[23] The Empty Cave

Devil's Snare caught him immediately, wrapping tight around his body. He went limp, and the vines loosened, setting him down.

Any first-year who paid attention in Herbology could pass this.

He dusted himself off and continued.

The next room held winged keys, fluttering chaotically. His Quidditch instincts kicked in. "Petrificus Totalus."

The keys froze mid-air and fell to the ground. He spotted the one with the broken wing, picked it up, and unlocked the door.

He passed each defence with ease. Until the final room.

Two potion bottles. One led forward. One led back. Two people were needed to drink simultaneously.

Hall was alone.

He stared at the green flames blocking his path. Was he stuck here?

Then he remembered. He pulled out a bottle of Felix Felicis from his bag — brewed just in case. He uncorked it and drank.

The feeling was strange. His sixth sense told him to drink the third vial on the right.

He did. The flames parted.

He stepped through into a vast, empty cave.

The Felix Felicis still whispered to him. Don't go in.

Hall looked around. The cave was empty. Nothing. No mirror. No Stone.

The Philosopher's Stone is still with Dumbledore. He'll place it in the Mirror of Erised after Christmas.

He sighed and turned back.

The trapdoor opened onto darkness.

Hall walked dejectedly back to his dormitory. A wasted night.

The cave was empty. The Philosopher's Stone wasn't there. Dumbledore would place it in the Mirror of Erised after Christmas — and the mirror would only give the Stone to someone who wanted it without wanting to use it.

Only Harry could retrieve it.

I'll have to wait until after Christmas. And I'll need to bring Harry.

He collapsed onto his bed. "Finite Incantatem." The spell on his roommate lifted.

He walked dejectedly back to his dormitory.

The next morning, Hall ate breakfast with a bowl of porridge — a special request from the house-elves, who'd become fond of him after he shared a few recipes.

But people were staring at him oddly. Whispers everywhere.

"What's wrong?" He checked his reflection. Everything looked fine.

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"It's the rumour that came out yesterday," Blaise said.

"What rumour?"

"Professor Quirrell shouting 'He's back! He's back!' at you." Blaise scoffed. "Obviously fake."

Hall glanced at Draco. His face was pale. Grey-white.

"You're You-Know-Who's... one of his people?" Draco's voice was stiff.

"If I said no, would you believe me?"

Draco's colour returned. He'd written to his father about Henry's background. The reply was unremarkable — ordinary parents, refugees from persecution. Nothing suspicious.

But the inconsistencies bothered him. Still, whoever Henry was, he was a Hogwarts student. Draco said nothing more.

"By the way, do you still have that Radiant Glow Potion?" Draco asked, changing the subject. "I sent a bottle to my father. He wants to work with you long-term."

Hall calculated. "How much do you need?"

"Twenty bottles of the Radiant Glow. Thirty bottles of the others. For now."

Draco handed him a coin purse. Full payment. "Can you do it within a week?"

Hall weighed the purse. A thousand Galleons, at least.

[Ding]

Available Galleons: 2,508 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 23 Knuts

Never mind what I said about stopping. Draco is a real customer.

The next morning, the whispers had grown teeth.

Hall thought the rumours would die down. They didn't. They grew worse.

"Say that again?" He scratched his ear.

Ron stood in front of him, angry but afraid. Harry stood beside him, looking embarrassed.

"I don't really believe it," Harry said, "but Ron does, so I wanted to ask."

"Ask what?"

Harry took a breath. "The school rumour is that you're Voldemort's bastard son. That the Malfoys and all of Slytherin are under your control."

It was Halloween. The Great Hall was decorated with pumpkins and floating candles. Ghosts drifted through the walls. Students were everywhere.

Hall stared at them. "Where did that ridiculous rumour come from?"

He turned to Ron. Ron actually believed this? We were born from the same mother at the same time.

"You believed it? That outrageous story?"

Ron took a step back. "I believe you."

The last word broke Hall's control. He lunged at Ron and beat him. It was a one-sided thrashing — Ron was defenceless.

Professor McGonagall separated them. "Henry William! Ron Weasley! Five points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor! Fighting in public!"

Hall glared at Ron and walked into the Great Hall.

The rumour spread like fire.

Inside, a thousand bats fluttered across the ceiling. Low-hanging clouds swirled above the tables, making the candles flicker. Ghosts appeared from walls and tables, laughing at frightened students.

Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, nursing his bruises. "I could have beaten him," he muttered. "But subconsciously, I couldn't fight back. Like something bad would happen."

Harry looked at him. "Hall?" he asked. "Does Henry look like your brother?"

"Not in appearance. But in the way he fights... it's exactly the same."

Hall sat at the Slytherin table, fuming. Draco was doubled over laughing.

"Look at that Weasley's face! Why didn't Potter get beaten?"

"Harry didn't. Do you want to?"

Draco sat up straight immediately.

The Halloween feast was lavish.

The Halloween feast was lavish. Hall ate with enthusiasm — a chicken leg in one hand, pumpkin juice in the other. He'd been working non-stop. He needed to recover his strength.

Snape was already considering making Hall the seventh-year teaching assistant, so he could apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Fortunately, Dumbledore hadn't agreed.

If he had, I'd appeal to the Ministry's labour board.

"Bang!"

The doors of the Great Hall swung open. Quirrell stood there, shouting, "Troll — in the dungeons — I thought you ought to know —" Then he collapsed.

Chaos. Dumbledore cast Sonorus and directed the students to their common rooms.

Hall saw Harry and Ron sneaking away from the crowd. He frowned and followed.

What is Quirrell doing? Voldemort is already out of him. Why risk something so suspicious?

He reached the corridor near the girls' bathroom. Then he heard it.

A heavy, dragging sound behind him.

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