After Harry had completed his letter to Luna, they headed down to dinner early. They were all nervous about the task they had ahead of them, but were desperately trying to hide it. They ate dinner quickly then they headed back to the dormitory. As usual, they retreated to the boys' dormitory. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. The other four didn't talk much. They were thinking about what they were about to do.
Around eleven, as their room started to fill up, they moved to the common room. Not many people were left. Finally, when Marcus finally went to sleep at half twelve, Harry rose to get the invisibility cloak. He pulled the cloak out of his trunk and 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 to the common room.
"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all of us – if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own —"
"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Daphne appeared from behind an armchair, clutching her cat, who looked as though he'd been making a bid for freedom.
"Nothing, Daphne, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back. She stared at their guilty faces.
"You're going out," she said.
"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Daphne?"
Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, the professors might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.
"You can't go out," said Daphne, "you'll be caught. Slytherin will lose it's first place running for the house cup."
"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important." But Daphne was clearly steeling herself to do something desperate.
"I won't let you do it," she said, hurrying to stand in front of the exit. "I'll — I'll fight you!"
"Daphne," Draco exploded, "get away from that door and don't be an idiot —"
"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Daphne. "I don't think you should be breaking any rules."
"Daphne, you don't know what you're doing," said Vince in exasperation. He took a step forward and Daphne dropped her cat, who ran off.
"Go on then!" said Daphne, raising her wand. "I'm ready!" Harry turned to Hermione.
"Do something," he said desperately. Hermione stepped forward.
"Daphne," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this." She raised her wand. "Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Daphne. Daphne's arms snapped to her sides. Her legs sprang together. Her whole body rigid, she swayed where she stood and then fell flat on her face, stiff as a board. Hermione ran to turn her over. Daphne's jaws were jammed together so she couldn't speak. Only her eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.
"What've you done to her?" Harry whispered.
"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Daphne, I'm so sorry."
"We had to, Daphne, no time to explain," said Harry.
"You'll understand later, Daphne," said Greg as they stepped over her and pulled on the invisibility cloak. But leaving Daphne lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. 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," Vince whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything. They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.
"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed 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 rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them. "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 almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.
"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake — I didn't see you — of course I didn't, you're invisible — forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."
"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."
"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you." And he scooted off.
"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Draco. A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor — and the door was already ajar.
"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "They've already got past Fluffy." Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the others. "If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."
"Don't be stupid," said Greg.
"We're coming," said Hermione. Harry pushed the door open. As the door 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," said Draco. "The professors must have left it there."
"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "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 and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.
"Keep playing," Greg warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.
"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Vince, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Mia?"
"No, I don't! Draco?"
"Of course not!"
"All right." Greg 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?" Hermione said anxiously.
"Nothing — just black — there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop." Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Greg to get his attention and pointed at himself.
"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Greg. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Mia 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 on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Greg and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the dormitory and call my mum on the mirror, alright?"
"Right," said Draco.
"See you in a minute, I hope..." And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and — FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.
"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"
Greg followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.
"What's this stuff?" were his first words.
"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Vince!" Vince dropped and landed near them, closely followed by Draco. "Your turn, Mia!" Harry called. The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side.
"We must be miles under the school," she said.
"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Draco.
"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you all!" She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry, Draco, Vince, and Greg, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing. Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on her. Now she watched in horror as the four boys fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.
"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "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," snarled Greg, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck.
"Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.
"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.
"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? — it likes the dark and the damp."
"So light a fire!" Vince choked.
"Yes — of course — but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.
"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Draco bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"
"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Quirrell at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the four boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.
"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Mia," said Harry as he joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.
"Yeah," said Draco, "and lucky Vince doesn't lose his head in a crisis — 'there's no wood,' honestly."
"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward. All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts.
"Can you hear something?" Vince whispered. Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.
"Do you think it's a ghost?"
"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."
"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. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.
"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Draco.
"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run." 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. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked. The others followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Mia tried her Alohomora charm.
"Now what?" said Greg.
"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione. They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering —glittering?
"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys — look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while the other four squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes — look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"
"But there are hundreds of them!" Vince examined the lock on the door.
"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one — probably silver, like the handle." They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one. Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.
"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one — there — no, there — with bright blue wings — the feathers are all crumpled on one side." Greg went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.
"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Draco, you come at it from above — Mia, stay below and stop it from going down. Vince, Greg, come at it from either side to keep it from darting left or right, and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!" Draco dived, Hermione rocketed upward, Vince and Greg zoomed in, the key dodged them all, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. His friends' cheers echoed around the high chamber. They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned – it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.
