Harry's eyes opened. It was dark, that heavy dark of the deepest levels of night, long before dawn is more than a distant dream. It wasn't light, though, that had brought him out of his slumber. Two figures were approaching down the ward, talking to each other.

"Are you sure you set the silencing spell right?" one said. "All we need is for Madam Pomfrey to hear us."

"I'm sure," the other replied. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Harry had the instinctive urge to reach for his wand, but he found that he was unable to move. Any attempt to undo the rolls of bedclothes would tell them he was awake and heard them.

"Knickers in a twist, you say," the first was replying, the male voice growing louder as they approached Harry's bed.

"Hush," the other male voice replied, asking, "Which are they? I can't see anything."

Harry, at last recognised them, shaking his head as much as he was able. Figures. He couldn't even get a night sleep in peace. Harry felt torn between letting them stumble around in the dark trying to find him (an amusing prospect) an letting them know where he was.

Practicality won out, Harry was very tired, after all. "If either of you two idiots would like to sound less like a staggering horde of trolls," he said, laughing, "you could make some light."

"Why didn't you think of that?" One of them asked.

"Me?" The other replied, "You're the idea guy."

"Fine," the first said, making a loud effort of pulling something out of his pocket, saying, "Lumos."

The hospital wing lit up, giving Harry a better view of things. The darkness had receded but not gone; long shadows fell along the stone floor and the walls. In the middle of the light, two red headed boys stood looking quickly around the room. They located Harry and Hermione's beds immediately and made for them in a more direct way.

"Harry?" Hermione muttered from behind him.

He turned his head to see Hermione covering her eyes and groaning. "The twins have come to visit," he said.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice irritated.

"A fine way to welcome visitors," Fred said, coming to sit down on Hermione's bed.

"And here we risked our necks to slip past Madam Pomfrey for you two," George said. Harry couldn't see his head from this angle, but was sure that he was shaking his head. George took a seat beside Harry.

A heavy silence fell, enveloping the four of them. For a moment, Harry wondered if the twins had seen a professor and were waiting for the yelling to begin. But, forcing his shoulders to turn, Harry could see all three of them much better than before. They, the twins, were without words. Both were looking between Harry and Hermione, examining their faces and still bound up injuries (Madam Pomfrey did go a bit overboard considering her spells healed most everything immediately). Harry decided to break the silence.

"Thanks for coming," he said to them.

He saw Hermione's face was full of concern, and he knew what she was thinking. Silent twins were as un-twin-like as they could be. The silence held again for another moment before Hermione broke in.

"We're both doing much better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey," she said, gently.

Fred and George both seemed to sag into themselves at the same time.

"We should have been there," George muttered, his voice cracking a little.

Harry stared at him in amazement. Were the insufferable twins trying not to cry? He jumped in trying to help.

"Then," Harry said, "you'd be in those beds across, or worse."

"We can't know what would have happened," Hermione said. "It happened the way it happened."

"We got out all right," Harry said. "And I don't think they got the stone."

"That's the best way it could have gone," Hermione said, "aside from the ceiling falling on us."

"How did that happen?" Fred asked, looking at Hermione.

"I…er…sort of caused that," Harry said, looking sheepish.

"Of course it was," George exclaimed.

"We knew he couldn't be trusted around our Hermione," Fred said, setting himself between Harry and Hermione in a defensive way, his arms out as though he was going to tackle the prone Harry.

"Harry saved my life," Hermione said, looking at Harry between Fred's outstretched arms. "I wouldn't be here without him."

"What exactly happened?" Fred asked, looking behind him to Hermione before looking back to Harry. His arms lowered to his sides.

"I don't know the beginning of it," Harry admitted, looking to Hermione.

"I-" she said, looking ill at ease. "He called me aside to talk about some homework. When no one was around, Quirrell stunned me and tied me up. He dragged me to the third floor room, and waited for Harry. I-"

"He sent me a message through a bird," Harry said, "telling me to come to help her and not to tell anyone on the way. I didn't know who it was until I attacked him in the final room of the protection. He kept his hood up and…"

"And you went on your own?" Fred asked, looking at Harry as though he was crazy.

"He said he would know if I talked to someone," Harry argued. "I didn't want to take the risk."

"So, you just did what the enemy wanted?" George asked.

"He was threatening to kill her," Harry said, loudly. "Either of you would have done the same."

"Yeah," Fred said, "that's true, but-"

"We're crazy Gryffindors," George said.

"We expected something more thought out from a Ravenclaw," Fred said, sounding disappointed.

"All I could do was drop some of my essays in the hall," Harry said, "hoping someone would find them. If he was keeping an eye on what I was doing, it would have looked like an accident."

