Initus

Initus

(noun. an approach, arrival, or advent.)

A Harry Potter & Percy Jackson Crossover

Part 4 of the Amalgamation Series

by Tannin & Tele

Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters.

. . .

Warnings: Chapter includes descriptions of violence, mentioned child abuse, child neglect and mild language.

The opinions expressed by characters may not reflect that of the author's.

. . .

Author's Note:Due to the inevitable stress of school, updates may not be as common - perhaps once a week - but rest assured, the story willcontinue. Please enjoy this recent installment to Initus, Part 4 of the Amalgamation Series!

Chapter Six

. . .

Late May thru June 4th, 1992

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment.

Yet the days crept by, and as Harry walked past the third-floor corridor each morning, he could tell by the growls that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. Unfortunately, as May ended and June approached, Harry no longer had time to investigate the Philosopher's Stone further.

The weather had changed drastically and the castle became sweltering hot, especially in the crowded classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell. They had practical exams as well, animating pineapples and turning mice into snuffboxes. Ron had been practicing the transfiguration for days on Scabbers, whose toenails were now permanently a dull shade of silver.

Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. Harry did rather well, much to his relief, despite spending the entire week ignoring the stabbing pains in his forehead.

Harry still wasn't sleeping well, spending most of his nights curled in bed next to Draco, trying not to cry. His dreams were an amalgamation of the Potter's deaths, the Forbidden Forest and various scenes of blood, shadowy creatures and mysterious artifacts. Ron and Hermione were the first people he'd told about Voldemort in the forest, but even with Draco's confirmation of the facts, they still found the idea hard to believe.

Harry didn't blame them.

As he tried to ignore his swirling thoughts, the four students spent Thursday focused entirely on the exam for History of Magic, a class Harry was only barely passing.

After one hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and obscure goblin wars, the Slytherins were almost as raucous with their relief as the Gryffindors. "I'm so glad that's over," Draco exhaled as the first-years flocked out onto the sunny grounds. "Even without Binns droning on, I just about fell asleep. How many times can they ask 'describe this event in one or more inches' before it gets boring?"

"I wish they'd asked more on the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager; I didn't even get to psycho-analyze Elfric's reasonings for killing the wife of Heinrich the Hardfisted," Hermione pouted, she and Ron catching up to them.

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so the four of them wandered down to the lake and collapsed under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. Lee glanced over at them, quickly averting his gaze as Draco glowered warningly. The blonde inched closer to Harry, who was leaning tiredly against the tree trunk.

Blissfully oblivious, Ron laid out on the grass, shutting his eyes. "No more studying," he stretched, opening one eye to see Harry rubbing at his forehead. "You know, you could look more cheerful, Harry. We've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."

"That's not what I'm worried about," he muttered. "My scar is burning. I thought it'd get better once the exams were done - but if anything, it's gotten worse. What on Earth does it mean?"

"Go visit Madam Pomfrey," the redhead shrugged, not seeming terribly concerned.

"I'm not ill," Harry frowned. "I think it's a warning."

"Listen," Hermione insisted, tying her hair into a loose braid. "Everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you."

"You-Know-Who?" Harry scowled. "No, I don't know who. Use the proper name, will you? That moniker is ridiculous."

"Come on, Harry, relax," the Gryffindor stared up at the clouds, arms tucked behind his head. "Hermione's right, the Stone's safe while Dumbledore's around. I doubt anyone could get past Fluffy, anyways. 'Cept Hagrid, I suppose,"

Harry nodded absentmindedly, but he couldn't shake the lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth.

Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. But Hagrid - Harry suddenly jumped to his feet, eyes wide with realization.

"Where're you going?" Ron asked sleepily.

Harry grabbed his bag, smacking his hand against a tree. "Why didn't I think of it before? Merlin, I'm stupid!" he said in frustration.

Draco smirked, although his eyes betrayed concern. "Finally, you agree."

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," Harry ignored Draco, instead stalking down the grassy slope to the Groundskeeper's hut. "That what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up, just happening to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs, especially if it's against wizard law? Awfully coincidental that they found Hagrid."

"What are you talking about?" Ron exclaimed, scrambling to keep up.

Hermione, who was quick to follow Harry's line of thinking, frowned in thought. "Awfully coincidental, I agree - but perhaps that's all it is. A coincidence"

"Perhaps," Draco sighed, sidling beside the brunette. "But when is anything concerning Harry merely coincidental?"

. . .

"It's happening, today, I just know it!" Harry hissed, violently brushing a hand through his hair. "With Dumbledore gone, Voldemort or whoever is bound to take advantage."

Ron protested, looking winded from their trek up from the grounds up into the castle. "He's not going to strike in the daylight!" 

"He's not a fucking vampire, you dumbarse," Draco snapped "He's a Dark Lord, and courtesy doesn't exactly apply to him, does it? He'll strike whenever he damn pleases, and we need to be ready when he does," he slammed a fist into his palm.

"But what can we do? We're just children!" Hermione interjected weakly, before jerking slightly in surprise.

They wheeled round, startled to see Snape towering above them. "Good afternoon," he said silkily, arching a dark eyebrow at the four children. "You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"Professor . . . " Harry began, glancing desperately at Draco.

The blonde bolstered himself, stepping forward to face his godfather. "Uncle, we need to tell you something," he said with conviction. "It's about the Philosopher's - "

Snape's face morphed into an an intense glower. Glancing about the corridor, he grabbed Draco's shoulder harshly, pulling him towards an abandoned classroom. "Only Potter may follow!" he shouted. The others scowled while Harry caught up quickly, heart leaping in anticipation.

The professor shut the door behind them, twitching his wand in a complicated movement. The sounds outside suddenly became muffled, and Harry's ears began to ring. He rubbed them idly, and the sensation disappeared. 

"You ought to be more careful," Snape warned, tucking away his wand. "For two supposed Slytherins, you are certainly fond of acting like moronic Gryffindors," Harry had a feeling Hermione would be highly insulted by that comment. "I've told you before, boys, whatever preconceived notions you may currently harbor regarding the forbidden third corridor - "

"But Severus, they aren't merely notions anymore!" Draco protested, pacing back and forth. "We know that Nicholas Flamel asked Dumbledore to watch the Philosopher's Stone, and we think someone's planning on stealing it - tonight. With Dumbledore gone . . ."

"With Dumbledore gone, the remaining teachers are surely capable of protecting what lies in the corridor," Snape said stiffly. "Precautions have been made, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, and children such as yourselves should not be sticking your noses in places they don't belong. Especially in the headmaster's business."

"Severus," Draco deadpanned, crossing his arms. "You were the one to circle Flamel's name in that book of yours, if you didn't want me to see it - "

"Draco," the professor mocked, expression hardening. "We both know that you would've kept pestering and pushing unless I gave a little. Better you learn from me than an . . . undesirable resource. I had hoped once your curiosity was quelled, you would be satisfied; clearly I was incorrect with that impression, but I will be frank with my intentions now," Severus suddenly leaned over them, his dark presence causing the boys to lean back.

"Under no circumstances will you boys or your Gryffindor 'friends'," he punctuated, sneering slightly. "Attempt to pursue this supposed 'thief' of yours or any other business regarding the forbidden third floor corridor on the right-hand side," Severus paused. "Or else."

Draco and Harry didn't bother asking Severus to clarify; their imaginations did work enough for them. As they fled the room back to Weasley and Granger, Severus sighed heavily, pinching his nose to fend off an oncoming migraine.

Stolen tonight, eh? Severus thought, straightening his spine. We'll see about that.

Meanwhile, the four students were stalking back to Gryffindor tower, Harry yanking on his hair anxiously.

"Harry, perhaps Professor Snape is right. It's awfully dangerous, and we are - "

"Granger, I swear to Merlin, if you say 'we're just children' again, I will hex you," Draco scowled darkly.

Hermione crossed her arms. "But it's true! Perhaps we could try McGonagall again . . . "

"We tried warning them, Hermione," Harry spoke for the first time in several minutes, fists clenching. "I learned a long time ago not to trust adults for anything important, and it seemed I was right. If neither the Deputy Headmistress or Snape are going to do anything about it, we'll just have too."

"Right!" Draco broke in. "I know we promised Severus, but it's better to ask for forgiveness than beg for permission."