"Ready?" Harry asked the other four, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open. The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. They all shivered slightly – the towering white chessmen had no faces.
"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Vince. "We've got to play our way across the room." Behind the white pieces they could see another door.
"How?" said Hermione nervously.
"I think," said Vince, "we're going to have to be chessmen." He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Vince. "Do we — er — have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Vince turned to the other four. "This needs thinking about..." he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces..."
Harry, Hermione, Greg, and Draco stayed quiet, watching in awe as Vince thought. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but I've noticed that you aren't very good at chess —"
"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "We know it's true, but I didn't realize that you were such a chess expert."
"Well, Harry, I've been part of the chess team most of the year.
"Really?" asked Hermione. "I never noticed you missing at any point."
"Yeah, the meetings were usually on the weekends, I think you all thought I was trying to avoid homework or something."
"I do remember you not being there some mornings," said Draco. "It sounds as though you've got the best chess knowledge. Lead us to victory, Vince." Vince smiled.
"Ok, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go there instead of that castle. Greg, take the place of that other castle, and Draco take the other bishop."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to be a knight," said Vince. The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, the bishops, and the castles turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving five empty squares that they all took.
"White always plays first in chess," said Vince, peering across the board. "Yes... look..." A white pawn had moved forward two squares. Vince started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?
"Harry — move diagonally four squares to the right." Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.
"Had to let that happen," said Vince, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on." Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Vince only just noticed in time that his teammates were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.
"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think — let me think..." The white queen turned her blank face toward him.
"Yes..." said Vince softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."
"NO!" they all shouted.
"That's chess!" snapped Vince. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I make my move and she'll take me — that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"
"But —"
"Do you want to stop them or not?"
"Vince —"
"Look, if you don't hurry up, they'll already have the Stone!" There was no alternative.
"Ready?" Vince called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go — now, don't hang around once you've won." He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Vince hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor — Hermione screamed but stayed on her square — the white queen dragged Vince to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out. Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. Greg offered to stay behind with Vince. With one last desperate look back at Vince, Harry, Draco, and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.
"What if he's —?"
"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "Greg's with him. What do you reckon's next?"
"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; Hagrid loaned Fluffy; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's." They had reached another door.
The three pushed it open and were instantly met with a barrage of spell-fire. They were forced further into the room as the door shut automatically behind them with an ominous bang. The trio, having practiced blocking spells continuously over the year, was able to get proper shields up quickly, but not, however, before Draco was hit.
"Draco!" screamed Hermione.
"Not now, Mia, I need your help figuring out where these are coming from." After a long look at Draco to assure herself that he wasn't badly injured, she turned back to the room. As more spells hit their shields, Hermione was able to pinpoint the origin of the spells.
"There's a box over that other door. I think it works like a muggle alarm box."
"How do we disable it?"
"I don't know, but maybe we can try destroying it?"
"It's worth a try. How?" Hermione waited until the spells stopped for a moment, then ducked around Harry's shields.
"Incendio," she called. Her aim was perfect, hitting the box right in the middle. Within moments, all that was left was ashes. They held their shields a moment longer, making sure that the spell-fire had stopped. When it became apparent that they spells had definitely stopped, they dropped their shields and stood. They walked over to the door, and Harry grabbed the handle. He turned back to Hermione.
"All right?" Harry whispered.
"Yes, but Draco's not." Hermione had bent down next to Draco and was trying to wake him up. "He's out cold."
"He's still breathing, though, right?"
"Yes, he doesn't have any obvious injuries. Maybe he just got hit by a stunner?"
Hermione sounded so desperately hopeful that Harry couldn't help but agree. "Yeah, I'm sure, so he can take a nap while we make it through the next room."
"All right, Harry. Let's go." She stood and followed him to the other side of the room. Harry pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.
"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?" They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.
"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over her shoulder to read it:
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.
Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.
"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic — it's logic — a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."
"But so will we, won't we?"
"Of course not," said Hermione. "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 how do we know which to drink?"
"Give me a minute." Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands. "Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire — toward the Stone." Harry looked at the tiny bottle.
"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow." They looked at each other. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line. "You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, go back and get the others. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy — go back to the common room, help Daphne."
"But Harry — what if you need help?"
"Well — they haven't tried to do me any harm yet." said Harry. "I should be fine." Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.
"Hermione!"
"Harry — you're a great wizard, you know."
"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.
"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful! "
"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"
"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.
"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.
"No — but it's like ice."
"Quick, go, before it wears off."
"Good luck — take care."
"GO!" Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire. Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames. "Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp. It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them — for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire — then he was on the other side, in the last chamber. Despite his hopes that he had been wrong, both professors were standing there, arguing with each other.