“You’re joking.”
“Na!”
“Harry, please, tell me your joking.”
“Ni, I’m na joking. It was him! Voldemort!”
Ron winced and said, “Don’t say the name!”
Hermione asked, “How do you know, Harry?”
Harry gave an exasperated sigh and asked, “Well, who else who i’ be? ‘E’s the one who gave me this scar. It ‘ad ter ‘ave been him.”
“Your sure about this?”
“Yeh!”
Niamh frowned and looked at Ron and Hermione. “But why would he be in the forest?”
“Unicorn blood c’n save ye, even if yer an inch from death.”
“Harry, how do you know these things.”
“I read, Ni. Now look. Professor Dumbledore tol’ me Voldemort (“Stop saying the name,” hissed Ron) vanished after ‘e killed me parents. ‘E did’na say ‘e’d died. So, whose ter say that was’n him out there?”
Niamh sighed, “Harry…”
“Oh, c’mon, Ni. Me scar! I think i’ connects me an’ ‘im.”
“Why do you think that?” asked Hermione.
“Because no one else ‘as ever made my scar hurt as badly as i’ did in the forest. It’s him. I know i’.”
“So,” said Hermione, “what’s he doing here?”
Ron and Niamh both looked at Harry, who was staring off into space.
“Goo’ question. What would ‘e be doin’ here?”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
A few days later Harry and Niamh were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, listening to Quirrell go on an on about…something. They hadn’t been listening for a while. In fact, they had been talking.
“Has your scar been hurting anymore, Harry?”
“Na. I’d’ve told ye if i’ had.”
“Really?”
“Yeh, Ni. Yer me friend. Why would I ‘ide something’ like tha’ from you?”
Niamh smiled.
“I’m glad you think of me as a friend, Harry.”
“Yer welcome. Ow!”
“Harry, what’s…Oh…”
Harry hissed in pain and clapped a hand over his scar. No one else in the room noticed, too busy either copying down notes or talking amongst themselves. Harry looked up and saw Quirrell turned around, his back towards them. His eyes locked on the back of his head and a flash of pain similar to the one he had gotten in the forest shot through his head. He hissed again and ducked down. The pain in his scar slowly ebbed away but he wasn’t paying attention to that anymore. He was putting two and two together.
A hand fell on his shoulder and he jumped, jerking his head up. Niamh looked at him with wide eyes and whispered, “Harry, what’s wrong?”
Harry looked at Quirrell’s still turned back, keeping his eyes away from the back of his head. A cold smile twisted his lips as he replied, “I figured i’ out, Ni.”
“What?”
“Why Voldemort is ‘ere.”
Niamh gasped then they both quickly picked up their quills as Quirrell turned back around.
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
The next day being Saturday, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Niamh all met in an empty classroom. Harry cast a Sound Proof Charm on the room then turned back to his three friends.
Ron asked, “So, what’s with all the secrecy, Harry?”
“I figured i’ out.”
“What?” asked Hermione.
“Why Voldemort is ‘ere.”
Ron and Hermione gaped. Harry smiled weakly at them then began to speak.
“Alrigh’, if Voldemort is ‘ere, wha’ would ‘e naturally do?”
Ron frowned but Hermione only took a moment to think of it.
“He’d go after you.”
“Exactly! An’ who ‘as done tha’?”
Ron frowned some more then said, “Snape?”
Harry and Niamh scowled at him and he gulped then said in a shaking voice, “Q-Q-Quirrell?”
“Excellen’ impersenat’n. Yeh, Quirrell. ‘E tried ter kill me a’ the match.”
“But,” said Hermione, “what does You-Know-Who have to do with Professor Quirrell.”
Harry sighed and said, “Quirrell is Voldemort.”
“What!!” said both Ron and Hermione.
“In Defense yesterday, Quirrell turned ‘round and I ‘ad pain in me scar again. An’ there’s on’y pain in me scar when….”
“…You – Voldemort is around,” finished Niamh, faltering for a moment when Harry glared at her.
“So, your saying You-Know-Who is Quirrell? How can that be?”
Harry sighed and shrugged.
“I doan know. But, I do know one t’ing. If Voldemort was drinkin’ unicorn blood ter stay alive, e’s lookin’ fer somethin’ else. Somethin’ that’ll keep ‘im alive longer.” He gave Hermione a pointed look as he said this.
“Oh! The Stone! That’s it, isn’t it?”
