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AFiF 4, Chapter 38: The Stone
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 01:38:09 +0000 UTCXXXVII. The Stone
What little light had followed him into the hole quickly flickered away. Harry blinked once, then twice, his eyes lazily adjusting to the darkness.
Now where am I?
He curiously tapped at the floor underheel. The echoing sound of what could only be cold stone pressed against his ears.
“Huh,” Harry huffed thoughtfully, “Which means I must be -”
Wack!
“Son of a bitch!” Harry snapped, furiously cupping the back of his head. He whirled around, pointing his wand at whatever had struck him. The culprit glimmered some few feet away from him, floating lazily in the air.
“Oh,” Harry rolled his eyes, glaring at the glass sphere, “It’s you.”
The sphere hummed to itself. Harry flipped it off.
“Dickhead.”
I probably shouldn’t keep swearing in front of it.
Shrugging, he turned around, holding his wand aloft.
“Lumos!”
An overpowered burst of light tore through the cavern. Harry found himself encased by tall walls covered in writing he didn’t recognize.
“C’mere, sphere,” Harry called, hastily stepping towards the walls, “We’d better make sure these aren’t runes . . .”
He edged closer, squinting at the writing. To his great relief, not one symbol seemed to hold a runic glow, nor did any magic emanate from them.
So it’s not entirely a death trap, it seems.
“Stupid idea, by the way,” Harry noted, walking down what now appeared to be a corridor. The sphere followed lazily overhead, “Having us explore one of Grindelwald’s battlefields. I doubt even Snape would stoop that low . . . mostly because it sounds like a war crime, but still . . .”
Shrugging to himself, Harry reached into his robes, withdrawing the golden feather from earlier. He waved it fondly before the camera.
“Oh, and I have this, too.”
Smiling, he popped it into his mouth, clenching the stem between his thumb and pointer finger. He imagined he looked as though he were sucking on a lemon.
If Gabby was lying then I might just look like an idiot.
After a long moment, he sighed heavily, prying the moist feather from his mouth. Only the base of the stem held any semblance of gold colour, the rest having faded to a dull white.
Bingo.
He glanced up at the sphere almost expectantly as though it was set to burst into flames any moment now. To his slight disappointment, it remained irritably functional, humming all the while.
“Oh well,” Harry sighed, “Come on, then. We’ve got a flower to find.”
A petal, actually, but who really cares?
And he set off again, whistling sagely. It was a weird sensation, being under the effects of the lucky feather - or at least, Harry hoped it was. He didn’t exactly feel lucky - in fact, Harry didn’t really feel much of anything at all. And yet at every stop, at every twist and turn, he just knew exactly where to go -
“Left, don’t you think?” Harry asked the sphere as they approached another end, “Blimey, I really hope this feather actually is from a Firebird. I wouldn’t put it past Karkaroff to paint an Augurey gold. If there are any Magical Creatures Welfare groups, be sure to charge him, won’t you?
Never really liked that guy much.
Nodding to himself, Harry turned left. For the first time all day, he found himself faced with a wide open room rather than another boring corridor. His eyes narrowed slightly as a familiar sensation flitted beneath his skin.
Danger.
“There should be something here waiting for me, shouldn’t there?” he thought aloud, “Or is this feather really that lucky -”
BANG!
Mounds of stone and rubble flew through the room. Harry lazily flicked his wand before him, watching as a thin shield of contorted air flung the debris away from him.
If that isn’t anti-climactic . . .
But the feeling that had built within him refused to fade. Frowning, Harry stepped further into the room, his wand held aloft.
I don’t understand -
And he saw it. A bony hand was clawing at the rubble, struggling to pry itself from the earth. In fact, now that he was paying attention, Harry spotted a great many hands. Dozens and dozens of them, each flitting through the stones, struggling to free themselves -
“Skeletons? Harry frowned, “But I thought skeletons were enchantments, not actual creatures . . .”
