Nearly

Hermione offers to run to the owlery to send a message to Dumbledore, while the boys try and get to the Stone before it's stolen. Harry stuffs the Invisibility Cloak in his pocket — they won’t need it now — and takes the lead. The three boys shuffle further inside the corridor and creep closer to the sleeping beast as quietly and cautiously as possible. A bewitched harp is standing to the side, still playing its soothing tune, keeping Fluffy asleep. 

As they get closer to the sleeping dog, its hot, smelly breaths hits them from three sides. Draco gags before quickly raising his arm to his face. Harry catches Ron’s eyeroll, but doesn’t say anything just gestures for them both to stay back for a moment. Then he carefully crawls over one of Fluffy’s enormous paws and grabs the ring of the trapdoor and pulls it open. 

”I really hope that harp keeps playing”, Ron mutters as he’s sprawled on top of the paw, halfway over it to follow Harry.

Harry edges around the trapdoor to make room for him, then looks over at Draco to make sure he’s coming as well before squatting down and peering down the hole in the floor. Draco inches closer to the paw, but remains on the other side, frozen to the spot. He is trembling violently and looks white as a ghost. 

”It’s alright, Draco”, Harry whispers. ”It won’t wake up, come on…”

”Y-y-you don’t know that”, Draco whispers. 

”If the harp stops playing, I’ll sing something until you both have climbed down”, Harry promises and Draco finally tears his terrified eyes away from Fluffy’s nearest head and gives him a sceptical look. ”Can you sing? I mean, are you any good? ’Cause if not, I’m not —”

”Just get over here”, Ron hisses.

”Don’t tell me what to do, Weasel —!” Draco hisses back. 

”Draco”, Harry whispers sharply. ”Either come over here now or go back to the dorms, we don’t have time to argue about this!”

The hopeful look on Ron’s face is what finally gets Draco moving and he slides over the paw gracefully, glaring daggers at Ron the whole time. 

”All right”, Harry murmurs. ”I’ll go first. Wait for me to tell you if the coast is clear…”

He lowers himself slowly into the hole, until he’s hanging on to the edge by his fingertips. He looks up at the other two boys, both staring down at him worriedly, ”If something happens to me, don’t follow. Just go back and send Hedwig with a message to Dumbledore, okay?”

Draco looks positively horrified at the idea of leaving Harry to his fate should something happen to him, but both he and Ron nod their assent. Harry takes a deep breath, then lets go. 

Cool, damp air rushes past him as he falls, further and further down… Until finally he drops onto something quite soft with a muffled thump. He sits up and looks around, but it’s pitch black around him so he can’t make out a single thing. Instead he feels around at whatever he’s landed on… It’s some kind of a plant. 

”It’s okay!” he calls up towards the trapdoor, now the size of a small postcard over his head.

Ron jumps straight away, landing in a sprawling heap right next to Harry. 

”What is this stuff?” he says. 

”Dunno, some sort of plant. Probably here to break the fall… Draco, come on!”

Suddenly the distant harp music stops and Harry’s heart stutters in his chest as the silence is almost immediately filled with angry growling instead. 

But in the next moment, Draco lands on the other side of Harry and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

”It won’t wake up”, Draco snarls. ”Right. It definitely won’t wake up!”

”We all made it, Draco, so give it a rest!” Harry says. 

”Yeah, it’s lucky this plant thing’s here and all…” Ron says.

”Lucky? Lucky?” Draco more or less shrieks as he scrambles to his feet and starts to struggle to get away from them and over to one of the damp walls. ”Look at you both! This is Devil’s Snare!”

Harry looks down in confusion, his eyes beginning to get used to the darkness now and he can make out moving tendrils that slither around and over him, twisting around his legs… Draco tears himself loose from the plant at last and crashes into the wall panting. But Harry and Ron are thoroughly trapped, and the more they strain and pull, the faster the plant seems to wound around them. 

”Stop it!” Draco cries. ”Stop fighting it!”

”Are you mental?” Ron bellows, thrashing his head around wildly to stop a tendril from curling around his neck. 

”Shut up, I’m trying to think —!” Draco hollers frantically. ”Oh Merlin, Oh Salazar, what was it, what was it… Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare… Oh, I can’t think! Shut up, Weasley!”

Ron’s gurgling gasps continue though, as the plant has now managed to ensnare his throat and is steadily choking him. 

