Chapter 13: Down to the Dungeons

"I hate defense against the Dark Arts," Harry groused at the breakfast table. "Especially first thing in the morning. I get a bloody headache and then Snape makes it worse with his stupid glaring at me and then I'm rotten at transfiguration! And they've canceled flying lessons today because of the feast! This is a stupid day."

"At least you have the feast to look forward to, Harry," Ron said. "Fred and George said they really put on a spread. I bet they have pumpkin treacle tart."

"Why does everything taste like pumpkin!" Harry half shouted. "It's disgusting! Pumpkin juice, pumpkin pudding, pumpkin pasties, pumpkin pumpkin pumpkin! I hate pumpkin!"

"I'm sure there will be other stuff, Harry," Neville said placatingly. "It will be OK."

"No it won't," Harry growled, shoving away his meal. "I'm not hungry for pumpkin bloody porridge." He stood and stalked away from the breakfast table, leaving his three friends behind. Ron made to go after Harry, but Hermione motioned him back down.

"What's eating him?" Ron asked, looking confused and worried.

"Ron, what day is it?" Hermione said quietly.

"Um, October 31st? Halloween? Come on Hermione, you know that."

"Oh," Neville said. "Ron, did you see what Harry had last night in his bed?"

"He had that photo Snape gave him of his dead mum, yeah?" Ron looked blankly at Neville and Hermione for a moment, then he winced. "Oh. Yeah. Maybe I shouldn't have told him that Halloween was when his parents were killed. He did ask though."

"It was right for you to tell him, Ron," Hermione said. "We'll just have to cheer Harry up. I don't think he really knows much about his birth parents, and he's having a bit of a conflict over it."

"Why? He's got his own mum and dad now, right? And they're bloody brilliant."

"I think he feels guilty and homesick, Ron," Hermione said gently. "I know I do. I can't imagine how much worse it would be if one set of parents were dead and I was trying to learn about them, but at the same time I missed the parents I knew and I felt guilty over both."

Ron looked thoughtful, then stood up. "Yeah, come on Neville. Hermione, you stay here."

"I think he wants to be alone, Ron." Hermione lectured.

"He can be alone with his mates then," Ron said firmly. "We'll go pick a fight with him or something."

"I don't think that's a good idea!" Hermione hissed, trying to come after Neville and Ron, who had grabbed a few pieces of food and were going after Harry.

Neville put a restraining hand on Hermione and smiled. "Trust us, Hermione. This is a blokes thing. OK?"

Hermione muttered something under her breath that sounded a lot like "idiot boys" but stopped and went back to the breakfast table.

Ron and Neville found Harry in the third floor corridor standing in front of a suit of armor with clenched fists, his eyes puffy.

"Oi, Harry, catch!" Ron shouted, and threw an apple at Harry's head.

Harry spun and grabbed the apple just inches from his face. "Bloody hell Ron, are you trying to kill me!"

"Neville said you were going to get steamrolled by Slytherin in your first match in a couple of weeks. Thinks your reflexes stink," Ron said easily, leaning against a pillar and grinning impudently at Harry.

Looking at Ron in astonishment, Neville quickly turned back and nodded when Ron kicked him. "Um, yeah! I still think that the uh, snitch will be harder to catch than an apple."

"Oh really?"

Neville let out a squeak as the apple bounced off his forehead, thrown with perfect accuracy by Harry. Ron quickly threw another apple at Harry, who was too busy laughing at Neville to catch this one, and fell over when it clipped him in the ear. Neville picked up his own apple and chucked it at Ron, and before they knew it the three boys were letting out battle cries as fruit flew through the air making wet sounding splats as it hit bodies or walls.

"Stop this instant!" A low voice snarled, and the three young Gryffindors froze. Professor Quirrell was glaring at them, his turban slightly askew from where an apple had dealt it a glancing blow.

"Oh bugger," Ron muttered, his eyes wide.

"Foolish children!" Quirrel hissed. "You will…"Quirrel shook himself, and his voice returned to its normal nasally stutter. "You w-w-w-will c-c-c-clean this u-u-u-up! And and, serve d-d-detention tonight!"

With a quick straightening of his turban, Quirrel whirled away towards his classroom. Harry's forehead immediately exploded with pain, and he found himself on the ground as stars danced through his vision.

"Harry, Harry are you OK?" Neville's half panic voice asked through the pain.

