Chapter 10: QuidditchSummary:Hazel can't play Quidditch, but a mysterious attack puts the team's main and reserve Seekers in the hospital wing. Snape has no choice but to let her play for one game only.
Also Ron and Draco play chess and bicker, but what's new with you?
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextWinter arrived very abruptly, as Hazel found out when the windows of the common room were frozen over. She had taken an extra long shower the night before, and another one that morning, wanting to rinse away more than the stink of that troll. Just the thought of wasting the whole day grieving her parents annoyed her, no matter how deserved it was, though she hoped her new friends would be a positive influence. Another nice thought was that she finally wasn't so damn skinny in the mirror anymore, and she thought she felt a hard pair of lumps beneath the skin of her chest; all the food and running around were paying off, she thought with a giggle as she got dressed.
Blaise and Millicent cornered her in the common room asking if she was okay, and she told them what had happened. "Merda," Blaise swore. "How'd that troll get in, anyway?"
"Nobody knows, and the profs aren't saying a word either," Millicent replied, adjusting her sweater as they left the common room for the chilly castle beyond. "I think it was that Quirrell, honestly, he always smells funny."
"He does, but trust me, troll stink is way worse," Hazel countered morosely, shuddering. They all laughed at that, and she was in good spirits as they entered the great hall. To their surprise, they saw Draco and Ron Weasley hunched over a chessboard at the Gryffindor table. "What's- ooh, ouch..." For one of Ron's bishops had marched up and beaten an enemy pawn into several pieces before hurling them off the board. "I didn't know chess pieces did that."
"They do when it's Wizard's Chess," Draco muttered, frowning in concentration. Hazel had never seen such an intense look on his face, and decided to leave them to it. As usual she stuffed her face to the gills, then took off for classes with a fresh flask of coffee in preparation for old Binns. All anyone could talk about was the incident with the troll, though that faded away as news went out that the first match of the Quidditch season was going to be on Saturday. Hazel groaned; that meant Flint would be pushing them all to extra practices, even the reserves and the first-year trainees. She saw Ron with a similar expression, and learned that the other teams had taken a few promising firsties for practicing too.
Her broom had arrived, but until second year it was to remain with Flint, so she could only fly during practices, or under his or Hooch's supervision. She took full advantage of these opportunities and soared through the air, often ignoring the Snitch entirely for minutes on end just to prolong the feeling of leaving all her cares and stress on the ground. Then Flint would yell at her and she'd look around for the Snitch in earnest, flying purposefully back and forth until a glitter of gold caught her eye. By that point it was usually over, of course. Draco and Millicent were improving too, and she rather thought Millicent was getting heavier with all the exercise and food, but in a good way.
Classes proceeded apace, with her and Draco and Ron and Hermione working together whenever possible. Neville joined in too, and soon Blaise and Millicent did as well. Their study group had students from every House now, and Hazel was about to start having trouble remembering names if more people joined. Hermione wasn't as bossy as she had been either, which probably contributed to their popularity, and everyone reported good grades still so that was good. Hazel thought if they weren't, their group would have been disbanded by now.
The only dark spot was when they noticed Snape had a limp, which slightly got in the way of his usual swooping about. "It's nothing," he said brusquely, brushing their concerns aside in class one day. But he couldn't hide a wince as he turned away, and Hazel hoped he'd really be okay soon. That evening she realized she wasn't sure about a portion of her potions homework, and it was too late to compare notes with Hermione so she got up to find her Head of House. The staffroom was on the way to his office, but it was empty, so she kept going.
"What're yeh doin' out at this hour, firstie?" a grim voice wheezed, and Filch slouched into sight with a sneer. "Bit late ter be wanderin' about, eh?"
"It's not curfew yet, sir," she retorted, rolling her eyes at the wheezing old man. "I had a question for Professor Snape, my Head of House." She put emphasis on the last words, but his scowl only deepened.
"Snape, eh?" he growled. "We'll see, we'll see! Git movin' then!" She turned up her nose and swept by, but he fell in behind her instead, Mrs Norris purring along at his side. "Students oughtn't be wanderin' about..." he muttered sourly, and she quickened her pace just to spite him.
They arrived at Snape's office, and Filch banged on the door. "Professor!" he wheezed, "found one a' yers traipsin' about!"
It took longer than it should have before Snape came to the door, and he seemed even paler than usual as he towered over them. "It is not yet curfew, Mr Filch, Miss Potter need not be escorted," he told the caretaker with a sneer. "Come in, Potter."
"Thank you, sir." Ignoring Filch she stepped into Snape's office, which was much like his classroom; lit by torches and lined with shelves, and those shelves all had glass jars containing things she didn't care to think about in the dark. "I'm sorry to be so late, sir, it was today's homework," she began, standing in the middle of the room.
"No matter, Potter." He was still limping, she saw, and as he crossed the room she looked down with a gasp; there was blood in his footsteps! Looking down as well, he saw it himself and sighed. "Never mind, Potter, what did you need?"
"Sir, you're bleeding!" She crossed her arms and glared up from beneath the fringe of her hair, and for a second the resemblance to her mother was even more uncanny than usual. "You told us you were okay!"
Snape sighed again, unwilling to lie to one of his snakes. "You recall the Headmaster's warning of the third-floor corridor, yes?" She nodded tersely, not speaking. "I made the mistake of going in there myself at Halloween, fearing the troll may have started there first. It was not so far from that bathroom you were caught in, after all."
She didn't want to think about that, nor did she want to consider the three-headed dog either. "You think whoever let the troll in wanted to sneak through the corridor?" she asked, relaxing her stance slightly. "And... and you were attacked by th- by whatever's in there?"
"Yes, unfortunately I was." He had noticed her slip up, and his frown deepened. "I don't want you sneaking in there again, Potter, so listen carefully. Beyond that door is a cerberus, a three-headed hound. It will attempt to eat anyone who comes through that door, even we Professors."
"Again, sir?" she replied, a little too innocently. She coughed and hurried on. "I'll not be going in there, sir. Couldn't you go to Madam Pomfrey?"
"I am, but this is not something she could treat right away. Which is another reason you must not risk it, Potter." He limped to his desk and sat down heavily. "Now, what did you need?"
"Oh." She'd been so caught up in the mystery that she nearly forgot the whole reason she came here. "Right, well, I had a question about the homework, that potion we're researching. It says to stir clockwise seven times, but I got it mixed up and added a counterclockwise stir by accident, and it seemed to accelerate the potion's progress. Is that normal?"
"Indeed." He seemed impressed, or at least his inscrutable expression lightened very slightly. "The instructions in your school books will show the safest ways to reach the results, not necessarily the quickest or most efficient. It is not something we usually cover until later years, however, as heedless experimentation can be quite disastrous even with the relatively benign potions we have dealt with so far."
Remembering the many Longbottom incidents, Hazel suppressed a giggle. "I understand. That was all I needed, sir, thank you for your time." She bowed, and he nodded in return, and she turned to leave. "Please get better soon, sir." She left the office and went straight back to the common room, not stopping for anything. Once there she finished her homework and got ready for bed.
The rest of the week went by, and soon enough the first game was upon them. Hazel slept in for a change, did her usual routine and went to the common room, only to find Flint and most of the team waiting there. "You're up early. Where's Higgs?" she asked, taking a seat.
"Hospital wing. Brandon too." Brandon, she knew, was the team's reserve Seeker. "Attacked last night, really did a number on 'em. Snape's got McGonagall going after the Gryffindors."
"There's no way they'd have done this, they're not underhanded like we are," was her immediate response. "Trust me on that one."
"Yeah, you hang out with enough of 'em, firstie." There was no animosity to it, though. "Flint, we gotta get Potter on, we don't stand a chance otherwise."
Her heart leaped at the idea, and she struggled to keep a straight face. "That's up to Snape and Dumbledore, innit then."
As if on queue, Snape entered the common room. "Higgs and Brandon are resting, yet they will not be up for at least three days," he told the team, to many groans. "McGonagall spoke to her team and they all deny having anything to do with the attacks; I am inclined to believe them, the two are severely injured beyond what any student could accomplish. Dumbledore and I considered your request, and after conferring with Hooch, we've agreed that Potter must cover as Seeker for this match." Hazel bit off a cheer, and Flint tried not to look too happy. " Only for this match, however. First years playing on the team is still highly irregular, even if you've been training them."
