Chapter 10

Headmaster's office. 4:00 PM.

Two people were sitting at a luxurious desk - the headmaster himself and a full-figured, middle-aged red-haired woman in a rather tattered robe. On the desk was a sheet of parchment with the text of a marriage contract on it.

- 'I am glad, Albus, that you have finally decided to prepare this document. Ginny will be a perfect match for Harry, we mustn't let the poor boy go to one of those pureblood bitches," Molly Weasley's last words were filled with a strong contempt for most noble pureblood wizards and mages. The red-haired woman had hated all noble families since her days at Hogwarts, and she came from one such family. Molly was an ardent liberal radical who advocated a complete rejection of all magical traditions.

- I think it's the right thing for Harry. He shouldn't be associating with members of dark families. Now Molly, sign the contract, good thing they extended the right to sign marriage contracts to all parents, not just the father of the family.

- Thanks to Albus for getting this project through the Wizengamot. Unfortunately for me, Arthur is a moron. But I'm sure he'll support our decision because it's for the good of Ginny and Harry," the red-haired woman said.

But no sooner had Molly Weasley put quill to parchment to sign the contract than the door to the study opened abruptly and an angry black-haired wizard burst into the room.

- Lady Le Fey, what are you doing here? - The old wizard said worriedly, peering into Morgana's green glowing eyes.

- 'Dumbledore, I would like to know why my artefact is at Hogwarts. The wishing mirror shouldn't be here, and why Harry managed to find it! - The black-haired girl screamed.

- How dare you talk to Albus like that! You slut Morgana, you pure bastard," Molly said in her distress.

- 'Flagellum,' Morgana said in a high-pitched voice, and a few moments later the red-haired fat girl was lifted into the air by several orange ropes, followed by a whip of fire across the Weasley matriarch's back. Dumbledore tried to help his companion but was thrown back against the wall by Morgana, unable to move.

- If I were you, you pathetic blood traitor, I'd watch who says what to whom," Morgana hissed, and then cast several more spells on the red-haired fat man. Unconscious from the intense pain shock, Weasley collapsed to the floor like a broken doll.

- Hmm, interesting wand, Hela will be glad to have it back," the black-haired beauty smiled warmly as she twirled the older wand Morgana had taken from Dumbledore.

- So, back to the main question: where is my Mirror? Answer me, old man! - she said angrily, stepping with her heel on the hand of Dumbledore, who was lying on the floor.

- It is safely hidden, and you will not find it," Dumbledore wheezed in pain as Morgana used several powerful spells on him as well.

- We'll see about that," Morgana said and walked out of the Headmaster's office.

As soon as she was gone, the old wizard crawled with difficulty to his desk and opened the bottom drawer, took out a vial of restorative potion and quickly drank the liquid, Dumbledore summoned Madam Pomfrey, a healer devoted to him personally, and together with her carried the unconscious Molly Weasley to the ward.

- 'Bloody witch,' the old manipulator whispered, noticing a sheet of parchment burned from the quick duel.

*****

Three months had passed since the conversation with the Headmaster, during which time Harry had tried to avoid Dumbledore's provocations, the Headmaster had tried various ways to induce Potter to go into the Forbidden Corridor, from a planted newspaper about a failed attempt to rob Gringotts Bank to a specially organised conversation between the Headmaster and Hagrid. This conversation took place in the corridor outside the library as Harry went to turn in the books he had read.

All of the Headmaster's attempts to talk Harry into the Forbidden Corridor did not elicit the reaction Dumbledore wanted from Potter. Only a Gryffindor could fall for the Headmaster's tricks, but Harry was a Slytherin student, and like any member of that faculty, Potter didn't want to risk himself for no apparent gain.

The Slytherin decided to watch the Philosopher's Stone from the sidelines for the time being. By pure coincidence, Harry found out about the artefact being at the school a couple of days after the Christmas holidays had ended. Potter was initially reluctant to get involved, but during an overheard fake conversation between Dumbledore and Hagrid, Harry didn't hesitate when he heard the last name Flamel.

**********************

Sitting by the fireplace in the Slytherin sitting room, Harry was eating a chocolate frog and looking at his collection of postcards that Potter had started collecting as soon as he arrived at Hogwarts. Suddenly the boy's gaze stopped on one of the postcards.

"Damn, it's Dumbledore again, I'm so sick of seeing his face," Harry mentally scolded, but looking at the card more closely, he read the text.

"...Professor Dumbledore is known for, among other things, defeating the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, discovering twelve uses for dragon's blood, and working on alchemy with his partner Nicholas Flamel..." - Harry read.

That's when the Slytherin's thoughts hit him, and the boy quickly ran to his room. Once there, Harry walked over to the bookcase and pulled out a tome on the history of potions and alchemy. Finding the right chapter in the table of contents, Potter began to read it avidly. Nicholas Flamel - creator of the Philosopher's Stone, the chapter was called.

"The ancient science of alchemy was concerned with the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance endowed with amazing powers. According to legend, the stone could turn any metal into pure gold. It could also be used to prepare the elixir of life, which made those who drank it immortal. There have been many rumours over the centuries that the Philosopher's Stone has already been created, but the only one in existence today belongs to Nicholas Flamel, a prominent alchemist and opera fan. Mr Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, lives in peace and solitude in Devon with his wife Pernella (aged six hundred and fifty-eight)."

As he finished reading this chapter, Potter was shocked. The Headmaster of Hogwarts would have gone completely insane if he decided to hide one of the strongest magical artefacts in a school full of children.

" Damn old swagger!!!!!." - Harry mentally reprimanded.

