Dumbledore was gone.
During dinner, whispers spread quickly through the Great Hall, slipping between conversations like the wind through tall grass.
No official announcement had been made, but the murmurs spread among the older students, hushed voices repeating the same details repeatedly.
The Headmaster had been summoned away on urgent business, leaving the castle behind.
Harry, Hermione, and Neville didn't need confirmation. They already knew something was happening.
And that meant Quirrell was going to make his move.
They ate in silence, their minds racing with the implications. Each glance exchanged between them carried an unspoken message. If Dumbledore was gone, the protections on the third-floor corridor might not be enough.
Whatever was hidden there, whatever Quirrell was after, was now vulnerable.
By the time they left the Great Hall, they already knew what had to be done.
The hallways were quieter than usual that evening. Most students were still lingering in the Great Hall, excitedly speculating about Dumbledore's absence, but the trio had retreated to a secluded corner. The dim candlelight cast flickering shadows across the halls, and the weight of their decision pressed down on them.
"This is it," Harry said, keeping his voice low. "If he's going to try for it, it'll be tonight."
Hermione frowned, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "We don't know that for certain. Just because Dumbledore's left doesn't—"
"He's been waiting for an opportunity," Neville interrupted. "It's too much of a coincidence. This is his best chance."
Hermione bit her lip, clearly torn. "But what do we do? Tell Snape?"
Silence hung between them.
Harry exhaled slowly, thinking it through. Snape had already been suspicious of Quirrell for months. If they went to him now, would it change anything? Would Snape be able to stop Quirrell before he acted? Or would it only make things worse?
"If we tell Snape now," Harry said finally, "he doesn't have proof. If he tries to stop Quirrell and fails, Quirrell will know someone's onto him. He might act sooner. Or he might disappear before anyone can stop him."
Hermione looked uneasy, but she didn't argue.
"So we follow him," Neville said, nodding. "We wait for him to go to the third floor. If we see him try to get past the protections, we'll have proof. And if we have to… we stop him ourselves."
Harry hesitated, looking between them. "You don't have to come with me."
Neville scoffed. "Like we're going to let you go alone."
Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "This is a terrible idea."
"But you're coming," Harry pointed out.
She gave him a sharp look before finally nodding. "Of course I am."
It was settled.
Getting to the third-floor corridor unnoticed wasn't difficult. They knew the castle well enough by now. Which corridors were usually empty, which staircases wouldn't shift unpredictably.
The corridor was eerily silent when they arrived. Torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting long, wavering shadows.
Then they saw him.
Quirrell stood before the forbidden door, his back to them. He seemed nervous, his hands trembling slightly as he muttered under his breath.
Harry's breath caught as the faint shimmer of wards flickered and then vanished.
Quirrell pushed the door open and slipped inside.
Harry turned to the others. "Now."
They ducked beneath the Invisibility Cloak together, moving swiftly toward the door before it could close completely. As soon as they stepped through, the first thing they noticed was the low, rumbling growl filling the air.
A massive three-headed dog lay sprawled across the floor, its heads resting on its paws. But its eyes were half-lidded, drowsy. A soft melody drifted through the room.
It seemed like Quirrell had already enchanted it to sleep using the harp in the corner of the room.
Harry pointed toward the trapdoor beneath the beast's enormous paws.
He met Hermione's gaze, then Neville's. No turning back now.
Harry swallowed hard and pulled the trapdoor open. "Looks like there are no other options."
Harry took a deep breath and jumped down.
The moment he landed, something wrapped around him.
Thick, snaking tendrils coiled tightly around his arms and legs, constricting his movements. The room was dim, but he could see the writhing mass of vines encircling him.
Hermione and Neville landed beside him, and within seconds, the plant had them in its grasp as well.
"Don't struggle!" Hermione called, trying to stay calm. "It tightens when you panic!"
Easier said than done, but Harry forced himself to go still. Slowly, the tendrils loosened.
"Light," Neville gasped. "It hates light."
Hermione fumbled for her wand, her fingers shaking. "Lumos Solem!"
A bright, golden light flared from her wand tip. The Devil's Snare recoiled instantly, retreating as they scrambled free.
They didn't have time to catch their breath. An open doorway stood ahead, leading further down. Quirrell had already gone through.
As soon as they stepped through the doorway, a gust of wind hit them.
The room was vast, lined with high stone walls that stretched up into darkness. Thousands of winged keys flitted through the air like a chaotic storm of metal and feathers, the sound of their wings a constant rustling hum.
At the far end of the chamber, a heavy wooden door loomed, locked shut.
"Of course," Hermione muttered. "It couldn't be simple."
Harry took a step forward, scanning the swarm of keys. "One of them must unlock the door."
Hermione's eyes followed the keys darting about. "They wouldn't make it easy… it's probably different from the others. Maybe older, or a different color?"