Harry agreed, looking grim. "We're the only ones that can do this. Voldemort killed my parents, and I'm not going to let live him any longer to kill anyone else."

Draco and Ron nodded determinedly as Hermione opened the Fat Lady's portrait. They crossed into the common room, finding it empty as the other students down by the lake. Sitting primly on the couch, Hermione pressed her lips in deep consideration.

The others watched her warily, even the dullest of them realizing that without Hermione, they'd be doomed. "Oh, fine," she sighed finally, earning a round of relieved smiles. "But if we're going to do this, we're going to do it smart,"she slapped her palm to the armrest, daring the others to argue. Draco stared at her with faint respect.

"Well, of course we'll do it smart," he agreed complacently. "After all, despite what Uncle Sev claimed, Harry and I are Slytherins."

Hermione smirked "And with two Gryffindors on your side," she paused, sucking in a breath. "V - Voldemort will never see us coming."

Ron and Draco winced, while Harry's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Exactly. Now, any thoughts how we're actually going to pull it off?"

. . .

Dinner was a subdued affair, Draco and Harry muttering softly between themselves.

Meanwhile at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was sitting straight-backed and forcibly nonchalant in her seat; beside her, Ron was completely unsubtle about his excitement, tapping a salad fork incessantly against his plate.

Draco could tell his Uncle was suspicious, but he doubted the man would act on it. Draco had told Harry to avoid Severus' gaze but he neglected to mention his Uncle's skills to the two Gryffindors. It wouldn't do to have knowledge like that spreading about.

Although he was a highly skilled Legilimens, Severus didn't make a habit of searching through half-witted Gryffindor brains for fool-hardy plots - he'd have headaches constantly. Instead, Severus chose to intimidate them from afar, his dark glare never wavering, causing Ron and Hermione to squirm slightly in their seats.

The man lifted a goblet to his lips and took a sip, the wine leaving a crimson-colored stain on pale lips. Near dessert, Severus' eyes had already began to flutter in exhaustion, the potion's master lifting a hand to hide a wide yawn.

Draco internally thanked Merlin for his personal house-elf, Dobby, who was always excited for a bit of mischief. Sneaking a bit of Severus' own sleep-inducing potion into his nightly tonic was simple for Dobby, who had quickly infiltrated the kitchens and left without any fuss.

Thankfully, the affects weren't strong enough for the wizard to notice immediately. However, they were enough to scramble his thoughts, therefore disallowing Severus from recognizing he was poisoned. The Malfoy heir smirked at his plate as the professor excused himself, giving one last half-hearted glare to the two snakes. The blonde held out a hand beneath the table. Harry slapped it lightly, rolling his eyes.

Of course, Hermione and Ron probably wouldn't have approved of their actions, but after the four friends had separated to prepare for dinner, the two Slytherins decided their nightly excursion would be easier without worrying about Severus' prowling and suspicions.

The meal soon finished, the Slytherins gliding down to the dungeons. Draco and Harry waited on a couch in the common room for several hours, Harry's head situated in his best friend's lap. Draco absentmindedly ran his fingers through Harry's hair, both of them silently going over the plan again.

"I know I said that we had to do this, but I'm scared, Draco," Harry said softly.

Draco glanced around at the remaining students, satisfied that their attentions were elsewhere. "I'm scared, too," the blonde confided after a moment. He glanced down at his friend, silver eyes intensely bright. "I . . . " he worried his lower lip. "I've never told you this - implied it, maybe - but I've never . . . " Draco faltered, and Harry pulled himself upwards. "It's not something I'd usually advertise, but my father - he used to be one of You-Know-Who's right-hand men," he said quickly.

Harry's eyes widened, and Draco was swift to explain. "Father was pressured into it by Grandfather, you see, who had fallen ill during the end of First Wizarding War and couldn't fight himself." Harry looked confused, brows furrowing.

"Why - ?" 

"It was a common thing for strong, pureblood families to support either the Light or Dark Lord of the century," the boy elaborated. "A tradition, unfortunately, that my grandfather wished to continue. Grandfather always told us that the Dark Lord was a powerful, intoxicating presence in the early years. The Dark Lord was very popular with the purebloods, preaching their supremacy and whatnot, which was reason enough for many old families to give their support.

