However, the plan did not go smoothly at all. First, he and Ron were driven away from the door hiding Fluffy by Professor McGonagall. Then, Snape discovered Hermione acting suspiciously. When the three of them regrouped in the common room, they couldn't help but look at each other, all clearly dejected.
"Well, I guess this is it, right?" Hermione and Ron both stared at Harry, who was pale but whose eyes were shining brightly.
"I'm sneaking out of here tonight. I'm going to try and get the Stone first!"
"You're mad!" said Ron. "You can't!"
"You heard what McGonagall and Snape said! You'll be expelled!" Hermione clearly disagreed as well.
But when Harry, with a pained expression, said the words, "Voldemort killed my parents," both Ron and Hermione were at a loss for words.
Yes, Voldemort had murdered his parents. This was an undeniable fact and the biggest reason for Harry's choice to stop Voldemort's return and face his mortal enemy.
Clearly, neither Ron nor Hermione had a way, nor the right, to deny this.
He glared at Ron and Hermione, as if to say that even if they didn't agree, he would definitely go.
"You're right, Harry," Hermione said weakly.
"Good thing Marcel picked up the Invisibility Cloak that day. I think I'll need it," Harry said, thinking of Marcel again. "I just don't know where Marcel has gone. I really want to ask him for his advice."
"But can it cover all three of us?" Ron asked doubtfully.
"Us? Three?"
"Oh, don't be stupid! Did you really think we'd let you go alone? Obviously, you need help."
"Of course not," Hermione also said, her hands on her hips and her chin held high with pride. "How could you think of leaving us behind to go after the Philosopher's Stone alone? I'd better go look through my books. Maybe I can find something useful... Oh, and we should definitely get Marcel—"
"But we can't find him," Ron finished her sentence.
"But... if we get caught, you'll be expelled too," Harry said, clearly not wanting his best friends to get implicated because of him.
"Maybe not," Hermione said with a confident smile. "Flitwick secretly told me that I got one hundred and twelve percent on my Charms exam! With a score that high, they wouldn't bear to expel me."
"But I might not be so lucky," Ron said, patting his forehead. "I think we should go look for Marcel again. He's the best one to deal with Professor McGonagall."
After dinner, they carefully avoided the crowds and searched all over Hogwarts Castle again. But it seemed to be no use. He hadn't even shown up for dinner, as if he had evaporated from the school.
In the end, they returned to the common room. Hermione was frantically flipping through various books and notes, trying to find a few useful spells or something else.
Harry and Ron, on the other hand, spoke very little. They were constantly thinking about what they were about to do.
Once all the other students had gone to bed, Harry hurried back to the dormitory and retrieved the Invisibility Cloak.
Just then, he happened to see the rather crude-looking flute that Hagrid had given him for Christmas. He put the flute in his pocket, planning to use it on Fluffy. He really wasn't in the mood to sing to the big dog.
When he ran back to the common room, the three of them were mentally prepared. They were ready to set off. But unexpectedly, Neville emerged from behind a sofa.
"What are you doing?" he asked, clutching his toad, Trevor. It looked as if Trevor had just made another bid for freedom.
"Nothing, Neville, nothing," Harry said, hastily hiding the Invisibility Cloak behind his back.
"You're going out again," Neville said in a low voice, looking at their guilty expressions.
After the twists and turns of the last incident, Neville seemed to have become much more resistant to night-time wanderings at Hogwarts. He felt there was no benefit to it, and it could lead to losing points.
He stood in front of the common room exit, the portrait hole, and spread his arms to block Harry and the others from leaving.
"That night, Marcel told Professor McGonagall—he said I did the right thing. Not letting you go out is for your own good. You can't break the school rules again," Neville said, his face shining with determination. "Marcel also said that I was very brave!"
As for whether Marcel had actually said these things—yes, he had. He felt that Neville had courage in his nature. Although he was timid and insecure due to his upbringing, he would always grow at critical moments.
Of course, he never expected that his words would become Neville's reason for stopping Harry. From this, it was clear that Neville did have courage, but perhaps his brain wasn't quite there yet—or rather, he was still just a child.
