Chapter Text
"Well," Padma said cheerfully, "It is a very nice shade of green."
"Makes you look a bit like a pear," Draco added.
Neville, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, sighed and looked down at his hands.
"You have to say who did it," Padma urged. "The professors won't stand for it."
"If I do they'll just do something worse," Neville said.
"Worse than dyeing you green?" Harry asked angrily.
"There are a lot of worse things, really," Draco said, a thoughtful look on his face. "It lacked imagination."
"Insult on injury," Harry pronounced.
"What?"
"He didn't even get pushed around by imaginative bullies," Harry explained.
"It's not like I just let them, you know!" Neville burst out. "I did try to get away! There were five of them!"
"Unfair, unimaginative bastards," Padma agreed. "It's not on."
"And they took my remembrall," Neville continued wrathfully. "The one Sirius made specially for me."
"We'll get you another one," Draco said, at the same time Harry declared "We'll get it back from them!"
"You really do look like a pear," Padma said, as the counter-spell began to take effect, and the original deep green began to fade to a spotty mint-and-yellow.
"As soon as you get out you can sneak us into Gryffindor," Harry said. "I bet my cloak could fit three of us at least. We'll find your remembrall and do something really awful to their dormitory in the process."
"A whole jar of bile!" Draco said. "In their beds!"
"You will not," Neville said. "They'll know it was me."
"They'll know it was you anyway when you tell the professors," Padma said briskly.
"I'm not telling the professors! Next time they might not stop with changing my colour!"
"He's right, you know," Draco said. "We'll have to make it look like an accident."
"All right, children, Mr. Longbottom needs time to let his cure take full effect," said Madam Pomfrey, appearing behind them. "You can visit him again this evening after dinner. Run along now."
With a last regretful glance at Neville, the three of them followed Madam Pomfrey into the outer room of the hospital wing, away from the infirmary itself. Professor McGonagall was there, waiting with apparent impatience to be let in to see Neville.
"We could go do more research on the Philosopher's Stone," Padma suggested, as they walked down the corridor.
"Oh, blow the stupid Philosopher's Stone," Draco said suddenly. "We've done all the research we can and don't know a thing more about it than we did coming back after the hols. If they're hiding it here like Harry thinks, I'm sure it's for a bloody good reason."
"Yeah, but..." Padma bit her lip. "Someone's tried to get at it. Harry heard Snape and Filch talking about it."
"Well, if they have to get past Professor Snape to get to it, I think it's plenty safe," Draco sulked. "He could just scowl at them."
Padma opened her mouth to speak, then glanced around.
"I think we need to talk about that," she whispered. "Clearly the library's not safe anymore. Let's go outside."
Harry and Draco followed her dutifully down the stairway and out into the late-afternoon sunlight, across the damp grounds to the relative shelter of a large, lichen-covered rock. Draco scrabbled up onto the wide flat top, followed by Padma and Harry.
"What is it?" Harry asked, once they'd settled themselves. "It won't take long, will it? Dinner's in forty minutes."
"Listen, Harry..." Padma bit her lip, then forged ahead. "I think we need to consider the idea that Professor Snape might be the one who's trying to get the Stone."
"No we don't," Harry said flatly, "cos he isn't."
"Just hear me out? Professor Snape's the one who got attacked by the big dog you and Draco found on the third floor. You said yourself you helped him with his dog bite. He's the one who's been doing all the research on the Philosopher's Stone, and he's the one who was talking to someone else about it. We know he was awake the night the unicorn was attacked because he caught you coming back from it." Padma swallowed. "And one of the people who attacked it was tall enough -- "
"It's not. Professor. Snape," Harry said.
"Harry, I know you like him, but -- "
"It's not him."
"She has a point," Draco said. Harry turned to him, and Draco almost fell backwards.
"What do you know about it?" he asked.
"Well, I know everything Padma knows," Draco said quietly. "And I know that Professor Snape knew my dad."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Harry demanded.
"His dad's in Azkaban, Harry," Padma remined him gently. "Because he was a follower of You-Know-Who."
"Professor Snape is not -- "
"But what if he is, Harry?" Padma asked. "Everything points to him. You know what the Philosopher's Stone is. How many people do you know who'd pass up a chance at that? And he's a Slytherin, and even you can't deny Slytherins are supposed to be ambitious. Even if he doesn't want it for himself, there's a chance he could want it because -- well, nobody knows that You-Know-Who is actually dead..."
Harry scowled. "It isn't Professor Snape. Neville would agree with me."
"Neville's been dyed green by his own housemates, he's not exactly the best judge of character," Draco said. Harry was about to retort when Padma put a hand on his arm.
"Even if it is him there's nothing we can do right now," she said. "All I'm saying is that we ought to keep an eye on him. There's nine weeks until exams, and if he hasn't done anything by then, we'll say we're sorry and admit we were wrong, won't we, Draco?"
"I hope it's not him," Draco said. "I really do, Harry."
Harry, who in his heart was not quite as sure as he'd declared himself to be, nodded and held out his hand. The other two shook it, and then they all turned back to the school, trudging up the hill to a dinner that none of them really had the stomach for.
