For some reason, out of all of the fics that I'm following, NO ONE has updated for two days now! I dunno what the deal is, but if any of you people reading this have a fic that you've left alone for a while, go back to it! I miss the other writers...:(

Hope that you guys LOVE this chapter...and a little twist at the end...;p

Severus Snape was perfectly content being the bad guy. It came with his job, after all. Well, alright – he didn't have to be quite as snarky as he was, but he honestly didn't like James Potter's spawn. He might even go so far as to say he hated him, though that wasn't quite true. If Harry had only inherited James Potter's eyes, it would've been much easier for him to stop thinking of Lily every time the boy looked at him.

But it was also that reminder of Lily that kept Snape protecting Harry.

He was under no delusions – he had no lost love for the Potter brat, and it was only the love for Lily and the memory of her that kept him looking out for Harry Potter.

But he had to maintain his role.

He had at first thought that it would be very easy to hate the young Potter idiot, and had even looked forward to tormenting him in Potions class. Dumbledore had told him that the boy had Lily's eyes of course, but he hadn't quite believed it until he had seen it in the first class with the bespectacled brat. And it was the glasses surrounding the eyes that reminded him that this wasn't Lily's child – it was Potter's. And Potter and Black had been raising him, so the little monster was sure to have inherited their traits.

He was not deaf, like most children assumed the teachers were. He listened from afar, and used what they said to make it seem like he was everywhere. He had discovered that the fear of the students when they thought that Snape might be listening, even though they couldn't see him, was very satisfying indeed. It also prevented them from talking about things they shouldn't be.

He knew that Potter Junior and his new band of Marauders-Plus-the-Genius-Girl-That-Will-Later-Be-One-of-the-Boys'-Wife suspected that he was after the Sorcerer's Stone. He didn't care about that part, but the fact that they were going to throw themselves into danger because of their unfounded suspicions? It was downright idiotic was what it was.

He had to admit, it had been very amusing when they thought he was the bad guy – he could see their nervousness increase, especially during the final Potions exam. Troll, was sure to be their grades, and he had to resist rubbing his hands in glee as he thought of the big fat 'T's that he would write in the red ink at the top of the page.

Of course, he'd have to give Draco a higher grade – he knew how Lucius felt about all of that, and after Draco's being Sorted into Gryffindor…well, there was no reason to make the elder Malfoy more angry, was there?

Then as he went down the corridor toward McGonagall's office, he had seen the five children talking with anxious faces. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were talking about – honestly, displaying their emotions so openly? Such Gryffindors.

Then he heard what they said, and his stomach flipped a bit – must be something he'd eaten. He couldn't be concerned about them, of course – that was ridiculous.

But if they planned to go alone to protect the Stone…

He heard what was said about Voldemort, and that caused his blood pressure to rise even higher. If it was true, that it was Voldemort trying to come back through a servant…just like Draco, he couldn't let that happen. He had already jeopardized a lot just by confronting Quirrell, but if the Dark Lord knew about it or even found out about it, he would have a lot of cleaning up to do once the Dark Lord did return. But that boy could not be confronted by Lord Voldemort now – he was much too young.

But Dumbledore was gone, apparently…that left him to protect the Stone.

So he confronted them. He was well aware of how the Potter creep never looked him directly in the eye – smart move, Potter – but he could figure out by looking at the other children exactly what they planned to do.

He was hopeful, if not certain, that the threat of their expulsion would get them to back off, but later he heard – after they thought he was gone – that it had only strengthened their conviction to do something.

Bloody heroic Gryfindors, he thought sourly, striding off to do some damage control.

Draco was really good at imitating the voice of the Bloody Baron, was all Harry could think as Hermione played on the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas to keep the three-headed dog asleep. They'd been able to keep Peeves away, thanks to Draco's impersonation.

"We'll have to use that excuse more often," Ron had said through muffled laughter to Draco.

Hermione kept playing the flute as one by one, the boys jumped first down the trapdoor, landing on something soft below. Harry commented that it felt like a very un-gentlemanly thing to do, having all four boys go first before the single girl, but Draco had assured him by saying it was in fact the opposite – they were making sure it wasn't dangerous first, and then acting as something to break Hermione's fall if it happened to be a hard ground below.

