'm overwhelmed. A hundred reviews! One. Hundred Reviews. That's a three-digit number. I've never had a hundred reviews for anything I've done before! So a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and an extra special thank you to Lord Ultimus, who wrote review number 100!

(And to those of you who haven't reviewed - don't worry about it. While it's always nice to hear what people think about my work, and I appreciate every review, I never agreed with the "review every fic you read" policy. Sometimes you plain don't have anything to say, and I'd rather have a review that you left because you wanted to, than one you left because you felt you had to.)

WEASLEY GIRL

Based on the Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling

CHAPTER TEN
Questions, Lessons and Stories

To Harry's immense relief, when the story of Snape and Quirrell was told to the other students, a number of details was left out.

When Professor McGonagall addressed the Gryffindors in their common room, all she said was that the staff had reason to believe that Professor Quirrell had been the one to let in the troll on Halloween, and that he had been — or at least believed himself to be — possessed by and acting on the orders of You-Know-Who. Furthermore, Professor Snape had either been kidnapped by Quirrell or gone with him of his own free will, and both these Professors were currently missing, possibly using an Invisibility Cloak to hide.

Nothing whatsoever about the involvement of Potter's Gang.

"And until the two Professors have been located," said McGonagall sternly, looking at all the members of her house, "None of you are to go out looking for Professor Quirrell or Professor Snape. I know what some of you are thinking —" (and a number of older Gryffindors suddenly looked either very innocent or very nonchalant) "— but going off looking for two potentially very dangerous men is not brave, and it is not the actions of a true Gryffindor."

"But, Professor," said one of the second-years hopefully. "If we happen to spot them, and if we happen to be holding our wands at the time, and we happen to get the drop on them..."

"In that very unlikely event, Mister McLaggen, there are two possible outcomes," said McGonagall. "Either you get out of the area as soon as possible and inform a teacher, or you foolishly try to engage two of the most skilled wizards at this school and are promptly subdued and possibly killed for your trouble. This is not a game."

Mister McLaggen did not seem altogether convinced, but didn't comment further.

As it turned out, on the whole the majority of the students at Hogwarts took the news fairly well. In fact, Harry was surprised to learn that the common reaction was not the utter terror he'd expected from how nearly everyone in the wizarding world panicked from the mere mention of Voldemort's name, but more a mild concern and annoyance at the inconvenience, and even a few comments that this was all "kind of exciting."

(The strongest reaction by far came from Oliver Wood, and that was in response to the announcement that while lessons would resume as normal, all outdoors activity, including Quidditch, was cancelled until this situation was cleared up. "This year was going to be our big year!" the Quidditch captain howled. "The year when Gryffindor finally won the Quidditch Cup! And now we can't even play!")

Because, as it turned out, most of the students didn't believe for a moment that Voldemort was actually possessing Quirrell. They found it much more likely that the Defense Teacher had finally gone off his rocker.

"It was bound to happen," one sixth-year Ravenclaw commented, summing up the general opinion among students. "The way he was jumping at everything, it was obvious either his heart would stop working or his brain would. As for Snape... well, he's Snape, isn't he? It was only a question of time before he revealed that he was up to no good."

Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike agreed. There were even some quiet sniggerings at the thought that Snape (easily the least popular teacher in school) may have been kidnapped.

What the Slytherins thought, Harry didn't know, because they refused to talk about it at all.

As the days and weeks passed, things seemed to settle down in some kind of routine again, though it was a slightly different routine than before. With the cancellation of the outdoors activities, the students were barely allowed outside the castle at all, and the schoolgrounds and Quidditch pitch lay completely unused.

Another marked change was in Percy, Fred and George. They were among the few who did believe that Voldemort was back, and so they had decided that they were going to keep an eye out for their little sister no matter if she wanted them to or not.

"Honestly," Ronnie complained. "You make it sound like I went 'At last, a chance to get myself killed!' and painted a target on my chest before I ran off to call You-Know-Who names! It wasn't like that!"

"Even so," said Percy, "despite me pleading with you to take it easy, you keep behaving recklessly and irresponsibly —"

"It was really my fault," said Neville. "I was the one who went off to practice —"

"Please, Neville, let's not go through all that again," said Hermione. "Percy, Neville was missing and there was a troll running about!"

"Yeah!" said Ronnie. "What did you expect us to do, just ignore that Neville was in danger?"

"You could have told a teacher," said Percy. "You could have told me, I was right there!"

"You were busy organising everyone," said Ronnie sullenly.

"Now you're just making excuses!"

"I'd blame the three of you for leading our dear sister out into danger," said Fred, looking mock-sternly at Harry, Hermione and Neville. "But I know her too well to even begin thinking she wouldn't have gone anyway. Besides, you're all first-years. How well do we remember when we were young and foolish —"

"You're getting a bit deep again, brother," said George.

"Actually, I'm just saying a lot of random things in the hope of sounding profound. Is it working?"