"I won't let you do it," Neville said, puffing out his chest. "I'll—I'll fight you!"
"Neville," Ron said, furious, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot—"
"Don't you call me an idiot!" Neville said, taking a step forward.
"Come on, then, try and hit me!" he said, raising his two chubby fists. "I'm ready!"
Harry turned to Hermione. "Do something," he said desperately.
Hermione stepped forward, her thin lips pressed together, and pointed her wand at Neville.
"I'm really, really sorry about this," she said. "Petrificus Totalus!"
Neville's whole body instantly stiffened. He became rigid and, after wobbling for a moment, fell over like a statue with a thud onto the plush carpet.
Hermione ran over and turned Neville over. His jaw was clenched shut, so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes moved, looking at them in terror.
"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.
"It's the Full Body-Bind Curse. It's what Marcel used to punish Malfoy. He told me some key points for casting it. It's very useful," Hermione said, looking sadly at Neville. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry, so very sorry."
Harry pulled her away, and they hurried out of the common room. Their time was short. Snape might have already gotten to the Philosopher's Stone by now.
Along the way, Harry tricked Peeves and then, at top speed, they arrived outside the fourth-floor corridor.
"Oh—the door's open!" Ron whispered.
"See? What did I tell you?" Harry said quietly. "Snape's already got past Fluffy."
Looking at the half-open wooden door, they seemed to realize more clearly what they were about to face.
"If you want to go back now, I won't blame you," Harry said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."
"Don't be stupid."
"Let's go."
Ron and Hermione spoke almost at the same time.
Harry looked at them and nodded, suppressing the emotion in his heart as he gently pushed the door open.
With a creaking sound, a low growl immediately reached their ears. Although he couldn't see them under the cloak, he had clearly detected them.
"Look at its paws. The harp," Hermione whispered.
"Snape must have left it," said Ron.
"It'll wake up the moment the music stops," Harry said, taking out his flute. "Alright, listen to this—"
But whether it was because Harry couldn't play, or because the flute Hagrid had carved was out of tune, the sound was exceptionally awful. Ron and Hermione couldn't help but cover their ears.
But this noise-like melody seemed to be particularly effective on the three-headed dog, Fluffy. It soon stopped growling, its eyelids began to droop, and before long, it was lying on the floor, asleep.
Harry continued to play while Ron and Hermione moved the giant paw off the trapdoor.
To be honest, getting past Fluffy was relatively easy, and the Devil's Snare that followed wasn't too difficult either. But unexpectedly, at the third challenge, Harry and the others encountered their first accident.
"...They're not birds at all!" Harry said, standing in front of the locked door and looking at the small, shiny things circling in the air. "They're keys—keys with wings! Look closely. Which obviously means?"
"It means the door can't be opened with an Unlocking Charm," said Hermione. "Alohomora!"
Sure enough, the locked door didn't budge.
"...No, look," said Harry, pointing to a corner. "Broomsticks!"
"But, among all those little birds—I mean keys, among all those flying keys, finding the right one might be a job for Marcel," Ron said, looking helplessly at the huge flock of tiny things flying in the air.
"I think I can try. Madam Hooch said I'm a good flyer," Harry said.
But so far, Harry had only flown a few times in flying class. To ask a little wizard who had never had systematic practice to do this, even with Harry's high talent, was not possible. At least, that's what Ron and Hermione thought.
"Whatever it takes, I have to try!" Harry said firmly.
He picked up a broom and mounted it. He was a little nervous, but not too scared. He muttered to himself, "Just do what we were taught in class, yes, that's right."
As it turned out, if your talent was high enough, it was indeed possible.
Well, except that when Harry was holding the flying key, which had clearly been grabbed once before, he was lying on the ground, his other arm bent at a strange angle.
"Oh—no—" Hermione couldn't help but cover her mouth.
At this moment, Marcel, who was immersed in his experiments, would never have guessed that he had missed this event. And he would have even less expected that his words would truly change everything, setting things on a course toward another unknown extreme.