32

Chapter 32: A Dragons Rage

Harry took comfort from the gentle warmth that his bracelet was currently exuding. Despite the pain he was in from Quirrel's rough grip on his now broken arm as he drug Harry through the dimly lit corridor they were now in Harry could still take comfort in it. The warmth reminded him of Charlie and, if he focused enough, he could swear that he felt a soft pulse coming from the bracelet as well, as though it were mimicking Charlie's heart beat...

Harry didn't think he could have made it through the past half hour without that warmth, everything that had happened was currently a blur to him.

He vaguely remembered the vines that began to wrap around him and how he had started to sink down through the vines but he hadn't had the energy to struggle. Quirrel somehow landing next to him on top of the vines completely upright and seemingly without a care in the world.

Quirrel had watched him sink into the vines for a minute before all he could remember was heat. Heat and light and the vines parting as though burned before he was falling again. This time he hit the floor causing him to cry out in pain as he fell on his broken arm yet again.

Quirrel had quickly drug him into a room which contained hundreds of glittering bird like objects which had quickly caught Harrys gaze in awestruck amazement when he finally took in the whole picture and realized that they weren't birds at all but rather keys! Keys with multicolor wings were flying high above their heads in graceful patterns that kept Harry's rapt attention.

At least until a long stream of flame materialized from Quirrel's wand and engulfed the keys in its fiery grasp singing the wings to a crisp and leaving behind none of their former beauty.

Quirrel had promptly stepped into the scattered pile of ashes and keys before choosing one which was rather rusty and old to unlock the door on the other end of the corridor.

After that there was a chess board only the pieces seemed to tower over him... Had they been shrunk upon entering through the door? Some sort of enchantment perhaps? Either they were shrunk or this chess board was massive! Even the pawns which were hunched over stood at least three feet higher than Harry himself!

Harry had soon learned that this was not just an immensely proportioned chess board but rather a larger than life version of wizards chess which had to be played with a live body acting the part of one of the pieces.

Quirrel, upon realizing this fact, had forced him to play the part of a pawn all the while laughing maniacally as the shards of various chess pieces sliced through his pale skin and thin clothing leaving behind crimson trails of blood to well up and spill over.

By the time Quirrel had won the game of chess and they had begun to make their way through to the next chamber Harry was once again numb, the only thing keeping him moving was the painful hold that Quirrel kept on his arm.

Harry was unsurprised when upon reaching the next chamber who's only inhabitant was a rather grotesque troll, no larger than the one that he had encountered on Halloween, Quirrel had brutally bludgeoned it to death with its own club all the while laughing cruelly.

Distantly Harry realized that he should have felt something for the death of this poor creature, but... He just couldn't bring himself to do so. Not because he felt himself above the troll or thought that the troll deserved to die. He just... couldn't feel anything.

In fact, as he watched Quirrel continue to bludgeon the troll with its own club Harry realized that he had accepted what was to happen.

Ironic, how throughout the years of living with the Dursley's Harry had always feared the possibility of death. Had always wanted nothing more than to live. He had been so alone, hurt and afraid that he was desperate for love or affection of any kind. He would dream of the future and how he wished his life could be.

Then he had met Charlie and everything had changed. He suddenly had a family. A family who loved him more than anything and he loved them too but it all paled in comparison to how he loved Charlie.

He loved the Weasley's with all of his heart but he loved Charlie with his very being. He had no doubt that if anything were to happen to Charlie he would surely die.

But despite all of the love that he felt and how desperately he wished to spend the rest of his life with them he felt at peace with the idea of dying at Quirrels hand.

Not because he wished to die, but if that was what it took to keep those he cared about safe and happy then he would gladly do so without a second thought for himself.

Belatedly Harry realized that Quirrel had once again begun to move them into yet another room inside of which stood only a table and various vials of potions and a single spare bit of parchment.

As Quirrel read what was written in the Potions Masters spidery scrawl Harry took in his surroundings and realized that they were trapped for both doorways were covered in flame.

For minutes they stood there, Quirrel attempting to decipher the answer while Harry examined the flames. The doorway through which they had entered was covered in thick purple flames whilst the exit was covered in black.

Looking over to the table upon which Quirrel was examining two different sized bottles Harry's gaze was drawn to the smallest bottle laying third from the left.

As he continued to gaze at the small innocent looking bottle Harry felt the familiar tug of his magic attempting to lead him but Harry its urging. Whatever Quirrel wanted was behind that door and it could probably grant him the power to hurt those that he loved. No, Harry would wait. If he chose that vial then Harry would just have to try and stop him.

Taking as deep of a breath as the ropes tied around him would allow Harry began to concentrate on his magic. Building it up but not letting it out, he didn't for Quirrel to be able to sense it and put a stop to what he was doing.

Focusing on his magic Harry never noticed Quirrel finally settle upon a vial and make his forward, he did however notice when Quirrel cruely forced his mouth open and made him swallow half of a vials contents.

So foul was the concoction that he had been forced to swallow that even as ice raced through his veins Harry paid it no mind in his efforts to clear the taste from his mouth.

Mere moments later a sense of vertigo crashed upon Harry as he was suddenly flying towards the flames...

Minerva was quick to create a flame once she and Filius had landed upon the Devils Snare that Pomona had created as the first barrier.

As they landed upon the floor they took but a moment to regain their balance before they took off in a dead sprint for the next chamber.

Panic was in Minerva's heart as they ran, fear for what was happening to the boy that she so loved. Quirrinus Quirrel should be very afraid for he had a fate worse than death awaiting him...

As they drew upon the next chamber they stumbled to a stop in shock at what awaited them.

"Oh my," Minerva could hear Filius murmur as he took in the room with wide eyes.