"Will you two stop it!" Percy snapped. "Ronnie could have died! Don't you even care?"

Fred and George looked taken aback at Percy's outburst, Fred raising his hands defensively. "Relax, Percy," he said. "We're just joking around! Of course we care!"

"You have a peculiar way of showing it," Percy huffed. "Nevertheless, Ronnie, as your older brothers, we can't allow you to roam around unsupervised, not if Dark wizards are out there and targeting you."

"She's not going to be unsupervised," said Hermione carefully. "Professor Dumbledore —"

"— has an entire school to take care of," said Percy. "I'm certain he'd appreciate a pair of extra eyes and a helping wand."

Harry remembered that he'd said something very similar when he'd shown up for their first flying lesson — and apparently, so did Ronnie.

"I don't need a babysitter!" she snapped. "And even if I did, do you really think You-Know-Who would let you stop him? 'Aaah, there she is, the Weasley girl'" she hissed, in a surprisingly good imitation of Voldemort's ice-cold voice. "'Now I have her in my — oh, wait, what's that? Oh no! A fifteen-year-old Prefect! I must run away at once!'"

Despite himself, Harry laughed, which earned him an annoyed glare from both Percy and Hermione.

"Why is it," Percy grumbled, "that no-one in this family can take anything seriously?"

"Probably because you used up the family quota of seriousness when you were born, so there was none left for the rest of us," said Fred.

"Listen," said George, looking first at Ronnie, then over at Harry, Neville and Hermione. "No matter how you look at it, and what did and didn't happen, the fact remains that Weasleys stick up for each other, and Gryffindors take care of their own. Ronnie's a Weasley, and the rest of you are Gryffindors. So we're going to keep an eye on you all, no matter if you want us to or not. Sorry, that's just how it is."

Ronnie muttered something inaudible, but didn't protest.

As the days passed, and as Harry quickly discovered, the Weasley brothers were serious about looking after them; wherever he and his friends went in the castle, Fred and George (who knew the many secret passageways of the school better than anyone and could appear just about anywhere at a moment's notice) would never be far away. In fact, they had an uncanny ability to know exactly where everyone was at any given time, though they refused to say just how they managed this.

Percy, in the meantime, had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on things in the common room. He lost quite a bit of goodwill with both Ronnie and the twins by insisting that all Weasleys — and by extension Potters, Grangers and Longbottoms — should all do their homework together after dinner.

"We'd consider refusing that part," George sadly confessed to Harry, "but Mum's always on about how we have to study more, and take care of our sister, and Fred and I are already in trouble with her over the entire Draught of Living Death episode and — er — a few other harmless mishaps she may have had a few letters from Hogwarts about."

"But your Mum's not even here," Harry had to point out.

"No, but Percy's a snitch if ever there was one," said George. "He writes a letter home every week, haven't you noticed? I think Mum and Dad know more about what's going on at Hogwarts than we do. But, well, they haven't insisted on taking us out of school so far, so that's something."

And so, for the next few weeks, Potter's Gang spent an extraordinary amount of time with the Weasley brothers. Which was mostly okay by Harry; Fred and George were always good for a laugh and Percy, while pompous and more bossy than Hermione, was helpful and knowledgeable about a lot of things.

However, well, it might be a little too much at times.

Even Hermione, who had been the Weasley brothers' biggest adevocate when Ronnie started to complain about them, started to agree that they might be getting a little bit smothering. It was impossible to really find a moment to themselves anymore, because Percy, Fred and George were always around.

And they weren't the only ones keeping an eye on Potter's Gang, either, though the others were at least much less intrusive.

While nobody saw Dumbledore other than at mealtimes, the children would occasionally catch a glimpse of Fawkes, either flying past a window or perched on a windowsill and peeking in. Once or twice, the phoenix even came in to perch on Ronnie's shoulder for a while and let himself be admired by any students who happened to be nearby before he took off and remained out of sight for the rest of the day.

Mad-Eye Moody remained at Hogwarts, lurking around the corridors and occasionally startling unsuspecting students with his sudden appearances and cries of "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Sometimes he vanished and wasn't seen for days (and Harry suspected that these were the times he had received leads from his colleagues about the whereabouts of Voldemort), and then he would be back again with no explanation as to where he had been.

As if all this wasn't enough, there was the Warning Fangs that Moody had given to Potter's Gang — though these proved to be not as much use as Harry might have hoped. Yes, the Fangs could detect malicious intent from those around, but couldn't tell the difference between someone who had murder on their mind, someone who just didn't like the bearer and someone who just wanted to play a prank.

This led to one of the more embarrassing scenes during the month of November, when Potter's Gang were just leaving Charms class when the Fangs suddenly grew hot, and Neville panicked. He pulled his want out and began firing curses at their attacker — who proved to be Peeves the Poltergeist, lurking in the shadows with water balloons ready for the throw.