It wasn't, but when Neville came down after the other three boys, he looked at the plant coiling around the others' ankles and recognized it immediately for what it was, being so skilled in Herbology.

Above them, the music stopped.

"Wait!" Neville called quickly, running toward a damp wall. "Don't – !"

But he was too late, because Hermione had already jumped down, landing in the soft plants.

"What's wrong?" Ron said confusedly. He was about to say more when Hermione, who had already risen, struggled toward the damp wall Neville stood at. She had to struggle, because the moment she landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around both of her ankles. As for Harry, Ron, and Draco, the plant had already begun creeping around their legs without them noticing.

"What's wrong?!" Hermione shrieked. "Look at yourselves!"

They finally noticed their predicament and began struggling against the plant, but the more they struggled, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them.

"Stop moving!" Neville ordered them, as Hermione watched the three in frozen horror. "I know what this is called – it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad to know what it's called – that's a great help, thanks!" Ron snarled, leaning his head back to escape the tendrils trying to curl around his neck.

"Shut up!" Hermione said frantically. "I'm trying to remember how to kill it!"

"Well, hurry up – I can't breathe!" Harry gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around his chest.

Neville was trying to remember as well, too worried about the three to think too coherently.

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare…" he muttered. "What did Professor Sprout say? – it likes the dark and the damp – "

"So light a fire!" Harry choked.

"Yes – of course – but there's no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands.

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Draco bellowed, speaking for the first time since jumping through the trapdoor and startling them all with the strength of his shout. He had never shouted so loud or been so unconcerned about his hair, which by now was practically a rat's nest, thanks to the deadly plant. "ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Hermione, and she whipped out her wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames she had used on Snape at the plant. Neville copied her spell, and in a matter of seconds, the other three boys felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. It unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

"Lucky you guys pay attention to Herbology," Harry said as they joined Hermione and Neville by the wall, wiping sweat from their faces.

"Yeah," said Draco. "And lucky Harry doesn't lose his head in a crisis – 'there's no wood', honestly."

The next obstacle couldn't really be called an obstacle – in a matter of seconds, he was turning the silver key in the doorknob to let them through. He wasn't the youngest Seeker in a century for nothing, after all.

But the next task was far more daunting.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Draco said as they stared at the life size chessboard in front of them, with a door on the other side. He met Ron's gaze as the redhead finished, "We've got to play our way across the room."

About ten minutes later, Draco stayed back with Ron, who was unconscious next to the life-sized chessboard. He had sacrificed his piece so that the others could go forward, but once they had won the game, Draco had told the other three to go on so that he could stay to make sure Ron would be alright.

The troll was already taken care of, so they proceeded on to Snape's challenge, which was more logic than anything. They discovered that the two small bottles would either take them back, to safety, or forward, to the Stone.

"There's only enough for two people," Harry said with a crinkled eyebrow. "One person can go back, and one can go forward. One of us will be stuck here."

"I'll stay in here," Neville volunteered. "Hermione, you go back and get help, and I'll wait for professors to arrive. Harry, you take the one to go forward – if You-Know-Who really is in there, you have a score to settle with him."

At this, Hermione's lip trembled, and she dashed forward to engulf Harry in a hug.

"Hermione!" Harry protested, flushing.

"Harry," she said pulling back, "And Neville…you boys are great wizards, you know."

"We're not as good as you," Neville said, flushing as well in embarrassment as he and Harry exchanged glances.

"Me!" Hermione said. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery and – oh, Harry – be careful!"

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and without further ado, walked back through the purple flames behind them.

Neville and Harry looked at each other, and Neville clapped a hand to Harry's shoulder. "Well…good luck, mate."

Harry nodded, swallowing harshly in nervousness, and then went forward and grabbed Neville into a fierce, brotherly hug.

"I'm scared," he admitted in a somewhat ashamed-sounding voice.

Neville sighed in understanding. "I know," he said simply. "It's okay to be scared – you just get in there and kick old Voldy's arse."

Harry let out a shaky sigh and released his best mate with a nod. "Okay," he said, putting a determined expression on his face. He picked up the smallest bottle.

"Good luck in there, mate!" Neville said, smiling encouragingly.

Harry flashed him a grin that was only half-faked. He removed the cork from the potion bottle, downed it, and then walked through the black flames with all the Gryffindor courage he possessed.