Hundreds of keys lay on the floor in soft piles of grey ash and almost every surface outside of a small circle within the middle of the floor was charred to a crisp with smoke still smoldering from within the stone walls themselves.

Shaking himself from his shocked stupor Filius quickly made his way across the room and began to undo the various enchantments that he had placed upon the door when he saw that the key to open it was missing.

Quickly they moved onto the next defense, the one which she herself had made.

With actions fueled with anger at herself Minerva quickly won her battle, all the while cursing the fact that the game had to be won before it could be taken down.

Harry lay upon the cold stone floor breathing deeply and attempting to hold back tears of pain. His arm felt like it had been run over by the Hogwarts Express and was throbbing painfully. Added to that, along with various cuts and scrapes caused by the chess board was the sharp throbbing coming from his head.

After throwing him into the flames Quirrel had grabbed a fist full of his hair and proceeded to drag him across the stone floors and down a set of steps by his raven locks.

Harry was in agony. Of course he had felt worse before but he was not quite as used to pain as he had been the summer previously. A whole month at home with the Weasley's and most of the school year gone by with hardly any accidents or pain and Harry's body had slowly lost its extraordinary tolerance for pain.

As Harry's breathing finally began to slow and the stinging in his eyes began to ebb away Harry looked over to where Quirrel was standing and examined him.

His left hand was lightly touching the side of his purple turban while the right hand clutched almost desperately at his left forearm. Looking at Quirrel's reflection in the mirror Harry could see that he looked almost as though he were in pain, even as he mouth continued to move almost as though he were talking to himself.

Looking more closely at the mirror Harry realized that he had seen it before. This mirror was in fact the large ornate mirror that he had once assumed had been a seventh years NEWT project, but surely he was wrong. After all, why on earth would a simple NEWT project be down here and what could Quirrel possibly want with it!?

As though sensing his gaze Quirrel's eyes slowly slid upon the mirrors surface until they landed upon his reflection.

Spinning around in a move oddly reminiscent of Severus Snape, which sent his cloak to flare out behind him, Quirrel faced Harry and after a short moment of contemplation he strode forward with purposeful strides and yanked Harry to his feet once more.

Beating down his rising terror Harry kept his wide fear struck eyes firmly glued to the reflection shown in the mirror before him. If he could keep Quirrel in sight then he would have at least a small amount of warning for whatever he decided to do next.

"Tell me Potter," Quirrel growled sounding much more like a rabid dog instead of a human being that Harry had a slight difficulty understanding what he said. "What is it that you see in the mirror?"

With confused emerald eyes Harry gazed upon the mirror once again, trying desperately to understand just what it was that Quirrel was asking.

Upon seeing no change to the shimmering surface of the mirror Harry's gaze slid back up to meet Quirrel's in the mirror.

"I... I don't understand sir," Harry whispered, fear and confusion lacing every word, "Wh-what is it that I'm supposed to be seeing? All it is, is a mirror. It only shows your reflection!"

In the next moment Harry would realize how foolish his words were as, with a cry of fury and his face contorted in a grotesque mask of anger Quirrel threw Harry down to the floor and with a resounding cry of a simple one word spell all that Harry knew was pain.

"Crucio!"

Charlie waited impatiently for his companions to extract themselves from the Devils Snare which they had landed upon. As desperate as he was to simply continue on by himself Charlie was no fool and he knew that if he were to attempt to go on by himself it would merely cause more trouble than it was worth.

As they finally began to make their way towards the next chamber a distant scream reaches their ear and they move faster than they had thought possible.

Sprinting through a room full of ashes and keys they run, they run so fast and so hard that the muscles in their legs burn and each panting breath that they take causes a jolt of discomfort to surge through their chest but they don't slow down. They run, driven by the force of the fear that they felt for Harry driving them ever faster.

Through a giant chess board covered in bits and pieces of stone and the occasional splatter of blood that they force themselves to ignore. They can't afford to think about what had happened here. They have to keep going!

They sprint through the next room, hands covering their mouth and nose to protect themselves from the vile scent that its only inhabitants corpse is exuding they finally reach the last obstacle, the last chamber that separates them from Harry.

As they entered the final chamber they were greeted by the sight of Minerva and Filius pouring over a small piece of parchment.

"There will be no need for that anymore," Severus said absentmindedly as he moved over to the table filled with seven different vials. "The fool mixed the vials up. It is a good thing that I do not make a habit of putting things into random containers. This," Severus said as he held up the smallest of the various bottles, "Is what gets you through the black flames however if you care to look it is empty."

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare vial would you severus?" Minerva asked desperately.

"Unfortunately no, Albus took my spare vial. There is a counter charm but I'm afraid it takes upwards of an hour to cast. By which time young mister Potter could be no more."

Charlie felt hallow. There was nothing that he could do and he knew it. If it weren't for Darius and Mary physically holding him upright and supporting him between themselves Charlie had no doubt that he would currently be sprawled out on the floor.

With slumped shoulders Charlie was resigned, that was until his necklace once again to burn white hot and a scream of agony that could only belong to his sweet Harry rent the air.

The oppressive feeling of Charlie's magic quickly filled the air as his anger at the bastard who dared to hurt his soul mate grew. So focused was Charlie on his anger and fear for his love that he did not notice just what had begun to happen to his surroundings.

Within the small chamber the very walls began to tremble with the force of the red heads anger, the bottles of potion which had remained on the table began to fall as his anger grew. A chilling wind picked up within the confined space forcing his companions to cower against the walls.

As one particular vial hits the floor it begins to sizzle and form a hole within the ancient stone but none of the rooms occupants bother to pay it a single glance as yet another scream of pain cuts through the air followed by a sob.

All grows quiet but the rescue party knew better than to relax for with a cry of rage of his own Charlie's magic explodes.