"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
"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 90 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...
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,
"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."
"NOF 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
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
"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.
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
"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
"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."
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.
THE MAN WITH TWO FACES
It was Quirrell.
"You!" gasped Harry.
Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.
"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."
"But I thought — Snape - — "
"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either,
but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have
him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor,
st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"
Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.
"But Snape tried to kill me!"
"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked
me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my
eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd
have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying
to save you."
"Snape was trying to save me?"
"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "\Why do you think he wanted to referee your
next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he
needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the
other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did
make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going
to kill you tonight."
Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves
tightly around Harry.
"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like
that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."