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Chapter Text

💎Chapter 18💎

Their footsteps echoed through the empty halls.

The halls, which were usually filled to the brim with students making their way to classes, were now void. While that alone put the four students on edge, after their run in with Neville, their nerves were running high. Suddenly, it was as if every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them.

A sudden meow traveled through the halls and they froze. Mrs. Norris was laying on the first step, cleaning herself.

As quietly as they could, they scooted their way around her. Mrs. Norris stared at them with her lamp like eyes, but made no move to alert Filch. And after that, much to their relief, the way to the third floor corridor was quiet.

It was only when they were on the third floor, getting ready to turn into the corridor that held the room with Fluffy when they spotted Peeves, who was loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he called, jerking up suddenly, narrowing his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?" He grinned wickedly and began floating in the air. "Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

"Peeves," Harry said in a hoarse voice, causing Ciara to nearly jump out of her skin. "The Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake — I didn't see you — of course I didn't, you're invisible — forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," Harry croaked, "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," Peeves groveled, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

Then he dashed off as fast as he could.

"Brilliant, Harry!" Ron whispered.

They turned back towards the door and Ciara's heart fell to her stomach.

The door, the door that led to Fluffy, was already ajar.

"Shit," Ciara swore.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

Before they could walk in, Harry turned.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the Cloak, I won't need it now."

"Harry," Ciara frowned.

"Don't be stupid," Ron said.

"We're coming," Hermione said.

Harry pushed the door open.

Low rumbling slipped out of the room as they eased the door open. All of Fluffy's heads sniffed the air in their direction madly, but they didn't attack, as you couldn't attack something you couldn't see.

A harp laid abandoned at the dog's feet.

"Snape must have left it there," Ron mumbled.

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes nothing..."

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. Ciara cringed, It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note, the beast's eyes began to droop. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased — it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as the cloak slipped from their shoulder and onto the floor. Fluffy's hot, stinky breath blew the hair out of their faces.

"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"Oh, shove over," Ciara snipped, pushing them both out of the way as she climbed over Fluffy's legs to where the trap door laid.

Though Harry was still playing his flute, his focus drifted towards Ciara. At least, he expected her to hesitate before doing what she did. Worst case scenario (or best case scenario, in Harry's opinion) Ciara agrees to take the cloak and slip back to the common room, where she stays, safe.

But Ciara was not one to back down from a challenge, and true in her own Ciara fashion, she never hesitated before opening the trap door and jumping into the abyss below.

✨💎⚡

She didn't fall for long, but when she landed at the bottom, she nearly went airborne.

She wasn't entirely sure what she landed on, but it was quite bouncy, given that as soon as she hit it, she flew up into the air a couple feet before she hit the floor again with a loud THUMP!

The darkness was too thick to see, so Ciara felt around the floor and was very surprised to find it was soft. It almost felt like she landed on a plant.

"It's okay!" She called upward, "It's a soft landing! You can come down!"

And one by one, Harry, Ron, and Hermione fell down the hole, landing around her with loud THUMPS!

Ron's eyes narrowed in confusion as he peered around the ground. "What is this stuff?"

"Some sort of plant." Ciara said with a shrug, "I suppose it's here to break the fall.

Hermione, who landed beside Harry, glanced up at the exit that was now well beyond their reach. "We must be miles under the school," she mused with pursed lips.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," Harry said.

"Lucky!" Hermione shrieked. "Look at you all!"

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall, doing her best to avoid the snakelike tendrils of the plant that had wrapped themselves around her ankles. Ciara glanced down and found her legs bound together by the plant and one sneaky tendril had wrapped itself around her stomach, tightening to the point it knocked the wind out of her.

Harry and Ron weren't any better off.

Ciara was able to grab the vine around her stomach and rip it off, but no sooner than she did, another one came and wrapped itself around her neck. With a strangled choke, Ciara's hands flew to her neck in a vain attempt to free herself. The vine tightened its hold on her and more vines flew over her body.

She could vaguely hear her friends calling for her in desperation, but oddly, she could barely hear them. It was like they were on another side of a wall.

Maybe they got back out... she thought, her eyes drifting close.

'CIARA!!'

She jolted upward, much needed air pouring into her lungs. Her throat burned with a vicious fire as she breathed. Her foggy vision began to clear slightly and she could see her friends had circled around her, all of them looking at her in concern.

