Welcome to Act 2. The story slows down a bit here due to heavy and thick plot lines that need to get going.

There might not be an update next week. School is starting to wind down here (two weeks!) and I have LOTS of crap to do before I can call myself 'done' for summer break. I'll try to get it up, but the next chapter is in rough shape and needs a lot of work.

Thanks kdm13, Elspeth, MsFrizzle, Pete, asdgf, schookums, Verdantia, Zireael07, wooftmnt, delenda est c, Crystal R. Black, Cha'90, risi, WhiteFang001, Cherrie-san, w- easy enough, fanficfantasies, Dark Ravie, Saggyherman, Lego Land, Magicalghostgirl, Kendra Dhyanna, Above the Winter Moonlight, Saint Snape, KisunaFuji, BlueWater5, bigrtallfreak, Princess Of God 4 Ever, Catcrazzed, AnaBrest15, geetac, and jesusfreak100percent for the reviews!

Harry Potter and the

Stone of Dreams

– Act 2: Stolen –

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-45- Severus -45-

October 31, 1991

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The holiday Severus despised beyond all others was Christmas. Halloween, however, was a close second. The simple festival became an ever-more-horrifying display with each passing year - mostly due to an overly-spirited headmaster that got his own way far too often.

He had absolutely refused to help put up the endless decorations. How many school supplies could have been purchased for the ridiculous amount that had likely been spent at Zonko's?

He had absolutely refused to be included in planning the festival menu. The children were already fed far too much sugar and sweets. The headmaster had a sweet tooth he indulged, and the house elves apparently fed the students according to his palate.

He had absolutely refused to even attend...

"Severus," the old man sighed, standing in front of Severus's desk with his arms crossed and a startlingly old look on his face. "It's a party. Can't you allow the students some time to act like the children they are?"

"I am not forbidding any student from attending," Severus said, setting his quill on his desk with a bit more force than necessary and weaving his fingers together on the latest stack of books he was searching through. After a sleepless night in the library, his nerves were definitely frayed - he felt a distinct urge to strangle the man. "Even the two that were supposed to have detention tonight will be at the feast."

The headmaster waved his hand dismissively. "You've come every other year. What's different about this year?"

Severus set his teeth. There were many things different about this year. Potter, for one. Evan, for another - although Severus was more and more convinced the two were really one and the same. Not to mention a collection of Weasleys so thick he couldn't shake a stick without hitting one of them. And the young Malfoy boy, who was quickly starting to become more bothersome than his father ever had been. Add on Quirrell and Severus was about to quit and move to someplace warm and devoid of boys, men, and anyone with red hair, glasses, or a stutter. A vacation to a deserted island was looking better and better with every passing day.

Dealing with the idiotic festival today was something he wasn't ready for. He'd wasted the entire night awake and had come to no conclusions what-so-ever. He'd needed to liberally pour potions into his tea all day to keep himself in some semblance of order while dealing with the brats in class. Bed was high on his list of priorities - not a silly feast.

"I am not feeling well," Severus said, only a half-lie. "I will not be attending."

The old man didn't seem at all fazed. In fact, his smile grew. "Poppy would be beside herself if she knew you were ill and went to bed without anything to eat. I insist, Severus. If only for a short while."

Severus stared at him, frowning.

"Or," the man continued with a dangerous twinkle in his blue eyes, "I could send Poppy down here."

A scowl plastered itself onto Severus's face. Using the intrusive mediwitch as a threat was low. As much as he trusted and respected the woman, Severus had absolutely no desire to fall under her medical watch. "Fine," he ground out. "I'll attend for a short period of time, if you insist."

"I'll save you a seat," the headmaster said cheerily as he left the room.

Severus took his time brewing a new pot of tea, dosed with a calming potion, for the feast. Cup in hand, he stalked up to the main hall. The inane, fluttering decorations and stupidly creepy shadows made him sigh as he dropped into his seat the table. "You've overdone yourself, Minerva," he drawled sarcastically.

She arched an eyebrow. "The students enjoy it. And what's the harm?"

"Several of those 'decorations," he said, pointing towards the shadows, "are replicas of very dangerous dark creatures. You're allowing the students to get accustomed to their presence when, in the real world, the students should be running as fast as they can in the opposite direction."

