Ohai-yo,

We'll here we are, the beginning of the end. Chapter 13 was the first chapter that I completely scrapped and rewrote by hand. I think you will appreciate that change as I think it made the whole thing feel much better. We'll see what you have to say.

I should warn you all, there is a great deal of fluffiness in this chapter as our young heroes continue to mature and grow. Many of you have wondered if I have jumped the gun a little bit with their growing awareness of the world around them, especially where relationships are concerned. I think it fairly natural for them to be moving in this direction early due to the situations they have already faced, including being away from their home and parents for the first time. Hogwarts may be a magical school, but that does not mean that these kids would not have had to grow up very fast. Even Jo knew this, which is why she made the legal age for the Magical world 17, rather than 18 or 21. That's just my opinion though.

I'm currently typing up 14 and 15, after they're done I'll ship them off to my betas and get to them to you as soon as possible. I'm almost done writing 16 and hope to have it type up soon as well.

Thanks go out as always to my lovely and talented betas, C & M. They always find a way to make me sound far better then I really am.

Now go read, and please review.

Chris

Chapter 13: The Philosopher

Harry had read about a game played by deranged or thrill seeking Muggles called "Russian Roulette." Until recently, he had never understood why anyone would play such an insane game, but in the weeks following the start of the new term he understood exactly how it felt to play. Sleep had become Harry's own personal version of the game, each and every night. His dreams were either of Ginny, filling him with a sense of warmth, or they were filled with images of his parents' death. It was more often the later of the two.

It had all started with Harry's first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the term. Quirrell had been his regular stuttering, and obviously false, self during the class. Within moments of the start of class, Harry's head had started to hurt. By the time the class was over and they walked out the door, he felt as if someone had been trying to burn their way into his head through the scar on his forehead. That night had been the first night he had experienced the dream about his parents' death, and since that night had had suffered countless repetitions of his mother's screams and flashes of green light. At least, he thought it was his mother, because sometimes it sounded like Ginny.

Ron and Neville had both noticed that Harry was having problems sleeping. More than once, one or the other had shaken him awake when he started screaming in his sleep. Harry told his three friends all about the dreams, hoping that one of them might have an explanation or solution for the dreams, but they were all just as confused by the dreams as he was. As for his dreams concerning Ginny, Harry did not dare tell the boys about those, fearing Ron's reaction to Harry dreaming about his sister.

Harry saved the conversations about Ginny for when he and Hermione were alone. He figured that if anyone would understand what he was feeling, it would be Hermione. She would just sit and listen as he explained to her how the dreams seemed to calm his mind and soothe his spirit. Hermione would just sit and listen quietly while he told her about the most recent dreams he had experienced, often wearing a thoughtful and somewhat wistful expression as he talked. One day, after telling Hermione about his most recent dream, she had suddenly stood up from her seat across from him in the common room. Walking silently over to one of the tower windows, Harry watched her stare out at the ground below. Harry followed her over to the window, trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

"As long as I can remember," she whispered, "I have dreamed that someday a knight riding on a white horse would come rescue me."

Harry listened to her talk; it was only fair that he should since she had done the same for him. "For a little while I thought I had finally found him, but I was wrong. You on the other hand met the one you are looking for, before you even realized you were looking for her. Now you are dreaming about her. Is that really so strange, Harry?"

"I wasn't looking for anyone," protested Harry. "It's just these strange dreams I keep having."

Hermione turned to face him, a strangely sad smile on her face. "How often do you two write each other?"

"I don't know," Harry said with a slight blush. "A few times a week, maybe."

"Try almost every day," she replied with that same sad smile. "Don't try to deny it, Harry. I've seen you running down to the Owlery before breakfast so many times that I'm surprised you don't do it in your sleep. Not to mention that there is rarely a day that goes by when Hedwig doesn't bring you a letter from Ginny."

"But that's just because she's one of my best friends," protested Harry. "That doesn't mean I was looking for her."

"What's your last thought of the night, Harry?" Hermione asked, turning to look back out the window.

Harry wanted to say it was anything other than Ginny, but he could not bring himself to lie to Hermione.

"I'll take your silence as the answer to my question," she said quietly. "I would guess that she is also the first thing on your mind in the morning, or very close to it."

Once again, Harry wanted to tell Hermione that she was completely off the mark, but the words just would not come.