She winced and before she even attempted to sit up, Harry pulled her into a rib breaking hug. The sudden movement jolted her mind, and she suddenly became aware of the bruises on her body.

"I thought I was gonna lose you," he whispered.

Ciara paused, feeling the fear and pain passing through their bond, before returning his hug with vigor.

'You won't,' she told him.

And that's all he needed to hear.

Harry pulled away and Ciara cleared her throat and winced; flames seemed to be licking her throat every time she breathed. She fumbled around for a moment before finding her wand, laying a few feet away from where she had landed.

Grasping her wand tightly in her hand, she cleared her throat, the flames licking her throat again and she said in a croaky voice, "Episkey."

Sparks leapt from her wand and the flames of pain were quickly soothed, much to Ciara's relief. She glanced up at the others, who were staring at her in concern and smiled, though it probably looked more like a grimace. "I'm okay."

No one believed her, but no one pressed the matter.

"C'mon," Harry said gently, grabbing her arms and helping her up. "We need to keep moving."

The gentle dripping of water accompanied their footsteps as they walked down the dark tunnel that was steadily sloping downward. For a horrifying moment, Ciara thought of Gringotts, with their winding tunnels, treacherous depths, poor lighting, and-

'What are the odds of Dumbledore having a dragon down here?'

'Shut up, Ciara.'

'Just checking.'

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

A soft rustling and clinking could be heard from up ahead and Ciara didn't have a damn clue on what it could be.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know . . . sounds like wings to me."

Look," Harry said, cutting off the only other people who could speak. "There's light ahead — I can see something moving."

The dark and cramped tunnel finally opened up into a brightly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. Small, brightly colored jewels dancing through the air, none of them seeming to be on a peculiar path. Across from them, on the other side of the room, a great big wooden door sat.

The four of them dashed across the room, nerves on edge and adrenaline high. If Ciara was being honest, she half expected the flying jewels to swoop down into them, cutting and brushing their exposed skin.

But when they arrived at the wooden door, nothing had happened. None of them were hurt.

That seemed to put Ciara even more on edge.

Though it seemed to not bother any of her friends, as they began to try and force the door open. Despite their best efforts, the door refused to open, even after Hermione tried the Alohomora Charm.

"Now what," Ron asked, saying what they all were thinking.

Ciara threw her head back with a groan, "At this rate, Snape's gonna get the stone before we can even get past the door."

No one said anything, but that only confirmed Ciara's statement. With nothing else left to do, Ciara looked up at the ceiling, watching the jewels float in the air.

"Keys!" Harry suddenly shouted, "Those aren't jewels, they're keys!"

"One of them has to be the one to unlock the door," Hermione said.

But which one was the question. Hundred upon hundreds of keys were floating, or rather, flying, around in the air. It would be near impossible to find the right one to open the door and even if they did, Snape will have the stone before they could find the right one! How were they ever-

"There!" Harry shouted, "That silver one with the broken wing!"

Oh, Ciara thought, that was quick.

Without hesitation, Harry leapt onto a broomstick that had been (conveniently) placed in the corner of the room and took off after the key. It had only taken a few minutes and, much to Ciara's surprise, nothing extremely terrible once they were finished. The only thing that was different was the unlocked door and the fact that everyone seemed to feel more optimistic about their mission.

They pushed open the door and stepped into a dark chamber, wands tight in hand. The door closed behind them and there was a sudden burst of light in the room.

Their optimism faded.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard that covered the majority of the floor. They stood among the black pieces, all of the painted figures standing tall and proud, facing the enemy head on. The white pieces did the same on the other side of the room, standing guard in front of the door, the door that would lead them closer to the sorcerer's stone.

"Now what?" Harry asked and despite the fact that he spoke in a hushed whisper, it echoed in the large room, causing his head to shoot upward when it did.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Ron said rhetorically, suddenly filled up to the brim with a cool, calm confidence. "We've got to play our way across the room."

"How," Hermione asked as she nervously bit on her lip.

Ron frowned thoughtfully, his band rows furrowed in concentration as he surveyed the room with a careful eye. "I think... I think we have to be the chess men."

With only a moment's hesitation, he walked up to one of the black knights and put his hand on the horse. The stone immediately sprang to life, the horse pawing at the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"May I," the ginger asked politely, and the knight jumped down from their horse, tilting his head to Ron in farewell before walking away, crumbling to dust as soon as they stepped off the cheese board.