***
Between Quidditch practice, their new duties bodyguarding Neville, and their reluctant surveillance of Snape, the time passed quickly. Neville had refused to give up the names of the students in question and the resulting loss of seventy-five points hit Gryffindor hard, but Harry made arrangements with the twins to watch Neville when he, Padma, and Draco couldn't, and no further harm came to him.
Ravenclaw played Slytherin the week after Easter holidays, and although Marcus Flint told Harry to draw it out as long as possible so that the Ravenclaws could cover the points needed to beat out Gryffindor for Cup contenders, the Ravenclaw Seeker would have snatched the Snitch and won the game if he didn't get it first, and thus Ravenclaw lost one hundred and fifty to twenty. Harry took a shouting-at from Flint over it, but most of the school agreed it would be more interesting to see Gryffindor and Slytherin in Cup contention anyway. Harry's nightmares about what he'd seen in the mirror slowly abated, to be replaced by anxiety dreams about not being able to find his Nimbus, or the Snitch being greased so that he couldn't get his fingers around it.
There was also, of course, the plot to steal Neville's remembrall back. McGonagall had written to the Tonkses about the bullying, and Sirius, who had been in the kitchen when the letter was opened, sent off another prototype the same day. Still, it wasn't the same and they all knew it.
"It's got to be vicious," Harry said finally. "So that even when they find out it's us, they won't do anything."
"How does that make us any better than them?" Padma asked.
"We're doing it to people who can fight back," Draco replied. "Besides, I don't care if we're better than them, just scarier."
Padma and Neville, sitting across from Harry and Draco at their usual early-morning breakfast, looked slightly dismayed. Neville twiddled the new remembrall-bracelet on his wrist, anxiously.
"They dyed him green," Harry said. "Listen, if we do it near end-of-term, and we scare them badly enough, they'll have all summer to think about what they did and what we can do to them."
"But we don't have to hurt them, right?" Neville asked hesitantly.
"Nobody said anything about hurting anyone," Harry said, as Snake, recently out of hibernation, peeped out from the collar of his shirt. "We just want them to think we could hurt them, if they dyed you green again."
"Fine," Padma said, "but we all have to agree on what we do before anyone does anything. I'm not going to risk detention to do something I don't approve of just because you two took Ender's Game a little too seriously."
"That was a brilliant book and you know it," Harry retorted. "All right. So we'll come up with ideas and you can say yea or nay as appropriate."
"No," Padma said, "First we'll eat, and then we'll go to class, and then we'll study because exams are only six weeks away, and then, if we have time, we'll come up with ideas together, the four of us."
"Prefects coming," Neville grunted, and he, Padma, and Draco rose as one, spreading to their respective tables. Harry fed a little fried-egg to Snake, and watched the Gryffindor table as students began trickling into the Great Hall. Neville had pointed out the students he'd seen clearly, and Harry's green eyes tracked them as soon as they came in.
"Psyching out the competition, Potter?" Flint asked as he passed.
"Working on his thousand-yard stare," Blaise answered, seating himself across from Harry and giving him a grin. "Ready for the big game, eh?"
Harry summoned a smile in return as Blaise poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.
"Going to show them what happens when you tangle with Slytherin House," he agreed.
***
Exams began to loom large on the horizon by the time Harry had concocted a plan that would please Padma and satisfy Draco's desire to terrorise the Gryffindors. It was low-risk, high-yield, and, while not as public as they would have liked, guaranteed to be the talk of the school. Harry felt he was living up to his godfather's reputation as school prankster quite nicely.
The professors, distracted by the fifth and seventh year students who would be taking their OWL and NEWT exams, left the younger children much to their own devices, with broad hints about the exam's content and review sessions conducted mainly by Ravenclaw sixth-year teachers' aides. Padma made them go to every single one, even the repeat ones. Neville seemed to be struggling along even with the repeats, and Padma decreed they would all make flashcards; they weren't as fancy as the ones Remus and Sirius used to make to quiz Harry with, where the card actually flashed when you got the answer right, but they were still useful -- especially when Harry and Draco wrote naughty limericks on theirs and shuffled them in with Neville's. After all, Draco was only having trouble with Transfiguration (as usual) and Harry's main weakness was Charms, which flashcards wouldn't help much on anyhow.
It helped, too, that each Head of House, consciously or not, wanted their own students to do best, and would drop more hints to their particular House. Swapping notes, Harry informed them that Professor Snape was more than likely to make them brew a Forgetfulness potion, while Neville insisted that Professor McGonagall was going to give them rodents to be transfigured, though he didn't know what she'd make them produce.
The written papers were far more intimidating, really, since there was less room for error; they were marched into a large classroom, given new quills with anti-cheating charms on them, and set to writing essays from a list of questions on the large blackboard at the front. After doing that for a day, the practicals began to look like a relief.
"I say we do it tomorrow night," Harry said, as they were pretending to study in the library after their first day of practicals. Draco was sulking because he hadn't been given a rodent at all in Transfigurations; he'd been given a magpie and made to transfigure it into five silver sickles, and had barely managed it. Neville was nursing a bite from his rodent, which had nevertheless made an adequate leather cigarette case, and Padma was agonising over whether she had made the Forgetfulness potion strong enough, since after Professor Snape made her sample some she couldn't remember brewing it at all. Harry had gotten through the day uninjured, but he feared that in his Charms practical his pineapple hadn't tapdanced as it was supposed to; it seemed more inclined to waltz.
