Keep on keeping on

The room was just as Harry remembered it; dark and full of cobwebs with an impending sense of doom that suffocated all who entered. Harry took a shaky breath as he walked across the floor, but he felt comforted by the two friends that stood by his side.

“The dog’s over there.” He whispered, nodding his head towards the locked door. Hermione took in a sharp intake of breath and forged ahead.

The trio reached the door and Hermione muttered an ‘alohamora’. The door swung open and the smell that floated from the room made Harry recoil and gag.

“What is that!” Draco coughed, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

“I-I think that is the d-dog.” Harry murmured. He was right. Crumpled in the corner was a huge mound of decaying fur. Glistening blood pooled under the body that caught the candlelight that flicked in the sconces on the wall.

“You didn’t say it was dead the last time you saw it, Harry.” Hermione whispered, warily. She eyed Harry cautiously.

“That’s because it wasn’t. Quirrell did this.” Harry bit, disgusted at the length the professor would go to. “Come on. At least we don’t have to get past it now.”

Harry crouched down beside the wooden trapdoor that was cut into the floor. He pulled it open, wincing at the echoing creek that it emitted. Now that it was open, Harry peered downwards and raised his eyebrows at the dark tunnel that lay before him.

“G-Guess we have to jump.” Harry said cautiously, turning back to look at the shocked faces of his friend.

“No way!” Draco scoffed. “We could break our necks and I don’t fancy dying today, thanks.”

“Quirrell j-jumped and he m-must have survived. I-I’m sure there i-is something down there that c-catches us.” Harry said, trying to be the voice of reason. Getting the sense that neither Hermione nor Draco believed him, Harry took one for the team and jumped into the darkness.

The wind whistled in his ears and the coldness only grew as Harry plummeted further and further below the school. After what seemed like an age, Harry landed on something bouncy with a soft grunt.

“It’s okay! Follow me d-down!” The boy called upwards. Before he knew it, two more bodies landed beside him. The three friends looked at each other for a second before they all started laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Harry’s side was hurting from how much he was laughing but then the pain intensified, and his laugh died in his throat. The pain was like something was squeezing him. He groaned in pain and Hermione and Draco fell silent.

“Harry?” Hermione began but then she let out the same gasp of pain. Harry looked around frantically as panic rose inside him. He didn’t want to feel trapped. He didn’t like to be trapped. His breathing increased and the sound of buzzing in his ears overwhelmed him. He couldn’t hear anything. He looked around and Hermione and Draco were gone, and Harry was all alone.

“M-Mione? D-Draco!” Harry cried, fear cracking his voice. He tried to calm himself, taking deep breaths as the pain now radiated around his chest as something squeezed him again. Looking down, Harry saw that a thick, green, scaly tendril had wrapped itself around him. Hary let out a cry of panic but his hearing returned and he could hear Hermione’s voice.

“Just relax, Harry. It’s devil’s snare. Just relax and it will let you go.” But Harry couldn’t relax. He was dying. He knew it. It was just like when Uncle Vernon’s hand was around his neck, pushing tighter and tighter. After 5 minutes, but it felt like hours to Harry, a burst of bright white light sped up through the devil’s snare. Harry watched the plant shrink away and let out an ear splitting shriek. Harry felt the pressure abate and he breathed a sigh of relief before feeling his stomach drop away and Harry tumbled to the floor beneath him.

“Alright there, Potter?” Draco laughed, offering his hand out to Harry who was sprawled on the floor. Harry scrambled to his feet, unassisted and embarrassed, and nodded. He walked away from his friends, his face blushing, and towards the next door.

Even from behind the door, Harry could hear a soft fluttering. He carefully pushed the door open and walked inside. The room was tall, with high ceilings and flying around above their heads were a thousand tiny little birds, their wings shimmering.

“Are? Are they birds?” Hermione asked curiously.

“I-I think so…” Harry replied, slowly. Draco was eyeing the birds. Harry ran over to the door on the other side of the room and pushed with all his might, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s locked.” Harry announced, defeatedly.

“They… They aren’t birds.” Draco whispered. Harry cocked his head in confusion. “They’re keys! And that’s the one we need!” Draco’s eyes widened in excitement as he pointed to an old, rusted key that was limply flying around. The Slytherin pointed to a broom in the corner. “Care to do the honours Harry?” Harry nodded eagerly and gripped the broom tightly. Immediately, the keys began flying faster and the trio lost track of the key they needed. Harry kicked off hard from the ground and felt the air rip through his hair as he sped higher and higher towards the cavernous ceilings. At first, Harry thought that it was an impossible task. Every key looked the same at the speed at which they were flying, and Harry couldn’t pick out the one they needed. Pausing for a second, Harry took a deep breath. It was time to look at this from another angle. This was just a game of quidditch, and the snitch was the key they needed.

