Albus set down the message and stood, preparing to apparate. Emergency Wizengamot meeting? He wondered what Fudge was up to this time. Typically, the man only called emergency meetings in hopes of discouraging certain individuals from attending.

"Are you going somewhere, headmaster?" A soft, lilting voice addressed him.

Albus paused. This was a voice he very rarely heard, and did not particularly want to hear, but one that he felt compelled to pay attention to whenever it did speak. Warily, he turned and looked up at the portraits of the founders, hanging above the headmaster's seat. More specifically, at the sharp-looking man in green.

"Emergency Wizengamot meeting, Salazar," Albus nodded curtly, not wishing to elaborate too much. Ever since he became headmaster, he'd never really felt comfortable around Slytherin's portrait. The pair of silver eyes, even in painting, held a perceptive gleam that never failed to unnerve him. (Rather like the way his own "twinkling" blue ones sometimes unnerved others?) Its relatively high location in the office was such that Albus could generally avoid looking at it as he went about his daily business, so he did. Perhaps noticing Albus's discomfort, Slytherin generally didn't assert his presence either. He didn't chatter like the other portraits did, and most of the time Albus hazarded a glance at him, he was either absent or sleeping.

Most of the time, Albus was allowed to pretend that he wasn't there. Today seemed to be an exception. "It seems rather out of the blue, no? Are you certain it's wise, headmaster, to leave Quirrell unattended?"

"I've asked Severus to be on patrol in addition to Minerva. He's an expert duellist, and Minerva is formidable in her own right. I trust that they will be capable of keeping the school safe while I'm gone." How did Slytherin know about Quirrell? Albus had been careful not to let his suspicion for the possible Death Eater show while inside the headmaster's office. It wasn't that the portrait showed any inclination of sympathizing with Voldemort, of course, but Albus wasn't so delusional about his own abilities to pretend that Slytherin could be read like an open book. One couldn't be too cautious with people like him.

And he couldn't help but feeling that Slytherin knew too much already.

"If I may ask, why do you suspect Quirinus?"

Slytherin shrugged. "I have my ways,"

Of course.

"Back to my point, headmaster. Are you confident that Severus can handle Quirrell?"

"Yes, Salazar. Now I must get going, or the Wizegamot might berate me for my lateness," Albus managed a ghost of the whimsical smile that he usually gave everyone else. He almost pulled it off. "So if you'll excuse me -"

He was halfway through his turn when Slytherin stopped him again. "Headmaster."

Albus looked up to show that he was listening. The sooner this conversation ends the better.

"Are you aware that Quirrell's actions - his body and senses - are currently directly controlled by Voldemort?"

Albus stiffened, meeting the silver eyes for a fraction of a second. Then, he disapparated with a crack.

So. Quirrell finally decided to make another move.

After noting the location of several important names, Hermione tucked her map away before going downstairs to the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron, who had been returning from detention, appeared through the portrait hole soon after.

"Oh good, you waited!" Ron exclaimed when he saw her. "We thought you might still be angry!"

"I am, but we'll worry about that later," Hermione surveyed their breathless faces, "There seems to be a problem?"

They hurriedly told her about seeing an entity drinking unicorn blood. Having assumed (most likely correctly) that it was Voldemort, and after obtaining some hints from the centaurs, they realized that Voldemort was the one who wanted the stone all along. "We've got to do something!" Harry insisted, "Voldemort's killed my parents. I won't just stand aside and let him come back!"

"I'm with you, mate," Ron declared determinedly. Though their course of action was suboptimal and their decision ill-considered, their tones had a impressively hardened resolve that would surely make Godric proud.

Both boys were currently looking at her expectantly. Hermione looked slowly from one Gryffindor to the other. She'd feared they would say this. She'd known they would say this. 'See how early the path to martyrdom begins... Damn you, bloody Gryffindors.'