"I guess I was right about that as well," Hermione sighed. "You're lucky, Harry. You found someone who is your best friend, and who you feel so strongly about. I really envy you. I wish someone felt the same way about me as you feel about Ginny."

Hermione drifted off into silence, and suddenly something clicked in Harry's mind. The way Hermione had followed them around, even when they had treated her badly. The way she always listed to everything Harry said, even when Ron or Neville were talking as well. It all made sense to him suddenly, including how he felt about Ginny.

"But I don't feel the same way about Hermione as I do about Ginny," he thought to himself. "I've never had one before, but I imagine that she is closer to being a sister than anything else."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he finally said. "You're right, I just hadn't looked at it before."

"You have nothing to feel sorry about, Harry," she said softly, but Harry cut her off by putting his arm around her shoulder.

"Yes, I do," he said gently. "I've been so absorbed in my own problems that I forgot to look around. Maybe if I had, I would have noticed that someone important to me was hurting. I might not be able to be her knight on a white horse, but maybe I can be a better friend to her. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me, Harry," whispered the now crying girl, hugging him tightly. "There might be some hope for you yet."

There were three immediate results of Harry's conversation with Hermione. The most noticeable was that he stopped having nightmares almost immediately. Thankfully, just like after Harry had discovered the mirror, his dreams were once again filled with warm thoughts of Ginny. Usually they were images of them talking alone by the lake, or at his house. Occasionally they would be sitting with his parents, although in those dreams his parents never said anything, probably because Harry could not remember ever hearing their voices.

The second major change was Harry's relationship with Hermione. After their conversation, Harry tried to pay more attention to what he said around her, and to what she said around him. This meant he was more aware when she was being serious and when she was teasing them. Surprisingly, Hermione had a better sense of humor than they had ever suspected. The only thing she never joked about was making sure their homework was done. Harry realized that Hermione was letting him see that side of her personality, and it touched him after their conversation and his realization of her feelings for him.

"I can't be what she wants" he thought to himself, "but I can try to be the best friend possible to her."

The final change was the one that shook Harry the most, even though it started out with the smallest of things. The change was in how he thought about Ginny. It started off when he received a letter from her a few days after his conversation with Hermione. Before his conversation with the young witch, Harry had always seemed to just blurt things out to her as he wrote. After his conversation, Harry paid more attention to what he was writing. He still told her everything that was going on, but now he would also talk about how he felt about those things. Ginny seemed to understand and appreciate what he was doing because her replies suddenly became just as expressive. Harry wondered if this was part of what the older students called "taking it to the next level," whatever that meant. Of course, their increasing closeness did cause Harry a small amount of embarrassment.

"Hermione?" he said to her at breakfast, looking at Ginny's most recent letter. "What does it mean when someone adds a bunch of X's and O's at the end of letter?"

The bushy haired young girl nearly choked on her juice before she looked up at him with a strange smile on her face.

"You all right, Hermione?" asked Neville as he and Ron arrived for breakfast.

"Someone sent Harry a letter with X's and O's on it," she answered calmly, but the twinkle in her eyes could have put Dumbledore to shame.

Suddenly both boys were laughing uncontrollably, even Hermione giggling as Harry started to get a little annoyed. "Okay. Now that you've had your laugh at my expense, can someone please tell me what's so bloody funny?"

"Ignore them, Harry," Hermione said, finally getting her laughter under control. "They're just jealous."

Harry was still annoyed, and was now confused as well. "Jealous of what, Hermione?"

"When someone, hopefully a girl," snorted Neville, "sends you a letter signed with X's and O's, it means they are sending you…"

Ron cut in at that point, laughing so hard that he actually had tears in his eyes. "It means hugs and kisses, Harry. What daft bird is sending you a letter like that?"

Harry's temper had reached the boiling point as he glared at his friend. "Well let's think about that, shall we? Who writes to me almost every day, Ron? I mean who sends me letters almost every day, and who do I write to just as much?"

Ron looked confused for a moment before what Harry had asked finally seemed to sink in. Suddenly the red haired boy went completely white before suddenly blushing so furiously that Harry could almost feel the heat coming off his friend. As realization sank into Ron's mind, his friends watched a wide gamut of emotions play out across his face. The most obvious was shock, but there was also a momentary flash of anger. Then Ron closed his eyes and seemed to nod to himself, the anger vanishing from his face.

