Chess Anyone?
"They're not birds, they're keys!" They were standing in a brightly lit chamber, so dazzling after the dark dungeon they had just come from, with high vaulting ceilings and what looked like a dome decorated with tiny mosaics in the centre. Alice couldn't be sure though as a huge mass of winged metal stood - or rather flew - between them and the roof.
"We must have to find the key for the door," she whispered. Hermione turned to look at her and she surreptitiously shifted her arm behind her, as it gave another painful twinge, so that her friends couldn't see it. They had enough to worry about.
"How?"
"Over there," Harry pointed after squinting around the room, "by that pillar, there's some brooms."
They all rushed across the room, their footsteps echoing oddly in the vast room filled with metal and feathers, to find three broomsticks hovering patiently and awaiting use. Ron, and Harry immediately grabbed a broom each, but Hermione took one sceptical look at the broom and passed it to Alice.
"Here, it's probably better if - Alice, you're arm!" She was staring in horror at Alice's blood soaked sleeve and scarlet palm which she had unwittingly put out to accept the broom. It had been an automatic reaction.
"What happened?"
"Why didn't you say something?" Alice winced as Hermione took hold of her arm and examined the gash, hissing in sympathy when she saw it. The blood was now oozing sluggishly from the cut and had almost completely soaked the thin sleeve of her robe.
"I didn't want to, the dog - oh Harry no!" she protested as her friend ripped a strip from the bottom of his robes to bandage her arm. Gently wrapping it around it was a moment before he answered her.
"I'm so sorry Alice," he gazed at her earnestly, "this is all my fault."
"No it's not," Hermione and Alice spoke at the same time then grinned shakily at each other.
"Harry," she spoke earnestly, making sure that he was looking at her, "this is not your fault, you did not make me, or any of us for that matter come down here against our will and you certainly did not make that stupid dog of Hagrid's decide to take a chunk out of me." She smile at him and waited till he gradually reciprocated before turning back to Hermione. "Come on then, give me the broom - I can still use my other arm."
"You'd probably still be better on a broom," Ron muttered, then looked sheepish when he saw she had heard him.
"Come on then," she heard the renewed determination in Harry's voice. "Let's get this key."
In the end it took barely a minute to locate and capture the right key as the others hemmed it in whilst Harry shot at it and pinned it against the wall with an audible crunch - she was so glad it couldn't feel anything. They quickly moved towards the door and Harry inserted the key in the lock before pausing to look at Alice again.
"Harry I'm fine!"
"Are you sure?"
"You have gone a bit pale," Hermione peered at her anxiously.
This made her smile. "Hermione I have red hair, I'm always pale."
"She has a point there," Ron concurred. "So come on, let's get a move on before I change my mind about stopping this nameless thief."
Harry took one last look at his friends, registered the determination in their faces, then nodded and turned the key.
The next chamber was much like the one they had just left, brilliantly lit and huge, but this time it was filled with a huge chess set which seemed to be set out as though halfway through a game and - the four of them stopped short in confusion.
"What the - ?"
"You?!"
Very slowly, so slowly that at first Alice thought he hadn't heard them, Professor Quirrell turned round.
"Potter," he raised a hand to his turbaned head, "fancy running into you down here." All trace of his stutter had vanished and his self satisfied smirk told Alice everything she needed to know about what exactly his intentions were. It was all too obvious that they had been chasing the wrong teacher all year.
"I don't understand." Hermione sounded like the afraid little girl she actually was.
Quirrell's eyes never moved from Harry's face as he spoke he seemed fixated by him. "Really Miss Granger? How unusual," when not stuttering his voice had an insidious quality which sent shivers down Alice's spine. "I assume you know what is at the end of this pathetic charade, otherwise you would not have followed me?"
"But Snape - ?" Ron clearly still didn't get it.
"Snape? Snape was a convenient scapegoat and he made that task so much easier for me always swooping about like an overgrown bat. Yes, he seems much more the type."
"The type to do what? Steal?" Don't goad him Harry, Alice thought silently. As Quirrell continued to speak, explaining how Snape had actually tried to save Harry at the Quidditch match, Alice quickly glanced around the room. The majority of a set of black chessmen in various states of play stood between the first years and their teacher and there was only a narrow space around the walls as the majority of the floor was taken up by the chessboard. Alice's gaze followed this gap around the room until she located the sole door - it was barred by the white chessmen on the other side who seemed to be guarding it almost as much as their king. They were stuck, there was no way they could get through there before Quirrell.
"But why kill Harry?" Hermione's voice was shrill, even in her panicked state she obviously still could not repress the urge to ask questions. "Why not just take the Stone and go, you can have as much gold as you want, what has Harry to do with it?"