Something silvery was glinting above him. For a moment, Harry thought it was the Snitch, but that made no sense. Snitches were gold. He tried to move his arms, to catch it, to see what it was, but his arms were too heavy.

He blinked, and his vision cleared a bit. The silvery thing was a pair of glasses. How strange.

He blinked again, and the face of James Potter swam into view above him.

"Dad…?" he coughed, his voice scratchy, and he remembered in an instant – Quirrell, the Stone, Voldemort's face on the back of his own DADA professor's head. His voice was hoarse because he'd yelled in pain when he held onto Quirrell's face, and he suppressed a wince at the memory of the pain.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're alright!" James exclaimed in relief, leaning over to hug Harry tightly. "Are you hurting anywhere? Do you need potions? Madam Pomfrey shouldn't have left now – she needs to get – !"

Harry ignored his questions as he fumbled to put on his glasses, which had been sitting at the table beside his bed. "Dad – the Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone – quick, Dad – "

Sirius, who had been lying as a dog at the foot of Harry's bed, transformed back and said, "Slow down, pup – you're a little behind the times. Quirrell doesn't have the Stone."

But this did nothing to reassure Harry. "Then who does? Sirius, I – "

"Relax, puppy, or Madam Pomfrey will have us thrown out," Sirius said with a wink, though clearly still worried that they might indeed be thrown out. Harry realized then that he was in the Hospital Wing, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked to be half of Honeydukes.

"How long have I been in here?" Harry asked after seeing the enormous display of get-well treats.

"Three days," James answered, looking tired, as though he'd spent the entire three days by Harry's bedside without sleeping or showering. Knowing his dad, Harry believed it, especially seeing the light stubble on his face. "Your friends are definitely going to be glad you woke up – they've been worried the whole time, coming in here for every break to see if you're awake yet."

"But, the Stone – " Harry started.

"You mean the Stone I told you not to go after?" James said with a raised eyebrow and a definite frown at the corners of his mouth. Harry subsided, drawing back into the pillows behind him, sensing a severe scolding brewing.

He was right. "I expected better from you, Harry James," his dad reprimanded sternly. "I explicitly told you to stay away from the issue, and to go to Professor Dumbledore if anything else turned up. You are not to be associating yourself or your friends with mysteries and Dark Lords and plans to achieve immortality! What if one of you had been hurt – or killed?! Devil's Snare is not something to mess about with, never mind trolls – again – and three-headed dogs – again – and deadly poisons! Don't you understand, that if one thing had gone wrong, if Neville hadn't known loads about Herbology or if Miss Granger hadn't been calm under stress, that any one of you could've been seriously injured?! Never mind the chess game! What if the piece that struck Mr. Weasley had struck harder, and ended up killing him? It was sheer dumb luck that he was only given a concussion!"

"I know!" Harry finally burst out, overwhelmed by the feelings rushing up within him and feeling close to tears. "I know, Dad – I know, and I'm sorry, but we thought that Snape would get the Stone to bring Voldemort back and I couldn't let that happen because then he would try and kill you – and Sirius – and my friends – and me – and then McGonagall didn't believe us when we said the Stone wasn't safe and so we had to try and save it ourselves because Dumbledore had gone to London because Quirrell made it as a distraction but we thought it was Snape because he's always been a git even for how hard I tried to do good in his class but Snape was trying to save me all along and when he was staring at me during the Quidditch match it was really the counter curse that he was chanting and Quirrell was really the bad one all along but he just hid it better because he was always jittery and stuttering but his turban! – his turban was really covering Voldemort's face because he was possessing him, sort of – and that's why he always smelled rotten and he tried to cover it up with garlic but that's why my scar always hurt when he turned around and he was the one who killed all the unicorns and drank their blood and when I was down there, Voldemort said that if I gave him the Stone, he could bring Mum and Moony back and I really, really wanted to but Uncle Frank said that 'no spell can reawaken the dead' and so I didn't give it to him and so he tried to kill me so he could take the Stone from me after I was dead but it burned his skin and so I grabbed him instead even though it hurt really bad and I held on so he turned to ash and so I killed him!" He was sobbing by the end of his long-winded speech, and had a hard time breathing as tears streamed down his cheeks.