Harry nodded.
“The Stone. The Elixir of Life. ‘E wants it.”
“Shouldn’t we tell Dumbledore?” asked Ron.
“Goo’ idea.”
“Hold on.”
The three of them looked at Niamh, who was frowning.
“What?” asked Ron.
“Hermione, you told me that Hagrid had gotten that dragon egg from a stranger in a pub.”
“Yes.”
“So, what sort of stranger carries around dragon eggs in their pockets? And just so happens to give it to Hagrid who – if you remember our time with him, Herm – wants nothing else in the world but a dragon.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in then they all went, “Oh.”
Harry quickly said, “Ni, Herm, Ron, ye go ask ‘Agrid about tha’ dragon egg.”
“Where are you going?” asked Ron as Harry turned and took the Sound Proof Charm off the room then ran out the door.
Niamh yelled after him, “Where are you going!”
“Ter talk ter McGonagall!!”
“Why?”
“Jus’ go talk ter ‘Agrid, fool!”
Niamh frowned then grabbed Ron and Hermione’s arms and growled, “Let’s go.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
Harry flew down the halls, ducking past other students and even running down little Professor Flitwick, who he paused to help back up. When he finally got to McGonagall’s office, he was panting slightly, but not enough to hamper his voice.
“Professor!”
McGonagall looked up from whatever she was doing at her desk and said, “Mr. Potter. Is there a problem?”
“I need ter see Professor Dumbledore.”
“Professor Dumbledore is away. He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic.”
Harry gasped, “Gone? Now? I need ter talk ter ‘im!”
McGonagall frowned and said, “Professor Dumbledore has other things to do other than run this school, Mr. Potter. Nothing could possibly be more important that the Ministry.”
“But this is abou’ the Sorcerer’s Stone!”
“What? How do you know about the Stone?”
“Nevermin’ tha’! Someone’s goin’ ter steal i’!”
McGonagall frowned again and snapped, “I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, Mr. Potter, but I assure you, it is very well protected. Now, return to you dormitory.”
“Professor…”
“Now, Mr. Potter.”
Harry sighed and left the room, kicking the wall and hissing an acid curse as he walked on.
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
“Well?”
“She did’n believe me. An’ Dumbledore’s gone!”
“Gone?”
“Ministry business. What did ye find out from ‘Agrid?”
“You were right,” said Niamh.
Hermione nodded and said, “He got it from a stranger in a pub. And talked to him about Fluffy.”
“Fluffy?” gasped Harry.
“The three-headed dog.”
“Tha’ thing is called Fluffy?”
“Apparently. Anyway, Hagrid was talking to us and then he let it slip how to get past Fluffy.”
“Ter the trap door.”
“Yes. And if he told us…”
Harry gaped at Hermione. “’E probably told the stranger in the pub.”
“Exactly.”
“Damn. Tha’ must’ve been Quirrell.”
“So, now what?” asked Ron.
“We go down the trap door,” said Harry. “Tonigh’.”
/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/
“Ow! Get off my foot!”
“Sorry, Herm.”
“Will the both o’ ye shut up? I’m na in the mood ter ge’ caugh’ by Filch again.”
“Sorry, Harry.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
Harry sighed and the four of them crept forward under the invisibility cloak.
< Harry. >
Harry jumped in surprise then hissed, Don’t do that, Jardin!
< Sorry. >
Nevermind. Filch anywhere in sight?
A pause then…..
< No. Mrs. Norris is wandering about up here but nothing else. >
Norri? Did she see you?
< Possibly. But she didn’t run for Filch. >
Must’ve smelled me on you.
< Pardon? >
Nevermind. Just keep an eye out for Filch, Jar.
< I will. >
Ron whispered, “What’d he say?”
Harry replied, “’E said Filch is nowhere in sigh’. We’re safe.” He had only told Ron and Hermione about Jardin’s rather special ability of speech just before they had set off. Hermione had believed him, having read about the type of bird Jardin was, but Ron had only believed after Jardin had talked to him in a rather snappy way that had reminded Harry of Snape.
They crept on down the hallways until they finally came to the entrance to the third floor corridor, shedding the invisibility cloak. Harry tucked it into a hidden alcove then straightened, allowing Jardin to take up his perch on his shoulder. Looking at his friends, he said, “Le’s go.”
Ron pulled the door open and they all slipped inside.
The End.