Some time later, Dumbledore and I had finally arrived at the Ministry of Magic.

The security guards, who recognized me, eyed me warily, but seeing Dumbledore, they kept silent, and respectfully showed us the way to Madam Bones' office.

Madam Bones bowed to us and said, "Welcome, Headmaster. And Raylynx Kinglsey, it has certainly been a long time since we met. How may I help you?"

"Madam Bones," I said formally.

She smiled and said, "No need for all that. Call me Amelia."

"Amelia." I held out Dumbledore's letter and said confidently, "I'm here to provide new evidence regarding Sirius Black."

Madam Bones' face screwed up in confusion. "I beg your pardon?" she said. "Evidence regarding whom?"

"Sirius Black," I said, less certainly this time.

Behind me, Dumbledore's brain whirred in action.

Barty Crouch showed up at the door just then.

"I received word that Dumbledore has-!" he began. Upon spotting Dumbledore, he hurriedly bowed his head and said, "Headmaster, it is an honor."

"Mr. Crouch," Dumbledore murmured in reply, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

"And what are you doing here?" Crouch asked me, with only the thinnest veneer of civility. "Was it not made clear to you after your little Christmas rampage that you are not welcome here?"

I glared at him and held out Sirius' wand and my vial of memory.

"I'm here with evidence that Sirius Black is innocent," I said. "Just as you've asked!"

"Ms. Kingsley," Madam Bones began, but Crouch cut her off. His face twisted in rage.

"Enough of this!" he shouted, stepping towards me.

"You asked us for this evidence!" I retorted, frustrated. "Your letter-"

"This has gone on long enough, I tell you!" Crouch growled. He struck my hand and the vial I was holding flew out of my hand and shattered on the floor.

Madam Bones gasped. My memory seeped out and then dissipated.

Crouch made to grab Sirius' wand from me, but Dumbledore interfered. He swept an arm out calmly, pushing me behind him.

Then, in a deadly calm voice that made me shiver, Dumbledore said, "Mr. Crouch, Madam Bones, am I correct in saying that neither of you have sent me correspondence in the past few days?"

Madam Bones slowly shook her head.

"I did not," Crouch said, still glaring at me in contempt.

"What?" I said angrily. "You promised! You-!" The word 'liar' died on my lips as I realized what this meant.

It's a ruse. To distract Dumbledore from Hogwarts.

Who would do such a thing?

"Quirrell," I whispered, horrified.

"Excuse us," Dumbledore said firmly, and we both ran for it. Dumbledore was surprisingly agile and we raced out of the Ministry, ignoring curious onlookers, and made our way back to the thestrals.

I clambered on. "Come on," I urged my thestral and the next moment, Dumbledore and I soared off into the sky.

I drew my thestral closer to Dumbledore's. "Professor! What if Quirrell-?" I began.

"The Mirror shall delay him," Dumbledore replied, but his eyes were shining bright and his mouth was set in a grim expression. "It is not Quirrell I am worried about."

Just then, a familiar, bright brown owl passed by us, and if my eyes had not mistaken me, it bore the Hogwarts crest.

A sharp fear pricked through my chest and my fingertips tingled with sudden anxiety.

"Professor Dumbledore!" I shouted.

In a grim voice, Dumbledore simply said, "Harry."

Dumbledore murmured to his thestral, which began to flap its wings, and my thestral did so as well in its attempt to keep up. We gathered momentum, until the wind was all but screaming in my face. My hair fell out of its braid and whipped against my face.

My heart thundering all the way back to Hogwarts, I half-tumbled off my thestral in my race to get to the castle's front doors.

We sprinted into the castle. In the entrance hall, we saw two small figures racing towards us- Ron and Hermione.

Dumbledore said, rather breathlessly, "He's gone after him, hasn't he?" and took off for the third floor, with me running right on his heels.

Fawkes, who somehow knew that Dumbledore was in need of him, flew through the air to meet us in the hallway and accompanied us.