Neville's ineffective curses did not hurt Peeves at all, but somehow managed to turn his hat into a very pink, very feminine sun bonnet (which, as Hermione said later, would have been a very impressive display of Transfiguration if it had been on purpose).

As revenge for his ruined hat, Peeves chased Potter's gang all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, hurling water balloons and other random items at them, even as Neville kept yelling apologies at him.

With all this going on, Harry didn't really get a chance to discuss everything he had learned about Snape, Voldemort and Quirrell with his friends. Though Dumbledore had answered some of his questions, there were so many others that still needed answering, but which Harry didn't feel he should talk about in front of Percy, Fred and George. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Weasley brothers, it was more that, well, he didn't think they needed any sort of reason to get more protective than they already were.

The only one he could really talk with undisturbed was Neville, as the two shared a dorm room and could at least grab the chance to talk when Dean and Seamus weren't around. Still, as it turned out, Hemione had her methods of sharing her thoughts indirectly.

QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER:
1: Is Snape evil?
2: How was he involved in the deaths of Harry's parents?
3: Why does Dumbledore trust him?
4: What made Dumbledore promise not to reveal his reason for trusting Snape?
5: Who did he make that promise to? Was it Snape, or someone else?
6: What was Quirrell/Voldemort doing in the Forbidden Forest?
7: What is the thing that Fluffy is guarding that Quirrell/Voldemort wants?
8: How does the Mirror of Erised tie into all this?

Harry looked up from the parchment to see Neville's anxious face. They were both sitting on Neville's bed, having grabbed the opportunity while Dean and Seamus were off somewhere else in the castle.

"Can't say Hermione isn't thorough," said Harry. "When'd she give you this?"

"During Potions," said Neville. "Hard to imagine Hermione ever passing notes during a lesson, but you know Binns, he didn't even notice."

Harry nodded and groaned internally. With Snape gone, and no substitute potions teacher having been found (according to rumour Dumbledore was in talks with with a new teacher to come in and substitute, but apparently there were details they couldn't quite agree on), Professor Binns had temporarily taken over the class.

Though the ghost had insisted that he'd been "quite the potioneer" while he was alive, it turned out that he taught Potions exactly the same way as he taught History of Magic: He'd glide into a classroom, barely noticing if the students were there or not, and then start lecturing in a monotone voice that could put even the most eager listener to sleep. He would continue talking until the lesson was over, upon which he would leave the room, never bothering with practical assignments. More often than not, he'd forget that he wasn't teaching History of Magic at the moment and would start talking about the goblin rebellion in 1612 or the creation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.

"I suppose that's one good use for Potions, anyway," said Neville, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and immediately realising that he was making a bad job of it. "Er, I think what Hermione means for us to do is add our own thoughts and questions and then pass the parchment back to the girls so they can discuss it, and then they can write down what they think and so on."

"Hmm." Harry looked at the list again. It did seem a slightly awkward way of communicating, and he would much have preferred being able to talk to the girls in person about this, but there didn't seem to be any place where all four of them could gather without having Fred and George barge in on them. "Too bad we can't do this by magic. Or — can we?"

"I don't know," Neville admitted. "There are a lot of magical ways to talk to people, but I don't think we learn any of them this year."

"Oh. Never mind then." Trying to pretend he wasn't disappointed, Harry looked back down at Hermione's question list - and then he remembered something. "Wait," he said. "I think I know part of the answer to question number seven!"

"You do?" Neville looked surprised. "Wait, which one's number seven, again?"

"The one about what Fluffy's guarding," said Harry. "I don't know for certain, but I think I've seen the thing. Well, not the thing itself, but — look, on my birthday, when I was with Hagrid at Diagon Alley to shop for school things, we stopped by Gringotts! And Hagrid got something out of one of the vaults that he said he was fetching for Dumbledore. He wouldn't tell me what it was, only that it was secret Hogwarts business."

"Gringotts... I think that reminds me of something," Neville muttered. "If only I could remember what. What was it Hagrid got?"

"Just a brown paper bag, about this big." Harry showed with his hands. "Didn't look very full either. Any idea what it could be?"

Neville shrugged helplessly. "Could be any number of things, really. Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Harry! I remember what it was about Gringotts! Someone broke in there this Summer!"

"Isn't that supposed to be impossible?" said Harry, remembering the goblins and all the nasty security procedures that had been more than implied to him.

"Yeah, but they did it anyway! And," Neville continued, "they didn't manage to get what they were after because the vault they broke into had been emptied the same day! When's your birthday?"

"July the thirty-first," said Harry.

"Mine's the day before. Wow, I didn't know I was a day older than — no, forget that right now. What I was going to say was that the Gringotts happened on July the thirty-first!" Neville was so worked up he was practically jumping up and down. "I remember the date because Gran and I always visit my parents in St. Mungo's on the day after my birthday, and everybody was talking about it..."

