Begotten

Next turned out to be a room filled to the brim with flying keys. They reminded Moriah of dragonflies as they swooped this way and that. There was a broom stick hovering in the center of the room and the object was easy enough: catch the key.

“We’re looking for an old, fat key, one that would fit in that lock,” Harry told them as all of them looked up.

“There!” Ron pointed. Moriah followed his finger, finding a large, ancient looking key flying slower than the others. One of its little wings looked to be broken, and it was obvious that it had been caught a few times.

“Harry, this is all you,” Moriah told him. “You’re the seeker here.”

The boy stared at the broom, frowning as if he was confused. “It’s too easy,” he muttered.

“What?”

He didn’t answer, just took hold of the broom and straddled it. At the same moment, all of the keys began to fly faster than before, wings flapping furiously as they buzzed around like wasps. Harry began flying, swatting them from his face while Hermione, Ron, and Moriah ducked, batting them away.

The noise was deafening in comparison to the near silence they had been in just moments before, but soon, Harry was yelling, grasping the antique key and tossing it to Hermione when he was at ground level.

“Hurry!”

She shoved the key into the lock and pushed the door, leaving it open for Harry to fly through and slamming it shut just in time for at least a dozen keys to come stabbing through the wood.

“Wow,” she breathed.

“I’ll take a Quidditch match over that any time.”

Ron grinned and patted his friend on the back before they all pushed forward, walking until the flooring changed from brick to tile.

Stopping, Moriah looked down, shining light from her wand at her feet. They were standing on a checkerboard pattern, and pointing her wand forward, all four of them gasped at the sight of dozens of huge figures. They looked like statues, completely still, painted black and white.

“What in the world…”

Ron lit up. “I know what this is. It’s a chess board.”

“A chess board?” The blond answered.

“Like…” Hermione swallowed. “Wizard’s chess?”

The ginger boy nodded.

“Do you think they’ll let us pass without playing?” Harry asked, though he didn’t wait before he walked forward, trying to step past some enormous pawns only for them to pull stone swords from the sides to block him.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“We have to play across,” Ron said a little absentmindedly. He looked around at what he had to work with, already mapping out his game. “Harry, take the place of that bishop. Hermione, stand there instead of that castle. Moriah…” he glanced at the pieces for a moment before gesturing to a knight. “You’ll be with me.” He then slung his leg up on a stone stirrup and hauled himself onto his own knight's horse.

Harry and Hermione looked frozen in place, and once Moriah got situated, she looked to the other Gryffindor boy and asked, “What now?”

“Well, white goes first and then we play.”

The next few minutes were a clash of screams, crashing, and crumbling rock. Ron played across the board, moving his friends wherever he needed them as they moved closer and closer to the door on the other side. The white queen took several pieces, leaving a sort of graveyard on the side of the board full of destroyed black soldiers. All of them had to block their faces from getting showered with debris and after Ron equaled the playing field by taking just as many, if not more, white pieces, the worst came.

“Wait a second,” Harry uttered. He looked up at Ron. “Ron…”

His face was ashen as he stared at the queen which seemed to be looking back at him. “It’s the only way.”

“No!” All of them yelled. He was the last one left.

“Sacrifices have to be made! That’s Chess! I’ll make my move, and she’ll take me. That leaves you, Harry, to check the king.”

“But—“

“Do you wanna stop Snape from getting that stone or not?”

“Ron!”

“You’re wasting time! He could have the stone right now!”

Moriah took a deep breath. There was no other way. Harry and Hermione must have realized this as well because they stopped protesting. Ron nodded and squared his jaw before moving forward.

The blonde watched with wide eyes as the queen turned to him. The torches at the corners of the board were blazing ominously, casting twisted shadows of what was happening on the walls around them. She raised her large sword slowly, and Moriah held her breath as she brought it down on the horse that Ron was on.

He let out a scream and fell the long way to the ground, his head hitting the stone floor with a sick crack.

“Ron!” Harry and Hermione made to run for him, but Moriah stopped them.

“Wait! We’re still playing!”

Harry had to steel himself again before taking the few steps he needed to reach the queen that had just laid waste to their friend. He glared up at her and spat, “Checkmate!”

The sword she had only just used fell from her hands and clattered loudly on the marble floor, and the three of them rushed over to Ron who was lying on the floor unconscious.

“We’ve got to get him to the hospital wing,” Moriah said, wiping blood away from a gash on the side of his head.

“Let’s go.”

“Harry, no,” Hermione put a hand on his forearm. “I’ll take him, Harry. You’ve got to stay.”

“But Ron!”

“This is your fight, Harry,” Moriah started. “Not mine, not Hermione’s. It’s yours. You’re the one who has to be there.”

Harry bit his bottom lip. She could tell that he was worried for Ron and scared for himself, but he knew that they were right.

“You can do this, Harry. I know you can,” Hermione smiled. “You’re a great wizard.”