Ciara watched the knight dusted away before crossing her arms, suddenly feeling a bit unease with how easily they were passing through the challenges.

'What,' Harry suddenly asked, staring at her with an incredulous look, 'Do you want them to be harder?'

'No, but I don't want to have something bit us in the arse because we were overly confident.'

"No offense guys," Ron said, breaking the pair out of their conversation, "But none of you lot are any good at chess."

Ciara snorted, "Thanks Ron."

"Well it's true-"

"We're not offended," Harry rushed, "Just tell us what to do."

Ron's face was scattered with emotions before he drew himself up, steeling in determination, "Harry, you take the place of that bishop. Hermione, you go there instead of that castle. Ciara, you'll take the place of the other castle."

The pieces in question shuffled off the board, dusting away just like the night had. Ciara nervously glanced up at Ron, who was strategically analyzing the board, "What are you going to be, Ron?"

"I'll be a knight."

As humorous as it was to watch Ron struggle onto the horse, Ciara could feel her nerves rising as she began clenching and unclenching her fists in order to vent some of her energy.

White moves first, she remembered, distantly hearing Ron echo her thoughts, now all we can do is play.

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces, staring at them with an analytic eye before calling for one to move. The cycle repeated relentlessly, all of the pieces moving wherever he sent them. Ciara never thought twice before stepping toward the square Ron would indicate. She had seen his level of skill over Christmas break, and she had complete faith in him to get them out unscathed.

There had been a few scares in question, namely when their knight was taken, the queen smashing it to bits before dragging it off the board. "Had to let it happen," Ron said shakily, "It leaves you free to take the bishop, Hermione."

The game went on, white and black pieces alike being taken off the board. There had been a few times where Ron had saved the other three from a danger they hadn't seen. He ordered pieces around the board, successfully saving them each time.

'Almost,' she caught Ron muttering when they were side by side, "Just a few more moves, c'mon... c'mon..."

And then, to Ciara's horror, The white queen turned her blank face towards Ron.

"Oh," Ron said, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him, "I'm going to be taken."

"NO!" Ciara shouted in horror, echoing to two fellow Gryffindors

"It's chess," Ron snapped, a sudden fire in his eyes. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I'll make my move 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!'

But what if you die, Ciara thought, but she didn't have the courage to voice such a daunting thought.

"Ready?" Ron called, his determined face ashy, and she admired his courage. "Here I go – now, don't hang around once you've won."

One step forward and the queen pounced, striking her stone sword around Ron's head and he crashed to the floor. Ciara screamed at the sight, silent tears rolling down her cheeks and it physically pained her not to try and help her friend. The queen was stoic and unforgiving as she dragged Ron off the chessboard throwing him to the side before marching back to her place.

Harry didn't waste a moment before stepping to the left, landing right in front of the king. The white piece took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won, but their victory was bittersweet at best. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. The trio sent Ron one last, desperate look before entering the next passageway.

'I could have stayed,' Ciara thought, her tears quickly drying, 'I could have tried to heal him.'

Harry reached out blindly and grabbed her hand, both oblivious to Hermione's looks, 'Don't think about it Ciara, we'll save him when we get back.'

'But will he be alive when we get back?'

He squeezed her hand tighter, 'Keep moving, Ciara.'

They only let go of each other's hands when they reached the next chamber, as a disgusting smell filled their nostrils, forcing them to pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they barely made out another mountain troll-- bigger than the one on Halloween! --lying on the floor in front of them, a bloody lump on its forehead.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered, as they walked around it, "Come on, I can't breathe."

They were all tense as Harry opened the next door, but there was no immediate threat in the room, only a table with seven oddly shaped bottles in row. Ciara glanced around the room, searching for anything that could prove to be a danger to them, finding nothing.

"This one's Snape's," Harry said grimly, "C'mon, lets go."

Crossing over the threshold, a purple fire sprung up from the ground, the flames licking at their heels. They all gave a short shout of surprise, only turning in time to see a wall of black flames shoot up in front of the other doorway. Ciara's heart sank to her stomach. They were trapped.

"Great," Harry exclaimed, tossing his arms in exasperation, "Now what do we do?"

In the corner of her eye, Ciara saw Hermione move towards the table, picking up a roll of paper from in front of the array of bottles. "Harry, come look at this," Hermione called, the witch and wizard crowding around Hermione to red it:

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, whichever 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 hidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,

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 onwards, 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 sagged in relief, the biggest smile Ciara had ever seen breaking across her face. "This is brilliant," she exclaimed, "It's not magic, it's logic! Most of the Greatest Wizards don't have the faintest lick of logic."