Harry took a deep breath as this sank in. "I'll tell you something else, then," he said. "I know for a fact that Quirrell was in Diagon Alley at the time. I met him at the Leaky Cauldron."

Neville stopped almost jumping up and down. "Can't be a coincidence, can it?!" he said. "If Quirrell and You-Know-Who wanted this thing so badly they broke into Gringotts... And now the same thing is here at Hogwarts..." He trailed off. "But that must mean Hagrid knows what it is that You-Know-Who is after!"

"All the teachers know," said Harry. "Remember we heard Flitwick and Snape talk about it after Flitwick had knocked out the troll?"

"Oh yeah..." said Neville. "I'm afraid my memory's not very good when it comes to details. I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning."

"Well, er," said Harry, who at the moment couldn't remember what he'd had for breakfast either (had the eggs and bacon been today or yesterday?). "I suppose some things just stick with me. We should write this down, by the way. Got a quill?"

"What about the rest of the questions?" said Neville as he rummaged around in search of one. "Anything else you remember?"

"Hermione seems to think the Mirror of Erised is involved somehow," Harry muttered. "Dunno why."

"It was in Snape's office," said Neville. "Maybe she thinks he... saw a way to get to whatever it was in the Mirror? No, that doesn't make sense..."

"Maybe —" Harry began, but was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the dorm room. He managed to roll up the parchment just in time before Dean and Seamus came in, making so much noise that it sounded more like ten boys entering instead of just two.

"Hey!" Dean called to Harry and Neville, either ignoring or just not noticing the parchment. "Have you heard it?"

"Er — heard what?" said Harry.

"Defence against the Dark Arts is back on!" said Dean. "There was a notice about it on the board in the entrance hall! And get this - it's going to be in the Great Hall, and for all students at the same time!"

"What, all of us?" said Harry. He couldn't imagine why anyone would think this would be a good idea; surely any lesson that would be of any use to the older students would be much too advanced for the younger students?

"First-years to seventh-years!" Seamus grinned. "But that's not all! Guess who the teacher's gonna be!"

"Right!" said Mad-Eye Moody, his magical eye rolling eerily around in its socket and scanning the students assembled in the Great Hall. His voice echoed around the Hall, much louder than it should have. "Welcome to this extra Defence lesson. Since that traitor Quirrell is out there with Voldemort —" (several students gasped and winced at the mentioning of the name) "— I'm here to teach you a thing or two about not dying."

The students, seated by their respective house tables, were all watching Moody with a mix of curiosity, intimidation, exasperation and — in the case of some of the older students, particularly Slytherins — annoyance.

"I know what some of you are thinking," said Moody. "Mad-Eye Moody's gone paranoid in his old age. It's in all the papers; old Mad-Eye was forced to retire from the Auror force because he couldn't tell the difference between friend of foe anymore, so why should you take anything he says seriously?"

Harry noticed that a couple of students exchanged glances as if this was exactly what they had been thinking.

"Well, let me tell you something," Moody continued in a calm tone. "The Aurors are Britain's elite force against the Dark Arts and those who practice them. The Auror office accepts only the best, and every single Auror has to pass a number of fiendishly difficult tests and then go through three years of intensive training before they're even allowed out in the field." He paused for a second, and then with sudden and surprising force, he exclaimed: "And yet more than half of them ultimately end up DEAD because they got careless!"

Moody limped a few strides over the stone floor, his wooden leg making loud "thunk-thunk-thunk" noises for each step. "I didn't get this leg, or this eye, because I thought they would go well with my furniture," he continued, calmer again. "Constant. Vigilance. All it takes — all it takes — is a moment's carelessness. You might say to yourself that you're safe, that your protections are infallible, but they're not. You can't rule out anything as impossible. Everyone said it was impossible to break into Gringotts, and yet someone did exactly that this very summer. Just because something has never been done before doesn't mean some clever bugger won't ever figure out a way to do it! And!" He spun around, fastening his magical eye at a random third-year Hufflepuff,. "Don't ever think you are untouchable. Nobody is so great and powerful that he can't be brought down, and nobody is so weak and insignificant that he can't be noticed and targeted. But —" (he took a few steps towards the Hufflepuff boy, who looked nervous) "— nobody is so helpless that he can't give himself a chance to survive when he needs it. What's your name, boy?"

"Er — Diggory, sir. Cedric Diggory," said the Hufflepuff.

"Diggory," Moody repeated. "Ah, yes, of course, Amos Diggory's son. So, Diggory — say a Dark wizard suddenly gets the drop on you and raises his wand to throw a curse at you. Split-second decision. What do you do?"

"I —" Diggory gulped. "I suppose I could use a Shield Charm?"

"Mmm, yes, you could," said Moody, as if willing to give Diggory half a point. "But Shield Charms are notoriously difficult to pull off, and the most powerful curses can go right through them."