"I can't say I wasn't expecting it," he sighed. "You're all she talked about this summer after the two of you started writing. So you just make sure you protect her."

Now it was Harry's turn to be stunned, and from the look on their faces, so were Neville and Hermione. They all knew how protective Ron was when it came to his sister, but here he was telling Harry that it was ok with him if Harry and Ginny got together. Harry could only sit there, staring at Ron in awe, wondering if he had underestimated his friend from the very beginning.

"I promise, Ron," was all Harry could think to say. "I think we've got some time before we start worrying about protecting people. After all, we're only eleven, mate."

Ron shook his head, his face looking remarkably wise as he spoke. "We've faced trolls, you've almost died playing Quidditch, and there is a giant three-headed dog in the school. I'd say the time to protect each other is here, right now, Harry."

As Harry lay in his bed that night writing to Ginny, he thought about how he felt about her and about Ron's words. Hermione had been right. Ginny had been his first and last thought of each day for a long time now. If even Ron thought it was okay for Harry to "like" Ginny, then what was wrong with admitting it to himself? Finally, looking up at Ginny's smiling picture, Harry smiled to himself.

"Does it really matter at this moment?" he though. "For Christ's sake, I'm only eleven, and she's only ten. I've got plenty of time to figure it all out. No matter what though, she's always going to be my very best friend, and I will protect her."

The smile never left Harry's face as he continued to write down a few last thoughts. When he was finally done, and before he signed it, he reached under his pillow to pull out Ginny's most recent reply to him. Harry quickly skimmed over the letter and down to her signature before adding the same number of X's and O's to the end of his own letter. He followed that with his name and a small postscript.

"PS. I never knew what a signature like yours meant before, but I do now. I just want you to know that I mean each of mine in return. XO. Harry."

If Harry had been worried about Ginny's response to his letter, her reply quickly set his mind to ease. They both agreed to being a little young for dating, but they also agreed that eventually they wanted to try it. Until that day, the two of them would remain the best of friends, no matter what. That thought alone kept a smile on Harry's face for the remainder of the week.

So it was not unexpected that several days later, during Quidditch practice, Harry found himself daydreaming about what it would be like to someday actually date Ginny. His understanding of what actually dating someone entailed was very vague, so most of his thoughts revolved around holding her hand and going to places like the museum or out to eat. Whatever the case, his flying was suffering and Wood did not seem at all happy about it as he watched Harry's erratic flying. To top it off, the Weasley twins had spent most of practice acting like complete fools rather than paying attention to what they were doing. The only real warning they had that something was wrong was the sound of a Quaffle hitting Fred in the chest, knocking him clean off his broom.

"Knock it off, you two!" roared Wood, his arms still outstretched from throwing the Quaffle at Fred. "Keep this up and we'll lose the match against Hufflepuff!"

"Like that would ever happen, Oliver," grunted Fred, picking himself up off the ground. "You're the best Keeper in the school, probably the best one this school has seen in years."

"And between Fred and I," continued George, "there's not a bludger yet that can get past us."

"Not to mention that Harry is the best Seeker we've ever seen," Fred added, climbing back on his broom. "Just don't tell Charlie we said that."

Harry could not help but blush after the compliment, but he had something to add as well. "Don't forget the girls, Wood," Harry said looking at the women of the team. "They're the best Chasers in school, and right pretty to boot."

Angelina, Katie, and Alicia each blushed at Harry's words, but smiled back at him with genuine looks of appreciation that he thought so highly of them. They each muttered thank you to him, before turning their attention back to their captain.

"It doesn't matter," sighed Wood, dragging a hand through his hair. "Professor McGonagall told me this morning that Snape is refereeing the next game."

Everyone instantly fell silent for a long moment before Angelina summed up their shock with two simple words.

"We're fucked."

Her words seemed to break through the wall of disbelief that had surrounded the team. Suddenly everyone was talking at once.

"What's that greasy haired plonker up to?" yelled Fred.

"He'll use every trick in the book to make sure we lose!" shouted George.

"He's really not that bad," Harry said calmly, earning him several shocked looks from his teammates.

"Are we talking about the same Snape?" Fred asked, looking closely at Harry.

"He hates Gryffindor!" ejaculated George.

"I'm serious," continued Harry. "Professor Snape just does what he has to in order to keep the Slytherins in line. He's always been nice to my friends and me."