"Risky, still," George said. "Go on."

Harry told them the story of the descent through the different challenges, and how he had been looking for any sign of weakness, until…

"And I summoned the potion, so she couldn't drink any," he said. "I had hoped Hermione might manage to escape or someone find her before we got back."

"I did break out of the spell," Hermione said. "Suddenly, the grip on me loosened after you two went through the fire, and I wrenched myself free. I started hobbling to the table to grab a potion when the ceiling caved in."

"Why did the ceiling collapse, Harry?" Fred asked, trying to put all the pieces together.

George just knitted his eyebrows.

"I tried to attack him," Harry said, "when he came through the fire, but he blocked everything and disarmed me. They… tried to make me get the stone for them…"

"They?" Fred asked, his eyebrows raising.

"I thought Quirrell was the only one there," George said.

"We were interested if you found out who the other voice was," Fred said.

"Voldemort," Harry said. The twins both flinched and Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"But how?" Fred asked.

"Wasn't he…?" George asked, looking up at Harry's forehead.

"He's living on the back of Quirrell's head," Harry said.

The three of them looked horrified.

"He was what?" Hermione asked. "I thought he would be, I don't know, contained in something magical…?"

"Evidently," Harry said, "he was using unicorn blood to help sustain him in Quirrell's body. He said something like that."

"What did he…?" Hermione began to ask, shuddering.

"He tried to make me get the stone for him," Harry said, "but I attacked him while Quirrell's back was turned, and went for his wand. A spell went off that brought the ceiling down. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here."

Everyone grew quiet for a moment, thinking about what had happened.

"Next time," Fred said, after a time, "tell us."

"We'll come," George said, "and we'll kick their arses."

"I don't care if it is You-Know-Who or a manticore," Fred said, fierce.

Harry had never seen the twins so serious before. He felt bad, but he didn't know what would have happened if he had called them. None of them did, so Harry was just thankful he and Hermione had survived and kept Voldemort from getting his hands on the stone. They had been lucky, sure, but they had survived.

"Fine," Harry said. "But, honestly, I hope there isn't a next time."

"Harry," Fred said, "don't be like that."

"Adventures are always going to happen," George said.

"It's better to be prepared!" Fred continued.

"S-sure," Harry said, but he could see the cruel, red eyes of Voldemort. They hadn't seen that. They hadn't had to charge and attack someone glaring at him with so much hatred. As positive as the result was, Harry was in no mood to try again any time soon.

"But how are you, Hermione?" Fred asked.

"You've been awfully quiet," George said.

"Haven't given an order to anyone in five minutes," Fred said, chuckling.

"I'm f-fine," she said, holding the bedclothes tight around her. "We're s-safe."

"You know the thing about Gryffindor bravery?" Fred asked.

Hermione looked confused. "What?"

"It doesn't mean you can't be afraid," George finished.

"It-it's over," she said, repeating, lowering her eyes, "We're safe."

"Yeah," Fred said, "it is. And if they come again, we'll be there."

"Sun or storm," George said, solemn.

"Hail or dragon dung showers," Fred added, his lip twitching.

"Th-thanks," she said, pulling the bedclothes up to her chin.

"And you, Harry?" Fred asked.

"It was scary," he answered, honest. "I can still see his eyes…"

He paused, but added, "But Hermione is right. It is over. Quirrell won't show his face about Hogwarts after that. The professors would descend on him like a storm."

"Dumbledore was furious," Hermione whispered. "He was pretty scary."

"And the Wizarding world will be on the lookout for Quirrell, now," George said. "He won't get far."

Harry said, "But he has Voldemort with him." He ignored the shudders of the others. "That makes him much more dangerous."

"He'll need to find somewhere with unicorn nearby," Fred said, "so he may be easier to track down."

"Maybe," Harry admitted.

"In any case," George said, "he won't come out in the open. He obviously didn't want people to find him out."

"Yeah," Harry said. "We'll be safe, for now, at least."

Hermione whimpered. Everyone turned to her, and Fred put a hand on her head. "We'll be ready the next time he shows his ugly head - Harry, I assume it was ugly, right?"

"Very," Harry said, almost laughing.

"We'll be ready when he shows his grotesque, ill-formed-" Fred began again.

"Monkey-butt face," George finished.

"It was more like a twisted snake face," Harry said.

"Like something those Muggle blokes do to their celebrities," Fred said, "you know, the ones that are like Healers but with knives and such?"

"Cosmetic surgeons?" Hermione offered after a bit.

"Yes, them!" Fred said.

"How do you know about them?" Hermione asked, her curiosity drawing her out of the bedclothes a bit.

"One of our classmates compared that to the Polyjuice Potion Snape was talking about in class," George said.

