Chapter 40. The End of First Year 5/5
Spending most of our time brainstorming spells, we only occasionally glanced at the map, but the moment had come. The dot marking Quirrell was right in the depths of the Forbidden Corridor, and except for a few older students, the common room was empty. Hermione was waiting for Andromeda in the girls' dormitory, and Harry and Ron, clearly worn out from the waiting, were sitting on their beds.
"It's time," we told them, and then Andromeda went to get Hermione.
We became invisible already on the staircase so that others wouldn't ask awkward questions and, carefully opening the door, left the common room.
Nighttime Hogwarts, apart from the snoring of some portraits, was fairly quiet. Mrs Norris, as if knowing she had to wait for someone, was sitting by the staircase leading to the lower floors and, even catching our scent, watched us attentively. However, as always, since she couldn't see us, she didn't raise an alarm. So, despite a couple of not‑so‑humane comments from Ron, we passed her without trouble, and the rest of our way went quite smoothly until we ended up on the third floor.
"What is that?!" Ron exclaimed in fright as soon as we came down the stairs. The corridor floor was flooded with water, and in the middle of it a black silhouette of a boy hung in the air, with mist pouring from him.
"It's Peeves," we recognized the ghost. And inside we turned to ice. What we saw was screaming who had caused the ghost's condition.
"Guys, I think we need to fall back," we said nervously at the same time, thinking that only one creature in this castle could do that to a ghost, and that only a Parselmouth could free him—and what a miracle, Voldemort was exactly that.
"Why?" asked Harry in confusion, having thrown off the cloak.
"Because this is no longer simply facing a half‑dead adult wizard, it's facing a half‑dead wizard together with a giant snake that kills with a look!" By the end of our synchronized speech, there were already clear notes of real panic in our voices.
"Is it even possible to kill with a look?" Harry blinked in bewilderment, while the others started to realize just how problematic the situation was.
"It's a thousand‑year‑old basilisk. A monster bred by Salazar Slytherin," we explained, forcing down the panic.
"I think we really shouldn't go on," Hermione decided to back us up.
"…Fine. Go," Harry said after a short pause. "But I can't."
"Harry, you could die," we tried to reason with him.
"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand anything? If he steals the Stone, Voldemort will return! Haven't you heard about the times when he tried to seize power? Then no one will be expelled from Hogwarts, because the school simply won't exist! Voldemort will raze it to the ground or turn it into a school of Dark Arts! Even if we retreat now. And then what? Do you think Voldemort will leave you and your families alone? If I don't die today—well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait there until Voldemort finds me. I'll just die later than I could have died if I hadn't tried to do anything today, because I will never go over to the Dark side! And that's why today I'm going to the place where the Stone is kept. And whatever you say won't stop me! If you remember, Voldemort killed my parents. I can't just sit and wait while he starts killing others…"
As soon as he finished speaking, a red magical bolt flew at him, which he instantly blocked with a nonverbal "Protego," immediately taking a duelling stance opposite us.
"If I have to, I'll fight," the boy said with a serious face, and the magic echoing his intent seemed almost physically tangible.
"…," looking at him, we could only inwardly complain that apparently he really was the Chosen One for a reason. And so, with a sigh, we decided to yield.
"Ron, Hermione."
"What is it?" the girl asked warily, still shocked by our sudden attack and Harry's lightning‑fast defence.
"Find Snape, tell him that the nutcases Blackies and Potter have gone after Voldemort and a thousand‑year‑old basilisk," we said, handing her the Marauders' Map.
"No, I'm going with—"
"Enough!" we cut her off. "Three suicides are quite enough for today."
"They're right," Ron put a hand on the girl's shoulder, his face unusually serious. "We'll have every professor out of bed, don't doubt it, and promise you'll wait for us."
"Of course. Now go."
"What young heroes! Good luck to you," came the voice of a girl on a nearby portrait, moved almost to tears.