The three of us burst into the third-floor corridor. Fawkes began to sing- a low, soulful song that sent Fluffy to sleep. Dumbledore opened the trapdoor, and he and I both dropped down. Dumbledore murmured something and swished his wand, so that both of our bodies glowed with sunlight. The Devil's Snare immediately shrank back, and we fell right through to the bottom. Just before we hit the floor, I recited, "Arresto momentum," and we landed lightly on our feet. We took off quickly into the chamber with the high archway.

Fawkes immediately dove after the correct key. The other keys kept trying to surround Fawkes and the key. Dumbledore flicked his wand and all of the keys were still, save for the one Fawkes needed to catch. With the other keys held at bay, Fawkes snatched the one we needed easily. Dumbledore inserted the key in the lock, turned it, and wrenched open the door.

We raced into the next chamber, where McGonagall's chessboard lay in wait.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and directing his wands towards the white chess players, began to recite a highly intricate spell. I watched in awe as he decimated the players into sand. The sand rose and tried to engulf us, which was presumably McGonagall's set-up attempt to defeat those who made to bypass her magic.

Fawkes squawked in discomfort.

Dumbledore waved his wand again and the sand dropped to the floor, flooding the chessboard to the point that it was spilling off the edges of the chessboard. I drew my wand and quickly etched an elemental rune in the sand. It turned into water and spilled off onto the sides of the board in the blink of an eyes, leaving us free to carefully make our way across.

The next challenge would have been Quirrell's troll, but the troll was already knocked out.

Finally, we came to the Potions challenge. Having written the riddle, I knew which was which, but there was only enough for one for the potion to pass us through. Dumbledore, however, pulled a spare vial from his cloak, and I realized that he had likely carried that around ever since Snape brewed his Potions. Fawkes settled into the middle of the circle and folded his wings, indicating that he would wait here. We both gulped down the potions and passed through the black flames and onto the chamber beyond.

Screams pierced the air.

It was Quirrell, screaming from immense pain. "AAAARGH!"

Harry had wrapped his arms around Quirrell's arm. Harry's skinny frame was being thrown about as he tried to hold onto Quirrell.

"Ha-!" I started to call, but then there was another voice. "Be done with him, you fool!"

Something in my memory jolted, and I knew I had heard this voice before.

At the same time as the memories of being attacked by Quirrell and thrown into the third-floor corridor returned to me, Quirrell, who was still screaming, turned in an effort to shake Harry off.

And then I saw it.

Quirrell's turban was gone and in its place was a most horrible face, screaming, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"

Terror rooted me to the spot. The very blood in my veins seemed to freeze. "Voldemort," I whispered in anguish.

Quirrell jerked his arm, and Harry went flying into the air. He hit the floor hard.

"Harry!" I cried aloud. I wrenched myself away from the terror that consumed me and ran over to Harry, praying that he was all right.

Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. This is all because I left for the Ministry! What was I thinking, leaving you here with Quirrell still about? Please be all right! Please!

Dumbledore stepped forth (shielding me as I ran to Harry) and pointed his wand at Quirrell or rather, Voldemort.

"Harry!" I said again, dropping to my knees beside him.

For a moment, I thought he might respond. His eyes, so reminiscent of Lily's eyes, seemed to meet mine for a moment, but then they closed, and his head rolled to the side. I gently put my hand on Harry's chest and leaned down, putting my ear to his nose. To my utter relief, I could hear his heartbeat and hear his breathing. I looked down and saw that his small hand clutched the Sorcerer's Stone. I pried the Stone from his grasp and placed it in my robes for safekeeping. Then, I started to gently pick Harry up from the ground, when I heard a low hiss. Turning my head to see what was happening, I gasped when I saw that Quirrell was burning away into ash.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a wind began to surround Quirrell, speeding up his process of decaying away.

Suddenly, Dumbledore said sharply, "Raylynx, be on your guard!" For within the contained storm of wind and sand that Dumbledore had created, there stood a ghostly figure. It was something that barely existed, that should not exist, but from it poured a great malice.