”Hurry — up —” Harry gasps, as a particularly thick tendril wounds around his chest and squeezes hard. ”Can’t — breathe —!”

”Oh, oh — Devil’s Snare — It likes the dark and the damp —!” Draco sobs. ”Yes, yes, that’s it!”

Harry can hear Draco fumble with something. There’s a muffled clatter as he drops his wand, but in the next moment he gasps, ”L- L- Lumos Maxima!” 

A bright light suddenly bursts out of Draco’s wand tip and floods the small chamber. Within seconds, Harry feels the plant loosening its grip on him as it wriggles frantically and cringes away from the light. He pulls himself free, and quickly bends over Ron to make sure he’s okay. The redhead gasps and splutters, but he seems to be fine. Harry gives him a hand up and they join Draco over by the wall. 

”You saved our lives!” Harry pants. 

Draco says nothing, just continues to stare at the recoiling plant in the other end of the room, his face set in concentration as he maintains the spell. 

”Okay, this way…” Harry says, noticing a stone passageway leading out of the room.

”Can you hear anything?” Ron says after a while. 

Harry listens carefully. Apart from the gentle drip of water, he can hear something as well… A soft rustling like wings, and a clinking sound… 

They reach the end of the passageway that opens up into a bright chamber with a high, arching ceiling and looking up they see the source of the weird noise… Hundreds of fluttering birds, glittering slightly in the light… Harry frowns, what is the point of that? 

On the other end of the chamber is a wooden door, the only door in the whole chamber and obviously the way forward. 

”Think they’ll attack us if we try and cross the room?” Ron whispers without taking his eyes of the swarm of birds overhead. 

”Probably”, Harry mutters. ”Only one way to find out… You stay here —”

He covers his face with his arms and makes a run for it. But nothing happens. He reaches the door without trouble and none of the birds seem to have noticed him at all. 

”Huh…” he says and shrugs, turning towards the door and trying the handle. 

It’s locked. Ron jogs across the room, Draco sauntering after him, and they all try pulling the handle together, but the door won’t budge. 

”Now what?” Ron says.

”Just because you’ve got two Slytherins with you, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least try and think for yourself, Weasel —” Draco grumbles. 

”Shut up, Malfoy!”

”Don’t fight”, Harry mumbles half-heartedly, staring up at the birds and thinking… 

They’re obviously here for a reason, but… Hang on… Harry squints at one of the closest birds and realises with a jolt why they’re all glittering — they aren’t birds at all, they’re keys!

Harry quickly looks around the chamber until he spots a couple of broomsticks in a corner. 

”Yes! I know what we need to do!” He exclaims and runs over to grab three of the broomsticks and hands one each to Ron and Draco before mounting his own. ”They’re not birds, they’re winged keys! We just have to find the one that will unlock that door!”

”But there are hundreds of them!” Draco whines. ”It’s going to take forever —!”

Ron leans down to examine the lock on the door more closely, ”We’re looking for a big, old-fashioned one… probably silver, like the handle…”

They all kick off the ground and soar into the air, zooming around the chamber and diving through the swarm of bewitched keys, grabbing at them blindly but the keys dart around so quickly it’s almost impossible to catch one. 

Suddenly, Harry spots a large silver key that flies a little slower than the rest due to a broken wing and he realises this must be the one, Snape must have already caught it once and broken its wing in the process! He dives after it, but even with a broken wing the key is fast. 

”Okay, you guys!” he yells without taking his eye off the key. ”It’s that one there — see it? — bright blue wings, one of them broken? — we need to close in on it, so Ron you come at it from above, Draco you stay underneath it and I’ll try and catch it! Ready —?”

Ron dives, Draco rockets upwards and the key, flitting between them in fright, darts to the side — but Harry is ready for it — he snatches it and squeezes it tightly in his fist, the poor thing flailing frantically. 

”Got it!” Harry yells in triumph. 

He makes a nose-dive towards the door and pulls up just before he crashes and lands smoothly on the floor. Ron and Draco both land next to him, their brooms clattering to the floor. 

Harry sticks the battered key into the lock and turns it. The door swings open, revealing a pitch black room. The three boys enter cautiously with their arms out-stretched to feel for any obstacles. But as soon as the door slides shut again behind them, light suddenly floods the chamber and they gasp as a huge chess set with life-sized chessmen is revealed. 

The boys creep closer and Harry notices that some of the black pieces are missing, whereas the white side on the far end of the room seems to be intact. 