"Potter didn't need much training anyway, sir. Never seen such a natural on a broom, not since Charlie Weasley." Snape nodded and left, and Flint turned to his team. "Well, ladies and gentleman, eat lightly today and be down by ten thirty! Potter, I'll see to it you have a uniform that fits." They all nodded, and feeling too keyed up to relax anymore, she went to breakfast.
She really had slept in, for Ron and Draco were at chess again. "Oi, you two. Our Seekers got hit last night, Snape said I'm up," she said in a low voice, though she was sure the news would be all over the school soon.
Sure enough, the Weasley twins thumped down on either side of Ron. "Did ya hear yet, firsties?"
"Higgs 'n Brandon were attacked last night!"
"Out of commission for days," and they shook their heads sadly. "Slytherin might have to forfeit! Easy win!"
"No we're not," she told them sharply. Usually she liked the two older boys, but today she wasn't in a mood for their rubbish. "Snape and Dumbledore said I'm to cover today!"
That caught them off guard, for about two seconds. "Well damn, bro. Looks like we're the ones who oughta forfeit, eh?"
"Not a chance, bro, lookit her. Skinny as a shrimp, she is!"
"We'll have her off her broom in no time flat!" and they both flexed ridiculously. Hazel couldn't help but giggle at the sight.
"Fred and George are the Gryffindor Beaters, Hazel," Ron explained out the side of his mouth, carefully maneuvering one of his rooks to oppose Malfoy's queen. "Look Malfoy, take my rook, it's out here all alone and helpless."
"It sure is," Malfoy smirked, rushing a bishop to knock it down and haul it off. "What? You really thought I'd risk my queen so early?"
Hazel shook her head and went to eat, explaining what happened to Blaise and Millicent as well. "You think someone's out for you, Hazel?" Blaise said darkly. "Take out Higgs and Brandon so they'd have to let you fly, try something during the match?"
"What??" It hadn't occurred to her, truly, but as it did, she was alarmed. "Who would attack two students just to get me up in the air?"
"Search me." Millicent shrugged. "We'll keep an eye out, though, count on that."
Somewhat relieved, she ate about half what she'd usually do, then ducked out to use the restroom and hope Flint had her Quidditch things ready. With an hour to go before she had to be down at the pitch she sought out Snape, and told him what Blaise had suspected. "The thought did occur to me already," he allowed, and she was glad he took her seriously. "Even if someone were after you, they'd be foolish to do it in front of the whole school, when Dumbledore and myself and the other teachers will be in attendance." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Rest assured, Miss Potter, everyone will be watching very closely. Now play hard and make us proud."
"Thank you sir." It was still too early, so she went outside and jogged about to get her blood up, then went to the pitch. Flint and the others were there already, and he handed her what was obviously a second hand uniform.
"Rush job, Potter, sorry about that," he said apologetically. "Just grab that Snitch and get it over with, alright? We've got the rest covered."
She nodded and went to change, grimacing at the overly large leather gloves and awkward boots. The rest was still too big for her, as well. "How much are we supposed to grow until next year, anyway?" she groused, walking back outside. "Flint, this won't work, I'm wearing a circus tent."
"Be glad you're not Keeper, then," he replied, pointing at the awkward full-body pads Miles Bletchley wore. He pulled his wand and waved it over her, but the robes only twitched. "Ugh, we need Hooch..."
"What's the holdup, boys?" Hooch herself barked, poking her head in. "Potter, who's rags are those?! Get over here!" The hawk-eyed woman strode over and waved her wand silently, and the uniform quickly shrank to a better fit. "Better then? Boots and gloves nice and snug?" Hazel nodded gratefully. "Right! Hit the field, let's go!"
Hazel followed the team out, clutching her broom in her hand. She had practiced for this, she was ready. "Relax, Potter," Flint muttered, "their Seeker's pants this year, those twins are the only threat. Watch those Bludgers and get the Snitch as quick as you can, got it?"
"Right, just get it over with." She was starting to dislike those words. The Captains shook hands, Hooch blew her whistle, and they were off! As usual she soared high above the rest of the game, scanning for that tiny golden shimmer. It had never taken her more than a minute in practice, but this wasn't practice...
Some Gryffindor boy was commenting, but she tuned him out, still scanning the field. She flew over the stands, and it seemed to her that Snape was watching the crowd more than the game; she felt a rush of loyalty and gratitude for the dour Potions Master, and redoubled her search. Finally she caught sight of it and thundered away, thus missing a commotion in the stands; the Gryffindor Seeker saw her and gave chase, but was too far behind, and Hazel easily snagged the little golden ball after a long, steep dive. She held it up and laughed, and the whole stadium erupted in cheers and clapping.
"That was brilliant! We only scored three times before you snagged it!" Flint cheered, pointing at the final score: 180-0. "If this keeps up, those Cups are ours for sure!" The Gryffindors came to shake hands, and though some of them were a little rough, Fred and George were already laughing it off with their usual grace, and congratulated her sincerely.
The teachers were next, and McGonagall looked a little tight-lipped but nodded all the same. "Well flown, Hazel, well flown indeed," Dumbledore said graciously. "Quite uneventful, apart from the abrupt end of the game!"
"Thank you, Headmaster!" she gushed, still riding the euphoria of victory. Snape's smirk was a bit wider than usual, and he clapped her on the shoulder. "Did... did anything happen, Professor?"
"Apart from Quirrell, no," he replied, rolling his eyes. "He should go back to Muggle Studies, that one. Some of the students thought they saw something off in the Forest, you see, and they knocked him over in their haste to go see. I fear he hit his head."
"Hmm." She still despised Quirrell; his lessons had never improved, and the smell and headaches had only gotten worse as the year went by. And whenever their eyes met her scar hurt, though not so badly as that first time. "Well, it's cold out here, sir, and I'd like to see Hagrid this afternoon." She went to the locker rooms and changed into her robes, waved to the others and set off toward his hut. "Snape said someone saw something toward the Forest?" she asked.
"Yeah, that was Weasley." Draco looked flushed and his hair was out of place, as if he'd been flying. No doubt her own wild mane was even worse. "Went mental, he did! Knocked that Quirrell over and everything!"
"I hope I gave him a concussion," Ron said smugly, and it was a mark of how ill-favored Quirrell was that Hermione didn't defend him. "Useless git!"
"Well, what did you see?" Hazel insisted, flicking the bangs out of her eyes.
"Oh yeah. Looked like a dog, big black one."
They arrived at the hut, but no one was there, only Fang barking madly as Ron pounded on the door. "OI! Git away from there yeh- oh, s' you lot." Hagrid had been at the game too, apparently. "What yeh doin' then? Oughta be up celebratin', shouldn' yeh?"
"We've got nothing to celebrate," Ron replied glumly. "Look Hagrid, we saw something by the Forest, okay? We wanted to ask you about it."
Hagrid muttered into his beard, but unlocked the door and let them in anyway. "Bin hearin' lotsa things, 'Azel, sounds like yer havin' fun," he said over his shoulder as he started tea and set some rock cakes out.
"They go down better if you soak them first," Hazel whispered to the other three as they took seats. "It's been a lot of fun, Hagrid, all the teachers except Quirrell are great."
"Ar, that ruddy git." He put the tea out and poured them all cups, and they dunked a rock cake before sipping. "Did Muggle Studies 'fore Defense, did'jeh know 'at?"
That was familiar, but Hazel didn't care about Quirrell right then. "Sure, Hagrid. Look, Ron said he saw a big black dog down here by the Forest, does that sound familiar?"
"Big bla- naw, Ron, yer mad," Hagrid replied, chuckling. "Fluffy's all locked up at th' castle, safe 'n sound."
Fluffy? They all exchanged looks until Draco gasped. "Wait! That huge beast in the corridor is named Fluffy? "
"Sure! He's mine, inn'e?" Hagrid said defensively. "Bought him offa some Greek fella a few years back, an' then Dumbledore asked if 'e could help guard th'-" But he cut himself off awkwardly and fumbled for a rock cake.
"Yes? He's guarding the what, Hagrid?" Hazel demanded heatedly, tea and cakes forgotten.
"Oh Hagrid, that's really dangerous!" Hermione moaned, twisting her fingers. "Cerberi are impossible to tame, I've read about them! The only thing that can keep them docile is music, and-"
"Oi now, never ya mind!" Hagrid insisted, thumping the table with his mug. "What's down there's nothin' fer students ter worry 'bout!"
"Someone's already tried stealing it, you oaf!" Malfoy yelled, shooting to his feet. "That troll that got loose and nearly killed Hazel and Hermione, it was a distraction while they tried to sneak in!"
"Yer mad, Malfoy!" Hagrid grunted. "Yer all mad, now jus' ferget it, it's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel-"
" Nicolas Flamel?? " they all echoed, and Hagrid looked furious with himself.
Notes:Full disclosure, I'm sort of writing by the seat of my pants. Even with the book to help out, Hazel insists on doing some things out of order. All I can do is tell her story the way SHE wants it told.
Chapter 11: The Mirror of ErisedSummary:Christmas descends upon Hogwarts. Hazel gets presents and spends time with her friends, and makes a few crucial discoveries.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextNovember bled into December, and literally overnight Hogwarts turned to hard winter as the lake froze over completely and several feet of snow fell. The dungeons were colder than ever, and the windows so frosty that not even the weak green light could pierce through, not that the ice covering the lake would have allowed it anyway. Hazel heard about the Weasley twins getting in trouble for bewitching snowballs to smash themselves against the back of Quirrell's head, disturbing his turban and sending him into hysterics. Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn spent every morning looking after the owls who managed to fly through the stormy skies, nursing them back to health for the return journeys.
Quirrell was as useless as ever, and the day Hazel realized she was learning more about Defense Against the Dark Arts by herself than from anything that man ever taught, was the day she decided they would take things into their own hands. She started pestering older Slytherins about previous Defense teachers and what they taught, and after classes asked Snape for his advice in the matter as well. Nobody seemed surprised, except that it was a firstie taking such initiative, and as she learned more she started going over things with Hermione and Draco. She laughed aloud when she realized they were doing lesson plans, but it was too late to stop. When that wasn't on she was looking for any sign of Nicolas Flamel, which was hampered by the fact they had to do it carefully. Their only real lead was in Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card:
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.
"So Flamel's an alchemist," Hazel said thoughtfully, tapping the card against her palm one afternoon in the library. "I suppose I could ask him directly, say I saw the name here..."
"I don't know, Hazel, that might be a bit risky, you saw how Hagrid acted," Hermione replied nervously. "Let me check something..." She got up and went through the stacks, coming back with an enormous old book. "It's in here, I know it is, I just know it..." Feverishly she flipped through the pages until she saw what she wanted. "Yes! See, right here!" and she turned the book around so Hazel and the boys could read the passage.
"Philosopher's Stone, eh," Hazel mused. "Immortality, Elixir of Life..."
"To hell with that, this thing makes unlimited gold!" Draco whispered excitedly.
"Yeah, and if you make too much the market's gonna fall out," Ron shot back. "Still though, you think this Stone thing is what's down there?"
"Yes! It makes perfect sense!" Hazel insisted, though she stopped and ducked as Madam Pince went swooping irritably by. "All the secrecy and security, right? That mad dog, whatever else is down there... It's got to be it!"
"Hazel, if we could figure out it's even there, what do you think a more experienced witch or wizard could do?" Hermione countered. "Professor Snape is right, we should just leave it be!"
She knew the other girl was right, but her mind wouldn't leave it alone. She had to at least warn Dumbledore that it wasn't as safe as he thought it was. So that evening after dinner, she waved at Dumbledore and hurried to catch up. "Good evening, Headmaster," she said politely, bowing.
"Hazel, my dear, lovely to see you," the old man replied cheerfully, smiling down at her. "To what do I owe this inestimable pleasure?"
"Well..." The man's flattery made her turn red, but she plowed on. "Your Chocolate Frog cards," and she pulled hers out and showed it to him. "I was curious about Nicolas Flamel? That's a French name, right?"
"Indeed it is, my dear." He seemed to be regarding her more closely now, though she couldn't say why as his expression didn't change. "Perhaps we can speak in my office?" He led the way through the castle to a door guarded by two gargoyles. "Lemon drops!" he said, and they sprang aside as the door opened. Up a moving staircase they went, and he showed her into his office; fragile silver instruments were everywhere, and the wall was lined with portraits of snoozing witches and wizards. Dumbledore conjured a squashy chair for Hazel, and settled in behind his desk with a sigh. "So, Nicolas Flamel... may I inquire as to your real interest in my friend, Hazel?"
"Er..." How had he seen through her so fast? It was best to tell the truth. "I'm sorry, Professor, but my friends and I have been looking into that third-floor corridor..." She started from the beginning, describing their meeting with Fluffy, and Hagrid's misspoken hints, Snape's insistence that there was nothing there, to their theories about someone trying to steal it. "I know how it sounds, sir, but... but it's the Philosopher's Stone, right? Gringotts was broken into the same day I saw Hagrid, and the troll, and..."
"And so you saw fit to warn me that the Stone wasn't safe?" he surmised, still smiling gently, passing no judgment whatsoever.
"Yes sir, exactly." She was relieved that he understood. "If it can't leave the school, then could you put more security on it, or..."
"Rest assured, Hazel, the Stone is quite safe." He leaned back and steepled his hands. "We're not so simple as to rely merely on a dog, no matter how many heads it may have, hm? What other measures may be down there are not a subject for discussion, dear girl."
"Yes sir." Dumbledore wasn't so bad, she thought, not quite as mad as she'd thought. "Sir, I... I'm not after the Stone, sir, I promise. Wouldn't know what to do with it anyway, you know?" A hard line formed over her eyes. "I want to be famous by myself, not by what others did for me. Sir."
"Most admirable, it is plain to see why you were placed in Slytherin." He glanced at the clock on the wall and shook his head sadly. "Alas, time gets away from us. You surely have homework to do, hm?" He twinkled at her, and she smiled back as she stood. "Come by any time, Hazel, my door is always open."
"Yes sir, thank you sir." She bowed and turned away, heading back down the magic staircase and back to the common room. Her friends intercepted her first, though.
"So, how'd it go with the old bat?" Draco drawled.
"Guys, we don't have to worry," she told them, sounding relieved as she related what she'd learned. "Dumbledore has it under control, it sounds like."
"That's a relief!" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, we've got enough to worry about already..."
Which was true. Their teachers were determined to pack as many lessons and homework as possible into the remaining weeks before Christmas break. Even Quirrell seemed to feel some urgency at last, giving them lessons on werewolves and how to treat their bites, how to recognize them from regular wolves. "Though if one's coming at you, you're not gonna stop and look at its forearms, are you? Gonna get the ruddy hell out, rather..." Hazel muttered, and her classmates giggled quietly. It still stank, of course.
The Heads of House had gone about taking names for those who would remain over the holidays, and Hazel signed up at once, having no desire to return to Privet Drive even for a few weeks. Most of the Slytherins were going home, and Draco had invited her to his manor, but she didn't want to deal with his Death Eater parents so had refused. Millicent and Tracey Davis were staying, though, and Theo Nott as well. Later she learned Ron and the other Weasleys were also staying on, since Arthur and Molly had a trip to Romania planned. She put a few galleons in the post to get some things for the others, and as an afterthought she scribbled a note for the Dursleys wishing them a happy Christmas and letting them know not to expect her. Not having to see each other would be present enough in that regard, she figured.
The Great Hall was in fine form on the last day before break, with twelve massive fur trees Hagrid dragged in by hand, and then heavily decorated by the teachers. "Bet you'll regret leaving now, eh?" she asked Hermione, staring up in wonder at the snowy ceiling.
"And leave my parents all alone? I couldn't, Hazel, I'm sorry." Hazel just shrugged and waved it off; she'd have enough fun with the Weasleys at least.
