Chapter 24: 3

The Tale of Draco’s Burden [The Philosopher’s Stone Arc]

After pushing aside their friend Neville—who had stood his ground with such bravery—by force of a Full Body-Bind, Harry, Ron, and Hermione began their journey under the Invisibility Cloak. Though they felt a heavy pang of guilt, they managed to reach the bottom of the Gryffindor Tower stairs, only to collide head-on with something entirely unexpected.

"Watch where you’re going, everyone."

"Malfoy!"

"—Draco!"

Standing elegantly against the backdrop of the moonlit corridor, arms folded grandly with his hawthorn wand in hand, was a boy with a cold, aristocratic visage. It was Draco Malfoy.

He looked at Harry and the others with a look of profound exasperation, a faint, mocking smirk playing on his lips. His beautiful, ice-grey eyes reflected the three of them clearly, despite the fact that they were supposed to be invisible.

The truth was simple—Draco had been waiting, listening intently for the sound of three sets of footsteps descending the tower, and had purposefully stepped into their path. The impact had caused the Invisibility Cloak to slip, revealing them.

"Get out of the way, Malfoy."

"Please, let us through. It’s absolutely necessary."

"Draco..."

Following Neville, the appearance of this new obstacle—one far more troublesome due to his sheer brilliance—sent the children into a panic. They reacted in three different ways: threatening, pleading, and appealing to him.

Harry believed that Draco wasn't a bad person. However, it was also true that Draco had a habit of acting indifferent depending on the time and situation. If he were to run to a teacher now...

"I don't mind letting you through."

"Draco...!"

"On one condition: I’m coming with you."

Ron was the first to shout at the unexpected proposal from the nonchalant Draco.

"Why on earth would you come? You don’t even know what we’re trying to do!"

"—It’s the Philosopher’s Stone, isn't it?"

The mention of those definitive words struck the three of them dumb. They exchanged glances filled with bewilderment.

"Don’t worry, I won’t be a hindrance. Now, we’re burning daylight. Make some room under the Cloak, Weasley."

Ignoring the children's confusion, Draco forced his way under the Invisibility Cloak. Ron made a face of utter, extreme, and absolute disgust. Harry whispered softly:

"...It’s Maria, isn't it?"

Draco didn’t answer. Instead, that same cynical, mocking smile he sometimes showed Maria flickered across his pale face—and that was answer enough for Harry.

After Harry revealed an unexpected talent by warding off Peeves (using an impression of the Bloody Baron, whom the poltergeist feared), the group finally stood before the three-headed dog. Harry whispered to his companions.

The trapdoor hidden beneath the beast’s paws was already open.

"Ron, Hermione, Draco—if you want to go back, you can. I won't hold it against you. Take the Cloak with you. From here on—"

"The four of us are going. Since no one can see us down there anyway, we won't be needing the Cloak. Not you, and not us."

Hermione smiled at the remaining two, as if asking, Right? They both smiled back and nodded without hesitation.

"Let’s go, Harry."

"...Yeah."

The hand Ron used to pull Harry along was entirely different from that of his constant companion, Maria, but it was just as reassuring. Hermione’s spirited declaration and Draco’s cool, steady gaze—Harry felt as though every one of his friends was supporting his every step.

"They used that harp to get past the trap," Draco surmised, looking at the harp lying at the feet of the three-headed dog, whose six eyes were now fixed firmly on them.

Hagrid’s first line of defense to protect the Stone—Fluffy, the giant watch-dog—had a weakness: he would fall fast asleep at the sound of music. Clearly, whoever had opened the door before them had used that harp (likely a magical one) to play a lullaby.

"What should we do? If we want to use that again, someone has to get close to Fluffy."

"Are you joking? If you go wandering up to that thing, it’ll go snap! at your head, and then snap-snap! from the other two sides!"

"Quiet down, you two. It’s fine, we don't need that. I brought a flute for this. Watch."

Harry quieted his two noisy best friends (meanwhile, his other, rather ill-tempered friend remained silent, looking as though he’d rather die than approach an untrained monster kept by a half-giant). From his pajama pocket, Harry pulled out a simple wooden flute. Ron recognized it—it was the handmade gift Hagrid had given Harry for Christmas.

