PAGES: 287-287

After drinking the potion, Harry walks through the black flames, preparing to face the final challenge and possibly Lord Voldemort himself. He steels himself for what awaits, knowing that this moment could determine the fate of the Sorcerer's Stone and the future of the wizarding world.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.

“Here I come,” he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn’t feel them—for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire—then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there—but it wasn’t Snape. It wasn’t even Voldemort.