It turned out to be the best Christmas holiday she'd ever had. Everyone lined up by House on the lawns outside for massive snowball fights, launching colored snowballs by hand or wand at everyone else. Hazel was reminded of paintball, and quite thoroughly enjoyed herself during the four-way battles. Lunch came and they all went back for sandwiches and hot chocolate, then it was back to snowballs until it got too dark to see anymore and their teachers had to break it up. All the colors had ran together and everyone was the same sort of sticky rainbow mess, and for a few moments they all felt truly united to her.
Christmas morning came, and weirdly enough she had a pile of presents at the foot of her bed. "Those can't all be for me," she muttered sleepily after fumbling for her glasses.
"They're not on anyone else's bed," Millicent called over, already halfway through her pile.
"Cheers, Millicent." She opened them one by one: a rough wooden flute from Hagrid, which had a note like an owl hooting; a stiffly formal note and a half-pence piece from the Dursleys, which she reckoned Ron would get a kick out of; a hand-knit green sweater with a lumpy grey snake and a box of fudge from Mrs Weasley, which she pulled on at once to ward off the chill she was imagining from the ice-cold lake around them; a homework and study planner from Hermione; Blaise had sent a large package of Italian chocolates, and Draco had sent her fancy earrings, which she wasn't sure what to think about. "My ears aren't even pierced!" she exclaimed, holding the emerald-studded silver snake earrings up.
"Oh god, is that from one of the boys?" Tracey Davis rolled her eyes. "Don't wear them, or people will get the wrong idea. Boys, honestly..."
"Wrong idea? What, that I belong to him?" Hazel shuddered and put the earrings back in the box. "Boys are all prats. We should get each other something and they'll leave us alone."
"I wouldn't mind belonging to the Girl Who Lived," Millicent giggled, and that had them all falling over laughing. After that they got ready and went out to breakfast, Hazel proudly wearing her new Weasley sweater.
"Oi, you got one too! Brilliant!" one of the twins called, waving her over as they walked into the Great Hall. She giggled and went for the Gryffindor table, and was surrounded by the four Weasleys in short order; as she suspected they were delighted by the weird Muggle coin, and she let them have it without a second thought. Breakfast was a riotous affair as the twins pulled crackers with everyone, and she soon found herself a fresh pile of party favors to sort through. After that was another snowball fight, and then a truly spectacular feast of over a hundred roasted turkeys and so many desserts she felt she'd get lost. Houses didn't seem to matter, everyone was seated wherever they pleased; looking up at the staff table, it was clear most of them had been indulging in the wine, and she giggled happily.
They were back outside when Hedwig came soaring out of the sky, a last minute package in her beak. "Oi, I'm out!" she called, clutching the package as Hedwig fluttered to her shoulder. "Hang on tight, girl." She ran back to the castle, and luckily saw Snape leaving the Great Hall. "Professor!" she called, dashing up to him. "I, um, here! Happy Christmas!" She'd gotten him a new set of potion tools, knives and pestles and scales and things, mostly made of silver except where a specialty tool needed some other substance.
"Oh, thank you, Potter." He seemed as happy as he ever was. "I see you're enjoying yourself?"
"Yes sir, I am!" she gushed back. "Best Christmas ever!"
"Indeed." He looked around, then beckoned her closer. "The Headmaster and I had one more present for you," and he handed her a shapeless package in silver wrapping paper. "Sort of a family heirloom, it belongs to you anyway. Don't get caught, Potter, and don't tell anyone you have it. The snake is a subtle and careful creature, is it not? Happy Christmas." He turned and went away, leaving her feeling very confused.
But she gave Hedwig some bacon rinds and sent her back to the Owlery Tower, then proceeded to her dorm, making sure she was alone before opening the mystery parcel. Inside was a cloak, made of some ephemeral substance she couldn't identify; she went before the mirror and threw it around her shoulders, gasping when her body disappeared! She fumbled for the hood and then she was completely invisible! "Brilliant...!" Shrugging out of it she noticed a piece of paper falling from the folds; it seemed to be a note, in spidery cursive writing:
Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.
A Very Merry Christmas to you
It was unsigned, and she wondered who had possessed it before. The Headmaster, probably? She doubted Snape would hold on to anything of her father's, especially something so useful for mischief as this. And even if it was hers, why pass it on now? What did they think an eleven-year-old kid would do with a thing like this?
...what WAS she going to do with it? She remembered what Hermione had said about cerberi being weak to music, and Hagrid had sent her a flute... "Ugh," she muttered, clutching her head for a second. A feeling of being used was creeping over her, and she wasn't sure she liked it. But what else could it mean? The flute and the cloak, all in one night? Someone meant her to get past that dog, to try and get the Stone. It was suicide to break into that corridor alone, she knew, but if nothing else she could scout it out. Plan in mind she stuck cloak and flute beneath her robes, made sure she had her wand and slipped away through the common room. Everyone was still outside, and she hoped the teachers would be distracted with whatever holiday affairs they had going on.
When she was nearly there she pulled the cloak out and threw it on, creeping forward until the door was in sight. "Alohomora!" she whispered, tapping the knob; it clicked open and she slipped through, making as little noise as possible. The hulking Fluffy stirred in his sleep, snuffling suspiciously at the door, and she froze, wondering if the cloak hid scent as well. The dog growled and started rising, and that gave her the answer; quickly she held the flute out and started blowing random notes, and immediately the creature slipped back to the floor, dozing away. She paused to draw breath, and even in that small break it twitched and grumbled, and she hastily blew into it again. No way was she getting by alone, that trapdoor looked too heavy even if she could stop playing long enough to get at it.
Slowly she backed out, and quietly shut the door behind her. A rustling in the hall beyond made her gasp and turn, and she saw Filch shambling her way, a lantern held high. "Who's there?" he demanded, squinting toward the door. "Students messin' with the forbidden corridor! I'll have ya expelled, I will!"
Heart in her throat, Hazel moved as quickly and quietly the other way as she could, leaving Filch to stumble around the locked door. When she thought it was safe she took off running, and was forced to detour when Peeves came zooming up the hall. "Someone there?" he chanted, giggling and twirling. "Creepsy kidsies, weepsie keepsies!" He cackled again and knocked a suit of armor over before zooming out of sight, and quite losing all sense of herself Hazel dashed off in any direction, through random stairs and passages until she found a classroom door left ajar. She ran to it, slipped inside and shut the door, willing her heart to stop racing so she could calm down.
Only then did she look around, and notice the classroom wasn't empty. Desks and tables were shoved to one side, and the far wall was dominated by a very tall mirror, nearly as high as the ceiling in fact. The frame appeared to be gold, and words were carved into the upper frame: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Curious, she approached the mirror itself, letting the cloak fall from her shoulders as she went. For a few seconds she saw only herself, young and nervous and excited. Then two other people appeared, standing behind her; a man and a woman. The woman was very pretty, with dark red hair and a sad smile, and her eyes... Hazel had to blink and rub her own for a second, for the woman's eyes were just like hers! Like a sister or something.
The man, standing at her side, wore glasses, and he had messy black hair just like hers. She could see bits of herself in his face, she seemed to share a jawline with him for instance. She had seen them before, but this was no tiny picture… "Mom? Dad?" she whispered, but the couple in the mirror only smiled sadly and waved. She looked at herself and gasped; her reflection showed, not a girl, but a woman, tall and powerful, with a confident smirk that dared anyone to look at her sideways. She wore a sleeveless green dress, and her thick black hair was shaved on one side in a sidecut; the rest fell elegantly down her back in sleek waves. She held a wand, just like hers, in a careless and easy grip, and she definitely didn't have a child's body either; that was the form of a Woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.
"That's me," she whispered, and realized that her parents' tears were tears of pride, and happiness in seeing their daughter grown up and powerful, ready to face the world with ambition and courage. Hazel was transfixed by the sight, and lost track of time staring back at it. Only a distant noise brought her back to her senses, and she reluctantly reached for the cloak again. "I'll... I'll be back," she told the reflection, donning the cloak and striding from the room. She got back to her dorm without incident, and slept very badly, haunted by the reflections she had seen.
Notes:Fun fact, Chapter 11 was about twice as long in my draft as what I'm posting now, so I split it up and here's the first bit. See you for the second bit!
