Harry, Ron, and Hermione had survived pretty well since they plummeted into the trap door. Hermione had defeated the Devil's Snare plant and told Ron and Harry how to do it. Ron nearly had a heart attack, but they managed to get past it. They had gone through what they knew to be Snape's enchantment, also thanks to Hermione. She kept the three of them from being poisoned. The room with the winged keys had been next and up to Harry to complete. He had to fly on a broomstick because he was best at it out of the three. After finally catching the right key, he opened the door so the three of them could go into the next room to face the next challenge. They heard the keys fly into the door like knives behind them.
Darkness engulfed them as they stepped farther into the room they had gone into. Once they got so far inside, the lights finally came on and they could see where they were walking. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all widened their eyes, shocked by the sight before them. It was the biggest chess set either of them had ever seen.
"Whoa," Ron commented.
The floor was the chess board and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were a part of the pieces. They figured it out rather quickly when they walked toward the door on the other side of the room and the other pieces drew their swords, threatening to cause them harm. The trio retreated.
"I guess we have to play our way across the room," Harry stated.
Hermione gulped. "You don't suppose it's like real wizard's chess, do you?"
They looked at each other nervously.
Ron cleared his throat and spoke up. "There's only one way to find out. Knight to E-5."
The three of them watched as the piece moved to the space Ron had called out. The other side moved. A pawn destroyed the night by sticking it's sword through it. It was smashed into a billion tiny pieces.
Ron gulped. "Yes, Hermione. This is exactly like real wizard's chess."
Harry sighed. He wasn't very good at chess, but he knew that Ron was. "Ron, you're the best at this game. I think you should handle this room."
"Me?"
"Yes. I have complete faith in you. You'll get us out safely."
Ron suddenly became very nervous. "Okay then," he said with a sigh. "Hermione, you stand over there." He pointed to a space for her to go to. She walked over to it cautiously. "Harry, you take the empty space right next to her. You'll be pawns. As for me, I'll be a knight." He hopped on the stone horse's back. "Let's play."
It seemed like the longest game in the world to Harry, but they had finally made it down to the last few pieces after a only a short time. Ron really was the best chess player he had ever seen. He had done really good job so far, but now he seemed to be in a bind. Ron paused for a few minutes, unsure of what his next move would be.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
"I'm going to have to take the last piece," Ron told him. "Then the queen will take me and you'll be free to take the king."
Harry stared at him. "Ron, no."
Hermione frowned. "Why not? It sounds like a good plan to me."
"He's going to sacrifice himself."
"Ron, no!" she exclaimed. She hadn't understood what he meant. "There has to be another way!"
"It has to be done," Ron declared. He turned to Harry. "It has to be you that goes on. Not me, not Hermione, but YOU. This is the only way."
Harry licked his lips nervously. He knew it was the truth, but the thought of something happening to his best friend didn't sit well with him. He had not really thought about it though. Bringing Ron and Hermione along had just endangered them. He gave Ron the okay reluctantly. He and Hermione watched with nervous anticipation as Ron moved forward. He took the piece, which initiated the movement of the queen. She came forward to claim him. The queen destroyed the horse Ron was on and the impact from the blast threw him to the floor. He wasn't moving. Hermione started to move to help him.
"Don't move!" Harry shouted. Hermione froze. "Don't forget. We're still playing."
Hermione nodded. She had almost ruined Ron's sacrifice. Harry moved forward to the king. He looked up at the tall statue.
"Checkmate," Harry said.
The king let go of his sword and it fell down at Harry's feet. The game had been won. Harry didn't waste his time destroying the chess piece though. He motioned for Hermione to joing him and he ran over to Ron. Harry immediately checked for a pulse. Much to his relief, Ron was breathing.
"What are we going to do now?" Hermione asked quietly. "Ron can't go on like this and I can't leave him."
Harry sighed. It was true. "I'll have to go on and you will have to take Ron to the Hospital Wing. He needs to be looked at. Then go to the owlery and get a message to Dumbledore. Ron was right. I have to go on."
Hermione nodded. "It's going to be alright. You can do this. You're a really great wizard, Harry. I know you are."
He smiled. Her words flattered him. "I'm not as good as you."
She blushed. "Me? Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Friendship, bravery. And, Harry, just be careful."
Harry nodded. He took one last look at his fallen friend and then at Hermione. He turned and headed for the door, not looking back. He went through the door.
The room he walked into was already lit this time. There was a set of stairs. At the very bottom was the Mirror of Erised, and standing in front of the mirror was none other than Professor Quirrell. The torches flared up, alerting him to Harry's presence. He slowly turned. A stabbing pain surged through Harry's head. His scar was hurting again.