Neville peered at the door. "There's a keyhole here. If we can spot the right one, we just need to—"
A loud clang made them all jump.
A broom had fallen from the air nearby as if inviting them to use it.
Harry's heart pounded. This was it.
He took a slow breath before striding toward the broomstick.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice had a warning edge.
"I'll be faster than trying to catch it by hand." He swung a leg over the broom. It was old and rickety compared to the school's training brooms, but it lifted into the air the moment he kicked off.
The rush of wind met his face as he ascended into the chaotic flurry of keys. His eyes darted through the shimmering swarm, searching...
There!
An old-fashioned rusted key, slightly bent, with a jagged wing that fluttered unevenly. It was different from the others, weathered as if it had been used before.
Harry surged forward, dodging the flurry of smaller keys that darted at him like angry hornets. His fingers brushed against the metal. Almost grasping it within his fingers.
The key jerked away.
Gritting his teeth, he swerved after it, heart pounding as the swarm grew more aggressive, tiny wings slashing at his robes. He flattened against the broom, pushing it faster. The key was right there, just a little closer.
Harry lunged.
His fingers closed around the cool metal.
Instantly, the swarm went berserk. Keys shot toward him from every direction, but he wheeled the broom sharply downward, diving toward the ground.
"Go!" he shouted.
Hermione and Neville were already at the door. Hermione snatched the key from his hand and jammed it into the lock, twisting hard.
The door swung open.
They scrambled through, slamming it shut just as a wave of keys crashed against the stone.
Panting, they exchanged wide-eyed looks.
"Never," Neville gasped, "want to do that again."
Hermione straightened, brushing dust from her robes. "That was surprisingly well done, Harry."
He grinned despite himself. "You sound shocked."
Hermione huffed, but there was a glint of relief in her eyes.
Harry turned back to the door. The key still rested in the lock, bent and motionless.
He had the strangest feeling that they weren't the first ones to pass this way.
Brushing the thought aside, he gestured to the next door. "Come on. One step closer."
They hurried forward.
The next room was massive. At first glance, it seemed empty, but then Harry noticed the rows of towering chess pieces, carved from dark stone.
A wizard's chessboard.
Quirrell had already passed through. On the far side of the board, several pieces lay shattered, their marble forms cracked and broken where they had fallen. The remnants of a brutal battle.
Harry exhaled slowly, stepping closer. "Looks like he already played."
Neville squinted at the scene. "Then we can just walk across, right?"
Hermione, ever cautious, grabbed his arm before he could take another step. "Not necessarily. If the game ended in checkmate, the enchantment might be inactive, but if there's still magic left…"
To test it, Harry picked up a stray shard of a fallen pawn and tossed it toward the far end of the board.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, with an eerie smoothness, the remaining black pieces shifted, swords raised, blocking their path.
Neville tensed. "Okay. That's not good."
Hermione chewed her lip. "The game's already finished, so what's left?"
Harry's gaze flickered over the board. The black king was missing, Quirrell must have checkmated it. But a handful of pieces remained, frozen in place, like sentinels guarding the exit.
"Maybe it's not about winning anymore," he muttered. "Maybe it's about proving we can move like players."
Neville frowned. "What do you mean?"
Harry took a steady breath. "We're not playing a game. The board just won't let us through unless we follow the rules. We need to move like pieces."
Hermione's face lit up in understanding. "Of course! If the enchantment is still recognizing movement patterns, then we just have to cross as though we're part of the game."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. If we move in ways that aren't allowed for a chess piece, the board will react."
Neville grimaced. "So… what happens if we mess up?"
Harry glanced at the shattered pieces, then at the swords gleaming in the hands of the black knights. "Let's not find out."
They stepped onto the board cautiously.
Harry took the role of a knight, moving in an 'L' shape.
Hermione, ever the strategist, chose the queen's movement. Straight and diagonal.
Neville, trusting their judgment, moved like a rook, sticking to rigid vertical and horizontal lines.
Every time they took a step, the remaining pieces watched, tracking their movements.
Harry could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as he moved to his next position.
Neville nearly made a wrong move, shifting slightly to the left before catching himself. He quickly corrected, stepping in a straight line instead. The nearest knight twitched, then stilled.
For what felt like an eternity, they maneuvered their way forward, each move deliberate.
Finally, after a tense minute, Harry made his last leap across the final row.
As soon as all three of them reached the other side, the remaining pieces froze completely. The enchantment, finally satisfied, released its hold.
With a low groaning sound, the far door creaked open.
Neville let out a shaky breath. "That was the most terrifying game of chess I've ever played."
Hermione smoothed out her robes, still catching her breath. "We didn't even play—just followed the logic of the board."
Harry gave the pieces one last look before turning toward the open doorway. "Either way, we're through. Let's keep going."