Chapter 12: Fumbling with the ForbiddenSummary:Time marches on, and so too does the drama. Hazel is exempt from neither of these truths, and comes closer than ever to dying.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe next day she slept very late, and was irritable and withdrawn when she finally did rise up. "No, I don't feel well," she told the others when they badgered her for another snowball fight, and she went back to her dorm and curled up in bed after eating. She knew that approaching the mirror in the daytime would be unwise, though she wasn't sure how.
That evening at dinner, she had to put up with Ron's concern. "You still feeling shit, Hazel?" he asked, dripping from head to toe.
"Yeah... been eating too much..." That was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it, and Ron knew it, and the disbelieving snorts told her everyone else around knew it too. She scowled and made herself eat some more, when all she really wanted was to go back to that mirror...
What would Ron see? she wondered out of nowhere. The same vision of herself as an adult? After dinner she snagged him before he could leave. "Ron, grab your wand and meet me by that statue of the hunchbacked wizard on the fourth floor, ten minutes after curfew tonight. I wanna show you something..."
"Um, that's..." They were friends, but sneaking out with someone from another House was highly risky. "...how about on the sixth floor, by that landscape painting below the West Tower?" She couldn't see how it made a difference where they met, but she could sneak around easier than he could, so she agreed and let him go on.
A few hours later she left the Slytherin common room, wand and cloak beneath her robes, and pulled the cloak over her as the clocks struck nine. When she arrived at the landscape painting she saw Ron standing behind a huge vase, looking very nervous. "Ron," she whispered, and he started, fumbling for his wand. "Ron! Stop being a prat, it's me!" She came up beside him and pushed his wand down. "I've got an invisibility cloak, now shut the hell up, get underneath and let's go ." Ignoring his protests she held the cloak open so he could duck underneath, then grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along.
"Hazel, where'd you get this thing?" he whispered, feeling the fabric between his fingers. "It's amazing! It-"
"-used to belong to my father, now shut up , I said!" she hissed back, forcing them to the wall as Peeves flittered by. "It only makes us invisible, not inaudible!"
"Bet there's a spell for that," he muttered, and while there probably was, it wasn't the time to mess around. It took longer than it should have but they reached the empty classroom, and she threw the cloak off once the door was shut.
"Colloportus!" she whispered, flicking her wand and tapping the knob, and the door sealed itself with a slight squelch. "There, now come on, over here." She hurried to the Mirror and stood before it, and sure enough, the grownup Hazel Potter appeared before her, proud parents just behind. "See? There's me, as an adult, and there are my parents!"
"What? It's just you, Hazel, what are you talking about?"
"Well, you stand there then!" and she jerked him in front of the mirror. "There, can you see us now?"
"N-No... it's just me... but I- I'm older, and I've got the Quidditch Cup! And I'm Head Boy!" He turned shining eyes on her and grinned widely. "I'm better than all my brothers, this is brilliant, Hazel!" and he went back to staring hungrily into the glass.
"Hmm. Okay, budge up, I wanna see myself again," and she tried pushing him aside, but he fought back.
"Come on, you had all last night! Give me a bit longer!"
"Move over, you prat! No one cares abou-!"
A noise from the halls outside made them both freeze, and Ron came to his senses first. He grabbed the cloak and threw it about them both, and they could hear a cat pawing and meowing outside. "That's Mrs Norris! If she gets Filch and they find this room magically locked we're done for!" he hissed, pulling her toward the door. She knew he was right and went with him, but her heart ached to see herself again.
They unlocked the door and pattered away, ears alert for any sign of danger. "You think that mirror shows the future?" Ron whispered excitedly as they made for the sixth floor painting again.
"The future? No way, I saw my parents and they're dead," Hazel hissed back, wishing she'd left Ron behind. Once they reached the painting, they paused behind the vase. "You can make it from here okay?"
"Yeah, yeah... Hazel, look, don't go back there." He seemed serious for once, hesitating beneath the cloak. "I don't know what that mirror really does, but you were pining after it all day, right? You weren't sick at all, were you?"
"Er... no, Ron, you're right." She hated admitting it, but he was. Even with the cloak, there was no telling what sort of things haunted Hogwarts at night, not to mention Filch and Mrs Norris. "I'll probably knock a pot over or something, huh?"
"Yeah, exactly." He seemed relieved, and pulled the cloak aside to get out of it. "Well, thanks for showing me that, Hazel, whatever it was. See you tomorrow."
"See you. Don't tell anyone about the cloak, okay?" She walked back to her own dorm with a smile, though. She hadn't specifically promised not to go back to the mirror, had she?
The next day she was in a better mood, stuffed her face as usual and had a rousing series of battles in the snow outside the castle. And later that night when everyone else was asleep she stole away under the cloak to the mirror once again, eager to sit and admire herself for hours on end. Until-
"Back again, Hazel?"
Heart leaping to her throat she spun about, wand already in hand. But it was only Dumbledore. "Headmaster," she gasped, trembling with sudden shame. "I, um..."
"Be at ease, my dear," he said with a smile, rising from the desk he was leaning on. "So. You, like countless others, have fallen for the snare of the Mirror of Erised."
"Is that what it's called, sir?" she replied, looking up at the inscription. Erised, of course. "I'm not sure what it does yet. Ron Weasley and I saw ourselves as adults..."
"Yes, but where Mr Weasley saw himself alone, holding accolades and honors he covets, your reflection was slightly different, no?" There was no judgment, only the kindly smile he always wore.
"Um. Yes sir, I see my parents, but they're proud of me, and I'm older, and powerful and strong and beautiful..."
"Not an unobtainable desire, wouldn't you say?"
"No sir, I suppose not..." She wanted to stand before the glass even now, but didn't dare move yet. "It's just... from here, I mean..."
"You are quite lucky, Hazel. Many would stand here and waste away, staring into the empty glass, thirsting for a phantom that could never be. Driven to madness, even, not knowing if what they saw was real or imagined or even possible."
Hazel thought about that. "So it shows you what you truly want? Beyond anything else in the world?" It made sense to her now. She saw herself as she wanted to be, strong enough to take the world apart, while the parents she had never known looked on with pride and acceptance of her Slytherin nature. Ron, forever in his family's shadow, saw himself alone and apart, the best Weasley of them all. "What do you see, sir?"
"I? I see myself holding a lovely pair of heavy socks," he replied with a sigh. "One can never have enough socks, yet people always think I need more books."
She stared up at him, wanting to laugh at how ridiculous it sounded, and he twinkled back. "The Mirror will be moved tomorrow, Hazel. I ask that you do not seek it out again; it will be in a much more secure location. Should you ever encounter the Mirror again, you will be ready for what you see."
"Yes sir." She glanced at the mirror again, but knowing now what its powers were, she had no more wish to dwell before it. "I couldn't even begin to reach that kind of level just sitting here anyway, could I?"
"Indeed not, my dear, indeed not. I suggest you put that excellent Cloak back on and return to your dormitory, hm?"
"Yes sir, good night sir." She swung the cloak over her shoulders and walked away, not looking back or stopping even once.
Her old nightmares returned as the holidays went on, and now that she knew her parents' faces more clearly they were that much more vivid. She was glad when term was about to start again, because it meant everyone was back and she could tell Draco and Hermione about what had happened, in their study group while reviewing Defensive jinxes and Dark creatures.
"An invisibility cloak?" Draco said, eyes wide in surprise. "Damn, Hazel, those aren't exactly a sickle a dozen, are they?"
"I think Ron was right about that Mirror, Hazel, you shouldn't look for it again. You were so lucky to get away with wandering about at night!" Hermione fretted, pulling at her fingers.
They had little time to worry about it anyway. Classes were back, and as usual there was a tide of homework and lessons to worry about, not to mention Quidditch practice. Their study group was hugely useful at this time, for the others anyway; there were evenings Hazel wanted nothing more than to go to bed early, after a long, hot shower. Quidditch in particular, while still satisfying and visceral in all the right ways, was exceptionally muddy and wet as February rolled onward. Slytherin played well, and Hazel was glad they were the clear favorites even though she wasn't allowed to fly. Whatever nervous tic afflicted Quirrell seemed to be getting worse; he was more nervous and jumpy than ever before, and absent from class so often that Hazel and Hermione had openly taken over after stealing the man's notes. Rumor had it he was close to being sacked, and that made everyone more cheerful.