”What do you suppose we’re meant to do here?” Harry asks, although he’s got a pretty good idea. 

”It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Ron murmurs. ”We need to play our way across the room.”

Harry usually enjoys wizard chess, but he’s the first to admit that he isn’t very good. He’s played both Ron and Draco however, and they are both excellent players. Draco in particular have a very strategic way of thinking, so he thinks they should be fine, as long as the two boys can get along for long enough to finish the game… 

Ten minutes later, Harry wishes that thought had never entered into his head, sure he must have jinxed them all by thinking it… Ron, having chosen to be one of the Knights, is sitting on top of a life-sized stone horse, looking quite imposing from the added height, but despite this Draco is stubbornly standing his ground from his position as a castle, his arms crossed and his eyes flashing furiously as Ron hollers at him. 

”If you move to D4, then their castle will move to—!”

”That’s the most imbecilic tactic I have ever heard of, I refuse to be a decoy —!”

”It’s the only way to get Harry to —!”

”I do not take orders from a antipositional cretin, who thinks sending a Bishop to take out a pawn is a book move —!” Draco snaps.

Ron splutters indignantly for a moment, his face getting redder and redder by the minute. Harry would step in and mediate, but he doesn’t even understand what they’re saying. 

”JUST MOVE TO D4 —!”

”You move to E12 —!”

”Wha—!” Ron cuts himself off and whips his head around, staring in shock at the White Queen who turns her faceless head as if staring back, and he gulps. ”Oh — Yeah, yeah, you’re right… That’s… That’s actually…”

Draco smirks triumphantly. 

”What?” Harry mutters. ”What are we doing?”

”I’ll have to be taken”, Ron says. 

”What, no —!” Harry protests. 

”It’s the only way”, Draco says. ”If the Queen takes Ron, they you can take the King and it’s check mate.”

”But Ron —”

”That’s chess”, Ron says sharply. ”You have to make sacrifices! All right — here goes —”

Ron moves, and immediately the White Queen pounces on him. She strikes him over the head with her large stone arm, knocking him off the horse and he crumples in a heap on the ground. The Queen grabs him and the horse and drags them off the chess board. 

”R-Ron? Are you — are you all right —?” Harry calls after him. 

”He’ll be fine”, Draco mutters. ”It’s your move, Harry…”

Shaking, Harry moves three spaces to the left as Draco instructs him and immediately the White King takes off his crown and throws it at his feet. The remaining chessmen on the white side parts to make way for them and bows when Harry and Draco pass. 

”What do you reckon is next?” Harry says, trying to stay focused despite his worry for Ron.

”Well, we’ve had Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall, haven’t we? So that leaves Quirrell and Snape — oh, and Dumbledore —”

Harry pushes the door open and a disgusting smell hits them. Draco gags and quickly buries his face in the crook of his arm. Through watering eyes, they see the knocked-out body of a massive troll on the ground in front of them, at least twice the size of the troll that attacked Hermione on Hallowe’en. 

”So glad we didn’t have to deal with that”, Harry says and steps over its massive legs. ”Come on, I can’t breathe in here.”

They hurry across the chamber and through the next door, shutting it firmly behind them. Thankfully the stench vanishes as soon as the door clicks shut and Harry gulps down a deep breath. 

In this room, a single table is set up and on top of it is a row of seven differently shaped bottles of potion. As soon as they step further into the room, purple fire erupts between them and the door they came through and black fire roars to life in front of the only other door in the room, the door leading to the Stone.

”What do we do?” Harry says uncertainly, eyeing the potion bottles.

Draco steps up to the table and seizes a roll of parchment, ”Look! Instructions!”

He scans the paper quickly, and Harry steps closer to him and peers down at the parchment over his shoulder. It looks like a riddle to him and he frowns. They don’t have time for riddles, any minute now Snape will have his hand on the Stone!

”Brilliant!” Draco squeals. ”This isn’t magic — it’s logic — Oh, that’s so clever! Most people haven’t got an ounce of logic, they’d be stuck in here forever!”

”So will we, won’t we?”

”Of course not!” Draco huffs haughtily. ”Are you a Slytherin, or not? Everything we need to know is here on this piece of paper, we just have to work it out — So! Let’s see — seven bottles, three are poison —”

”— Poison —!”

