#what did the villagers do this whole time? play cards? bet on when nightmare would stop?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bleached-d-soul · 5 years

Text

Going Rogue

The 20$ commission for none other than @the-wayward-arc featuring one of my favorite crack ships in RWBY

Length: 10, 058

Remnant was the land of miracles and nightmares. On the one hand, you had Aura, Semblances and Dust. On the other hand, you had the Grimm of all forms, shapes and sizes. With the threat of hordes of creatures of horror, everyone was forced to one day make a choice. The choice of how you would survive. Do you put your faith in strength? Do you pray your feet can carry far enough? Or do you build walls and fences and hide behind them?

The Branwen Tribe had mastered all three. And that is why they survived for so long. Since the days when the Moon above was whole, the Branwens were the survivors. Vernal had no illusions about her tribe. As much as some Mistralian poets and Atlesian pseudo-rebel brats loved to glorify the bandits, Vernal never forgot what the Tribe were and what they were not.

They weren't some roguish heroes that stole from the rich and gave to the poor. They weren't free spirits out to live lives, unlimited by social conventions and norms. They didn't spean days talking philosophy or playing music as everyone laughed around the fire. No, all that shit belonged only in the books of some sappy bitch who would wail one day in their life.

Branwens were the survivors. And surviving was not pretty.

They stole from those weaker than themselves and ran when facing someone stronger. They raided villages and towns, taking whatever food and supplies the people there had before leaving them to die of sickness and starvation. And some of their own fell? They would spend one night drinking and mourning at best before splitting the valuables of that person among themselves.

Their life wasn't pretty. But it was the only life she knew and had.

In the tribe, everyone had a role to play and the weight to carry. Those who weren't strong or vicious enough to fight had to accept their role as the lowest on the totem pole, only occasional captives were given rougher treatment. Having been born into the tribe, Vernal felt it on her own skin what it meant to be the weakest. And she promised to never find herself in that position again.

She trained to be strong. And she worked to be useful. She made one sacrifice after another, all for the sake of the tribe. So that she wouldn't be left behind. So that she never became a burden to be discarded.

And now here she was, taking one for the tribe again.

"Are you comfortable?" the woman's silky voice slithered around Vernal's ears like worms. "You seem stressed."

Raven was strong. Their tribe wasn't much, relying far more on their target's weakness and sheer numbers, but Raven was strong. Strong enough to take on this bitch and her two little sycophants. Strong enough to tear the three to shreds and not even break a sweat. Raven could kill them.

But she didn't. Which only meant that whoever was behind Cinder Fall was someone even Raven feared. Feared enough to not even try to escape. Whoever this person - or creature at that - was, if Raven feared them, then Vernal knew better than challenge them. It was just how the survivors lived, kill and use those weaker than you. And, in turn, be used by those stronger than you.

"Not used to flying, that's all," Vernal grunted out. It was a shameful thing to admit, especially to some outsiders. But having spent her whole life on the ground, she never realized just how much she hated the air. "How long do we have to go?"

How much longer did she need to play along, was left unsaid. Cinder told her that they would be in Vale in an hour at most. The green brat and her cripple of a friend were already waiting for them at some hotel on the outskirts of the city, ready to do whatever their little owner told them to.

"I am sure Raven appreciates what you are doing for her," Cinder smiled, not bothering to hide her pleasure at getting her way. "Once we are done with the mission, your tribe will be granted full safety and protection from our Mistress."

Vernal knew it was all bullshit. She herself had given such promises before to so many suckers and stabbed them in the back all the same. She knew it was a pile of crap but didn't call the woman out on it. And so, with nods and half-hearted agreements, Vernal forced herself to swallow the shit Cinder was feeding her. After all, what would she do after calling the woman out?

What even could she do? In the end, every choice she could make would lead to her death. The only chance at survival Vernal had laid in her trusting herself to stay alive and praying for Raven to come up with something.

As the two got off the plane. As they picked up their luggage, one of the employees smiled at Vernal, "Welcome to Vale! Hope you will enjoy your stay here."

Somehow, Vernal doubted she would.

When Vernal was seven, she took the diary from the village they raided. The owner - whom Vernal assumed was a woman by how neat and honeyed was her writing - used to study in one of the bigger cities and wrote all the details about how exciting her school years were. At first, the little Vernal used to dream of living the same life. The life where she wasn't forced to pick up other people's trash and do back-breaking chores for scraps of food.

It was a nice little dream, one that she cherished for years. Her safe room where she could escape after getting shit beaten out of her for doing something wrong or just for the laughs of some creep. Those dreams used to keep her warm at night.

But that was before she realized how foolish that dream was. She was a bandit. A damn good one too. What would she do if she ever came to attend some fancy school in the city? Drink tea and eat cookies all the while gossiping about some stupid stuff? Lose her sleep over some silly crush?

Ever since her first kill, Vernal hated her childhood dream with all the venom and spite one could have.

And now here she was, in the hall of the school, just like she thought she would hate.

The first night at Beacon is everything Vernal feared it would be and more. After listening to Ozpin talk about the duty and responsibility of huntsmen and huntresses - y'know other than dying like a bunch of morons to buy other idiots a couple more days - they were locked in one room. And boy, did Vernal wish she could kill them all and be done with it. Seriously, if Cinder wanted the damn comatose girl, why not just come here with her army and kill everyone?

That would make taking Amber or whoever so much easier.

No matter where she looked, she found something or someone to loathe this place even more for. The girls who kept giggling and chatting as if they were having some sleepover. And guys who were trying to show off their physiques. Granted, some of them were quite well-built but what did it matter when facing against a Grimm? Unless you knew how to use all that muscle, you were just making a bigger meal for some lucky Grimm out there.

At least, she was spared hanging around Cinder and her posse. The Fall Maiden wanted them to spend the night apart, as a precaution in case Ozpin found the four students becoming a team so smoothly all too suspicious. Paranoid but Vernal couldn't care less. She would enjoy whatever peace she could get.

Her peace didn't last for long.

"Stop stalking me!"

"I am just trying to be friendly! Why do you have to be so crabby?"

Quarrels and yelling weren't uncommon in the tribe. Honestly, every day some morons found a new reason to start trouble with each other. Someone stealing another guy's drink. Or some bitch banging someone else's man. The everyday trouble was the kind of trouble you got when placing every arrogant and self-centered piece of crap into one family where the only law was the law of the blade.

The fights between their own weren't uncommon and, in fact, somewhat encouraged by Raven.

But these two were nothing like that.

With the mixture of amusement and annoyance underneath her skin, Vernal watched two girls - both looking too young to even be here - argue over a vial of Dust. She quickly recognized the Schnee heiress and entertained the thought of stealing her wallet at some point in time in the future. Vernal briefly toyed with the idea of buying tons of sex toys for with whatever card the heiress had.

