Harry Potter 1 Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

HP 1 - Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer's Stone

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR
I n years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed
to  get  through  his  exams  when  he  half  expected  Voldemort  to  come  bursting
through  the  door  at  any  moment.  Yet  the  days  crept  by,  and  there  could  be  no
doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.
It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did
their  written  papers.  They  had  been  given  special,  new  quills  for  the  exams,
which had been bewitched with an Anticheating spell.
They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by
one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk.
Professor  McGonagall  watched  them  turn  a  mouse  into  a  snuffbox  —  points
were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers.
Snape  made  them  all  nervous,  breathing  down  their  necks  while  they  tried  to
remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.
           Harry  did  the  best  he  could,  trying  to  ignore  the  stabbing  pains  in  his
forehead,  which  had  been  bothering  him  ever  since  his  trip  into  the  forest.
Neville  thought  Harry  had  a  bad  case  of  exam  nerves  because  Harry  couldn’t
sleep,  but  the  truth  was  that  Harry  kept  being  woken  by  his  old  nightmare,
except  that  it  was  now  worse  than  ever  because  there  was  a  hooded  figure
dripping blood in it.
Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen what Harry had seen in the forest,
or  because  they  didn’t  have  scars  burning  on  their  foreheads,  but  Ron  and
Hermione  didn’t  seem  as  worried  about  the  Stone  as  Harry.  The  idea  of
Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn’t keep visiting them in dreams, and
they were so busy with their studying they didn’t have much time to fret about
what Snape or anyone else might be up to.
           Their  very  last  exam  was  History  of  Magic.  One  hour  of  answering
questions  about  batty  old  wizards  who’d  invented  selfstirring  cauldrons  and
they’d  be  free,  free  for  a  whole  wonderful  week  until  their  exam  results  came
out.  When  the  ghost  of  Professor  Binns  told  them  to  put  down  their  quills  and
roll up their parchment, Harry couldn’t help cheering with the rest.
“That was far easier than I thought it would be,” said Hermione as they
joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. “I needn’t have learned

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about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager.”
Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but
Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped
under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a
giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. “No more studying,” Ron
sighed  happily,  stretching  out  on  the  grass.  “You  could  look  more  cheerful,
Harry,  we’ve  got  a  week  before  we  find  out  how  badly  we’ve  done,  there’s  no
need to worry yet.”
Harry was rubbing his forehead.
“I wish I knew what this means!” he burst out angrily. “My scar keeps
hurting — it’s happened before, but never as often as this.”
“Go to Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione suggested.
           “I’m  not  ill,”  said  Harry.  “I  think  it’s  a  warning…it  means  danger’s
coming….”
Ron couldn’t get worked up, it was too hot.
“Harry, relax, Hermione’s right, the Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore’s
around.  Anyway,  we’ve  never  had  any  proof  Snape  found  out  how  to  get  past
Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he’s not going to try it again in a
hurry.  And  Neville  will  play  Quidditch  for  England  before  Hagrid  lets
Dumbledore down.”
Harry nodded, but he couldn’t shake off a lurking feeling that there was
something he’d forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain
this,  Hermione  said,  “That’s  just  the  exams.  I  woke  up  last  night  and  was
halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we’d done that
one.”
Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn’t have anything to do with
work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue
sky,  a  note  clamped  in  its  mouth.  Hagrid  was  the  only  one  who  ever  sent  him
letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone
how to get past Fluffy…never…but….
Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.
“Where’re you going?” said Ron sleepily.
           “I’ve  just  thought  of  something,”  said  Harry.  He  had  turned  white.
“We’ve got to go and see Hagrid, now.”
“Why?” panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.
           “Don’t  you  think  it’s  a  bit  odd,”  said  Harry,  scrambling  up  the  grassy
slope,  “that  what  Hagrid  wants  more  than  anything  else  is  a  dragon,  and  a
stranger  turns  up  who  just  happens  to  have  an  egg  in  his  pocket?  How  many
people  wander  around  with  dragon  eggs  if  it’s  against  wizard  law?  Lucky  they

