Disclaimer: Second Harry Potter to the right, and straight on till JK Rowling.

Chapter 36

With the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff fast approaching, all of the Gryffindors were getting increasingly nervous. Even Hermione, who wasn't a big sports fan, was getting very worried because of Professor Snape's involvement, and everyone else thought that Snape would find some way to force a Hufflepuff win and knock Gryffindor out of the running for the Quidditch Cup. Even Harry couldn't think of a better explanation, so the day before the match, he decided to take action: he stayed after class in Potions.

"Professor," he said as he approached the front of the room, ignoring Hermione's frantic waving for him to stop, "may I ask you something?"

Professor Snape looked down at him condescendingly. "You may ask," he replied.

"Why are refereeing the Quidditch match tomorrow?"

A trembling Hermione edged up behind Harry, her fingers poised to snap and draw her wand from her holster.

Snape raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Is there a problem with my refereeing the match, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, sir…it's just that…many of us in Gryffindor are concerned that it's a conflict of interest."

Snape was surprised, though he didn't show it. That was more restrained than he would have expected from the boy. Perhaps he should string him along a little further to see what happened: "And why should it be a conflict of interest? Slytherin will not be playing tomorrow."

Harry took a deep breath. "But as a head of house you are a team sponsor, sir, and Slytherin's position in the rankings will be affected by the outcome of the match."

"And because of that you feel that I am incapable of acting impartially?" Snape said threateningly. "Is that it, Potter?"

It's a trap! Harry thought. He tried to backtrack fast: "I…I…I don't think it's a secret that a lot of students feel that way, Professor."

"Which obviously includes yourself, or you wouldn't be here right now." Harry quailed and stepped back. No matter that the boy's assessment was true, Snape thought. He was enjoying this too much. Now to twist the knife: "As it happens, this is for your benefit, Potter. The Headmaster felt that it would be good to have someone more familiar with the Dark Arts close at hand should your broom mysteriously 'malfunction' again—"

"But then wouldn't Professor Quirrell be a better choice, sir?" Hermione burst out. Harry whirled around and glared at her.

What's this? Snape thought. A difference of opinion? Perhaps she is the instigator in all this. And if so, it would seem her brother's instincts are better than hers. He was very tempted to reach out with Legilimency, but that wouldn't go over too well with Albus. And anyway, he was cleverer than that. "The Headmaster trusts my judgement in this matter, Miss Granger. If you would prefer to have Professor Quirrell referee the match that is something you ought to take it up with him," he said.

And there it was. A faint flicker of horror crossed Potter's face when he suggested that Quirrell might take his place. It seems I did misjudge him. He's not quite as single-minded about Quidditch as his father. I shall have to inform Albus that the boy is also on to Quirrell.

"I'll…I'll discuss that with the team, Professor," Harry said nervously, though Snape suspected he had no intention of doing so. "Thank you for informing me of the situation."

Snape nodded curtly and said, "If that is all…" Harry quickly pulled his sister out of the room. Just before they left, Snape muttered too quietly for them to hear, "A point to Gryffindor for vigilance." It technically met the requirement of being spoken in their presence, but the foolish lions would be wondering all day why the books didn't balance.

Hermione didn't speak to Harry for the rest of the day, since he steadfastly refused to speak to Dumbledore or even the rest of the team about switching referees, even though he still doubted himself that Snape would be impartial. He wished he could find some hard evidence against Quirrell to convince her that he wasn't a good guy. The gun lesson had soured her on him, but she still insisted he meant well. Of course, he knew Hermione felt the same way about Snape, and Sirius was obviously on her side whenever they spoke of it to him.

Even Mum and Dad had a problem with Snape, although that was mostly based on the quality of his teaching, something on which Harry could agree with them, and they were appropriately furious about Quirrell's gun lesson and had joined in the children's complaint, as had the Finch-Fletchleys when they contacted them.

Unbeknownst to Harry, Hermione had used her time alone to perfect a really good wandless Leg-Locker Curse that she could use against Snape if he caused any trouble. If he did try to hurt Harry, she thought, she'd be ready, and when she saw the teams line up on the pitch the next day, she was really worried she might have to use it. Snape looked even more evil than usual. She stood beside Ron and Neville in the stands, watching the Potions Master like a hawk as the match began.