"Gold!" Those cold, emotionless eyes still would not leave her friends face. "You think I do this because I want to get rich?" He let out a bark of a laugh, "no I have other, higher motives," a shadow seemed to pass across his face at this point and his earlier humour vanished, "although I have failed many times. The Dark Lord does not appreciate failure."
Alice's heart seemed to jump a beat and she could almost feel the stillness within her ribs before it kick started again. "Voldemort?" That did it. Quirrell's face contorted as his eyes snapped towards Alice's.
"Do not mention his name. You are not even worthy to be in his presence let alone foul his name with your Mudblood tongue."
"Don't you talk to her like that!" Ron's outrage was somewhat tempered by the fact that as he finished speaking Quirrell slowly drew his wand from within the folds of his robes.
Alice glanced to her left as she heard Hermione whimper and saw her friend inching slowly in front of Harry. This was getting out of control, they were going to have to act fast if they were going to get out of here whole. The problem was her brain still seemed to be three beats behind; she couldn't seem to comprehend that not only was her bumbling, stuttering Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher the would-be-thief, but that he was working for Voldemort to boot. It was too much to take in, and it didn't help that she was starting to feel faint and the pain from her arm from her arm was fogging her thinking. She prayed Neville had managed to convince a teacher they were in anger and someone would come after them, but she didn't like their chances.
"Wait." All four of them jumped and then immediately began to look around for the source as a high pitched voice filled the room. "Let me see him - I demand to see him," the voice added when Quirrell hesitated.
Alice's felt her stomach drop to the region of her scuffed and rather messy shoes - what a time to notice things like that she thought - she had a horrible suspicion about who that voice belonged to, but it couldn't be, could it? They all watched in mounting horror as Quirrell reached up to undo his turban and turned round to reveal -
"There's a face," Ron's whisper sounded utterly revolted, "in his head."
"Harry Potter," it seemed to be an effort for him to speak, "See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour…" he continued to spew bile as Alice found that her brain had suddenly managed to catch up with the rest of the world. They didn't need to get through that other door, just stop Quirrell from doing so, or delay him long enough that someone else might come and rescue them - although she didn't hold out much hope that they would get here in time. Quirrell was going to kill them, that much was obvious, it was just a question of when. Maybe they could use the chess set as a shield, or lure him back through to the key room and use the brooms to keep out of his reach but distract him enough that he wouldn't continue towards the Stone. She tried to consider how they might fight back, but they knew pitifully little defensive magic, partly because they were only first years and partly - she could appreciate the irony later - because their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was so atrocious.
" - I want you to witness my triumph Potter," Voldemort was saying. "Dispose of the rest."
Immediately the four of them threw themselves on the floor as Quirrell raised his wand a fired a blast of green light at the place where she and Ron had just been standing. Alice landed with a grunt as her arm throbbed again sending sparks of white light shooting across her vision.
"Come on!" Ron grabbed her other hand and pulled her to her feet running along the wall using the chessmen as a cover with pieces of mortar and dust raining down on them when Quirrell's spells hit the walls.
"Where's Harry?" she panted as they crouched behind a rook straining to see where Quirrell was but not be seen themselves at the same time. He seemed to be walking towards the other edge of the board, but she couldn't see properly because of all the pieces in the way.
"They went - they went round the other way." Suddenly the two of them jumped as a huge explosion blew apart several chess pieces on the other side of the room.
"HERMIONE!" Alice screamed. She could here several shouts and was aware that several flashes of light lit up the pallid walls as spells were exchanged but the explosion had cast up so much dust and debris that she couldn't see what was going on properly. "We need to distract him, if he's confused then we stand a better chance." She drew her own wand.
"Or he'll just get annoyed and kill us faster… or more painfully," Ron grumbled but followed suit anyway.
"We need to split up so that he's surrounded - Ron," she turned back to him before she ran off, "be careful."
"You too."
Running part of the way back around the room she stood behind one of the chessmen, distantly aware that one of his arms was missing, and fired a leg-locker curse at Quirrell's turned back. However what she had forgotten was that not only was he an adult and therefore vastly more experienced in magic than they were, but that he literally had eyes on the back of his head. Voldemort's face - she still couldn't get her head around that bit, even though the evidence clearly showed he was real - gave a wordless cry and Quirrell spun making the spell glance harmlessly off the shield he conjured. However before he could retaliate, another beam of light flew from the direction Ron had disappeared in and he turned away again. Several more spells were fired as Alice tried to rack her brain for a solution, they couldn't keep this up forever, and none of them knew anything advanced enough to neutralise the threat their professor posed.
