{AN: This is a double chapter, explaining the break point of chapter 15.}
Sweeping Neville under the cloak, Ron rushed to the empty classroom that had held the mirror. Once he was sure they were alone, he revealed his plan.
"Neville, I'm going to go to the Third-Floor corridor to get the stone. Now, before Snape can beat us to it."
Neville gasped. "You can't! It's against the rules. Plus, you'll be ripped to shreds by that three-headed dog."
"Don't worry about it, I'm ready for everything we could face. But I need your help Neville."
"M-me? What can I do? I always fumble everything." He blubbered. "I even overslept and couldn't help Harry and Hermione with the dragon."
"Don't say that. Didn't Hagrid say Professor Sprout came up with a challenge? You're the best Herbologist I know."
Neville blushed, shaking his head furiously. But he still looked unsure.
"Sh-shouldn't we wait for Harry and Hermione though? We'd stand a much better chance together. Plus, as long as Dumbledore's here, Snape doesn't stand a chance."
"I'd love to wait Neville… but there's something I ought to show you." Ron said darkly. Then, he set out the Marauder's Map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Neville watched with awe as the Marauder's Map manifested itself, fit with every room, corridor and being in Hogwarts.
"Is this… a map of Hogwarts? With everyone on it? Wicked! You've got to make me one, I'll never get lost again!"
Ron sighed, only Neville could see a map like this and think to use it for directions.
"Neville focus! You see us, over here?"
Neville nodded.
"And there are Harry and Hermione, headed down to the forest with Filch."
He nodded again.
"Do you see who's headed with them?" He asked.
Neville's eyes darted around, until they landed on Dumbledore. They narrowed into slits.
"D-dumbledore's gone out?"
Ron nodded. "He must be following Harry and Hermione, trying to make sure they're safe. And look who's already on the Third Floor."
Neville's breath hitched as he saw Snape.
"Dear Merlin… we're doomed!" He muttered. "Just imagine what Snape would do with immortality… I'll be in detention for eternity!"
"That's why we've got to go tonight. Otherwise, it'll be too late."
"B-but how're we going to beat Snape? He's a grown wizard, and we're just students." Neville stuttered.
"Don't worry about Snape, I've arranged something to waylay him. But we've got to go now. Can I count on you Neville?"
Neville went pale as a ghost, shuddering as his eyes darted around on the Map, from Snape to Dumbledors, then up to Ron. A slight firmness developed in his gaze.
"Y-yes."
Under the cloak, Neville and Ron stealthily approached the Third-Floor Corridor, not even daring breathe too loud for fear of being exposed. Neville let out a soft gasp as Snape finally came into view and Ron glared at him.
'Sorry.' He mouthed.
Turning back to Snape, Ron didn't dare approach closer, knowing the cloak wasn't infallible. Instead, he took out the Map, still active, waiting for his distraction to arrive.
'Come on…' He thought, eyes focused on the name of Peeves the Poltergeist, only two halls away.
It started soon after. From right behind Peeves, through a wall, the 'Bloody Baron' emerged. Ron grinned, seeing that the ghost had honoured his bargain. Even before he saw it, he could hear it.
"I'M SORRY YOUR BLOODINESS! I'M SORRY!"
Peeves's shrieking voice echoed through the corridors, awakening every portrait on the floor, and setting Snape on alert. But before the hawkish Potions Master could turn around, he was bowled over by a little man with an orange bowtie and bell-covered cap, soaring through the halls.
"Peeves!" Snape leapt to his feet, rushing after the poltergeist.
"Now." Ron hissed under his breath.
Neville didn't need telling twice, rushing out with Ron as they dashed over to the Third-Floor corridor. A quickly whispered 'Alohamora' saw the door opened and the duo dashed through, closing it just before Snape's gaze snapped back. They were in.
Ron could feel Neville's sigh against the back of his neck. But they weren't nearly in the clear yet.
A soft growling harkened them to their next barrier. The giant, jet-black, three-headed dog before them. Ron could feel Neville stiffening behind him.
"Uhh… R-ron… didn't you say th-the spray w-would m-mask our scent?"
"It can still hear us." Ron explained.
As if acknowledging this, Fluffy's growls intensified. Neville went pale as a ghost, shutting his eyes tightly. But just as the dog reared back its head to attack, Ron flicked his wand against his scarab amulet. Seconds later, the rhythmic croaking of Frog Symphony No. 3 sounded out.
For a moment, the world seemed to freeze.
"Are we dead?" Neville asked.