Groaning, Harry tried to stand as the pain faded. "I think I'm OK," he mumbled.

"What is the meaning of this?" A new voice snarled.

"Bugger everything," Harry groaned.

"Professor Snape, I think Harry's hurt!" Neville cried before Ron could shush him.

In a swirl of dark robes Snape was there, looming over the three crouching boys. "Didn't learn your lesson the first time, boys?" He asked in a soft, dangerous voice. "And wasting food. I think that deserves-"

"It wasn't the apples, sir," Harry interrupted, his forehead still pounding. "I was fine until Quirrel showed up and started acting oddly. Harry rubbed at his scar, wincing slightly.

Snape knelt down, wand out, causing the boys to flinch away. "I'm not going to hurt you, foolish children," Snape snapped. "Come here, McAlister." Gently, Snape tapped Harry's scar with his wand. "Does that hurt?"

"No, sir, it's fading now. It just started hurting when Quirrel was acting all funny and angry at us."

"Yeah, he sounded half normal for once," Ron agreed.

"A point from Gryffindor for disrespecting a professor, Weasley," Snape said absently. He looked deep into Harry's eyes, and Harry met his gaze for a moment before an odd sensation made him wince again and look away.

"But Quirrel already gave us a detention!" Neville protested. "And we'll have to miss the feast."

"Didn't want to go to the feast anyway," Harry grumbled, touching the pocket of his robes were the photo of his mother and Snape was safely tucked in a book. "Just wish I didn't have to spend the evening with garlic turban."

"I do not believe that will do," Snape muttered, looking at the three boys. "No." He shook his head. "You will serve your detentions with me, tonight. I shall discuss the matter with Quirrell."

The three boys blinked, surprised that Snape would intervene on their behalf. "Don't look so happy," Snape sneered. "You shall still miss the feast, and I dare say my detention will be far more strict than whatever Quirrell had cooked up. Clean this mess up and get to your class." With that, Snape strode off in the same direction that Quirrell had taken.

"What is going on today?" Ron wondered aloud. "Seems like everyone is in a mood."

"Meow."

"Oh my sweet, what is this? Food fights in the corridors. Naughty, naughty boys."

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. "Fantastic."

In the end, Flich hadn't believed that Ron, Neville and Harry had already lost points and received a detention from Snape and Quirrell respectively, and they were frog marched to DADA lessons after cleaning the corridor. Snape had already come and gone apparently, because Quirrell eagerly assigned the boys another detention the following night with himself.

"That's it, I'm convinced. Every teacher at this school hates me," Harry grumbled as they made their way to lunch. Snape had been furious in potions, having heard that the boys still had detention with Quirrell from one of the Slytherins. He'd taken eight points from Gryffindor between Harry, Neville, and Ron meaning they'd lost their house nearly ten points in a single morning.

"Well you shouldn't have been having a food fight in the corridor," Hermione sniffed. "I told Ron and Neville to leave you alone."

"Well at least now you really have something to be miserable about," Ron said breezily while sticking his tongue out at Hermione's back.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, well, at least I know who to blame that every teacher can't stand me." He poked Neville and Ron in the backs, and soon a minor scuffle broke out before Hermione broke it up.

She was surprised to see that far from being angry at each other, the three boys were all grinning like idiots. She harrumphed loudly. "Well, I suppose I'll have to smuggle you all something from the feast. I'll do my best to make sure what I get isn't laced with pumpkin, but no promises."

"I like pumpkin," Neville said with a serious expression on his face. "Make sure you only get that, I'll be famished after having to serve detention."

"Oi!" Harry shouted, but then laughed along with Neville. "Whatever you get is fine, Hermione. Thanks."

"Boys," Hermione muttered, shaking her head.

That evening Harry, Ron and Neville trekked down to the dungeons to their detention, taking their sweet time. Harry was starting to feel down on himself again, and Ron and Neville were doing their best to cheer him up.

"You know I bet if you ever grew your hair out you wouldn't look like a half bald otter," Ron told Harry, rubbing at the still short hair.

"It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't smell like a wet otter," Neville said wistfully. "I don't think the muggle soaps he uses really work."

"At least I don't look like a fox with a case of mange whenever I get out of the shower," Harry retorted, dodging out of Ron's reach then giving him a noogie of his own.

"Oi, I'll have you know I'm a Weasley, not a fox!" Ron laughed, tickling Harry's exposed armpit. The two of the fell on each other, tickling and pulling.

