AN: Hey, guess what! On Friday will be this story's first birthday! As such, I believe I will post one or possibly two chapters sometime on Friday, finishing off this part of the narrative. So stay tuned. Let's see if it can get 100 followers before then-only five to go! :D And do vote if you haven't already!

Harry had never been in Dumbledore's office before; it was a large, circular room with a lot of strange corners and interesting-looking artefacts and bowls of candy that Harry was slightly afraid to try.

"All right, so what happened to Voldemort?" Harry asked. "He was there, I mean I saw him, he was sticking out of the back of Quirrell's head…"

"We'll deal with the subject of Professor Quirrell in a moment, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, the Stone. I'm assuming it wasn't really in the jar of Potion."

Harry shook his head. "Well, it was at first," he said. "That's as far as Voldemort got in my memory, I guess. But it wasn't when I left my room."

"So you knew?" Coach's voice broke in, and he stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Harry. "That I switched it out? How did you know?"

"You switched it out?" said Dumbledore, sounding genuinely surprised.

Coach looked a little embarrassed. "It's just, I thought it maybe wasn't a safe place for it, and I realised every second Snape had it was another second he was in danger, so yesterday I decided…well…but of course I couldn't let him know, he'd either try to kill me or he'd blow the whole thing, so I switched it out, planted a fake; I've got the real one now."

"Well, by all means, Professor Potter, why don't you produce it?" Arbutus said. His clothes were now completely visible, and he stood quietly behind Dumbledore's chair, his sharp eyes darting around the room and studying its occupants.

Potter reached into his pocket and produced a stone the size of an egg, brilliant purple and many-faceted.

"But that's not…" said Hermione. She was cut off by Harry's shout of laughter.

"Sorry, Professor Dumbledore…sir…sorry. You would have found out that Stone was no good if you'd tried to use it," he said to Potter. "I was counting on the fact that you'd've never seen it…I mean, when I thought you were trying to…you know…so…I planted the fake."

Potter looked bewildered only for a second, and then his face broke out in a broad grin. He tossed the rock up in the air and caught it again.

"Well, well, well," he said, and it seemed to Harry as if something shifted ever so slightly in the way Coach looked at him.

"Wait, if Professor Potter got the fake yesterday," said Hermione slowly, "that means you must have swopped it out some time ago."

"It couldn't have been that long ago," said Potter, frowning. "I did sneak it out once…course, I got it all the way to Dumbledore without it turning visible again. It can't have been more than a matter of…"

"Weeks," said Harry.

"Weeks?!" Ron exclaimed. "You're telling me all those nights I spent terrified of falling asleep while you were off watching Fluffy's door were completely wasted? You planted a fake? You had It somewhere else all that time? You had it all sorted? You could've said!"

"I presume you do, in fact, know where it is, Mr Snape?" Dumbledore asked.

"That one goes to me," said Draco. He was sprawled in a chair next to Harry, looking bored and superior, the way he usually did, but he was also smiling in a way that showed how much he was enjoying himself. "When Professor Arbutus here came down out of the dormitory, Snapey brushed past me in the corridor and handed It over for safekeeping; I guess maybe he thought Professor Arbutus wasn't trustworthy."

"Right, and he thought you were," scoffed Ron. "I really hope that was another dummy. It was, wasn't it, Harry?"

Harry nodded and made a face. "Sorry, Malfoy, I mean it's not you. I thought you'd go to get help and I didn't know who even among the staff I could trust."

Draco looked suddenly affronted. He produced a stone, not the blood red of the Stone, but a medium orange that would be very easy to mistake in dim light.

"So you thought I'd just say I had It in my pocket?" said Draco. "What do you take me for?"

"Well…it was kind of a test, I guess," said Harry. "I mean, I always knew you were suspicious, but I wanted to make sure you could keep a secret…you know. And after all, I did want you to go get help."

"Set your mind at ease, Mr Snape; he keeps a secret quite admirably," said Dumbledore. "Mr Malfoy arrived at the door to the chambers shortly after I did and found me already in conversation with Miss Granger and Mr Weasley. I had no suspicion that he even thought he had the Stone. Once he informed me that you were in the company of Professor Arbutus, I had a very good idea where he was likely to be taking you."

"You…you figured it out ahead of time or something?" Harry asked. "Did you think this was going to…?"

"Hogwarts does have standard emergency procedures…much like Muggle schools have fire drills with prearranged rendezvous points."

"Oh," said Harry. "But Professor Potter…did you go find him, or…?"

"I was concerned," said Potter. "I've been keeping an eye on you and on Quirrell. When Quirrell wasn't in his room I thought something was up, so I came looking for you. And when I found you, Quirrell was about to blast your head off, so I…"

"James," said Dumbledore.

Potter ground his teeth. "You were the one who wanted to tell him everything. You were the one who wanted to put this on him. So let me…"

"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy," said Arbutus, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"What?!" said Ron. Hermione looked startled, and Draco frowned. "What about Harry?" Ron asked.

"Harry will join you shortly."

"If you think we're just gonna go off to bed…"

"It's all right," said Harry. "I'll tell you everything…everything I can."

"But…!"

Arbutus escorted them out of the room, Ron still protesting, and Harry was left sitting opposite Coach and Dumbledore.

It was funny, he thought, how a couple of hours could change things. When he went to bed that morning he could have sworn that Potter was a lying murderous power-hungry maniac, and that Dumbledore was completely deceived in him. If he had seen the two of them together he would have been suspicious, perhaps a little angry. Now he was mostly curious. He didn't like Coach any better than he had…or not much, anyway…but he wasn't angry.

"Quirrell was about to blast my head off, so you…" Harry prompted.

Dumbledore and James looked at each other, and Dumbledore nodded slightly.

"Well, Professor?"

James crossed the room in three strides and made a motion like grabbing at the air. There was a slight noise and a breath of air and suddenly the body of Quirrell—Lord Voldemort—whatever—appeared, head lolling grotesquely as it hovered a few inches from the floor. Coach gave his wand a flick and the body dropped and landed with a sickening thump.

"It's called preventative action," said Coach.