Minerva sighed. "Severus-"

"You are taking deadly creatures and turning them into things to enjoy and laugh at." Severus gripped his cup tightly as he took a sip, muttering under his breath. "It's no wonder this school has a laughable Dark Arts program."

"It's a day of fun, Severus. Not everything has to be a learning experience."

Not wanting to get into the argument, Severus let his gaze drift over the students. His Slytherins were in their places, as expected. He caught the Potter brat sneaking in out of the corner of his eye, but didn't turn to look at him. The child seemed a bit paler than normal.

It was frustrating how many hours he'd wasted trying to solve the mystery of how Potter had gotten that memory, only to come up empty handed. He would need to corner the child again. He sipped at his tea, smirking at the thought of his next class with the boy. The child wouldn't know what hit him.

The chair next to him squeaked loudly on the floor and Severus was flooded with the stench of rotting garlic. He breathed out through his nose to rid the worst of the smell, then scowled down into his empty teacup. A flick of his wand refilled it. The taste of the expensive tea mingled with the odor surrounding the newest addition to the table.

"I-I heard s-something you might b-b-be interested in," Quirrell stammered quietly, sliding a bit closer to him.

Severus hummed darkly, attempting to show his lack of interested without having to actually come out and say it. He was simply not in the mood for dealing with any other problems. His fingers drummed on the empty plate, hoping the house elves would get moving and start the feast already.

But Quirrell was a Ravenclaw and not well known for picking up on social cues. "A-about the item on the-the third floor."

Severus shot the man a look. "I don't want to know," he said.

"B-b-b-"

"No." Severus took another sip of his tea, eying the Slytherins at the long table in front of him. They were chatting quietly, waiting for the meal to appear. Unlike the other boisterous tables, his students were behaving properly.

"Th-there's something…" the man trailed off, patting at his pockets. "I-I-I wanted t-to show you…" A look of confusion crossed his face.

"Lost it?" Severus drawled, feeling a small spike of humor in the situation. At least one thing was going to go his way today.

Quirrell's mouth opened and shut quietly a few times. "I-I'll go and… g-g-get it."

"You do that," Severus murmured, breathing a bit deeper when Quirrell and his stench vanished from the table. He settled more into his chair, relaxing against the cushioned back.

Minerva was biting back a smile. "Found a friend?" she teased.

Severus sent a glare in her direction and didn't reply. When the headmaster clapped his hands and the feast sparkled into view on their table, Severus watched his coworkers dig in, picking at his own food. The calming potion he'd chosen to use made the food taste bland. His eyes drifted back over to the Potter boy, trying to determine the best way to get the information he needed.

Quirrell burst back into the hall, screaming about a troll and breaking his train of thought. As the stuttering man collapsed to the ground and the students began to be herded towards their common rooms, Severus sat there, drumming his fingers against the table. Thoughts were churning in his mind.

The comments Quirrell had made about the item on the third floor. Wanting to show him something. Heard something…

Getting up, Severus strode out the back, ignoring the professors that were gathering to hunt for the troll. He stalked down the hallway, up a few flights of stairs, and ended up standing in front of the door to the third floor corridor.

The door seemed locked and undisturbed. He stood there a moment, staring at it, not quite willing to accept that the troll and Quirrell's comments were a coincidence.

There was a sound – a footstep. Severus paused and turned, eying the deserted hallway. He listened, but didn't hear anything more.

He gasped as his arm burst into pain. Severus sank to the floor, grasping his arm, holding it to stomach as he waited for the worst of the pain to pass. It took several precious seconds before he was able to uncurl his arm and push the sleeve of his robe up enough to see the tattoo. It was dark as it had been when it was new. Blood welled up along the edges.

Severus's mind went absolutely blank. "No," he whispered. "Not yet."

It was no surprise that the Dark Lord would return some day. By the end of the war, the man had not been human enough to die. Rumors had been swirling of the presence of a thing roving around Europe for years.

But this was not the plan Albus Dumbledore had created.