And then she saw him.

Tall, blonde and wearing the dumbest choice of sleepwear she had ever seen. He wasn't too bad on the eyes, if looking more like an errand boy than an aspiring huntsman. A couple of girls giggled as they watched him pass with guys laughing at him. And honestly would you blame them?

What kind of idiot wears baby blue pajamas? Let alone in front of everyone? If the boy's intent was to ensure he wouldn't get any till the graduation, then he did a fucking great job at it. Still, at least, he managed to make her laugh if not knowing that himself.

"Bold choice, blondie," she heckled, getting a few laughs out of the people nearby. The boy blushed in embarrassment but stopped and turned to her. Stupid, honestly. Should've walked away faster. "Got something to say?"

She kind of wants him to start trouble. To give her an excuse to vent out her frustration. Instead of hissing or glaring, the boy looks more embarrassed than anything and mumbles, "I like it, that's all. It's really comfortable."

"I bet the others think it is," she chuckles as the blondie briefly looks around the room. His face grows even redder as some girls whistle at him in a mocking fashion. She almost feels sorry for the idiot, he really should've left when he had the chance to.

"Eh, I can deal with it," the boy shrugs, though failing to play it cool. "Not the first time someone laughed at it."

She didn't have trouble believing that for obvious reasons. "Pretty confident in yourself, huh?"

"I like to think I am," the boy smiles before sitting down by her side. Vernal raises an eyebrow but the boy seems unfazed by her seeming lack of amusement. With the same goofy mile, he extends his hand, "Jaune Arc. Short sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it."

"Are those ladies your mom and sisters?"

"Yup, mom and all seven of my sisters."

"Seven?" Vernal does a double take before looking the boy up and down in search of the clue at him joking. Nope, he is not shitting her. He is absolutely serious. "Wow, your parents are rabbit faunus or something?"

Some girl with black bow glares daggers at her and actually hisses. Eh, she would deal with her later. "Er, no, I don't think so. They just really love each other and-"

"They are pretty loud about it, right?" Vernal grins as the blondie blushes deep red again, no doubt reliving the moment he caught his mommy and daddy fucking. "Having some repressed memories? I wonder what was the weirdest place you saw them do it?"

"Okay, let's change the subject! Please?"the boy raised his hands in a plea. Alright, she was done with the joke. No need to come across as some sex-starved deviant. "So what's your name?"

"Vernal Wennbar," she said offhandedly. "Simple and memorable. The people whose villages I pillage and burn don't remember it though."

She is kind of disappointed when the boy takes it as a joke and laughs. As much as the conversation amused her, she was getting tired by the Mr Sunshine here. After a few seconds of laughter, Arc sighs and looks at the room with the weird longing expression, "Man, I can't believe that I am finally here."

"Let me guess, your parents are huntsmen as well?"

"I wish," Arc scoffs in annoyance. "Maybe then dad would actually let me come here."

The boy instantly freezes as the realization of what he just said hits him. To someone like him, a boy who never knew how cruel the world could be, running away was probably the peak of the debauchery. DId he expect her to be impressed or horrified? As if. Running away from your parents' home was about as petty as stealing candy as far as Vernal was concerned, "No worries, I am not ratting you out to anyone."

Seriously, who could she even rat him out to? And if she had someone, why would she do that? This was his life and his mess. Still, Arc thanks her with genuine smile, "Thank you, Vernal. I owe you one."

And just like that, the two kept up the small conversation. Bits and pieces of what they did prior to coming here, with Vernal lying at each and every step. Not that she expected Arc to be able to do anything even if she told the truth. But he looked like the kind of moron who could let it slip that she came from the tribe of bandits around the teachers.

And so she told a tale of poor little her who grew up on the streets, harsh and cold. How she was saved by the powerful huntress and now wished to be one to help people. And hey, other than the part about helping people, she was almost honest about her life.

As the time to sleep came closer, the blondie wished her luck on tomorrow's test. Cute if she needed it. She wished him the same, though not on passing the exam.

But simply not dying too painfully.

"Now remember, you need to be on the same team. Roman will supply you with the proper communication equipment but you still need to be careful. Who knows where Ozpin might have installed surveillance. The last thing we need is him suspecting the new team of collaborating prior to the exam."

Keep your head down. Don't give away your powers. Blend in. Those were easy enough instructions even if given in annoyingly condescending tone by the Fall. All she had left to do was make sure she ended up partner with one of her little lackeys and she could get over the damn test.

The Grimm here were pretty weak as well. A few Beowulves and Ursas with big ones like Nevermore or Deathstalker few and far between, and even those were half the size of what a healthy Grimm should be. Her guess was the teachers controlling their numbers by routinely exterminating stronger ones. A dumb thing to do, really.

If their applicants couldn't handle a couple of stronger Grimm, then what good would academy do them? Weak should just stay in the line and not get in the way of the Strong. Weak died. Weak suffered. Weak begged for mercy and cried for help.

"Help! Somebody help!"

Case in point. Now where did that noise come from? She looked behind and saw nobody. From the right then? From the left?

"I am stuck up here!"

Vernal looked above and did double take. After she rubbed her eyes, the sight before her didn't change. It was the same blonde from yesterday. Impaled to the tree by someone's spear. Jeez, whom did he piss off that much that they tried to off him during the exam? Not to mention so dumbly. Seriously, if you wanted to kill Arc off, you could at least try and make it look like a Grimm attack.

Oh well, not her kill to steal. Before she could properly leave, Arc noticed her, much to her chagrin.

"Oh hey, Vernal!" He waved and smiled even though he looked deathly pale. "Uh, could you please help me get down? I think someone accidentally threw their spear at me and now I can't get down. I am not very good with heights so..."

Vernal barely suppressed the urge to throw a pebble at the guy. What was he doing here at the huntsmen academy in the first place if he couldn't even get down from the tree? It was so pathetic it was almost funny. Like watching a cat stuck on a tree. Or some moron with his head between the bars.

"If you need help getting down from there, you might as well quit the exam," Vernal said, enjoying how the boy flinched at her words. "Seriously, if you can't handle some heights, then how are you going to handle the hordes of Grimm?"

"Oh come on, is there nothing you can do at all? Come on, you aren't going to leave me hanging up here like that, right?"

It was almost amusing how wrong he was. She left much many more of much better people to much worse fates. Then again, if he made her a good enough offer, she just might consider helping him out, "What do I get out of it?"

"W-Well, I am pretty good with cooking and massages," at her raised eyebrow, Arc scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "Living with seven sisters will do that to you. You won't believe how many times I had to make up for my mess by giving them a good foot rub."

