Chapter Three
Harry dozed in the corner of his cell, his head resting lightly on his chest. He didn't know how long the man had been gone. His stomach growled loudly, causing him to jerk awake yet again. What he wouldn't do for a bit of water. His mouth still tasted of blood and every time he moved a muscle on his face, dried blood would crack and fall off. He was miserable. Cold, thirsty, and he needed to relieve himself badly.
Moving gingerly, Harry pushed himself up and started groping around for the bucket, cradling his grossly injured arm to his chest. He wasn't happy about using a bucket, but that seemed to be the least of his worries. His fingers made contact with the cool metal and Harry realized yet another problem. He couldn't see the bucket well enough to aim. Begrudgingly, he lowered his trousers and sat down on the chilly metal.
After relieving himself, he stood up and began to try to maneuver his way back to the bench. With a hiss of pain, he lowered himself down on the wooden bench, thankful for something in the cell that wasn't terribly cold. His abdomen was puffy and tender to the touch. Reaching his good hand up, he gently touched his earlobe, only to draw his hand back quickly with a yelp of pain. It was grossly swollen and sensitive. He could feel his heart pounding on the entire right side of his head, radiating from the abused ear all the way down to his injured arm. One eye felt swollen above his tender cheek bone. He didn't dare try and touch is face; it hurt anytime he blinked. He was forced to breathe through his mouth, unable to get any air through his nose. It was definitely broken, Harry thought to himself. Dudley had been in a fight once and come home with a broken nose. The doctor had manually straightened the bones and packed his nose with gauze. Harry shuttered to think of anyone touching his nose right now. He could live with it a little crooked.
Harry's stomach grumbled again, and he ignored it. There was nothing for him to do except sit in the darkness and wait for Quirell to come back.
With a sigh, Harry realized he would almost rather be back at the Dursley's cooking their Saturday morning breakfast. His mind wandered back to a time when he was very young, before Dudley had decided to dedicate his life to making Harry miserable.
Harry sat in the living room floor, no more than 3 years old. His cousin sat beside him, rolling a big red dump truck back and forth through a beam of sunlight on the floor, giggling to himself. Petunia was outside pulling weeds from her flower garden, unaware of the interaction between the two boys. Harry reached out a skinny little hand to pick up a train from beside Dudley, gazing in wonder at the shiny green paint and little polished wheels. He had never played with Dudley before, and never in his life had he seen so many toys! Usually they remained in his cousin's room, but Vernon had moved everything out of his son's room to repaint the walls. It was a rare treat and Harry was enjoying every moment of it.
"We pretend my truck run over your train?" Dudley said, acknowledging Harry for the first time.
"Yeah, but your truck have to catch my train!" Harry said, wobbling to his feet as he rolled the train across the coffee table. Dudley squealed as he chased after him, rolling his truck along the same paths Harry took.
Harry rolled his train over the couch cushion, yelling, "all aboard!" over and over as his cousin chased him.
"Your train can't take people 'cuz it's gonna be squished!" Dudley called out, tackling the smaller boy from behind. Laughing, Harry rolled over his train protectively as his cousin reached under him searching for it.
"You can't get it!" Harry said, leaping to his feet and wobbling towards the kitchen just as Petunia opened the back screen door, a look of surprise evident on her face.
"Dudley! What are you doing with this freak?! I thought I told you to stay in your cupboard!" Petunia said, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him towards the stairs. Dudley stared wide eyed after his mother, as Harry struggled to keep up, tripping over his feet as she dragged him along.
"You just leave him alone!" Petunia said, pushing the child into the cupboard and slamming the door, locking it with a huff. Inside, Harry sat down on his worn mattress, and cradled the little toy train, turning it over and over in his tiny hands. He admired the polished wheels and smoke stake, wiping a tear away. Harry gently placed the toy on his shelf, lying down to admire it. The few beams of sunlight that could find their way through the cracks around the door seemed to illuminate the toy, as Harry imagined it racing through the country side, perhaps taking him far away from this place.