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found Hagrid, don’t you think? Why didn’t I see it before?”
“What are you talking about?” said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the
grounds toward the forest, didn’t answer.
           Hagrid  was  sitting  in  an  armchair  outside  his  house;  his  trousers  and
sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.
“Hullo,” he said, smiling. “Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?”
“Yes, please,” said Ron, but Harry cut him off.
“No, we’re in a hurry. Hagrid, I’ve got to ask you something. You know
that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with
look like?”
“Dunno,” said Hagrid casually, “he wouldn’ take his cloak off.”
He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.
“It’s not that unusual, yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head —
that’s  the  pub  down  in  the  village.  Mighta  bin  a  dragon  dealer,  mightn’  he?  I
never saw his face, he kept his hood up.”
Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. “What did you talk to him
about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?”
           “Mighta  come  up,”  said  Hagrid,  frowning  as  he  tried  to  remember.
“Yeah…he asked what I did, an’ I told him I was gamekeeper here…He asked a
bit  about  the  sorta  creatures  I  took  after…so  I  told  him…an’  I  said  what  I’d
always really wanted was a dragon…an’ then…I can’ remember too well, ‘cause
he kept buyin’ me drinks…Let’s see…yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg
an’ we could play cards fer it if I wanted…but he had ter be sure I could handle
it, he didn’ want it ter go ter any old home….So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon
would be easy.…”
“And did he — did he seem interested in Fluffy?” Harry asked, trying to
keep his voice calm.
“Well — yeah — how many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around
Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o’ cake if yeh know how to calm him
down, jus’ play him a bit o’ music an’ he’ll go straight off ter sleep —”
Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.
           “I  shouldn’ta  told  yeh  that!”  he  blurted  out.  “Forget  I  said  it!  Hey  —
where’re yeh goin’?”
           Harry,  Ron,  and  Hermione  didn’t  speak  to  each  other  at  all  until  they
came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the
grounds.
“We’ve got to go to Dumbledore,” said Harry. “Hagrid told that stranger
how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak —
it  must’ve  been  easy,  once  he’d  got  Hagrid  drunk.  I  just  hope  Dumbledore

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believes  us.  Firenze  might  back  us  up  if  Bane  doesn’t  stop  him.  Where’s
Dumbledore’s office?”
They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right
direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know
anyone who had been sent to see him.
“We’ll just have to —” Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the
hall.
“What are you three doing inside?”
It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.
“We want to see Professor Dumbledore,” said Hermione, rather bravely,
Harry and Ron thought.
“See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated, as though
this was a very fishy thing to want to do. “Why?”
Harry swallowed — now what?
           “It’s  sort  of  secret,”  he  said,  but  he  wished  at  once  he  hadn’t,  because
Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared.
           “Professor  Dumbledore  left  ten  minutes  ago,”  she  said  coldly.  “He
received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at
once.”
“He’s gone?” said Harry frantically. “Now?”
           “Professor  Dumbledore  is  a  very  great  wizard,  Potter,  he  has  many
demands on his time – ”
“But this is important.”
           “Something  you  have  to  say  is  more  important  than  the  Ministry  of
Magic, Potter?”
           “Look,”  said  Harry,  throwing  caution  to  the  winds,  “Professor  —  it’s
about the Sorcerer’s Stone —”
Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn’t that. The books
she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn’t pick them up.
“How do you know —?” she spluttered.
“Professor, I think — I know — that Sn— that someone’s going to try
and steal the Stone. I’ve got to talk to Professor Dumbledore.”
She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.
“Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow,” she said finally. I don’t
know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly
steal it, it’s too well protected.”
“But Professor —”
“Potter, I know what I’m talking about,” she said shortly. She bent down
and gathered up the fallen books. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the

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sunshine.”
But they didn’t.
“It’s tonight,” said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was
out  of  earshot.  “Snape’s  going  through  the  trapdoor  tonight.  He’s  found  out
everything he needs, and now he’s got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that
note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns
up.”
“But what can we —”
Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round.
Snape was standing there.
“Good afternoon,” he said smoothly.
They stared at him.
“You shouldn’t be inside on a day like this,” he said, with an odd, twisted
smile.
“We were —” Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.
“You want to be more careful,” said Snape. “Hanging around like this,
people will think you’re up to something. And Gryffindor really can’t afford to
lose any more points, can it?”
Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.
           “Be  warned,  Potter  —  any  more  nighttime  wanderings  and  I  will
personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you.”
He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.
Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.
“Right, here’s what we’ve got to do,” he whispered urgently. “One of us
has got to keep an eye on Snape — wait outside the staff room and follow him if
he leaves it. Hermione, you’d better do that.”
“Why me?”
“It’s obvious,” said Ron. “You can pretend to be waiting for Professor
Flitwick,  you  know.”  He  put  on  a  high  voice,  “‘Oh  Professor  Flitwick,  I’m  so
worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong….’”
           “Oh,  shut  up,”  said  Hermione,  but  she  agreed  to  go  and  watch  out  for
Snape.
“And we’d better stay outside the third-floor corridor,” Harry told Ron.
“Come on.”
           But  that  part  of  the  plan  didn’t  work.  No  sooner  had  they  reached  the
door  separating  Fluffy  from  the  rest  of  the  school  than  Professor  McGonagall
turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.
           “I  suppose  you  think  you’re  harder  to  get  past  than  a  pack  of
enchantments!”  she  stormed.  “Enough  of  this  nonsense!  If  I  hear  you’ve  come