"And they're off, with Angelina Johnson taking the Quaffle for Gryffindor," Lee Jordan commentated.

Hermione watched as Harry rose high in the air and began circling the pitch a safe distance from Snape.

"Ouch!

Draco Malfoy had elbowed Ron in the head as he and his minions filed into the row behind them.

"Oh, sorry, Weasley, I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, right," Ron muttered as he watched the pitch.

"Say, Granger, your 'brother's' supposed to be rich," Malfoy needled. "Why didn't he spring for a broom that actually works?"

Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself to ignore the jab, keeping her eyes on Harry.

"You think he'll get lucky and not fall off again?"

She said nothing and instead focused on Lee Jordan's commentary: "Bell passes to Spinnet—Oh! Intercepted by Truman! And George Weasley hits a Bludger at Truman—Hey! Since when is that a foul?"

Malfoy laughed as Snape gave Truman a penalty shot, to the glares of the Gryffindors, but out on the pitch, even Wood didn't try to argue the call.

"That was a real stroke of genius for Professor Snape to referee," he went on. "I bet if he'd known Dumbledore would fall for it that easy, he would've done it years ago. Quickest way to take Gryffindor out of the running—well, besides the Gryffindor team, anyway."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Ron told the blond boy. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled out, "Harry Potter is our king!"

A few Gryffindors called back: "Harry Potter is our king!"

"Potter can catch anything!" Ron yelled the next line, this time with Hermione and Neville joining in. And with that, the chant was going strong.

"Sounds like lots of Potter fans here today," Lee Jordan said. "He put on quite a show at the first match. Let's see if he can follow it up."

Harry waved to the crowd as he circled the pitch, to loud cheering, which grew even louder as Katie Bell scored on Hufflepuff. But then, Snape called a penalty against her for no reason at all, and the Hufflepuff Chaser managed to score back on the penalty shot.

"She didn't even do anything!" Lee Jordan yelled.

"You know, Theo," Malfoy said loudly to Nott, "I think Gryffindor picks the people they feel sorry for to be on their team. I mean, you've got the Weasley's, who've got no money, and then Potter, who's just plain nuts. Say, Longbottom, why didn't you try out? Squibs can still fly brooms, can't they?"

"I'll show you who's a squib, Malfoy," Neville said, drawing his wand, but the Slytherins just laughed at him.

"It's too bad we couldn't get hold of that shotgun thing of Quirrell's," Malfoy continued. "Maybe we could scare Potter off the pitch."

That was too much. Hermione, to the shock of everyone standing nearby, whipped around and slapped Malfoy hard across the face, casting a weak wandless Stinging Jinx the moment her hand made contact for extra emphasis. "That's not funny, Malfoy!" she screamed.

Malfoy staggered and yelped in pain, rubbing his cheek. "Why you mudb—Oof!" he made to throttle Hermione, but Neville, to even his own surprise, stepped in front of her and knocked Malfoy back with a karate chop—not a very good one—he hurt his arm about as much as he hurt Malfoy—but still. Then, the other Slytherins joined in…

But Harry was oblivious to all this, as he was keeping his eyes fixed on the game. He needed to catch the Snitch before Snape helped Hufflepuff get too far ahead. Suddenly, he saw it, hovering right behind Snape's head, of all places. He couldn't believe his luck. The Snitch was charmed to be especially difficult to find early in the game. Catches this fast were usually made by accident. He tipped into a dive.

"And Potter's seen something," Lee Jordan said. "He's diving—he's—he's—he's charging Snape?!"

A look of utter horror appeared on Severus Snape's face as he looked up and saw the image of his arch-nemesis zooming out of the sky directly at him, but he didn't have time to call anything before the boy shot past him, missing him by inches.

"Wait—he's—HE'S GOT IT! POTTER'S CAUGHT THE SNITCH!" There was a deafening roar from the crowd. "Amazing! Under five minutes! That's gotta be a record! I've never seen anything like it!"

Hermione looked up from where she and Ron were holding off Malfoy and Nott. In a moment, the fight stopped completely as Slytherins saw what had happened.