”— hush, I’m thinking — two are wine, one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us safely through the purple, okay!” Draco says in a rush, his eyes practically sparkling at the challenge as he peers at the bottles. 

”Now I know why you’re Snape’s favourite”, Harry mutters. 

Draco doesn’t seem to have heard him; he is walking up and down the length of the table, peering closely at each bottle and muttering intensely to himself. Finally, he stands up swiftly and beams at Harry. 

”You worked it out?” Harry says apprehensively, but feels hope flare in his chest. 

”I think so! The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire!”

Draco points to the tiniest of all the bottles and Harry feels his stomach sink. The bottle is not only tiny, it’s also almost completely empty. 

”That’s barely enough for one person…”

Draco’s face falls and he looks at the bottle as if seeing it for the first time, ”Oh… I didn’t think of that…”

”Have you worked out which one will get you through the purple fire?”

”Yeah, it’s the — hang on, why are you asking? You’re not thinking of going on by yourself, are you?”

”Listen —” Harry starts, but Draco’s eyes widen comically and he starts to shake his head. ”No, listen, Draco — You go back and get help, and make sure Ron is okay, you can grab one of the brooms from the key room and it’ll get you out of here faster — I’ll try and hold Snape or whoever is in there off until Dumbledore gets here. It’s the only way.”

”B-but Harry — what if You-Know-Who is in there —?”

Harry swallows thickly. He doesn’t want to think about that. But he plasters a reassuring smile onto his face and points to his scar, ”I got lucky once, didn’t I? Maybe I’ll get lucky again!”

Draco’s eyes begin to glitter even more than they did when he was working out the potions riddle, and a second later Harry knows why… Big tears tumble down the blonde’s face and he lets out a strangled sob, before throwing himself at Harry and wrapping his arms around him tightly. Harry staggers back under the sudden weight that crashes into him, but manages to keep them both upright. He hugs back quickly and feels his own resolve strenghten again. 

”It’ll be okay, you’ll see”, he says earnestly. ”Now, you drink yours first, I want to be sure you’re okay before I go…”

Draco wipes the tears off his face and nods, grabbing one of the larger bottles from the table.

”You’re absolutely sure that’s the one?” Harry asks anxiously. 

”Yeah, positive”, Draco mumbles and takes a swig from the bottle. 

”Now go, before it wears off!” Harry urges him. ”GO!”

Draco gives him a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, stunning him, before darting through the purple fire and disappearing from view. Harry remains stock still for a second, just staring at the purple flames, and gingerly prodding the side of his mouth with his fingertips. 

But then he shakes off the shock and grabs the tiny bottle, taking a deep, steeling breath he brings it over to the other doorway. 

”Here goes”, he murmurs and empties the bottle onto his tongue before quickly strepping through the black flames with his eyes screwed shut. 

He feels nothing. Just a slightly tickling sensation, like travelling by floo. He opens his eyes… and blinks several times, his heart stuttering in his chest… It can’t be, he thinks numbly. 

Slowly the man turns around to face him, his purple turban perched on top of his head as always  but that’s the only thing recognisable about Quirrell right now; his usually pale and terrified face is completely calm as he stares back at Harry, and he smirks. 

”You!” Harry gasps. ”No — Snape —”

”Ah, yes…” Quirrell murmurs without a hint of a stammer. ”He does seem the type, doesn’t he? It has been so useful having him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would ever suspect p-p-poor s-s-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?” 

The man chuckles coldly. Then with a snap of his fingers, ropes spring out of thin air and wrap themselves tightly around Harry’s body, pinning his arms to his sides and squeezing the air out of his lungs. 

”Gerroff —!” Harry gasps and tries to wrench his arms free, but the ropes only coil tighter and tighter around his body and he topples over and falls with a heavy thump to the hard stone floor, his glasses flying off and landing with a clatter in front of his face. 

”I’m sorry, but you’re simply too nosy to live, Potter…” Quirrell says in a drawling voice. ”Scurrying around the school at Hallowe’en like that, for all I knew you’d seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone…”

”You — you — let the — troll in —?” Harry gasps incredulously. 

”Certainly, I did. You see, I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did with the one in the chamber back there? — but unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, which was my plan, Snape who was already suspecting me went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did the troll fail to beat you to death, the three-headed dog didn’t even manage to bite Snape’s leg off properly!” Quirrell huffs in annoyance. ”Ah well. It will all be remedied tonight… Now hold tightly, Potter, while I examine this mirror…”

The blurry figure that is Quirrell turns away to look at the huge mirror with the golden frame, the same mirror that Harry found that one night when he was hiding from Filch and Snape, that is propped up against the far wall. Harry barely has time to notice this however, when a searing pain bursts out of his scar and gasps. 