Hmm, that did sound tempting. But she could always get a professional for it. "Sorry, but if you can't offer anything better, I think I best leave you to your own-"

"I can get you a fake ID!" Arc blurted out in panic. Now if that wasn't interesting. "If, uh, if you help me get down, I can get you the fake ID. For buying drinks and getting into clubs and other stuff like that."

Well, well, it seems it was always the quiet ones. "How good are you at making those? Cause I can tell bad forgery from proper one, you know."

Arc looked uncomfortable as he sighed, "I am pretty good at it. Criminally good, you might say."

"Then you got yourself a deal,"

With a smirk, she released her weapons.

"Thank you!" Arc smiled brightly. Though that smile waned as he saw her approach the trunk of three with the savage grin. "Wait,what are you-Aah!"

The bark didn't even make the sound as she cut through it in one swift motion. The blonde did though, letting out the girliest cry Vernal had the displeasure hearing. With a loud crash, he groaned on the ground. "Ow... I think my arm is broken."

"Your Aura will heal it."

The boy looked at her as if she had just grown a second head.

"What is Aura?"

Was he fucking serious? "Are you fucking serious? Are you telling me that you are trying out for the Beacon Academy to fight Grimm and you don't even know what Aura is?"

"I, uh, was kind of planning to learn it later? You know, catch up on all the material once the semester starts and all."

Catch up on all the...

"You have no idea what Aura is, do you?"

The boy deflated, "No..."

"Great," for a moment, Vernal considered leaving the idiot alone in the woods for Grimm to eat. It was only right, after all. The idiot brought it on himself by coming here unprepared. And hey, maybe some meat would placate the other Grimm around and make it even easier for her to kill them.

But if he died right now, then she would be losing her fake ID maker. And while she didn't doubt the Fire Bitch could help her get one, Vernal was sure she wouldn't get her one. Alcohol makes you sloppy. Alcohol distracts you from the mission. And more of the same dumb garbage she didn't need listening to. Not to mention that if she was given one, those little lapdogs would follow her all the way to every good drinbking spot.

With a sigh and thoughts of quiet pleasant drink in mind, Vernal motioned for Arc to come closer, "Come over here. Before I change my mind."

He did as told, trusting her entirely. Seriously, who was this guy? He was too weak to be a huntsman. Hell, he trusted her - a random stranger who cut down the tree he was stuck to - as if they had known each other for years. For all he knew, she could just stab him and take whatever was of value on him.

Which she had done already. Many times.

And yet he didn't run or even look suspicious of her. Ah, she had no time for that. Better be done with him and move, "What are you going to do? Why is your hand glowing?"

"Just shut up and let me do it," Vernal snapped at him. The boy fell silent. The bandit took a deep breath as she placed her palm on his chest, letting her Aura flow free into the boy and find its way to his own. "For it is in our power that we achieve freedom. Through this, we become juggernauts who know no restraint. Free from laws and untamed by nobody, I release your soul and by my hand empower thee."

She could feel the momentary rush - the feeling of sharing her Aura with another and forcing it open. She felt slightly winded, both annoyed and impressed at how large his Aura reserves actually were. Well, her work was done here. With those reserves, he should be good enough to last until the teachers arrived to save him if something went wrong.

"So long, blondie," she said as she headed off in her own direction. "Try not to die too fast."

"Wait, aren't we partners now?" Arc asked awkwardly. "I mean-"

Partners... Yeah, right. "Oh just shove it, will ya?" Vernal scoffed. "You already owe me two favors. Don't go pushing your luck."

Just as she left, she heard someone else call out for him. Vernal didn't look, of course. She already helped that moron enough. Not that Aura would help him once Fall brought the whole place down. Helping out the weak wouldn't them any favor in the long run.

She just wanted to get whatever was worth out her deal with him.

Days passed by and their team - appropriately named Venom (VENM) even if the Headmaster didn't know - was about as close as four strangers pushed together could be. Unlike many of the other teens though, there wasn't any real attempt to bond. And honestly what could they bond over?

Their kill counts? Favorite types of knives and guns? Their top ten ways to kill someone? Vernal just knew that it was much better to just put up some distance between each other. Mercury and Emerald would hang out with each other. That Neo girl would do... whatever it is she did when they weren't watching.

And Vernal would enjoy her lunch by herself. At least, the food here was decent enough. As much as it sucked she couldn't get any booze here, at least, they served some decent meat and fruit as well as some sweets. The latter of which they didn't keep around in the tribe.

Pancakes and waffles were, in particular, the rare treats around her home. She reached for the last plate standing when someone else grabbed it out of her reach. Well, this was looking like a good day already.

"Sorry, you snooze you lose~" the girl with ginger head and sickeningly sweet voice said in a sing-song tone as she made away with her pancakes. Heh, if it wasn't for the girl's love of frilly and pink, they might have gotten along. After all, pancakes, as everything else, belonged to those who got them first.

And who was strong enough to hold onto them.

"What the- Woah!"

The girl slipped and fell, her tray flying up with everything else. Eggs, bacon and juice all spilled all over the floor. And only the plate of flapjacks were safe, carefully snatched by Vernal. Her Semblance was usually for combat only. But who would judge her for that?

"Oh my God, Nora! Are you okay?"

Vernal didn't even make three steps away from the mess when she heard a familiar voice. As she sat down at the nearest empty table she watched as the three other students surrounded the gingerhead. A redheaded tall girl. A boy with pink strand of hair. And the blonde she kind of assumed was dead by now.

So they were a team, huh.

To her credit, the girl, now identified as Nora, didn't make much of a fuss about her clothes or hair as Vernal expected. She looked positively nonchalant until her eyes caught something missing among the pile of food. Eyes suddenly narrow and sharp, the girl looked around the room until her eyes zeroed in on Vernal.

Specifically, her plate of pancakes.

Vernal smirked as she slowly cut a piece of thick cooked dough, covered in honey and sprinkled with berries. Just as slowly she brought it to her mouth without breaking an eye contact with the girl. Their eyes locked, Vernal bit into the treat, making sure to show the gingerhead just how much she enjoyed it. The quickly growing scandalous look on the girl's face made the already sweet treat so much more delicious.

You know what, maybe the breakfast was a great time to be petty.

"You thief!"

With the impressive speed, the girl was in her face, an accusing finger pointing in her face. Under the scrutinizing gaze, Vernal saw no other option than take another slow bite and say, in a mocking imitation of the girl's voice, "Sorry, you snooze you lose~"

"Why you..." The girl looked positively murderous, ready to get into a fight. Great, just what she needed. And hey, whatever happened to it would in self-defense so she could go pretty much all out. "Rennie?"

Or would have, if her boyfriend didn't step in. Along with the two other people. "Come on, Nora. You may have mine if you want."

"Eh, but yours are never as sweet as I like them," Nora whined. "Can I have Jaune's instead?"