"Do not doubt it, young knights, I shall send you aid as soon as possible!" a male voice followed immediately after, and then, as if a dam had burst, all the portraits that had been silent till now began to cheer us on.
"Well then, let's go, hero, or we'll never get anything done," we couldn't help but smirk. The portraits' words had managed to give us some courage after all.
"Alright."
So the three of us went on, and we hastily explained our improvised plan along the way. A very risky plan, but we had no other.
"Harry, as soon as there's even a hint of the basilisk, try to look at the floor or anywhere else—just not into its eyes. And you'll have to play the most dangerous role. As unpleasant as it is, you'll have to be the bait. Voldemort will be interested in you, so he won't attack right away. Distract him with conversation. And we'll try to deal with the basilisk. It's a snake. And snakes are weak to cold; we'll try to get rid of it in one go, but if that doesn't work…" We started trembling slightly, because in that case we would have to use something truly dangerous. "Run."
"I'm not—"
"You didn't understand…" We were so nervous we completely forgot to even try speaking out of sync. "We'll use a spell we're not sure we can hold, so you'll have to run, and we'll run too."
"Then maybe we should just go 'boom' right away," Harry mimed an explosion, "and leg it?"
"Too dangerous, that's literally the last‑ditch and still suicidal option."
"So remember: you distract, we attack, and if anything, we run. Got it?" we said as we finally reached the door behind which Fluffy was supposed to be.
"Got it," Harry nodded.
"We're going in," we resolutely opened the door and, instead of the expected harp and sleeping dog, were met with a completely different picture.
"Hagrid's going to be upset," we muttered darkly, staring at the dead body dumped in the corner of the room, while in the middle there was an open trapdoor leading down; its edges were broken away, most likely to let the basilisk through.
"It's his basilisk, right?" Harry asked in a trembling voice.
"Yes," we nodded. "However, if you meet its gaze through glasses or another reflective surface, instead of death there'll only be petrification, which can be reversed, in principle… Thanks for reminding me," we finished, and, pulling ordinary handkerchiefs out of our pockets, we transfigured them into glasses.
"This will give us a better chance to survive."
"Let's move on," we didn't wait any longer and immediately jumped into the trapdoor, nearly breaking our legs; only at the last moment did we remember to slow our fall with levitation charms on our clothes, since there were no Devil's Snare vines to soften the landing.
"Looks like he got rid of them so the snake could pass through."
"AAAAAAAH!!" A scream came from above, and, catching the rapidly approaching figure in our sights, we shouted:
"Arresto Momentum!" After which the fall slowed dramatically, and Harry landed gently beside us.
"I–I don't think I'd have been able to come down here alone," the boy said, stammering slightly from the fright.
"We wouldn't have let you go alone," we stated seriously.
"Thanks."
"No, you didn't get it, we would've just stunned you. But, alas, you turned out to be surprisingly quick."
"You're not going to do that again, are you?" the boy asked nervously.
"No," we shook our head. "It's too late to retreat now."
"Er, how about you go first then?"
"Fine," we rolled our eyes at his entirely reasonable wariness and, casting Disillusionment Charms on ourselves just in case, moved on.
Unlike in canon, with a basilisk on his side, Quirrell hadn't been nearly as careful passing the trials. Doors had been torn out along with parts of the walls, chess pieces were scattered everywhere as if someone had been playing rough with them. The troll was as dead as the dog, and there was no sign of Snape's trial with the bottles and magical fire.
"Harry, you're on," we whispered, feeling like bowstrings drawn to the limit.
"Okay," the slightly pale boy nodded and, gripping his wand tightly, stepped forward, and we cautiously followed.
The final chamber was larger than we had expected—so large that the basilisk fit here easily, coiled around the room and now peering with odd curiosity into the same mirror Quirrell was gazing into.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry suddenly shouted at the wizard's back, but the spell shattered against a nonverbal shield, and Quirrell didn't even bother to turn around, continuing to examine the mirror.
"I kept wondering whether you would come here."