"No."
The shuddering blond boy then cautiously opened his eyes. Only to see all three of Fluffy's heads snoring loudly, rocking rhythmically to the symphonic melody. His jaw dropped.
"Well, come on then, we've only got two minutes before the recording ends." Ron hissed.
Neville snapped back to attention, hurriedly rushing forward behind Ron as they approached the trapdoor. Fluffy's massive paw was partially overtop it, but they were just barely able to push it off, before opening it up.
Through the trapdoor, it looked like there was nothing but an infinite abyss. Neville gulped.
"A-are you sure about this?"
Before Ron could respond, the recording begun fading and Fluffy began stirring. The next second, Neville rushed forward, diving through the trapdoor into the darkness. Down there, death might be possible, or even probable, but up here, death was certain.
Ron followed a moment later, but he had come prepared. Reaching into the expanded pouch at his hip, he yanked out a broom, straddling it in mid-air. Then, he shot towards the free-falling Neville, seizing him by the scruff of his robes
With Neville secure, he put all his might into braking, not wanting to become a smear on the Devil's Snare below. Fortunately, his Green LV6 Broom Flying was not for show, and he managed a last-second brake. Then, they stood suspended over the ground, his heart hammering in his chest.
That must have been a fifty-story drop! How had the original trio survived that? Devil's Snare had some impact absorption effects, but there were limits. At an altitude like that, even a stack of feathers would hit like a brick of wall.
"Bloody plot armour."
"What's that?" Neville asked, his own heart thumping hard enough Ron could feel it on his back.
"Nothing."
"Well… err, thanks for that. N-now can you let me down? I don't like flying." He moved to dismount, but Ron held him tight.
"Erm, Neville, can't you see what's under us?"
It was only then that Neville noticed the massive web of sentient vines beneath them. His face drained of colour.
"On second thought, flying's alright."
They hovered for a while before Neville regained his bearings.
"Alright, now it's your time to shine. D'you know what plant that is?"
Of course, Ron knew the answer, but it was important for Neville to contribute. Looking down, it didn't take more than a moment for him to identify it.
"It's Amazonian Devil's Snare… well-grown, 10, maybe 12, years old. Professor Sprout's got one just like it! She was telling me how she got it from a colleague in Brazil…"
"Neville, focus! How do we get past it?"
"Erm, it doesn't like sunlight. Maybe we can open a window."
Ron resisted the urge to smack his forehead.
"Neville, we're fifty stories underground and its midnight."
"Oh, yeah…" Neville went crimson. "Well, how about fire?"
"Will Bluebell Flames work?"
Neville shook his head. "Not on their own. You'd need a stronger fire to burn through Devil's Snare."
Ron clicked his tongue. Yet another instance of plot armour for the trio, but it made sense. How could a first-year spell defeat a certified wizard-killing plant? Fortunately, he was prepared.
"What about with some accelerant?" Ron asked, retrieving a large vial of dragon saliva.
"It should be enough."
Pouring half the vial onto a section of Devil's Snare, Ron levelled his wand at it.
"W-wait! Can we take a cutting first?" Neville asked expectantly.
Ron glared at him, making Neville fall silent.
"Together, then?"
Neville nodded.
"Enflagrati Caerulus!"
Two jets of flames met to ignite a massive blue bonfire. The Snare writhed in a frenzy, forcing Ron to ascend to avoid its tendrils. A small hole begun opening in the vines, but the flames were quickly dying.
"Not yet…"
The hole soon grew to a half-meter diameter. Three-quarters. Four-fifths. Then, just as the last sparks fizzled out, it reached a meter.
"Now!"
He zoomed towards the shrinking hole, jets of blue flame launching, as Neville fended off hostile tendrils. But all Ron's focus was on threading the needle. And they did, shooting through before crashing into the passageway below.
For a minute, the duo caught their breaths, as the Snare above mended, as if never burned.
"That was close…" Neville sighed, wiping his forehead. "Hang on… do you smell something burning."
"Your robes are on fire."
"WHAT!?"
Neville's eyes jumped to his wrist, blue flames dancing on the cuff of his robes. They were hardly dangerous, though that didn't stop the boy from stopping, dropping and rolling, before Ron finally stomped them out.
"Th-thanks! You saved my life!"
"Focus Neville, this is serious!" Ron hissed, brow furrowed.
It was clear his experience would be very different from the trio's. Ron was certain his fire was stronger than Hermione's, yet they barely slipped through.