This task is more artificial than I thought.
“Probably a good thing, all things considered,” Harry muttered to himself, brandishing his wand. He aimed a Blasting Curse at the exposed skeletal arms.
“Confringo!”
His magic flared as it spun through the air, crashing harmlessly into one of the many skeletal arms. Debris flew across the room, and Harry frowned.
Really well enchanted, then.
“It’s really rude not to die when I do that, you know,” he called irritably, striding closer, “Although I suppose I might be asking a bit to much, given that you’re - well, already dead -”
He watched curiously as the figures began to make their way out of the rubble. A strange, flesh-strewn face stared back at him. Though unmistakably dead, it did not resemble any skeleton Harry had ever seen before.
“What the -”
Harry stumbled back. More and more of these beings pried themselves from the Earth. They all stared at him, their grey skin glistening from the light of the sphere and Harry’s wand.
What are you?
Harry stayed at the room’s edge. For whatever reason, the army of somethings had yet to attack him. Instead they stood as one, eyeing him with unseeing eyes. Their hair, raggedy and unkempt, hung down past their shoulders, poorly framing their gaunt, lifeless features.
“Some form of undead . . .” Harry whispered
But I should know the undead. I’ve spent months looking into death, haven’t I?
Yet despite it all, they seemed unfamiliar. Anger built in Harry’s chest, heat pooling beneath his skin. The beings twitched.
Huh.
“You can feel that, can’t you?” Harry snapped irritably, “You don’t like it.”
Jaw clenched, Harry pointed his wand in their direction.
Incendio.
A torrent of fire - far more than Harry had intended - bathed the room in crimson light. He watched, oddly unsatisfied, as the pale forms burnt to ash, horrid shrieking slipping from their dry lips.
“Inferi . . .” Harry frowned. A nervous feeling slipped beneath his skin, “But that - that’s . . .”
Dark Magic. That has to be left over from Grindelwald.
Harry appraised the room with newfound respect, his grasp on his wand tighter.
“Fucking hell,” he whispered, eyeing the sphere from where it hovered, “Really going all out for this one, huh?”
The sphere did nothing more than hum. Jaw clenched, Harry turned away.
I wonder how those Acolytes convinced the French to sign off on all this.
His fingers curled slightly. Harry brushed the ashes out of his path with a gentle wave of his wand, striding through the room and through the archway at the end. More intricate patterns lined the wall of the outside corridor. Harry eyed them carefully, frowning upon seeing the lack of distinct silver and blue that had marked Moody’s memory.
Not near Grindelwald’s stone, then.
The light of the flames behind him finally dimmed into nothingness, bathing the hall in darkness. Grumbling to himself, Harry stalked forward, his wand held aloft.
“Lumos.”
White light sputtered to life. Harry hoisted it up, inspecting the pattern on the walls. They curved ornately, their design somewhat similar to those that lined walls of Moody’s memory -
Not identical, though.
Harry sighed, lowering his wand with disappointment. Thin red words marred the walls. Harry’s eyes bulged as he leaned closer. The words were unmistakably written in blood:
‘He spoke true. One of three.’
“One of three,” Harry grimaced, leaning back, “One of three . . .”
The dried blood had clearly been there for some time. Harry moved to step away, continuing down the corridor after a long moment.
I wonder how long that’s been there.
Certainly for some time, of that Harry had no doubt - but half a century? And if it had anything to do with Grindelwald . . .
Whatever it was, it must’ve been important. Someone clearly wasted their final moments writing it.
“How morbid,” Harry whispered to himself, grimacing, “I want to get out already.”
Not without that stone, though.
He continued trudging through the hall for sometime. Unlike earlier, there were no branching paths to explore. Harry continued to make his way in silence, waiting for ages for any sort of variation.
Fwoosh.
Harry felt a gentle breeze press against him. Squinting through the darkness, he could just barely make out the faint light of an open room at the very end of the hall. Dark magic seemed to emanate from its depths.