"Hey, I never agreed to that!" Arc protested. Only to fold in when the brunette gave him the look that said it all: his pancakes were no longer his and he had to deal with it. "Oh, alright alright. I'll just double down on the cereal then. Oh hey, Vernal!"

"Hello, Jaune," Vernal greeted him in return. "I see you aren't dead. Congrats, I guess."

Arc laughs awkwardly, probably thinking her words were a joke instead of genuine surprise. "Thanks, Vernal. I couldn't do it without you helping you there. Hey, where's your team, by the way?"

Probably robbing a shop or torturing someone. "They decided to skip breakfast."

"Why don't you join us then?" Vernal groaned silently. "My mom always said, breakfast is best with people."

Not when anyone could snatch your food when you aren't looking, Vernal wanted to add. Unlike the blonde overe here, Vernal actually liked being by herself when eating. No bastards smoking near her food or trying to stick their fingers in it. She had half a mind to tell the blondie to go and screw himself. But the way Jaune was smiling told her she wouldn't get out of it that easily. "Sure, thanks."

"Great, let's go then!"

The breakfast went from quiet attempt to enjoy her food to the lively conversation with the group. Surprisingly, the whole situation was not as annoying as she might have expected. None of them pried too much or did anything to particularly annoy her. And, in a way, it helped her out with her mission. As it turned out, Jaune got himself the famous Pyrrha Nikos as partner. She didn't even recognize her, with how shy and quiet the girl in front of her was acting.

Someone as strong as Nikos should have carried herself with more weight.

Still, Champion of four years in a row was someone she might need to keep an eye on. If Ozpin was half as smart as Raven described him, he would pick someone strong. But also someone gullible or naive enough to mold into a perfect little Maiden. Mistralian Champion with obvious self-esteem issue would definitely do. Not the only potential candidate but one who fit the bill well enough.

"Hey guys!" Slowly, four more people joined their small group. This one, looking all so much more interesting. With the exception of the quiet brunette with a dumb bow, she recognized the three easily. Two girls from the night before the exam, one of which was the potential score of a lifetime and another was a jailbait brat. "Who's your new friend?"

And, of course, Vernal recognized Yang Xiao Long. The weakling Raven had abandoned. The daughter whom her leader didn't want to have. She would have lied if she said she wasn't itching for the chance to meet her. If only to see what kind of warrior Raven's daughter could be.

"The name's Vernal," Frankly, she wasn't impressed. The blondie was strong, that much was obvious to anyone. She was strong but not powerful. For her, strength meant just raw physical power, disregarding the ruthlessness and killing instinct necessary to be truly strong. She could see it in the way the girl carried herself. Not like a warrior who would slay anyone who opposed her. But rather a fool who thought she could take on any challenge that came her way. "Nice to meet you."

The girl shook her hand, without any hint of doubt or suspicion. Even with her teeth shown and eyes sharp, Xiao Long didn't think twice before letting her get so close to her. If Vernal wanted, she could kill her. A knife within her reach would be enough - she was too fast for the girl to activate her Aura in time. And just like that, the bimbo would be dead and Raven would have one less nuisance distracting her.

Then again, murdering a fellow student would be a bitch to explain.

As the discussion within the group shifts from discussing weapons to weekend plans to dances and teachers, Vernal is feeling more and more frustrated with her position. With her plate now cleaned of any food, she asks what class they have first. And silently, she prays that it is not the Port's class on Grimm. She would rather suck Shay off than listen to another lecture by the man.

When she hears that they have the Combat Class by Goodwitch first, Vernal feels genuine relief. She finally gets to kick some ass around the place without any worry for her cover.

"For the final match," Goodwitch says as the screen behind her is flashing with photos of students. "Cardin Winchester and Jaune Arc, come forward and prepare your weapons."

By this point, Vernal is ready to go out and fight the woman herself. Having been forced to sit out the whole class watching the others fight was one thing. But having to watch these morons fight so poorly was just infuriating. Everyone moved slow. Their attacks were sloppy and didn't have any actual force behind it. They were holding back, afraid to hurt someone. Scared of getting hurt in return.

Vernal was simply disgusted with it. And the final match promised nothing better.

Winchester was a hulking mass of muscles. And he had some skills and traits Raven would appreciate. But the shining armor he wore along with the arrogant grin that seemed to have been painted all over his face made him look less of a fellow survivor and predator and more like a hyena. It was clear that all that he had came from power and money. And those born into those things were always the first to break under pressure.

That, however, didn't change how this match would end.

Because even if Winchester was an arrogant prick, he still had enough strength to act like one. And Arc, for all his passion about being a Huntsman, was weak and as skilled as a toddler in terms of combat.

The match proceeded just as she expected. The bigger guy didn't seem bothered by the gap between them. In fact, it was quite the opposite as it was clear to everyone that Winchester enjoyed kicking the blondie all across the ring like a puppy. Arc was clearly faster and more agile but, just as with his sword and shield, lacked any actual experience in using those to his advantage.

In the end, Arc has no other option other than put all his remaining strength into holding his shield and taking on the hits. Vernal is somewhat impressed with how long it takes blondie to run out of Aura. His reserves are definitely twice what a normal huntsman his age should have. If he were better trained, he would make a fearsome warrior with those reserves. But the way he is right now, all he can do and is doing right now is just whimpering behind his shield as he weathers down the hits.

"Mr. Arc's Aura is in the Red, Mr. Winchester wins the match," Judging by her tone, the older Huntress hardly considers this a match and Vernal can't help but agree with her. A bully dishing out hits and leaving himself open because of his arrogance. And a weakling too unskilled to take advantage of said openings and turn the tide. "We will be covering the shortcomings of you both next class. Trust me, there is enough to last a semester."

Winchester scowls at the insult but doesn't do anything. To the professor, that is. As soon as Goodwitch's attention is focused on the rest of the class, the bigger guy quickly shoves past the blonde, knocking him down. Vernal expects the latter to yell, get angry, do something. And, unsurprisingly, she is disappointed as she sees the blonde just bury his eyes in the ground as he simmers in his own frustration and self-pity.

She stays a bit longer and watches on as his teammates try to comfort him. It's not his fault, they say. He will get better, Nikos promises. With a smile a bit too eager and desperate, she offers to train him. Get him up to speed on some basics. A generous offer, if one asked Vernal. She heard some people were willing to pay top Lien for private lessons from the Invincible Girl.

"Thanks," the blonde responds, with much edge to his tone than she expected from him. The trio mistake it for frustration with his loss. But Vernal feels like there's more to it. "I mean it, Pyrrha"

And in that moment, she sees something worth her attention. It is small but unmistakable for Vernal. The smallest glynt in Arc's eyes as he considers Nikos' offer. Briefest and impossible to catch unless you were watching, but it is there. But it is not the noble or grateful spark in the eyes of an aspiring hero. Not the bright flames of determined champion of the weak and oppressed.

