Speaker 1: USU Studios. Hello there, welcome back, Come in, Come in,
Speaker 1: settle down, pull the covers up around you. Take a slow,
Speaker 1: slow breath in and let it out gently. There you are,
Speaker 1: You are safe, You are warm, and I am here
Speaker 1: as always to read you softly to sleep. Welcome to
Speaker 1: muggle Snuggle. I am Nigel, And this is a boring
Speaker 1: Harry Potter podcast, maybe with love to help you drift
Speaker 1: off to night, we continue our journey through Harry Potter
Speaker 1: and the Philosopher's Stone. We are on chapter sixteen. It
Speaker 1: is called through that trap door. Just close your eyes
Speaker 1: and listen. There is no rush we have all night.
Speaker 1: If you enjoy drifting after this, do it, subscribe, leave
Speaker 1: a review, or share it with a friend who needs
Speaker 1: help sleeping. It helped more than you know, and you
Speaker 1: can always put this on in the background while you
Speaker 1: drift off. Just let my voice be your companion through
Speaker 1: the night. Now, before we begin, let us gently drift
Speaker 1: back to where we left off. Harry, Ron and Hermione
Speaker 1: have spent the year piecing together the mystery of the
Speaker 1: Philosopher's Stone. They know it is hidden somewhere in the castle.
Speaker 1: Protect it by enchantments. They believe Professor Snape is trying
Speaker 1: to steal it for lort. But what they discovered that
Speaker 1: Nicholas Flamel is the creator of the stone, and that
Speaker 1: it produces the elixir of life. And to night they
Speaker 1: have decided that they must act. Dumble Door has been
Speaker 1: called away from the school on urgent business, and they
Speaker 1: are convinced that the theft will happen to night while
Speaker 1: the head master is gone. Let your mind wander to Hogwarts. Now,
Speaker 1: the corridors are dark and quiet. The candles have burned
Speaker 1: low in their brackets. The portraits on the walls are sleeping,
Speaker 1: their painted eyes closed, their painted breaths soft, and even
Speaker 1: the suits of armor stand silent and still along the walls.
Speaker 1: And somewhere three young children are creeping down a staircase
Speaker 1: into the unknown. Now let us begin. The entrance to
Speaker 1: the trap Door was on the third floor, in a
Speaker 1: corridor that had been forbidden since the very first day
Speaker 1: of term. Dumbledore had warned the entire school, in his calm,
Speaker 1: quiet way, that anyone found wandering in that corridor would
Speaker 1: suffer a painful death. Most had taken him at his word.
Speaker 1: Harry Ron and Hermione had been there once before, months
Speaker 1: ago when they had accidentally stumbled upon Fluffy. Fluffy was
Speaker 1: an enormous, three headed dog. Hagrid had brought him from
Speaker 1: a stranger in a pub, which was the sort of
Speaker 1: thing Hagrid did quite regularly, which caused a great deal
Speaker 1: of worry for everyone who knew him. Fluffy was the
Speaker 1: size of a small elephant. He had three heads, each
Speaker 1: with a set of very large, very sharp teeth, and
Speaker 1: he drooled an extraordinary amount the saliva pulled on the
Speaker 1: floor in thick, sticky puddles that smelled of dark and
Speaker 1: something worse. He was, by any reasonable measure, the most
Speaker 1: terrifying creature in the castle, and Hagrid adored him. But
Speaker 1: to night was different to night. They had a purpose,
Speaker 1: and they had Hagrid's flute. Hagrid had lent it to
Speaker 1: Harry weeks ago, just in case. It was a small
Speaker 1: wooden flute, nothing special to look at. The wood was
Speaker 1: rough and uneven, and one of the halls was slightly
Speaker 1: too large, which made the notes come out a bit wobbly.
Speaker 1: But when you played it, Fluffy would fall asleep, all
Speaker 1: three heads at once. Hagrid had told them that quite casually,
Speaker 1: as though it were the most normal thing in the
Speaker 1: world to have a three headed dog that liked music.