"Dark Magic was a force to reckon with in those years, a common practice of many families, but the Ministry was trying to restrict it. You-Know-Who wanted to reinstate it, and prove to the naysayers that 'there is no good or evil, only power,'" Draco quoted, grimly admiring. "He wanted equal rights for all magical creatures, werewolf and wizard alike . . . but eventually, his views became skewed. His attempt at fixing the government became a reign of terror, and Father was caught right in the middle of it. He'd just married mother and, with myself on the way, he couldn't turn traitor less You-Know-Who reaped our lives as payment,"

Harry tentatively reached for Draco's hand, which had begun shaking.

"That's okay, you don't need to tell me anymore," he said in understanding. Draco shook his head, expression pained.

"No, I do. I want to show that, despite my family's past with him, I'm sticking by your side. You-Know-Who has pulled a lot of shite, nearly destroying my family with his oppression, but I'm not going to let that happen any longer," Draco said determinedly, clenching Harry's hand tightly. "I'm the sole heir of the Malfoy family, and I swear to you, this generation is going to do better. 

"I've already found the strong wizard I support, and it's you, Harry - the defeater of the Dark Lord, a muggle-raised, horribly fashioned, lion-hearted, foolishly kind but amazingly wonderful best friend that deserves so much better than me," his voice cracked, and before Harry could protest, Draco shushed him. "It's true. You deserve better than anything this world offers, and if I can help lessen that pain by fighting by your side, I will.

"I will, and nothing you can do or say will change that." Harry blinked at Draco, tears coming to his eyes. "Merlin, I'm horrible," Draco sighed, lips quirking slightly. "Look at that, I've made you cry," he wiped at Harry's tears with his thumb, earning a grateful smile in return.

"Horribly amazing," Harry disputed, shaking his head and leaning into Draco's embrace. "Draco, truly . . . if anything, I don't deserve you," he muttered into the blonde's shoulder, tears soaking into the designer sweater. Draco shrugged lightly, unable to respond as he, himself, was becoming a bit choked up. Harry settled back into Draco's lap, sighing in content as pale, nimble fingers threaded through his wavy, tar-black hair.

The ministrations almost caused the brunette to fall asleep, but when the curfew alarm rang, Draco pinched him awake.

"Got the Cloak?" he asked. Harry nodded tiredly, pulling the silvery material from Dudley's deep trouser pockets.

The brunette reached up and tossed it over their heads, fingers brushing Draco's white-blonde hair. "I also grabbed Hagrid's flute," he whispered as they tip-toed past the stone wall. "Unless you're up to singing?" Draco snorted, slipping his fingers into Harry's as they huddled together beneath the Cloak.

The blonde, slightly taller than Harry, had to hunch so their shoes didn't peak out. Surprisingly, he didn't even complain; perhaps he sensed the sudden disquietude of his friend's thoughts, the Boy-Who-Lived glancing around anxiously as they crept upstairs.

"Are you sure you want to go up against Voldemort?" Harry asked suddenly, coming to a halt as a staircase suddenly moved. Portraits snored loudly, concealing his words from any potential passerbys. "I mean, after all he's done to your family - "

Draco looked down at Harry, his pale face cast in a dark, silvery light. "That's exactly why I'm going against him," he said darkly. "Like I told you, I'm not letting this shite continue. I may be young, but I'm not an idiot. If the Dark Lord is returning, whether we want to or not, my family is only going to be yanked back into the war - I can't let that happen again. Besides, I could never betray you like that," the boy finished sternly, clutching at Harry's hand.

"Now, what's the Fat Lady's password again?"

A few moments later, the portrait swung open, the Fat Lady scowling disagreeably at being awoken at such an hour. Ron and Hermione popped up from their position before the fire, both dressed in simple, uncomplicated outfits. Hermione smoothed her skirt, letting out a long breath.

"Took you two long enough," she said tersely, the sting lessened by her obvious anxiety. "Shall we?"

. . .

"Music hath charms to sooth a savage beast," Hermione said idly, watching as Harry played a soft tune on his owl-flute. The Cerberus was obviously wary of him, growling beneath it's breath. Eventually, fatigue won the beast over and Fluffy fell to his knees, all six eyes fluttering shut.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the Cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. He could feel the dog's hot, rancid breath as they approached his feet. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," Ron mused, peering over the dog's back. He bent down and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, the hinges creaking. They could see nothing within but darkness. "Want to go first, Malfoy?" Ron suggested, eyes hopeful.