"A Disarming Charm," said Diggory hurriedly. "He can't curse me if I remove his wand!"

"Better," Moody nodded. "But only if you're quick enough. Remember, the Dark Wizard has the drop on you."

"I could counter the curse," said Diggory, obviously thinking like mad. "Most curses have their counter-curses!"

"True enough, and you could," Moody agreed. "But not all curses can be countered." He turned from Diggory to look around the Hall. "Anyone else?"

Ronnie carefully raised a hand. "Kick 'im in the balls?" she suggested, turning pink when more than half the students groaned, several of the older ones repressed laughter, and Percy shot her a disapproving look.

"Oh, brilliant, Weasley!" said Draco Malfoy from the Slytherin table, his voice filled with scorn. "Trust you to fight like a filthy Muggle."

But Moody spun around, snarling. "Right, who said that?!" he snapped.

The Slytherin table suddenly got very quiet.

Moody glared at them, and then his magical eye fell on Malfoy. "Oh yes," he said. "Draco Malfoy, if I'm not mistaken. Son of Lucius Malfoy and grandson of Abraxas Malfoy. Yes, your family's quite well-known. One of the oldest, richest, most influential Pureblood families in the country. Your father's even the chairman of the Hogwarts Board of Governors."

(This was news to Harry, but it did perhaps explain why Malfoy so often walked around Hogwarts as if he owned the place.)

Malfoy didn't answer, though he did meet Moody's glare.

"Well, you're a fool if you think any of that makes you untouchable," said Moody. "The world is full of people who won't care who your father is if you get in their way. Especially if you shoot your mouth off like that."

Malfoy was slowly turning red and clenching his fists, but he remained silent.

"For your information," said Moody, raising his voice again. "Weasley's suggestion wasn't such a bad one." He turned around again, now addressing the entire student body. "If you can't block or counter the curse, you need to be prepared to use other methods, even if it involves fighting dirty. Yes, even if it means getting physical, Muggle-style!"

Ignoring the glare from Malfoy (and the cautiously pleased grin from Ronnie), he moved away from the Slytherin table, slowly at first but then all of a sudden he was over at the Ravenclaw table, faster than he should have been able to move with that wooden leg. "There are three curses," he continued, "known as the Unforgiveables. They are among the Darkest magic in existence, and using any one of them on a fellow human being — wizard or Muggle, understand?! — will earn you a nice, permanent home in prison. And believe me, Azkaban is not a place you ever want to see the inside of!"

The majority of the Ravenclaws cowered, but whether if was thanks to the subject matter or Just Moody's presence was hard to say.

"But a Dark wizard, he won't care about that, he'll use Unforgiveables on you if he can," said Moody. "And right now, we have one of the Darkest ones on the loose, one who's a master of all three curses. Now, the older among you will know about these curses —" (he took a step back from the Ravenclaw table and once again let his magical eye swipe the entire room, taking in everyone and everything) "— but most of the younger will not. The Ministry thinks you're not ready to know. But I say, what you don't know can kill you! So for the benefit of those not yet in the know, can anyone name at least one of the three Unforgiveables?"

Several students raised their hands, and to Harry's surprise, Neville (who usually never volunteered information in class) was one of them.

"Longbottom," said Moody, nodding at him.

Harry got another surprise when Neville spoke — he'd thought Neville would mention the Imperius curse, the one Moody himself had told them about. But instead, Neville said, in a timid voice: "There's Crucio — the Cruciatus curse."

"Yes," said Moody, nodding. "Also known as the Torture Curse. It inflicts pain on its victims. Horrible, excruciating pain. Pain worse than anything you have ever felt. The Cruciatus can be resisted, but not easily. Better wizards than me have failed and been driven irrevocably mad from the torture."

Something stirred within Harry. Neville had said his parents had been tortured and gone mad from it. Was that the curse that had been used on them? If so... no wonder Neville looked so pale right now. He would have grown up knowing about that curse and what it could do to people.

The entire room was eerily quiet now. Everyone was hanging onto Moody's words.

"Anyone know another Unforgiveable?" said Moody, breaking the spell. "Yes, you, in the back."

"The Imperius curse," said one of the seventh-year Ravenclaw girls. "It places the victim under the caster's complete control."

"Textbook answer," said Moody, though whether he meant that as a compliment or not was hard to tell. "Yes, it's the curse that allows you to operate people like puppets. It's the sneakiest of all the Unforgiveables. For one thing, it's the hardest to detect. The person next to you might be under the curse and you'd never know it!"

The students all looked at each other. Several of them visibly shuddered.

"There are telltale signs, that you all need to look out for," said Moody. "Uncharacteristic behaviour is one, of course. Someone with glazed, milky eyes or behaving like they're intoxicated or in a trance might indicate that they're under a a poorly- or hastily-cast Imperius. But a properly-cast Imperus, where the caster is given enough time, can be almost impossible to notice. And unlike the Cruciatus curse, the Imperius curse doesn't need constant wand contact and doesn't have any kind of time limits. I've known of poor sods who were under the Imperius for years, helplessly under someone else's control. Doing all sorts of horrible things, completely unable to stop themselves."