James had already risen somewhere near the end of his son's rant, and he climbed into the bed with Harry, drawing him close to his chest so that Harry's head was on his shoulder as he sobbed. Sirius stayed where he was, mainly because there was simply no room for him on Harry's other side, and mainly because Harry really only wanted his father at the moment. He looked on the scene compassionately, heart tearing for the pain in his godson's voice.

"Hey, Snitchy, shh," James soothed, hugging his son tightly. "You're alright now – I'm here."

"I kn-know h-he was e-e-evil," Harry sobbed, breath coming in gasps, "B-but I k-killed him, Daddy! I w-wasn't even t-trying to, but h-he was-was trying to…"

"Hush, Snitchy, I know," James said, tears springing in his eyes as he took in the depths of Harry's guilt-filled pain. "You did nothing wrong, do you hear me? Nothing. You're right – if Voldemort had gotten the Stone, he would've come after you, and Sirius, and me, and your friends. You did the right thing, alright? You have nothing to be ashamed of for getting rid of that two-faced idiot." He hoped that the "two-faced" pun would cheer Harry slightly, but Harry didn't seem to have noticed.

Finally though, after Sirius had found a Calming Draught in Madam Pomfrey's stores and convinced Harry to drink it, the child's sobs faded to hiccups. James still held him in a tight embrace, but Harry's muscles were relaxing from their tense posture as the Draught took effect and he began to feel sleepy.

"Are you alright now, Prongslet?" James asked concernedly, absently noting that he had tears and snot all down his chest but not caring in the slightest.

Harry nodded wearily, though his eyes were still shadowed with guilt. James noticed and said, "If there's one thing I want to make clear, Harry, it's that you are not. Evil. What you did was in self-defense, and there was no way to avoid that without getting hurt or killed yourself. And you won. He didn't get the Stone, and it's already been destroyed, so you don't need to worry about that any longer. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded, feeling loads better because of his dad's words. A moment later he heard a muffled thwap, followed immediately by a mild sting on his bum, and looked up into his dad's stern, yet still soft eyes.

"That's for the disobedience," he said sternly, though his eyes were still creased with worry for the bespectacled boy.

Harry blinked, surprised at the light punishment. A moment later his confusion was answered when James said, "And you're grounded for the summer."

Harry just nodded in weary acceptance, knowing that it would do no good to protest. He had known going in that when his dad found out he'd likely be grounded, so it really came as no shock. He was just glad he wasn't getting a paddling on top of it. He snuggled closer to his dad, tightening his grip for a moment and closing his eyes. He felt the bed dip slightly as Sirius, in the form of Padfoot, approached and dropped next to Harry, fur pressed against his legs as though to reassure them both.

In moments, with his dad's arms still encircling him, he had fallen asleep.

Harry woke some time later to the sound of voices. At first they were indistinct, but then as he pulled himself out of the sleep-induced fog, he recognized Ron and Draco's voices. Then he heard Neville say something, and it seemed that Hermione rebuked them all, from the sound of her tone of voice.

He opened his eyes, and saw the four of his friends sitting on the next bed. Neville was opening a Chocolate Frog that he'd just picked up from Harry's pile, and Draco and Ron were sharing a box of Every Flavor Beans, laughing as Ron's rat Scabbers shrank back from a bean that they'd tested as being earwax-flavored. James and Sirius were nowhere in sight.

"Stealing's a crime, you know," Harry said in a groggy voice. "Could send you guys to Azkaban."

The others gasped, startled that he was awake without their having realized it, and Hermione cried, "Harry!" while Neville choked slightly on whatever he had been swallowing previously.

"Oh, we've been so worried about you!" Hermione said after crushing him in a tight hug. "It's been three days! It's dinner time, which is why these boys"—she sent a semi-nasty look to the other three—"felt that because they were visiting you and therefore infringing upon their horrible dessert habits of stuffing their faces, that they had the right to steal your treats and stuff themselves on that."

"It's alright, Hermione," Harry assured her, having put on his glasses during her rant, which he supposed James must have removed while he was asleep. "They helped down there too – they can have some well-wishers treats. I can't possibly eat all of them myself."

Hermione scowled slightly as the boys gave her smug looks, continuing to eat the junk there, with more gusto than before. Harry sighed mentally and then got an idea as he caught sight of a package of Ice Mice on the table. He groaned in faked annoyance.