Through the corridor, hundreds of iron keys zipped in the air like hummingbirds. It took a minute until he spotted the silver one, clearly the fastest of the bunch.
There were no broomsticks laid out for him. Yet another act of God, or should he say act of Dumbledore.
"I think the door's locked." Neville grunted. "Can you come over here and do that Alomomola charm?"
"I don't think that will work." Ron pointed up.
It was only then that Neville noticed the small army of key-birds zipping around above their heads.
"Dear Merlin… have we got to try all of them to find the right one?" Neville said incredulously.
"No… but it will take a little luck." Ron mounted his broom.
Zooming around the ceiling, he searched for the unique silver key-bird fervently, fighting off iron ones along the way. Neville tried to help, though his eyes could hardly follow Ron, let alone the keys. Zipping after the many keys, he gritted his teeth. It was too damn hard!
Turning to his panel, Ron resolutely put nearly 400 points into flying, sending it up to Green LV8. Still, it wasn't enough. Finally, he resorted to his backup plan.
"Septentrio Meridiem!"
Two lights emitted from his wand, bright blue from the tip and deep red from the bottom. A powerful magnetic force rippled out, attracting dozens of iron keys into a lump. The lump of keys plummeted to the floor, cutting into the flock's numbers.
This was the magnetism charm, learned from the book Ron got from Arthur. While it wouldn't attract the silver key, it worked on the iron keys, allowing him to cut their numbers considerably.
Casting six more charms, Ron cut the flock reduced to a quarter of its initial size, allowing him to clearly see the silver one. He wanted to keep going, but he saw the first lump already beginning to break up. It was now or never.
Shooting forward, he lunged for the silver key, seized it, rushed to the door at full speed and finally slotted in the key. The lock clicked and the door swung open.
Before them lay a massive life-size chessboard, fitted with chessmen that would dwarf even Hagrid. Ron grinned. This was the challenge he'd been waiting for.
Staring up at the towering black chessmen, he pondered how to proceed. Playing as black put him at a disadvantage, since he needed to win, not just draw. So, what defence should he play?
"Neville, you take the H pawn, I'll take the King's place." Ron directed.
What idiot would choose to be a knight, the most often sacrificed piece in chess? The king was objectively the best choice, since even in checkmate, the king was never taken. Similarly, flank pawns were often spared. Neville didn't question it, taking his position as Ron took his own.
The game begun with D4, a Queen's pawn opening. Ron decided to play a King's Indian, an opening from Hermione's book. As a hypermodern opening, it was likely to trip up the classical McGonagall.
Playing NF6, McGonagall's pieces paused before playing C4. Ron followed up with G6, then BG7 the next turn finishing his preparation. The first trade only came on move 10, knight for knight. Seeing the black knight shattered into dregs, he shuddered slightly. There was no room for mistakes.
The game continued rapidly from there, relatively even, until move 35 where Ron seized an advantage. Trades progressed rapidly, leaving him up a knight and a bishop to two pawns. There, white made its last and fatal blunder, compromising its queen to a fork by his knight. Eleven moves later, the king fell.
"Brilliant!" Neville cried, before his face fell. "Just wish I could have done something…"
He hadn't moved one square since the game begun, still on H7. Even Ron had moved, castling king-side, then sliding into H8; not to mention conducting the whole game.
"After we're done here, I'll teach you." Ron promised.
Then the duo went silent, donning the cloak before continuing through the next door
They were assaulted by a foul, yet familiar stench, as they entered a torch-lit room. There stood an immense, grey-skinned mountain troll, an immense spiked mace in hand and full dragon-leather armour. Neville seized up behind him as the troll rounded on them.
"Grug?"
The troll was confused, having clearly heard someone make entry, but seeing nothing. It slowly lumbered over for a closer look, its every step shaking the ground. Under the cloak, the duo stealthily shuffled aside to avoid being stepped on.
The troll was only inches away from them now, suspicion painted on its big dumb face. But before it could investigate further, Ron acted.
"Wingardium Leviosa." He whispered, pointing at a plate the size of a manhole cover on a nearby table.
Despite his attempts to hide it, the troll seemed to hear him, but as it looked down, the plate shot out like a discus, crashing against his head.
"Gaaargh!"
The troll whipped around; mace raised high searching for an opponent. But none was there.
A giant trident-sized fork zoomed off the table next, avoiding the trolls swing before jabbing into its neck. It barely pierced the troll's thick hide, but it was still enraged, swinging blindly with its mace to no avail. More objects went flying after that: plates, utensils, chairs, even a torch that charred the troll's snot-covered face.