The plan was to wait for the Potter brat to get old enough to be trained. To understand his duty and the prophecy. To grow to be powerful enough to destroy the Dark Lord.

Severus didn't trust or believe in prophesies. They were empty words, spoken by someone who was deluded enough to think they knew the future. He never understood how anyone could believe a seemingly normal child like Potter could destroy a Dark Lord with decades of experience and no qualms about using the darkest of magics.

He trusted Albus Dumbledore much more than a prophecy. And the old man had a plan that - probably - didn't completely revolve around a ludicrous poem crafted by a woman who had breathed in too many fumes as a child. Severus was willing to believe in that plan for the time being and, hopefully, that plan wasn't completely ruined with this turn of events.

Pushing the sleeve back down, Severus climbed to his feet. His mind was whirling as he flicked his wand and blasted the door hiding the Stone to splinters. Hagrid's three-headed mutt looked up at him and growled loudly.

The Dark Lord had returned, and somehow had done it without the Stone. Severus stood still a long moment, staring in disbelief at the undisturbed trap door. The headmaster had been utterly convinced that the Dark Lord was going to use the Stone. The attempt to steal it from Gringotts was proof of that. Nobody had thought twice about a second option.

Slight of hand - an old magic trick even muggles could do. The Dark Lord had given them enough fake clues that they had spent their time staring at something the half-dead man didn't even want. Now he was back and the Headmaster was caught completely flat-footed. It was such a genius, perfectly Slytherin move that Severus couldn't believe he hadn't thought about the possibility.

When the old mutt finally pushed itself to its feet and lunged, Severus flicked his wand and set a shield in place, then repaired the door with another quick spell. He twisted around and stalked quickly back down the dusty corridor, intent on hunting down the headmaster. His body wobbled slightly from side to side, still feeling the effects of the newly returned Dark Mark and the fading effects of his overdose of tea.

A sharp zing ran through his mind and Severus winced, putting a hand to his head. It was the alarm spell he placed on his classroom when he locked the door for the night. Some sneaky little student had chosen a horrible moment to attempt to break in to his stores.

Severus hesitated slightly, trying to decide which to hunt down first, then shook his head sharply. The troll (thus the headmaster) and his classroom were in the same dungeon. If he found the headmaster first, the student would get lucky. If not…

The bone-deep ache of the Dark Mark, his lack of sleep, and his frustration over being broadsided by the Dark Lord leant him an almost grim expectation as Severus made it down the last set of stairs and into the dungeon. He strode towards his classroom, eying the door. Just as he was about to push the door open, a flicker of light caught his attention.

It was a tiny, silver bird. "The troll has been destroyed. All staff report to the staff room immediately," the bird said in the headmaster's voice. There was something strained about the tone the man used.

Severus nodded and dismissed the message, then pushed the door to his classroom open. He was expecting to catch a child sneaking supplies from his storeroom – probably a Gryffindor. A stupid one at that, to be sneaking around in the dungeons with a troll on the loose.

Instead, he saw something lying on the floor.

Severus walked over, his pace picking up as he realized what it was. Some sort of naked body – a small one, skinny, skin looking red and raw. A student…?

Crouching down, thoughts of the troll and the Dark Lord momentarily forgotten, Severus gingerly rolled the child onto his back. The mop of black hair topped a vaguely familiar face. "Potter?" he whispered. His fingers went up to brush at the hair, but the infamous scar wasn't there.

The child shifted, eyes opening ever so slightly. His mouth opened and shut once, one of the raw hands reaching up to claw at Severus's robes. Severus winced when he saw the skin break and blood ooze.

"Hold still, Potter," Severus commanded. "You're hurt."

The brat seemed intent on getting closer to him, continuing to claw at his robe.

Severus placed a hand gently on the child's forehead, figuring the boy was past the point of understanding. "I'm going to get you to the hospital wing," he said, standing up and conjuring a small stretcher.

With a painful moan, the boy stopped fighting as he was floated towards the fireplace. Severus grabbed a handful of the powder kept on the mantle and tossed it in. When the flames roared green, the escorted the child through.

The hospital wing was already busy. Severus set the child – unconscious again, he noticed – onto the nearest cot and flagged down the mediwitch. She sent the boy a look, her eyes went wide, and she hurried over. She barely finished scanning the child before potions were starting to fly through the air towards her.