The day of the most important game was up, Slytherin against Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw didn't stand a chance, and suffered their worst loss in fifty years; Hazel clapped and screamed along with everyone else, and looked up at where Snape was sitting to laugh at his thin attempts to hide how pleased he was. "Look, Draco, the Professor's smiling!" she cried, elbowing the boy in the side and pointing. Just one more match to go, and that wasn't until June!
Much later, halfway through a long and raucous dinner, Hazel looked up to see Snape and Quirrell having a furious discussion at the head table. It was too far away for her to hear, obviously, and she frowned as Quirrell shot to his feet and stormed out of the Great Hall. She caught Snape's eye and raised an eyebrow back at him, but he merely shook his head and tapped his wrist twice. Quite confused, she finished her plate and milk and got up, hurrying away herself to the dormitory to get her cloak. Returning to the entrance hall, she saw Snape standing by the doors and approached him. "Professor, what were you and Quirrell talking about?"
"Nothing that need concern you, Potter." He was his usual terse self, she noticed with a concealed sigh. "I am going to patrol the grounds now, I'd better not see anyone else out there until I get back. Understand?"
She hadn't missed the slight emphasis on 'see', and nodded gravely. "I understand sir, shall I pass the word along?"
"Not a bad idea, Potter, now if you'll excuse me..." They nodded to each other, and Snape left the building while Hazel ran back to get Draco, Ron and Hermione. Minutes later, all four of them under the cloak, they hurried after Snape, moving as fast as they could through the mud. Though as late as it was, they hardly needed it.
"He's heading for the Forest!" Draco hissed, and she could tell he was going to panic. "You said Quirrell left earlier?"
"They aren't meeting out here, are they?" Hermione whispered. "Oh, this is impossible, put the cloak away Hazel..." The trees were closing in, making the cloak hard to wear, so she gathered it off and stowed it away. "Come on, we're falling behind!"
"Be careful, he doesn't want to see us!" But they hurried as best they could, and Hazel was sure Snape could hear them, but it didn't seem to matter. Eventually they came to a clearing, and Quirrell was waiting there. "I knew it..."
"Odd p-place for a meeting, Severus," the twitchy man stammered, not meeting Snape's eyes.
"I didn't want to be overheard," Snape replied in an icy tone. "The Philosopher's Stone is meant to be a secret, after all. Now have you found out anything about that beastly dog yet??"
"Of c-course not! Why would I-?"
"Don't play games, Quirrell! You've been wasting time all year, you aren't even teaching properly! The students have had to teach themselves!" The four of them looked at each other in wonder, though Hazel reckoned they hadn't kept it a secret exactly. "You don't want me as an enemy..."
"Of c-course not!" Quirrell shot back. "I have no idea what y- AUGH!"
Snape's hand had shot out, seized Quirrell's left forearm and was bending it backward. "You can't hide this from me, Quirrell, I know who you truly serve," he whispered, so that the students had to creep closer. "My patience is running out! Tell me what you know!"
"S-Severus, p-please!" He was desperately trying to pull free of that vice-like grip. "I don't-! I haven't-!"
"Pah!" Snape threw the man off. "This isn't over, Quirrell! We'll talk again soon!" Quirrell ran off, muttering to himself, though Hazel thought he was going the wrong direction if he wanted to go back to the castle. Snape stood there for several moments, then shook his head. "Come out, you four."
Hazel and her friends left their hiding spots and approached Snape. "Quirrell wasn't heading back to the castle, sir, but deeper into the Forest," she told him.
"Indeed." In the darkness, their teacher seemed thoughtful. "Weasley, go get Hagrid. He knows this forest better than anyone else, his protection will be invaluable." The gangly redhead nodded and dashed off, but hardly was he out of sight than Hagrid and Fang came into view, Hagrid with his large crossbow.
"Professor," Hagrid said, while Fang jumped all over Draco and Hazel. "No one tol' me there was a detention tonigh'?"
"This is no detention, Hagrid. Professor Quirrell has gone missing, these four were there when he ran off. We cannot have him getting lost in the forest."
"Righ', righ'... eh, s' a good thing yer all here, been nasty business out here lately. Somethin's attackin' the unicorns..." He looked over all of them thoughtfully. "Alrigh', listen up. Ron, 'Ermione, yer wi' me 'n Fang. Malfoy, 'Azel, yer wi' Professor Snape 'ere. Yeh fin' Quirrell 'r anyfin else, send up green sparks; git inter trouble, red sparks. Practice righ' now, real quick..." One by one, the four students sent up green and red sparks. "Arr, tha's it. Now le's go."
Before they could start, however, Fang stopped slobbering all over Draco and perked up, growling at something in the darkness. Whatever it was growled back, and a great black dog loped into view. "Hey, it's you!" Hazel exclaimed, lowering her wand and approaching the dog. "Hey boy, where ya been?"
But the dog backed away from her, even though he was three times her size, and ran in circles, whining and barking. "Fella wants us ter follow 'im," Hagrid guessed, earning an excited bark. "Easy, Professor, this'n's been hangin' abou' fer a few, he's alrigh'. Okay, ferget splittin' up, follow tha' dog!"
"You know that creature, Miss Potter?" Snape asked as they crept through the forest, wands alight before them.
"Yes, he used to come by Privet Drive years ago," she replied happily, "but I only got to pet him once. I'm sure it's him, he's got the exact same nicked ears the other dog had!" She failed to notice the thoughtful expression on Snape's face as they kept going, but he said nothing more about it.
Soon, they started seeing silvery stains on the ground, which shortly became puddles. "Lights out," Hagrid whispered, and they all extinguished their wands. It was very, very dark now. "Professor, put yer hand on me belt, there, Malfoy you take 'is arm 'n the rest a' yeh chain up by yer shoulders." Shortly they were in a human chain, and they crept onward, trusting to the dogs to guide the way.
Then, in a clearing, they saw it. A unicorn, badly wounded, bleeding from several deep gashes. It was thrashing weakly, hooves pawing at the air. "No..." Hazel and Hermione said at the same time, struck dumb at the monstrousness of such a creature being brought down. Then, to their horror, a dark shape prowled from the trees, knelt by the dying beast, and began to drink its blood.
Several things happened at once: Hagrid roared and fired his crossbow at the shadow; Snape began firing curses; both dogs howled and charged; and as the shape looked up and began dodging, Hazel's scar seared with pain, causing her to cry out and stumble against a tree. The others were shouting and firing curses and jinxes, she was dimly aware of her friends clustered around her, but all she knew was pain, and more pain, like her head was going to split open. All she could do was clutch her head and scream...
When the pain finally faded and she opened her eyes, everyone was crowded around her. "What happened?" she croaked, wincing at how sore her throat was.
"That thing... drank its blood..." Ron whispered, looking horrified. "What kind of..."
"Someone with nothing to lose, and everything to gain," Snape replied grimly. "Tell me, what are the uses of unicorn blood?" They all gave him a confused look. "The only use for unicorn blood is in foul Dark magic, because the act of slaying a unicorn, something so pure and innocent, will sentence you to a cursed half-life. To drink its blood will keep you alive, even from the brink of death... but the price to pay is considered far, far too high by many."
"That thing thought otherwise, whatever it was..." Ron murmured. He looked quite ill, Hermione merely horrified and confused.
Hazel struggled to her feet. "Sir... Professor... I think that was Quirrell," she said, leaning against Hermione. "No, listen! He's been sick all year, right, and lately it's getting worse, right? And there's the Philosopher's Stone up at the school, he knows about it." She looked at Snape. "And you know he knows, sir, that's what you were interrogating him over earlier. He must think that whatever price to pay for drinking unicorn blood is worth paying if he can get the Stone later!"
"Very good, Potter." Snape sounded pleased, as much as one could in this situation. "We had not dreamed he would go this far... you are all in terrible danger. Hagrid, you said other unicorns have been attacked already?"
"Aye, though none slain 'til jus' then," the giant man replied grimly. "Ruddy git, knew there were somethin' off abou' him..."