Harry sighed, turning to the glimmering sphere.
“Well?” he grimaced, “Think we’ve got a choice?”
The sphere said nothing. Harry nodded irritably.
“Neither did I.”
Shrugging, he strode closer, allowing the thin layers of magic to coat him. Wet and withered, they whispered darkly into his ears, drawing him closer in a sharp, soothing lull.
“Feel that, Spherey?” Harry asked, twitching uncomfortably, “It’s trying to trick us into going in. That’s probably not a good thing . . .”
Harry eyed it carefully, just barely edging closer to the room. It was the biggest Harry had come across, complete with a large circular stage and rising ornate seats surrounding it on all sides.
“Looks like an important room, though,” Harry frowned, “I reckon we need to pass it to get anywhere important.”
With that, he hobbled up toward the opening. A wave of dark magic wooshed past him as he stepped into the room, singing his skin and setting his hairs on end. Fog poured into the room, and Harry suddenly found himself unable to see further than a few feet in front of him.
“My most treasured,” a soothing voice whispered through the mist, “You’re here at last.”
Harry stared. He could just barely make out the form of something shifting in the mist.
“You speak Parseltongue,” he noted, unable to hide his bewilderment, “But you aren’t a snake, are you?”
The figure laughed in the most serpentine way imaginable, its forked tongue flickering back and forth. Harry frowned.
“No, I am not,” it admitted, “Not that it matters. I am, after all, here for you.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. He pointed his wand more forcefully into the mist.
“The Acolytes put you here, didn’t they?”
He watched as a large silver maw peered through the fog. The serpent’s face seemed to be made of liquid metal, its molten eyes glimmering fervently from the light of Harry’s wand. It leered at him, seemingly quite amused.
“Clever boy,” it grinned, “Yes, the Violet One had me created just for you. You must be honored.”
Harry stared up at the great liquid serpent, watching as molten metal slipped from its form. It singed the floor as it fell to the ground.
“Honored isn’t exactly what I’d have gone for,” he frowned.
“No?” the snake laughed richly, “The magnificent construct of the greatest witches and wizards alive, and all for no other purpose than to aid you?”
Harry snorted.
“They can’t have been that great. They had to make you able to shift into a snake so we could talk in private. Not clever enough to enchant you with Parseltongue, were they?”
The snake loomed closer, shifting its form to produce human-like shoulders. Harry watched with bewilderment as it shrugged.
“Why waste effort on complex magics when a simpler, more elegant solution exists? You of all people should know that simplicity is a power in itself.”
Harry nodded slowly. He watched as those cursed shoulders melted away, the metal monstrosity returning to its (somewhat) normal snake form.
“Alright then,” Harry sighed, “I assume you’re going to - wait, what exactly are you going to do?”
If possible, the snake grinned at him.
“There are a number of doors leading out of this room - not that you’ve noticed any,” the metallic figure twisted, “But only one of them will take you to that treasured stone.”
“And that is?”
“No idea,” the serpent hissed, “But I’m told the path will be revealed once you’ve bested me.”
Harry grinned.
“Once I’ve bested you?” he laughed, “You know, for a creation of the Acolytes, you’re not as arrogant as I’d have thought.”
Once again, the strange serpent shrugged. Harry winced as the human shoulders returned.
“I’m assuming Gabby and Krum haven’t been past here yet, have they? You might not be here otherwise.”
“Oh, the blonde and the bald?” the snake guffawed, “They couldn’t have bested me if they tried. At least the bald one was smart enough to figure that out.”
Harry froze.
“What?”
“Smart, that one,” the molten serpent nodded, “Dashed right through the leftmost door after fighting me for ten seconds. That’s not the one with the stone, so you know -”
“What about the girl?” Harry interrupted abruptly, “What happened to her?”
The snake somehow yawned.
