Sunrise at Midnight

We were walking for what seemed forever. Dumbledore couldn’t run, so I couldn’t exactly run. Plus, I had no idea where the Stone was or how to get there. Only Harry, Ron, and Hermione, did. I began to wish I had gone with them.

I knew that Dumbledore wouldn’t have interrupted me in the library and come out of the tower if it wasn’t serious. If he told me my brother was in danger, I knew something was wrong. It wasn’t just that maybe he fell and scraped his knee, or bruised his arm. I could already smell the peril he was in, and my visions supported the horrid thoughts rushing through my mind.

My mind immediately jumped to what Harry had told me the day he told me about the Stone. He had mentioned Snape going after the Stone. If Snape was after the Stone, and Harry was too, was that why he was in danger? Was Snape going to hurt him?

No, Rosalie. Snap out of it! Snape wouldn’t hurt Harry. I kept repeating this in my head as we turned in another corridor and went up the stairs to the next floor. Why was the trip taking so long?

Snape may have had a hatred to the Potters, but I know he would never hurt Harry. He may be a cold-hearted Slytherin but he definitely wouldn’t go as low as putting an eleven-year old in danger.

Would he?

Rosalie, stop it, for God’s sake! You don’t even know if he’s after the Stone or not!

We reached a door at the end of the floor. It was unlocked. Hurriedly, Dumbledore walked in. I could see a large, three-headed dog fast asleep. There was a harp next to the dog.

Was this the massive creature Harry told me about? The massive creature that injured the Potions master?

Dumbledore lifted his index finger. I nodded at him, biting my tongue to keep me from talking. The worry in me was building up. I knew that these obstacles would only get worse. Did Harry make it past them safely?

Dumbledore helped me down the trapdoor, where we were greeted by Devil’s Snare. It latched around my body and I let out a scream.

“Professor, help,” I exclaimed as it tightened even more around me.

“Calm down, Rosalie. The Devil’s Snare will not let go unless you remain completely calm.”

I nodded and tried to push off the fear of the large plant that had almost suffocated me, letting my tense body loosen up. I stopped squirming and noticed the plant was immediately loosening on me. I was able to get out of it.

“Please don’t tell anyone that ever happened,” I told the Professor, a bit embarrassed by what just happened.

He nodded. “Certainly. Come on, we must hurry!”

The next room had some broomsticks and a bunch of flying keys flittering around the room. I noticed a broomstick was thrown on the floor, and the door was swung open, unlocked. So they made it this far.

I followed Dumbledore through the door. This sight wasn’t as pleasant as the room I was just in. I noted that it was a large board of wizard chess. The pawns were all moved everywhere and the door was open. But that wasn’t the unpleasantness. The part that caused me to cringe in worry and fear was the unconscious, wounded Ron on the floor.

Dumbledore rushed to his side and knelt down, eyeing him. “He’s passed out,” he confirmed.

“Is he okay,” I asked in worry, looking at the red-headed eleven year old Weasley in front of me.

“Mr. Weasley will be alright, but he should be taken to Madam Pomfrey as soon as we rescue your brother.”

“Are you sure he’s going to be alright,” I asked, my voice raising a little. The last thing I needed was to leave Ron alone here and have him die, then go back to the Burrow to explain how because of me and Dumbledore he had died in his first year.

He nodded and simply rushed to the next room to see an unconscious troll lying on the floor. I sighed. After the time they fought off the troll in the bathroom, nothing phased me anymore.

All I could do was hope they were able to make it.

I noticed all the bottles were intact except for two. I read the piece of parchment that lay where the seven bottles were, learning about what each potion did.

A riddle? This isn’t what I needed now.

I knew this was a test of logic, and whoever figured this out would have to be smart. If Harry had made it past, Hermione was probably the one who had taken the one who led back to the castle.

“He drank the potion that leads to the Stone,” Dumbledore realized.

My face grew even more worried.