Harry landed to the adulation of his housemates and even a kind word from Professor Dumbledore. Snape looked pretty angry, but at least Harry hadn't got his broom jinxed. Then, McGonagall confirmed that this was the fastest catch of the Snitch at Hogwarts since accurate records had been kept. His housemates were so excited by that that they bowled him over onto the damp grass that they were fast trampling to mud. He didn't expect to get dirtier after the match than during it, but it was worth it.

Then his sister ran up to him, her hair even more messed up than normal, flanked by Ron with a bloody nose and Neville with a black eye.

"What happened to you?" he said.

"We'll explain later," Hermione said sheepishly.

"Okay…You go ahead. I gotta get cleaned up in the locker room."

"Sure. Great job out there." She hugged him and started back to the castle.

Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy trudged back to the castle behind the main group of students, his face still stinging. That hadn't been his best move. Apparently, muggle-borns really were that sensitive about guns. Also, apparently, Granger had quite an arm on her. Still, the knowledge might yet prove useful. If he could paint Potter and Granger as dangerous and unstable…Yes, that might be worth suggesting to Father.

Harry took his time wiping the mud off himself, basking in the glory of his record-breaking catch. He was the last to leave the locker room, strolling over to the broom shed to put away his Nimbus before heading back to the castle and making a dramatic and fashionably late entrance to the party.

But just as he reached the broom shed, he spotted something: a dark-robed figure came out of the castle. It was hunched and had its robes drawn tight around it, as if trying to be less conspicuous, but Harry recognised the over-large head at once: Quirrell's turban. He was headed toward the Forbidden Forest.

Harry's curiosity got the better of him. Why would Quirrell be going into the forest when everyone else was either at lunch or partying? He hopped back on his broomstick and followed Quirrell from high up.

He could just barely follow Quirrell through the trees. The Defence Professor walked a little way in until he came to a small clearing, and then appeared to be waiting. Harry landed as silently as he could in a tall beech tree to watch from above.

A few minutes later, another dark-robed figure entered the clearing. This one Harry recognised by his prowling gait: Snape. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought.

Snape started to say something, but Harry couldn't quite make it out. Taking a bit more of a risk, he to transformed cat form so he could see and hear better, holding his broomstick against the branch with one paw. As long as a sudden breeze didn't hit it, it should stay put.

"Alright, Severus, we're here," Quirrell said impatiently. "Why ever you wanted to meet all the way out here—"

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private." Snape sounded more sarcastic than usual. "It wouldn't do to go blathering about the Philosopher's Stone where we might be overheard, would it?"

"And what about it?" Quirrell asked. He lowered his voice so that Harry could just barely hear it with his cat's ears. "It's safe behind our traps, and Dumbledore's—"

"And have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" Snape interrupted.

"What, Fluffy? Why don't you work that out for yourself," Quirrel mocked him. "I seem to recall you were the one who needed it."

"As if you weren't behind that whole incident. I'd expect such treachery from an average Defence Professor, but you were supposedly a loyal colleague for years. Let me be clear: you don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."

"But why should we be enemies?" Quirrell said smoothly. "We both want the same thing, don't we?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Snape snapped. An owl hooted loudly nearby, by Harry didn't miss Snape's voice: "Tell me what you want the Stone for. What, you think it wasn't obvious when you used a mere troll for your little bit of hocus pocus? I'm waiting."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Severus. I want to protect the Stone, the same as you, and you know that Dumbledore approved all the protections, anyway."

"You insist on playing dumb with me, do you Quirrell? Very well, we'll have another little chat soon, once you've figured out where your loyalties lie and actually have something to show for it." Snape threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing.

"Perhaps you are the one who needs to reevaluate your loyalties, Severus," Quirrell called after him. Snape didn't react.

Harry was very late to the party by the time he made it back to Gryffindor Tower, but he didn't care. He had to tell Hermione and then Sirius and Remus what he'd heard.

Hermione was not happy. "Harry, where have you been?" she squeaked when he got back to the Common Room.

"Harry, that was awesome!" Ron interrupted. "You broke a school record, and I gave Malfoy a black eye. And Neville took on Crabbe and Goyle, didn't you Nev?"

"Yeah," Neville grunted from his seat, apparently nursing a headache.

"What happened out there?" Harry said.

"Malfoy happened," Hermione said flatly. "What were you doing? I was getting worried Snape hexed you or something."