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anywhere  near  here  again,  I’ll  take  another  fifty  points  from  Gryffindor!  Yes,
Weasley, from my own house!”
Harry and Ron went back to the common room, Harry had just said, “At
least Hermione’s on Snape’s tail,” when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open
and Hermione came in.
“I’m sorry, Harry!” she wailed. “Snape came out and asked me what I
was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and
I’ve only just got away, I don’t know where Snape went.”
“Well, that’s it then, isn’t it?” Harry said.
The other two stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.
“I’m going out of here tonight and I’m going to try and get to the Stone
first.”
“You’re mad!” said Ron.
“You can’t!” said Hermione. “After what McGonagall and Snape have
said? You’ll be expelled!”
“SO WHAT” Harry shouted. “Don’t you understand? If Snape gets hold
of  the  Stone,  Voldemort’s  coming  back!  Haven’t  you  heard  what  it  was  like
when he was trying to take over? There won’t be any Hogwarts to get expelled
from!  He’ll  flatten  it,  or  turn  it  into  a  school  for  the  Dark  Arts!  Losing  points
doesn’t  matter  anymore,  can’t  you  see?  D’you  think  he’ll  leave  you  and  your
families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get
to the Stone, well, I’ll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to
find  me  there,  it’s  only  dying  a  bit  later  than  I  would  have,  because  I’m  never
going over to the Dark Side! I’m going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing
you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?”
He glared at them.
“You’re right Harry,” said Hermione in a small voice.
“I’ll use the invisibility cloak,” said Harry. “It’s just lucky I got it back.”
“But will it cover all three of us?” said Ron.
“All — all three of us?”
“Oh, come off it, you don’t think we’d let you go alone?”
“Of course not,” said Hermione briskly. “How do you think you’d get to
the Stone without us? I’d better go and took through my books, there might be
something useful….”
“But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too.”
“Not if I can help it,” said Hermione grimly. “Flitwick told me in secret
that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They’re not throwing me
out after that.”

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After  dinner  the  three  of  them  sat  nervously  apart  in  the  common  room.
Nobody  bothered  them;  none  of  the  Gryffindors  had  anything  to  say  to  Harry
any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn’t been upset by it. Hermione
was  skimming  through  all  her  notes,  hoping  to  come  across  one  of  the
enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn’t talk much.
Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do.
Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.
           “Better  get  the  cloak,”  Ron  muttered,  as  Lee  Jordan  finally  left,
stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He pulled out
the cloak and then 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 down to the common room.
“We’d better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three 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. Neville
appeared  from  behind  an  armchair,  clutching  Trevor  the  toad,  who  looked  as
though he’d been making another bid for freedom.
           “Nothing,  Neville,  nothing,”  said  Harry,  hurriedly  putting  the  cloak
behind his back.
Neville stared at their guilty faces.
“You’re going out again,” he said.
“No, no, no,” said Hermione. “No, we’re not. Why don’t you go to bed,
Neville?”
Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn’t afford
to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.
“You can’t go out,” said Neville, “you’ll be caught again. Gryffindor will
be in even more trouble.”
“You don’t understand,” said Harry, “this is important.”
But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.
I won’t let you do it,” he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait
hole. “I’ll — I’ll fight you!”
“Neville, “Ron exploded, “get away from that hole and don’t be an idiot
—”
“Don’t you call me an idiot!” said Neville. I don’t think you should be
breaking  any  more  rules!  And  you  were  the  one  who  told  me  to  stand  up  to
people!”
“Yes, but not to us,” said Ron in exasperation. “Neville, you don’t know
what you’re doing.”
He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt

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out of sight.
“Go on then, try and hit me!” said Neville, raising his fists. “I’m ready!”
Harry turned to Hermione.
“Do something,” he said desperately.
Hermione stepped forward.
“Neville,” she said, “I’m really, really sorry about this.”
She raised her wand.
“Petrificus Totalus!” she cried, pointing it at Neville.
Neville’s arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole
body  rigid,  he  swayed  where  he  stood  and  then  fell  flat  on  his  face,  stiff  as  a
board.
Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville’s jaws were jammed together so
he couldn’t speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.
“What’ve you done to him?” Harry whispered.
“It’s the full Body-Bind,” said Hermione miserably. “Oh, Neville, I’m so
sorry.”
“We had to, Neville, no time to explain,” said Harry.
“You’ll understand later, Neville,” said Ron as they stepped over him and
pulled on the invisibility cloak.
But leaving Neville 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,”  Ron  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.