"He only lost his House twenty points and gained a detention," Fred added.

"Snape doesn't like his potions being compared to Muggle things," George said, shrugging.

"Or much of anything," Fred added, nodding.

"He has some positive points," Harry said. Everyone stared at him. "I mean…he is good at what he does."

Fred said, pretending to hold up a newspaper, "Ah, yes, they're looking for a new professor at Hogwarts, preferably one who hates students and makes them feel stupid."

"Should have a predilection for wrath and punishments," George said, adjusting invisible glasses while he read the invisible paper over his twin's shoulder.

Even Hermione laughed at this one. Harry chuckled. He knew Snape better than the others, but was never particularly close to him. He did have a way with people, that was certainly true…

A door opened across the ward, and in strode Madam Pomfrey, her face livid.

"OUT! NOW!" she cried upon seeing the twins sitting by their bedsides.

"S-sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Fred said, running full speed past her.

"Your pardon," George added, flying behind his brother.

"Goodnight, you two," they called as one as they flew through the door.

"Those two," Madam Pomfrey said, sighing, her own wand lit to supplement the darkness left by the pair. "Now, you two, sleep. For the last time, you need rest."

Harry turned back over onto his back and could see Hermione doing the same. As the light from Madam Pomfrey's wand left the room, Harry's eyes met Hermione's, and he could see hers were full of fear.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered softly. "I'll be right here."

"Thanks, Harry," she whispered back. After a pause she whispered again, "I'm not sure I should be in Gryffindor."

"Why not?" he asked, as quietly as he could.

"I was going for the potion to escape," Hermione said, "and I didn't drink the one the figure gave me. I was just protecting myself."

"You gave me the chance to attack him," Harry said. "I couldn't have stopped him if you were still in his power."

She was silent, and the quiet compounded.

"I think you were very brave," Harry said. "After all you had been through, you still broke from the spell and were going to do something. You didn't freeze or try to hide. You were going to get help."

"Help wouldn't have been in time," she said. "I was leaving you to your fate."

"I chose to go in there with him," Harry replied, his voice almost too loud. He softened it, saying, "I wanted to give you a chance to get out. Our best chance was to stall him and keep him away from the stone until the professors found us. You were going to bring them to do just that."

"I…suppose," she said, sounding sad.

"I know it," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat picked you for Gryffindor for a reason."

"And you?" she whispered. "Why are you in Ravenclaw if you are…so brave?"

"I suppose," Harry said, "we're not confined to the traits of the House. You can be whatever you want to be."

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "Thanks, Harry. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Harry woke in the late morning to find Hermione had gone. Madam Pomfrey was bustling around, clearing up her bedside and preparing the other beds for any other visitors. He found that he could move more freely than before, and realised she had removed his bandaging. Sitting up, he looked over at the Healer. The sun's light blazed through the windows, their shades now drawn wide, inviting in the morning rays.

"Good morning," he said. "Where's Hermione?"

"Morning," Madam Pomfrey said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Harry replied. "I don't feel sore anywhere."

"Good," she said, coming around to look him over. She ran her finger in front of his eyes, watching them follow. "Good," she said again. Harry waited patiently as she performed a few more tests, some with her wand, before saying, "You have healed well."

"Thank you," Harry said. "Is Hermione better, too?"

"Yes, she woke before," Madam Pomfrey said. "I sent her down to breakfast."

"Great," he said, "can I go, too?"

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey said, "but, first, the Headmaster said he would like a word."

"Of course," Harry said. He had expected this. Dumbledore would want to know more about what had happened.

"He said to meet him in his office," she continued. "Do eat a hearty meal, afterwards. You need your strength."

Patting his shoulder, she saw him to the door, and said, "Do take care, Harry."

"I will," he said, heading out into the castle.

He saw a scattering of people in the hallways as he walked, and was surprised to see people whispering behind their hands when they saw him. Something must have leaked about what had happened. After all, the twins had known he was in the hospital wing, he and Hermione. They would have noticed the pair of them weren't around the castle, but others must have heard too. He wondered what everyone knew, or what they had been told. Would anyone be surprised that Quirrell had disappeared when they went to classes the next day?

Entering Dumbledore's moving stairwell without realising how he had got there, Harry approached the great door and knocked. He still felt a bit tired, but he needed to get through another retelling. How many more would he have to tell before he could get back to his pile of homework? Harry realised, too, that he would have to rewrite the essay he had dropped. Where was his bag, anyway? Hadn't he left it in the third floor corridor room?

"Enter," Dumbledore said after a moment.

Harry entered, seeing a smiling Headmaster.

"Harry, welcome," the old man said, waving him to a seat. "It is good to see you up and about again."

