AN: I didn't want to post this chapter, so you are all aware. I feel I've made Harry act too much like BBC!Sherlock. I was going to cut this entire chapter completely as a result but instead I went back and interrupted the main Sherlockian monologue so it's in two parts and that made me like it enough to be willing to post it.

The following chapters are less Sherlock-inspired, promise. They are a touch more Blind Author-inspired but not overly so, I don't think. Just wait until we hit Year Two. That's when things are going to get interesting.

(As always, reviews are appreciated and many thanks to the reviewers of previous chapters etc. etc.)

Snape

They chase after Quirrell to be sure he doesn't catch the stone. Braith is a flurry of black feathers and worried scolding after as he binds his bitten leg and winces when he walks.

"Shouldn't have done it," she murmurs fretfully. They've paused in the corridor and Severus is carefully running his hands down the leg – feeling for heat or swelling – to try to massage the lingering pain away. "Put the obstacles there for a reason; there wasn't one to even bother."

"Quirrell is an admirable professor," he says to her, "but he is not right after Albania. I don't trust him."

"Not the point," her beak clicks noisily. "We're supposed to be watching Lily's son."

"We do," he says in exasperation. "He is perfectly fine."

They'd worried when Quirrell let the troll loose in the dungeons. He'd almost bitten Albus' head off later for suggesting he take his Slytherins to the dorms. The dorms in the dungeons.

Luckily, his prefects weren't stupid and so the students were led to the library instead and encourage to complete whatever homework they could or to work on their dæmons Settled forms. He and Braith had gone after Quirrell and made sure that the Troll was herded into the way where all Professors would be forced to deal with it.

Ms. Granger had almost been hurt though, and it stung to think about. Apparently the girl had missed the All Hallow's Eve feast because the youngest Weasley boy had taunted her for her studious nature. The other boys had felt bad about it later – after Longbottom had mentioned it being unfair of them after the girl had helped them more than once – and so Weasley was convinced to go and apologize.

Severus sighs and straightens the leg out again. It hurts but there's nothing for it; he can't take another pain potion for yet another three hours so he'll just have to deal with the pain. Braith croons worriedly.

"Paracetamol, sir?" Harry Potter is standing quite abruptly beside him with a proffered bottle. He's smiling genially and Tahmryis is an albino coral snake wound about his throat.

"Excuse me?" Braith asks in confusion.

"Paracetamol," Lily's son repeats patiently. "Muggle pain-medicine. It works well and won't counter-act most potions. We use it for headaches and growing pains. We follow the directions to the letter too, so you needn't worry about us overdosing, Sir."

He wonders where the boy came from. There certainly hadn't been any footsteps in the corridor and Braith was just as surprised to see the boy. Tahmryis pokes his forked tongue out – tasting the air – and whispers to his boy. Harry smiles a little and shakes the bottle pointedly.

"No, thank you," Severus says. He's bourn worse pain before.

The boy's shoulder lifts a touch. It's not quite a shrug but it conveys his blasé faire attitude toward Severus' refusal. "Checking the guardians?" he asks absently when his dæmon pokes his snout against his cheek. "Only, I can't imagine where else you encountered a Cerberus."

"Been to the third floor then?" Braith demands shrewdly. Severus jostles her and scowls when she snaps. "Oh, of course not." She subsides apologetically after she observes Harry for a moment longer.

Harry dips his head. "I've heard things," he agrees – with her incorrect assumption and her knowing that he's aware of the thing on the third floor. "The, ah -" he searches for a term.

"Flamel's project," Tahmryis says to a mouse as it scurries down the hall.

"Yes," Harry grins mischievously at his dæmon's head. "Flamel's project. It wasn't hard to figure out," he adds to Severus politely. "Vault at Gringott's broken into – clearly holding something of value then, to risk the goblins – and Headmaster Dumbledore announces the third floor corridor is off-limits. Upper years and prefects aren't told why and it hasn't happened before."

"Minerva McGonagall looked annoyed," Tahmryis says slowly. He's deliberately stressing his the 's' noises into hisses and Braith shifts on Severus' shoulder in distaste. "Julius was polite to Malchior."

Harry picks up where his dæmon finished. "Something she disapproves of but still trusts the Headmaster with. So, the vault held something of personal value to the Headmaster as well as being valuable in general; the Headmaster is known for, among other numerous accomplishments, his work with Nicolas Flamel who, as we know, created the philosopher's stone."

"Obvious," Tahmryis says with a pointed, bored, look to Severus and Braith.

All Severus can think is that it's the most he's heard Lily's son speak in one sitting all school year.

"Severus," Braith says. She folds herself against his head and croons softly into his ear. It's an odd noise – mostly a low vocalized hum since a raven can't actually croon – that's scratchy and soothing all at once.

"Sorry," he murmurs quietly to her. She's tilting her head in acceptance and they feel naked under the faint smile on the face of Lily's son. He's watching them as though they're just confirming facts he already knew – truths and lies and everything in between are apparent in that slow-blinking emerald gaze and the lidless crimson eyes of his dæmon. "Your essay," he says instead, focussing on the boy and forcing him to pay attention to Severus' words rather than his expression.

"Sir?" Harry queries with a tiny furrow between his brows.

"I don't think it was necessary to include the snide remarks regarding the man's initial failures."

Tahmryis snorts at them. It's not a proper snort, of course, because snakes can't snort, but the noise he makes is close enough that one can't really tell the difference. Harry peers at Severus blankly as though he hasn't a clue what Severus is referencing.

"Oh!" he says eventually. "Well it is obvious, given the knowledge available at the time; he was just stubborn and refused to read the published work of the French equivalent because he was German and they weren't well on then. And they did end up being forced to corroborate, Sir, so really…"

"Unnecessary background, Mr. Potter," he repeats calmly.

The boy's face scrunches up then in a rare show of childishness. His dæmon hisses distaste and coils in agitation like some absurd scarf. "Yes, Sir," he says cordially after a brief flicker where he and his dæmon compose themselves so it's like it had never happened.

"Good lad," he says and watches the sharp glint in the boy's wide eyes. He's shamming then and Severus can't tell for the life of him whether the sham is in the glint or the childish irritation. "You've been keeping your appointments with Mr. Flint, I assume."

"Androktasia is named after the spirits of manslaughter, did you know?" Harry asks in turn. "Their mother – of the androktasiai, I mean – is Eris goddess of discord." The boy reaches up and pats his dæmon's head softly and peers into the distance in thought.

"I am aware of the mythology," he says calmly. "Don't think too deeply on it; the Flint dæmons have always taken rather bloodthirsty names."

"Oh?" Harry lets the unasked question hang in the air until Braith shuffles and can't hold back her explanation even though she wants to set a good example for Tahmryis (damn it!) on how a dæmon should behave.

"Mr. and Mrs. Flint's dæmons are named for Menoetius and Achlys," she says. "The titan of violent anger and spirit of the death-mist, respectively. They thought…well, who knows what they thought, giving Androktasia that name. Your mother's dæmon had far more sense," she adds to Severus as an aside, "I like Braith."

"It's a nice name," Harry agrees cheerfully. His smile is wide and easy but he's looking at Braith like she's answered a truly tremendous question and that more than anything reminds Severus of why they watch over Lily's son. "Best be off to amend my essay then," he dips his head politely and then he's off down the hall with just the slightest bounce to his step.

Braith watches them go anxiously. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Merlin, I hope not."

end.