Harry Potter and the Sorceress of the Stars

A head-splitting headache suddenly blotted out everything else. Who was she? What had she been doing just now? She felt as if it had been important. She looked on as Potter dropped a red crystal into her hands.

"Listen, this is the Philosopher's stone you wanted," he said urgently. "I'll distract Voldemort, while you run out through the fire. Give it to Dumbledore the moment you see him, got it?"

Confused, Oleandra nodded, then waited for Potter to create a distraction. "Wait, who was distracting who now?" she thought to herself. She looked at the scarlet stone in her hand curiously. "Hold on," she realized. "I'm in danger!"

"Dumbledore's already on his way!" Potter shouted. "Our friends have already sent him an owl, and he'll be back any second!"

"Master, what should we do?" asked Quirrell fearfully.

"Get the stone, it's your only chance of making it out of this alive," the voice hissed. "Block the exit, smoke them out of the trees. They'll have to come out or burn alive."

Quirrell took a deep breath, and prepared to cast the Fiendfyre curse. If he wasn't careful, the magical fire might also consume his own life, or even worse, damage the stone!

"Pestis Incendium!" he cried.

Meanwhile, within Oleandra's fevered mind, the runes seemed to be buzzing with joy. The Philosopher's stone, besides making certain impossible alchemical feats possible, was also an incredibly potent magical reactor, just like a dragon's heart. A certain idea, which she had begun to vaguely consider the moment she felt the runes react in the forbidden forest, began to take shape in her mind.

"Wunjo, Kenaz, Ansuz, Laukaz, Uruz, Elhaz, Raidhu, Eihwaz, Dagaz!" fervently, she called the runes' names one by one, looking as if she were dancing as her body contorted, forming all nine stances of the runic letters.

With Voldemort's help, the fire precisely turned each of the trees to ashes. She was exposed!

"Let the powers of the stars unite under my standard! I call upon the torch to guide the way. The all-power, the lake of magic, the gateway to the nine realms. Protect me on my journey through time and space, through the omnipresent world tree!" Oleandra finished her incantation. "Realm travel."

Quirrell watched in horror as the philosopher's stone shone brightly, then lost its vivid scarlet lustre, as it turned grey and dull, until finally it turned to dust, slipping through Oleandra's fingers. And then she was gone, as if the void had swallowed her whole.

"Impossible," Quirrell whimpered. "Hogwarts is completely warded against Apparition. How could this be!"

"Fool!" snarled the voice. "I am assuming control; I will at least kill the boy!"

Quirrell cried out as his neck turned 180 degrees, his hands removing his turban against his will, revealing the face of the Dark Lord!

Voldemort flew across the room, grabbing Potter by the neck.

Quirrell let out a scream of pain, his hands were smoking and blistering! Voldemort kept applying pressure, trying to strangle the poor boy, as his body's host shrieked. His body wasn't able to endure Potter's touch!

Potter fell unconscious, just as Quirrell's body turned into dust, as if a certain Mad Titan had snapped him out of existence. Furious, Voldemort spirit flew away, for there was little he could do without a body.

    Oleandra woke up with a start, feeling rather cold. Shivering, she gathered up her robes around her in an attempt to stave off the unearthly chill that permeated the air. It was getting dark, but not enough to impair her vision, though it was kind of misty. She looked around. There didn't seem to be anything for miles around her, except for sparsely distributed husks of trees. Where in the world could she be?

"Lumos!"

Oleandra didn't need the light to see, but to satisfy the conditions for the simple runic spell she was about to cast.

"Kenaz, I implore the torch to show me the way home!"

Here, the wand was supposed to emit a trail of light to guide her to where she needed to be, but nothing happened. Oleandra frowned. That was strange, nothing like this had ever happened before.

Oleandra tried all the runes that had observable effects, but nothing worked. But then, why had the Wand-Lighting spell worked?

Oleandra pointed her wand at a rock, saying, "Ducklifors!"

The rock turned into a duck, who started pecking at her shoelaces.

"How on earth did you do that?" said a voice behind her in amazement.

Oleandra whirled around, wand drawn. She was so startled she thought her heart would leap out of her throat. Where on earth had that muggle come from? When she had looked around, there had been nothing of note for leagues around, and she hadn't heard him come up to her! Though, at that moment, she had been very glad to see another human being, even You-Know-Who would have been a sight for sorry eyes!

"Ahem," she cleared her throat. "How did you get behind me so quietly? Who are you?"

"It's only polite to name oneself before asking another's name, young lady," the strange man said.

"Let's start over, shall we?" said Oleandra, not letting go of her wand. "My name is Oleandra Greengrass. And you are?"

"Ah," he said contritely. "I'm sorry, I don't rightly know. It's been a while since I've had to use it, so I forgot it, I suppose."

This wasn't the answer Oleandra had been expecting. Who forgets their own name, after all?

"Do you know where I might find the nearest phone booth? Or any trace of civilization, for that matter?" she asked.

"There's no such thing here," said the man, looking more and more interested in her by the minute. "My turn to ask questions. How did you turn that rock into a duck?"

Oleandra didn't know what to do. She had already broken the International Statute of Secrecy by doing magic in front of a muggle. Was she really going to worsen her case by actually explaining magic to him?

"It's a magic trick," she tried to explain away. "Nothing more. Is there anything of note nearby?"

"If you do some more magic tricks," he said, "then I'll be glad to show you the archway."

And so, the unlikely pair set off, with Oleandra occasionally shooting off red sparks into the air. On the way, they met plenty of other people, of all nationalities. She even saw a woman dressed in robes.

"Excuse me, you are a witch, are you not?" Oleandra asked nervously. "Where are we?"

"Niflheim," she replied. "We're all dead here."