Harry pressed his lips to it. A strange sound, more like an owl’s hoot than a melody, mingled with the dog's growls. After a moment, all three of Fluffy’s heads finally lolloped off into a deep sleep.

"Good. Keep playing, Harry."

"Malfoy?"

Now that the threat had temporarily vanished thanks to Harry’s wit, the boy who had been acting so composed peered into the trapdoor without hesitation. However, the hole was so deep that the bottom was invisible in the darkness.

"..."

The children watched Draco as he stared into the abyss. There was silence—or rather, only the sound of the dog’s snoring and Harry’s erratic piping. After a moment's hesitation, Hermione stepped up beside Draco, leaving Harry and Ron behind. Ron gripped his wand tightly next to Harry, standing in for him since Harry's hands were occupied with the flute.

As Draco felt the weight of three pairs of anxious, youthful eyes on his back, his mind was on the words Maria had said—the Maria who wasn't there.

The first trap is Cerberus. And the second trap is...

"...Right. I’ll go down first. If it's safe, I'll send up a light, then you follow. Harry, sorry, but you’re last. Keep playing that flute."

Harry, still blowing frantically into the flute, nodded with wide eyes. A stray, awkward note echoed through the room.

"But Malfoy, alone? It’s dangerous!"

"Nothing about this isn't dangerous at this point."

Brushing off Hermione’s worried protest with what Ron called his "posh, arrogant smirk," Draco dropped into the hole. Mid-fall, he drew his wand and cast a Cushioning Charm on himself. Whoosh. He landed softly. From the texture of the ground beneath him, he realized the second trap was exactly as Maria had described.

Looking up at the pitch-black opening, Draco waved his wand again. Maria had told him there was no need to overprotect the children. As an "adult" Draco acting as an escort, he wasn't to interfere unless they were truly stuck. In that case...

A light shot straight up from the tip of his wand. Soon after, Ron came tumbling down. Draco cast a spell to slow him down just before impact, though for some reason, the lanky boy still managed to hit his backside hard. Hermione followed, and finally, Harry dropped down. Draco used the usual slowing charm on Harry, but also went as far as to catch him with his own hands. His favoritism was glaringly obvious.

"Th-thanks, Draco. Is this... a plant? ...Hermione?"

"What are you all just standing there for! Oh, look, it's too late!"

Just as the four of them had gathered at the bottom, Harry noticed Hermione was already pressed against the wall. She pointed at their feet with a look that suggested they were being incredibly dim. Vines were already winding around their ankles.

"W-whoa, what is this?!"

"Don't move!"

Despite the chaos, Harry obeyed Hermione’s sharp command and went still. Ron, however, struggled violently, and the vines quickly bound him up to his torso. Draco hadn't moved from the start.

"This... yes, I know it—it’s Devil's Snare!"

"I'm glad you know the name! It would be even better if you knew how to deal with it!"

"Shut up! I’m trying to remember!"

Ron, who was usually easygoing but acted stubborn around the girl he liked, let out another childish retort in the darkness. Watching them from a step back, Draco saw the shadows of the bickering couple they would become in the future and let out a quiet, secret chuckle.

Honestly, that redhead never changes, no matter how old he gets.

"What did Professor Sprout say...? Um, right, Devil's Snare likes the dark and the damp..."

"—So use fire! Hermione!"

Harry, though being constricted slower than Ron, shouted as the vines reached his stomach. But Hermione shouted back with the most unbelievable thing Harry had ever heard.

"But there’s no wood!!"

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD? ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?!"

At this, even Draco couldn't help but snort with laughter.

Right. A Muggle-born would think they need wood and a lighter to start a fire.

Feeling the heat from Ron, Draco, and Harry’s reactions—Harry especially, who shared her Muggle background and felt a bit of second-hand embarrassment—Hermione cleared her throat sheepishly and lit the tip of her wand. Draco did the same, prioritizing Harry's rescue. Draco Malfoy’s favoritism remained as transparent as ever.