Confident he was leaving the child in good hands, Severus slipped from the hospital wing and up to the staff meeting. His mind kept venturing back to the hospital wing, as to what Potter might have gotten into to completely flay the skin from his body. And it would have to be on the same night the Dark Lord returned.

That thought made him actually pause mid-walk. Surely it couldn't be a coincidence?

He slunk into the staff meeting. It wasn't until he sat down that Severus actually started to listen to what the other teachers were saying.

"The poor children," Filius muttered.

"Heard they might not ever wake up," Pomona answered back, her face a picture of tragedy. She swiped at her eyes with a handkerchief.

Severus drummed his fingers on the table with a scowl. "What happened?" he asked.

"Minerva tracked down the troll, but not before it got a hold of a few Gryffindor first years," Filius said softly. "You know how trolls are with their clubs."

Severus winced slightly. A slight first year against a troll's club – it did not bode well for the child. "Who?"

"Ms. Granger," Pomona put in, "and Mr. Potter."

Severus's hands went still. His head tipped slightly and his eyes narrowed. "Potter?" That wasn't possible. The brat had been in his classroom…

"I know," Pomona said, breaking into tears. "Such a nice child!"

The door to the staff room opened and the headmaster strode in. His normally twinkling eyes were dark. "Poppy says the children have a good chance of surviving the night," he said as he settled into his chair. The lines on his face were deeper and more shadowed then normal. "Although Mr. Potter's prospects are grim long term. He took a rather severe blow to his head."

Severus couldn't help but picture how a child's head would fare when in contact with a troll's club. His mouth twisted. It was surprising the child was still alive.

"The troll has been destroyed," the headmaster continued quietly. "I would like you to go to your houses and explain what's going on. Be positive, please, but prepare them for the worst. Classes will be cancelled tomorrow."

"Minerva?" Filius asked.

"I will talk with her house. Minerva is up in the hospital wing as well." The headmaster rested his arms on the table. "I believe she will be taking some time off when she wakes up."

The professors around the table nodded and slowly left the staff room, somber and quiet. Eventually it was only Severus and the headmaster remaining. The man looked at Severus.

Severus couldn't help but notice that every year of the man's long life seemed to be hanging on him. He glanced down at his arm, not particularly wanting to add to the man's burden. Finally he took a steadying breath, got up, and walked over to the headmaster.

"Severus," the man said. "Do you have something?"

Severus simply pulled up the sleeve of his robe. The Mark had faded slightly, the edges blurred, but it was still dark and clear on his skin.

Albus's eyes closed. "I had wondered," he whispered. "The Stone?"

"Untouched, as far as I could tell," Severus answered.

"Thank Merlin for small wonders."

Letting his sleeve fall back down, Severus eyed the headmaster. "Do we have a plan?"

"Not at the moment," the man admitted softly. Very slowly, he got to his feet. "For now, we simply need to wait and pray."

Severus nodded slowly, then left the man standing alone in the staff room. As he paced down towards his waiting Slytherin students, Severus couldn't help but have his thoughts drift towards the boy lying in the hospital wing.

Who was he?

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...

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-46- Severus -46-

November 1, 1991

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The impromptu holiday the headmaster had called wasn't at all satisfying. The houses were quiet and grim. Several groups of Gryffindor students were sitting around outside, many wearing quickly-made lightning-shaped badges on their lapels.

Severus had spent the night tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about the Dark Lord, Potter's fate, and the strange child that had shown up in his classroom. No other students had been reported missing. After grabbing a quick breakfast, Severus headed up to the hospital wing.

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey greeted softly poking her head out from her office. Her eyes were narrowed in a 'I need to talk with you' sort of way.

Severus nodded a reply, then walked over to check on the two children that had run into the troll. The girl seemed to be resting peacefully. In the next bed over, Potter was not doing nearly as well. His face was molted purples and greens. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his upper body and head. Small bits of dark hair poked out here and there and the scar was just visible on his forehead.

