It was calling to him, whispering softly. He glided across the cold stone floor of Hogwarts, carefully hidden beneath the invisibility cloak. No one would dare stop him- not tonight. Not when it lured him in so gently, not when the world behind him stopped in a blurry picture.
And there it was- the old wooden door, leading to whatever grandiose challenges no doubt protected the stone. Would he be strong enough? Would he be too late? But no, he couldn't be- for Quirrell was still teaching, still terrified at the prospect of failing his master. Once again, Harry gently placed his hand on the door and willed it to open. Once again it creaked and crumbled beneath his will. The air seemed different this time, as if recognizing a true contestant for the stone, and the three headed dog sniffed and snarled trying desperately to catch Harry.
He wasted no time, not wishing for the creature to wake the castle up, and quietly took out a beautifully carved silver flute he had borrowed from Flitwick. Praying the guardian wouldn't notice he had no idea how to actually play it, he brought it to his lips and a gentle tune carried on. The music seemed to echo in the small empty room, creating a truly haunting melody which made the hairs on the back of his neck stand. The longer he stood by the door playing, the louder it seemed to get, surrounding the creature as it moved its three heads sharply, trying to figure out the source of the music- until finally it opened its eyes wide and with a loud whimper slowly lowered its heads to the ground, where it promptly fell asleep.
Harry had no desire finding out how long it would stay that way and he hurried towards the trap door located right beside the creature. It looked like a dark and bottomless drop down, but the obscurity was more inviting than the brightest fire and so with a smile, he jumped down.
Down right into a moist plant. Yew. He tried getting up but found the plant to be sticky and it covered his hand with.... "Oh, that's gross," he groaned quietly as he tried wiping away the substance. He was partially blind from the darkness and his outstretched hand touched the dump wall. He was just about to reach for his wand when a wet crawling sound reached his ears. How did he not notice it before? It filled the room, disgusting and uncomfortable, as if a hundred snakes where slithering on the floor.
And then he felt it- a slight pressure on his feet, spreading up towards his thighs as the plant twisted itself around him in its deadly embrace. He tried not to panic, he really did- but he felt trapped and the air was leaving his lungs faster and faster but whatever little air he could breathe in was wet and moist and clang to his throat and refused to complete its journey. He felt warmer and warmer as he was being covered- by his own sweat or by the plant, he didn't know, but the panic was settling and he did the only thing he could- he screamed.
People never posed a real threat on him, they were predictable and common and usually beat with force. But plants living in the darkness were unbeatable, hundreds of years old, withstanding empires and wars, growing stronger and stronger for the sole purpose of preservation and survival. But Harry grew in the darkness just like them, and he too became stronger in order to survive. The only difference? He stepped into the light, and burned brighter than the wildest of fires. And in that moment, as he was suffocated by the warmth and his own screams, he stepped into the light once more- and burned.
His skin was on fire and the plant surrounding him quickly retreated, but in his unstopping terror he only burned brighter, a fire spreading out from his hands and up his arms, and as he touched the ground the plant went up in flames. Finally he was calm, looking around him at the beautiful yellow and orange painting the walls. The room stretched for miles and throughout it all a massive fire was destroying the last remains of the plant.
As he dropped down once again, he couldn't help but feel at peace at the sight of such beauty.
***
His footsteps were silent and dangerous as what he had just experienced settled in. He wouldn't make such carless mistakes once more, he wouldn't let his guard down. The corridor was long and cold, miles and miles beneath the school- What was it build for? And by whom?
Quiet buzzing began sounding from the locked door at the end of the hall, but Harry didn't want to touch it or anything else, his hand still sticky and warm. And so it opened for him just as he reached it, because he so desired, and, as he ignored the flying keys the room contained, the second door opened for him too.
He stood in front of enormous chess pieces on top of a huge marble chess board. A distant thought of Ron crossed his mind, as he remembered the countless times he saw the boy playing chess in the common room. With a sigh he moved towards the large black knight and caressed the horse gently. Immediately it sprang to life and pawed at the ground.
"I am guessing I have to win," he moved his head slightly towards the door hidden behind the white chess pieces. The empty face of the knight unsettled him and it nodded in agreement. "I'll play the king."