"Can you solve it?"

"Give me a moment, Harry. These things do take time."

Ciara didn't even bother holding in her snicker as Hermione paced the length of the table, muttering the riddle under her breath and pointing at certain bottles. Harry turned to Ciara a few minutes into the process, 'I kind of assumed that you would be the one to solve this one.'

She tilted her head curiously to the side, 'How do you figure?'

'Well, your last name is Riddle, after all...'

'Oh shut up, Potter,' she thought, sending a halfhearted swipe in the general direction of his cheeky grin. He giggled, still reasoning that his joke was hilarious, and she couldn't help but join in, her shoulders rising and falling in silent laughter.

"Got it," Hermione shouted, causing both of them to jump. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire — toward the Stone."

Harry plucked the tiny bottle from the table, turning it over in his hand as he eyed the white liquid.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said, "There's hardly one swallow."

They all gave each other a heavy look. One of them would have to stay.

"Hermione," Ciara asked, "Which one goes through the purple flames?"

It was the rounded bottle at the right end of the line, filled with a dull yellow liquid that combated the bright purple flames, and Ciara took it gently, turning it over in her palm before pressing it into Hermione’s hand.

"Take this," she said, "Go back and get Ron some help. The broom is still in the key chamber, you can fly it and get out of the trap door and past Fluffy. Send word to Dumbledore about the stone. We'll need him."

"Ciara," Harry said fiercely, just as Hermione shook her head in denial. "I'm not going to just leave you here!"

"You don't have a choice!" She shouted, throwing her arms about as her patience ran thin, "If we don't stop Snape from getting the stone, he'll bring Voldemort back! You'll be in danger for the rest of your life, and — and — why are you guys looking at me like that?"

The two Gryffindors were staring at her in terror, eyes perpetually locked on her right hand, which, she realized when she turned to look at it, was buried wrist deep in the black flames. She instantly screamed, more out of surprise than anything, which cause her two friends to scream in fear. Two sets of hands gripped her shoulders as they yanked her back. The flames followed, covering from her wrist to her hand and turning from dark black, to a bright green.

She waved her hand about in a vain attempt to extinguish the flames, when Harry came and began beating them with the sleeve of his shirt. Not a trace of smoke followed the extinguished flames, and she stared at her hands completely awe-struck. Not because of the damage the fire left behind, but because there wasn't any.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" She shouted over her friend's concerned and rushed questions about her health.

"Oh, Ciara" Hermione bemoaned, pulling out her wand with tearful, pitying eyes. "Let me heal you quickly, please."

"But I'm honestly fine, Hermione. Look!"

She raised her unscathed hands to show her fellow witch and wizard, who both raised their brows at the lack of damage, eyeing her hands with a look of confusion and relief. Hermione grabbed her hand quickly, but not uncaringly.

"B-b-but how!" She exclaimed, fingertips trailing over her skin. Harry was doing the same with her wrist, cradling the skin gently with his own hands while looking at with a critical eye. She felt almost lightheaded at the touch, and she wondered if this is what people felt when touch didn't equal broken bones or being hit with the cruciatus curse.

"The fire must surely be cursed! With the fact that we need a potion to pass through and the fact that it is one of the stone's last defenses, there is no way that Snape would risk Dumbledore's trust by placing a fake trap-!

"I don't think he did, Hermione," Harry stated, still looking at Ciara's wrist.

"And how do you know that, Harry!" Hermione screeched with a scowl, her hair seeming to flare with her irritation.

"Because I think that Ciara's bracelet has some form of protection charms on it."

"What?" Both of the witches' heads snapped toward the bracelet in question. Harry's fingers trailed over the metal band and dark green beads and Ciara noticed the differences instantly. Everything about her bracelet seemed darker; all of the silver bands and charms were now a dark gray, while the once jade green beads and ribbons were now a dark pine green. A bright green aura, the same color as the flames from earlier, pulsed gently around the bracelet, beating softly in tandem with her heartbeat.

Hermione quickly pulled the other girl's wrist out of Harry's hold, twisting and turning the girl's appendage non to gently to observe the bracelet. Neither saw Harry's scowl at Hermione's gruff movements.