"I wonder how many people who gave me these actually know me," Harry sniffed, picking up the package of the candies. "Because anyone that really knows me knows that I don't like Ice Mice!"

Neville frowned, about to protest, as he knew that Harry did, in fact, like Ice Mice, and the two of them had once eaten themselves sick on it when he had raided the candy cupboard at home. But Harry talked before Neville could.

"Honestly," he said, "I like the candies that are filled with sugar – the ones that can make your teeth go rotten. But Ice Mice are way too…too…well, good for teeth, and it really just bugs me to classify it as candy!"

"How can a candy be good for your teeth?" Hermione demanded, eyeing the candies speculatively.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. My Aunt Alice – Neville's mum, that is – told me that there's some sort of charm that makes the mint in it act like a toothpaste. Apparently it was invented by a mother who got tired of the fights she got into with her children to get them to brush their teeth, so she made those as a substitute. Anyway, I like them and all when I don't want to brush my teeth, but there's way too many here to be useful." He sighed again. "And a perfectly good waste, too. Why couldn't they have just given me more Pumpkin Pasties?"

"Don't waste it, Harry!" Hermione protested. "If you don't want it, then…well, then I'll eat the extras!"

Harry's expression lit as though he'd just remembered something. "Oh, yeah – your parents are dentists, aren't they? So they'd be perfectly useful for you! Just take all of them – I don't need 'em. Sirius has a stash at home."

"Well, alright," Hermione conceded, and Harry grinned behind his bar of – very sugary – Honeyduke's Finest Chocolate.

"Where's Dad and Padfoot?" Harry directed his question to Neville a few moments later.

"They just left, before you woke up," Neville said, speaking around his mouthful of chocolate. "Said they'd be back in about twenty minutes. I think they went to get food. I don't blame 'em – something about hospital food is horrible, even though it all comes from the Hogwarts kitchens."

"Ow – Scabbers!"

Harry looked up in time to see Ron's pet rat scampering away, with Ron holding a bleeding finger with a pained expression on his face.

"He's been doing that all year," Ron said as Draco leapt and caught the furry pet. "Always bites me to get away when he's around Harry."

"Must be allergic," Neville said.

"Animals can't be allergic to any one person, Neville," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. "And there's nothing about Harry that makes him particularly special."

"Gee, thanks, Hermione," Harry said dryly.

"Oh, you know what I mean," Hermione scowled to hide her embarrassment. "Of course you're one of a kind, but if a rat was allergic to you, it would be to your hair or a lotion that you wear, and yours is just the same as all of ours."

"I don't wear lotion, Hermione," Harry said, somewhat confused.

"Exactly," Hermione nodded. "So that's all the more reason why Scabbers can't be allergic to just you."

Something about what she'd said struck something in his brain, and with an odd expression, he said to Draco, "Hey, Draco – hand me Scabbers. Maybe if I show him that I'm the same as you guys, he can get used to me and stop biting Ron."

Draco obligingly handed the squirming rat over to Harry, who carefully took hold of him around the middle, so that his front paws were able to be seen.

There. One toe missing.

Haha and you thought that would be the end after he got the Stone...well it's NOT! Hehe...hope that cliffie gets you to REVIEW! :D

Also - working on the chapter after the next one now - I plan on writing a sequel, so I'm trying to figure out what to write and where to end THIS one. Here's what I was thinking:

1.) End this fic when he gets on the Hogwarts Express and the sequel be only the summer, and then have their second year be the third fic in the series,

2.) Continue into the summer and end this fic with Harry's/Neville's birthday and then the sequel begin right where it left off,

3.) Skip summer altogether and go right into their trip to Diagon Alley for their school supplies.

See, I kind of want to write a bit more where they're not in school so that I can get more character development, because it's harder to do when there's five people that have to be included equally. The summer part wouldn't be too long (I don't think), but I would go into Draco's experience after he gets home, too. Obviously, Neville and Harry are grounded for the summer, but if I do write about their summer, I have a plan for that, too.

I do recognize that I'm in the middle of this fic, but I figure I should get my brain moving so that I can mold it into whatever it will be by the end. ;)

I'll have this question in the next couple of chapters too, until I get opinions from fifteen different people (that way it's a fair vote).

So please review! :)