Moriah stood and held a hand out for him to take. “Ron’ll be fine. Come on.”

The bespectacled boy stared at her for a few seconds then took the hand and heaved himself up.

“Hermione, make sure Ron gets taken care of. Afterward, go to the owlery and send Dumbledore a message.”

She nodded from where she was sitting, holding Ron’s head in her lap. “I’ve got it. Now go!”

Grabbing him by the wrist, Moriah tugged him along until he met her pace. They ran for the door on the back wall, swinging it open only to be met with a long span of stairs.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked her.

Moriah only nodded, squeezing his hand once before they began their descent. Snape had to be down there. He may not have been waiting for them, but he would be there. And what were they supposed to say to him? If he already had the stone, it wasn’t as if they’d be able to stop him, much less kill him. Lord Voldemort could be standing there with him, fully restored and ready to murder Harry.

They had to try, though. With the faint hope that the stone was untouched, they took the last few steps and walked into an open room.

Moriah frowned at what she saw. It was an open space, seemingly carved out of the stone castle. The only thing in it was a large, familiar mirror in front of which stood an easily recognizable man.

Only, it wasn’t Snape.

“No,” Harry spoke, earning the man’s attention. “It can’t be! Snape!”

Professor Quirrell smirked. “He does seem the type, doesn’t he? Next to him, who would expect p-p-poor s-stuttering Professor Quirrell?”

Moriah felt anger rise up inside of her and rushed forward, brandishing her wand, but with a simple wave of his hand, it flew from her grasp. Quirrell laughed, stopping only when another, colder voice rang out. “Stupid girl!”

Harry appeared by her side again. “Then Snape. He was hurt on Halloween! You let the troll in!”

“Yes,” he answered in a greasy voice. “While everyone else was heading to the dungeons, Snape left to head me off. He of course, never trusted me again. He hardly left me alone. Of course… I’m never alone.”

Moriah’s eyes were on her wand which lay by the mirror or Erised. There was no way to get to it without crossing Quirrell.

“But my broom! Snape was trying to kill me!”

“I tried to kill you!” the professor roared. “And I would have succeeded, if it weren’t for Snape’s little counter jinx.”

Harry looked so shocked, Moriah thought he might faint. “Snape was… Trying to save me?”

She was much more surprised to find this out than she was to find that Harry and his friends thought that he was trying to get to the stone. Snape saving Harry? It was against the Potion Master’s very nature.

“Now, what does this mirror do? How do I use it?” He turned back to it suddenly, like he had forgotten about the two students watching him. “Help me, Master.”

Harry and Moriah looked at each other in confusion. Master? There wasn’t anyone but the three of them.

That cold, harsh voice sounded again, and the blonde had to look around to make sure she wasn’t the only one that could hear it.

“Use the boy,” it said.

Quirrell turned around and pointed at Harry. “Come here, boy!”

Moriah wanted to reach out and grab him, stop him from going down there, but Harry let his feet carry him forward, stopping right in front of The Mirror of Erised.

“Tell me, what do you see?”

If it was the same as last time, Harry was staring at his parents, James and Lily, just like Moriah had seen her parents, or what she thought were her parents.

Harry said nothing, though, simply fingering something in his pocket and eliciting yet another angry roar from Quirrell. “What do you see?”

“I-I’m shaking hands with Dumbledore. I’ve just won the House cup.”

“Let me speak to him… Face to face…”

Moriah shivered at the voice. Quirrell seemed to have a similar reaction as he looked up with fearful eyes. “Master, you are not strong enough!”

“Let me see the boy!”

With shaky hands, the professor reached up to his large turban and began to unravel it. Both Harry and Moriah watched him, the latter walking over to her friend slowly. Her wand was now even closer. If only she could use accio to get it.

When the last of the cloth fell away, Quirrell scrunched up his face and turned around, revealing another. It shifted under the skin as if stretching after being hidden for so long.

Moriah felt like her insides had been coated in ice. She couldn’t swallow, a lump having risen in her throat sometime back, and her own voice was lost in the terror she was feeling.

“Harry Potter,” it hissed out. “See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another’s body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds… Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past few weeks… you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest… and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… Now… why don’t you give me that Stone in your pocket?”

Moriah couldn’t help herself from turning to look at Harry. He made no move to reach for it, but with all eyes on him, she took a chance and dashed for her wand.

Voldemort’s laugh pierced her to the core, and just before she could reach it, Moriah was hit with a brutal force, leaving her sprawled on the floor by the stairs. Judging by the way it throbbed, she had hit her head along the way.

“Moriah Priel…” Her hazy eyes shot open to look at the face on the back of Quirrell’s head. “Such a lovely surprise. However, your time has yet to come.”

With another raised hand, the professor flicked his wrist and caused the blonde’s head to whip back harshly, bouncing against the last step behind her and effectively knocking her out. The last thing she heard before the darkness swallowed her whole was his chilling voice saying, “We will meet again.”