Soon, however, the boy overheard one curious conversation that made Harry wonder if something was amiss here. Returning from the library, Potter saw Snape talking to Quirrell about something. Hiding around the corner, Harry was able to hear what the two professors were talking about.

- 'I don't know why you decided to meet here, S-Severus.

- Oh, I just thought it would be a very private conversation," Snape said icily.

- No one but us is supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone - at least not the schoolchildren who are supposed to hear our conversation. Harry listened more closely: he couldn't make out what Quirrell was saying. Snape interrupted him again.

- Have you learnt how to get past that three-headed monster Hagrid raised?

- N-no, S-Severus...

- You don't need an enemy like me, Quirrell," Snape said menacingly, taking a step towards the stuttering professor.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- You know exactly what I'm talking about. - There was a cold irony in Snape's voice . . about your tricks. I'm waiting.

- But I don't..." Quirrell protested.

- All right," Snape cut him short. We'll meet again soon when you've thought it over and decided which side you're on."

The professors finished their conversation and went their separate ways. However, this conversation convinced Harry that the DADA professor was not what he seemed to be. Right after the troll incident, Slytherin had suspected Quirrell, but now that Harry had heard this conversation, Potter did not doubt that the DADA professor was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. However, Harry didn't want to tell his friends about it for fear of leaking information.

It was nearing the end of the school year, and all Hogwarts students were beginning to take their exams. It was hot outside. In the huge room where they wrote their exam papers, it was not only hot but also unbearably stuffy. Before the exams, everyone was given special enchanted pens so that whoever picked one up could not cheat. There were practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick would invite them one by one into his office and demand that they make them dance on a pineapple lying on the table. Professor McGonagall gave them the task of turning a mouse into a snuff box. The number of points they got in the exam depended on how beautiful the snuff box turned out. But if the snuff box had a moustache, the score was automatically lowered. And at Professor Snape's exam, everyone was so nervous trying to remember how to make a memory-robbing potion. Nevertheless, Harry had passed all of his exams with flying colours. Even Snape had to give Harry an A, despite his attempts to fail Potter.

The last exam was the history of magic. Students had to answer questions in writing for an hour about ancient surviving wizards - which of them invented the self-pouring cauldron and things like that. And there was freedom ahead of them.

And when all the exams were passed, Harry decided to play along with the Headmaster, and Potter went to get the Philosopher's Stone. Entering the Forbidden Corridor, Potter quickly made his way to the right room. Once inside, the Slytherin saw Cerberus sleeping and an open trapdoor. Once down, Harry found himself trapped in a trap made of some plants.

" This is the devil's trap," Harry thought to himself.

Potter quickly grabbed his wand and pointed it at the plants.

- Ignis - Harry whispered and a bright orange beam flew out of his wand and burned the devil's snares. Dropping to the floor and shaking himself off, Potter walked on.

Reaching the end of the corridor, the boy found himself in front of the entrance to a brightly lit hall with a high arched ceiling. The hall was full of fluttering and swirling birds, small and bright as jewels. A heavy wooden door could be seen on the other side of the hall.

Harry sucked in air noisily, covered his head with his hands and rushed towards the door. He was ready for sharp beaks and claws to poke into him at any moment, but it didn't happen. Harry ran to the door and grabbed the handle - it was locked. Looking up, Potter noticed that it wasn't birds, but flying keys. After spending a few minutes looking for the right key, Harry began to think about how to get it.

- Destruam - shouted Harry and the right key immediately flew into the boy's hand. Opening the door, Potter walked on through.

The next room was so dark that nothing could be seen. However, once the Slytherin had taken a few steps, the room was suddenly flooded with bright light. Harry was standing on the edge of a huge chessboard. Realising that he was no expert at chess, Potter decided to simply destroy it.

- Exitium maximum," Potter whispered, and a brown beam flew out of his Slytherin wand, quickly destroying all the pieces on the board.

Walking further, Harry found himself in another corridor. Potter was greeted by such a disgusting smell that if he hadn't clamped his nose shut, he probably would have passed out. Even his eyes were watering as he peered into the semi-darkness. Finally, he saw a huge troll lying on the floor, much bigger than the one Harry had defeated on Halloween.

The troll was unconscious and a huge lump was crimson on its head.

Harry cautiously opened the next door and peered inside cautiously - anything could be waiting for him behind it. But there was nothing scary in the room. There was a table in the middle. On it were seven different-sized vessels filled with liquids of some kind.

He approached the table, and suddenly flames erupted from the floor behind him, cutting off the way back. Judging by the bright purple colour, it was not a simple fire, but a magical one. Immediately the flames danced in front of the door that was in front of him. Harry quickly grabbed a scroll of parchment from the table, on which the following was written:

- Danger ahead, the same behind, But two of us will help, you just find them.

One will send forwards, the other backwards, The second has only wine, and the third poison.

Do you want to stay here for centuries to come? Then look, and I'll give you a clue.

Firstly, however cleverly the poison is hidden, it's easy to find - to the left of the wine.

Secondly, the bottles at the end are not the same, but if you must go forward, don't wait in vain for help.

Then you won't find death in either the big one or the small one, and if you take a sip from the second one on the left and the second one on the right, you'll make sure they're filled with the same stuff, although they look different, that's the fourth thing.

Harry sighed and picked up the smallest bottle. Then he turned to face the black flames.

- I'm coming," he said, emptying the bottle in one gulp. Indeed, it felt as if he had swallowed a block of ice. Harry shuddered, set the bottle back on the table and walked forward. Gathering his wits, he approached the black tongues of fire. The next second the flames licked him, but he felt nothing. For a moment the flames obscured what was ahead of him. And then he was in the next hall. The last hall. However, someone was already there. Standing in the middle of the room was Professor Quirrell.

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