”Hush now, Potter — I’m trying to think —” Quirrell mutters. 

Harry’s eyes flood with tears as the pain gets stronger and stronger, but he forces himself to stay present, to keep Quirrell talking — anything to buy him time — 

”I saw you and Snape — in the forest —!” he gasps. 

”Yes…” Quirrell says idly, feeling his way around the golden frame of the mirror. ”He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I’d got… He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me — as though he could, when I have Lord Voldemort on my side…”

Quirrell walks behind the mirror and disappears from sight for a moment, and the pain in Harry’s scar quickly fades again. He takes a few deep breaths and blinks the tears out of his eyes, not that it helps his eye sight any…

”This mirror is the key to finding the Stone”, Quirrell mutters from behind the mirror. ”Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… But not to worry… I’ll work it out… I have all night…”

Then Quirrell steps out from behind the mirror again and stands facing his reflection. Pain sears across Harry’s scar again and he bangs his head back against the stone floor, causing lights to flicker in front of his eyes and another, dull pain to explode in the back of his head… It helps distract him from the pain in his forehead though… 

”I see the Stone… I’m presenting it to my master… but where is it?” Quirrell mutters. 

”But I thought — I thought — Snape — hates me —?” Harry says. 

”Oh, he does”, Quirrell says casually. ”Or — well — hate is a strong word, I suppose… He certainly wasn’t pleased when you were sorted into his house, though… He was at school with your father, don’t you know — all of your fathers, I should say — and ah… ha ha… Severus does hold a grudge, I’m afraid…”

Quirrell lets out a humorless chuckle, ”Old school feuds… Such childish incentives… And Snape thinks he can frighten me into submission, thinks he can get me on my own and bully me into spilling my master’s secrets… He doesn’t know, he doesn’t realise, that I am never alone… ever…”

Harry frowns, it doesn’t make any sense, any of it. He’d been so sure that Snape was working for Voldemort. But now it seems as though he’s been a step ahead of everyone this whole time, working against Quirrell, nearly getting himself killed by Fluffy just to stop Quirrell from getting his hands on the Stone… Harry feels a twinge of guilt… I should have listened to Draco…

Quirrell curses under his breath, ”I don’t understand this… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?… What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”

To Harry’s horror, a voice answers — and it seems to be coming from Quirrell himself. 

”Use the boy… Use the boy…”

Quirrell wheels around to face Harry again, and once again the pain in Harry’s forehead fades to a dull throb. 

”Ah — yes, of course — Potter! Come here!”

Quirrell claps his hands and the ropes around Harry’s body loosen and fall off. Harry scrambles to his feet, panting. Should I make a run for it? 

”I said, come here!” Quirrell barks. ”Come here and stand in front of the mirror, tell me what you see!”

Harry walks up to the mirror and Quirrell stands back to let him have a proper look. At first, there is nothing in the mirror’s reflection that shouldn’t be there. No invisible people standing behind Harry, like the last time he looked into it. Only him. Except… There is something slighty off about his face… Harry can’t be sure, of course, since he has no other means of seeing his own face, but it seems odd to him that his reflection is smirking… And also, there seems to be no streaks of tears on his face, but Harry can definitely feel the chill on his cheeks where some of the tears have yet to dry… 

The boy in the reflection’s smirk widens into a happy smile, and then — Harry stares wide-eyed — the boy slowly puts his hand in his trouser pocket and pulls out a blood-red stone, shows it to Harry, then puts it back in his pocket again — and as he does, Harry feels an added weight suddenly appear in his own trouser pocket… Somehow, incredibly, Harry has got the Philosopher’s Stone!

”Well?” Quirrell demands impatiently. ”What do you see?”

”I — I see — myself and my — my dads — and Draco —”

”He lies… He lies…” the disembodied voice hisses, and Harry feels ripples of cold run over his body at the sound. ”Let me speak to him… face to face…”

”Master, you are not strong enough!” Quirrell says to the empty air in front of him. 