Speaker 1: They reached the door. It was locked, but Alloyimara, the
Speaker 1: unlocking charm, took care of that. In a moment, Hermione
Speaker 1: whispered the word, and the lock clicked open with a small,
Speaker 1: satisfying sound, And then they were inside. The room was
Speaker 1: dark and very large. The ceiling was high above them,
Speaker 1: lost in shadow. The floor was cold stone, and the
Speaker 1: air spelled a dog and damp and something metallic like
Speaker 1: old blood. And there in the middle of the floor
Speaker 1: was Fluffy. All three of his heads were awake, and
Speaker 1: all six of his eyes were fixed on them. A
Speaker 1: low growl rumbled through the room, deep and menacing, like
Speaker 1: distant thunder rolling across the hills. The sound vibrated in
Speaker 1: Harry's chest. Harry raised the flute to his lips and
Speaker 1: began to play. He was not a good musician. The
Speaker 1: notes were shaky and uncertain, like a bird learning to
Speaker 1: sing for the first time. They wobbled and cracked and
Speaker 1: occasionally squeaked. But it did not matter. Fluffy's eyelids began
Speaker 1: to troop, all six of them. The growling softened to
Speaker 1: a murmur, then to a gentle snore, and then the
Speaker 1: great beast lay down, all three heads resting on the floor,
Speaker 1: with a heavy bone shaking that and fell asleep. A
Speaker 1: thin line of truel pulled beneath each mouth. They moved
Speaker 1: quickly but carefully, tiptoeing around the sleeping beast and the
Speaker 1: middle of the floor. Beneath Fluffy's massive body was a
Speaker 1: trap door. Ron lifted it with trembling hands, his face
Speaker 1: pale in the torch light. They peered down into darkness,
Speaker 1: a deep, dark hole with no bottom in sight. The
Speaker 1: air that came up from below was cold and stale,
Speaker 1: like the breath of something long dead. Hermione went first.
Speaker 1: She lowered herself through the opening and dropped into the darkness.
Speaker 1: Then Ron, who muttered something very rude under his breath
Speaker 1: before letting go. Then Harry. As Harry released the edge
Speaker 1: of the trap door, he fell through the darkness, and
Speaker 1: the flute slipped from his fingers. It clattered away somewhere below,
Speaker 1: lost in the black one. He landed on something soft
Speaker 1: and springy, like a very thick mattress. But it was
Speaker 1: not a mattress. It was a plant, a large, sprawling,
Speaker 1: rubbery plant. With tendrils that reached out and wrapped gently
Speaker 1: around his arms and legs. They were warm and damp,
Speaker 1: and they moved with a slow, deliberate purpose, like the
Speaker 1: fingers of someone who had been waiting a very long time.
Speaker 1: Devil snare, Hermione recognized as at once. She had read
Speaker 1: about it in Hogwarts a History, a book she had
Speaker 1: read so many times that she could quote entire passages
Speaker 1: from memory. The more you struggled, the tighter it held you.
Speaker 1: That was its trick. The tendrils were warm and soft,
Speaker 1: almost comforting, like being tucked into bed on a cold night,
Speaker 1: which made it very difficult not to struggle. It felt
Speaker 1: like being wrapped in a living blanket, a blanket that
Speaker 1: was slowly, gently, patiently squeezing the breath out of you.
Speaker 1: Ron panicked. He thrashed and kipped and cursed, his face
Speaker 1: red with effort, which only made the plant hold him tight.
Speaker 1: The tendrils wrapped around his chest, his arms, his legs,
Speaker 1: pulling him deeper into the mass of dark green leaves.
Speaker 1: Hermione told him very firmly to stop moving, to relax,
Speaker 1: to go limb Ron looked at her as though she
Speaker 1: had gone mad, but Hermione was right. She was almost
Speaker 1: always right. The moment they stopped fighting, the plant loosened
Speaker 1: its grip, The tendrils relaxed and withdrew, leaving their skin
Speaker 1: warm and slightly tamp They wriggled free, one limb at
Speaker 1: a time, and dropped through the bottom of the plant
Speaker 1: unto cold stone below. The next chamber was beautiful. It
Speaker 1: was a vast, high ceilinged room filled with hundreds and
Speaker 1: hundreds of tiny, glittering, jewel bright birds. Except they were
Speaker 1: not birds. They were keys, keeyse with delicate papery wings,
Speaker 1: darting and swooping through the air like a flock of
Speaker 1: enchanted swallows. They caught the light from the torches and
Speaker 1: through tiny sparks of gold and silver across the walls.