"Tomorrow night?" Padma asked, looking up from the big textbook on potions she was studying. "Why then? Day after tomorrow we've got our History of Magic exam, and it's another written one."
"Yeah, but the fourth-years all have their Potions final, and it'll be fun sending them off to Snape all upset and scared," Draco said with a grin. "Plus it gets hot down there, and they won't even be able to loosen the collars of their robes."
"But we have to study," Padma objected. "Don't we, Neville?"
Neville gave the other boys a reluctant look. "It would help," he said. "I've not got a clue about the 1635 Werewolf Code of Conduct."
"1637," Padma and Harry corrected.
"It won't take that long. We can study all evening, since they won't go to bed forever anyhow, and then once they're in bed we'll just nip up, do what we came to do, and scoot off to sleep," Draco said. "I'll pretend I'm studying with Neville, and Harry can use his cloak to fetch Padma."
Padma looked reluctant, but there was really no reason to object; besides, Harry had seen a mischievous gleam in her eye once or twice that told him she would, at least, consider their prank a testament to their magical knowledge. Sort of a final practical.
They spent the rest of the evening in much better spirits, went to bed with light hearts, and though the following day was exhausting, exchanged knowing looks over dinner. Neville and Draco went off after the meal to study in the common room, aided -- or perhaps distracted -- by the Weasley twins plus Ron, who were testing out a new Exploding Snap game that involved spiritedly attempting to blow up one's opponent. Padma vanished into the library where she would later be collected by Harry, who went quietly and unobtrusively to his room to spend the evening helping Snake shed his skin.
Soon the school year would be over, he reflected, as he waited for the other boys in the dormitory to fall asleep. There was one final day of exams, a week of waiting during which they'd play the Cup match, and then the scores would be posted and they'd have the Leaving feast. Harry and Neville were going back to London for the summer, and Padma's parents were taking their family to see her great-gran in Agra. Draco was quietly desperate not to go back to the Malfoy mansion, but there was nothing to be done, and so he was giving Harry a sealed-up box of his private things to keep for him until they came back to school.
Harry waited until Theo was snoring, a sure sign everyone else had gone to sleep, and then crawled out of bed, taking the cloak from his trunk and wrapping it around his shoulders. Snake, sleeping in his box on the nightstand, hissed a sleepy query, and Harry told him to go back to sleep. He hesitated over whether or not to go barefoot, and finally settled for pulling a large pair of socks on over his trainers.
Padma was waiting for him in the library, hidden in a reading niche that Madam Pince always missed while doing her lights-out check.
"Took you long enough," she whispered as she ducked under the cloak. "This place is creepy at night."
"It's just books," Harry answered, creeping rather more slowly now towards the stairs. It was difficult, managing the steps with two people under the cloak, but they made it to Gryffindor's portrait just as it swung open to reveal Neville's head, peering out.
"You there?" he asked softly.
"Who's that?" the Pink Lady demanded. Harry touched Neville's shoulder as they passed, and Neville startled but kept his head.
"Just Neville," he informed the portrait. "Have you seen Trevor?"
"I don't keep track of your silly pets," the Pink Lady replied grumpily.
"Thanks anyway," Neville answered, closing the portrait-hole again. Once in the Gryffindor common room, Harry peered around to make sure it was just the four of them before shedding the cloak.
"Nearly gave me a heart attack, touching me without warning," Neville scolded.
"Sorry. She'd have heard me if I'd said anything," Harry replied unrepentantly. "I've brought the paint. You bring the other stuff?"
Neville gave them a downright wicked grin and held up a bag made of black cloth. "Nicked them from Hagrid's tack-trunk early this morning. They still stink." He opened the bag and a waft of foul, animal-smelling air floated out.
"All right. We'll do the boys first, then send Padma up to deal with the girl," Harry decided. "Draco, you paint."
"Why me?" Draco asked, accepting a small pot of green paint from Harry's pocket. He produced a brush he'd nicked from one of the more artistically inclined Hufflepuffs, twiddling it between his fingers.
"Because you've got the best handwriting, and Padma's going to be the one looking for Neville's remembrall."
Draco muttered rebelliously, but shoved the paint-pot in his pocket. They all looked at Padma, who bit her lip and accepted the cloak from Harry.
"Follow me up," she whispered. "I'm going to cast the spell and then I'll give the signal for you to come inside the room."
They crept quietly up the stairs to the fourth-floor boys' dormitory, and Padma eased the door open. Harry couldn't see her, but he knew she was checking to make sure everyone was asleep. He saw a ripple of fabric for a moment; without taking off the cowl, she'd produced a packet of powder from her trouser pockets and tapped it out onto her hand.
The powder suddenly dissolved in the air, flying away as if a breeze had caught it, and Harry counted ten, fifteen, thirty, sixty under his breath before Padma shed the cowl and gestured them inside.
"That'll keep them asleep for at least three hours," she said. "You could stampede elephants through this room and they wouldn't wake up, but I'd better keep an eye on it. Work fast," she finished, as she began digging through nightstands and trunks, looking for the remembrall bracelet.
