Chapter 19: The array pattern.

It was a fact that reality was far more complex than one's imagination and no plan survives the first contact.

Kent got the taste of the said fact today.

In a moment of excitement, he downloaded the whole 'Comprehensive book on magic' which the system had finished optimizing, yesterday night. And with that came an influx of a huge amount of knowledge into his brain, resulting in a nerve-wrenching pain. He thought he was going to die. He wanted to scream, but, before he could even utter a single word, he lost consciousness.

'I shouldn't have been so careless,' Kent shuddered as a chill ran down his spine.

He really got a taste of what pain and despair felt like.

"But, I also figured out the kinks of the 'Danger sense' pattern," He laughed giddily, for, the gain outweighed the loss by a large margin.

It had got to do with the underlying law that governs the working of a magic, be it ritual magic, simple charms or even potions and alchemy.

The world has four fundamental forces, gravity, electrostatic, weak and strong nuclear forces. These four forces govern everything we see in general. But underneath all, there is another, more fundamental law. It is interwoven with the very fabric of reality – Runes.

A rune, in its purest form, is a rule. When an individual directly or indirectly triggers the rune, it overrides the basic mundane laws and give birth to phenomenon, which, in our cognitive appears miraculous, or in simple terms – magical.

The Runes we see, or write is just one expression of the underlying rules. For example, wand movement is an expression for the rune or runes which produce the desired effect of the spell intended, or, the sequence in which potion ingredients is added, the way it is stirred and so on.

Similarly, the array pattern which instilled the danger sense in Kent after visualising it, was a trigger for the underlying rune for some sort of Divination spell which made him aware of impending danger. In laymen terms, 'danger sense' is a spell and the array pattern is the trigger.

Following this reasoning, it was very possible to concieve similar type of 'trigger pattern' for levitation spell, cutting curse, mending charms, summoning charms and so on.

"If it is really possible, then I don't have to fear anyone at all," Kent was excited.

...

After fiddling with the system a bit, Kent found that it was indeed possible to deduce array pattern for each spell, even spells like 'Legilimency'.

And, the surprising fact was that it took only a week to conceive a single pattern. As, he had five slots, he could make five array pattern every week.

For the spells, he chose the shield charm that he deduced using the system, the levitation spell, the cutting curse, blasting hex, summoning charm and so on.

Kent spent the next two months visualising and mastering the array pattern which the system deduced, and, to his surprise it was very easy compared to the first time with the 'danger sense pattern'.

Hermione, on the other hand, was busy saving Harry and Ron from trouble. She obliviated Draco when he was about to inform Professor McGonagall about the baby dragon Hagrid had won in a pub. She also helped smuggle the same dragon out of Hogwarts, saving Hagrid's job.

Her intentional intervention also prevented their detention with Hagrid and consequently Harry's encounter with Voldemort in the forest never happened. He also failed to recieve the obvious clues from Firenze the centaur.

But, it only delayed the inevitable.

Dumbledore, who wanted to create a confrontation between Harry and Voldemort used Hagrid to provide clues to Harry, Ron and Hermione so that they would eventually try to stop Voldemort from getting the philosopher stone.

Hermione, who was from the future, became more skeptical about Dumbledore.

She voiced her doubts to Kent.

Kent said, "Well, you know. Dumbledore may have good intentions but his way of achieving a goal leaves a lot to be desired."

"But, don't worry. I have found a perfect way to end Voldemort once and for all." Kent declared.

Hermione was shocked.

"Listen, in the first week of June, when Harry confronts Voldemort...," Kent told Hermione about his plan to end Voldemort.

"...and you need to master this spell." Kent finished explaining.

"What spell?" Hermione asked.

Kent didn't answer but looked straight into Hermione's eyes and imprinted the array pattern of the shield spell (Impervious to even the forbidden curses) using legilimency.

Hermione was dazed for a moment after which she exclaimed, "When did you learn–?"

"We'll talk about it later. You've got only one month to master this spell," Kent said solemnly. "I don't want you take any unnecessary risk."

Another uneventful month had passed by, as Hermione mastered the shield charm and the fact that she mastered it using the array pattern had enabled her to use the spell instinctively.

Kent was very happy and relieved at the same time. Now, he wouldn't have to be so worried about her safery as they executed the plan.

...

The month of June arrived. A tense atmosphere had pervaded the hallowed walls of Hogwarts, for, the end year exam was coming. To the seniors in their sixth year, it was the defining moment for their career.

But under the quotidian details of student life, a storm was brewing. A storm that would change the future of Wizarding world for better or worse, only time would tell.

On 4th June, 1992.

Voldemort, who was getting impatient, had finally decided to steal the philosophers stone. And, in a stroke of luck, Dumbledore was out of school for he was summoned for official business. It created the perfect opportunity for him to steal the stone.

Harry and Ron, on the other hand, had also deduced that it was Voldemort who wanted to use the stone to return back to power. They wanted to inform Dumbledore of their findings, but unfortunately the headmaster was out of Hogwarts for official business in the ministry.

Harry suddenly realised that Voldemort might use this opportunity to steal the stone during the night.

Not being able to convince Professor McGonagall that the stone was in danger, they decided to save the stone from theft.

Hermione, for once, didn't object as she knew that the time to execute the final plan had finally come.

She clenched her fist.

She was very eager to see Voldemort's demise, for, the dark lord had ruined the future she came from. Her parents, her friends, her beloved, everything was taken from her. She wanted to kill Voldemort herself, but as the prophecy foretold, only Harry could kill Voldemort.