"GRAAAAGH!" The troll roared as it slammed its mace into the ground.
The stone floor cracked, lodging the mace inside of it. Neville behind him could no longer take it, fainting and slipping out from the cloak's cover. This finally exposed their position as the troll rounded on them. Then it heaved and it grunted trying to free its mace to tenderize the two ants that had irritated it.
"Here, let me help you with that." Ron whispered under the cloak. "Wingardium Leviosa."
With one last charm, the mace was yanked free, but as the troll grinned dumbly, the mace kept going before slamming clean into its face. The room fell silent. Then the troll's grip slackened on the mace, which fell to the ground. A moment later, he followed, collapsing with his skull caved in by his own weapon.
"Ron two, trolls zero."
Then, he knelt over by Neville's side, coaxing him back to consciousness.
"R-ron? What're you doing here? I had this horrible nightmare. There was Snape, a three-headed dog and even a t-t-troll!"
Neville nearly fainted again upon the sight of the unconscious troll. But Ron pinched him awake. They advanced into the next room, two fires bursting to life, black flames in front and purple behind. Before them was a table, with a piece of parchment and seven vials laid out. This was the penultimate challenge: Snape's riddle.
Reading through the riddle, Ron struggled to reason through it. He turned to Neville beside him, but the terrified boy just kept muttering the word 'poison'. Clearly, he would be of little help.
Fortunately, while riddles weren't his strong suit, he already knew which one would let them through. Taking up the smallest vial, there was exactly two doses inside of it. One for Quirrel, another for Harry. Dumbledore's machinations were genius, engineering a perfect one-on-one encounter. But they also helped Ron.
"Are you sure that's the right one?" Neville questioned fearfully. "W-what if its poison?"
"Don't worry, it's definitely not poison." Ron reassured. "Says it right here, doesn't it? Neither dwarf nor giant holds death inside."
Neville still seemed uncertain, but Ron quickly took a swig, leaving half the vial behind. Neville paled, half-expecting him to drop dead right there. But nothing happened. He shakily took the vial and swallowed the rest.
Then the duo stepped through the black flames, into a small, circular chamber, surrounded by tall pillars and near-empty save for a majestic mirror.
"That's the Mirror of Erised!" Neville cried, much to Ron's surprise. "Harry took me and Hermione to see it once. Back during the Christmas holidays. But Dumbledore took it away…"
Neville then rushed past him, staring into the mirror longingly. Ron could easily imagine what he saw on the other side.
Even compared to Harry, Neville's story was more tragic. At least Harry could comfort in his parents dying quick, painless deaths. Neville would have no such solace.
If only he could one day save his parents…
"So… how d'you reckon this works then?" Neville sniffled, having his fill of the mirror.
"Dunno…" Ron lied. "There're no more doors, so I reckon the stone's got to be in this room somehow."
Neville frowned, looking around the room for any hidden compartments. But there was nothing.
"It's gotta be linked to the Mirror." Ron prodded. "Maybe it'll show us where it is, but it's got to be someone who only wants to protect the stone. Someone like you, Neville."
Indeed, this was the stone's ultimate protection. Only someone who wanted the stone, only to protect it and not to use it, would be able to bypass the Mirror. Ron was not such a virtuous person. But Neville on the other hand…
"Me?" Neville backed away at once, not daring to look at the mirror. "Y-you've got the wrong person. I c-can't even protect myself, let alone something else. Why don't you do it?"
"I'm trying… but it isn't working. Maybe the Mirror is enchanted not to work for Slytherins."
Neville seemed to accept this, but he kept shaking his head.
"M-maybe we should wait for Harry. Or Hermione."
"No, it's got to be you, Neville. Now, before Snape comes and steals it!"
Neville didn't respond, trembling like a leaf as he stared at the ground. But as Ron was about to prod further, he slowly raised his gaze to look into the Mirror. Then, his eyes widened.
"I-I'm doing it! I've got the stone!" He cried. "N-now… I'm putting it in my pocket!"
Reaching into his pocket, Neville took out a small, red ruby incredulously, his hands were shaking so hard, he almost dropped it. Ron's gaze focused hungrily on the stone. That was it, the key to endless wealth and thus, endless power. But he didn't lose composure, watching as Neville pocketed the stone carefully.
"What now?"
"Now? Now we get out of here!"
The duo then went under the cloak as they headed back to the Potion room. There, Ron read the riddle once more, before taking the vial left of the largest one and pouring it into the empty smallest one.