The boys ran to the first bed and gave each other a final look before setting to work. Draco pulled the blankets down to waist-level and studied the problem of how to get the boy's pyjama shirt up at least high enough to paint properly; finally he settled for slipping the brush under the t-shirt and doing rather sloppy work. Harry and Neville, meanwhile, took one of the wide leather dog-collars Hagrid sometimes used to catch kneazles with and slid it carefully under the sleeping boy's neck, buckling it in place.
"Did you do the charm?" Harry asked Neville, who gulped and nodded.
"They should be un-removable for almost a day," Neville said. "I hope they work, otherwise they'll be stuck there forever."
"I hope they get stuck," Draco said, as much to his surprise as theirs. "I'm done, how're you two doing?"
"Almost there," Harry said, checking the buckle. "What'd you paint?"
He craned his neck to see, and gave Draco a disappointed look. "Pet? That's the best you could come up with?"
"It's hard to paint under a t-shirt!" Draco protested.
"All right, let's do the next one -- no, not him," Harry said, as they went to the second bed. "He wasn't involved, was he Nev?"
"No," Neville said. "And I only brought five collars. He was, though," he said, pointing to the third bed.
"Oh, and he's shirtless too," Draco grinned maliciously. "I could write an epic poem on him."
He settled for "Slytherin Owns You" which was all he could manage in the time it took Harry and Neville to fix the collar. "Pet Gryffindor" and "Property Of Salazar Slytherin" followed in short order.
"Careful," Harry warned. "Don't get any on your hands, it doesn't wash off."
"I know, you told me," Draco answered, annoyed.
"Aha!" Padma said triumphantly, and they saw her flash the bracelet. "He was keeping it in his shoes, the disrespectful beast," she said, kicking the bed that the second boy -- "Pet Gryffindor" -- was sleeping on.
"Oh, ta, Padma," Neville said, accepting the bracelet. "Phew. I think I'll wash it before I put it on again. How long does this paint take to wear away?" he inquired, checking the buckle on the last victim. Draco, in a fit of creativity, drew a little snake on the one they'd just done, who had a button-down shirt that was easily opened.
"About two weeks," Harry said with a satisfied air. "Less if you wash with vinegar every day."
"All done?" Padma asked, as Draco sealed the paint pot and Neville tied up the bag again. They nodded. "Up to me now."
"What're you gonna write on her?" Draco asked excitedly.
"I don't think that would be proper," Padma replied, and gestured at her own chest. The boys blushed slightly. "Don't worry, though, I know all about miss Elaine Brocklehurst. She'll scream louder than the boys when she finds out I painted snakes on her hands and dyed all her shoes green."
"Brilliant," Neville said approvingly.
"You three wait for me near the portrait-hole. If someone comes down, they won't see you," Padma said, and pulled the cloak around her shoulders again, literally vanishing into the stairwell.
The boys took one last look around.
"I wish we could take pictures," Draco said.
"Too much evidence," Harry replied. "Padma's leaving the paint bottle in the girls' dormitory so that we don't get caught with it," he added, as they began to wind their way cautiously down to the common room. "Neville, maybe you'd better stay with one of us tonight."
"That'd be like...an admission of guilt," Draco answered.
"Yeah, but they can't prove anything, and they'll know it was us anyhow, since the bracelet's gone," Harry answered. "I mean. Better an unprovable admission of guilt than a broken arm or something, right?"
"Do you think they'd break my arms?" Neville asked in a high, nervous voice.
"Not if you're sleeping in Hufflepuff tonight," Draco said. "We can say you walked me back to the dorm and fell asleep on the couch."
"Perfect," Harry replied.
Padma arrived in short order, rolling up the now-empty bag and tossing it on the fire, where a few quick words and a flick of her wand took care of the last of the evidence handily.
"Neville's sleeping in Hufflepuff tonight," Harry whispered, and she nodded.
"Maybe you ought to take me to Ravenclaw and then come back -- I don't think the cloak's going to hold four," she said doubtfully.
"Leave the portrait just a little bit open," Harry said to the other two boys. "I'll be back soon."
He ducked under the cloak with Padma and they made their slow, somewhat clumsy way towards the staircase to the Ravenclaw eyrie. A little over halfway there, they passed the fifth-floor room where they'd held their seance, and Padma's fingers gripped his arm under the cloak.
"Someone's in there," she said softly. Harry obediently turned into the room and saw a dark-cloaked figure vanishing down the staircase.
"Bugger," he whispered. "Bet you the dog eats him."
After a moment, however, when there were no screams forthcoming, Harry and Padma exchanged a look under the cloak and pressed forward, down the staircase that would lead to the three-headed-dog's lair.
Harry barely suppressed a gasp.
Professor Snape stood at the foot of the staircase calmly, playing a silver penny-whistle. In front of him, the dog was swaying on its feet, clearly torn between attacking and taking a nap. Finally its legs buckled, and Snape didn't miss a beat as it fell to the floor with a thud. All three heads began snoozing at once, and Snape continued to play one-handed as he bent to lift a platform in the floor, behind the dog.
Harry watched in horror as Professor Snape tossed the whistle aside -- it clattered down against the bottom step -- and slipped gracefully into the darkness below the trapdoor.
"Take the cloak," Harry said. "Go get Neville and Draco. You were right, he's gone after the stone -- "
"Sorry, Harry!" Padma said in distress as he shoved the cloak around her shoulders. She bolted up the stairs, and Harry eyed the dog fearfully. Another few steps and he'd be out of the safety of the stairs, but it did seem to be sleeping...
