under his command. Hope's heart pounded—one wrong move and You-Know-Who would have the Stone.
"Harry, move diagonally four squares to the right," Ron instructed.
Their first real shock came when one of their knights was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay motionless, face down.
"Had to let that happen," Ron said, shaken. "It clears the way for you to take that bishop, Hermione. Go on."
The white pieces showed no mercy. Every time a black piece was lost, it was left limp along the wall. Three times, Ron barely saved Hope, Harry, and Hermione from danger. He darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they lost black ones.
"We're nearly there," he muttered. "Let me think... let me think..."
The white queen turned her blank face toward him.
"Yeah... it's the only way... I've got to be taken."
"No!" Harry and Hermione shouted.
"You can't!" Hope yelled.
"That's chess!" Ron snapped. "You have to make sacrifices! I'll move, she'll take me, and that leaves Harry free to checkmate the king!"
"But—" Harry started.
"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 other choice.
"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go—and don't hang around once you've won."
He stepped forward. The white queen pounced, striking him hard across the head with her stone arm. He crashed to the floor. Hermione screamed but held her position. Hope's eyes filled with tears as the white queen dragged Ron aside, his limp figure unmoving.
Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.
The white king removed his crown and threw it at Harry's feet.
They had won.
The chessmen parted and bowed, clearing the way to the door. Harry and Hermione rushed forward, but Hope hesitated, glancing back at Ron.
"What if he's—?" she began.
"He'll be all right," Harry said, more to convince himself than her. "Come on. Who knows what's next?"
"We've had Sprout's," Hermione mused. "That was the Devil's Snare. Flitwick must've put charms on the keys—"
"But there were brooms, so Madam Hooch as well," Hope added.
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them come alive. That leaves Quirrell's spell... possibly Flitwick again, and Snape's..."
They reached another door.
"All right?" Harry whispered. "Go on," he urged as he pushed it open.
The trio stepped into the room, the air heavy with tension. As they moved, the sounds of their footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent space. Hope felt a chill crawl up her spine as the door behind them shut with a soft thud, leaving them in total darkness.
Hermione quickly raised her wand. "Lumos," she whispered, and the tip of her wand flickered to life, casting a faint glow across the room. Harry and Hope followed suit, their wands now glowing as well.
They looked around, but all they could see were the cold, stone walls stretching around them. There was no door, no window, and no visible escape.
"There's no door," Hermione murmured, her voice small and uncertain as the light from her wand barely revealed the expanse of the room.
Hope frowned, her brow furrowed. "There's nothing here. Just... stone. How are we supposed to—"
Suddenly, Harry took a cautious step forward. "Maybe there's—"
CRACK!
A sudden flash of light and a bolt of magic shot past Harry's head, narrowly missing him. Everyone froze, eyes wide.
"Harry!" Hermione cried out, dropping to a crouch and pulling Hope down with her.
"Stay down!" Harry barked, instinctively ducking lower to the ground. His voice was sharp, and there was a look of focused concentration on his face.
Hope's heart was pounding in her chest. "Where did that come from?" Hope's voice was frantic, barely a whisper, as they remained motionless on the cold stone floor.
Harry's eyes darted across the room, searching for any sign of a threat. "I don't know, but we need to stay still. If there's something or someone here... they're trying to trap us."
Hermione swept her wand in a wide arc, but nothing appeared, just the stone walls. "Maybe... it's invisible? Or there's something hidden?" She mused.
Hidden of course! Hope's eyes widened. A Concealment Charm... The thought hit her like a jolt. She remembered practicing it all year for her prank on Snape—which she was especially thankful for now.
"That's it," Hope muttered, almost to herself, but it was loud enough for Harry and Hermione to hear. She quickly adjusted her grip on her wand and whispered, "Aparecium."
The soft shimmer of magic rippled through the air.
"There it is," Hermione said, her voice tinged with awe as she pointed toward a section of the wall at the far end of the room. "There's a door over there!"
Hope nodded, squinting toward the farthest edge of the room to see a door had revealed itself, waiting for them. But that wasn't all, the floor was covered in tiles, but some of them were subtly darker than the others, barely distinguishable from the rest.
Harry sighed in relief. "I didn't think I could be happier than I already was about the prank you pulled on Snape," he said with a grin.
"Focus, Harry," Hermione said, her voice sharp. "Look closely—some of the tiles are different."
Hope bent down, staring hard at the floor. The difference was incredibly slight, almost imperceptible under the light of their wands. The darker tiles were just faintly more pronounced.
"That's it," Hope said, realization dawning. "I bet certain stones trigger magic blasts if we step on them."
Hermione nodded, her eyes flickering between the dark and light tiles. "It's the only explanation. We just have to be careful."
Harry looked down at his feet. He was standing on a slightly lighter tile, just like Hope and Hermione. The darker ones must be the safe ones, then.
"Alright, we can do this," Harry said, his voice steady, even though her heart was racing. "We just need to follow the pattern."
With that, the trio began to move, each of them carefully stepping on the darker tiles, making their way toward the door at the far end of the room. It was slow, painstaking work, their every step measured, knowing that one wrong move could set off a trap.
But then, CRACK!
Harry's foot slammed down onto a lighter tile. The moment his foot made contact, a Stun spell shot out in his direction.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted, her voice filled with panic.
Without thinking, Hope reacted, instinctively shoving Harry out of the way. She felt a sharp surge of pressure against her chest as the spell hit her squarely. The world around her seemed to freeze for a moment, and then, the darkness crept in.
"Hope!" Harry and Hermione both yelled in unison, but it was too late. Hope's legs buckled beneath her, and the world went black.