But rather the same lust for power she and Raven shared.

The desire to be stronger than anyone else.

Vernal scoffed to herself as she gathered her things to leave. There was a spark, but hardly anything more. So what if the boy had some twisted desire for strength like her? From what she had seen, he had neither the drive nor readiness to do what needed to be done to achieve that kind of power. He wasn't willing to stain his hands and siul with the blood of others.

In the end, it was only those two things that determined whether you were predator or prey. And Jaune Arc had neither of those traits. He was a rabbit wishing to be the wolf. And creatures like that didn't last long out in the cold cruel world.

A sad yet simple fact.

Days pass and Vernal wonders how long she would have to stay here. The classes are boring and useless as far as she is concerned. She knew plenty about killing Grimm and surviving in the wild. Why she needed to know about history was beyond her.

Luckily for her and any poor soul who'd suffer for her boredom, just when it seemed she was ready to start some trouble for the sake of having something to do, she happened to overhear something truly intriguing. A conversation between Nikos and Jaune, one she caught only thanks to her room being so close to the roof.

She expected a lot of stuff. A heartfelt confession. Or maybe even the two banging up there. Whatever high school cliche on the roof you could expect, she did. But what she heard was something completely unexpected. Though, in hindisght, maybe she shouldn't have been.

"So what you are saying is, that Arc kid faked his way in here" Black asks in the mid of their spar. For an asshole with no legs, he fights well enough. He actually makes her break a sweat. "Gotta say, I didn't expect that from him. It's always the dumb ones, I suppose."

Vernal notices that tiniest bit of respect in assassin's voice. And she can see why. Faking documents wasn't exactly an easy task. His fake ID was good enough for her to use, sure, but she never expected something of this scale.

Forging the certification from a huntsman school well enough to enroll into Beacon? This wasn't some sick note to skip school or prescription for drugs. This was the place where future fighters of humanity were raised into warriors of high calibre. To fake it so well... Jaune certainly had some talent for it. His skill would definitely be useful for the jobs in the cities if he were a part of the tribe.

Too bad he was too busy chasing after fairy tales and daydreaming.

"Cinder will like it," Sustrai smirks. "If I am right on Nikos crushing on that guy, we can use it as leverage. Get him to dig up whatever weaknesses the Champion has."

Vernal sighs in annoyance. That was indeed a good leverage. But just like everything else, only good in the right time. And theirs might have passed them by already.

"I doubt that will work out right now. From what I saw, Nikos is giving him a cold shoulder right now. Man, for a professional athelete, she is really uptight about the whole cheating thing."

Seriously, where could honest work get you in life? Slaving away from morning till night in some office as those born into power and money kept bragging about their hard work? Or work until your body breaks for someone to swoop in and take all that you've earned? In the end, the world didn't care if you got what you had by honest work or through cheating.

All that mattered was if you were strong enough to hold onto what was yours.

"And then there is Winchester," Vernal scoffs as she blocks Black's kick and goes for his gut. He dodges but she finds an opportunity to get him in the shoulder. "He knows it too."

The thief and the merc exchange brief looks before the latter smirks, "Feeling sorry for the Arc kid? Don't tell me someone got a crush."

The comment costs him a blow to the chest. Her crushing on Jaune? Right, as if she wanted to have some needy weakling for a boyfriend. As if she even wanted one. The guy looked like the kind of sap who would try and introduce her to his family after the third date or so. Life was short and Vernal wasn't one for commitments. And most definitely not to someone as weak and pathetic as that kid.

"I could care less about what happens to someone as weak as him," Vernal says honestly. "But lately the prick's been getting bolder. Thinks that just cause he got some weakling under his thumb, he is the king of the fucking school."

And she hated those kinds of assholes. Because if there was one thing Vernal despised more than weaklings, it was weaklings who thought they were some tough shit. Then again, she couldn't just kick his ass. Everyone knew that she was stronger than him. Her beating him up wouldn't humiliate him as much as she wanted him to be. No... If she wanted Winchester crushed, he had be beaten by someone he saw as weak. Someone whose victory over Winchester would leave him burning with shame.

"I am tired of being weak... This is why I came here. To learn how to fight. To never be left behind as my friends put themselves in danger trying to protect me!"

Arc's words from that night echo across her mind. She didn't buy all that crap about him wanting to protect friends, of course. What, would he be happy being weak and useless if there were no enemies? No, underneath all noble and heroic act the boy convinced even himself of, he wanted the same thing as all the people wanted. The same thing that people would fight and die for.

Power.

Winchester wanted power to push those weaker than him around. Black sought power to be free. Sustrai was a moron who hungered not for her own power but sought to give it all to her owner. And Vernal wished to be strong just for the sake of being strong. In the end, none of that crap mattered. Why they wanted it. How they would use it. None of meant anything.

It only mattered that you had power.

For power, you would sacrifice your soul and heart. For power, you would break your body over and over again. For the sake of never feeling weak, you'd do anything.

Even betray your partner.

"Leave Nikos to me," Vernal smiles as the plan brews in her head. "By the time I am done with Arc, he will be ready to hand over whatever he has on Nikos."

Power came before everything, after all.

Mom always said that hatred was like poison. It entered your body and killed you from the inside. She always told them how important it was to let it go. Let the anger and rage wash all over you and fade away.

But how could he do that when he was drowning in this hatred?

"You better have my paper ready by tomorrow, Jauneyboy!"

Jaune grits his teeth as he struggles to keep himself in control. The bully notices it and smirks at the impotent rage on Jaune's face. He makes sure to look him in the eyes, challenging him to do something - anything at all.

He wishes he had enough strength to fight Cardin. To wipe that arrogant grin from his damn face. Or failing that, make it damn hard for Cardin to win. But he doesn't have the strength to do it. What's worse, he doesn't have the guts to even try doing something. Not just a weakling but a coward too...

Though honestly, what even was there for him to do? Even if somehow, through some miracle, he was strong enough to beat Cardin, he would still be ratted out and expelled. He would be paraded out of the school as everyone saw him for a fraud he was. And forging the documents into a huntsmen academy wasn't as forgivable as making fake IDs to get some alcohol.

At best, he would be blacklisted from all schools that trained huntsmen. He wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the academies and his best chance at fighting Grimm would be joining some faraway outpost city.

At worst, he might even go to jail. Mom and sisters would be devastated. And dad would blame himself for everything. His family would be shunned by everyone around them as the news of their only ending up in jail spread.

In the end, it didn't matter what he did. He was screwed either way unless he somehow got Cardin to never tell his secret.