After fighting off the vines with fire, they moved into the next room. The moment the door opened, they saw a vast number of shadows fluttering above. There were so many that they looked like a flock of small birds, but upon closer inspection, they were keys of all shapes and sizes with wings, zooming through the air. At the far end of the room was a locked door, and several broomsticks were propped up nearby. The requirement of the trap was obvious.

One by one, they mounted the brooms and, under Harry’s direction, chased after the winged keys—specifically, a silver one that matched the lock, with its wings mangled as if it had been grabbed before.

Now, this was something Harry didn't know—and a truth that didn't exist in this world's timeline—but Draco had years of experience as a Quidditch Seeker.

The boy, whose knowledge and experience far outstripped his young appearance, handled his broom with an ease that shouldn't belong to a first-year with no sports background. Even Ron had to admit Draco was better than the "broom-handicapped" Hermione. In truth, Draco was feeling a bit competitive, as if he were in a match against Harry.

Nostalgic. He kept that bittersweet feeling hidden in his heart as he watched Harry’s back dive down to seize something in the distance.

Before long, Harry—the youngest Seeker in a century (and a genius!)—snatched the correct key. Draco allowed himself a small, boyish smile of satisfaction where the others couldn't see.

The next room contained a massive chessboard. Giant pieces, as tall as grown men, stood in the center of the room.

Following the children, who were speechless at the alien sight, Draco once again recalled "her" voice and expression—the girl-like voice of the one who had told him this story many times. The face of the one who deeply regretted that this was the only trial where someone had been hurt.

Under the command of Ron, who apparently had a high opinion of his own chess skills, the Black pieces—including Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco—began to move to defeat the White side. The game was a close one. Even with Draco added as an "extra" piece, they reached a point where someone had to be sacrificed for the Black side to take the King.

At this stage, given the positions of the pieces, the most effective sacrifice was...

"..."

"..."

Draco’s ice-grey eyes met Ron’s sky-blue ones, both sharing the same realization.

Ironically, both Ron and Draco knew. This was a development that the Muggle-born Harry and Hermione, who were unused to Wizard's Chess, couldn't even imagine. At this moment, Ron’s greatest confidant wasn't his best friend Harry or the clever Hermione, but his arch-nemesis, Malfoy.

However, as Draco looked at Ron’s pale, freckled face and saw his resolve, he gripped the wand in his pocket, contrary to the brave commander's intent.

I wonder... if I defend, does it still count as being 'taken' by the game's logic? Is there time to cast Protego on Weasley?

Finally, Ron declared he would be the bait. Harry and Hermione realized what was happening and tried to stop him in anguish.

But Ron’s will was firm. His blue eyes weren't looking at his own potential injury, but only at the victory of his friends. Seeing this, Draco truly felt a spark of respect for Ron.

He's a red-headed Gryffindor, reckless and thoughtless, but he possesses the noblest spirit of chivalry.

"Listen. I’ll move forward and be taken by the Queen. Then, Harry, you checkmate the King."

"Ron..."

"When the game is over, don't dawdle here."

Knowing that unavoidable violence was about to strike him, Ron smiled bravely despite being pale with terror. The white Queen’s stone arm swung down. Hermione let out a silent scream. Harry grit his teeth, looking as though he might cry.

"—Protego!"

The shield was cast just a split second before the stone arm could crush his head. However, a shield cast by a first-year couldn't negate the entire physical impact; Ron was knocked onto the board and fell unconscious.

Harry immediately took the white King and shouted "Checkmate!" Then, he and Hermione tried to run toward their friend, who was being dragged away by the enemy pieces. But...

"—DIDN'T YOU HEAR WHAT WEASLEY SAID?!"

Draco’s roar made them stop in their tracks.

"I’ll look after Weasley. You two, hurry on."

"But..."

"You know my skill with magic, don't you? I told you at the start I wouldn't be a hindrance. ...Don't make a fool out of a man who worked so hard in front of the girl he likes, Granger."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, holding back tears. She grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him toward the next door with enough force to kick it down.

Watching their retreating backs, Draco applied a healing spell to Ron. He couldn't stop a small smile from forming as he whispered. 

"...Honestly, Weasley. You’re a quite good man."