”I have strength enough… for this…”

Harry feels like the Devil’s Snare is back around his chest, squeezing him. He stands rooted to the spot and stares in mute horror as Quirrell reaches up and slowly begins to unwrap his purple turban and once the turban has fallen to the floor, he gives Harry one last withering look before slowly turning on the spot. 

Harry cringes in shock, and would have screamed if he wasn’t so petrified. Where the back of Quirrell’s head ought to have been, another face is protruding; a terrible, chalk white face, and although Harry can’t make out the features without his glasses on, there’s no mistaking the bright, red eyes…

”Harry Potter…” the face wheezes. ”See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour… I have form only when I can share another’s body, like a parasite… But there has always been those willing to let me share their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strenghtened me these past few weeks — and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own again — Now… Why don’t you give me… that Stone… in your pocket?”

Harry stumbles back in panic and trips over, sprawling on the floor. 

”Don’t be a fool”, Voldemort snarls. ”Better save your own life and join me, or you’ll meet the same end as your parents…”

Quirrell starts walking backwards towards Harry, so that Voldemort can still see him. Harry quickly scrambles back. 

”Don’t be brave, boy… Your parents were brave, that’s what got them killed… I killed your father first, he put up quite a courageous fight… Your mother needn’t have died at all, but she was trying to protect you… Now give me the Stone, or her sacrifice will have been in vain —”

”NEVER!” Harry yells and jumps to his feet, dashing towards the still burning doorway. 

”SEIZE HIM!” Voldemort screams. 

Before Harry has reached the door, something grabs him by the ankle and pulls him back. He falls and hits the floor hard, the air getting knocked out of his lungs and he coughs. Quirrell grabs his wrist in a tight grip and tries to turn him over — Harry’s scar bursts open with white-hot, blinding pain and he screams — struggling with all his remaining strength, Harry thrashes under Quirrell’s weight as the man leans over him and tries to reach inside his pocket… 

Harry slaps his hand on top of Quirrell’s to try and stop it from reaching inside, and to his utter amazement, Quirrell actually pulls his hand back… In the next moment, Quirrell has moved off Harry entirely and stepped back… Harry sits up and stares around wildly, it looks as though Quirrell is hunched over in pain, he’s cradling his hand to his chest and panting… Harry tries to see what’s wrong with his hand, but his eye sight is too poor…

”Seize him! SEIZE HIM!” Voldemort cries. 

Once more Quirrell lunges at Harry and knocks him back again. He grabs him by the throat with both hands and squeezes tightly. Harry gasps for breath, feeling his lungs sting from lack of oxygen… A howling scream rings out across the room, echoing around them… Harry struggles to remain conscious… Who’s screaming? Is it me? 

Suddenly, Quirrell’s grip on his throat loosens and the hands move away. Harry wheezes and coughs. He tries to sit up, but Quirrell is still pinning him down with his knees on his chest. 

”Master, I am sorry — I cannot hold him — I don’t understand — my hands — my hands —!”

Harry realises then that Quirrell must have been the one howling. The man is staring down at his hands, almost sobbing in pain. Even Harry can tell that they’ve been burnt raw, they’re that red. 

”So kill him and be done with it!” Voldemort snarls. 

Quirrell fumbles with his wand and although it clearly hurts him to grip it, he manages to hold it steady and points it at Harry’s heart.

This is it, Harry thinks, his heart stuttering. He’ll kill me.

On pure instinct, Harry reaches up and puts his hands over Quirrell’s face, just as he opens his mouth to speak the curse —

”AAAARGH!!” 

Quirrell rolls off him, clutching his blistering face and howling in agony. With a jolt, Harry realises that — for some reason — Quirrell can’t touch Harry’s bare skin without suffering great pain… So his only chance of staying alive long enough for help to reach them, is to keep Quirrell in enough pain that he can’t perform the Killing Curse… 

Reinvigorated with hope, Harry struggles to his feet and launches himself at the man; he grabs a hold of his arm and holds on as tight as he can. 

Quirrell screams and tries to shake Harry off — Harry’s scar is searing again, but he screws his eyes shut and clings on to Quirrell’s arm for dear life — Voldemort shrieks at Quirrell to Kill him, kill him, kill him, and someone else seems to be crying, Harry, Harry!