"Then we're lucky you're on the team, Harry," Wood smiled. "Maybe he'll play fair with you around."

When finally made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower an hour later, he could not help but wonder why Snape had volunteered to referee the match. Did the Potions Master suspect someone was going to try something at the match? That had to be it, because the team had been right, Professor Snape did not seem the type to care about Quidditch. Harry suddenly wanted very badly to talk to his Potions teacher. He decided that he would confront the man after his Potions class the next day.

Seeing his friends at their regular table in the common room, Harry hurried over to tell them all about Professor Snape's sudden interest in Quidditch. Grabbing a seat at the table, he wasted no time telling his friends everything. Ron and Neville looked confused, informing Harry that as far as they knew, Snape had never refereed a Quidditch match before. Hermione just looked worried as she listened to the boys talking.

"He must think someone is out to get you, Harry," she finally whispered.

"Quirrell," corrected Neville.

"Whatever," she said, sounding a bit frustrated. "I just want to know who he suspects."

"Quirrell," coughed Ron.

"Yes, yes," Hermione sighed. "I know your theory."

Harry cut her off at that point. "It's not a theory, Hermione. My instincts tell me that Quirrell can't be trusted and that he's up to something. I trust my instincts, and I would hope you trust me enough to do the same."

"Of course I trust you, Harry," Hermione said, looking rather ashamed of herself. "What do we do about this then?"

"We take precautions," smirked Harry.

All three friends listened intently as Harry explained his plan for the upcoming match. Each of them nodded to show they understood their part in it. When they were done listening, Harry made his way up to his room to write Ginny about the day, but mostly he just wanted to sleep. Safe in the knowledge that his friends would be watching his back, Harry drifted off into dreamless sleep.

Unfortunately, if Harry thought the next day was going to be a peaceful one, he was sadly mistaken. It started with Peeves, the poltergeist, waking them up by dropping enormous water balloons on them the next morning. Not only was it a horrible way to wake up, but their beds were soaking wet and no amount of wand work would dry them. It seemed that the mischievous spirit had charmed the balloons to prevent them from being easily cleaned up. The day just went downhill from there.

By lunch it was obvious that Malfoy and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, were out for blood, and Harry and his friends were their prey of choice. Every time Harry and his friends turned around that day, they were either being jinxed or tormented in some fashion by Malfoy or one of his followers. Potions class was a nightmare. After the third time that Harry's potion mysteriously exploded, so did the Potions Master.

"POTTER!" bellowed Professor Snape. "See me after class!"

Harry hung his head in apparent shame, but he was actually quite happy with the turn of events. Now he would have the perfect excuse to talk to Professor Snape without drawing too much attention from the Slytherin students. Of course, the bonus of the situation was that Malfoy, feeling that he had accomplished his goal of getting Harry in trouble, stopped jinxing Harry's cauldron so that Harry was able to scratch together a final potion that was at least partially acceptable.

"Let me guess," Professor Snape said calmly after the other students had left, "Draco and his flunkies giving you a hard time?"

Harry nodded emphatically. "All day, sir. I think he even talked Peeves into helping him this morning."

Snape nodded as he cleaned up several spilled potions left behind by the Slytherin students. "Peeves is rather easily bribed, and he is terrified of the Bloody Baron. Although, rumor has it, there is another spirit in this castle that he even more afraid of."

"Who, sir?"

"Well, and this is only a rumor, but Moaning Myrtle rather terrifies our resident poltergeist," Snape said with a rather vicious smirk. "She has been looking for someone to love for a very long time, and Peeves is something of a pet project of hers. He just can't help teasing her, and she just can't help but chase after him. I wonder what would happen if someone encouraged her in her pursuit of Peeves?"

Harry liked the idea, and grinned up at the Potions Master. "Whatever his reaction, he would be way too busy to bother students anymore."

"Exactly," smirked Snape.

"Sir? Can I ask you a question?" Harry asked, hoping to get the answers he really wanted to hear. "Why are you refereeing our game this weekend?"

Snape paused for a moment, taken by surprise by Harry's unexpected question. Harry watched as Snape seemed to consider what his answer should be. Finally, the Potions Master turned to Harry and motioned for the young boy to take a seat.

"You and I know that someone tried to kill you during your first Quidditch match," began the Potions professor. "If not for your own skill, and the fact that I was trying to counter the curse, you would be dead."