Speaker 1: And at the far end of the room was a door.
Speaker 1: They tried to open it. It was locked. They tried allahormorer.
Speaker 1: It did not work. They tried summoning charms, they tried
Speaker 1: every spell they knew. Nothing worked. The door was sealed
Speaker 1: shut by something stronger than ordinary magic. And then Harry
Speaker 1: noticed the broomsticks, three of them, leaning against the wall,
Speaker 1: as though some one had left them there on purpose,
Speaker 1: and on the other side of the room, high up
Speaker 1: near the ceiling, hanging from a single hook, was a battered,
Speaker 1: old fashioned key with bright blue wings. It was larger
Speaker 1: than the others, and it darted about with a nervous energy,
Speaker 1: as though it knew it was being hunted. Harry understood
Speaker 1: at once. They had to catch the key on broomsticks
Speaker 1: in the middle of a room full of hundreds of enchanted, darting,
Speaker 1: diving keys. It was essentially a seeker's task, and Harry
Speaker 1: was the youngest seeker in a century. He mounted his
Speaker 1: broom and launched himself into the air. The key scattered
Speaker 1: in every direction, spinning and diving, forming chaotic patterns, trying
Speaker 1: to confuse him. Some of them swooped at his face.
Speaker 1: Others tried to hide behind each other, but Harry had
Speaker 1: eyes only for the blue one. He chased it through
Speaker 1: the room, twisting and turning, diving and climbing, his robes
Speaker 1: streaming behind him. The key was fast and clever, but
Speaker 1: Harry was faster. He cornered it near the ceiling, reached
Speaker 1: out with cold, stiff fingers and caught it in his hair,
Speaker 1: and the key struggled and fluttered, pressing its sharp edges
Speaker 1: against his palm, but Harry held firm. He flew to
Speaker 1: the door, thrust the key into the lock, turned it,
Speaker 1: and the door swung open with a gentle click. The
Speaker 1: next room was dark and very cold. It smelled of
Speaker 1: stone and old wood and something else, something sharp and clean,
Speaker 1: like frost on a winter morning. And in the middle
Speaker 1: of the floor was a giant chest set. The pieces
Speaker 1: were taller than Harry, carved from black and white stone,
Speaker 1: and they were alive. They turned their carved heads to
Speaker 1: watch the children enter. Their carved eyes followed them. The
Speaker 1: black pieces stood on one side, the white on the other,
Speaker 1: and they waited. There was only one way across the room.
Speaker 1: They had to play. Ron, who was the best wizard
Speaker 1: chess player Harry had ever known, took charge without hesitation.
Speaker 1: He assigned Harry, Hermione, and himself two three of the
Speaker 1: white pieces. Harry became a bishop, Hermione became a rooke,
Speaker 1: and Ron himself took the place of a night. The
Speaker 1: game was brutal. The pieces did not hesitate. They smashed
Speaker 1: each other with terrible force, sending chips of stone flying
Speaker 1: across the board. The sound of stone on stone echoed
Speaker 1: through the chamber, like the cracking of ice on a
Speaker 1: frozen lake. Ron directed the play, calling out moves with
Speaker 1: the confidence that Harry had never seen in him before.
Speaker 1: He was brilliant. He saw the board the way a
Speaker 1: General Caesar battlefield, reading the positions, calculating the risks, knowing
Speaker 1: exactly when to advance and when to retreat. But as
Speaker 1: the game wore on, Ron realized something. The only way
Speaker 1: to win was to sacrifice himself. He told Harry and
Speaker 1: Hermione what to do next, his voice steady and calm,
Speaker 1: and then he stepped forward into the path of the
Speaker 1: White Queen. The Queen's stone arms swept down and Run
Speaker 1: was knocked flat on his back. He lay still. He
Speaker 1: did not get up. Harry and Hermione rushed to his side,
Speaker 1: but there was no time. The game was over. They
Speaker 1: had won. The Black King tipped his crown in surrender,
Speaker 1: and the remaining Black pieces stood aside. Run lay on
Speaker 1: the cold stone floor, dazed but alive. His sacrifice had
Speaker 1: opened the door to the next chain. The next room
Speaker 1: was easy. A full grown mountain troll lay on the
Speaker 1: floor unconscious. It was enormous, the sign of a small truck,
Speaker 1: and it smelled terrible. Someone had already dealt with it.