"Come on you two, we're going to be really late," Neville said, pulling his friends apart. "Phew! You both smell like a fox!"

Surreptitiously, Ron and Harry both sniffed at themselves. "I don't smell that bad," Harry protested.

"Something really stinks, and it isn't me," Ron said. Both he and Harry looked at Neville. "That was one nasty fart Neville!"

"Nice," Harry said, giving Neville a wink.

Looking perplexed, Neville shook his head. "No, I didn't. But that-" Neville saw the looks of sudden terror on Harry and Ron's faces as they looked down the corridor behind him. "Right, shall we run then?"

"Let's," Harry agreed, and the three boys began pelting down the corridor.

"Urrrrgggghhh!" a deep, angry sounding roar echoed behind the boys.

"Troll!" Ron began shrieking at the top of his lungs. "There's a troll!"

"My bloody gun's in my trunk!" Harry wailed, glancing behind them to see the troll lumbering behind them at an alarming rate.

"Quick, in here!" Neville pointed his wand at the dore. "Alohomora!" The door clicked open, and the three students stumbled in, slamming the door and relocking it behind them.

"Bloody hell," Ron swore. "How did a troll get in here?"

The door suddenly shuddered, dust cascading off it as the timbers creaked and groaned.

Harry looked around the darkened classroom desperately. Dust covered everything, and what little furniture there was had moldy cloth coverings on it. "There's nowhere to hide or run! We're trapped."

"I don't think the troll can get through the door even if it breaks it down," Neville said, taking rapid steps backwards. Ron and Harry quickly followed him, taking cover behind a dusty table. There was a loud bellow and the door buckled inward again. The three boys cowered behind the bed, screaming in terror as the door was blasted off of its hinges and shards of wood peppered their hiding place. The stink of the troll was overpowering now, and a long gray arm felt into the classroom as the troll tried to squeeze its way in.

"Scourgify!" Neville shouted, pointing his wand at the troll's arm.

"What the bloody hell good is that going to do?" Ron demanded. The stink had lessened slightly, and the perplexed troll had withdrawn its arm momentarily as it examined its newly cleaned skin.

"It was all I could think of," Neville admitted. Ron and Harry both shrugged and made noises that suggested that Neville's efforts were better than nothing at least.

Suddenly, the troll let out a deafening bellow, followed by a high pitched shriek and the crash of breaking dinner plates.

"Hermione!" Harry cried, and darted towards the door. Ron and Neville were on his heels, but they were too late.

The troll and bounded down the corridor with surprising swiftness, grabbing Hermione by the leg and lifting her up. It was dangling her towards it's open mouth to take a bite out of the flailing girl.

"Oi, git!" Ron yelled, pointing his wand. "Scourgify!"

The trolls rancid teeth suddenly gleamed white as snot and drool vanished along with years of cavities.

"Scourgify!" Harry and Neville both cried, causing the trolls loin cloth to flap as sweat and dust vanished, and the trolls toe nails to chip and shatter as if an enormous nail clipper had gone at them.

In shock, the troll dropped Hermione to the floor, where she managed to flip and land on her rump instead of her head and scoot away from the confused brute.

"Um, now what?" Harry asked as the troll's expression went from confused to angry as it turned towards the three young wizards. With a bellow, it charged again, and the three boys froze in terror.

"Sectumsempra!"

The troll's head was cleaved clean in twain, showering the hall with brains and gore. Blinking, the four Gryffindor's looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. Into the midst of the disaster strode Snape, his cloak flapping ominously behind him. "Well, well, well. It appears that you did indeed have a reasonable excuse for being late for your detentions boys, though what reason Miss Granger has for being down in the dungeons I simply cannot imagine."

"I...I...I…" Hermione stammered, before laying her head in her hands and beginning to weep.

Ron was at her side in a moment, his face concerned. "You alright? For a moment there, I thought you were dead."

That only increased the volume of Hermione's wailing, and Ron looked at his friends helplessly. They could only shrug, and look to Snape, who was inspecting the troll.

"Do not ask me for advice on the comforting of young Gryffindor females," Snape said, his voice dripping with acid. "I seem to have a rather acerbic effect upon them."

"You have a what?" the three boys asked in unison, confused at the new word.

"Means 'bitter or sour,'" Hermione said, hiccuping and rubbing her eyes.