I hugged Harry to myself with one arm and drew my wand out with the other and readied myself. My heart was thundering in my chest.

But Voldemort (or his spirit, or whatever he was) screamed and darted through the air, up through the stairs, and vanished.

"Dumbledore!" I said, indicating that we should chase it.

But Dumbledore replied, "Let us focus on Harry."

I looked down at Harry in my arms. His scar stood out, livid. There were burns marks on his face and his hands.

As I examined his burnt hands, I realized that it was not Dumbledore who had caused Quirrell to burn away like that. Either Quirrell was burning Harry, or Harry was burning Quirrell. I remembered that Harry had been trying to hold onto Quirrell. So it had been Harry, young little Harry, who with his hands had been able to keep Quirrell from reaching the Stone.

"Come," Dumbledore said. "He requires medical healing beyond my powers."

I nodded and started to stand up when I saw Harry's wand was on the floor beside him. I reached over to pick it up and as I did, the years I'd dedicated to recognizing wands kicked in. For a brief moment, I felt the slightest spark in my fingertips and I knew I'd come into contact with this wand before. But there was no time for a full-scale examination.

I gently lifted Harry and followed Dumbledore quickly back to the Potions and Riddles room, where Fawkes was waiting for us.

But just before I left the chamber, I glanced back over my shoulder, and I saw the Mirror of Erised in the middle of the room, twinkling mysteriously in the dark.

The Siren Queen's voice whispered in the back of my mind: Would you like to look inside the mirror?

We carried Harry up to the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey gasped."Albus! What happened?"

Dumbledore grasped Poppy's shoulder and said, "Harry exerted an enormous amount of his energy to protect the Sorceror's Stone. I leave him in your care, Poppy."

I gently placed Harry on the bed and pressed my hand against his cheek.

"Will he be all right?" I asked Poppy, who was bustling over with some medicine and bandages.

"I believe so," Poppy said gently.

"Professor Kingsley," Dumbledore called. "I apologize, but I must ask you to accompany me."

Reluctantly, I left Harry's side and joined Dumbledore at the door, and we left the hospital wing together.

"If you would be so kind as to fetch Severus for me," Dumbledore said. "Have him bring a chest full of potion vials, and dissolvent materials."

"His office is besides the Potions dungeons," Dumbledore informed me, assuming, quite rightly, that I didn't know where Snape's office was.

I went down and knocked on Snape's door.

He opened it, and upon seeing me, said, "Yes?"

"Dumbledore is requesting that you bring a chest full of potion vials, and dissolvent materials," I relayed.

Snape gathered the materials to his desk with a wave of his wand. When I made to pick up the chest of vials, Snape shook his head at me. Although I didn't know it, Snape was thinking of the time he had sent me to get all of the potion vials in Alchemy. He had assumed that I would gather them into a basket and levitate that basket to the table. Instead, because I had seen everyone line up with their partners and carry them back to their desks together, I had tried to carry all twenty vials back to our desk by myself. And here I was, always trying to pick things up, always doing things the physical way (the Muggle way, in a sense), when a simple spell would suffice.

Snape flicked his wand and three chests floated into the air. He jerked his head towards the door, telling me to get out. The chests followed us out.

"What happened?" Snape inquired.

"Quirrell made to steal the Stone, and Harry went after him to stop it," I replied shortly.

"I assume the blessed Boy Who Lived survived?" Snape said, rather dismissively. "No doubt he only did so with the help of his friends. He would not have the wits to survive the challenges alone."

"I thought you were going to keep on Quirrell," I said, the irritation beginning to leak into my voice. "It was your job, Snape."

"Or perhaps," I said. "You would like to see your old master revived."

Snape halted. The floating chests bumped into the back of his legs, but he seemed not to notice.

"What did you say?" he voiced, almost in a whisper. His face appeared bloodless.

"It was Voldemort," I said. My voice was quiet, but my gaze on Snape was unwavering. "Voldemort possessed Quirrell. This whole time, it was Voldemort."