After just a few minutes, Harry’s fist closed around the winning key. His face flashed in triumph as he floated gracefully back to the ground. Draco clapped him on the shoulder.

“You’re not the youngest seeker in a century for nothing then, I guess. Well done.” Harry gracelessly shoved the key into the door and walked through to the next room.

At first, everything was dark. The room smelt damp and old, like a cave that had been untouched for many years. But then, a fire ignited in the corner of the room and the flames spread, lighting up the entire chamber. In each corner, was a stone statue. A tall, magnificent soldier in full, solid armour.

“What’s this meant to be then?” Draco asked, waving his hand dismissively, “Do they also want to kill us?” At his words, there was a load grinding sound, and the soldiers began to move, advancing on the trio.

“Uhm…Yes. I-I guess so.” Harry shrugged, “Okay, f-four of them and three of u-us. I-I say we focus o-on them one at a time.” The friends formed a triangle, standing back to back with their wands raised.

“Bombarda!” Hermione yelled, a jet of red light bursting from the end of her wand. The soldier stumbled, its arm crumbling to the ground in a pile of dust.

“That’ll do it.” Draco cried. Soon, the room was filled with red light as each one of them aimed their wands at the soldiers. One by one, the soldiers crumbled until only one remained. Up close, it was clear this this one was the biggest, meanest and ugliest. Its head was covered in a black stone helmet, spikes protruding from the top. In its giant hand was a heavy sword. The enemy raised its arm, the weight making its movements slow. Harry was growing exhausted, and Hermione was nursing a heavily bleeding cut on her forehead, blood dripping into her eyes. Draco saw this and raised his wand, trying to protect his friends. He wasn’t sure when he actually realised that they were now his friends – but there’s no going back now.

“Bombarda Maxima!” Draco’s voice echoed off the stone walls and Harry watched as the spell hit the soldier square in the chest. The stone exploded, shards flying in all directions. Harry covered his head and crouched down, pulling Hermione down with him. Draco wasn’t so lucky. He had watched in shock as his spell found it’s intended target. Harry’s stomach turned in horror when he saw a large chunk of rock fly from the explosion and hit Draco square in the head. The blonde-haired boy sunk like a stone, blood soaking his white locks, turning it to a gut wrenching red colour.

“DRACO!” Harry cried, scrambling up from his crouched position and running to his friend. The shaking boy cradled the Slytherin’s head in his hands, tears dripping down his face. Hermione crawled over. She reached her hand out and pressed it to Draco’s neck. She waited a moment, the silence deafening, before letting out a sigh of relief.

“He’s alive.” She sobbed. The friends sat there for a few moments as they allowed the adrenaline to flood their system and the silence encompass them.

“T-This is p-pretty shitty. I-I’m sorry. This i-is all m-my fault.” Harry murmured. He felt so guilty. He’d dragged his friends into this and now Draco was unconscious and bleeding.

“Harry. It is not your fault.” Hermione said sternly, resting her hand on Harry’s arm. “We agreed to this. Draco is fine. I don’t know how to get word to the teachers, but he needs to get out of here and I’m not leaving you alone. We’re in this together.”

“No. N-No. T-Take Draco. Leave. G-Get him help. I-I’ll finish this.” Harry nodded his head determinedly. He was not about to drag Hermione into more danger. Hermione began to protest but Harry silenced her.

“N-No. Go. I-I’ll be okay.” Harry stood up and walked away, not looking back because he was too afraid that he’d change his mind.

Harry’s heart was beating in his chest, and his blood was rushing loudly in his ears. He walked through the next chamber, wrinkling his nose once again as a horrendous smell assaulted him. He was alone now, and his footsteps echoed loudly. In the corner of this room, and the source of the smell, was the body of a troll.

“At least I don’t have to do that again.” Harry whispered to himself. He stepped around the body and went through to the final room.

This chamber was even bigger than the last, it’s ceilings higher than the key rooms. Rows of fire lined the walls and stood in the centre was the mysterious mirror that Dumbledore had warned him off. What was unsurprising though, was the figure of his defence professor, standing before the mirror. Harry’s heartbeat even faster. He could feel a panic attack creeping in, but he pushed it down, knowing that this was not the time to break down. Now was the time to be brave.