"Well, Snape was there, but it wasn't that," Harry said cryptically. "I need to talk to you in private…" He appraised Ron and Neville. "You two can come, too." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's about the you-know-what on the third floor."

Ron's and Neville's eyes widened. Harry had mentioned about the Philosopher's Stone to them shortly after Christmas. They looked at each other, then got up to follow him.

After a brief round at the party, Harry retrieved his mirror and led the group to an empty classroom, making sure Peeves wasn't around before shutting the door.

"Harry, is that a two-way mirror?" Neville said in awe. "They're really rare."

"Yeah. I got it for Christmas—though I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention I had it." The other boys nodded. "Sirius Black."

Of course, the first thing Sirius and Remus wanted to know was how the Quidditch match went, and it took them quite a while for them to finish celebrating Harry's record breaking catch. Then, Hermione had to tell her story of what the Slytherins had done, to both laughs and admonishments to be careful from the alleged adults in the conversation.

"You didn't have to do that for me, Mione," Harry said. "Although it is pretty funny."

"Yeah, I know. So what's your story? Why were you so late getting back?"

"Right. Listen. When I was coming back to the castle, I saw Quirrell heading out to the Forest, and I thought it was suspicious, so I followed him on my broom."

"What!" the other children yelled.

"You flew into the Forbidden Forest in broad daylight and didn't get caught? Excellent!" his godfather added.

"This is serious!"

"I think your friends already know who I am."

"Argh! I saw Quirrell meeting with Snape in the Forest." And Harry told them about the conversation he had overheard. "So that means Quirrell's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape's trying to stop him."

"I don't know cub," Sirius said suspiciously. "It's kind of hard to tell from just what you said. It sounds to me like maybe Snape's trying to get Quirrell to let him in on the scheme."

"Or Quirrell's innocent, and Snape only thinks he's after the Stone," suggested Hermione.

"Nah," said Remus, "I'd put better money on the Defence Professor being up to something."

"W-we need to tell somebody, don't we?" Neville said.

"What?" Harry said in surprise. "Who could we tell, though? We're not supposed to know about any of this."

"He's right, Harry," Remus replied. "If the Philosopher's Stone is in danger, that's too big to let it lay."

"Well, maybe, but who? McGonagall will skin me if I tell her I flew into the Forest."

"I bet she knows more than one way, too," Sirius quipped.

Harry glared at him and made a small jerk of his head toward Neville.

"Sorry."

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly. "There's one person who already knows we know—Hagrid. We could warn him, and then he could tell Dumbledore."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Harry agreed.

"Can it wait till after the party, though?" Ron said. "I wanna get some more food."

The others rolled their eyes, but they agreed.

"We figured out what's in the third floor corridor," Harry told Hagrid after they went through yet another play-by-play of the Quidditch match. The huge man tensed up. "It's the Philosopher's Stone."

"Yeah, well don' go spreadin' that around," Hagrid grumbled. "That's top secret, that is. An' yeh certainly didn' hear anythin' about it from me."

"Okay, but Hagrid, we think there's a problem…" Harry started.

"We think one of the teachers is trying to steal it," Ron blurted out.

"Poppycock!" Hagrid roared. "Who would try an' do that?"

Harry and Hermione each shot each other a sharp look.

"Either Snape or Quirrell," Hermione conceded. "Maybe both."

"That's ridiculous. Neither of them would do nothin' like that."

"Not even Quirrell?" Harry pressed. "You know, the Defence Professor?"

"He wouldn't. I've known him for years. Where'd yeh get an idea like that, anyway, Harry?"

"I…I rather not say," he said nervously. "But I've got good reasons. Could you please just…tell Dumbledore for me?"

"Well, I s'pose I could…but I still think yer barkin' up the wrong tree." Harry winced at the idiom.

But suddenly Neville spoke up: "Are there any other teachers guarding the Stone, Hagrid."

"Well o' course there are." The half-giant counted on his fingers. "Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore himself did somethin'. Course, nothin'll get past Fluffy, anyway," he finished proudly.

"Well, that's something," Harry admitted.

"Hmm…wait!" Hermione remembered something. "Now that I think about it, I don't think anyone ever put a stronger locking charm on that door," Hermione remembered. "Did Dumbledore ever do anything about that?"