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           “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 Ron.
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,  “Snape’s  already  got  past
Fluffy.”
Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them
what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other two.
“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 Ron.
“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 Ron. “Snape 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,” Ron 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
Ron, peering over the dog’s back. “Want to go first, Hermione?”
“No, I don’t!”
           “All  right.”  Ron  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

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have to drop.”
Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention
and pointed at himself.
“You want to go first? Are you sure?” said Ron. “I don’t know how deep
this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione 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 Ron and said, “If anything happens to me, don’t
follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?”
“Right,” said Ron.
“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!”
Ron 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, Hermione!”
           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 Ron.
“Lucky!” shrieked Hermione. “Look at you both!”
           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  and  Ron,  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 two 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
Ron, 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!” Harry choked.
“Yes — of course — but there’s no wood!” Hermione cried, wringing her
hands.
“HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron 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
Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the two 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,  Hermione,”  said  Harry  as  he
joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.
“Yeah,” said Ron, “and lucky Harry 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. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the
dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards’ bank. If they met a dragon, a
fully-grown dragon — Norbert had been bad enough….
“Can you hear something?” Ron 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 Ron.
“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 other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it
wouldn’t budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.
“Now what?” said Ron.
“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 two 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!”
Ron 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.”
Ron 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.  “Ron,  you  come  at  it  from  above  —  Hermione,  stay
below and stop it from going down and I’ll try and catch it. Right, NOW!”
Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, 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.  Ron  and

---

Hermione’s 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 two, 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. Harry,
Ron  and  Hermione  shivered  slightly  –  the  towering  white  chessmen  had  no
faces.
“Now what do we do?” Harry whispered.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Ron. “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 Ron, “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 Ron.
           “Do  we  —  er  —  have  to  join  you  to  get  across?”  The  black  knight
nodded. Ron turned to the other two.
“This needs thinking about…” he said. “I suppose we’ve got to take the
place of three of the black pieces….”
Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said,
“Now, don’t be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess
—”
“We’re not offended,” said Harry quickly. “Just tell us what to do.”
“Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you next
to him instead of that castle.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to be a knight,” said Ron.
The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a
knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked
off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, and Hermione took.

---

“White always plays first in chess,” said Ron, peering across the board.
“Yes…look…”
A white pawn had moved forward two squares.
Ron 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 Ron, 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,
Ron  only  just  noticed  in  time  that  Harry  and  Hermione  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 Ron softly, “It’s the only way…I’ve got to be taken.”
“NO!” Harry and Hermione shouted.
           “That’s  chess!”  snapped  Ron.  “You’ve  got  to  make  some  sacrifices!  I
take  one  step  forward  and  she’ll  take  me  —  that  leaves  you  free  to  checkmate
the king, Harry!”
“But —”
“Do you want to stop Snape or not?”
“Ron —”
“Look, if you don’t hurry up, he’ll already have the Stone!”
There was no alternative.
“Ready?” Ron 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 Ron 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 Ron 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.  With  one
last desperate look back at Ron, Harry 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. “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;
that leaves Quirrell’s spell, and Snape’s.”
They had reached another door.
“All right?” Harry whispered.
“Go on.”
Harry pushed it open.
           A  disgusting  smell  filled  their  nostrils,  making  both  of  them  pull  their
robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of
them,  a  troll  even  larger  than  the  one  they  had  tackled,  out  cold  with  a  bloody
lump on its head.
           “I’m  glad  we  didn’t  have  to  fight  that  one,”  Harry  whispered  as  they
stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. “Come on, I can’t breathe.”
He 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,  get  back  and  get  Ron.  Grab
brooms  from  the  flying-key  room,  they’ll  get  you  out  of  the  trapdoor  and  past
Fluffy — go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need
him.  I  might  be  able  to  hold  Snape  off  for  a  while,  but  I’m  no  match  for  him,
really.”
“But Harry — what if You-Know-Who’s with him?”
“Well — I was lucky once, wasn’t I?” said Harry, pointing at his scar. “I
might get lucky again.”
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.
There was already someone there — but it wasn’t Snape. It wasn’t even
Voldemort.

---