Before he could say anything, or even cast a spell, Quirrell’s voice flooded the room.

“Harry Potter. I knew you’d come.” All traces of a stutter was gone and was replaced by pure, evil confidence. “Approach and tell me what you see.”

“No t-thanks. I’m g-good here.” Harry stammered, trying to sound confident. He hated the stutter and longed for it to go, just like Quirrell’s had.

“It was not a request, Potter. Come.” Quirrell’s wand waved in a flash and Harry felt invisible hands grasp him around the shoulders and he felt his feet leave the ground, dragging him towards the mirror. Harry tried to fight it but he couldn’t. Soon, he found himself in front of the mirror and Harry blinked in surprise. He stared intently at his reflection.

“What do you see!” Quirrell bellowed, spit flying from his mouth, his entire body shaking with rage. Harry watched as the reflection rippled. He expected to see his parents again but instead, Harry still saw himself. Only this Harry seemed much more confident. His shoulders were set, a smirk graced his lips. Harry watched as mirror-Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a glistening red rock that caught the firelight. Harry gasped as he felt an unfamiliar weight drop into his pocket.

“WHAT DO YOU SEE!” Quirrell shouted again. Harry flinched at the raised voice. He felt a shiver of magic wash over him and a voice in his head telling him to lie.

“I-I see my parents.” He said, confidence growing.

“The boy lies… Let me see him!” A disembodied voice bounced off the walls, making Harry’s skin crawl.

“No, M-Master. You are n-not strong enough.” Quirrell’s voice wavered.

“You do not command me. Let me see the boy.” Quirrell nodded fearfully and reached his hands up to his head and began unwrapping the cloth that was wound around his head. Harry stepped away from the professor fearfully, his feet carrying him back to the steps at the entrance to the room. Harry’s eye’s widened as Quirrell turned around and Harry saw what he had been hiding.

Growing on the back of his professor’s head was a grotesque, misshapen face. Its eyes were snakelike slits, red and fiery. There was no nose, just two, black holes and its mouth was stretched into a thin, pale line, cracked and peeling.

“Do you know who I am, Potter?” The voice grated at Harry’s head, scratching his brain in all the wrong places. Harry recoiled at the intrusion and venom that laced the voice

“Can’t say I-I’ve ever had the pleasure.” Harry responded sweetly, trying to feign confidence and arrogance. The face contorted into a gruesome form of laughter.

“I’m Lord Voldemort. I killed you mudblood mother and traitorous father. And you have something I want.”

“R-Really. You? A bodiless, n-noseless freak of a man managed to k-kill two grown wixen? I-I find that h-hard to believe. Also, I-I don’t know what you want s-so I can’t have it, can I?” Harry taunted. He was not about to show fear.

“I am the greatest wizard that ever lived. Now give me the stone!” Voldemort roared and Quirrell flew towards him. Harry stumbled backwards, tripping over the stairs behind him and feeling his head hit the stone. The next thing he knew, Quirrell’s hands were on Harry, grasping at his neck. Harry couldn’t breathe. Quirrell’s face morphed into Uncle Vernon’s and then into Voldemort’s. Harry felt panic taking over and he grasped for his wand that had fallen from his hand when he fell. When he realised, he couldn’t get it, Harry pushed with his all his might and Quirrell fell off him with a grunt of pain. Harry could feel the bruised forming on his neck and could feel the blood trickling down his neck from the cut on the back of his head. But now, with the lack of pressure, Harry took a deep breath and felt the panic slow. He stood up clumsily and pulled the stone from his pocket.

“Is this what you want? Well come and get it!” Harry taunted. Quirrell flew at him again and Harry fell to ground once more. The professor and the student were a tangle of limbs on the floor. Harry threw his hand out again to try and push his professor off him. When Harry felt his hand connect with the man’s face, a blinding pain seared at his head. Harry gasped, his free hand flying to his face. The stone flew from his hand and Harry panicked. He couldn’t let Voldemort get the stone. But when Harry opened his eyes again, Quirrell was stood a few feet away from him, screaming. The man had his hand held up in front of him and before Harry’s eyes, Quirrell’s hand was crumbling to dust. Then, in a gasp of pain, the rest of Quirrell crumbled as well and all that was left was a pile of dust. Harry gasped and collapsed to the floor, his breath coming in thick and fast. Harry couldn’t stop. He couldn’t control it. And then… everything went black.