"Uh…no. Don' think he did," Hagrid said. "Said it weren't needed. After all, nobody's been hurt in there."

"It still seems awfully dangerous. And if anyone can get in and out anytime, it might be easier for them to find a way past Fluffy."

"Impossible! Not a soul knows but me an' Dumbledore. I'll let him know what yer thinkin', but mind yeh, yer worrying over nothin'."

Harry accepted this assessment for the moment, and the children went back up to the castle. But as he walked, something else was nagging at the back of Harry's mind: Quirrell had said that Dumbledore approved all the protections. So why would he approve a "mere troll" if Snape thought it wasn't good enough?

Meanwhile, as soon as Neville felt up to it again, he was back with Harry and Hermione in the disused seventh-floor corridor practising karate. Or rather Harry and Hermione were practising karate, and Neville was mimicking them. They had never really questioned him about what he was doing, and he had never really mentioned it, and moreover, they had never really coached him much at it, even to the extent they could.

That meant that Neville had improved a little, but only slowly. Only showing up about once a week and not having formal instructors wasn't a way to get really good. Until now, Harry and Hermione had simply humoured anyone who wanted to join in and walked them through a kata, or a little more if they came regularly, thinking that any interest was good. But after Neville's attempt to join in the fight at the Quidditch match, they had to wonder if they were giving him a false sense of security.

"Say, Neville—" Harry said cautiously. "Not that we mind or anything, but why you come up here to practice with us?"

Neville turned rather red and looked down. "W-well…you see…" He stammered. "My Gran wants me to do well here—get good grades and everything, especially in Defence—I think she really wants me to become an Auror someday, like my parents. But I'm not that good in classes, and I know I'm not that good at fighting either—I mean, I got creamed by Crabbe and Goyle. I'm not strong or in good shape, even. But you two, you're really good. I couldn't believe it when you broke those boards with your bare hands. So I just thought…if I copied you, some…"

"Oh, Neville…" Hermione said sympathetically.

"Look, mate," Harry replied, "it's nice that you want to learn, but we're not really qualified to teach it—I mean, we could probably teach the lower ranks, but…"

"But how'd you learn it, though?"

"We had a good muggle teacher…and classes three days a week for five years."

Neville's eyes went wide, and he turned pale.

"A black belt is like a good O.W.L. score in Defence," Hermione explained. "Except it's more impressive to muggles because so few people learn it. But it's about the same amount of work."

"And that's not really even the point of why we do this every day," Harry added.

"Th-then why do you?" Neville asked in confusion.

"Well, I still think it's an important skill," Hermione countered. "But honestly, this is mostly just for exercise at this point, and to keep our reflexes up," Hermione said. "It's not really proper training. We'd prefer to spend some time practising duelling, but there's not really a space where we can do it."

"You know, I wonder if we should change our routine to make it more serious exercise," Harry mused. "The katas are good, but I don't think they're keeping us in as good a shape as they could."

Hermione cocked her head and thought about this: "It's worth a thought…I don't want to get too out of practice, though. Karate's still a good skill to have."

"We can always catch up over the summer with Sensei John. I think he'd let drop in for just a month or two. And it's not like we have a sensei here to keep us in really good form, anyway. Plus, the duelling's gonna be more important once we really get started at it."

"Well, there's that. I suppose we should focus more on skills that are important with magic. We can write Mum and Dad and ask for advice on a general exercise routine."

"Great," Harry replied. "And Neville, you can join in if you want to get in shape. It might be a little easier with a more standard exercise routine. But you'd need to come more often to get much good out of it—not every day, but maybe three days a week."

"G-gee, thanks, Harry," Neville said. "I…I'll think about it."

"And I don't think you're that bad in your classes, Neville," Hermione encouraged him. "Like Charms." And it was true, though he couldn't be called much better than average. "And you're actually serious competition for us in Herbology."

"Well, for me," Harry said. "Not for Hermione."

Neville turned red again and mumbled a thanks.

Over the next week, Harry and Hermione refined their exercise routine, and Neville did, indeed, show up three times, though he was winded by the end of the routine every time. If he wasn't skilled, he was certainly dedicated. After all, the Sorting Hat had debated whether to put him in Hufflepuff for a full four minutes for a reason.