"What're you doing?" Neville questioned.
"Planting a little trap for Snape." Ron said with a grin. "When he comes through, he'll drink from this one, thinking it's the solution, but it's actually poison!"
"Brilliant!" Neville's eyes lit up, but then he frowned. "B-but what if Snape hasn't got the antidote? Won't he be hurt?"
Only Neville could show concern for the man who'd ruthlessly bullied him all year.
"Don't worry, it's his challenge, right? He'll definitely have the antidote."
Neville sighed in relief. But little did he know, Ron intended this for Quirrell, who wouldn't have the antidote. He could only imagine Voldemort's expression when he solved the riddle only to be poisoned. Alas, he wouldn't be able to see it.
Drinking from the right-most vial, they passed through the purple flame, rushing past the groggily rousing troll. Then they crossed the chessboard, through the key-room and finally to the Devil's Snare. But once they arrived, Ron stopped, pulling out the Marauder's Map. Sure enough, Snape was still there, patrolling the halls.
"Oh Merlin… how are we going to get past him?" Neville muttered. "You haven't got a way to contact Peeves again, have you?"
"No… but we don't need him." Ron responded, gesturing to another name approaching. It was Dumbledore.
After all the time spent on the trials, Harry and Hermione's detention was now over. Therefore, Dumbledore had returned, and as Ron expected, he took Snape away, no doubt to inform him of what happened. Perfect.
With the remaining dragon saliva, they burnt through the Devil's Snare, up through the trapdoor and one symphony later they were out the door. But they didn't lower their guard yet, rushing back to the empty classroom, panting and heaving.
"We did it." Neville whispered. "Snape's been trying for months, but we did it first. Well, you did anyways. I barely did anything."
"Don't sell yourself short, I couldn't have done it without you."
It was true. Sure, he could have done the other challenges, but without Neville to beat the Mirror, it was meaningless.
"So… what do we now?" Neville asked. "Do we give the stone to Dumbledore?"
"Not right now, Snape's still in his office." Ron pointed at the Map. "I'll take it for tonight since I've got my own room, then, tomorrow morning, we'll give it to Dumbledore."
"No, it should be me." Neville refused. "If Snape figures it out, he'll be able to get into your Common Room, but not mine."
Seeing the firmness in Neville's eyes, Ron sighed. He'd worried about this.
"Alright, but put it in my pouch, it's got anti-thieving charms." He insisted.
Neville nodded, putting the stone inside the pouch. As he did, Ron's finger brushed up against it. There, he saw it manifested on his panel.
[Philosopher's Stone (Gold) LV2 665/4000000]
His breath hitched. That was it, that was the last thing he needed. To be absolutely certain the Stone was real. Just as Neville was about to leave, Ron stopped him.
"Wait, Neville, there's one more thing…"
"What…" Neville turned to face him.
"Obliviate."
Ron swiped the pouch from his as his eyes glossed over. Moments later, Neville's focus returned, but gone was his firm gaze, replaced by a curious one.
"So… what did you bring me here for?" He asked.
"Oh… I found Harry's cloak the other day in the Astronomy tower. Figured you could pass it on."
"Sure thing!" Neville said.
But as he departed, he stared at a grandfather clock in surprise.
"Was it really this late? Could have sworn it was only 11." He muttered.
"You need more rest." Ron said.
He nodded, disappearing down a corner, back to his Common Room.
Once Neville was gone, a wild grin spread across Ron's face. Dumping the Stone out into his palm, he studied it's panel once more.
[Philosopher's Stone (Gold) LV2 665/4000000]
This was it! A Gold-grade artifact. But more than that, it was the Philosopher's bloody Stone!
Limitless wealth, immortality, alchemical supremacy… all was now at the tip of his fingertips. Of course, he didn't know how to use it, but that would be easy enough once he had time. But for now, he had to hide it.
Slipping out of the classroom, Ron slunk through the halls, using the Marauder's Map to navigate to the Room of Requirement.
From there, he made three passes, unlocking the Room of Hidden things as he found the perfect place to hide the stone, in a jewellery box filled with tarnished gemstones. Placing the box on a pre-determined bookshelf, he made sure to make it look distinct. After all, he couldn't rely on his memory to find his way back.
Once he was relatively confident he'd secured it, Ron returned to his own Common Room, carefully removing one sock, before downing a vial of sleeping draught. But just before he fell asleep, he turned his wand on himself.
"Obliviate."
And in a flash of blue, the night vanished as he slipped into slumber.