Convinced that Potter really was lying in the bed, Severus walked over to the last bed and poked his head through the curtain. The strange boy he'd found in his classroom was lying on the bed, wrapped completely in bandages. Severus walked over and quietly sat down in the chair next to the bed.

He stared at the child, half-wishing that he could pick secrets out of a sleeping brain, when he realized that two eyes were staring back at him. The eyes were an eerie green-blue.

And very suddenly, the boy's identity dropped into place. Severus felt his heart stop in his chest.

The curtain moved. "Severus," Poppy said. Her eyes fell on the child. "Ah, you're awake. Feeling a bit better?"

The boy's eyes roved from Severus to the mediwitch. Then there was a short nod. He moved his hands, pressing them against the bed.

"Oh, no," the mediwitch scolded, "you are to remain lying down. You'll need a few more doses of Skin Repair before you're doing anything like sitting up." She waved her wand over his head, watching the colorful results. "Still no sign of an infection," she said with a bit of a smile.

Severus hadn't moved. He just sat there, his hands curled around the ends of his armrests, watching the scene and unwilling to believe what his mind was telling him. It felt like he was watching something on a movie screen, detached from his life.

It simply wasn't possible.

A potion whipped through the air. "You drink this now," Poppy said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and lifting the child's head a bit so he could down the potion.

The boy coughed and sputtered.

"Ah, I know it doesn't taste very good," the mediwitch said, lying the child's head back on the pillow. "But it's for the best. You'll feel rather sleepy soon." Her eyes fixed on Severus. "Don't you keep him awake," she said firmly.

Severus managed a nod and the woman vanished back through the curtains. He just sat there, staring at the child.

The boy moved weakly in the bed, almost like he was squirming.

"Evan…" he said softly.

The child's eyes focused on him. There was a strange sense of calm and trust in his gaze. It didn't take more than a few moments before the eyes fluttered and closed and the boy drifted back off to sleep.

Severus sat there for a few long minutes, now and then shaking his head as he tried to come up with an explanation. He'd been so convinced that Potter and Evan were connected. That perhaps the two were the same person. But then how could his little ghost…?

With a frustrated huff, Severus pushed himself to his feet and stepped out from behind the curtains, his mind feeling like it was whirling around in circles. He prided himself on generally catching on to what was going on rather quickly. In this case, though, he was at a complete loss. He couldn't even begin to explain what was going on - or why.

Evan was…?

He turned back around to stare at the curtains. Time travel? Alternate dimension? But neither made sense – Potter knew the boy. And they couldn't be one and the same person with them lying in separate beds in the same room… But then how could Potter have a memory that was clearly not his…?

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling almost helpless. "There goes every theory," he muttered, twisting on his heel and stalking towards the door. A flare of anger slipped in to his mind at the thought of having to start all of his theories over from scratch. He glanced towards the curtain hiding the comatose Potter from the world, catching a rustling of curtain as Minerva walked unsteadily out from behind it. "Minerva," he greeted softly.

The woman's eyes were red and puffy, her hair a mess and falling from her normally neat bun. "Severus," she murmured, looking around the hospital wing like she was surprised to see it. Her body started to tip to the side, but she caught herself before Severus could reach out to steady her. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting," Severus answered blandly. "Are you alright?"

"Quite fine," Minerva said, patting at her hair. "I just-"

"Minerva!" Poppy's voice was a hiss as she stalked from her office. "What are you doing out of bed?"

Severus watched, a bit amused, as Minerva blinked groggily at the woman. "I…" she trailed off uncertainly.

"You have enough draughts in you to knock out a hippogriff," Poppy informed her, grabbing onto Minerva's elbow. "You're not even properly awake. To bed, dear."

Minerva shook her head, turning to look at the curtains hiding her two first year students. "I'll go to bed when they wake up," she said stubbornly, digging in her heels. Severus thought she sounded like a obstinate first-year.

Poppy hummed and nodded, then pulled her wand and made a sharp little gesture. Severus recognized the move – the woman had just spelled something into Minerva's stomach.

"What was that?" Minerva asked, her body already starting to sag.

"I'll wake you up when you the children are ready to talk," Poppy soothed, steering the almost-asleep Minerva into a bed. "You need the sleep."