Think Alice, think, how do you fight something impossible? Suddenly she was visited with a vision of Harry on that night so many months ago now leaping insanely onto the back of a rampaging troll, before she knocked it out. Maybe they couldn't knock Quirrell out, but it was better than nothing.
"Wingardium Leviosa," she whispered pointing at the pawn nearest to Quirrell. Slowly at first and then, like a dormant creature awakening from slumber, with increasing speed then pawn rose in the air and she directed it towards the teacher, he soon realised what was happening however and made a slashing motion with his own wand through the air causing the pawn to crash to the floor and topple onto its side sending tremors through the ground beneath them. It was enough however, her friends all picked up immediately on what she was trying to achieve and soon enough chess pieces were soaring through the air and crashing around Quirrell right, left and centre. It was chaos and it was keeping wonderfully occupied from firing any curses at them.
"Get on with it!" The high voice sounded apoplectic with rage; the howling scream echoed around the chamber punctuated by crashes and shouts as the battle - if it could be called that - ensued.
"Alice." She whirled at the sound of a voice to find Harry running up to her, crouched low, his hair white with dust and smudges spattering his face. Relief flooded through her at the sight of him and she felt the urge to hug him. But not now.
"We need to do something," he gasped, "we can't keep this up - you especially." He put out a hand to steady her as she swayed slightly.
"I'm fine," she brushed off his concern as she sent another chessman flying indignantly through the air; there were more important things to consider. "We -" She was cut off as another chessman was blown to rubble and a cry rang out from the other side of the room before being cut short abruptly.
"That was Ron," Harry's voice was suddenly a hoarse whisper.
"I'll get him, just keep going." She took off again round the room making sure to keep herself hidden from Quirrell's view, which was much easier now the board was littered with the shattered remains of the pieces. As she ran she was aware that she felt strangely light and that her legs seemed to be disconnected from the rest of her body. Please don't let me pass out. She struggled determinedly forwards and after what seemed an age, but could in actuality not have been more than a few seconds, Ron's legs came into view. Quickly she flopped down beside him, she wasn't actually sure if she instructed her legs to do this or if they simply gave out beneath her, and checked him over. He was still breathing - she ducked as more spells flew over her head and ricocheted off the wall - and he seemed intact despite a large gash on his forehead which was slowly staining his hair a deeper shade of red. Taking the corner of her robes she pressed it to the cut to try and stem the bleeding and with her other hand attempted to protect them both from the flying debris that now seemed to fill the whole chamber - Quirrell's new strategy seemed to be to blast the entire room to pieces in an effort to get them. However she found that the numbness in her legs had spread to her injured arm and her fingers couldn't seem to hold her wand properly which fell from her fingers and rolled out of reach. Turning back she concentrated on holding down the cloth, biting down hard on her lower lip as pain lanced up her arm in the process.
There was a muffled yell and then abruptly silence descended on the room.
"Come out Potter, its over."
Alice looked around and felt her stomach drop another few inches. Standing in the centre of the chess board amid all the destruction and debris was Quirrell - his head looking bizarrely tiny without the turban - and in his vice like grasp he held -
"Hermione," Alice moaned softly, she tried to move to do something, anything, but her legs had ceased to obey her and she couldn't even get to her wand. The crunch of stone grinding underfoot drew her eyes away towards where Harry was emerging holding his wand above his head in surrender. They had failed.
"Please," he begged, "don't hurt her."
"Harry don't!" Hermione tried to squirm away, but Quirrell held her tightly and she could do nothing except gaze imploringly at Harry who had stopped several yards away from them.
"Don't hurt her," he repeated.
Quietly at first and then swelling so that it rang around the chamber and seemed to fill it entirely, a chilling cackle sounded throughout the room. "How touching, you so remind me of your mother Potter." The unconcealed glee in Voldemort's voice was if possible even more terrifying than when he had been shouting. "She said much the same thing before I killed her. Like mother like son. Kill him"
"No!" Hermione shouted as Quirrell lunged at Harry, grabbing him by the wrists. After that it became confusing as Alice's vision began to swim. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once, someone was howling in pain, Voldemort was screaming orders and she wasn't sure if Quirrell still had a grip of Harry or Hermione or who was struggling on the ground. White lights began to dance across her vision as she tried to force herself to her feet and she shook her head to clear them but this just made things worse. The clamour in the room seemed to meld together into a single cacophony of noise as she glanced down at Ron. Was that her blood or his on his face? She didn't know. The last thing she was aware was as the light consumed her was a sudden increase in the level of shouting before the sound, and all her other senses, cut out completely.
A/N: Well there you go, finally another chapter. Apologies for the inordinate length of time since I last upload. My computer got virused (is that even a word?) and I've spent ages trying to recover things etc. As compensation I'll give you a few chapters at once.
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