He looked at the students solemnly. "Now, the Imperius too can be resisted. Again, not easily, but a person with a sufficiently strong will can fight it off. The third and final curse, however, can not be resisted — who can name that curse? Yes, you!"

"Avada Kedavra," said a fifth-year Slytherin, with no visible emotion. "The Killing Curse."

"The Killing Curse," said Moody. "Does exactly what the name says. You're hit by one of these, you're dead. Instantly. There's no counter-curse, no Shield Charm strong enough to resist it. Only one person in living memory has been hit by the Killing Curse and survived. We don't know how he did it, but he's sitting right there."

Harry felt all eyes in the room direct towards him. "Er..." he said, uncertain how to react to this. It had been the Killing Curse then, that claimed the life of both his parents, and the vague image he could sometimes catch in his dreams... "Excuse me," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, "but does this curse involve green light?"

Moody's normal eye kept focused on Harry while his magical eye rolled around in its socked. "Yes," he growled. "The Killing Curse is visible as a flash of green light."

For a moment, Harry was certain that Moody was going to ask why he wanted to know this — but no, after a long look at him the man simply turned around again and raised his voice, addressing the entire student body. "Now, because the Killing Curse has no known counter-curse, passes right through all Shield Charms, and its effect is instantaneous, it's been wrongly classified as unblockable." He sneered. "Which goes to show what they know. The Killing Curse has one weakness; It can't pass through physical objects. It might shatter or destroy them, but it will stop there. So if you're up against that curse, get as many physical objects between yourself and the caster as possible, because if that flash of green light should hit you, any part of you, that's it for you."

He smiled, rather bitterly. "Your only chance then would be that you happen to be the next Harry Potter and somehow miraculously survive. But I wouldn't trust to those chances if I were you."

To say that Mad-Eye Moody's teachings changed the lives of the Hogwarts students would be a gross exaggeration. After the first extraordinary Defence lessons, the next were sporadic, and Moody kept vanishing for days at a time — but everyone had to agree that for such an absent and frankly paranoid Defence instructor, Moody was still vastly superior to Quirrell.

There may even be one or two students who were less certain than before that Voldemort couldn't be back, and there were notably less complaints about the lack of outdoors activities, though Oliver Wood still loudly mourned the continued absence of Quidditch.

November came and went. The parchment with questions were passed back and forth between the male and female members of Potter's Gang several times, but it became depressingly obvious that none of them were getting any closer to finding any sort of answers. And still Quirrell and Snape were gone.

Meanwhile, the weather grew colder and colder, the mountains surrounding the school became icy grey, the lake froze and frost was covering the grounds every morning — until the morning in mid-December, when Hogwarts woke to find the grounds covered in several feet of snow.

Now that winter had officially arrived, a few of the negative sides of living in such an old building were making themselves known in full: The Hogwarts castle was ancient and most of the rooms drafty and poorly-isolated. While the common rooms and the Great Hall were kept nice and warm thanks to continuous roaring fires, the corridors were freezing and several places icicles formed on the ceilings, providing Peeves with a new game: breaking off as many icicles as he could and drop them right in front of unsuspecting students in order to startle them.

The classrooms were a little better than the corridors, though students tended to dress extra warmly for lessons these days. Worst by far was Potions, because the dungeons were almost unbearably cold, which of course Professor Binns completely ignored as he showed up to teach.

"Won't I be glad to return to the Muggle world at Christmas," said Dean Thomas as Gryffindors and Slytherins alike huddled together in clutches for warmth. "Central heating! I never knew what a marvellous thing that was until I didn't have it!"

"Muggle central heating," sneered Malfoy, who wasn't even bothering to listen to Binns's drone. "You people live like animals. I'd offer to show you my home at Christmas, Thomas, just to demonstrate how civilized people live — but it would be wasted on someone like you." He turned to give Harry a cool glance. "I would feel sorry for those who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home, but then I realised that most of them don't even have real homes."

After his dressing-down by Mad-Eye Moody in front of the entire school, Malfoy had grown even sulkier and more inclined to snap at people — probably trying to re-insert some form of superiority — and being Malfoy, he tended to go for the easy targets. Harry's lack of family was always a winner, as was Ronnie's lack of money, Neville's low school performance and Hermione's Muggle heritage.

And it was true that all of Potter's Gang were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. When Professor McGonagall had come around the week before to make a list of all the students who would be staying for the holidays, she had implored that Potter's Gang all stay at Hogwarts this year, for security reasons.

This was fine with Harry and Ronnie. Harry hadn't been planning on going back to Privet Drive unless he absolutely had to, and the Weasleys were also staying anyway, since their parents were going to visit Charlie in Romania.