"I always could kill him and bury his body somewhere in the forest," Jaune jokes as he walks to his room. His mind is falling apart under the stress as he struggles to do the double workload thanks to Cardin making trouble each and every class. "Yeah, right, that would totally solve all my problems."

"Don't be so sarcastic," a familiar tone interrupts his thoughts. Jaune is surprised to see Vernal. And slightly embarrassed about saying those things out loud. "Violence solves a lot of problems. More than you'd think, actually."

He gives Vernal a tired smile and half-hearted greeting, "Vernal, hey," Secretly he wishes he was in a better mood right now. Vernal was a good person, not the nicest girl, but a good one. "Sorry, but I am a little busy right now. I-"

"I know your secret, Jaune," the girl smiles and Jaune can almost feel the ground slip from under his feet. "I know all about your transcripts."

Suddenly, Vernal doesn't look as innocent or harmless as before. There is no pity or disappointment in her voice or eyes, but neither there is any support. As he looks longer at her, his heartbeat grows more frantic as he sees the same miscievous glynt in her eyes. The same burning in the eyes that he saw in Cardin's.

Both look like predators. But if Cardin looked like a hungry beast who had caught its prey, Vernal seemed more akin to a cat.

She looked like she wanted to play with him.

"Vernal, please, just listen," he doesn't even try to play dumb. The girl's eyes tell him that she knows everything and won't be fooled. "I know I messed up and I know you don't owe me anything, but please, don't tell anyone about it. Whatever you want, I will do it."

Pathetic and weak. Coward and wuss. Those are some of the nicer words that swin in his mind as he is trying to get Vernal's silence. Gods, how pathetic could he be? He wasn't strong enough to get in without cheating. And now he was too much of a coward to face the consequences like a man should. Though disgusted, he still begs and pleads for silence.

"You are tired, aren't you?" Vernal's question stops his pleas and he looks up at her in confusion. "The stress of keeping the secret, the whole Winchester mess... Those are really troublesome, aren't they?"

He nods miserably, feeling as the weight on his shoulders is slowly being lifted. "I just wanted to be a huntsman... To get strong enough to protect others. Where did it all go so wrong?"

"You chose the wrong purpose, that's all," Vernal smiles at his confusion. Wrong purpose? What was wrong with seeking strength for the people he loved and wanted to protect? "People don't seek power for the sake of others. The only person you should seek power is yourself and only yourself."

"That's not true," he quickly protested. "Huntsmen and huntresses all across Remnant train to help others. To fight the Grimm. How is that not for the sake of protecting those who can't protect themselves?"

"I think it is the part where they are strong to deal with Grimm," Vernal chuckles when he has nothing to say to that. "Think about it, Jaune, why seek power to fight Grimm if not to ensure that you don't have to fear them yourself? How many huntsmen and huntresses trained and graduated from one of the four academis yet chose to find safer places where they are the strongest?"

No, she was wrong. "There may be some bad people, Vernal. But that doesn't mean that all of the hunters are out for their own gain!"

"Yes, you are not one of them, are you? You only have the noble intentions," Vernal sounds genuine, yet something in her voice rubs him the wrong way. Like garlic floating in sweet tea. "Which is why I want to help you out."

What?

"Really?" he curses under his breath at the note of suspicion that creeps into his words. Vernal seems unfazed, even somewhat amused, by it though. "Why would you do that?"

"Maybe I have a thing for you. Maybe I fell for you the moment you came in that ridiculous sleepwear and have been pining for you ever since, waiting for the chance to get closer to you," Jaune chuckles humorelessly at the obvious bait. Normally, he would blush and stutter at the way Vernal widened her eyes and spoke just a tiny bit higher, obviously mocking the cliche romance tropes. But it was his life and dream at stake right now, so it was a bit harder for him to feel anything but fear and pressure. "Or maybe I just think there should be more noble huntsmen around. Someone who knows right from wrong. Someone willing to fight for what he believes in."

Coupled with her comments from before, Jaune can't help but feel the doubt in his gut grow. Was she serious about training him? Or was she just stringing him along for the sake of some cruel joke?

"She is not Cardin," Jaune chastised himself as he looked at Vernal again. This was the girl he befriended on his first night here. The same girl who helped him get down from the tree and even unlocked his Aura. Because of all the shit Cardin pulled on him, he now was blaming an innocent girl of something she didn't even do.

"I would like to take you up on this offer then," Jaune takes her hand. For a second, he feels the weird cold feeling coil around his heart. As if he was stepping into the dirty waters or night forest. He quickly shakes off the uncomfortable feeling, opting to focus on the more important things. "You can't imagine how much this means for me. Ever since I fought with Pyrrha-"

No. He won't talk about Pyrrha. Not like that. Not behind her back. His partner didn't deserve him lashing out at her back then. And she certainly didn't deserve him talking trash about her just bgecause he was dealing with consequences of his own actions.

"That's no problem, Jaune," Vernal smiles. "I am sure you will pay me back someday."

Definitely.

"I give you my word, Vernal. And an Arc never goes back on his word."

Invincible Girl was the idol of countless people. The Champion of Mistral, capable of taking on any opponent, be it a professional fighter just like her or a very personal and invasive interviewer. Yes, Invincible Girl was indeed a confident and unshakeable person.

Too bad that Pyrrha Nikos was a nervous wreck, always anxious and worried. Her fame and success kept the others away from her. Alienated and starved for the interaction with her peers, she wished just for the normal person whom she could talk to without them going crazy over her status as the Champion.

And then she finally found one in Jaune. He had no idea who she was or how much being a Mistralian Champion meant. With him, she could be just Pyrrha Nikos. Not an Invincible Girl who had to carry herself with the power and esteem of the elite warrior but just another teenager.

And then she pushed him away.

Sure, Jaune had cheated his way in. But his heart was in the right place. He just needed someone to help him and Pyrrha was sure he would make an exceptional huntsman. But their first training session ended unpleasantly and now Pyrrha had no idea how to fix it with him. For all the interviews and meet-n-greet's she's done over the years, she still had no idea how to smoothly talk to someone when they had a fight.

Jaune, I don't agree with what you did but I want to help.

Hey, Jaune, weird week we are having, right?

Hi, Jaune! Wanna get back to training tonight and pretend nothing happened?

It wasn't just the fact that they had a fight, but also Cardin's increasing bullying of her partner. She wanted to put an end and she could. On the other hand, how could she know it wouldn't only worsen the relationship between her Jaune? If she just went and made Cardin stop bullying her partner, how could she knoew Jaune wouldn't see it as her looking down on him?

No. She was going to talk to him. No hesitation or doubt. The moment he walked inside, they would talk and resolve all their issues. No match could be won by remaining on the defense or waiting for your opponent to make a mistake. You had to be proactive and create opportunities on your own. With deep breath, Pyrrha promised herself that the moment Jaune came back, she would talk to him.