Speaker 1: They stepped over it quickly, not wanting to be there
Speaker 1: when it woke up, and moved on. The room after
Speaker 1: that was small and quiet. It smelled of old parchment
Speaker 1: and candle wax. A table stood in the center, and
Speaker 1: on it were seven bottles of different shapes and sizes,
Speaker 1: each containing a different colored liquid. One was deep red
Speaker 1: like wine, another was bright blue, like the summer sky.
Speaker 1: A third was clear like water. Behind the bottles, a
Speaker 1: black fire blocked the way forward. The flames were dark
Speaker 1: and cold and silent, and they gave off no heat.
Speaker 1: And behind Harry and Hermione, a purple fire blocked the
Speaker 1: way back. They were trapped. It was a logic puzzle,
Speaker 1: a riddle. There was a scroll on the table, and
Speaker 1: Hermione read it aloud, her voice soft and steady. The
Speaker 1: riddle told them that one bottle would get them safely
Speaker 1: back through the purple fire, one bottle would get them
Speaker 1: forth through the black fire. Three of the bottles held poison,
Speaker 1: and two of the bottles held plain water. There were
Speaker 1: only enough instructions to tell them which was which. Hermione
Speaker 1: worked it out. It took her a few minutes, her
Speaker 1: brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as she
Speaker 1: sought it through the logic. She was very clever, and
Speaker 1: logic puzzles were her favorite thing in the world. After
Speaker 1: reading and being right, she figured out which bottle was which,
Speaker 1: and she gave Harry the smallest bottle, which would take
Speaker 1: him forward through the black fire. She took the round one,
Speaker 1: which would take her back through the purple fire, so
Speaker 1: she could go and help run, But there was only
Speaker 1: enough for one person to go forward. The bottle was
Speaker 1: very small, barely a mouthful. Harry would have to face
Speaker 1: whatever was behind the black fire alone. He drank the potion.
Speaker 1: It was icy cold, as though he had swallowed liquid winter.
Speaker 1: The cold spread through his body from his throat to
Speaker 1: his chest to his finger tips, and then he stepped
Speaker 1: through the black fire. The flames did not burn, They
Speaker 1: felt like nothing at all, like walking through a curtain
Speaker 1: of darkness. And on the other side was a room
Speaker 1: he had seen before. It was the mirror of aarree,
Speaker 1: the same mirror he had found at Christmas in an
Speaker 1: unused class room, the same mirror that showed you the deepest,
Speaker 1: most desperate disase of your heart. It was tore and ornate,
Speaker 1: with a cold frame and clawed feet, and it stood
Speaker 1: in the center of the room, glowing faintly in the darkness.
Speaker 1: But to night it was different. Tonight, someone else was
Speaker 1: in the room, someone who had been expecting him. Professor Quarrel,
Speaker 1: the stuttering, nervous, turban wearing defense against the Dark Heart's teacher.