He padded down the stone steps, grateful now for the muffling socks over his shoes. The dog snorted. Harry bent and reached for the whistle. So far so good -- a little further --
The whistle, made of some kind of cheap tin, clattered against the step when he picked it up, and the dog woke with a start. Harry backpedaled desperately, and the dog's jaws -- all three of them -- clicked shut a bare six inches from his chest. He scrambled up the stairs to safety just as the other three returned and almost tripped on him.
"Snape's gone down there?" Draco asked, wide-eyed.
"Braver than I thought," Neville said. "We've got to do something -- warn someone -- "
"No-one's awake, and there's no time," Harry said. "We have to follow him."
"Follow him?" Padma demanded. "Are you insane?"
"Music puts the dog to sleep," Harry insisted.
"We can't stop him, he's a grown wizard!" Draco protested.
"He's Professor Snape," Neville added frantically.
"It'd be four against one," Harry said stubbornly. "Listen, I'm going. Follow me or don't."
He set his lips to the whistle and blew a sharp, shrill note. It wasn't very soothing, but the dog did stop snarling. It looked almost...surprised. Harry blew another one, clumsily, working his fingers at random on the stops. The dog tilted its heads and made a sort of querying noise.
"Let me," Padma said, as Harry whistled a third, even more dissonant note. She took the whistle from him and immediately began playing again; she wasn't much better, but at least it sounded a little like music.
As Padma played, the dog began to back away from the stairs, stumbling sleepily around the room. Harry advanced slowly, hearing the others follow, until he was almost all the way to the trapdoor. The dog finally threw itself down again and began to snore. Padma continued to play.
Harry lifted the trap and looked down into utter, complete blackness.
"We'll have to jump," he said. "If Snape can do it, so can we."
He saw Draco's frightened face and Neville's desperate nod and slid off the floor, down into darkness feet-first.
He landed with a soft thump and almost laughed with relief.
"It's an easy landing!" he called up. "Come down!"
He heard Draco and Neville come down in the dark, and then the whistle stopped playing as Padma followed.
"Lumos," Harry muttered, and the end of his wand lit up the gloom.
"Argh!" Draco cried. "It's plants! They're moving!"
Padma let out a tiny shriek. They were indeed sitting on a giant plant, a tangle of vines that were even now reaching out to twine around her ankles -- they'd already got a firm grip on Harry and Neville.
"What is it?" Harry shouted, as one of them wrapped around his chest. "Oh bloody -- "
"Devil's Snare!" Padma yelled back. Their shouts had woken the dog, and in addition to the panic of being trapped by vicious life-threatening plants, the dog was now growling and thumping on the trap-door Padma had closed behind her.
"How do we kill it?" Draco demanded.
"Wait, I know this!" Neville shouted. "We have to light a fire!"
"It's got my wand!" Draco shouted.
"Mine's stuck," Harry gasped.
"Padma, you've got to do it," Neville urged. Padma gripped her wand so tightly it shook, and pointed it at the plant. Fire shot from the end of her wand, nearly singeing Harry's clothing, but it worked -- the plant began to withdraw and cringe away from the heat. As it did so the tangle of vines became looser and looser until Harry fell through, landing on much-harder-stone with a slight oof. Draco, fortunately, landed on Harry, and Padma was able to jump through and help Neville climb down the vines.
"Ow," Harry said, as Draco's wand clattered down after them.
"Sorry," Draco answered. "Anything broken?"
"Don't think so," Harry replied, accepting a hand to help him to his feet. He looked up as the vines began to twine their way shut again over their heads. "Guess we have to go on now, don't we?"
"Or we might die here," Padma said.
"What?" Harry demanded. Padma pointed a shaking finger past him.
Professor Snape stood in the only doorway in the room.
"Oh bugger," Draco whispered.
"Children," Snape said slowly. He was staring directly at them, arms crossed over his chest. They stared back in terrified silence.
"We know what you're going to do!" Harry blurted, after a long moment. Snape lifted an eyebrow. "You're going to steal the Philosopher's Stone!"
"Remarkably well-informed and yet still incorrect," Snape sighed. He dropped his arms and came into the dim room, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to speak quickly since I haven't much time. Someone else has gone in ahead of me and I am in pursuit. Do you understand?"
They nodded, eyes wide.
"Good. Now. I don't know what you were doing out of bed at this time of night and I do not care, but you will stay put until the matter is resolved. You will not follow me and you will not cause trouble. Do you understand that?"
"We won't stay," Harry said.
"We'll help you," Neville added, then looked shocked at his own audacity.
"No, children."
"We'll follow you whether you want us to or not," Padma said desperately. It sounded as though she was less eager to follow than she was to escape the Devil's Snare.
"I could, of course, petrify the lot of you, but I prefer not to commit violence against students," Snape replied. "All evidence to the contrary."
"Then the Devil's Snare will get us," Harry pointed to where the plant was already reaching thin tendrils towards them, and Draco jumped back. "How dangerous could it be to go with you?"
Snape gave him a thin smile. "How dangerous, Harry? Do you know how many traps have been placed in front of the Stone's chamber? You've survived two by sheer idiot luck, but there are many more, I assure you. Don't believe me?"