He watched as the regale looking chess piece took long, heavy steps off the board and he walked and took its place. The Queen turned its head towards him, her beautifully carved features reminded him of Amare. "Shall we, my Queen?" It could have been a play of the light, but he could swear he saw the tips of its lips lift up.
"Right... Pawn to D4!"
The game was cruel and unforgiving. Each chess piece lost would be torn to shreds, and the numbers were stacking up. The Whites were clever and cunning, managing to block most of his strategies. But Harry was determent and unforgiving and the door moved closer and closer with each small victory.
After half an hour, Harry still stood in his place as the King and commander. He watched the now wrecked board with only a few pieces left. Logically the next move was obvious to all but his eyes frantically moved from one piece to another as he ran through various scenarios. His Queen stood proud and tall and as it turned its head towards him, he saw not a stone piece but Amare.
He knew this would come the moment he began playing, for her fate was sealed as he chose the safest strategy- The Queen's Gambit. His eyes were cold and empty as he sacrificed his Queen. She looked at him as she broke down, stone by stone, and Harry couldn't help but shudder at the single tear rolling down her cheek. A quick shake of his head and the Queen was once again just a stone chess piece, and he himself was crowned victor- but fear planted itself in his heart, its roots deep and cold, and not for the first time he wondered if he was leading his Queen to sacrifice.
***
When Harry thought about the dangers guarding the stone he never imagined a single mirror standing in an empty room. It was almost as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. He took off the invisibility cloak and stood silently, watching. The moment his reflection reached the mirror something changed- he no longer stood alone but with three figures surrounding him. He quickly looked behind but saw only the door he had come from. Moving closer, the figures took shape, and with a start he recognized Amare standing near him at the front. She was smiling at mirror Harry and once she noticed him standing, she smiled at him too.
His parents. Those were the two older figures standing behind them. His heart clenched painfully as he watched them smiling at him, their hands touching mirror Harry's shoulders. They were so young, so painfully young, and Harry couldn't stop himself from running towards them and desperately trying to touch the surface- as if it would magically transport him to them.
Happiness and contentment, that was what mirror Harry must have felt- happiness and contentment and so much love.
He didn't know how long he stood there, transfixed, he only knew he never wanted to leave.
"Why did you leave me..." he murmured. He already discovered they weren't able to answer but he wanted- no, he needed- to talk to them. "Do you think you could have loved me, despite it all?" Lily's smile turned sad and she brought a hand to her heart.
"I have never known you, and yet I miss you every. single. day." His eyes burned with unshed tears, "Why could you not have taken me with you? We could have been happy- I could have been happy." They didn't answer, just continued smiling sadly," You left me alone! I needed you, and you left me!" his whispers turned to yells, and his hands griped the frame. He was surprised to discover he was angry- angry at his parents, angry he had to sufferer, angry he was alone and confused and abandoned. He was angry they had to die. "How is any of this fair?" his broken whisper echoed around the empty room.
He couldn't bear watching them and yet he couldn't turn away. What a fitting final task, because how could he have ever beat his heart's desire.
"Stupid stone," he angrily sighed," not worth it at all."
At his words Lily's face lit with joy. She pulled something out of her pocket and outstretched her hand towards him.
It was a blood- red stone. The fucking Philosopher's stone was hidden inside the mirror. Harry wanted to personally punch Dumbledore.
Lily kept her hand outstretched and her face turned urgent. "I can't reach inside the mirror!"
She began mouthing something. He focused for a second until he figured out what she was saying, over and over again- 'take it, take it, take it'.
"I can't!" if only he could reach out, if only he could touch her hand. Mirror Harry smiled and took the stone from Lily and proceeded to put it inside his pocket. Suddenly Harry felt something heavy drop inside his very real pocket.
The Elixir of Life was in his hand. He looked at the figures in the mirror, finally smiling just as wide. Amare mouthed one single word- 'Go'.
"I will see you soon." He promised her and proceeded to ran towards the door. Casting one last look behind him, he wanted to carve his parents figures into his very being. They smiled and waved, their faces lit up by a yellow light.
And behind them Britain burned.