Late at night, a burst of strange noises suddenly echoed through the empty fourth-floor corridor—layers of breathing, deliberately suppressed yet still audible footsteps, the faint friction of fabric brushing against fabric, and finally, hushed voices…
"The door's open a crack," a clear female voice whispered.
"See? I told you—Snape must have gone in ahead of time. I've no idea what kind of Confundus he slipped Dumbledore, but he still hasn't been suspected at all…" a boy muttered.
"…If you want to back out now, there's still time," he added. "You can take the Invisibility Cloak. I won't need it anymore."
"Don't be stupid," another boy said quietly.
"We go together," the girl said.
"…Harry, Ron, Hermione—you really did come."
A calm voice suddenly sounded from the doorway.
Thump!"Ow!"
With three dull crashes, three figures appeared sprawled awkwardly on the floor, along with a length of silvery fabric of indeterminate material scattered beside them.
"Wh—who's there?"
Harry and the others no longer cared about being exposed. Scrambling backward on hands and knees, they hurriedly drew their wands—
"It's me."
Baron's figure slowly emerged from the shadows. "I'm here to help you clear the later obstacles."
"Baron?"
Harry let out a suppressed gasp. "Why are you here? And how did you know—"
"Ken asked me to help you. I also know how important tonight is. Dumbledore isn't here, and the other professors all firmly believe the Philosopher's Stone is perfectly safe. That leaves only those of us who know the truth to act."
Baron's tone was grave.
"You and Ken are both involved? Then where is Ken now?"
"He has something more important to do."
Baron shook his head and strode to the corridor door. "Get inside—every second we waste increases the chance of something going wrong."
"You…"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks, then leaned their heads together and whispered urgently.
"Can we trust him?"
"Probably. He's helped us plenty of times—and he's Ken's friend…"
"But don't forget he's in Slytherin. Snape is Head of Slytherin—what if Baron was sent by him?"
"Send a second-year to stop us? Snape has far better options—Slytherin prefects, or even Filch…"
"Exactly. And remember when Snape nearly killed Harry—Baron was the first to notice something was wrong. They're definitely not on the same side. Don't make the same mistake we made with Ken…"
"…I'm still worried."
"So are we going in or not?"
"…All right. You're right."
The three of them finally looked up at Baron. "Then we're counting on you."
"Thank you for trusting me."
Baron nodded, then asked, "You know the weakness of the three-headed dog, right? Did you bring an instrument?"
"I did."
Harry nodded and pulled a small flute from his pocket, raising it to his lips and blowing a painfully off-key tune. The effect was immediate—when the first note sounded, they could clearly hear the breathing behind the door grow long and deep.
"Don't stop," Baron whispered. "The moment the music stops, it'll wake up."
As he spoke, he carefully pulled the door open just wide enough for one person to slip through sideways. Harry and the others followed suit, tiptoeing silently inside, closing the door behind them, and stopping before the trapdoor beside Fluffy.
"Jump straight down. There's something below to catch you. Ken already scouted the mechanisms inside," Baron urged softly, then jumped through the trapdoor himself. Ron and Hermione followed immediately. Harry, meanwhile, carefully stopped playing, then couldn't help glancing back at the deeply sleeping Fluffy—at its feet lay a harp.
Snape's already gone ahead.
His anxiety spiked. Stuffing the flute away, he jumped into the dark trapdoor.
A sudden sense of weightlessness engulfed him. Cold, damp air rushed past his ears as he fell and fell and fell—
Thump.
"Don't move."
Baron's steady voice came from the darkness. "What's holding you is Devil's Snare. The more you struggle, the tighter it constricts—and if you're unlucky, it can suffocate you… Incendio."
Bright flames burst forth, driving away both the Devil's Snare and the darkness.
They could see one another again.
"Thank you," Harry and the others said gratefully as they freed themselves. Ron suddenly asked, "Baron, you said Ken already figured out all the mechanisms here?"
"That's right," Baron nodded.
"Then… why didn't he move the Philosopher's Stone in advance? He knew someone was trying to steal it, didn't he? And he could contact Dumbledore at any time…"
"Because he couldn't get past the final obstacle—one personally left by Dumbledore himself."
Baron's voice was low. "Dumbledore also knew someone was after the Stone, yet he didn't move it precisely because of that magic. He has absolute confidence in it."
"Then aren't we—"
"But you already know who's after the Stone—the one who vanished eleven years ago. Voldemort himself."
"That's right."
Hermione's face went pale. "The Dark Lord is powerful enough to rival Dumbledore. The magic Dumbledore left behind might not be able to stop him. And if he taught Snape how to break it…"
"We have to hurry."
After exchanging looks, Harry was the first to speak.
"Yes."
Baron nodded lightly. The trio's reactions were exactly as Ken had predicted. Everything was proceeding smoothly.
"Move quickly. Beyond this corridor is the next trial—and that one should be right up your alley, Harry…"
Casting Lumos, Baron walked briskly at the front. Even his lowered voice echoed faintly in the silent, enclosed space.
"Baron, can you tell us—what has Ken been doing all year? And where is he now? We—"
"Don't ask anymore, Harry."
Baron shook his head. "Until this is over, Ken's actions can't be known by anyone. It's far too important… We're here."
They had reached the end of the corridor. Before them lay a brightly lit chamber with a high, arched ceiling. Countless jewel-bright "birds" fluttered through the air. Across the room stood a heavy wooden door.
"Those flying things are keys. You need to mount the brooms nearby and catch the largest key to open that door. Don't try to attack or summon them with magic—that will trigger a fierce counterattack."
"Got it."
Baron watched as Harry and the others mounted the brooms and engaged in a frantic aerial pursuit of the keys, and couldn't help sighing.
They really haven't thought about why such a tightly guarded obstacle would thoughtfully provide flying brooms for intruders… though that's partly due to my own selective misdirection…
I just hope Ken's foresight isn't wrong—that Harry can remain absolutely safe in front of Voldemort. Otherwise, when the time comes, I won't be able to spare the attention… Even if using a first-year is shameful, it's the only option with the lowest cost…
For the greater good.
(End of Chapter)