He gestured through the doorway, and the children gathered around to peer through.
On the other side of a short corridor was a high-ceilinged room filled with what looked like tiny mechanical birds.
"Keys," Snape said succinctly. "One of them opens that door. Which one, and how to catch it -- HARRY!"
Harry had darted through the passage and picked up a broomstick lying near the entrance. He was aloft before Snape could stop him.
"I saw it!" he cried, as Snape shouted at him to come down at once. He had seen a silver key, matching the motif of the lock, with one slightly-bent wing. He darted after it, through all the other soaring keys, occasionally batting one away when it hit his face or chest. He heard Snape's shouts and the other childrens' cheers as he dodged through the mess of keys towards his goal. Almost there -- his fingers outstretched -- it was just like catching the Snitch --
His hand closed around the key and the wings beat fiercely against his palm as he descended, only to be grasped by the collar of his shirt the minute he touched the ground.
"If you ever -- " Snape began, shaking him like a puppy, but Neville and Padma caught his arm and he stopped, releasing Harry suddenly. Harry, terrified of the rage in the Potion Master's eyes, clutched the key tightly.
"Give me the key, Harry," Snape said coldly.
"You're welcome," Harry answered angrily, placing the key in his hand. Snape unlocked the door with a quick, violent movement and threw it wide. At the same moment, the doorway back to the room with the Devil's Snare in it slammed shut.
"Go, then," Snape ordered, waving them through. "Clearly you can't be trusted with a broomstick in a room full of potential targets."
They trailed in, chastised, and Snape followed. Again the door slammed shut behind them. Before them stood a huge chessboard, lined with life-sized chess pieces made of black and white stone.
"McGonagall," Snape said with a sigh. "Such a show-off."
"What do you mean?" Padma asked, turning to look at him. He gestured at the chessboard.
"Several professors were asked to build traps into the passageway to the Stone's chamber. Dumbledore felt it would be...fun," he said, with a slight sneer. "Flitwick, myself, McGonagall, Sprout, Quirrell -- plus that outrageously bad-tempered dog above, and a final puzzle Dumbledore built himself. We weren't told what the others were doing, but this," he said, "Reeks of Gryffindor showmanship."
Neville looked annoyed at this, but said nothing.
"What do we do now?" Harry asked.
"We do nothing," Snape replied. "You four will remain here, and I will play my way across the board. And when all this is quite finished, Harry, I will see to it that the four of you serve detentions for your entire second year."
Snape stepped onto the board and, after careful consideration, took the place of a bishop, which left the board when he touched it. He waited patiently for white to move; nothing happened.
"Infuriating woman," Snape said, with feeling. "We all have to play."
Harry grinned at the others. "Where would you like us, Professor?" he called.
"Longbottom and Patil, rooks please -- no. Longbottom, take the end pawn in front of Miss Patil. Malfoy, queen-side knight. Harry..." Snape seemed to consider. "Here, next to me. The other knight."
As soon as the last piece had disappeared to the sidelines, replaced by Harry, a white pawn moved forward.
"Professor," Harry said hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Do you even play chess?"
Snape smiled slightly. "Your trust in me can clearly move molehills, Har -- "
He nearly stumbled then, as something seemed to strike him in the head; Harry moved towards him as he pressed one hand to his temple, over the old scar-marks Peter had left on his face.
"No, don't move now -- you'll forfeit," Snape gasped. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, breathing deeply. Down the line, the other three looked terribly frightened.
"What's happened?" Harry asked, hearing the terror in his own voice.
Snape didn't answer; instead he called out an order, and one of the black pawns moved forward. Snape's ragged breathing filled the air as the white players seemed to consider, but by the time white had made its move, he was recovering from whatever spasm had shaken him.
"Who are we chasing, anyhow?" Padma asked, as she stepped forward on Snape's command.
"Quiet, Patil," Snape answered.
He gave an order which sent one of the pawns into danger. A white Knight swung at the pawn and shattered it with his lance, breaking it into tiny pieces. All four children stared wide-eyed as the wrecked pawn disappeared. After that none of them spoke.
Finally there came a long pause in the game, during which Snape appeared to be thinking especially hard. Harry had been playing chess since he was eight, Padma since she was five; Neville knew how, but didn't enjoy it. Draco, never having had anyone to play with, hadn't learned until Hogwarts, but he'd proved an apt enough pupil and sometimes even managed to defeat Harry if he focused hard enough.
"It's me," Draco said quietly.
"No," Snape replied sharply.
"You know it is. Sacrifice me and you'll have the king in two moves, it's the quickest way."
"I'm not going to let some fool invention of McGonagall's decapitate a student," Snape replied.
"I don't think it'll kill me," Draco said uncertainly.
"Regardless -- Malfoy, don't you dare!"
But Draco had already moved on his own. A white rook, towering over him, thrust a stone out from its side and knocked him flat violently.
"Draco!" Neville, heedless of Snape's order, stepped out of line to try and help his friend, and was tripped by a Knight, who thrust him back onto his square. There was a whimper of pain.
"Don't. Move." Snape's voice was like a whipcrack in the echoing chamber. Harry and Padma both nodded. "All right. Harry, forward, and take the bishop."
Harry stepped up to the white bishop and touched it; it turned at once and walked off the board.