"Indeed. Your ability to recall even the most inane of facts in the most dire of circumstances continues to amaze me, Granger. Two points to Gryffindor each for keeping your heads during your encounter, figuratively and literally it would seem."

The four students gaped at Snape.

"You're giving us points?" Ron stammered.

Neville gulped. "We're not in trouble?"

"Can you teach us that spell?" Harry asked, looking at the potions master with a new sense of awe.

"What is the troll doing here, and how did it get in?" Hermione said, using Ron to pull herself to her feet.

"Your questions will have to wait. Clearly it is not safe here. Come with me, now," Snape ordered, and the four students quickly fell into line behind Snape, running to keep up with his long legged strides down the corridor.

Halfway to the Great Hall they ran into the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall, who had their wands out and grim expressions on their faces.

"Severus, there is a-" McGonagle began, then stopped with Snape spread his arms wide, displaying the layer of gore on the front of his robes. "Ah. I see that you have found it." McGonagle studied the four equally coated students. "Are you all quite well? Is it dead?"

The four students began talking over one another in a rush, though they managed to communicate stumbling upon the troll, Neville hitting on the idea of using cleaning charms to distract and confuse the troll, and Snape's timely intervention.

"And yet despite all their successes, they seem to have forgotten the true use of cleaning charms," Snape sneered, his dark eyes glittering.

Dumbledore and McGonagall started, realizing that the man was actually making a joke, even if it was one in rather poor taste.

The four students blushed and stammered apologies, then began cleaning Snape's robes with the charm.

"And he even gave us eight points to Gryffindor," Ron whispered to McGonagle. "You better check to make sure he's not actually an imposter or something."

"Off of me!" Snape snapped as most of gore was vanished. "I have business to attend to. I leave your miscreants in your own hands, Minerva. Mcalister, Weasley, Neville, I consider your detentions served. Even the one you were assigned tomorrow. Hopefully next time, you will not require the presence of a monster to learn the better of wreaking havoc in my dungeons!" With that, the potions master strode off in a swirl of robes, the faint odor of trolls brains wafting behind him.

Dumbledore stood for a moment, then looked down at Neville, his eyes twinkling. "Quit the young hero, eh Minerva? An extra ten points to Gryffindor for a most excellent and innovative use of the cleaning charm. I shall have to think of the ramifications! Why, we might even consider incorporating the spell into our Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. 'How to keep a trolls and yours nose clean.' Most excellent! Lemon drop, anyone?"

The four students dutifully accepted the lemon drops, grateful for something to get the smell and taste of the troll gore off of them. They waved goodbye to Dumbledore and followed their head off house off to their dormitories.

"He really is mad," Neville said quietly as they walked away.

"A great wizard," Ron agreed.

"But completely mad," Harry finished, sucking on his lemon drop thoughtfully. "I wonder what my parents will have to say about this?"

"You sure that's wise, Harry?" Hermione asked nervously. "What if they were to pull us out of school for being in danger?"

Harry snorted. "Please. Neville beat a troll with a cleaning charm. That would be like Mr. Clean wiping down a Dalek and making it vanish."

"What's a Dalek?" Ron asked.

Neville frowned. "Who's Mr Clean?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged significant looks. "They know so little," Harry said with a sigh.

"Growing up magical must be such a burden," Hermione tittered.

Ahead of them, Professor McGonagall tried to keep her eyes open for danger, though she was longing for the calming draught and headache potions she kept in her chambers. Raising young Gryffindors. If they weren't the death of her, whatever foolish escapade she landed herself in trying to keep them safe would be!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\\/\/\/

Snape slammed Quirinius up against the wall, glaring at the stammering DADA professor. "Drop the act, Quirrell. Let the troll in did you? Nasty bite you've got on your leg there. I see you've met 'Fluffy.' Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself. If that great oaf can handle that dog, you should have no problems with the beast."

"I-I-I d-d-d-don't-"

"Enough!" Snape snarled, pressing his wand point up against the other man's throat. "If I catch you here again, I shall not leave the consequences to that fool of a headmaster! I shall deal with you myself, in my own way." He leaned into Quirrell, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I don't know for certain who you are working for, but I have served master's far darker than you can dream of for longer than you have been off of your bitch of a mother's teat!" Snape stalked away, leaving the whimpering wreck of a man behind him. He stomped off to the headmaster's office, where he snarled "lemon drop!" at the gargoyle, who wisely leapt out of Snape's way. Inside, he paced back and forth, to the consternation of Fawkes the phoenix, until the headmaster arrived.