"Not a chance, Weasel," the Slytherin said dryly, before placing his hand on Ron's back. "But by all means, ladies first," Draco pushed, and Ron fell in with a sharp yelp.

Hermione made a disapproving sound. "We don't even know what's down there. You could have just sent him to his death," she pointed out, veering around Fluffy's slumped body. Harry kept playing, his cheeks flushing red with exertion.

Draco sniffed. "Doubtful, but I'll indulge you. Still alive, then, Weasley?" he called down.

After a pause, a response came, slightly strained. "I'm okay! It's a soft landing, just, um - not very comfortable. Kind of thorny."

Harry's eyebrow arched, and he gestured for Hermione to take the flute. "I'll go next," Harry said breathlessly, sounding winded.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "We'll go together," he decided. "What kind of friend would I be if you got hurt?"

"A terrible one, Malfoy! You're absolutely terrible!" Ron shouted from the trapdoor.

The blonde looked smug. "Terribly amazing, right, Harry?" he offered a hand. Harry took it, rolling his eyes.

"I believe I said you were 'horribly amazing', which could alternatively be construed as 'amazingly horrible'. Which also applies to you."

Draco smirked. "Thank you, Harry. And just for that, jump!" the boy jolted down, dragging Harry with him. Later, Draco would loudly proclaim to the entire Slytherin common room that the Boy-Who-Lived screamed like a little girl, and he wasn't wrong.

The two landed with an 'oomph!' on something distinctly plant-like. The thick roots twisted and writhed beneath them, dull thorns occasionally scraping against their tangled limbs. "Come on down, Granger!" Draco called up to her, shifting slightly.

The music stopped abruptly and the dim light from the trapdoor was blocked by a small figure. Hermione took a deep breath and jumped, Fluffy barking in agitation behind her. As soon as she landed beside Harry, the trapdoor slammed shut.

"We must be miles under the school," Hermione said breathlessly, hair disheveled from the fall.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," Ron said, patting the roots gratefully.

"Lucky?!" Hermione suddenly shrieked, brown eyes growing wide as her vision adjusted to the darkness. "This is Devil's Snare!" At her words, the vines began to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for the other's, their legs had already been bound in long creepers without their noticing.

Panic ensued, a slimy root slipping up to wrap about Ron's long neck. "How do we get out!" Draco screamed, fighting to free himself. Ron was blubbering incoherently, his face turning red.

"Don't move!" Harry warned, remembering a lesson in Herbology. The long tendrils found place in his hair, wrapping about his skull like a thorny crown. "The more we struggle, the worse it gets!"

"Oh, but I can't remember how to kill it!" Hermione wailed, reaching frantically for the wall. "Devil's snare, devil's snare . . . what did Professor Sprout say? It likes the dark and the damp - "

"So light a fire!" Harry exclaimed, a sheen of sweat dripping down his face.

"Yes - of course!" Hermione twisted her body, reaching past the Snare to reach her pocket. Whipping out her wand, she cried out: "Lumos Solem!"

A beam of light encased the plant, which cringed away, sizzling slightly. Ron let out a relieved breath as his throat was released. Standing shakily, Harry stumbled towards the far door, the four others following him.

"Good thing you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," Harry told her, yanking a stubborn thorn from his arm.

Hermione nodded silently, the adrenaline steadily waning off.

"This way," Draco told them, pointing down a stone passageway. All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, the stone floor becoming craggy.

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered. Harry's brows furrowed as he heard a soft rustling and the clinking of metal.

"Sounds like wings to me. Snitches, do you think?" Draco commented, curious. "There's light ahead - I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. "They're so pretty!" Hermione breathed watching as silver light danced across the ceiling.

On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door. "Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" Ron asked nervously.

Harry pressed his lips together. "They seem non-violent, but so did the Snare at first. I suppose if they all swooped down at once . . . well, there's really no other choice. I'll run." Before his friends could protest, he took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened.

Harry reached the door untouched, and letting out a relieved noise, he pulled the handle, but it was locked The others followed him, each taking a shot at the door. "Now what?" Ron asked, put out.