Snape appeared not to breathe for a few long seconds.

But he fought to regain his composure and then replied to me, in as steady a voice as ever, "Dumbledore did not inform me that he was leaving the grounds. Had he did, I assure you, I would have kept a closer watch on the third floor corridor."

"I'm sure you would have," I said dryly.

Snape did not respond, but his jaw tightened.

We had come to Dumbledore's office.

I pushed opened Dumbledore's door. Snape marched in behind me, with the chests still following.

I turned towards Dumbledore's desk to see two elderly figures having a quiet conversation: Dumbledore and Sir Nicolas Flamel.

"Nicolas," Dumbledore was saying, "Please consider if this is what you truly want. There are other ways to protect you and the Stone, my friend."

"Yes, yes," Nicolas replied, smiling. "But I assure you that it's for the best. I've been thinking about this for quite a long time, Albus. Even before this chaos."

"Besides," he commented lightly, "You can't say I haven't had my fair share of life."

Dumbledore chuckled tiredly. "If you put it that way, Nicolas, then I will be glad to humor you."

His eyes turned to Snape and me as we entered.

"Ah, Severus. Yes, if you would bring those materials here, please."

As we approached them, Sir Nicolas stood up and held his arms out.

"We meet once again, my saviors," he said.

"It was Harry Potter who saved your Stone from falling into the wrong hands tonight, Sir," I replied.

"Yes, I heard about Harry Potter, and I am much indebted to the boy." Nicolas nodded. "Nevertheless, the two of you have played equally important parts and I find it fitting that you will join me for the last phase in this adventure of mine."

"The last phase, Sir?" Severus asked.

"Yes," Nicolas replied. "Together, we are going to destroy the Sorcerer's Stone."

"Sir? Are you certain?" I said, in a hushed voice. "Doesn't that mean that you will…?"

"Die?" Nicolas finished. "Yes."

"I will procure enough Elixr to set my affairs in order- namely, my alchemic research. You understand, that's why I wished to live for as long as I have. I wished to be a witness of alchemic progress and to help wizards by passing on all that I had learned and discovered over the long years. Not just alchemically, but morally."

"You have, my old friend," Dumbledore said kindly.

Nicolas smiled and said, "Well, I hope that I have been of some use up until now."

He turned to me and said, "No amount of prolonging life justifies the near death of an eleven-year-old boy. Harry Potter has an infinitely greater right to life. So long as the Stone exists, he is in danger. That is obvious."

He turned to Snape and said, "Please have the potion vials at the ready," before turning back to me and saying, "If you would, Ms. Kingsley."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Sorcerer's Stone. The deep red facets of the jewel glinted in the light as I placed it into Nicolas' waiting hand.

Dumbledore waved his wand and the potion vials that Snape had magically uncorked rearranged themselves into a circle around Nicolas.

Nicolas raised his hand, lifting the Stone into the air. He began to murmur softly.

I gasped as bright, iridescent liquid began to flow out of the Stone and pour down either side of Nicolas' hand. The liquid separated further still into as many streams as there were potion vials, and flowed into each until they were full. Dumbledore waved his wand again, and each of the corks flew into a bottle. With yet another wave, the bottles, now filled with the Elixr of Life, piled themselves neatly into the chest.

"Now," Nicolas said, opening his eyes, "if you would help me, Severus."

Nicolas began to list the particular dissolvent elements he required.

Using his wand, Snape expertly retrieved them from the chest and lined them up on Dumbledore's desk. He had finished laying them out even before Nicolas had finished, so that Nicolas paused in the middle of his recital and after one sweeping gaze over Snape's work, praised him by saying, "Excellent, Severus."

Nicolas placed the Stone on the floor so that he was standing between the Stone and Dumbledore's desk. "Stand back now," he cautioned.

He reached behind him, and in a complicated but very precise order, he began to drip each of the dissolvent potions onto the Stone before him.