"Quirrell has a direct link to the Dark Lord," Snape snarled as soon as Dumbledore was through the door. "Look at this!" he showed his exposed sleeve to Dumbledore, upon which the Dark Mark was faintly glowing. "It has not reacted so in years! And, somehow, Potter's scar is connected. When I touched it with my wand, my arm burned, Albus. Burned! As if I had used my wand against the Dark Lord himself!"

Slowly, the headmaster blinked. "Are you quite certain of this, Severus?"

"I caught Quirrell limping out of the third floor corridor. I surprised him enough that he got bitten by the flea bitten cur of Hagrid's! When I touched him tonight, I felt my Mark react. And I've looked into McAlister's mind, headmaster. I have seen how he reacts to Quirrell's presence! The scar of his burns like it was a Dark Mark, like it was somehow imbued with the Dark Lord's essence."

"I have told you not to practice legitimacy upon the students unless they are in immediate danger, Severus," Dumbledore said, pacing over to his desk. "It is a gross violation of their privacy. Why are you peering into young Harry's mind?"

"Because he was IN direct danger!" Snape spat, lying through his teeth. "Or did you not notice that troll the pawn of the Dark Lord let into the corridors tonight!" Snape paused, glaring at the headmaster. "I believe we should capture him and interrogate him. Give me a month, and I will have freshly brewed Veritaserum. We can interrogate him to our heart's content then!"

"That would blow your cover, Severus," Dumbledore said gently.

Snape growled. "Damn my cover! If we can prevent the Dark Lord from gaining power now, then there will be no need to spy on him!"

"Agreed. Which is why the traps are not what they seem," Dumbledore said, taking one of his damned sweets out of the drawer. "I have sent for the Mirror of Erised."

"And what does that fool's bane have to do with anything? The dark lord would never be tricked as to lose himself to that particular beguilement, though Quirinius might."

"I plan to modify it. Gaze into the Mirror for too long, and it will trap one's soul eternally. Such a device could imprison Voldemort, and hold him captive for many years. Long enough for Longbottom or McAlister to grow into a hero capable of defeating him."

"Then you also suspect possession," Snape snarled. "Are you insane? To have the Dark Lord here, in Hogwarts, with direct access to the students? He was always charismatic, that one. He could bend so many to his will right under our noses!"

"Perhaps, if his chosen vessel were not so damaged he could," Dumbledore said mildly. "It is a risk we must run. If we confront Quirinius, we have no means of easily trapping the spirit inside of him, or, if it is only a link, of tracing it back. We must use this situation to our advantage. I regret deeply that the students are at some risk, but I have taken steps to manage it. Voldemort is surely too weak to manage any great mischief. We must do the best we can." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a notebook, then began writing.

"What are you doing now?" Snape demanded, trying to hold back a sigh of exasperation. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place. On one side the foolish old man, on the other the insane bastard.

"I am making a note to have Quirinius include the scouring charm in his lessons on defeating certain dark beasts," Dumbledore said, looking up with a twinkle in his eyes. "Young Longbottom was most creative in his foiling of that troll, don't you agree?"

"He was lucky, and nothing more," Snape hiss. He leaned onto the desk, attempting to loom over Dumbledore. "McAlister and his little friends could have all died. Then what would have happened to your nascent chosen ones?"

Dumbledore's eyes just twinkled, and he seemed to grow taller, rather ruining Snape's attempt to loom. "In my experience, there is no such thing as luck, young Severus. Fate, it would seem, has conspired to preserve those children. They will be Light's champions, if only we have a chance to train them."

He really is as batty as that wretched fool of a lying jedi, Snape thought. He blinked. He hadn't thought of those films in...McAlister! The muggles...no, no Snape was not trapped. Not yet.

"Fine. I'll be your little antagonist to them. Though that will be difficult, seeing as I just saved their lives." Snape whirled around and stalked back to the dungeons, his mind mulling over his prospects. He would not serve the Dark Lord again. That way was death and madness, and everything Lily's memory had ever opposed. To serve Dumbledore would be to betray her son to death as he had his lost Lenore. But there was another way. Only, how to take it? There was some way to play this all to Snape's advantage, someway to come out of his not just as a spy, but as a hero covered in glory.