Harry shook his head to rid himself of the memory. It had been a long time since he had thought of it, and it gave him little comfort now.
He pushed himself back against the stone wall and tried to imagine his parent's faces again, desperate for any reprieve from the hell he was living.
"Now, tell us again Ms. Granger what happened?" Dumbledore said, running a hand through his white beard.
Hermione recounted the events of the night, starting with their suspicions about Snape stealing the stone and their attempts to prevent it.
"And then Harry told me to send for you, and he went on to save the stone," Hermione finished, nearly out of breath.
"Professor Snape has been protecting the stone, why on earth would he try to steal it?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"To keep Voldemort alive! We have to go save Harry!" the little girl cried, looking desperately between Dumbledore and McGonagall.
McGonagall looked up from the girl and made eye contact with the headmaster. He nodded and stepped towards Hermione.
"Ms. Granger, please stay here in my office and Professor McGonagall and I will go attend to the matter," he said, as McGonagall hurried towards the door, the headmaster following quickly behind her.
A search of the dungeons proved Hermione's story as the stone was nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, nether was Harry. Hermione joined Ron in the hospital wing as the heads of houses met in Dumbledore's office.
McGonagall stood beside Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff. Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw, stood next to Dumbledore, while Professor Snape lingered in the corner, obviously displeased. Everyone with the exception of Dumbledore wore bed clothing and sleepy expressions to match.
"I am sure you are all wondering why I have called you here in the middle of the night. To get right to it, the Sorcerer's Stone is missing and Harry Potter has been kidnapped," Dumbledore said, a chorus of gasps going around the room.
"Minerva and I have searched the dungeons and with Mr. Filtches help, we were able to search most of the classrooms and the Great Hall. Hagrid is currently searching the grounds for Harry, but so far, we haven't had much luck." Dumbledore lowered himself down to his chair with a sigh.
"Albus, how did this happen?" Professor Sprout asked, fanning herself with a small colorful hand painted fan.
"Hermione Grander, Ron Weasly, and Harry Potter thought that Severus was going to steal the Sorcerer's Stone tonight and acted to prevent it. Ron was injured and Hermione found Minerva shortly thereafter," Dumbledore said, bowing his head.
The eyes of the group turned to Snape as he snorted and adjusted his robes.
"Of course we know Severus had nothing to do with this, right Severus?" McGonagall asked, crinkling her brow in mild suspicion towards the dark haired professor.
"Certainly not," Snape spat, angry crossing his arms over his chest.
"Who could have done this?" Flitwick said, speaking for the first time.
"I have sent an owl to Nicolas Flamel to inquire any suspicions he may have, but besides that, I haven't been able to think of anyone else specifically. What are your thoughts?" the headmaster said, addressing the group of assembled professors before him.
"The key here is the boy. I can't think of why whoever wanted the stone would also kidnap a child. It must have been planned that way. If Potter had crossed them, they could easily have killed him and left with the stone. Why fool with kidnapping an arrogant brat?" Snape said from the corner of the room, glaring at the headmaster.
"Yes, Severus, that does narrow down the suspects quite a bit. Who would want the stone as well as Harry Potter?" Dumbledore said pointedly, returning the Professor's stares.
"But he is dead!" Professor Sprout said, fanning herself harder than ever as her wide eyes darted around the room.
"Prudence would say not to rule anyone out," Snape muttered towards the witch as she gasped again.
"I will contact the Ministry at once, and I would ask the rest of you to keep this information to yourselves. It will spread among the students quickly enough without our helping it along," Dumbledore said as the group started to disperse.
"Severus, a word please?" Dumbledore said, motioning for the Potions professor to be seated.
Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated this sooner. I have been drowning in school work and final exams! Please read and review, and especially let me know if the progression of the story doesn't make sense or you feel it could be improved. Thank you for reading my story! As always, a huge thank you to my best friend, Freidon, for helping me develop the plot. You should go check out her amazing stories! :)