At first, there was no sign of wear on the Stone, but slowly, the Stone began to lose its deep red color. It began to seize up, emitting soft cracking sounds as the material of the stone gathered together. Its color began to change, first from a deep smoky red to a far brighter and crisper scarlet, nearly orange.

Then, Nicolas pulled out his wand. He picked up the Stone, which left a trial of dust in the air as Nicolas lifted it up off the ground.

Nicolas' eyes were shining brightly, not with tears, but with a peaceful energy. He gently tapped his wand once on the Stone. There was a bright flash of light- Fawkes squawked in a sharp cry- and then, all of a sudden, all four of us were staring up into the air, as particles of golden dust in a storm of shimmering silver light rained down on us.

I breathed out softly, and my exhale caused the air to swirl before me. I held out my hand, and felt tiny pricks dancing on my palm, as though it were the first, but invisible rain, after a long drought.

Dumbledore was smiling, though there was more than a touch of sadness in his expression.

Snape, like me, was standing in wonder, gazing at the pearlescent cloud forming around us.

Nicolas was standing in the midst of it all. His own eyes seemed to glimmer with flecks of gold as the particles of what was once the Sorcerer's Stone- his life's greatest achievement- floated before his eyes before vanishing completely.

Snape and I left Nicolas and Dumbledore alone, exiting the office.

For once, we were too humbled to bicker.

I wanted to go to a place to think, but I knew that the students were bound to be out by the Great Lake under the tree, where I used to sit and mourn and collect my thoughts.

I climbed back up to the Hospital Wing, where Poppy assured me that Harry was making a full recovery, though he was still asleep.

I sat beside him, and I gazed at his sleeping face.

You have an infinite right to life. Sir Nicolas said that.

My eyes traced the scar on his forehead, just peeking out from behind his bangs, but ultimately, I watched his sleeping face, and I couldn't help but see him as just an eleven-year-old boy.

And yet, Dumbledore's warning had come soon all too quickly.

There was no doubt in my mind that that had been Lord Voldemort possessing Quirrell, trying to reach the Stone to come back to full power.

Harry had managed to stop him this time, but there were other ways to come back, I knew.

And where could Voldemort have escaped to?

I thought I knew the answer to that as well, as my mind thought of those dark vampiric caves and the withered black tree in the mountains of Albania. I would have to write a letter to Sehtzer tonight.

But there was more than fear in my heart at Voldemort's return- there was guilt.

It was because of me that Harry was lying in the hospital wing now.

It was all because I had been so easily manipulated into flying off to the Ministry, without a thought in the world for who I was leaving behind unprotected. True, I knew that there were protections guarding the Stone and I had not known that we were guarding against Voldemort, as opposed to just Quirrell, but the fact remained that had I been more grounded, I might have deduced that the Ministry letter was fake, and that at the very least, Dumbledore should remain at Hogwarts to continue protecting the Stone and keeping an eye on Harry.

The image of the potion containing my memory shattering on the floor of Madam Bones' office flashed across my mind.

I shut my eyes.

Though the Sorcerer's Stone was no longer in my pocket, I could feel the thin outline of Sirius' wand still inside my robes.

I held Harry's hand in my own and I whispered, "I'm so sorry, Harry. Not only did I fail to protect you here at Hogwarts, but I failed to get your godfather back."

I closed my eyes and gently buried my head in the sheets and against the side of Harry's little arm.

I don't know how long I remained like that, but at some point, Poppy gently roused me and told me I needed to get some rest, and I finally left the Hospital Wing.

The next morning, I had just visited the Owlery to send off my owl, Artemis, with a letter to Sehtzer. I trusted she would get there faster this time, since she had been there once before. However, as soon as I entered the Great Hall for breakfast, a large owl flew right in front of me and dropped a letter into my startled hands.

I opened it. It was from Poppy. She had written: Thought you would want to know- Harry is awake. Dumbledore is with him now.

Just then, I heard my name being called.

"Professor? Professor Kingsley?"

I turned to see Ron timidly calling to me. Hermione was standing beside him.

I smiled warmly at him.

"Ron, are you all right?" I asked.