Harry nodded in agreement, but he was still annoyed with the other part of Snape's statement. "Sir, all I did was what everyone else did when we were first learning to fly our brooms. I did nothing special."

"That's just a test, Harry," Snape said quietly, "and one you passed with flying colors."

"I don't understand, sir."

The Potions professor chuckled softly, a sound that Harry had never expected to hear in his lifetime.

"I was worried when I first saw you that you would let your fame get the better of you," smiled Snape. "Now that I have gotten a chance to know you, I can see that you are your mother's son. However, and I never thought I would hear myself say this, but maybe this time you should be a little more like your father."

"I'm not sure I understand, sir," Harry said, looking rather confused.

"Harry," Snape said, looking into Harry's eyes and taking on a hard expression. "Your father and I were never friends. In fact, I think it is safe to say that we loathed one another."

Harry started to protest, but Snape held up his hand to stop him. "I admit that I was not exactly pleasant in my younger days. I will also admit that he had many good traits. Traits, Harry, that you share with him, and should be proud of."

"I'm not sure I understand, sir."

"What I'm getting at," Snape continued, "is that your father, for all his faults, was a very talented wizard, just like you."

Remembering his last letter from Sirius, and his uncle's comment about how much Snape and his father had hated each other, Harry could not hold his tongue. "That really had to hurt, sir."

Snape almost laughed at Harry's comment. "You have no idea, but, to answer your original question, yes, I think that someone will try something at the match. I don't think your mother would ever forgive me if I allowed something to happen to her son."

Harry tried to get more out of the Potions professor but the man dismissed him a few moments later without another word about his worries about the upcoming game. Knowing it was a lost cause to try and pry the information out of him, Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor tower to tell the others about what Snape had said to him. He was still curious as to why Snape was so concerned about what Harry's mother would think of his actions. Harry could not help but wonder if his suspicions about Snape were true.

"I'm sure there was something between my mother and him," he thought as he gave the password to the Fat Lady.

Hermione and Ron were sitting at their usual table when Harry walked in. There was no sign of Neville, but Harry could fill him in later. Just as he sat down, he heard the portrait swing open again followed by the sound of several laughs, and a scream. When he turned around to look, even Harry fought a momentary urge to laugh, but he quickly lost the urge when he got a closer look at the figure that stumbled into the common room.

"NEVILLE!" screamed Hermione as they all ran toward their friend.

Neville was a mess. It was obvious that someone had hit him with a Leg Locker curse, but then they had beaten him until he was a bloody mess. Neville's face looked horrible, a trickle of blood running from his mouth and his eyes swollen almost completely closed. From the look of him, the wounded young boy must have bunny hopped up to the tower, using the last of his strength just to get there. Harry just barely reached him before Neville collapsed into Harry's arms.

Harry did not even need to think about what to do next. Picking Neville up in his arms, even though the unconscious boy was just as tall as he was, Harry ran out of the common room and towards the hospital wing. He moved so quickly that even with Neville's added weight, Ron and Hermione found it difficult to keep up with him.

"Got to move faster!" was Harry's only conscious thought as he ran past three very startled figures.

"Mr. Potter!" called Professor McGonagall, but Harry was already too far away to hear her.

"Was that Mr. Longbottom he was carrying?" Dumbledore asked, turning to follow Harry, and only just avoided being run over by Ron and Hermione.

By the time they all caught up to Harry, Madame Pomfrey was already busy examining Neville. She had immediately removed the Leg Locker curse, and was now trying to heal the worst of his wounds, including several broken ribs. Harry just stood watching from nearby, his back to the door as he waited to see if Neville would be all right. Much to everyone's surprise, he did not seem to be out of breath, or even sweating after running all the way to the hospital wing. Neither the teachers nor his friends could say the same, and it took them several moments to catch their breath before they could ask him what was going on.

"Harry," said Dumbledore in a serious tone. "Would you care to explain why you were running through the hallways, disregarding your safety, as well as the safety of another student?"

"Headmaster," Snape said, looking over at the bed with Neville's broken and bloody form on it.

"Safety," hissed Harry, as he watched Madame Pomfrey work. "That's rich."

"Harry," Hermione said gently, trying to calm him.

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, not having bothered to look over to where Neville was being treated for his injuries.