“Put up a good fight, your little puppet did,” the serpent admired. Harry glared at it, “But she simply wasn’t a match. If it weren’t for that miserable feather, she’d be lying comatose on this very floor.”
The snake motioned to the left, its silver maw pushing the mist out of the way. A thick pool of blood blanketed the stone floor.
Gabby.
“That was a bad choice,” Harry whispered, his eyes fixed on the shimmering blood. Heat pooled in his chest, “The last bad choice you’ll ever make.”
“Oh? Is that so, Harry Pot -”
BANG!
Magic spun through the room, sending debris soaring through the mist. Harry watched blankly as the molten snake lost its form, the liquid metal spiralling into some sort of abstract shape. It reformed just before it hit the wall, staring at him with glistening eyes.
“Fascinat -”
“Quiet,” Harry bristled. His eyes were now glowing a sickly green, “Glacius.”
Ice blanketed much of the room. Harry watched as the snake drew closer, scoffing furiously. It seemed rather offended.
“I was made by the Violet One herself,” it spat indignantly, “The magics of lesser men could never harm me.”
Harry snorted.
“And there's the arrogance,” he laughed harshly, “Perhaps you are the Acolytes’ work after all . . .”
He watched dispassionately as the monster sized him up, rearing its fangs. The heat in his chest twisted into an unforgiving cold.
Freeze him still.
The mist around them froze solid, falling to the floor and shattering into an endless count of pieces. Harry ignored it, instead eyeing the snake. It was struggling to move, its metallic body frozen in a rather peculiar position.
“Not so confident now, are you?” he grinned, “Or did you think I was stupid enough to use normal spells on you?”
I imagine it would’ve soared right through him.
The metal serpent shrieked furiously.
“You haven’t bested me yet, dove,” the creature hissed, “How will you know where to go?”
Harry grinned.
“I think I can find a way.”
His wand spiralled through the air, stopping just before the widened slits of the silver serpent.
“Bombarda Maxima!”
BANG!
Metal shards tore through the room. Harry shielded his face, wincing as a thin sheet cut a thin line across his cheek.
“Fucking hell,” he grimaced. A few drops of blood dropped to the floor below, “And that’s with the feather’s luck too . . .”
Harry wiped the thick red droplets away with the back of his hand, straightening up.
“Now which way to go . . .”
He inspected the floor carefully. The metal shards that littered the floor seemed to be melting at the slowest of paces.
I definitely didn’t beat it. It’ll probably reform after the room warms up and the metal turns to liquid again.
“Not that I really care,” Harry sighed, “I just need to know where to go . . .”
He eyed the many archways that stood opposite him. Each was identical in appearance, from the stone that lined their frames down to the endless darkness that sat within.
Do I just flip a coin?
Harry sighed, glancing at the metal shards again. They didn’t seem particularly helpful.
Definitely didn’t beat it, then.
“Well?” Harry asked, turning to the sphere that hovered above his shoulder, “What do you -”
He trailed off, staring at the magical device. A large sheet of metal was lodged within it, and though it still hovered, its lustrous gleam was gone.
“Not even humming anymore,” Harry muttered half-appreciatively, “But I wonder . . .”
He reached a hand out, closing his eyes. The familiar thrum of magic washed over him, ensnaring his senses.
Levitation . . . but I don’t know -
“I really ought to practice magical sensory more often,” Harry sputtered, gritting his teeth. His concentration broke at once.
Click.
The sphere whirled through the air, stopping just before one of the archways. Harry frowned at it.
“Are you still recording?”
If that lucky feather did anything at all, it shouldn’t be.
Harry frowned.
It’d probably be best to destroy it, just in case.
“Percutiens!”
The silver magic careened into the sphere before bouncing off it. Harry just barely managed to dive out of its path.
“Fucking hell,” he panted, pushing himself to his feet, “They really made you well, huh?”
The only magics that might take it out are the ones I probably shouldn’t know.
Harry groaned at the realization. He leveled a rather irritated glare at the culprit, who continued to hover cheerfully by one of the middle archways.