The door clicked open. Jaune entered. That confidence vanished.

"Hey, Pyrrha,"

Crap.

"Hi, Jaune," she smiled politely. "How was your day?"

"Not bad," he responded briefly, going for the closet in search of something.

"Good, that's good," she said and, for a few brief moments, there was awkward silence. Finally, Pyrrha decided to follow through with her tactic. "Look, Jaune, I know that- Wait... Where are you going?"

Only now did she realize that in those brief silent minutes, Jaune had changed out of his school uniform into some training gear. What concerned her even more was almost manic expression on his face as he packed Crocea Mors.

A small spark of hope lit up in Pyrrha. Could it be that Jaune also wished to bury that fight and get on with their training? "I see you are going to train," Jaune nodded in response as he checked his bag. "Great, just let me change into my workout clothes and I-"

Someone knocked on their door. Loud and hard.

"Hey, Goldilocks! Hurry up!"Pyrrha's words died in her throat as her mind struggled to match the face to the voice from behind the door. Not Nora or anyone from team RWBY. Then who was this? "You make me wait one more minute and I am breaking the door!"

"Oh man, she is pissed," Jaune didn't look afraid or surprised. In fact, he looked positively excited. Just who was this girl? "Sorry, Pyrrha, can't talk right now. I will be late so tell Ren and Nora not to worry."

Another loud banging on the door, followed by something that sounded suspiciously similar to blades being sharpened. "Five... Four... Three..."

"Okay, gotta go. Good night, Pyrrha!"

With a swipe of his keycard, Jaune opened the door. Behind it stood the girl whom Pyrrha vaguely recognized from their breakfast a week or so ago. Now also clad in combat gear of sorts, the girl looked positively annoyed. "Just for making me wait, I will make sure you are all sore by the morning. Oh, hey there, Champion."

"Hi, Vernal," Pyrrha feels something form in the pit of her stomach. Something small but hot. Something ugly and unpleasant. And that feeling grows bigger and stronger the longer she looks at Vernal and how close Jaune stands to her. "W-Where are you two going?"

"Just some late-night training," Vernal smirks. And Pyrrha can't help but feel the urge to wipe it off her face. "Jaune over here asked me to beat him into shape. Hope you don't mind if I borrow him for a few nights."

She did mind. She minded very much.

"Oh, sure," curse her tongue. "I am really happy Jaune has someone like you to help him out."

Even though he already had a professional fighter as his partner.

"Cool, then I'll return him by breakfast," Vernal slapped Pyrrha's shoulder, giving her a wide grin. Then, turning to the left, she called out for Jaune, "Let's go already. Trust me, blondie, you want to start the training as soon as possible."

Jaune doesn't even question or comment, instead obediently following the instructions as he runs after the girl. As she watches the two leave, that nasty burning feeling coils itself around her heart like a snake. Her fists clench and, for a brief moment, she considers fighting the girl right there and then. But then she stops...

It was good that Jaune found someone to help him out. Even if it wasn't her, Pyrrha wasn't going to start trouble over some jeal- concern for her partner. It was rational, after all. It was logical and normal to allow Jaune to train under whoever he wanted, he was old enough to make his choices after all.

But the further they left, the less Pyrrha believed her own words. And as the two disappeared behind the corner, that ugly feeling tightened its hold around her heart. She was happy for Jaune. But she certainly did not trust Vernal. Whatever was happening between the two, she would keep a close eye on it.

For both her and Jaune's sake.

Vernal smiled as she stood in the pale moonlight, enjoying the sensation of cold light on her skin. Opposite of her, clad in his own gear, Arc stood ready. Ready to listen. Ready to follow. Ready to obey. In a way, she felt some gratitude to Winchester for driving the boy so desperate that he would listen to her every word. People, when backed into corner, would always take any chance to get out of it, after all.

"I hope you are ready to hurt, Goldilocks." She cracked her knuckles and let her Aura flare. "Because I am not going easy on you."

No pep talk. No kiddy gloves. No safe words or any other crap. If he wanted to be strong, he had to be vicious and mean. No matter how much she pushed, he wouldn't get to Cardin's level of brute force. So they would make up for that with pure viciousness and resilience.

"I am ready, Vernal."

To his credit, the blondie didn't let himself be intimidated. Instead, he stood tall and confident. Determined to take on any pain as long as he got what he wanted. That kind of determination was almost impressive. Bigger men than him ran away from her, begging for mercy.

"Do your worst..."

Despite being weaker, he grins. And in that grin, in those azure eyes, she sees the same hunger she once saw in her own reflection. The same desire for power that started out innocent and then turned primal. The same look in her eyes when she promised herself to stand above all with her strength. The same fire that burned in her eyes today every time she fought.

"Because I am not backing down!"

And she liked what she was seeing.

#rwby #writing #jaune arc #Vernal #jaune x vernal #rogue knight #Commission

102 notes · View notes

readbookywooks · 7 years

Text

Through The Trapdoor

In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.　　

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an AntiCheating spell.　　

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox -- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion.　　

Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him ever since his trip into the forest. Neville thought Harry had a bad case of exam nerves because Harry couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harry kept being woken by his old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it.　　

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harry had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ron and Hermione didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harry. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Snape or anyone else might be up to.　　

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harry couldn't help cheering with the rest.　　

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."　　Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."　　

Harry was rubbing his forehead.　　

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting -- it's happened before, but never as often as this."　　

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.　　

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming...."　　

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.　　

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."　　

Harry nodded, but he couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something he'd forgotten to do, something important. When he tried to explain this, Hermione said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one."　　

Harry was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. He watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy... never... but --　　

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.　　

"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.　　

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."　　

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.　　

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"　　

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.　　

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.　　

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"　　

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.　　

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"　　

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."　　

He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.　　

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head -- that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."　　

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"　　

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here.... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks.... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home.... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."　　

"And did he -- did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, try ing to keep his voice calm.　　

"Well -- yeah -- how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep --"　　

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.　　

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey -- where're yeh goin'?"　　

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.　　

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak -- it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"　　

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.　　

"We'll just have to --" Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.　　

"What are you three doing inside?"　　

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.　　

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely, Harry and Ron thought.　　

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"　　

Harry swallowed -- now what?　　

"It's sort of secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.　　

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."　　

"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"　　

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time --　　

"But this is important."　　

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter.　　

"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor -- it's about the Sorcerer's stone --"　　

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms, but she didn't pick them up. "How do you know --?" she spluttered.　　

"Professor, I think -- I know -- that Sn- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."　　

She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion.　　

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally. I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."　　

"But Professor --"　　

"Potter, I know what I'm talking about," she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."　　

But they didn't.　　

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."　　

"But what can we --"　　

Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round.　　

Snape was standing there.　　