Suddenly, something grabs him from behind and wrenches him off Quirrell’s arm. It’s over, Harry thinks, all is lost… Then he is falling… further and further into darkness, down… down… 

The first thing Harry becomes aware of is lying down, but not on the hard surface of the stone floor in the chamber, but a bed… Not his own bed at home, and not his bed in the Slytherin dorms either, but an unfamiliar bed… Something is pinning his arms to his body, but not in the restraining way that the Devil’s Snare had him pinned, or Quirrell’s ropes, but rather as though someone had put a blanket over him and tucked him in… Like daddy always does…

The second thing he becomes aware of is several noises around him… Muffled voices mostly… And one or two choked sobs… Then a sniffle… He tries to make out what the voices are saying, but his head is still throbbing and the voices are constantly overlapping… It sounds like a hushed argument… I hope they’re not fighting because of me, Harry thinks faintly and tries to blinks his eyes open… His eyelids are heavy, but soon he manages to peer out into the room… The voices quiet down immediately —

”Harry?” Remus exclaims. ”Harry! Oh, he’s awake — oh thank goodness —”

Someone puts his glasses onto his face and Harry blinks behind them, finally able to make out the faces of both his dads leaning over him, smiling in relief. Both Remus and Sirius have dark shadows under their eyes, but Remus looks worse; he looks like he hasn’t slept in a month. His eyes are raw from crying as well, Harry can tell and he feels guilt gripping his heart and squeezing it tightly. 

”D-da-ddy —?” he says, his voice breaking.

Remus immediately gathers him up in his arms and hugs him tightly, sniffling softly with his nose buried into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry feels his eyes sting and clings on to him.

”Don’t ever do that to me again”, the man murmurs thickly, and Harry nods. 

Remus pulls back swiftly, even though Harry tries to clutch his shoulders and hold on, and he fixes Harry with an intense look, ”Promise me, Harry!”

Harry scrunches his face up miserably and lets out a sob; Fresh tears well up in his eyes and tumble down his face as he cries, his fingers grappling with Remus’s shirt front, trying to make him come back… He doesn’t care how immature he looks, he just wants his daddy…

He can hear Remus let out a half-choked sob, and then he’s hugging him tightly again — ”Promise me, Harry” — Remus sits back on the bed, pulling Harry with him until Harry is more or less draped over his shoulder and clinging onto him like he never wants to let go.

Someone is carding their fingers through Harry’s hair, and without even looking to see who it is, Harry just knows that it’s his dad. 

Eventually, when Harry has cried himself out, he goes limp in his daddy’s lap. He can hear his dads and Dumbledore talking in hushed voices again, even as his eyelids droop and he begins to doze off with his head resting on Remus’s shoulder. Then Remus is stroking the back of his head and nuzzling the side of his face, sniffing slightly and Harry smiles tiredly. 

”Harry…” Remus murmurs. ”You awake?”

”Mmm…” Harry says softly, blinking his eyes open once more, glancing around over his daddy’s shoulder he realises for the first time that he’s in the Hospital Wing.

”You can go back to sleep soon”, Remus says. ”Your dad and I just wanted to say goodbye —”

Harry immediately goes rigid and jerks his head up, staring wildy between his two dads, ”No, don’t leave me —!”

”Shhh”, Remus hushes gentle. ”It’s okay. We’re going to get a room in Hogsmeade and we’ll come back tomorrow.”

”You’re staying?”

”Yes, we’re staying for the night.”

”Just the one night?” Harry says, trying not to let too much of his disappointment shine through, well aware that he can’t expect his dads to just leave everything and keep him company in Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

”Harry… You’ve been unconscious for three days”, Remus says in a carefully neutral tone. ”Tomorrow is the last day of term. You won’t need to go to any of your classes, but… You dad and I thought it wouldn’t be fair to take you home and have you miss your first end-of-the-year feast… But afterwards, you are coming home with us.”

Remus gives Harry his stern look, as if expecting him to protest. But Harry doesn’t really care about going back on the Hogwarts Express. Of course, he might feel differently tomorrow… But there’s something about having had a near death experience and being in a hospital bed, Harry thinks, it just makes you want your dads close… So he just smiles and nods. 

”I wonder”, Professor Dumbledore says softly. ”If I might have a word with Harry —?”

”No”, Remus says shortly, without looking at the Headmaster. 

Sirius bites his lip to keep from saying anything, but he looks very apprehensive. And it is suddenly clear to Harry who was arguing when he was waking up. He glances over at his dad, who gives him a pinched little smile but winks discretely to show him that eveything’s okay. 