"What kind of charms are these?" Hermione said, finally looking up after thoroughly examining Ciara's bracelet, "I've never seen anything like them."

"Her aunt probably covered it in protection charms," Harry shrugged with crossed arms, leaning with his hip against the table. The liquid in the bottles rippled softly at the force. "Professor Flitwick told me that she was naturally proficient in charms."

Ciara stared at him opened-mouthed, "You... you asked Professor Flitwick about my aunt?"

"Yeah, I mean," Harry looked down at the tabled bottles, not meeting her eyes, "Professor Sprout, Quirrell, Sinistra, and Snape were all employed after she left school and Professor McGonagall started Hogwarts after she had already left, but she became the charms Professor a few years after she graduated. Apparently she was the DADA teacher for a year before she transferred over to charms. Professor Flitwick became her teaching assistant during his sixth and seventh year before he joined the staff full time after graduating. She taught him everything he knows about charms.

"I was going to tell you at the lake," Harry stumbled on at her silence, "But then our scars started hurting and then we found out about Snape's plan, and—"

"Thank you," she choked out, throat suddenly swelling with emotion. Harry finally looked up from the bottles, wide emerald eyes staring at her mild brown ones, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. He stared for a moment, eyes scanning over her before settling back on her face. He nodded solemnly, eyes filled with understanding as they stared at each other silently. Out of everyone at Hogwarts, they were the only ones who could understand how the other was feeling.

The was the greatest comfort that they could ask for.

Ciara cleared her throat, breaking eye contact with Harry to look at Hermione, who was staring at the two with an unreadable expression on her face. "Hermione, you should drink that. The sooner you do, the sooner you can get to Ron and get us all help."

"But what if... what if You-Know-Who is there too?"

"I'll be fine," Harry said with a weak grin, pointing at his scar, "I've already beat him once as an infant, I doubt he will be able to touch eleven-year-old me now. And besides," he jabbed his thumb at Ciara, "I've got my good-luck charm here, and we both know she's more than willing to fist-fight someone who displeases her."

"Shut up, Harry."

The bushy-haired girl nodded, lips wobbling ever so slightly, before she dashed forward and pulled them into a hug. Harry squawked.

"Hermione!"

"Be safe," she gasped with teary eyes, "Both of you."

Ciara smiled, heart swelling in her chest, "You're a good friend, Hermione."

"And you are too—both of you are. You two are probably the greatest witch and wizard I've ever met."

The aforementioned first years blinked in surprise at the witch's compliment, staring in stunned silence as Hermione threw back the round bottle from the end of the table. She shuddered, face twisting like she ate a lemon.

"Are you okay," Ciara asked.

"It's not poison, is it?" Harry inquired anxiously.

"No—but it's freezing, like ice."

She turn, preparing to walk through the flames, before hesitating, looking back at them. "Be careful, you two. Please." 

She turned back around and walked into the purple flames.

"She's right, you know," Ciara stated after a few moments of silence. "You're a great friend, and a spectacular wizard."

"Are you sure," he asked, voice and eyes bother riddled with doubt, "I don't really feel like I am. I mean, other than you, I've never really had any friends before; more often than not, I don't really know what I'm doing."

Her determined expression wavered into a look of concern and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I might not have the greatest idea on what friends are supposed to be like, but I know that you're everything and more than I could want from a friend."

His gaze was turned downward, "I'm not as great as everyone thinks I am. They all think that I so great because of what my mother did for me, outside of you, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid, how can I trust that people will see me and care about me just beyond my name?"

"Hey," Ciara dipped her head to catch his eye, "Look at me." Emerald green eyes meet russet brown, and her gaze was as sweet as her voice, "You have worth outside of being The Boy Who Lived, okay? And I'm not talking about being heir to the Ancient House of Potter-"

"I'm what-?"

"But you have worth as just Harry... you don't need to be the supposed saviour of the wizarding world for people to care about you. You..." she paused, her voice trailing off, "You don't need to be that to make me care about you..."

"So," she said firmly after a moment of silence, grabbing the bottle filled with the white liquid and forced it into his hand. "Drink this damn potion and let's go kick my father's ass before he can get his hands on the stone."

"You're so violent," Harry chuckled weakly, still visibly taken aback by her earlier words, before draining the tiny bottle in a single gulp. His face twisted in the same way Hermione's had.

"All good," Ciara asked nervously.

"Yeah, just— Hermione was right, it's like ice."