"Are you sure that we, as in the three of us, have to do something, and now? Can we not tell a teacher tomorrow?" Hermione asked. Having the boys running into Voldemort was the last thing she wanted. And no matter how strategically inadvisable to step in, what kind of person would she be if she just sits here watching students go off to their deaths without even trying to help?

"But Professor McGonagall insists that the stone is safe, and she said Professor Dumbledore's been summoned away for an important meeting! It's going to be tonight!"

"Professor Dumbledore's been summoned." Hermione repeated.

Harry nodded gravely.

'Well, I tried...'

"Then you're right. We've got to do something." She agreed. "We've got to head down to the dungeons and make sure Snape doesn't get anywhere near the Stone!"

"Yeah!"

There were so many problems with that plan that if Snape was truly the enemy, they would likely be doomed. Fortunately this time, in stereotypical Gryffindor fashion, they were already heading for the dungeons under Harry's invisibility cloak and did not spend time on considering alternatives. Today this was just what she needed.

So, they couldn't do nothing. But that didn't mean anyone had to gambol their lives either. If her assumptions up to now were correct, then Dumbledore would've most likely placed Snape on patrol tonight with special instructions to watch the third floor corridor. Meanwhile, Snape wouldn't dare go anywhere near the third floor corridor if it meant that Harry would follow along, since Harry's safety came first. With luck, he would lock the two in his office for her.

They did meet Snape coming out of the dungeons, and Harry and Ron tailed him dutifully. At this point, Hermione offered to go and wait outside the Headmaster's office to alert Dumbledore immediately upon his return. This, too, was accepted. 'Good luck, boys. And sorry about that, Severus.'

And now for herself...

Hermione climbed upstairs, bribing Peeves with a box of dungbombs in exchange for keeping the boys out of the third floor corridor as a precaution. She then made her way to the second floor girl's bathroom. Esmeralda's pipes extended nearly everywhere in the castle, and one of the multitude of concealed exits happened to be within the room in which 'Albus Dumbledore' was currently pacing. It functioned somewhat like the brick wall at Platform 9 3/4: One could see out, but not in.

Meanwhile, 'Quirinus Quirrell' seemed to be standing still, some distance away.

Voldemort had done her a favour by sending the fake summon, because it would've allowed Portrait Salazar to alert Dumbledore of Quirrell's attempt without giving herself away. Hopefully the sight of Dumbledore and the knowledge that his plan had been disrupted would cause Voldemort to flee. But if he insisted on duelling, well... two were better than one.

Checking one more time that Harry and Ron were still following Snape, Hermione transformed into the familiar horned viper and slithered off. The first time she'd done this, she'd been intrigued but not surprised to find that she was now black-brown and amber instead of black-green and silver. Well, that and being female.

'Well. Let's see what awaits at the end of this tunnel, shall we?'

Perhaps contrary to what he'd let Slytherin believe, Albus hadn't apparated to the Ministry of Magic, but to a room within Hogwarts itself. Disillusioning himself, he stood beside the Mirror of Erised and waited.

He didn't know that Voldemort was directly controlling Quirrell, in fact. He wondered how Slytherin came about this information, and why he decided to share it with him. One might almost think that Slytherin was concerned that Voldemort might succeed... He would think about it later. After he noticed Quirinus acting somewhat different after his return from his sabbatical, after he realized that Quirinus had travelled to Albania, he suspected that Professor Quirrell might be reporting to Voldemort. He didn't think their contact would be so close.

When he'd asked the professors to set up the "protections" for the Stone, he'd asked them to come up with the most frustratingly time consuming, yet most humiliatingly simple obstacles they could think of. Their goal had been to wear down either the intruder's patience and ability to think cool-headedly, or to tire him out if he chose to take all the barriers down by brute force. Severus's potions were a very nice touch, for example, as it forced the intruder to play word puzzles like a muggle.

He didn't tell them that their protections would also serve as an obstacle course for a first year. They probably wouldn't like it. On that note, he was a bit disappointed that Harry didn't investigate this corridor any further. Although, given the new context of the situation, he supposed this was fortunate.