"Does he have eyes in the back of his head or what?!" we howled inwardly while the basilisk, having heard a new sound, tore its gaze from the mirror and looked at the noisy boy. We couldn't afford to delay our move.
"Glacius Maxima!" we shouted the spell in perfect sync, and a concentrated wave of cold covered the serpent's head, seeping through its nostrils straight into its brain.
"Blacks? It seems you skipped your studies of magical creatures, or you would know ordinary magic doesn't work on a basilisk," Quirrell finally turned toward us with a confident smirk.
"And you should study biology, stutterer," we shot back to the heavy thud of the snake's head hitting the ground; it had passed out from the ultra‑sharp drop in brain temperature.
"Leave the boy, kill the others!" a roar full of rage rang out. Hearing it, we immediately began preparing a paired spell, calling forth water.
"As you command, my Lord."
"Avada Kedavra!" The green bolt that should have hit Regulus was taken by a huge ice serpent, leaving a hole in it that immediately began to close up.
"Not bad, but it won't help you."
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry's spell was easily deflected by another shield. And the ice dragon which was supposed to serve as a shield against the Killing Curse was, with the professor's next wand movement, simply torn to pieces.
"You're still children; you're no match for me."
"We'll see about that!" we snapped, sending a pair of Stunners through Regulus while Andromeda hurried to recreate a smaller version of the serpent.
In response, the newly formed snake was instantly blasted to bits. A green curse followed right after; we only dodged it thanks to the seconds we had won and our good physical training.
"Enough playing! Finish them!" Suddenly Quirrell convulsed in pain, and Harry's next spell, whistling over the wizard's head, left a gouge in the mirror's frame.
"Y‑yes, my Lord," Quirrell hissed, growing more savage.
"Stop getting in the way, Potter. Crucio!"
"AAAAAAH!" the boy screamed in pain at once, collapsing to the floor.
"Stay there," Quirrell threw at him as he lay on the ground, trying to catch his breath; then the wizard turned his gaze on us, and it became clear: if we didn't resort to extreme measures, we were done. We had never even tried to use Avada, so it likely wouldn't work properly; which meant…
Even before he could point his wand at us, we made up our mind.
"Kocytus…"
"That will be enough," Dumbledore's voice suddenly rang out as he touched our shoulders, and we felt as if a pulse ran through our bodies, breaking off the spell. A red bolt flew from his wand and met Quirrell's Avada halfway, sending the curse ricocheting into the wall.
"Liberci—… Professor?" we finished the incantation out of momentum before looking up at the newcomer in surprise. We had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be "on support" because of how tense things were.
"Dumbledore," Voldemort's growling voice sounded. "Let me speak to him."
"My Lord?"
"Immediately!"
The Headmaster did not rush to attack, calmly watching the actions of the possessed wizard, while we hurried over to Harry, who had already managed to sit up, leaning on his hand.
"How are you?"
"I'll live. Is that it? Did we win?" the boy asked anxiously, looking at us with hope.
"Yes, it'll be alright now," we smiled, helping him to his feet. "For now, let's just watch."
Meanwhile, under the old man's patient gaze, Quirrell removed his turban and turned his back to us, revealing a disgusting noseless face where the back of his head should have been.
"Life has been rough on you, Tom."
"That's none of your business, old man. You may have won this time, but there won't be another like it, because I am eternal!"
"My Lord?!" Quirrell called out in panic.
"You have failed, Quirrell," the Dark Lord said in an deceptively calm tone.
"No, my Lord, it's not over yet…" Quirrell babbled in panic, but in the next moment his body was torn apart, spraying blood over everything within five meters, and in his place appeared a black clump, vaguely resembling a human face, which instantly shot upward and escaped through the ceiling.
"…," after a few moments of silence, slightly shocked by such an ending, we finally came back to our senses and looked at the Headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore."
"Yes?"
"Dibs on the basilisk," we said, pointing at the basilisk, which by then had died from brain hypothermia during all that had happened.