Neville and Hermione were disappointed, though; they had both been looking forward to seeing their families for the holidays , but McGonagall had promised to personally visit both Hermione's parents and Neville's grandmother to explain ("Don't tell them about Voldemort!" Hermione had begged. "They wouldn't understand, they'd take me out of Hogwarts!"), and Harry had offered to lend them Hedwig, so they could at least send letters home.

Still, both Hermione and Neville were a little subdued as they left the dungeons at the end of Potions — but they soon got other things to think about as they suddenly and unexpectedly found a gigantic fir tree, of all things, blocking the corridor ahead.

It turned out to be Hagrid carrying the tree up to the Great Hall.

"All righ', you four?" he huffed, peeking out from between the branches. "Chin up, Christmas is comin'!"

"Would you mind getting out of the way?" said Malfoy, who was coming up from behind them. "I get that you enjoy spending your times with brutes and savages, but at least have the decency to do it somewhere where your superiors aren't walking!"

"Right, that's it!" Ronnie snarled, and thew herself at Malfoy. She would probably have knocked him to the ground if Neville and Hermione hadn't had the presence of mind to grab her arms and hold her back. "Let go!" she demanded, struggling to get free. "C'mon, Malfoy! You and me! I'll kick your arse so hard —!"

Malfoy, who for once wasn't accompanied by Crabbe or Goyle, took a step back. "You're barking mad, Weasley!" he snapped, though he didn't quite mange to get the usual amount of venom in his voice. "I'll see you expelled from this school if it's the last thing I do — you and the rest of Potter's Gang!"

"Say, Fred, did you just hear a Malfoy make idle threats?" came a sudden voice from the other side of the tree.

"I did, George, but I wouldn't take it too seriously. It's how Malfoys breathe, after all."

As was their habit, the Weasley twins had shown up out of nowhere, and now they came out from behind the tree, looking at Malfoy with disdain.

Malfoy looked at the gathered crowd. "One of these days," he hissed. "You'll be sorry. You'll pay. The lot of you." With that, he turned and slinked away as fast as he could while still trying to make it look like he wasn't running.

"I could have taken him," Ronnie growled.

"An' he woulda reported you, and you would get inter trouble for fightin'," said Hagrid from somewhere between the branches of the fir tree. "Jus' as well tha' Neville an' Hermione stopped yeh."

"He's right," said George. "You've got to learn to control that temper of yours, dear sister."

"Or at least learn to pick your battles," said Fred. "Hey, Neville, you dropped this." He bent over and picked up a piece of parchment that had fallen out of Neville's pocket. "Er - 'questions to consider'?" he read out loud. "'One, is Snape evil?' What's this? Wait, what's the Mirror of Es... Mirror of 'Ess-ired'?" he said, completely mangling the pronunciation. "No, wait, it's Err-ised..."

"That's ours!" Ronnie yelped, rushing over to her brother to try and snatch the parchment away from him.

"Ere now, what's this?" said Hagrid, his huge shaggy head poking out from within the tree branches. "Din't I tell yeh not ter bother abou' that Mirror? 'Sides, it's bin put in the - I mean, it's long gone by now."

But Harry saw the opportunity. "Hagrid," he said. "That thing Quirrell and Voldemort are after —" (he ignored the winces at the mention of the name) "— the thing that Fluffy's guarding. It's the same thing you fetched from Gringotts this Summer, isn't it?"

Hagrid gaped. "How the devil did yeh —?" he began, but then gathered himself. "Listen, Harry. All o' yeh. I get that yer worried abou' what migh' happen, with Quirrell, an' — an' You-Know-Who an' all, but yeh got ter trust Dumbledore! He won' let that Stone get inter the hands o' —"

"Stone?!" everyone chorused.

"I din't say that," said Hagrid, looking mortified. "I absolutely did not say that."

"But Hagrid, what kind of stone —" Hermione began.

"Not sayin'. Not tellin' yeh any more," said Hagrid. "Shouldn'ta told yeh that much in the firs' place. Now please, drop it. I'm off ter put this tree up in the Great Hall. Final touch on the Christmas decorations, it'll look a treat. See yeh later." With that, he withdrew his head back into the tree branches and hurried off, tree and all.

Feeling awkward and slightly guilty about the entire thing, Harry watched him leave. He liked Hagrid and didn't want to put him on the spot like this, but... at the same time, it was getting frustrating that nobody wanted to tell him what was going on.

"What's this all about, anyway?" said Fred, holding out the parchment. "You-Know-Who's after a stone?"

"Heh, maybe it's the Resurrection Stone," George smirked.

"Er, what's the Resurrection Stone?" said Harry, deciding to focus on this rather than on Hagrid.