"We all did." Ron had shaken off his disgust and now looked angry. "That man was useless, Professor, we've had to teach ourselves!"
"I know." Snape wasn't looking at them, though. "By all accounts you are doing a fine job of it. Now come, we must get back to the castle." They all lit their wands and went back the way they came, Fang prowling alongside Hagrid.
Hazel noticed the other dog had disappeared. "Say, where'd that black dog go?"
"I think it went after Quirrell," Hermione replied. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Hazel, it had to be a magical creature."
"Mm." They fell silent after that, until they reached the edge of the forest. "What happens now, Professor?"
"Now you will return to your dormitories, all of you," Snape replied, reverting to his usual terse manner. "Hagrid and I must report at once to the Headmaster about what we have learned. Rest assured, Quirrell will not set foot on these grounds any further."
"What's going on here?" came McGonagall's voice as they stepped through the front doors. "It's past curf- Hagrid? Severus?"
"Easy, Minerva, they were with me." Snape's voice was urgent. "You must take these two to their common room immediately, and then we must all speak to Dumbledore."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible until tomorrow at lunch time, at the earliest," she explained, "the Headmaster had to leave for London on urgent Ministry business."
"Damn." Snape looked furious. "Well, we must hope the protections around the Stone will hold, then. There is very strong evidence Quirrell will make an attempt on it, possibly tonight."
To her credit, McGonagall did not look one bit surprised. "I presume this is why you were all out in the Forbidden Forest at this hour?" Ron and Hermione told her what they had seen, and her lips thinned. "I shall send an owl after the Headmaster as soon as you two are safe in your dormitories. You should take Potter to safety as well, Professor Snape."
"What about Mal-?" Hazel realized two things at once; Draco was gone, and so was her invisibility cloak.
Notes:Good news, I've finished the rough draft of Year 2, and will spend some time reviewing and picking over it for stuff. Gonna take a break before starting on Year 3, I hope you guys are still here by then!
Chapter 13: The Truth About Professor QuirrellSummary:Believe it or not, Hazel Potter is still alive. But at least one other person will not be enjoying that distinction much longer.
Also, you know how this story is tagged with Graphic Depictions of Violence and Canonical Character Death? Were you waiting for the part where people die? Well guess what: THIS IS THAT PART.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextMcGonagall did something with her wand, and the doors slammed shut. Then she held it straight outward, pointing seemingly at nothing. "Piertotum Locomotor!" she cried; Hazel felt an intense tingling all through her body, a sure sign of incredibly powerful magic, and Hazel saw the suits of armor at the edge of the hall come to life while countless metallic crashes and clangs echoed all through the school! "Find Quirinus Quirrell!" McGonagall cried, and the walking armors jumped to it. "Rescue Draco Malfoy!" Flitwick and Sprout came running into the hall, dressed in night robes and clutching their wands. "Every student to their common rooms! I want prefects and teachers on high alert! One of our own has turned against us!"
Snape turned to Hazel, Ron and Hermione as a deep gong rang from the very stone beneath their feet. "Where did Malfoy go?! He was right behind us!"
"Sir, my cloak is missing too!" Hazel shouted over the noise. "Quirrell's heading for the Stone and he's got Draco!"
"We're coming, you can't stop us!" Hermione insisted loudly, Ron nodding fiercely at her side.
"Very well, one person can't get through anyway," Snape replied quickly. "Come, all of you!" He and McGonagall exchanged looks, then the four of them took off for the third-floor corridor. "I'm sure you've figured out how to get around the dog?!"
"Yes, cerberi are weak to music, it puts them to sleep!" Hazel gasped, thankful that a year of Quidditch training had kept her in shape. Ron was just behind her, and Hermione the bookworm did her best to keep up.
They were at the locked door, Hermione gasping for breath and clutching her side. A swipe of Snape's wand had the door open in a flash, and they crowded inside. "No!" "We're too late!" "Damn him!" Fluffy twitched at the far end, covered in burns and bleeding heavily. "We promised Hagrid...!" Shaking his head Snape ran to the open trapdoor and flung himself down it, and the three students swiftly followed. "Light your wands!" Snape was shouting, "and don't panic at the bottom!" They landed with a whump, and immediately were ensnared by something dark and slimy, but Snape conjured a blast of fire and drove the vines off.
"Oh! Devil's Snare!" Hazel gasped, but she had no time to marvel at it. There was one passageway, and it sloped downward as they pressed on, soon emerging into a brightly lit chamber with, again, a single door leading onward. Hundreds of tiny creatures were flying through the air above, and were it not for the gravity of the moment she would have liked to admire their patterns.
"Potter, Weasley, grab brooms and look for a key with a bent wing," Snape ordered, "it will unlock that door ahead of us." They saw heavy old brooms leaning against the wall, and each grabbed one and took off quickly. As usual, the rush of flight cleared her mind, and with sharp eyes she scanned the room; what seemed to be hundreds of tiny birds were actually enchanted keys, and she saw the trick immediately; you had to catch the right key and use it on the door!
It took them thirty precious seconds to spot it, a large silver key with blue wings, one of them crumpled. Another minute or so to catch the thing, for it seemed flightier than any Snitch, and could hide among its hundreds of brethren. "Hurry, hurry...!" At last it was snagged, and Hazel darted down to shove it through the lock and open it.
The next chamber was an elaborate chess set, taking up the full length and breadth. Hermione tried to get by and was blocked instantly as the pawns all whipped out heavy swords. "Sir, we haven't got time! Malfoy's up there!"
"I know, I know!" Snape paced back and forth, muttering to himself. "McGonagall must have created this barrier, obviously you have to play the game and win... but how would she...?" After a few seconds he drew his wand and waved it before him in a complicated pattern, and the ranks of chessmen parted before him. "Perfect, keep going..."
"Draco or I could have done that, if we'd had time," Ron muttered, sounding confused as they hurried down the path. "And the music wasn't a secret either, was it, we learned about cerberi while teaching ourselves. Those vines weren't hard, and that key..." He managed to laugh, even while out of breath. "How anyone would expect you to be slowed down by that, Hazel..."
"Dumbledore likes his jokes, Weasley, but this isn't a joke any longer," Snape panted. The next room held a hulking troll, larger even than the one from Halloween, but it was out cold. They hurried on, the smell driving them ahead, and no sooner were they in the next chamber but flames shot up in either doorway. Snape didn't seem bothered, of course. "Miss Granger, would you care to try before I simply hand out the answer like candy?" and he pointed at a rolled up parchment, waiting patiently on a low table with seven glass bottles full of potion.
"Um..." She took the parchment and scanned. "Ah, I see, it's a puzzle. You need logic here, not magic." She looked back and forth from the parchment to the scroll. "That smallest one gets us forward, right? And that round bottle there will let us go back?" She frowned at the small bottle. "There's hardly more than a swallow in there!"
"Indeed." Snape raised his wand again. "Homenum Revelio!" Each of them felt a swooping sensation over their heads, and Snape ran behind the table, felt down along the floor. "Ah ha!" He pulled at something, and the invisibility cloak came away, revealing Draco's unconscious form. Snape aimed his wand at the boy's face. "Rennervate!"
Draco moaned, opened his eyes, saw Snape and clutched up at him. "Professor...! Quirrell, he-"
"Yes, Draco, now li-"
"NO! It's worse than that, he- he's got the Dark Lord with him somehow!" Draco looked absolutely terrified, sitting there on the floor, and Hazel felt sorry for him even as cold terror gripped her own heart. "They grabbed me in the forest- had the Cloak, flew ahead, blasted that dog aside in one spell...!"
"Did he make you play the chess game?" Snape went on quietly, seething with fury now.
"YES! I had to sacrifice myself to the queen, and they must have dragged me along because..."
"Very well." He stood and looked down at Hazel. "Potter, it is impossible that Quirrell will ever get the Stone from Dumbledore's final puzzle, he is too selfish and greedy to manage it." All the urgency was gone from Snape's demeanor, now that Draco was safe, and Hazel wondered at the emphasis on the words 'selfish' and 'greedy'. "If the Dark Lord is there, it will be doubly so, but they may find a way to brute force it anyhow. There is enough for one person to pass through, the rest of us will return to the castle... I'll be back once they're safe..."