At the end of the corridor, having come all this way, the intruder would still be unable to extract the stone in any case. The spell on the mirror, along with a multitude of others, would prevent that...

For virtually every wizard in the world, Albus could claim this with certainty. Unfortunately, Tom Marvolo Riddle was one of the exceptions, even though Albus couldn't see any way he could get at the Stone. His Death Eaters were nothing to worry about, but Tom... His pattern of logic, like Slytherin's, made it difficult to say anything for certain.

Slytherin was right. He didn't feel confident leaving Voldemort to Severus and the other professors, let alone letting him anywhere near Harry anytime soon. Originally he'd also been hoping that the moral burden of killing his own students and colleagues would stall Quirinus, but now that seemed unlikely as well. It was better to deal with him personally, and alone, to be safe.

Quirinus's victorious figure finally appeared through the black flames. Albus observed for sometime while Quirinus, and Tom, contemplated the mirror. He wondered what they'd see. Perhaps Quirinus presenting the stone to his master, or Tom returned to full power with the entire world kneeling at his feet? Finally, he removed the disillusionment charm on himself. "You won't get what you came for, Tom."

A high, cold laugh echoed through the chamber. It wasn't Quirinus's mouth that replied, but a sound source that seemed to be within the back of his turban. "Dumbledore." It spat. "You knew that I'm here, then?" And the purple turban was unravelled, revealing what was arguably the most grotesque face that Albus had ever seen. How it would awe people, if they knew that this was what the once handsome Tom Marvolo Riddle was on his way to becoming! "I didn't think you would ever realize."

"I suspected that Quirinus was working for you at the start of the year. I realized that you were controlling him like a puppet mere hours ago, regrettably. Even then, I had not a clue that you've physically attached yourself onto him."

"How did you know?" Tom demanded, in the same authoritative tone that he'd used the first day Albus met him at the orphanage.

Should Albus tell him that the information was willingly supplied by his own esteemed ancestor, to see what Voldemort's reaction would be?

"I have my ways, Tom." Better not bring Slytherin into this, when Albus himself hadn't had time to process what the portrait's surprising co-operativeness entailed. "I did not think anyone would go that far, Tom, even you."

Tom laughed. "There is no good or evil. There is only power. And those too weak to seek it suffer the consequence of their own stupidity."

"You're wrong, Tom, and I've told you many times already." He, too, had nearly believed that there was no good or evil. He and Gellert both. It was fortunate that he caught himself in time, possibly with his help ironically, or there would be two Dark Lords instead of one. And even then, some things were already too late to repair... "Will you attempt to duel me, or will you leave Hogwarts on your own?"

Another chilling laugh. "Since you're here, Dumbledore, I won't waste your time or mine. But know this: you have not killed me. You cannot kill me."

Albus knew that. There was the prophesy, after all.

With that, a black cloud rose from the back the back of Quirinus's skull. Albus did not pretend to be an expert in the mysterious field of soulcraft, especially since he'd actually conversed with one, but he'd studied them sufficiently in his youth to recognize the wraith for what it was. He looked down at Quirinus's body, now a lifeless heap on the floor. 'He wouldn't even spare his host, now that he's useless to him...'

Suddenly, Albus's vision went black, and he realized belatedly that he'd forgotten to watch the wraith. How foolish of him, to forget that Tom never gave up so easily! But that knowledge wouldn't help him now. He thrashed about in the darkness, his ears buzzing and his mind blank with shock. He tried to rack his brain, search all of his extensive knowledge and experience, for some scrap of information that would extract him from the smothering darkness, but came up with nothing. And somehow, it was still closing in, growing thicker and thicker...

Albus couldn't tell if it was real or his own imagination, but he could almost hear his former student's high laughter ringing next to his ear - giddy, like a boy who'd finally beaten his mother to the cookie jar. Elated, that he'd finally had the advantage over the one professor who'd always made him feel like a child. Victorious, to finally be able to assure himself that he was the most powerful wizard bar none.