Speaker 1: Except he was not stuttering. Now he was calm. He
Speaker 1: was cold. His voice was different, harder, as though he
Speaker 1: were speaking with someone else's mouth. He stood before the mirror,
Speaker 1: his face pale and set, his eyes glittering in the
Speaker 1: dim light. Quarrel stood before the mirror and asked it
Speaker 1: to show him where the stone was, but the mirror
Speaker 1: did not respond. It showed him only himself, standing alone
Speaker 1: in the dark room, and he cursed in frustration. Then
Speaker 1: he turned to Harry and forced him to stand before
Speaker 1: the mirror. Harry looked into the mirror, and he saw himself,
Speaker 1: but the mirror Harry was different. It smiled at him,
Speaker 1: a gentle, encouraging smile. The mirror Harry reached into its
Speaker 1: pocket and pulled out a small, blood red stone the
Speaker 1: size of a walnut, glowing faintly in its palm. Then
Speaker 1: it mine, dropping the stone into its other pocket, and
Speaker 1: Harry felt something cool and heavy drop into his real pocket,
Speaker 1: the Philosopher's Stone. He had it, He had it in
Speaker 1: his pocket, warm and real and solid. But Quirrel did
Speaker 1: not know. And then Quirrel did something terrible. He unwound
Speaker 1: his turban, slowly, deliberately, and there on the back of
Speaker 1: his head was another face, a face that was chalk white,
Speaker 1: with red eyes that burned like embers, and slits for
Speaker 1: nostrils like a snake, a face that Harry had seen
Speaker 1: before in his nightmares, in the shadows of his dreams,
Speaker 1: the face of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort spoke through Quarrel's mouth,
Speaker 1: his voice a thin, cold whisper, like the rustle of
Speaker 1: dead leaves. He told Harry that he had been living
Speaker 1: like a parasite on the back of Quarrel's head all year,
Speaker 1: feeding on him, directing him, keeping him alive. He told
Speaker 1: Harry to give him the stone. Harry refused. Quarrel tried
Speaker 1: to seize him, but the moment his hand touched Harry's skin,
Speaker 1: his flesh blistered and burned, as though Harry were made
Speaker 1: of something too hot to hold. Quarrel screamed. Harry grabbed
Speaker 1: Quarrel's face, and wherever Harry touched him, the skin crumbled
Speaker 1: and burned and turned to ash. It was agonizing for
Speaker 1: both of them. Harry's scar was searing with pain, hot
Speaker 1: line of fire across his forehead, and his head felt
Speaker 1: as though it was splitting in two. But he held on.
Speaker 1: He held on until the world went dark and quiet,
Speaker 1: and still Harry woke in the hospital, wing white sheets,
Speaker 1: right sunlight streaming through tall winter, a smell of medicine
Speaker 1: and flowers. Dumbledore was sitting beside him, looking at him
Speaker 1: over his half moon spectacles with a gentle, twinkling expression.
Speaker 1: The old wizard smiled, and his blue eyes were kind.
Speaker 1: Dumbledore explained everything. Quarrel had been unable to touch Harry
Speaker 1: because of his mother's love. Lily Potter had died to
Speaker 1: save her son, and that sacrifice had left a mark
Speaker 1: on Harry, a protection so deep and so ancient that
Speaker 1: no dark magic could penetrate it. It was in his skin,
Speaker 1: in his very being, a shield that had been there
Speaker 1: since the night his parents died. The stone had been destroyed.
Speaker 1: Nicholas Flamel and his wife had agreed that it was
Speaker 1: for the best. They had lived long enough, and for
Speaker 1: them death was but the next great adventure. And Ron
Speaker 1: and Hermione he were both fine. Harry asked the one
Speaker 1: place and he had been carrying all year while Vardemont
Speaker 1: had tried to kill him as a baby, and Dumbledore,
Speaker 1: with the sadness that Harry did not quite understand, told
Speaker 1: him that he would know one day when he was ready,
Speaker 1: and that was that. The year was over. The adventure
Speaker 1: was done. Gryffindor won the House Cup thanks to the
Speaker 1: last minute points Dumbledore had awarded to Harry, Ron, Hermione,
Speaker 1: and Neville. The Great Hall erupted in cheers, the banners
Speaker 1: turned scarlet and gold, and the feast was magnificent. Hogwarts
Speaker 1: went back to its usual rhythms. The sun shone on
Speaker 1: the grounds, the lake sparkled in the light. The Forbidden
Speaker 1: forest stood quiet and dark in the distance. Three very brave,
Speaker 1: very tired children boarded the Hogwarts Express and went home.
Speaker 1: And now, my dear listener, it is time for you
Speaker 1: to rest as well. You have traveled with Harry through
Speaker 1: the trap door, past Fluffy and the Devil's Snare, through
Speaker 1: the flying keys and the chest set passed the troll
Speaker 1: and the potion's riddle, and into the room with the mirror.
Speaker 1: You have heard the story, and now it is time
Speaker 1: to let it all go. Just close your eyes. Let
Speaker 1: the sounds of Hogwarts fade away, the crackling fire in
Speaker 1: the common room, the distant footsteps in the corridor, the
Speaker 1: creak of old stone settling in the night. Let it
Speaker 1: all dissolve into darkness and silence. There is no rush.
Speaker 1: We have all night, and to morrow, when you are ready,
Speaker 1: we will begin again. But for now, just sleep. Good night.