"Doesn't seem fair, somehow," Padma murmured, staring at the two fallen boys -- Draco curled and huddling in the middle of the board, Neville gasping in pain over a deep cut on his leg.
"All right, Longbottom?" Snape called, as a white pawn moved forward in a desperate gambit to protect its king.
"All right, sir," Neville answered, though there were tears running down his cheeks. "Don't think I'm much good for walking."
"Serves you right. Miss Patil, four squares forward, please -- that's check and mate," Snape said, a trifle smugly. The white king toppled over backwards, shattering as he did so; the other pieces turned and walked off the board, vanishing into the darkness beyond it.
Snape immediately ran across the board, reaching Draco first; Harry and Padma bent over Neville, and Padma took one of Harry's shoe-socks, trying to stop the bleeding with it.
"Sorry it's not very hygenic," she said apologetically. Neville had buried his face in Harry's shirt and was trembling.
"He's breathing -- I don't think he's hurt badly, merely unconscious," Snape said, bending over Draco. He picked him up carefully and carried him to where the other three were huddled. "I warned you it was dangerous," he said, laying Draco down next to Neville.
"I can heal your leg, but it will take time to repair itself. You'll be more of a hindrance than a help if we bring you along," he informed Neville, who nodded and braced himself. He whimpered a little when Snape's hands touched him, but after a moment he sagged with relief and released his death grip on Harry's sleeve. The wound began, visibly but slowly, to heal itself.
"Patil, stay with them," he said. She gulped, and nodded. "If Malfoy comes round, keep him awake. Harry, come with me."
Harry rose obediently and followed Snape, picking his way over the rubble strewing the board. There was a door beyond the white king's square and Snape ducked through it, walking swiftly down the long tunnel.
"Why did you bring me along?" Harry asked, voice hushed. Snape lifted a torch from the wall as he passed.
"Because if we die, they might be able to get free, and if I die you can at least send someone back for them," Snape replied.
"Who are we chasing? You said you thought you knew," Harry said, unwilling to ask what would happen if only he died.
"Quirrell," Snape said tightly.
"Professor Quirrell? But -- "
"I've known for some time that he's been after the stone," Snape said, pressing the back of his hand to his temple as he walked. "Mind the pit."
Harry jumped quickly around a deep hole in one side of the corridor.
"I should have gone to Dumbledore sooner, but I had no evidence. He would have laughed -- he would have called it bitterness."
"Bitterness?"
"Quirrell has my job," Snape answered. "It's no secret among the faculty that I've sought the Dark Arts position several years running."
"And they won't give it to you?"
"It's cursed, didn't you know?"
"Then why would you want it?"
"Because I have a right to it!" Snape snarled, though he didn't stop walking. "And the board of governors refuses me, year after year. They suspect me."
"Of what?"
"What does it matter? I consorted with the wrong type of person, and have since paid the price."
"Lucius Malfoy," Harry whispered. "You knew him."
"Knew him. Yes. That's one way to put it," Snape said with a snort of wry laughter. "Young Mister Malfoy bears a striking resemblance to him. No self control, no sense of timing in the slightest."
"There wasn't any other way," Harry said. "I saw it too."
"I have been playing chess longer than you've been alive, Harry."
"There wasn't, though."
They emerged into a small room, and immediately both coughed and held their hands over their faces. A troll lay unconscious on the floor, snoring noisily.
"Quirrell's trap," Snape said, as Harry gagged and edged his way around the monster. The stench made his eyes water. "Brute force. Very much his way."
He gave a sharp tug on the door and shoved Harry through. When the door shut behind them Harry could finally breathe again, and he turned to see what new challenge awaited them.
"Ah," Snape said. "Almost over, then."
A row of bottles sat on a long table in front of them, from which hung a large sheet of paper with a poem on it in green ink. Purple fire roared up in the doorway behind them, and black flames in another one, beyond the table.
"This is my trap," Snape said, plucking up the smallest bottle as he spoke. "Unlike the unsubtle troll behind us, this relies on logic; something in short supply among wizards, as Longbottom proved. Drink," he said, holding it out to Harry. "Only half."
Harry stared at the potion for a moment, then sipped from the bottle. Snape upturned the rest into his own mouth as an icy sensation filled Harry.
"Walk quickly," Snape ordered, and Harry felt the Professor's hand on his shoulder as he stepped through the flame.
***
Remus woke from the dream with a yelp of panic, and almost fell off the bed. He caught himself on the nightstand, staggered upright, and stumbled into the bathroom, vomiting. Behind him, he heard Sirius call his name sleepily.
"In here," he said, cupping his hand under the faucet and bringing the water to his mouth to rinse out the taste of bile. He became aware that he was still breathing heavily only when he saw Sirius in the mirror, resting a hand on his back between his shoulder blades.
"Are you all right?" Sirius asked softly. "Dinner not agree with you?"
"No -- " Remus drank another handful of water, then accepted the glass Sirius pressed into his hand, filling it as he spoke. "A nightmare. I didn't mean to wake you."
"A nightmare?" Sirius asked. "Or one of the dreams?"
Remus calmed himself, comforted by the warm weight of Sirius' hand on his back. After a minute's thought, he drank the water in the glass, then set it down so hard it cracked.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Accident. Listen, we have to floo Dumbledore."
