The end of term loomed near, but the tension at Hogwarts could have sliced through steel. While most students focused on exams and daydreams of summer, a select few were preparing for something far more dangerous.
Lennon, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered every evening to piece together what they could about the protections guarding the Philosopher's Stone. With help from some subtle questions directed at their professors and careful eavesdropping, they had uncovered several layers: Fluffy, the three-headed dog Hagrid owned; a deadly plant known as Devil's Snare; an enchanted swarm of flying keys; and a massive wizard's chessboard.
And then, Dumbledore left the school.
A sudden and unexplained summons to the Ministry of Magic had drawn him away. Lennon felt it immediately—like a cord had been severed from the castle's core. Whatever protection his presence offered was now gone.
That night, Harry's suspicions boiled over. "He's going after the Stone. Tonight."
Hermione looked scared, but nodded. "It's the only chance he'll get while Dumbledore's away."
Ron stood, resolute. "Then we go tonight too."
Lennon looked between them. "We don't get second chances. Once we're in, there's no turning back."
Harry looked up at her. "You with us?"
She didn't hesitate. "Always."
---
The corridor leading to the forbidden third-floor room was deserted. Lennon led the way, wand gripped tight. Fluffy was already asleep, a harp playing a soft, lulling tune beside the door.
"Someone's already here," she whispered.
They approached quietly. Lennon carefully lifted the trapdoor. The smell of damp earth rose from below.
"One at a time," she said, and leapt.
They landed in a thick, clutching mass of greenery—Devil's Snare.
Ron cried out as the plant began to wind around him.
"Relax!" Hermione yelled. "It tightens when you struggle!"
Lennon kept still, whispering calming words to Harry while Hermione conjured flames, forcing the plant to recoil. They tumbled out, gasping.
"One down," Lennon said, pulling Ron to his feet.
Next came the room of keys. Hundreds of winged keys buzzed in the air, like a humming swarm of daggers. A lone door stood on the other end.
"It's a test of skill," Lennon said, eyeing the brooms.
Harry mounted one instantly, eyes scanning the sky.
"There!" he shouted. "That silver one—its wings are bent!"
With a daring dive and Lennon covering from below, Harry caught the key. They shoved it into the lock and burst through.
They were barely through when they entered the chess room. Giant pieces loomed over a vast board.
"We'll have to play," Ron said, stepping forward. "As pieces."
He, Harry, and Lennon took their places, while Hermione stayed back to observe. The game was brutal—every move precise, every mistake punished by the clash of stone.
Ron eventually realized the only way to win was to sacrifice himself.
"No!" Lennon shouted. "We'll find another—"
"We don't have time!" Ron said. "Go! End this!"
With a powerful crash, the knight struck Ron, knocking him unconscious.
Lennon knelt beside him for a moment, whispering a promise before rising to follow Harry and Hermione.
They reached the final chamber together, where Hermione stopped short.
"This is as far as I go," she said, eyes filled with fear and certainty. "I need to stay with Ron. Harry—you go. Lennon and I will hold the way back."
Lennon hesitated. "You shouldn't go alone."
Harry looked at her, the reflection of everything they'd endured in his eyes. "I have to."
And with that, he stepped into the final room.
---
Time passed slowly. Lennon helped Hermione drag Ron to safety before returning to the corridor outside the chamber.
She leaned against the stone wall, her thoughts turbulent.
Behind her, footsteps.
Mattheo emerged from the shadows.
"You went after it," he said.
Lennon stood straighter. "Harry's inside now. Alone."
Mattheo looked toward the door. "Then he'll face Quirrell. Or worse."
"You knew?" she asked.
"I suspected," he said. "He was the only one who never tried to stop you."
They stood in silence.
"If he comes back," Mattheo said, "he'll need all of us."
Lennon nodded. "Then help us. For real."
He met her gaze. "For real."
---
When Harry finally returned, pale and exhausted, Lennon caught him just before he collapsed.
"You did it," she whispered.
He nodded weakly. "He's gone. For now."
As they carried him back through the traps they had so bravely faced, the castle seemed to exhale—a long-held breath released.
But deep down, they all knew the fight was far from over.