"Where were your concerns for safety when Neville was being beaten by students here in your school?" snapped Harry, pointing over to Neville before turning to stare coldly at the three teachers. "Better yet, where were you when he was forced to hop up to our common room for help. I saw plenty of people in the corridors on my way here, but no one helped him or worried a bit about his safety! Are you telling me that no one saw he was injured and in need of help? Where was your bloody safety then!"

"Mr. Potter! You will not address faculty members in such a fashion!" McGonagall shouted, using her most intimidating voice on Harry, but he was unfazed.

"THE HELL I WON'T!" Harry shouted right back, causing the older woman to actually take a step back in shock.

"Harry," Dumbledore said coldly. "You will not yell at Professor McGonagall or me."

"Watch me," Harry snarled back, just as coldly.

Snape just watched the scene in front of him, his jaw hanging in shock as he listened to Harry tell both professors about what had been going on that day. All about the problems they had been having with the Slytherin students, and about Neville finally collapsing into Harry's arms. What truly shocked the Potions Master was the fact that Harry did not seem to be even remotely intimidated by Dumbledore's icy cold stare. In fact, both of them seemed to be doing their best to burn holes in the other with only their eyes.

"Make no mistake, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore snarled in a last ditch attempt to make Harry back down. "The safety of my students is my primary concern, and I do not take kindly to anyone insinuating that it is not."

Dumbledore's last hopes of regaining control of the situation faded as Harry laughed in his face before stepping aside and pointing to Neville's broken and bloody form. "Take a look at your handiwork then, old man. Then ask me if I should ever believe you again."

Everyone was stunned when Dumbledore, his face suddenly chalk white, turned and ran from the room, leaving an infuriated Harry Potter standing behind him. Only Professor McGonagall saw his face as the Headmaster ran from the room, and she would have sworn he was crying. Whatever the case, Dumbledore ran from the room as if all the hounds of Hell were chasing after him. McGonagall watched him go, speechless that an eleven-year-old boy had stood up to, and won an argument against the "Great Albus Dumbledore."

"It was Draco," Snape whispered, "wasn't it?"

"I don't know yet," Harry said, his voice once again calm as he turned back to his injured friend. "Neville hasn't woken up yet, but if I had to guess then I would say yes."

"Was it really been that bad today, Harry?" asked the now pale and shaking Transfiguration teacher.

Harry just motioned back to where Neville was being treated by Madame Pomfrey. The matron was currently working on Neville's left hand, which seemed to have suffered several broken bones as well as his other injuries. When Harry turned to look at her, she could not look him in the eyes.

"Does it look like I'm exaggerating, Professor?" he asked in a deadly quiet voice.

Harry's words had shaken the faculty of the school badly, even the ones that had only heard about them second hand. He had shaken them all so badly that, much to Hermione's surprise, he was not punished in any way for his behavior towards the Headmaster and professors. In fact, he was actually given twenty house points for his quick thinking in getting Neville to the hospital ward so quickly. Harry ignored the points, considering them a bribe in an attempt to erase the guilt the professors felt regarding the condition Neville had been put in under their watch. Ron agreed with Harry.

Neville did not wake up until early Saturday morning, thanks in part to a powerful sleeping potion he had been given by the concerned matron. Harry thought it was probably a good idea considering Neville had still screamed a few times in his sleep while Madame Pomfrey had been magically setting his broken bones. For her part, Madame Pomfrey just kept telling Harry how grateful Neville should be that he had a friend as quick thinking as Harry. When they stopped by to check on him before the Quidditch match, Neville was already awake and sitting up in bed.

"Who beat you up, Neville?" was the first question out of Ron's mouth.

"It was Malfey and his buddies," Neville answered quietly, not wanting Madame Pomfrey to hear. "Wanker snuck up on me when I was leaving potions. Hit me with a Leg Locker, then had his mates drag me into an empty classroom."

"Report him, Neville!" insisted Hermione. "You have to tell Professor McGonagall."

"No," Neville replied flatly. "I'll take care of this myself."

"You can't just go picking fights with other students, Neville," Hermione said, looking a bit worried now.

Ron cut her off before she could say anything else. "And he can't let Malfey walk all over him."

"Malfoy is just a weakling," Harry finally said. "He knows you are better than him, and he's jealous. We'll see to it that he pays though."

Ron nodded in agreement. "We'll make him pay ten times what he did to you, mate."