He wasn't sure how he'd expected the Weasleys to react, but he definitely hadn't expected all three of them to stare at him as if he'd asked what the Sun was or what colour grass had. "The Resurrection Stone!" George repeated. "You know, The Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Harry shook his head in confusion.

"Beedle the Bard!" said George , as if this should mean anything to Harry.

Harry shook his head again, and was surprised to see that Hermione, of all people, was looking completely blank as well.

"Er, you know, Harry and Hermione grew up in the Muggle world," said Neville. "Maybe Muggles don't have Beedle the Bard?"

"What?" said Ronnie. "No, that's impossible, everybody knows Beedle the Bard!"

"What on Earth are you talking about?!" said Hermione impatiently.

"Beedle the Bard! C'mon, Beedle the Bard!" said Ronnie, apparently under the impression that repeating the name often enough would make Hermione know all about it. When this tactic failed, she amended: "The bloke who wrote all the old kids' stories? Babbitty Rabbitty? The Hopping Pot? The Warlock's Hairy Heart?...The Fountain of Fair Fortune, I even told you that one back when we were in the Hospital wing, remember?"

"Er..." Hermione clearly didn't like being the ignorant one for once.

"So they're wizard fairy tales, then?" said Harry. "Like, er, Cinderella?"

Ronnie blinked. "Cinderella? What's that, a disease?"

"Look, the Resurrection Stone is in an old kids' story called The Tale of the Three Brothers," said George hurriedly. "It's a stone with the power to call the dead back to life! I just mentioned it as a joke, it doesn't actually exist!"

Harry felt his heart skip a beat. "But if it did," he said, "it would be extremely valuable, right? And Voldemort would want it, wouldn't he?"

George was so confused he didn't even flinch at the mention of the name. "Well, yeah, I suppose he would? But it really is just a story, Harry."

"Until my eleventh birthday, I thought magic was just a story," said Harry. His head swam with the possibilities. Was it possible — was it possible that the grubby package from Gringotts had contained the Resurrection Stone? Could it be here at Hogwarts, right now? That could mean — it could mean that if he could... he could see his parents again, for real and not just as an image in a mirror. Maybe he could call them back to life, and go live with them, and be free of the Dursleys forever...

"Ronnie, if we go back to the common room now, can you tell me that story?" he asked. "I want to know about the Resurrection Stone."

"Of course," she answered, looking bewildered. "But Harry, are you certain that..."

"Hagrid said 'Stone'! We all heard him!" Harry was trying to not shout with the excitement. "And if I had a stone that could call the dead back to life, I'd keep it secret and in a safe place too! In fact —" Harry lowered his voice. "When I first asked Hagrid why we didn't tell Muggles about magic, he said it was because if we didn't, everyone would want magical solutions to all their problems! It would be the same with the Resurrection Stone, they'd keep it secret because everyone would want to call the dead back!"

The others stared at him.

"I think you're jumping to conclusions here," Fred finally said. "Mind you, personally I wouldn't have minded helping Muggles out with magical solutions to their problems, maybe in exchange for a small fee. Could've been a profitable business, that."

"All right, all right, maybe I am jumping to conclusions," Harry admitted, trying to get his enthusiasm under control. It was of course possible that he just wanted this to be true... but... "But what if I'm not? It could be the Resurrection Stone. It would fit everything we know about the thing so far: It's small, it's a stone, the ones who know about it want to keep it completely secret, Voldemort wants it —" He lowered his voice again. "Remember, Voldemort said he was just a shadow of his former self and had to use Quirrell as a body! He could want the Resurrection Stone to return fully back to life! It would make sense, wouldn't it?"

The others exchanged glances. Finally, Ronnie shrugged. "Make as much sense as anything, I suppose."

"Right. So, why don't we go back to the common room, and you can tell me the story."

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's notes: Yes, I know, I'm mean to get Harry's hopes up like that.

Oh, how many scenes I cut from this chapter in order to get the story to flow better. Among the cut scenes were an extended scene with Percy, Fred and George, one scene with Oliver Wood trying to convince Harry what a great game Quidditch is, and even a scene with Fay Dunbar that highlighted just how isolated the wizarding world is from the Muggle one when she casually mentioned she had never actually talked to a Muggle. I liked all these scenes, but ultimately they didn't add anything to the story.

When it comes to Mad-Eye's lesson on the Unforgiveables, you'll notice that it had some very obvious differences from how his impostor taught Defence against the Dark Arts. There are two reasons for this: The first, and most obvious reason is that I didn't want to just write a carbon copy of Moody's lesson from Goblet of Fire without adding a new spin to it, because where would the fun be in that? And the second, in-universe reason is that while Barty Crouch Jr. Could imitate Moody to perfection, even well enough to fool Dumbledore, he couldn't accurately predict his teaching methods - and even if he got the gist of them from the Imperiused Moody there would be details he missed, either accidentally or deliberately. After all, Muggle-hating Barty might have been loath to teach his students that Muggle-style fighting would ever be acceptable.