A/N: I am extremely sorry for the long wait! These upcoming chapters have been a pain to write, especially since this story has changed so much over the past year. I will do my best to have the next chapter to you as soon as possible (I'm planning on doing a great deal of editing tomorrow, so fingers crossed!).

I hope you enjoy this one, and thank you so much to everyone who has read this far. Your reviews mean the world to me.


Chapter Twenty-Three: Searching for Snape

Lucius Malfoy moved as quickly as he could. He'd taken off his shoes and stuffed them into the pocket of the Invisibility Cloak, making his footsteps near-inaudible as he hurried toward the ground floor of the castle. He exited the dorms using the back staircase that led directly to the main level of the dungeons. He wished to avoid the common room and anyone inside it at all costs.

No, Lucius thought, that wasn't what he wished. It was what the Dark Lord himself desired.

If Lucius was in charge, he'd notify Severus right away as to the shocking events that had changed his world, but the Dark Lord insisted the man wasn't to be trusted. Lucius would obey the Dark Lord to his last breath, yet he knew there must be a terrible misunderstanding. He trusted Severus's loyalty to the cause with his life. If the latter claimed the Philosopher's Stone hidden beneath the castle was a forgery, that was only because he truly believed that was the case. Lucius told himself once the Dark Lord was restored the matter would be sorted out. It had to be. Right now the main thing was to focus on was completing his mission as ordered.

He passed through the tapestry blocking the top of the hidden staircase and hurried down the corridor, ignoring the shouts of the portrait just outside. The painting was already on edge; just minutes before Lucius and his son had pushed aside the tapestry while invisible, and now the portrait was on full alert.

"Intruder! Reveal yourself!" Gwydion's voice echoed through the corridor as Lucius hurried away. "When the housemaster hears of this-"

Lucius ignored him. The passageway had been there long before he was a student at Hogwarts, but the portrait was a new addition, no doubt by Severus to keep an eye on students sneaking out after curfew. The man ruled Slytherin with an iron fist, completely unlike Slughorn's absent approach to his house. Lucius couldn't say he disagreed with Severus's methods; he and most of the Slytherin parents approved of his strict regime. As much as Lucius had wanted to send Draco to Durmstrang to receive a proper education, it was a genuine consolation to know his son would be guided by a traditional housemaster who also happened to be a true believer to the cause.

Lucius's stomach, already in knots, tightened further as he thought of Severus. He didn't want to believe his friend had lied to him, but-

No. It would be sorted out. This was all Dumbledore's doing. Severus had claimed the Stone under the castle was a fake because he'd been given false information, and not for any other reason. Lucius forced his thoughts away from the subject, and instead focused on his son, and how much his world was about to change.

Lucius exhaled. Draco. His dearest, only child. He and Narcissa had spoiled him, he knew that. The boy had been born during the dying gasp of the war, and Lucius's wife was determined to ensure he would never know the suffering of those days. Lucius, while not as outwardly indulgent as Narcissa, turned a blind eye to some of the child's more excessive tendencies. He considered it penance for Draco having to grow up in a world in which they'd lost, instead of the glorious one they'd fought for. Besides, Lucius assumed the boy would have the worst of his tantrums stamped out once he attended Hogwarts.

He sped up the slightest bit, trying to ignore his stomach's continued twisting and turning.

Things were about to be very different. The world Lucius had dreamed of for his son, and had long since mourned and buried, would be upon them in mere hours. The ideals Lucius's generation had fought so hard for would be embraced once more, not hidden behind closed doors. In fact, Draco would have every door opened for him. It was nothing but miraculous.

And yet, despite his joy, Lucius was worried. He was worried for what the Dark Lord would say of his insistence he'd been under the Imperius Curse during the war, instead of proudly going to Azkaban with the most fervent of the old crowd. He told himself that sin would be wiped clean due to his actions today, but he worried all the same. He worried even more for his son, and how he would adjust. The world that would come to pass was idyllic, but it also required discipline and obeying orders without question. Lucius couldn't deny that the boy was spoiled, and he was outspoken. Lucius knew what it meant to follow commands blindly, to do as he was told without questioning why.

It was going to be difficult to teach Draco to do the same.

Lucius's palm still tingled from having struck the boy moments before. The action made him feel as though he might be sick. The thought of what might happen to Draco if he spoke the way he just had once the Dark Lord returned, however...

Lucius sped up even more. Draco was young, he told himself. A child. He'd have barely any sustained, direct exposure to the Dark Lord until he was much older. He'd learn. He'd adapt. And once he brought Harry Potter to the third floor, he'd be a hero known by all for generations to come.

Lucius paused. An older boy stood at the foot of the staircase to the Entrance Hall, staring down the corridor in the direction of the Potions classroom at two smaller, retreating figures. One of the children, a boy about Draco's age, turned to look over his shoulder, then looked away. He looked vaguely familiar to Lucius, but before he could get a good look at him the two children disappeared into the classroom. Lucius waited, but the older boy didn't move, instead leaning against the doorjamb and seemingly pondering the complexities of life.

Lucius silently swore to himself, debating whether he should wait for the boy to move or make his way to one of the secret passageways within the dungeons. He knew there was one not far from the portrait of Gwydion that led directly to the second floor, but it had been so long since he'd been a student that he no longer remembered where the entrance was.

He briefly debated stunning the boy, though the last thing he needed was someone finding him and putting the castle on alert before the job was complete. Then, at last, the boy stepped away from the doorway, walking past Lucius, further into the dungeons. It hit Lucius that he was Bartholomew Flint's son, Marcus. Lucius had met him several times over the years, and heard a great deal about him and his devotion to the cause from his father.

Lucky boy, Lucius thought to himself. He had no idea how bright his future was about to become.