"Boys!" huffed Hermione, but secretly she agreed with them. Malfoy did need to pay for what he had done.

Later that afternoon, after the shortest Quidditch match in over two hundred years, Harry was taking his broom to the school broom shed and thinking about the game. He had managed to catch the Snitch in less than a minute thanks to an odd bit of luck. While the Hufflepuff Seeker had streaked into the air when the Snitch had been released, Harry had only lifted up about ten meters. So it was with a bit of surprise when the Snitch dove down towards the ground and under Professor Snape rather than streaking away into the blue sky. Harry had reacted instantly, yelling for Snape to move, which the stunned professor barely had time to do, before diving towards the Snitch and catching it. It all happened so quickly that the rest of the team kept playing for a minute before realizing the game was already over.

The Hufflepuff team had been devastated. Their captain could still be heard sobbing an hour later. Wood on the other hand was so happy that he was crying when they carried him off the pitch. Ron and Hermione were rather relieved when they did not have to act upon Harry's idea to stop anyone from hurting him during the game. Hermione had never been happy about the idea of setting fire to Quirrell, even though Ron had promised to put the fire out just as soon as Harry was safely on the ground. They had spent almost two hours, along with several other Gryffindor students, just flying around the pitch and enjoying the feeling of victory.

As he unlocked the shed, Harry caught a figure moving out of the corner of his eye. The figure was wearing a long hooded cloak, but Harry knew immediately who it was. He had watched the man strutting around the Potions dungeon often enough that it was easy to tell when Snape walked by, even when the man's face was covered. As Harry watched, the cloaked figure walked into the Forbidden forest. Not knowing exactly why, Harry suddenly decided to follow Snape.

Jumping on his broom, Harry quickly followed Snape. He wove his way through the upper branches of the trees following the shadowy figure below him until he finally heard a pair of voices talking below him. Harry, trying to be as quiet as possible, landed on a thick branch high above the two figures and tried to hear what they had to say.

"Students aren't supposed to know about the stone," Snape's voice said coldly from under the hood of his cloak.

The second cloaked figure looked smaller, almost like a woman, and it seemed to be trembling. It was not until he heard the person speaking that Harry realized it was a man, and a man that he knew.

"I d-don't know w-what you're talking ab-bout, S-severus."

"Quirrell," Harry thought to himself with a mental hiss.

"Don't give me that," spat Snape. "I just want to know if you've figured out how to get past the oaf's dog yet?"

"I s-swear, S-severus," pleaded Quirrell. "I h-have n-no idea w-what y-you are t-talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," hissed Snape. "You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell. I know all about your little bit of hocus-pocus."

Now Harry was interested but the wind picked that moment in time to start gusting. The sound of the wind through the trees drowned out anything else the two men said. Unfortunately, but the time the wind died down again, the two men had already turned to go their separate ways. Harry tried to follow Quirrell, but the Defense teacher seemed to vanish after only a few strides, leaving Harry alone in the dark forest. Realizing he had lost his chance, Harry flew back to the broom shed and thought about what he had heard.

He had thought Snape was a good person, but the Potions teacher had seemed different when talking to Quirrell. Sure, it was Quirrell and Harry did not like him either, but Snape had been threatening the stuttering Professor. Harry might not trust Quirrell, but he would never think of threatening the man. Still, Snape had done just that and it surprised Harry that he felt as if he should come to the Defense teacher's… well… defense.

These thought kept repeating in Harry's head as he made his way back to the castle. He was in his own little world as he walked up to Gryffindor tower, even ignoring the party that was taking place in the common room. It was not until he reached his room, and his own bed, that he admitted to himself that for the first time ever, he doubted his instincts. For once he wondered if he had gotten it backwards. Was Quirrell the innocent and Snape the manipulator out to get his hands on the Philosopher's Stone? No one else trusted Snape, so why did he? Harry had no good answer other than his instincts had always told him that Snape was on his side.

As he pulled back the red hangings from around his bed, Harry saw a small roll of parchment on his pillow. The parchment was tied close with a simple gold ribbon, which Harry quickly untied. Opening the scroll, Harry read the short little note.

"Harry,

Trust your instincts.

Trust Snape.

M. K."

Harry smiled as he rolled up the parchment and tied the gold ribbon around it again. "All right, I'll trust him for now. That's one more answer you owe me, Mr. Knight."