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.　　

They stared at him.　　

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.　　

"We were --" Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.　　

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"　　

Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.　　

"Be warned, Potter -- any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."　　

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.　　

Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to the others.　　

"Right, here's what we've got to do," he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape -- wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."　　

"Why me?"　　

"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong....'"　　

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.　　

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told Ron. "Come on."　　

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, she lost her temper.　　

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you 've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!" Harry and Ron went back to the common room, Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.　　

"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Snape went."　　

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.　　

The other two stared at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering.　　

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."　　

"You're mad!" said Ron.　　

"You can't!" said Hermione. "After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"　　

"SO WHAP" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"　　

He glared at them.　　

"You're right Harry," said Hermione in a small voice.　　

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."　　

"But will it cover all three of us?" said Ron.　　

"All -- all three of us?"　　

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"　　

"Of course not," said Hermione briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful..."　　

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too."　　

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."　　

After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. This was the first night he hadn't been upset by it. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do.　　Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.　　

"Better get the cloak," Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. He putted 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 down to the common room.　　

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

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though he'd been making another bid for freedom.　　

"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the cloak behind his back.　　

Neville stared at their guilty faces.　　

"You're going out again," he said.　　

"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"　　

Harry looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.　　

"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."　　

"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."　　

But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.　　

I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll -- I'll fight you!"　　

"Neville, "Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot --"　　

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"　　

"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."　　

He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.　　

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"　　Harry turned to Hermione.　　

"Do something," he said desperately.　　

Hermione stepped forward.　　

"Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this."　　

She raised her wand.　　

"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, pointing it at Neville.　　

Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.　　

Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.　　

"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.　　

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."　　

"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.　　

"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron as they stepped over him and pulled on the invisibility cloak.　　

But leaving Neville lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. 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 lamplike 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 toward 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 about a foot off the stairs.　　

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake -- I didn't see you -- of course I didn't, you're invisible -- forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."　　

"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 business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."　　

And he scooted off　　

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.　　

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's already got past Fluffy."　　Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three 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 now."　　

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.　　

"We're coming," 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.　　

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.　　

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."　　

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry. "Well, here goes..."　　

He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased -- it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.　　

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harry as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"　　

"No, I don't!"　　

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.　　

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.　　

"Nothing -- just black -- there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."　　

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ron to get his attention and pointed at himself.　　

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermione so she can keep him asleep."　　

Harry handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep.　　

Harry climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.　　

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"　　

"Right," said Ron.　　

"See you in a minute, I hope...　　

And Harry let go. Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell down, down, down and -- FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump he landed on something soft. He sat up and felt around, his eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though he was sitting on some sort of plant.　　

"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"　　

Ron followed right away. He landed, sprawled next to Harry.　　

"What's this stuff?" were his first words.　　

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermione!"　　

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermione had already jumped. She landed on Harry's other side.　　

"We must be miles under the school , she said.　　

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.　　

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you both!"　　

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.　　

Hermione had managed to free herself before the plant got a firm grip on her. Now she watched in horror as the two boys fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.　　

"Stop moving!" Hermione ordered them. "I know what this is -- it's Devil's Snare!"　　

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ron, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around his neck. "Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermione.　　

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.　　

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare... what did Professor Sprout say? -- it likes the dark and the damp　　"So light a fire!" Harry choked.　　

"Yes -- of course -- but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.　　

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ron bellowed. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"　　

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the two boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.　　

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione," said Harry as he joined her by the wall, wiping sweat off his face.　　

"Yeah," said Ron, "and lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis -- 'there's no wood,' honestly."　　

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.　　

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon -- Norbert had been bad enough...　　

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.　　

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.　　

"Do you think it's a ghost?"　　

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."　　

"There's light ahead -- I can see something moving."　　

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.　　

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.　　

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."　　

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.　　

The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.　　

"Now what?" said Ron.　　

"These birds... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.　　

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering -- glittering?　　

"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys -- look carefully. So that must mean..." he looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "... yes -- look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"　　

"But there are hundreds of them!"　　

Ron examined the lock on the door.　　

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one -- probably silver, like the handle."　　

They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.　　

Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.　　

"That one!" he called to the others. "That big one -- there -- no, there -- with bright blue wings -- the feathers are all crumpled on one side."　　

Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off his broom.　　

"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above -- Hermione, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"　　Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harry streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harry leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Ron and Hermione's cheers echoed around the high chamber.　　

They landed quickly, and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned -- it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.　　

"Ready?" Harry asked the other two, his hand on the door handle. They nodded. He pulled the door open.　　

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.　　

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly -- the towering white chessmen had no faces.　　

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.　　

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."　　

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.　　

"How?" said Hermione nervously.　　

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."　　

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.　　

"Do we -- er -- have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.　　

"This needs thinking about he said. I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces...."　　

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess --"　　

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."　　

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, YOU 90 next to him instead of that castle."　　

"What about you?"　　

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.　　

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, and Hermione took.　　

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."　　

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.　　

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?　　

"Harry -- move diagonally four squares to the right."　　

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown.　　

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."　　

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.　　

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think let me think..."　　The white queen turned her blank face toward him.　　

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."　　

"NOF Harry and Hermione shouted.　　

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me -- that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"　　

"But --"　　

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"　　

"Ron --"　　

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"　　

There was no alternative.　　

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."　　

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.　　

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.　　

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.　　

"What if he's --?"　　

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"　　

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."　　

They had reached another door.　　

"All right?" Harry whispered.　　

"Go on."　　Harry pushed it open.　　

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.　　

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."　　

He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.　　

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"　　

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.　　

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over her shoulder to read it:　　

Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,　　

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,　　

One among us seven will let you move ahead,　　

Another will transport the drinker back instead,　　

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,　　

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.　　

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,　　

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:　　

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide　　

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;　　

Second, different are those who stand at either end,　　

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;　　

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,　　

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;　　

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right　　

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.　　

Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.　　

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic -- it's logic -- a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."　　

"But so will we, won't we?" "Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."　　"But how do we know which to drink?"　　

"Give me a minute."　　Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.　　

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire -- toward the Stone."　　

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.　　

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."　　

They looked at each other.　　

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"　　

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.　　

"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy -- go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."　　

"But Harry -- what if You-Know-Who's with him?"　　

"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."　　

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.　　

"Hermione!"　　

"Harry -- you're a great wizard, you know."　　

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.　　

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harry -- be careful!"　　

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"　　

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.　　

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.　　

"No -- but it's like ice."　　

"Quick, go, before it wears off."　　

"Good luck -- take care."　　

"GO!"　　

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.　　

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.　　

"Here I come," he said, and he 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 dark 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.

#PhilosophersStone #HarryPotter #SorcerersStone #books

0 notes