Minerva made a few noises that Severus assumed were disagreements, but the woman was already asleep. Poppy pulled a blanket out to cover her, then drew the curtains for a bit of privacy.

Just about to turn and walk away, Severus was halted by a sharp look and a soft, "I need to speak with you." Straight backed, the woman swept into her office.

Feeling like there was something horrible about to happen, Severus followed. The door closed behind him with a click, Poppy waving her wand to cast a complicated one-way silencing charm. She'd be able to hear what happened in the hospital wing, but nobody would be able to hear her.

"I need an explanation," she said.

Severus knew exactly what she was talking about – she wanted to know about Evan – but he hesitated. There was a very long, convoluted history that he didn't want to get in to at the moment. Not until he understood what was going on. "He was in my classroom," Severus finally said.

Poppy shot a glance out her office doors in the direction the boy lay. "Severus, I could get thrown in Azkaban just for having that thing in my hospital wing," she hissed.

Stopping, Severus looked towards the boy, then back to Poppy. "That thing?" he repeated, completely confused.

A little line of worry vanished from the woman's forehead. Apparently Severus had given the right answer. She took a deep breath, then shook her head. Her voice was barely audible. "That boy's a golem."

Severus felt the ground drop out from underneath him. A golem? "Are you sure?" His voice also dropped to a whisper, despite the silencing charm that would prevent anyone from overhearing.

"Completely," she answered.

A golem: a soul trapped within the confines of a constructed form. Severus shuddered at the thought. The souls of the dead always fought the confinement, slowly going mad and destroying themselves in the process. It was one of the darkest of the Dark Arts, and one that was highly banned. After the mess with Grindelwald and all the golems he'd made, the Ministry thoroughly squashed anything to do with the things. Simply studying about golems could get him thrown into Azkaban, much less having found one in his classroom. Especially when he had a less than stellar personal history with the Dark Arts.

If the Ministry found out, there wouldn't be a trial. There would simply be a Dementor at his doorway, ready to Kiss him…

"Severus!"

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Severus took a steadying breath. Coming to a quick decision, Severus pulled up his sleeve and showed Poppy the Dark Mark on his arm. It had faded even more, only the center of the mark still clear and black.

"Severus…" This time, the tone of her voice was different.

"The troll was no coincidence. Nor, do I believe, it's targeting of Potter and his friends," Severus said quietly.

"The stone?" Poppy whispered.

"Still safe." Severus turned his attention to the child… the golem… lying in the hospital wing. "I don't think this was coincidence either."

Poppy's hands came up to clutch at her chest. "Do you think… Did You-Know-Who make it?"

Severus was quiet for a very long moment. If the Ministry caught wind of the golem's existence, it wasn't just Severus's life on the line. The created body would be destroyed and Evan's soul would be scattered and broken, never to be seen again. Severus felt a strange punch to his gut when he thought about Evan's soul being destroyed. He looked out the window at the curtains hiding the ghost. "How long can you give me to find out?" he asked.

"Severus-"

"Poppy," he said, turning to look at her. He knew how much he was asking. Her not reporting this would put her in Azkaban for the rest of her life, if not simply Kissed.

The woman was near tears. She picked at her uniform, then smoothed out the wrinkles she'd made. But she straightened her shoulders. "I trust you, Severus," she said. Her voice trembled, but the resolution was there.

Severus nodded slowly and stared out the window towards the young golem. "What do you know?" he asked.

"I don't think it was completely formed when the soul was put in," Poppy said softly. "I'm pretty sure the soul doesn't realize what's happened to it yet."

"Anything else?"

Poppy shook her head. "I don't know anything about golems, Severus," she murmured.

"Me neither," Severus said softly. He slowly got to his feet.

"Albus-"

"The fewer people that know the better," Severus interrupted softly.

Poppy nodded after a moment. "I'm going to be kept in the loop." It wasn't a question or a demand. Simply a statement of fact.

Severus inclined his head. "Of course." He met her eyes for a second before turning to grab the doorknob.

There was trust, but also fear, in her gaze. "Severus…" she sighed. "I'm not ready for this to start again."

Severus couldn't agree more.

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...

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To be continued...