Dear Harry and Hermione,

Congratulations to Harry on winning the Quidditch game and breaking the school record! We don't know how you keep pulling off things like that, but we're proud of you.

However, we're also very disappointed in you, Harry, for flying off into the Forest like that. It was only by luck that you didn't get caught, much less learnt something important.

But be that as it may, the problem with Professors Snape and Quirrell is the most important thing to worry about. We strongly encourage you to go directly to Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, or someone else you trust about your concerns, and tell them the whole story, even if it means getting in trouble. From what Sirius says, this sounds more important.

We also want the two of you not to fight about this. Your should be careful around both Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell if you think they might both be up to no good. Don't ignore any evidence about either of them.

Now, the other thing we wanted to talk to you about was to trying to do something about Professor Snape regarding his teaching habits. We've compared notes with the Tonkses, and we think he has several problems. One is that he only accepts O's to N.E.W.T.-level, when most teachers accept E's, which means only half as many people qualify. The second problem is that he doesn't really try to teach, and third, he's such an unfair teacher that he makes a lot of people hate the subject. The fact that he's singlehandedly cutting the applicant pool for Aurors and healers in half means something needs to be done.

We thought we would publish an anonymous open letter to the Board of Governors in the Daily Prophet explaining the problems we have with Professor Snape and also encourage other parents and former students like Dora to do the same. Then, maybe we could see some action. But we wanted to make sure you were okay with it first—especially with his tense relationship with Harry, not to mention Remus and Sirius, plus your recent concerns.

We hope things continue to go well with you, and you don't have any more of these problems. And Harry, don't go looking for trouble, either.

Love,

Mum and Dad

No one had mentioned Hermione's fight with Malfoy to their parents, which was probably a good thing, considering how much else they had to worry about.

"The thing is, I'm not sure about Dumbledore right now," Harry said as they discussed the letter with their godfather and honorary uncle.

"Why not?" Remus said in surprise.

"It's just that he seems so…cavalier about this—like not putting a stronger lock on that door. I don't understand what his game is."

"Well, what about Professor McGonagall?" Hermione said. "You trust her, don't you?"

"Yes, but…I don't know. I've got a funny feeling about this whole thing."

"Funny feeling how?" Sirius asked with concern.

"That's the thing. I can't sort it out, even in cat form. It's just that something doesn't feel right—It's not about not getting in trouble, honest. It's just that I'm not sure who to trust—and yes, Hermione, I know I'm being paranoid. I can't help it. Maybe it comes with the feline territory."

"Could be," Remus said. "I can smell trouble on someone from the minute I meet them, and Padfoot's usually pretty good, too."

"Mum and Dad are right, though, Harry," Hermione said. "We need to tell someone—We really should be able to tell Professor McGonagall. She's a cat animagus, too."

"I know. I know," Harry said. "And I think I will. But…please let me try to sort this out first. Something doesn't add up, and I don't like it."

His sister sighed: "Okay, I will. But I won't wait forever."

"Thanks…So what do you think about Operation Snape?"

Sirius grinned. "I'm game for any plan that sticks it to Snivellus," the old dog said.

"Honestly, Padfoot," Remus muttered. "I've looked into it a bit myself. The complaints against Snape pile up every year. The exam scores alone show that the quality of teaching has declined with him…"

"And even after hearing about it for four months, I still can't picture that man as a teacher," Sirius finished. "Or not any kind of good one."

"We may be biased, but it looks like anything you can do to improve Professor Snape—" Remus concluded.

"Or remove him—" Sirius cut in.

"—would be a benefit to the school as a whole. And those kinds letters are probably the best chance to do it. Throwing money around would get you nowhere with Lucius Malfoy chairing the Board. The only trouble is, I don't know if the Prophet would actually print those kinds of letters."

Sirius had an answer to that: "Well, if they don't, I've still got a line on that guy from the Quibbler—Lovegood—I'm sure he'd print them. The Quibbler's not exactly mainstream—" Remus snorted. "—but it's better than nothing."

"Well, it sounds like a good idea to me," Harry said. "Snape won't like it, but it'll be anonymous, won't it. What's the worst that could happen?" He saw Hermione's 'thinking' face. "Don't answer that."