Remus takes a deep breath and gives Harry a big smile, tucking him in once more. Then he reaches back and grabs a Chocolate Frog from the very large pile of sweets piled on top of a table at the end of the bed. 

”Here, eat this”, he says matter-of-factly. ”And then try and get some more rest.”

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Harry’s forehead, and for some reason the throbbing pain  in Harry’s scar seems to fade completely. 

Remus stands up to leave. 

”Wait —!” Harry says. ”Ron and Draco — are they —?”

”They’re fine”, Sirius says. ”Everything’s fine. You just get some rest, okay?”

”Okay…” Harry mumbles and settles back down. 

Professor Dumbledore steps aside politely to let Remus and Sirius pass, but Remus stops dead next to him and then holds out his arm in a rather exaggerated gesture as if to say No, No, After You, and Dumbledore sighs softly and leaves the Hospital Wing first.

Harry catches Remus give Sirius a miffed look, but the other man quickly shakes his head and gently ushers him out of the room without a word. 

Madam Pomfrey, a nice but rather strict woman,  bustles in after Harry’s dads have left, tutting and muttering under her breath about visitors exhausting her patients, ”At least Mr Lupin had the sense to bring chocolate…”

”Madam Pomfrey?” Harry says. ”Do you know what happened to Professor Quirrell?”

The matron pretends not to have heard him, and just tuts some more. 

”Or why my daddy was angry with Professor Dumbledore —?”

”No”, she says sharply. ”Eat another frog and try and get some rest.”

”I’m not hungry”, Harry mutters sullenly. 

There’s a knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey stalks over to it and sticks her head out. Harry can hear muffled voices outside, but he can’t make out who they belong to. 

”Absolutely not!” Madam Pomfrey says. 

”Is that my friends?” Harry calls hopefully. ”Can they come inside? Please? Just for five minutes?”

”I said, no, Potter! You need rest!” Madam Pomfrey shouts back, her hand still on the door handle.

”But I am resting! Look, I’m lying down and everything! Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey, please…”

”Oh, very well — but five minutes only!” she says and pulls the door open. 

Draco pushes his way in first, running up to Harry’s bed and grasping his hand in both of his. Harry can see Ron shuffling inside after him, glaring at the blonde’s back but quickly plastering on a big smile when Harry catches his eye. 

”How are you feeling?” Draco says and Harry can tell he’s been crying as well. 

”I’m fine”, he says quickly. ”How are you guys?”

”Yeah, fine”, Ron says. ”I was in here with you the other day, but I got released yesterday morning and you still hadn’t woken up then…”

”And you?” Harry asks Draco softly, smiling when a subtle tint of pink erupts in his pale cheeks. 

”Fine… Been worried about you, of course… But fine.”

”Did you see my dads —?”

Ron and Draco exchange an awkward look. 

”What?” Harry says and frowns. 

”Er — yeah — we did”, Ron mumbles, his face going beet red. ”One of your dads sort of came storming in here, he was livid —”

”He was asking us — well, mostly me — about what happened”, Draco cuts in. 

”I thought he was going to rip our heads off —” Ron says and Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, because the idea that his daddy could ever hurt anyone is just absurd. 

”He was a little scary”, Draco agrees, looking apologetic. 

”Are you serious?” Harry says. ”My daddy?”

”Yeah…” Draco mumbles. ”Then Professor Snape came and — well — they started arguing and then your other dad and Snape got into a bit of a fight…”

Harry just looks between his two friends, not sure what to think. 

”You’re having me on?” he says after a moment, and they both shake their heads. 

”To be fair”, Ron says. ”No-one even knew if you were going to wake up again, so they were probably just dead worried, you know? My mum is just the same when she worries. She could out-shout banshee…”

”I’ve just never seen either of my dads fight with anyone…” Harry mumbles. ”And Snape, too… I was completely wrong about him… He’s the one who’s been trying to stop Quirrell all year…”

”Yeah, I know”, Draco says. ”I kind of went and got him after I left you… Well, I figured, if he was in his office or his chambers, then it obviously wasn’t him trying to get the Stone, so he could help… He went and got Dumbledore, then contacted your dads and Weasley’s parents.”

”Is he really angry with us — or — me, d’you think?”

”Probably”, Draco admits. ”But he’ll have time to cool down over the summer…”

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustles back in from her office and shoos Ron and Draco out, ”You’ve had fiftenn minutes — now OUT!”