"Madam Pomfrey always does good work," Harry said.

"So true," Dumbledore replied, "this school owes her such a debt for her care."

"Hermione is out, too," Harry said, sitting.

"Yes," the Headmaster said, "I happened to see her on my way to visit Poppy this morning."

"Ah, I missed her," Harry said. "She had gone before I awoke."

"As had I," the old man chuckled, "but we won't keep you long. I know you will want to see how she is for yourself."

"Thank you," Harry said.

"I know most of what happened yesterday," Dumbledore said. "So, I can spare you most of the retelling. You are sure to be tired of it before long."

"H-how?" Harry asked.

"Do you remember the bright flash when the trapdoor opened?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes?" Harry said. "I thought that was rather odd, but it didn't appear to be an attack."

"That odd flash," Dumbledore said, "was inspired by your vision spell from the previous time."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed. "Did you see everything as it was happening?"

"Fortunately, no," Dumbledore said. "As you and your friends found, that was rather distracting."

"Then, what-?" Harry asked.

"Ah," the Headmaster replied, "I combined your idea with one of my own. The spell captures your memory of all the events after the flash until the spell wears off or the person who received the cast loses consciousness and stores it, here." Dumbledore held up a vial he wore around his neck. In it, Harry could see a memory floating around, its bright shimmer the same as the one he had seen Hermione provide Dumbledore months before.

"Brilliant, professor!" Harry exclaimed.

"I'm afraid, I did not anticipate copying your memory, Harry," Dumbledore said. "For that, I apologise. I assumed I would capture the memory of someone trying to break in."

"That's alright, professor," Harry said. "As long as it helps."

"It will, indeed," Dumbledore said. "I can provide this to the Ministry, to demonstrate Voldemort's attempts to return. It can help escalate the hunt for our ex-DADA professor."

"Good," Harry said, feeling bile at the thought of Quirrell.

"The spell did alert me that someone had entered the trapdoor," Dumbledore said. "Unfortunately, I was at the Ministry, at the time, so I arrived after all had come crashing down, so to say."

"It was pretty horrible," Harry said.

"Yes, Harry, and I am sorry you and Ms. Granger were put through any of this," the Headmaster lamented, sounding weary.

"You really think he did not get the stone, then?" Harry asked.

"Your memory provided the evidence," Dumbledore said. "Before you blacked out, you heard the mirror shatter."

"Ah," Harry said. "I do remember that."

"But Harry," Dumbledore said, "please tell me, then, how all of this began. I have heard from Hermione, but I would value your memories, as well."

Harry repeated what he had told the others, up to opening the trap door, and Dumbledore listened carefully, nodding.

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Professor," Harry asked, "what would have happened if he had gotten the stone?"

"I cannot say, precisely," Dumbledore replied, "but he had some thought to use the Elixir of Life to regenerate a body."

"Is that possible?" Harry asked.

"It may be," Dumbledore said. "Dark magics can warp many magical objects, and I have not studied them so much as to be sure."

"Why did I burn him?" Harry asked, thinking back to touching Quirrell's hand. "When I touched him, it hurt him."

"I think," Dumbledore said, "and it is just a guess on my part, that some of the protection your mother left you when she died for you is still active. Voldemort, and those he controls in so direct a way, cannot touch you without harm."

"I see," Harry said.

"Darkness always fails against light," Dumbledore added. "In this instance, more literally than most."

"And, professor," Harry asked, "Voldemort said my mother could have lived, but she died to protect me. Why was Voldemort after me?"

"Ah," the Headmaster said, "that I cannot answer today. Please have patience, Harry. I will answer you at the proper time."

"Is it that you don't know or don't want to answer?" Harry asked.

"I-" Dumbledore said, hesitating. "I think it best to discuss this when you are older. There may come a time when you will need to know, but I do not think it is just yet. Forgive the old their eccentricities, if you would."

Harry pondered this answer, thinking quietly. Obviously, this was important, and the Headmaster wanted to keep it hidden, but why?

"Breakfast is almost done in the Great Hall, Harry," Dumbledore said, after a moment. "Madam Pomfrey would not be pleased if I kept you from eating."

"Of course, professor," Harry said, looking up into the tired face of the Headmaster. He looked as though he had not slept at all last night. Harry couldn't imagine the thoughts that burdened the great man.

"Thank you for speaking with me, Harry," Dumbledore said to him. "You are always welcome, if you have any other questions."

"Thanks, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said.

He departed, heading down for the Great Hall. His stomach rumbled as he headed down. He really was hungry. A full Hogwarts breakfast sounded amazing. He could worry about the secret of the Headmaster later. For now, he needed food.