Albus did still have his magic at his disposal, however. He could feel it flare about him even though he had no idea or control over what it was doing. It had to be doing something, though - he could feel the resistance. He thought it scattered like dust in some places, but remained steadfast, or else fought viciously before faltering, in others... Or wait. Maybe the wraith was circling him? He couldn't tell. All he could do was push out more power in hope that it would somehow make a difference.

Then, as suddenly as it came, the darkness receded.

Albus glanced around the now empty and peaceful room. He could feel himself shaking slightly from his previous surprise, the attack and the heavy use of magic. He must not allow himself to be caught off-guard again.

Taking one last look at the Mirror of Erised, of his family and Arianna, he gently picked up Quirinus and apparated them away.

Hermione watched as Voldemort's soul floated off into the ether, and knew that it was over - for the time being.

Portrait Salazar and Esmeralda were waiting expectantly upon her return. "Problem averted?"

"Not entirely, though for the most part yes," she told them, sinking heavily into the her walnut armchair. At the moment she felt very grateful for its existence. "Harry and Ron are still busy with Snape. Dumbledore came down to head Quirrell off, but he was attacked by Voldemort's wraith in the end and seemed to be losing. Fortunately, in attempting to defend himself, he'd sent out an impressive amount of magic, enough to enable me to banish the wraith by directing the headmaster's own power. Neither of them should suspect that they were fighting anyone other than each other...Voldemort actually attached himself to the back of Quirrell's head, by the way, not some spying mechanism. Even we had no idea."

Portrait Salazar frowned, trying to imagine how Voldemort would've accomplished that. "And how is our dearest cousin-some-hundred-times-removed?"

"His body is gone, but his soul is still tied to the realm of the living. It's terribly unhealthy, though. It felt wrong. It has far too little coherence, and was noticeably incomplete." Salazar had studies souls more than enough during his life, especially in the fifteen years after he'd left Hogwarts, to know that this was not normal.

"Might this be a ritual similar to the one you used?"

"I don't think so. Knowing his history, I doubt he would survive a ritual like mine. The potion I used... you have to be reasonably confident in the strength of your soul to try it. Otherwise it would not be able to pull itself back together, and you would simply die. And if you get the theory wrong - no. It's not his style."

"I see," he nodded slowly, committing this new bit of knowledge to memory for future processing. "The lack of coherence is due to the number of people he murdered then, most likely. But incomplete... Do you think he might've tried That?"

"The single worst thing one could do to oneself?" Hermione steepled her fingers, thinking. "From the evidence, it's not unlikely. And he did sound confident when he announced that Dumbledore cannot kill him."

"To murder for the purpose of intentionally tear his soul apart... " Portrait Salazar shook his head disgustedly, "We thought Herpo had to be the only one in all of history to do something so appalling, now that everyone else knew what happened to him. But now to see 'the Heir of Slytherin' following in his footsteps! Merope, even Marvolo, would never dream that - they would be horrified!"

Yes they would. While Marvolo was a swindling tramp and Merope a vain airhead, neither would ever imagine one of their family turning into a monster like Herpo. "This gives me something else to do for the next few years, I suppose. Find the horcrux. I've no idea where to start though, so that might take some time."

Portrait Salazar nodded. "I'll keep watching Albus, of course."

"He's suspicious that you knew about Quirrell's turban, most likely." This was the reason why they hadn't wanted to alert Dumbledore of it before.

"He is, but he's also used to me knowing things. You're safe for now."

"That's good to know. I should go and wait outside the headmaster's office as I promised now - Dumbledore needs to see me there when he returns from the hospital wing. And then perhaps I can spare Snape from the boys' torment. I do feel sorry for what I'm subjecting him to."

He chuckled. "Of course. Take care, Sal."

"Don't I always?"