"It was you!" Harry exclaimed.
"Yes. It was me. I tried to kill you, I let the troll into the dungeons, and I am the one who disposed of your mother."
Harry swallowed nervously, horrified. What did he mean by that?
"Who would ever suspect p-poor s-stuttering Professor Quirrell?"
"What did you do to my mum?"
"Took care of her. Don't hinder me with questions now, boy. I only need to figure out how to get the Sorcerer's Stone. This mirror puzzles me."
Harry walked down the stairs toward him, stopping near the bottom. He didn't want to get too close.
"Now, what does this mirror do? I see what I desire. I see myself holding the stone, but how do I get it?" Quirrell asked in frustration.
Use the boy, a voice whispered.
Harry searched all around him for the source of the cold voice, but he saw no one besides himself and Quirrell, who was going to obey the voice. Harry stood frozen.
"Come here, Potter!" the man yelled.
Harry slowly walked toward him. It was like his feet couldn't resist. He stopped and stood there in front of the mirror.
"Tell me," Quirrell whispered. "What do you see?"
Harry stared at the mirror. He saw himself with the stone. His image held it up in front of him and put it safely into his pocket. His reflection winked. Suddenly he felt his pocket bulge and he glanced down discretely. His pocket was out a lot farther than it had been before. He felt it. He had the Sorcerer's Stone! He swallowed hard. He was going to have to lie and he was going to have to be convincing.
"I see myself holding the house cup. I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry answered.
The voice whispered again. He lies.
Quirrell was getting angry. "Tell the truth, Potter!" he yelled. "What do you see?"
Harry stared at him. That was his story, the house cup, and he was sticking to it.
Let me speak to him.
Harry suddenly realized who the voice was when his scar started to burn again. It was the only one who could make his scar hurt: Voldemort.
Quirrell protested. "Master, you are not strong enough."
I am strong enough for this.
Reluctantly, Quirrell took his turban off. there in the mirror Harry could see the back of his head. He was sharing it with Voldemort.
"Harry Potter," Voldemort whispered.
Harry's eyes widened. "Voldemort."
"We meet again. See what I've become? See what I must do to stay alive? Live off another, a mere parasite. But I don't have to stay like this forever. No. There is something that can bring me back, something that conviently enough lies in your pocket."
His eyes widened in alarm and Harry tried to run.
"Stop him!" Voldemort hissed.
Harry heard Quirrell snap his fingers and fire erupted all around him. He couldn't go anywhere. He was trapped.
"Flee and die," Voldemort hissed. "Join me and live."
"Never!" Harry screamed.
Voldemort laughed. "Bravery. Your parents had it too. We could do great things together, Potter. Extraordinary things. I could bring your parents back. Just give me the stone!"
"You liar!" Harry shouted. His parents were dead. No one could bring them back or they would have already.
"Kill him!" Voldemort shouted.
Quirrell didn't hesitate to obey. He pounced forward and wrapped his hand around Harry's throat. The other he used to hold him down, pressing against his chest. Harry fell backwards with Quirrell baring down on him. A clank against the steps caught his attention. Harry glanced to the side. The Sorcerer's Stone had fallen on the steps. He reached for it, but it was too far away for him to close his hand around. Harry could feel the oxygen leaving his lungs. If he didn't do something quick, he was going to die.
Harry reached up with his free hand and tried to pry Quirrell off of him. The moment their skin touched, Quirrell's started to burn. He screamed and let go. Harry's eyes widened as Quirrell's hand disentigrated right in front of him. Harry looked his hands over, searching for the source of that power. Had he really just done that by touching the man?
"What is this magic?" Quirrell shrieked.
"Get the stone!" Voldemort hissed.
He lunged at Harry again, but this time he was ready for him. Instead of using one hand, Harry used both of his hands and placed them forecefully on Quirrell's face. The man screamed and staggered backwards. His skin was turning to dust. He tried to walk toward Harry again, but he fell into a pile of dust before he could reach him. Harry studied his hands again. He had no idea he had the power to do that. It scared him a little bit. He glanced to the side. The Sorcerer's Stone was still lying there waiting for someone to pick it up. He bent down to get it. He smiled. He had done it. He got the stone.
A faint whispering caused him to turn around. There was a spirit form of something behind him. He saw the face of Voldemort and the mass flew right through him. Harry cried out, the pain too much for him to bear, and he fell backwards on the steps, unconscious.