"These birds -

"Look like snitches, to me." Draco muttered.

"Can't be here just for decoration," Hermione continued thoughtfully, looking up at the glittering creatures, and Harry gasped.

"They're not birds or snitches! They're keys! Winged keys - look carefully." The Slytherins surveyed the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys.

"Look, Harry!" Draco pointed excitedly. "Broomsticks! We must have to catch the key to the door, like real Seekers!"

"But there are hundreds of them!" Ron groused, before examining the lock on the door. "I think we're looking for a big, old-fashioned one. Probably silver, like the handle."

Watching the keys carefully, they each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys.

The bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one, but Harry was faster. Twisting through the throng of metal and crystal-like wings, Harry spotted something silver flash. "That one!" he called to the others. "That big one, there - no, there - with bright blue wings crumpled on one side."

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing and promptly crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom. Draco laughed quietly, unaware that his flaxen hair was in extreme disarray. Hermione was looking particularly uncomfortable on her broom, adjusting her skirt every few minutes.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called out, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above; Hermione and Draco, you stay below. I'll try and catch it. Ready? Now!"

They all rocketed toward it, Draco coming within inches of capture - however, the key was a wily little bugger. The blonde swore vehemently as it veered downward, and Harry streaked after it, following it toward the wall. Leaning forward, the brunette surged forward and pinned it against the stone with one hand. The key struggled weakly in his hands, the wings crumbled and ripped.

Harry was sympathetic, but not terribly.

Landing swiftly, he handed it to Draco who sadistically tore off it's wings and rammed it into the lock. "It works," Ron said unnecessarily, looking relieved as they pushed open the door. The next chamber was bathed in darkness, but as Harry stepped forward, light filled his vision.

"Goodness," Hermione squeaked, startled by the intricately carved statue standing only feet away. They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard behind the black chessmen, who towered impressively over the board. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Ron and Hermione shivered slightly, as the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"It can't be this easy," Draco whispered, walking towards the opposite door. As he made to sidle past the row of pawns, from beneath their arms, long, gilded swords appeared, blocking their way. Draco stumbled back, yelping. The swords disappeared with a metallic clang.

"Now what do we do?" Hermione asked meekly. Ron stepped forward, looking around the corridor.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" he said, blue eyes fierce. "We've got to play our way across the room."

"How?" Harry wondered nervously.

"I think," Ron hedged, "We're going to have to be chessmen."

. . .

Hermione's screams still echoed in his ears, and Harry fought back a soft sob as he stepped forward. The white king took off his crown and threw it at his feet, clattering on the marble floor. They had won, but at what cost? The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron's still body, Harry, Hermione and Draco charged through the door.

"What if he's - ?" Hermione choked, silent tears tracking down her face.

Harry tried to answer, but found the words wouldn't come.

"He'll be all right," Draco told them softly, wrapping a protective arm around Harry. "Weasley knew that sacrifices had to be made."

This, of course, did nothing to console them, but Harry nodded obstinately, pulling away.

"What do you reckon's next?" he asked. Hermione bit her lip.

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the key, and McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive. That leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's." As she spoke, they had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered to his friends.

"Go on," Draco urged. Harry pushed it open and a disgusting smell instantly filled their nostrils, making all three cover their noses.

Eyes watering, they saw - unconscious on the floor in front of them - a troll even larger than the one they had apprehended on Halloween. It's face was drenched in a sheen of dark blood, almost black in nature. Harry swallowed harshly.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," he whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs.

"Come on," Draco whinged. "I can't breathe." The blonde pulled open the next door slowly, anticipating an immediate attack.

He peered in, letting out a breath. "It Uncle Sev's," he told them. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, eyeing the table with seven differently shaped bottles. Immediately a fire sprang up behind them, blocking the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. Harry sucked in a breath, remembering his dream. (He reached towards her, gasping as her body erupted in black and purple flames.)

They were trapped, and Harry felt an impending sense of claustrophobia creeping in.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Draco, looking over Hermione's shoulder, read aloud for Harry's benefit.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.

"Godfather always did like his logic puzzles," Draco finished, glancing warily at Hermione.