“Fine,” Harry spat, straightening up, “I guess you and I are sticking together for a little longer.”
The sphere spun excitably as he lumbered closer, yanking out the sheet of metal with a lazy wave of his wand. Together they stopped to stare down the archway’s depths. Harry eyed the metal ball.
“Well?”
It feels right. I can’t explain why, but it does.
Harry sighed.
“Lumos,” he muttered, holding his wand aloft, “C’mon . . .”
Darkness enveloped them once more. Harry tried his very best to make out the patterns on the walls as they continued onwards. No silvers or blues jumped at him, and he quickly gave up.
“You know,” Harry whispered after quite some time, “I really feel like I should’ve encountered a few more obstacles by now . . .”
Tempus.
Ghostly numbers flickered before him. If they were to be trusted, the second task had started some twenty minutes ago.
“Just the Inferi and the stupid snake,” Harry frowned, “I really feel like they’re just toying with me -”
WHAM!
Searing lights stabbed at his eyes. Harry groaned furiously, hands clutching his face as he ducked over. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his wand.
“Scurolumin!”
The blinding lights dimmed by the slightest of margins. Harry hastily pulled his hands from his eyes.
What the -
It was a fire. Hot and roiling, the brilliant indigo flames rose higher than Harry was tall. Their glistening tongues licked the silver ceilings.
“Silver,” Harry whispered. His heartbeat quickened, “Silver -”
He took a small step closer to the flames, squinting with all his might. The faintest of blue accents made themselves visible, subtly painted along the ceilings that sat overhead.
I’m close.
Harry smothered his excitement, returning his focus to the flames that blocked his path. They were unlike any he had ever seen, including Fiendfyre. Not an ounce of hatred poured from their unseen pores.
“Devotion,” Harry murmured softly. He stared at the flames in confusion, “You reek of it. But I don’t understand -”
Is this a test?
He flexed his fingers experimentally, inching closer to the flames. To his slight surprise (and bewilderment), the flames grew colder.
“I really don’t understand . . .”
I must’ve come across it somewhere. In Emily’s notebook, or the library, or even in the Chamber of Secrets.
But if he had, his memory seemed to be awfully cross with him. Resigned, Harry took another step closer.
Nothing.
“You feel conditional,” he mumbled after a long moment. The magic of the flames continued to wash over him, “You’ll kill me if I don’t meet your expectations, won’t you?”
The flames, rather unsurprisingly, said nothing. Harry leaned closer.
But they want me to get the stone. They need me to.
Indigo heat licked at his sweaty palms. Harry didn’t feel a thing, not even as the flames wrapped themselves around his waist. Within seconds he was through, the brilliant flames now sitting behind him.
Harry glanced back at the fire, slowly turning to the floating sphere. It too had emerged unscathed.
“Weird, huh?” Harry frowned, “Maybe the Violet One conjured that too . . .”
Shrugging, he turned back around. A familiar chamber was all that sat before, filled with mounds of ash and debris. Harry felt his heart lurch.
Accio stone.
Nothing happened. Harry’s jaw clenched.
Point me stone.
Harry’s wand spun to the left. He hurriedly tossed the slabs of marble aside, peering excitedly through the darkness.
“Come on, where are you -”
A blue gleam caught his eye, and the breath left Harry’s chest.
-(xXx)-
“- another disaster for France, unsurprisingly,” Ludo Bagman was saying. He didn’t seemed particularly upset about it, “I swear the attack on their ministry was short of a moon ago -”
“Quiet, Ludo,” a curt voice snapped. Harry glanced up, watching as the no-nonsense Barty Crouch stalked towards them, “Your personal opinions have no place here.”
The older man eyed Ludo irritably for a long moment before turning to Harry.
“You’ve been checked up, have you, Mr. Potter?”
