Chapter 104 - The Philosopher's Stone
I walked toward the mirror as my Patronus clearly wanted something from it. The sound of my footsteps was echoing softly in the chamber. In no time at all, I was standing directly in front of it.
I looked at it and my own reflection stared back at me. This was the second time I had found myself before the Mirror of Erised, the Mirror which showed a person's deepest Desire.
The first time I had looked into it, I had seen a massive, happy family. My girls were there, smiling along with my mum, dad, Harry and Dudley and even Aunt Marge and her dog. Everyone was gathered together in one place. It was the ultimate picture of a perfect, joyful family.
But it wasn't just them. There were also faces of my family from my previous life. It was a beautiful, overwhelming sight for me, but let's not dwell on that right now.
Now, as I stood before it again, something has definitely changed. The mirror didn't tempt me anymore. Its magical pull already felt weak and almost non-existent back then. But now, it was not even that.
Maybe it was because I had grown so much over the last six months. Or maybe it was because of the powerful Patronus standing right beside me, radiating warmth and light.
Whatever the reason, the mirror had absolutely no effect on me this time. I was completely clear-headed and no image was showing in it except the normal reflection of a common mirror.
My mind immediately shifted to the real problem on hand which was to get the Philosopher's Stone out of the mirror. I tried to recall how the story went.
In the original story I knew, Harry had managed to get the Stone without really doing anything at all. He had just stood there, completely pure of heart, thinking about protecting it from Voldemort.
Or that was Dumbledore had told him, the whole "chicken soup for the soul" kind of things that Dumbledore loved to feed him. Whether it was true or not, only Dumbledore can answer it.
But still, that trick wasn't going to work for me. Even if I forced myself to think about protecting the Stone, the mirror wasn't responding to my desires because its magic did not affect me now.
Still, I figured I had to give it a try. If any peaceful method failed, my absolute last resort would be to physically shatter the mirror. I didn't really want to do that. It was a cool, historic piece of Hogwarts' property, after all.
But if it came down to it, I didn't care enough about the artifact as my Patronus wanted to do something about the stone. I would have no other chance to get it by asking Dumbledore or Nicolas Flamel. So this was the only chance to get it and I had to get it fast, before other professors or Dumbledore could come.
And my intuition and resonance with the nature was telling me that it was very important to get my hands on the stone.
Before resorting to violence, I decided to try a direct, physical approach. I raised my hand, reaching out toward the smooth surface of the glass. I expected my fingers to smack against a cold, solid pane. But right as I thought I was about to touch it, my hand kept going. My fingers slipped right through the surface.
It didn't feel like glass at all. Instead it felt like a heavy, shifting veil. It instantly reminded me of the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters back at King's Cross Station.
The situation was slightly different though. I couldn't walk my entire body through this one. Only my fingers, then my palm and finally my wrist managed to slip inside the hidden space. The magic stopped me right at the forearm. No matter how hard I pushed, my hand couldn't go any deeper.
I moved my trapped hand through the small, unseen pocket of space inside the mirror and my fingers instantly brushed against something solid. I grasped it firmly and yanked my hand back out into the room.
There it was, sitting right in the center of my palm, the fabled Philosopher's Stone.
Up close, the Stone looked like an uneven, jagged shard of glass, or perhaps a raw, uncut ruby. It was a deep, dark red colour that seemed to glow. The light wasn't just reflecting off its surface. It genuinely felt like a brilliant fire was burning from deep within.
But the very second I pulled it into the open air, a wave of unease washed over me. I had a faint, immediate feeling that something about this object was deeply wrong. It felt evil. It didn't feel pure or sacred at all.
I could feel the tremendous, thrumming magical power vibrating inside it, but wrapped tightly around that magic was something else which seemed to have a dark, corrupting presence that put me off completely.
As I stood there examining the dark red crystal, a rustling sound broke the silence of the chamber. The three children hiding in the corner could no longer contain themselves. They had already witnessed far too much wonder and terror for one evening.
First, they had found Professor Quirrell as the thief here. Then, Voldemort had revealed himself, from inside Quirrell. A brutal fight had broken out subsequently, and then my Patronus had appeared for the second time before them. They had watched that Patronus make absolute short work of Voldemort and Quirrell.
The kids had been forced to watch a terrifying, hard-to-describe scene where souls were literally being ripped and pulled out of that two in one body. Voldemort's spirit was the one that managed to break free and flee the room, terrified. Meanwhile, our poor old Quirrell's soul had been entirely overwhelmed and digested by my Patronus.
By the time the fight settled, even Quirrell's physical body was not left behind. There were just a few handfuls of dark ash scattered across the stone floor.
Miraculously, despite all the fighting, the deadly spells being thrown around and the raw magical energy blasting through the room, that purple turban had survived. It was a little dusty and covered in a fine layer of stone grit, but otherwise, it wasn't damaged at all.
Seeing me thrust my hand directly into a solid mirror and pull out a glowing red stone was the final straw of amazement for the kids. They looked at each other, silently agreeing that the immediate danger had passed. So throwing off the Invisibility Cloak, they hurried toward me across the chamber.
"Arthur, what is this?" Harry asked, with his face showing amazement at the stone.
"That was wicked!" Ron burst out, his eyes wide with a mix of terror and awe.
"That was dangerous!" Hermione corrected him instantly, her voice high with anxiety. "It was not wicked, Ron, it was incredibly dangerous!"
Ron ignored her, staring at the ash on the floor. "Was it really... him? Was that really... the you-know-who?"
Hermione chimed in right after, her brain clearly working overtime to process the mystery. "But how could it be Professor Quirrell the whole time? It doesn't make any sense!"
I turned around to face them, holding the magic laden Stone in my hand, ready to explain exactly what had just happened.
But it seemed that my Patronus was out of patience. He nudged me slightly on the arm.
I looked at it and I understood that it wanted the stone.
I offered the stone to him and he motioned towards the ground. So, I put the stone on the ground in front of him. I was curious about it wanted to do with the stone.
The Patronus looked at the stone for a moment and then raised its head again and a powerful and loud neighing filled the chamber. In the next moment, silver-white flames shot out of his mouth and engulfed the stone.
The children let out a gasp and they along with me were all surprised by his actions. I had not imagined that the Patronus wanted the stone only to ultimately destroy it.
Meanwhile, the stone took some time to burn unlike Quirrell's body which had turned to ash in seconds.
While the stone was burning, there was flash of fire in the chamber. Then a resonant voice of bird echoed in the chamber.
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End of Chapter 104 - The Philosopher's Stone