"Dumbledore?" Sirius asked.
"The dream. Something's gone wrong at Hogwarts. Harry's in danger."
"Danger? But it's -- "
"Sirius, please," Remus said, turning towards the doorway and almost falling. Sirius caught him under the arm, hauling him upright. "We have to tell someone. Now."
"All right, we'll go use Andromeda's floo. Tell me what you saw," Sirius said, as he helped Remus out into the bedroom and then through the living room, down the stairs to the flat on the floor below them.
"I didn't see it -- I was reading a letter from Dumbledore," Remus said. "It said that Harry'd been in an accident the night before -- that Peter had hurt him, and killed another student, that Harry was unconscious. Something's happening right now, tonight."
Sirius eased him into a chair, worry in every line of his face.
"I'm not hysterical," Remus insisted.
"I didn't say you were," Sirius replied, turning to light a flame in the empty fireplace. He threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and said, "Dumbledore" and then the old passcode, "Order Business," when it flared up slightly. He put his head into the fireplace and barked, "Dumbledore! Wake up!"
Remus, shakily, slid to the floor next to him and joined him in the flame. He could see Dumbledore's bedchamber, dim and dark, and a figure sitting up on the bed.
"Who's that?" Dumbledore's voice called out, hoarse with sleep.
"Sirius Black," Sirius called. "Remus is here too. He's had a dream."
Dumbledore rose and crouched on the hearthstones of his own fireplace. "A dream, my boy?"
"There isn't time to explain," Remus said. "Harry's in danger, possibly another student as well."
"Danger? At this time of night?"
"I don't know how, but he is," Remus insisted. "I'm coming through."
Dumbledore looked as though he was about to protest, but he sat back on his heels, giving them enough room to pass through the floo and onto his hearthstones. When they arrived, ash swirling around them, he stood and straightened the night-cap on his head.
"Now, what's all this about students in danger?" he asked.
"Something's happening. Tonight. Peter Pettigrew's involved somehow," Sirius said quickly.
"Pettigrew? Here?"
"Ask Snape," Remus said. "He'll believe us. He can check the dormitory and see if Harry's in bed."
Dumbledore, dubiously, put his head back into the fireplace and called Snape's name. After a moment, he stepped back.
"He's not in his rooms or office," he said quietly. Sirius, at the end of his rope, grabbed the headmaster by the front of his sleeping-robes.
"Where's he taken him?" he demanded.
Dumbledore's eyes flicked down to the hands grasping his clothing, then back up at Sirius' face. Sirius released him as though he'd been burned.
"I do not know where Professor Snape is, but undoubtedly he has his own reasons for being absent," Dumbledore said. "I -- "
He paused, then, and a thoughtful look crossed his face.
"Come with me," he said.
They followed him as he fetched up a dressing-gown off a chair and padded barefoot into his circular office, where a peculiar tray, oblong and apparently made of dark wood, rested near his desk. He waved his hand over it, and a series of walls grew up from the tray, along with what looked like the remains of a smashed chessboard, a tiny flock of birds, and a small planter, among other things.
"For the past year we have been protecting, at the request of Nicolas Flamel -- "
"Your old partner?" Remus asked.
"Indeed. The Philosopher's Stone. He intended to destroy it at the summer solstice, and until that time we felt strict security measures were necessary. Devil's Snare, a charmed lock and key, a chessb -- "
Dumbledore stopped and peered down at the chessboard. A trio of small, lifelike dolls were huddled on one off-centre square.
"Dear me," he murmured. "It looks as though several students have attempted to break through...come with me."
"I want to know -- "
"Do as I say, if you value your godson's life."
Sirius looked stricken, but allowed Dumbledore to lead them to a paneled wall. One of the paintings obediently swung open at his request to reveal a small cubbyhole containing a gold flask; he took it and stepped in front of the panel next to it, which drew back entirely.
They followed the headmaster down a spiral staircase that seemed to go on forever; they stopped, around the time Remus estimated they'd just passed ground level, and Dumbledore unlocked a door with a small, complicated key he produced from around his neck.
"It is as I feared," he said, when he opened the door.
***
On the other side of the flame, Harry found, was a wide staircase leading down to a large, echoing chamber. In the centre of the chamber stood a mirror with two men examining it, one tall and one short. Before he could help himself, he'd sucked in a startled breath -- that was the mirror called Y N I T S E D, and he could see the rolling fog inside it from where he stood.
A hand clapped over his mouth as soon as he'd made the noise -- Snape's hand, as the professor came through the flame behind him. Too late, however; the taller man in front of the mirror had turned.
Professor Quirrell's arm shot out, wand pointed directly at Harry's forehead.
"Move and you die," he said. "You move, Snape, and the boy suffers."
"Let him go, Quirrell," Snape said. Harry's eyes were on the other figure, who was pressing his hands to the golden stand as if exploring it -- leaving small smears of red wherever he touched, apparently ignoring the standoff going on nearby.
"So he can sound the alarm? I think not," Quirrell replied. "Besides, he'll be needed eventually."
Snape's fingers tightened over Harry's mouth.
"Needed for what?" he demanded.
"Just a little spell you once interrupted," answered a horrible, rasping voice, the voice of the other man in the room. He straightened and turned around.
"Pettigrew," Snape breathed.