Harry nodded dully, motioning to the number of mediwitches that surrounded him. They’d been fussing over him for some ten minutes now, much to his chagrin - more than a few times they’d come close to discovering the unusually inorganic qualities of his left hand.
The last thing I need is to explain that to everyone.
“Then there might be truth to our announcement that you’re perfectly in order,” Crouch nodded, “Of course, Albus assured me you’d be alright . . .”
“I can take care of myself,” Harry supplied earnestly. Both Crouch and Bagman presented him with thinly-lipped smiles.
“Thank Merlin for that, Mr. Potter,” the latter nodded once more before stepping away. Harry frowned, turning his gaze to Bagman.
“What are you telling the public?” he asked curiously.
“Oh, the truth of course,” Bagman grinned, “Someone interfered with the task. That door wasn’t supposed to be there, after all -”
“Which door? The one behind the metal snake?”
But there were a bunch of doors . . .
Ludo Bagman nodded.
“And of course that’s all made worse by the snake taking out your Looking Glass,” he sighed, “Really unlucky, that.”
“Yeah,” Harry snorted, “Lucky feather must’ve not been so lucky after all.”
Bagman frowned at that.
“Well, either way, you’re safe,” he said eventually, straightening up, “That’s all that really matters.”
“The tournament’s important, too,” Harry noted. He jumped as one of the mediwitches jabbed at his arm, glaring at her, “And I didn’t even finish the task.”
Which is weird, considering I still tried. That feather must’ve really wanted me to do poorly.
Bagman nodded, wearing a painful expression that could only mean that he’d been gambling again.
Serves you right.
“Well, there’s that, I suppose,” he grimaced, “Of course, you didn’t score poorly, all things considered -”
“In what world is a thirty-two not a bad score?”
“Well, put it this way,” Bagman tried to sound positive, but it was half-hearted at best, “Your scores only determine the order in which you start the third task. That should hardly be a hindrance for you.”
Harry mulled that over for a moment.
That’s actually not a bad point.
“Out of the way, out of the way!”
Harry and Bagman both spun around, watching as a glistening silver-haired someone tore through the medical tent. Gabrielle stopped the moment she saw him, panting heavily. Her eyes were wet.
Bagman patted him gently on the shoulder, winking, “I’ll give you two some privacy, eh?”
And he left. Harry paid him no mind, his attention fixed only on the girl who hurried towards him. Within seconds she was less than an inch away from him, glaring at the mediwitches who tried to stop her.
“I’m fine, I told you,” Harry told the Mediwitches irritably, “Honestly -”
He stopped as Gabrielle brushed the witches off, staring at them.
“You heard him,” she told them carefully, “He’s fine.”
The Mediwitches nodded hurriedly, scampering off. Harry stared after them.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Perks of being the Minister’s daughter,” Gabrielle whispered. She paused for a moment, staring at him, “Hi.”
“Hi,” Harry smiled back, “I heard you got first place.”
“I heard someone interfered with your task,” she murmured, leaning closer, “Did you - did you know?”
“Kind of,” Harry admitted, “Didn’t know they would, but they did it to make sure that I’d find what I was looking for.”
Gabrielle paused.
“And did you?”
Harry stared at her for a long moment. His fingers wrapped around hers, and he dragged them closer, placing them atop the pocket of his robes. The silky outline of a diamond-shaped stone pressed against their palms.
“I did.”
Comments
gigamans
Task was kind of interesting, but I don't really understand the point of him even being involved if he doesn't care if he does well or not. He lost, again?.. And some more bullshit will probably occur in the third. I don't really get the point of his involvement if the tournament isn't really relevant in and of itself. Also him losing to Gabrielle again kind of takes away from this idea that he's supposed to be this like, super-wizard or something. Even if again, it seems like he doesn't care if he does well in the tasks. He still comes across poorly to literally everyone watching?
521-DREAM
They went the exact opposite - hence the break in writing - but thanks!
tqco
Hope exams went well! Thanks for the update - looking forward to future ones!