...

After supper, the students went into their respective dormitory. As usual, most of them went into their beds, too exhausted.

As the night settled down, the golden trio quietly walked out of the Gryffindor's dormitory under the invisiblity cloak. Hermione, as a precaution, charmed the portrait of the fat lady so that it wouldn't notify anyone, especially Filch the caretaker.

Harry and Ron was totally unaware of Hermione's actions.

As they reached the room where the entrance to the underground chamber was, Ron and Hermione attracted the attention the Fluffy the Cerberus – the three headed dog, for, it was sitting directly above the entrance to the underground chamber.

The Cerberus charged for Hermione and Ron but before it reached them, Harry activated the music box they prepared just for the Cerberus. The seemingly mundane melody coming from the music box seemed to have a magical effect on the three-headed as it stopped and collapsed into a peaceful sleep.

Harry placed the music box on the stone floor and they quietly climbed down the entrance followed by Ron and Hermione.

Instead of landing on the floor, the trio found themselves under the confines of numerous black vines that seemed to tighten around them every second.

"Lumos." Hermione uttered as a bright light emitted from the tip of her wand. The black vines, as if scared by the light, loosened and the trio was finally freed.

"Huff! Huff! Tha-Thanks!" Harry and Ron thanked Hermione while gasping for breathe.

"You are welcome." Hermione shrugged off their gratitude, for, she wasn't the naive, little girl who had a thirst for praise.

"Let's go," Hermione reminded them.

Their next obstacle was a life sized chess battle. Ron, having a certain mastery over chess took command and beat the black piece. But, he was also incapacitated after the game.

After making sure that Ron was in no danger, Harry and Hermione decided to advance.

The next obstacle was tailor made for Harry. The challenge was to catch the real key to the door among the numerous flying keys. Using the flying broom that was purposefully left by the creator of the puzzle, Harry easily caught the desired key, for, it was shiny and easily noticeable among the rusty keys.

The next challenge was a bit tricky. It had a riddle on a paper and seven potion bottles.

For Hermione, who had once lived through all this events, the puzzle was a joke. She drank one of the potions, and asked Harry to go forward. Hermione gave a kiss on his cheeks and said, "I'll be alright Harry, you go on."

Harry reluctantly parted and walked to the entrance of the chamber which appeared very dim from the outside.

Before entering the hall, Harry took a last glance at Hermione who nodded and encouraged him by saying "Go on Harry. Don't worry about me. I am alright."

After Harry was out of sight, Hermione headed back. For her and Kent's plan to succeed, she needed to guard the entrance. It was because, they didn't want any unnecessary complications.

...

Kent was already in the chamber, waiting for Harry. He was under the disillusioned spell that he had modified using the system.

He needed to remain undetected from both Voldemort's and Dumbledore's senses. He anticipated the presence of both headmaster and Voldemort but to his surprise Dumbledore was nowhere to be found.

'Does the headmaster know any kind of concealment that my senses cannot pick up? Or, is he watching from somewhere else?' He was doubtful at first, but suddenly recalled that the headmaster had a phoenix. He could teleport anywhere in the castle with the help of the phoenix.

He was now sure that the chamber was under headmaster's surveillance.

He snapped back to reality by the sound of footsteps coming from the entrance of the chamber.

"Finally," he whispered to himself as he saw a bruised Harry slowly descending down the stairs.

"You!" gasped Harry. He recognised the person standing in front of the large mirror. It was none other than Professor Quirrell.

Quirrell smiled.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

There was no stuttering. It was like an entirely different person compared to the nervous professor who was afraid of his own shadow.

"But I thought -- Snape--"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?" Quirrell muttered as he stared hungrily at the mirror.

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Snape was threatening you..."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions -- he is a great wizard and I am weak--"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..."

Kent, on the side, was very surprised by Harry's courage and wit. If his real age was same as Harry and he found himself in similar situation, he might've been quivering in fear.

'Maybe, this is the charm of a protagonist.' Kent sighed. He was not jealous, for, he had something far more valuable than that.

"I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?" Quirrell cursed under his breath.

Harry tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Use the boy... Use the boy..."

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes -- Potter -- come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket -- and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow -- incredibly -- he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry screwed up his courage.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I -- I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?

But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies... He lies..."

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this..."

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter... " it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "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 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?"

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching... " it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened -- he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers -- they were blistering before his eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck -- Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him -- my hands -- my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms -- Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face --

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain -- his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off -- the pain in Harry's head was building -- he couldn't see -- he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down... down... down...

A black cloud, that was Voldemort, came out of Quirrell burnt body. The vague facial construct of the cloud glanced below at Harry. He wanted to kill the boy but before he could do so, he heard a fierce cry of a phoenix. The room suddenly lit up with fiery red flame and from within a ball of flame appeared Dumbledore.

The wrath like Voldemort darted through the corridor, for, he knew he couldn't beat Dumbledore in his present form. Dumbledore didn't chase after the wrath. He glanced at Quirrell's ash and then carefully picked Harry up. He then vanished with the ball of flame enveloping him.

...

Voldemort's wrath who had just came out of the hall suddenly stopped for he felt a sudden danger.

A box, that was laying on the floor opened up and numerous scarlet chains emerged from it. Before he could react, the chains wrapped around him and dragged him into the box. The box then closed by itself.

A hand suddenly protruded out of thin air and picked up the box. The hand then vanished along with the box.

It was Kent. He didn't want to be seen by anyone.

...

AN: The next chapter will be the final.