What the ... Quirrel?

In the end it was finally decided that they would all go together in the Invisibility cloak after dinner.

Obviously they would not all fit in the Invisibility cloak at the same time.

So Neville volunteered to be a vanguard and headed towards the trapdoor right away.

Neville had just received a mission regarding the dark lord so naturally he took the initiative to set the stage.

But that is a story for another chapter.

After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room.

Neville had not arrived yet nor was there any indication that he got caught by Filch.

He couldn't have been caught by Snape as they had just seen him at the Great Hall.

Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say, after all.

Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try and break.

Harry and Ron did not talk much as usual.

Both of them were thinking about what Neville was facing alone out there and how they could help?

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted of to bed.

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning.

Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory.

He finally pulled out the Cloak and then his eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He pocketed it to use on Fluffy- he didn't feel much like singing.

He ran back to the common room.

"We'd better put the Cloak on here, and make sure that it covers all three of us_if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own-"

At the foot of the first set of stairs they spotted Mrs Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs Norris turned her lamp-like eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" He said suddenly as they climbed towards him. He narrowed 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 rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a creeping around unseen."

Harry had a sudden idea.

"Peeves," He said, in a hoarse whisper, "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 a foot off the stairs.

"So Sorry, your bloodiness, Mr Baron, sir," He said greasily.

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry.

"Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again.

"Hope your businesses go well, Baron, I will not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Harry!"

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor- and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly.

"Snape has already gotten past Fluffy."

We need to hurry and get to Neville, immediately."

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other two.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," He said.

"You can take the cloak, I won't need it know."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming and Neville may need us," said Hermione.

Harry pushed the door open.

As the door creaked, low rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

They soon got into the trapdoor one by one with the help of Hagrid's flute.

They crossed the trials arranged by the Professors one by one.

Ron fell at the transfigured chess trial set by Professor McGonagall.

The other two crossed the room to find a much larger troll than they had previously encountered, flat on the floor with a bloody lump on his head.

Finally, Harry and Hermione found themselves parting in front of the potions table.

Even though she was worried sick about Neville, she decided to take Ron to the infirmary as he might need medical attention.

Harry had a much greater ability to help him while she may get in the way.

Harry drained the little bottle in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body but couldn't feel them_for a moment, he could see nothing but but black fire_then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there.

But it wasn't Snape.

It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirrel.