Hero

Tver folded the parchment with satisfaction. He had been in his office all along, using a decoy to meet Quirrell and to stir up trouble in the Forbidden Forest. With a solid alibi, he was just waiting for the kind-hearted Quirrell to secure the Philosopher's Stone for him.

Casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, Tver leisurely left his office and headed towards the fourth floor.

By the time he reached the corridor, the harp Quirrell had set up had stopped playing, and the three-headed dog, with its keen sense of smell, was drawing near.

This wouldn't do—what if Harry and the others arrived?

Waving his wand, he continued the harp's melody, ensuring it would play until the following evening, giving the three-headed dog plenty of time to sleep.

Having completed this, the trio, cloaked in invisibility, hurriedly arrived.

Tver, now a mere spectator, relished the experience. Initially, he had thought Harry and Ron's academic performance was subpar.

However, after half a year of teaching, he realized this was a misconception.

They simply disliked pre-studying and seldom reviewed the theoretical material after classes. Yet they paid attention during lectures and took notes diligently. While not as exceptional as Hermione, Harry was certainly above average.

Ron was slightly behind but not by much, oscillating between "exceeds expectations" and "acceptable."

In practical challenges, all three played their roles to varying degrees.

Ron's chess game was nothing short of masterful. By bravely using himself as a decoy to ensure Hermione and Harry's safety, he managed to defeat the black pieces—a feat not even Trevil could guarantee he'd replicate perfectly.

Of course, the chess pieces posed no threat to him.

Later, Hermione's wealth of knowledge and logical reasoning proved invaluable, although her contributions seemed somewhat lesser compared to Ron's.

Upon reaching the final room, Harry gripped the potion for advancing tightly and took a deep breath.

"Go back to Ron, take him out to find Hedwig and send a message to Dumbledore. If you encounter any other professors, tell them too, even Professor Flitwick, okay?"

"But you're going to face Snape alone?" Hermione asked, worriedly clutching Harry's arm. "I shouldn't have agreed to let you come here. Let Snape have the Stone!"

"How can you think that?" Harry was puzzled by Hermione's hesitance.

"I...I've been pondering something all this while. Why would Snape want the Stone?"

"For gold, or eternal life?"

"That's what I thought too, until tonight," Hermione said with an unusually shrewd expression. "You mentioned Professor Flitwick speaking of a master who needs unicorn blood to survive. Who else in the wizarding world fits that description?"

Harry swallowed hard and with a furrowed brow, he voiced the nagging suspicion in his mind.

"You mean, Voldemort?"

"Yes, only he would want to get the Philosopher's Stone to revive himself!"

"But isn't he already dead?"

Hermione gently shook her head. "I don't know, but whether he is or not, I can't let you take that risk!"

Yet Harry smiled lightly.

"If it really is Voldemort, then shouldn't I go and stop him?"

Seeing the resolve in Harry's eyes, Hermione found herself unable to dissuade him.

"Alright, if you're determined to do this, take these." She handed him two badges.

"What are these?"

"These are protective charm badges from Ron and me, and your own. Make sure to wear them. While strong magic can penetrate these shields, if my understanding is correct, in moments of danger, these three badges will act together, especially Ron's!"

Harry stared blankly at the badges in his hand. "Then why didn't Ron use his during the chess match?"

Hermione blinked, her eyes suddenly moistening.

"He said that only a true hero like you deserves to use it."

"When you go back, remember to tell him, and say it loudly," Harry said, his voice firm. "He's more of a hero than anyone I've ever met."

Tears streamed down Hermione's face as she gave Harry a tight hug.

"And you, you're the bravest person I know, but that's something you should tell him yourself later!"

With that, they no longer lingered and headed to opposite ends of the room.

Tver watched from the side, his lips twitching. A perfect scene had turned into something resembling a farewell. He felt an urge to tap Hermione on the head.

"Don't jinx it like that!"

Yet, he was impressed that a single comment of his could be dissected by Hermione into so much insight—truly, she was the brains of the trio.

As Harry stepped into the next room, Tver acted swiftly and secretly. He cast a faint, almost invisible red light that struck Hermione, causing her to faint instantly.

"Can't really let you follow him just yet," Tver muttered as he gently laid Hermione on a table. He then proceeded to re-seal the room's exits with flames, this time using a fiercer fire of his own conjuring.

Once done, Tver calmed himself, suppressing the excitement bubbling within him. The Philosopher's Stone might no longer delay his curse, but the fragment of Voldemort's soul harbored within a Horcrux, could potentially craft a usable body.

The thought of having a Dark Lord as a subordinate was thrilling enough to send a shiver of anticipation through Tver.

It was still the same room, but this time the main characters were Quirrell and Harry. Oh, and Voldemort was there too. Quirrell seemed agitated, rambling frenziedly.

"Snape?" He sneered disdainfully. "That fool was played by Fawley and me, and of course, Fawley is a fool himself!"

Harry, adorned with three badges, stood fearless. "I won't let you speak of Professor Fawley that way!"

"Ha, I didn't expect him to have a little fan." Quirrell squinted contemptuously and turned to gaze at the Mirror of Erised. "But now he can't come to save you. On the contrary, without his help, I wouldn't have made it here so easily. He mentioned that this mirror is where the Philosopher's Stone is stored but failed to tell me how to retrieve it. I can see the stone in my hand, but only within the mirror. Damn it, if I can't have it, he won't have it easy either!"

Quirrell muttered to himself, his hand searching the surface of the mirror, his expression growing more frantic by the moment.

According to the plan, he should have already obtained the Philosopher's Stone and escaped Hogwarts through the secret passage, flying far away with his master!

If this delay continues, not just Tver, but Dumbledore himself could return!

"Use the boy..." A ghostly voice emerged from his head.

The voice made Harry shiver; he seemed to realize where Voldemort, mentioned by Hermione, was hiding.

Yet his body uncontrollably moved forward, pulled in front of Quirrell, right before the mirror.

"Look into the mirror and tell me, where is the Philosopher's Stone?!"

Quirrell's face was fierce as he stared into Harry's face, sparks flying from his wand due to his impatience.

"I don't know," Harry felt a heaviness in his pocket and his heart sank, "I... I only see us winning the House Cup, with Professor Fawley encouraging me, telling me I did well."

"He's lying!" Voldemort suddenly shouted. "The Philosopher's Stone is in his pocket, kill him!"