"Sir." She was still confused, and quite unwilling to throw herself into such danger. "If the Stone is that safe, why not lock them both up down there? They haven't got the cloak, we know where they are, Dumbledore will be back tomorrow..."
"Quite so. This little gauntlet, as Weasley surmised, was created with you and your friends in mind, not a Dark Lord and his maddened, dying slave. Nothing you will find on the other side of those flames is beyond your abilities, Potter, Dumbledore was certain of that. And if a first-year girl can solve it, surely a grown man could figure out a loophole, given time! Now go!"
Still not reassured, Hazel reached for the tiny bottle, but was stopped when Hermione let out a sob and threw her arms around Hazel's neck. "Oh Hazel, please be careful!" she cried, squeezing as hard as she could. "Just- please don't die!"
"I'll... I'll be fine, Hermione, really," Hazel gulped, gently squeezing back. "Now, um... breathe..." Hermione pulled back just as abruptly, and Hazel staggered slightly. "Oof. Right then..."
"Good luck, mate," Ron said nervously, and Draco only nodded as Hazel swallowed the potion, shuddered from the feeling of ice flooding her body, and strode purposefully through the flames.
In the last chamber, Hazel saw Quirrell, and to her surprise she also saw the Mirror of Erised. "Step back, Quirrell!" she cried, pointing her wand at him.
He only chuckled and turned to face her. "Hazel Potter, come to save the day," he sneered, no trace of his nervous former self remaining. "Not a very Slytherin attitude, is it?"
"What, you think I wanted to be here?" she sneered back, trying to think of some spell to use on the man. "Snape was too cowardly to come through himself! And those useless classmates of mine!" She didn't actually believe that, but for now she had to keep him talking, buy herself time. "I wanted to leave you down here for Dumbledore to sort out!"
"Dumbledore!" he scoffed, voice rising, and she was disgusted to see the silvery remnants of unicorn blood staining his lips. "That old fool is on his way to London by now! By the time he gets back you'll be dead and I'll be long gone with the Philosopher's Stone!" He snapped his fingers, conjuring ropes to bind Hazel from head to foot. "Now be silent, I still have to figure this mirror out."
It was useless to struggle against the tight cords, but she struggled anyway. "You'll never get the Stone!" she taunted. "You think you're so clever? Snape was onto you from the start! No one respected you at Hogwarts!"
"Of course not," Quirrell replied, still studying the mirror. "I needed them to underestimate p-p-poor Professor Q-Q-Quirrell. I admit I had to move faster than planned, thanks to your meddling... but you brought me a lovely hostage to force my way through the wards with... terribly clever, that Malfoy boy... too bad he has to die with the rest of you..."
"His father won't like that one bit!"
"Perhaps not..." He walked to the back of the mirror, peered up at it for a few moments. "Speaking of little Draco, though, did you ever wonder what a pure-blood maniac like him was doing, associating with mudbloods and traitors like you?"
"Really?" she scoffed back, though she stopped struggling. "He said he was doubting his family's position, that things need to change!"
"Yes, he would, considering what his father ordered of him." Finally he turned to face her, and pain flared up in her scar. "No, Potter, he's not your friend, he told my master so himself, and no one can lie to the Dark Lord!" He jerked his wand and she flew upright. "He told my master he'd been ordered to get close, to lie about how he felt for those filthy mudbloods and half-bloods, say whatever it took to become your friend! And it worked, didn't it!" His wand slashed again and she cried out, a gash tearing open on her cheek. "And you dare call me a fool?!"
Hazel merely scowled, fighting to ignore the pain wracking her body. "What do you mean, he spoke to your master?" she growled through grit teeth, playing dumb to keep him talking still. "He's not here! It's just you, you fool!"
"Is it, Potter?" came a high, cold voice, and the pain in her scar spiked horribly. "Put her before the mirror..." Quirrell snapped his fingers, and the ropes binding her fell away; he grabbed her collar and thrust her before the mirror.
Aching and helpless, she stared into its foggy depths, the illusion of her adult self smirking before her as usual. Dimly, she noticed her parents had disappeared. 'I just want the Stone,' she thought desperately, 'I have to get it away from here... I just want the Stone...'
From the edge of the mirror walked her current self, smirking just the same. 'Please... all I want is the Stone', she thought desperately, staring into her reflection's eyes. The reflection winked, reached into its pocket and drew out a small, blood-red stone, then dropped it back. As it did so, something shifted in Hazel's real pockets. She had to exert every last scrap of will left to keep from reacting in any way; she had the Stone!
"What do you see, brat?!" Quirrell demanded, shaking her.
"I see myself as a grownup," she babbled, looking over at her adult reflection, who nodded approvingly at the lie. "She's, she's tall and strong, and beautiful and powerful and-"
"Bah! Useless!" and he threw her aside. "I should have known a Slytherin couldn't do it!" He stood before the mirror once more, staring hungrily into it. "Yes, there I am... and there you are, Master! I'm giving you the Stone! But where is it?!"
Hazel had no more purpose here, she had to leave. She scrambled to her feet and tried to run, but something snagged her ankle and she sprawled out again. "She lies..." came the high, cold voice again. "Reveal us... we must speak face to face..."
"No, Master, you aren't strong enough!" Quirrell protested, even as he walked backward, reaching for his turban.
"I have enough strength for this... if I can endure your helpless bleating..." Quirrell unraveled his turban foot by foot, and when it fell away she screamed and clutched her head, unable to look away. It was a second face, with red eyes and snake-like slits where a nose should be. "See what you have wrought, Hazel Jade Potter," the face said, spitting the words of her name. "Shadow and vapor, reduced to riding along on the backs of my servants... this one was dying, we had to seek unicorn blood... and once you give me that Stone, I'll have a new body all to myself..."
"I'm never giving it to you!" she gasped, still unable to break eye contact. "Never, you hear me?"
The snake-like face laughed, a high, cold laugh that threatened to drive her mad; it was the same laugh that had haunted her nightmares all her life. "So brave... Your parents were brave too, but they died begging, like everyone else..."
"No! No, you're lying!" Hazel snarled, and the thought of her parents broke the weakness of her body. She slashed green flames at the snake face and scrambled backwards, desperate to get away from Quirrell and Voldemort.
"SEIZE HER!" the face screamed, and Quirrell whirled back about, lunged ahead and snagged her wrist. The pain flared again and she cried out, but somehow he couldn't hold on. "I SAID SEIZE HER, YOU FOOL!"
"Master! My hands! I cannot hold her!" Quirrell babbled, trying to pin her down in a way that didn't touch skin on skin.
"Then kill her and be done with it!" Voldemort snarled, but as he raised his wand Hazel swung upward with her hand, and he screamed as his skin went red, seemed to burn; his wand clattered away. "KILL HER! NOW!"
Still screaming with the pain, Quirrell's hands fastened around her throat, squeezed down even as his skin began to smoke and char. The pain was all-encompassing, she would die just to get away from it, she was screaming back with the last of her breath...
But if she died, her friends would die too...
"NO!" she cried, finding her strength again. She threw his hands off, reached up and slapped his face; he fell back with a cry, his hands were ruined, Voldemort was screaming. "NOT THEM! YOU WON'T HURT THEM!" She lunged ahead, and now they were reversed, Hazel atop Quirrell with her hands around his neck. Normally she wouldn't have the strength to hold him down, but he was weakened and dying, and wherever she touched him, he burned. Smoke rose from his face, made her choke, but she didn't let go until the screaming stopped, until his eyes exploded, until his skin had bubbled away into ash...
The screaming wasn't stopping, because she was the one screaming... she gasped and fell back, unable to endure the pain any longer... the last thing she saw was Quirrell's empty, blackened eye sockets…
Notes:Before you leave a comment stating what an awful chapter this is, let me say this: I know. I am aware it is jarring in comparison to the rest of it, and I know exactly what the problem is. I fully intend to redo this entire story and maybe the second one too at some point, when the rest of the series is complete. That said, you can still rant about how nonsense it is, if you really feel the need. Thank you and enjoy the rest of the fic!