"I think it's brilliant," the Gryffindor countered, smiling despite the silver tear tracks on her cheeks. "This isn't magic at all; it's logic! A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, and they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" Harry worried his bottom lip.

"Of course not," Hermione scoffed. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But which one do we drink?" Draco asked impatiently. "I could sniff them for you, that's what father usually does."

"Don't be daft," Hermione dismissed. "If there truly is poison here, the fumes could put you in a coma. Just give me a minute," she read the paper several times before walking up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself. At last, she clapped her hands triumphantly. "Got it," Hermione exclaimed. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire . . . toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle, stomach sinking in dread. "There's only enough there for one of us," he told them softly. "That's hardly one swallow. Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione, smile dropping, pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You two drink that," Harry took in a deep breath. Draco looked indignant. "No, listen, please," he pleaded. "Go back to the chess room and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy. Hermione, you drop Ron off at the Infirmary and go straight to the owlery. Tell Hedwig to find Dumbledore, I have a feeling we'll need him. Draco, if you think you can, try and awaken your Uncle as well. I'm sure a bezoar will work - "

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. " - I might be able to hold Voldemort off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really," Harry finished, clenching his wand handle.

"Harry," Draco protested. "The strongest spell you know is the petrifying charm! This is You-Know-Who we're talking about. You can't honestly expect - "

"Well, I was lucky once, wasn't I?" Harry swallowed, face dubious. "Who knows, I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him. "Hermione!" he gasped, his arms awkwardly at his sides.

"Harry . . . oh, Harry, you're a great wizard, you know," she whispered in his ears, bushy hair tickling his chin.

"I'm not as good as you," Harry stammered, standing stiffly until she let go of him.

"Me!" Hermione squeaked, wiping at her eyes. "Books and cleverness, perhaps, but that's it. There are more important things; friendship and bravery and - oh Harry, just be careful!" With that warning, she backed away, Draco quickly filling her spot.

The Boy-Who-Lived nearly lost his breath at Draco's strength, while the blonde's eyes were suspiciously wet. "You're a reckless fool, Potter," his best friend spat, pressing his cheek to Harry's wavy black locks. "I hate this. I hate it."

Harry silently agreed. The Malfoy heir pulled away, his expression scolding. Fully aware of Granger's eyes on them, Draco reached out to tentatively touch the back of Harry's hand. "Come back to me, Harry," Draco whispered. "If you die on me, I swear to Merlin that I will use whatever magic necessary to bring you back - only to kill you again. Then, I'll bring you back again and kidnap you for my own nefarious purposes."

"Summer Quidditch partner, right?" Harry said, faintly bemused. "Or a test subject for all your illegal potions?"

Draco smirked. "Obviously. But at least the accommodations will be nice. You're coming to the Manor during Summer hols, right?"

Harry sniffed lightly, eyes glimmering. "I hope so," he said softly, squeezing Draco's hand. Pulling away, he glanced toward Hermione, who looked a bit bewildered at the exchange. 'Boys' she thought in fond exasperation.

"You are sure which potion is which, aren't you?" Harry asked her.

"Positive," Hermione sighed. She and Draco went to stand by the purple flames, each of them taking a short drink from the round bottle. Hermione shuddered at the taste.

"It's not poison?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No, but it's like ice." Draco shivered.

Harry nodded at them, his eyes closing to fight another wave of tears. "Quickly, go, before it wears off. Good luck, both of you."

"Good luck to you," Hermione told him, both first-years hesitating before the flames.

"Go!" Harry bit out furiously, turning away. The last thing they saw before passing through the flames was Harry's shoulders shaking slightly, before drawing up in resolve.

Hearing their footsteps become distant, Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle.

Turning to face the black flames, he drained the little bottle in one gulp. It indeed felt as though ice was flooding his body, his teeth chattering in protest. Tossing away the bottle, he stepped through black flames. Faint heat licked at his body, smoke and darkness filling his vision.

He let out a small breath as he entered the last chamber, the potion already wearing off - he could feel the warmth at his back, but it didn't hurt. Harry took in his surroundings, fighting a gasp as he saw a figure with their back to him.

It didn't appear to be Voldemort, the wraith-like creature he'd met in the forest, but that did nothing to console him.

It was Quirrell.

To be continued . . .