“Then how do we go save him? I’m not letting him die! Especially not now, I found him this year, I’m not losing him,” I almost snapped in a worried tone.

The Headmaster gave me a pat on the back. “Calm down, Rosalie. Patience is a virtue. We will get to him.”

I tried to calm a bit, but the worry was still surging through my every nerve. Before I knew it, Dumbledore was holding my wrist and I was being sucked through a tight tube. I couldn’t help but feel sick.

He let go and turned to me. I stood up from my position on the ground to realize we were in a room, behind pillars. I could see the Mirror of Erised in the middle, and Professor Quirrell. His head was bald, and he was without a turban.

Why was Professor Quirrell after the stone?

But what I didn’t expect was when I looked to the mirror. Behind his head, was another face. And throughout the room, a cold voice ringed through that I had plastered inside my head from ten years ago.

The voice of Lord Voldemort.

Harry was standing there, looking around the fire that surrounded the room. All of a sudden, Harry yelled at the figure. “Never!”

What had Voldemort said to him?

“Harry, would you like to see your mother and father,” the raspy voice asked.

My heart stopped.

I looked to Harry, who was eyeing him as if he had grown a second head. Speechless.

“Together? We can bring them back. All I ask is that you give me the stone.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the stone, eyeing it. I could tell he was deciding.

As great as it would have been to be next to my mother and father again, I knew very well that he was trying to deceive Harry. He would never bring them back. Voldemort’s only desire is to kill Harry, why would he help him?

I silently prayed Harry didn’t give him the stone. Dumbledore watched intently, his eyes wide. I could tell he was hoping the same thing I was.

“Professor, we have to go and help him before he does something,” I whispered to him.

He shook his head. “Not yet, dear Rosalie. It’s not the time yet.”

“There is no good and evil,” Voldemort said. “There is only power. And those too weak to seek it. Together we can do extraordinary things. And your sister, Rosalie, yes, with her too, the power we will have is more than enough to do the unthinkable. Just give me the stone, Harry.”

Harry’s expression immediately replaced itself from shock to anger. “You liar,” he exclaimed at him.

“Kill him,” he yelled at Quirrell, making him float towards Harry. I immediately tried to run to help him, only to be held back by Dumbledore.

“Let me go! I have to save him!”

He did not reply, but continued to hold me back. I struggled to escape his grasp. I watched as Quirrell tackled over Harry, almost choking the air out of him. Harry tried to grasp the stone, but failed. He reached for Quirrell’s arm, gripping it, causing it to burn. My eyes widened at the sight.

Quirrell stood up and began to cry in pain. Harry looked at his hands.

“What is this magic,” Quirrell exclaimed. He wasn’t stuttering.

“Forget him! Get the Stone,” Voldemort demanded.

Harry immediately ran for him, letting his hands meet his face. I watched as his palms made contact with the skin, causing it to burn and crumple him.

And with that, I watched him dissolve into nothing.

I looked down in bewilderment at the now dead Professor. Harry walked towards the Stone, taking it in his hands. He smiled at it, and I couldn’t help but smile too. He was okay.

My thoughts had spoken too soon, when suddenly a smoke lifted up behind him. He turned around and screamed. I could see in the smokey, foggy figure, the face that was behind Quirrell’s head. The smoke went straight through Harry, causing him to fall back.

“Harry,” I exclaimed.

Voldemort’s fogged figure began to leave the room. Dumbledore and I ran out to Harry, who was now unconscious on the floor, the Stone in his hands. Dumbledore grabbed the Stone from him and waved his wand at it, muttering an incantation, breaking the Stone.

“We have to take him to Madam Pomfrey, and Ron too,” I told Professor Dumbledore, worry rising up in my voice.

The Professor merely nodded. He looked around the room that was now burning in the fire, and began walking towards the flame that had brought Harry into the room. I picked up Harry (who was rather heavier than I expected), and began to carry him to the flame that would lead us out of this hellhole.