Ron nodded.

Beside him, Hermione, before she could stop herself, blurted out, "We were only wondering if you'd heard anything about Harry."

"As a matter of fact, I have," I replied. "The two of you should visit him after breakfast."

Ron and Hermione looked excitedly at each other.

I hesitated and then said, "Did the two of you…? That is, did you go down to the dungeons with Harry?"

"We did," Ron confirmed, mumbling a little, as though he was afraid that I was going to tell him off.

"And did one of you play against McGonagall's chess pieces?" I inquired.

Ron gulped a little, but he raised his hand honestly.

"And did either of you solve the Potions riddle?" I asked.

Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip.

"She- She solved the Devil's Snare, too," Ron said, whether to give her more of the credit or blame, I wasn't sure. I laughed a little and said, "I see. Well, I'm very glad that you two are all right. As I said, you should be able to see Harry after breakfast. Tell Poppy- I mean, Madam Pomfrey, that I give my expression permission if she refuses you two."

When I finally sat down at the table, I saw that my delay in visiting the Owlery and stopping to chat with Ron and Hermione had cost me. Once again, there was only one seat left beside Snape. I studied him for a brief moment. I wonder, could he have known that Voldemort was controlling Quirrell? Did he deliberately allow Quirrell to forge ahead, or did he truly not realize what was going on? Snape looked up and seeing me standing there, gave me an unpleasant look before returning to his breakfast and Potions documents. I cast my eyes down, but my mind remained on Snape. Now, what Remus had said at my sister's wedding was true. After all that had happened in the War, and despite Regulus, I bore a grudge against most of the Slytherins and especially those who had been Death Eaters. I could not forgive them. And in particular, I could not forgive Snape. You may think me biased, but I had deep and rooted reasons to distrust Snape. After seeing Snape help Sir Nicolas to dissolve the Sorcerer's Stone, I was reminded once again of the fact that Snape was nothing short of a genius. He could have used that ambition to lead a life apart from being a Death Eater, and kept his promise to protest Lily. Instead, he brought the contents of the prophecy to Voldemort, causing Voldemort to target her, James, and Harry. Based on this one piece of treachery alone, I could not, in a million years, forgive Snape. But the fact that Snape was different from Regulus, who was boxed into this life and had no way out- the fact that Snape did not come from a deranged pure-blood family and the fact that Snape could easily find glory from his talents alone- roused a fury in me that would never be parched. As he left the table, I stared at his back with an unforgiving gaze. If Dumbledore and McGonagall thought I was bitter now, they would be shocked if they knew about how I constantly thought about giving Snape a true piece of my mind.

"Er- Professor Kingsley? Hullo?"

I looked up to see Hagrid standing before me.

"Yes, Hagrid?" I said, trying to cover up how out of it I had been.

"I'm sorry ter bother ye. It's just that- Well, tomorrow's Harry's last day, and I thought that maybe I could make a little sumthin' for him- a collect of photographs of his family, s' long as I can get enough photographs. You wouldn't happen to have any, would ye?"

"Oh, I do have some photographs. I'd be more than happy to send them your way," I said.

Hagrid beamed and said, "Thanks very much."

That evening, I visited my home again to complete Hagrid's request. Digging through all of the photographs, I came across the photograph I had taken at the Longbottoms' Christmas party and it had almost the entire Order in it. My eyes gazed hungrily at the many faces of friends now lost. I slowly put down that photograph and kept searching until I found the one of Lily and James' wedding, as well as one of Lily and James dancing together before a fountain in a park. I even managed to dig out the photograph I'd taken of James and his parents, back during that summer the Potters had taken care of me after what had happened to Jamie. I put all of the photos in an envelope and tucked them away in my cloak.

Then, I knelt down and replaced Sirius' wand in its box. I shut it away in the drawer and locked it magically and with that seal, I swore to myself that I'd lock away the impulsive and daringly hopeful side of me too, even if it was what had kept me going for all of these long years. What I needed to be now was not a hero, but a guardian.