Hermione and Neville started down the grand staircase toward the dungeons for the second time that day, both feeling perfectly miserable.

"I can't believe I forgot my bag," Hermione said, more to herself than to Neville. She turned to him and added, "You didn't have to come along."

"Don't want to be by myself," Neville said simply. They reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, both deflating as they thought of the events the night before.

"We shouldn't have done it," Hermione said, her eyes welling up for the fifth time that day. "It wasn't our cloak."

"It wasn't," Neville agreed.

"It was a horrid thing to do," Hermione went on, rubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak.

"It was."

"Harry would be perfectly right to never speak to us again."

"He would be."

The two Gryffindors deflated even further.

"I don't know how to make it up to him," Hermione said as they started toward the stairs to the dungeons. "How can we make it up to him?"

"I don't think we can," Neville said. "I think it's too late. It's already been done."

Hermione let out a sniffle at this, but she nodded in agreement. "I suppose you're right. Neville, I wish we hadn't done it."

"Neither do I," Neville said. "But-"

"We did," Hermione completed for him.

It was with the air of a particularly somber funeral procession that they arrived in the dungeons and started toward the Potions classroom.

"Oi, what are you two doing here?"

Neville and Hermione paused and turned around. Neville's heart sank. Marcus Flint was visible further up the staircase, and his scowl intensified as he descended toward them.

"I forgot my bag," Hermione said with more bravery than Neville suspected she actually felt. "Don't worry. We're not staying."

"Good," Marcus said, reaching the bottom of the stairs. "I don't care what the firsties say. You're not welcome here."

"Professor Snape says we're welcome here," Neville said, and immediately froze, shocked that he'd stood up for himself. It was with significantly more stammering that he added, "So- erm- it shouldn't be a problem, then."

Marcus towered over him and Neville swallowed hard. He vividly remembered his first trip to the Slytherin common room and the 'welcome' Marcus had given him. It had taken months before he could gather the nerve to even consider coming within eyesight of the Slytherin common room again.

"That may be true, but I'm a sixth year," Marcus said, his voice low. "Nearly a seventh year. Snape won't be my housemaster forever. And you won't be under Dumbledore's eye forever, Longbottom."

Neville understood the implication. He thought of his mum and dad, both of whom he'd visited over the Christmas holidays, and he was torn between the desire to either run back to the Gryffindor common room, or to punch Marcus Flint straight in the nose. As impossibly wonderful as the latter would be (for roughly three seconds before Flint murdered him on the spot), his brain overwhelmingly screamed at him to do the former. He was surprised to find that, for once, his body didn't obey his desire to flee, instead standing its ground on shaky legs as Hermione tugged at his hand.

"Come on, Neville," she said quietly. "Let's just get my bag and go. It's not worth it."

Neville nodded, swallowing hard and allowing Hermione to guide him. Marcus snorted after them, and Neville felt incredibly vulnerable walking away with his back exposed. Unable to help himself, he looked over his shoulder and saw Marcus standing in the doorway to the stairs, watching them go. The older boy didn't say a word, but his face said enough.

Neville turned away and forced himself to slowly inhale and exhale. Hermione was right. Marcus Flint wasn't worth it.


Marcus Flint leaned against the archway, watching Granger and Longbottom disappear into the classroom.

He wished he could do more. He wished he could string the little Mudblood and the Mudblood-lover up by their toes and learn how to use the Cruciatus curse once and for all. Not that he'd ever get away with attempting an Unforgiveable on another student, much less a bloody Gryffindor. If Dumbledore found out he'd be chucked out of school and his wand snapped in half.

It was a fantasy, nothing more, especially with Snape as head of Slytherin. Snape was a Mudblood-lover, no doubt about it, though whenever Marcus tried to convince his father of this he simply brushed it off as Marcus being young and irritated by the firmness of his housemaster. His father had reassured him a thousand times over that Snape was loyal, and that simply put up the façade of going along with Dumbledore because the alternative was a housemaster who was truly loyal to the senile old fool, as opposed to just pretending to be.

Marcus considered his father to be nearly as much of a fool as Dumbledore.

If Marcus actually gave into his deepest desires and unleashed an Unforgiveable on a Gryffindor, he suspected Snape would side with Dumbledore and have him expelled. Even if he didn't, Marcus remembered perfectly well what had happened three years before when he'd tried unsuccessfully on Reggie Derrick, back when Terence Higgs wasn't nearly as much of swot as he was now. Even if he tried to forget, he'd been forcibly reminded by Snape when the Gryffindors first started appearing in the Slytherin common room at the start of January.

"There was some... unpleasantness the last time Neville Longbottom visited the common room," Snape had said, cornering him in the Potions classroom one day after the lesson had ended. "He, along with several other young Gryffindors, have put the experience behind them, and will be visiting us once more. If I hear of anything remotely similar to the disgraceful way you conducted yourself occurring again..." Snape trailed off, letting his words hang in the air for an excruciating amount of time before swooping in for the kill. "You've been caned once before, Mr. Flint. I won't hesitate for a second to do it again if the situation calls for it."

Marcus, torn between self-righteous fury and an equal amount of apprehension at the thought of facing that damned cane again, forced himself to stay neutral, responding only, "Yes, sir," and settling upon merely glowering at the Gryffindor visitors whenever they stopped by.

Now he stood by the exit to the dungeons, wishing he could do more than just glower, and imagining a timeline where the Dark Lord had won and traitors like Snape got what they deserved. Pushing himself away from the archway, he started toward Snape's office. Students were forbidden from entering the Potions' classroom without an adult outside of lessons, and Snape would be furious at the thought of two first years sneaking inside, unsupervised around dangerous ingredients. Marcus wasn't typically the type to blab on a fellow student, not even a Gryffindor. That was a page from Higgs' book, but if it scared the remarkably twitchy firsties away for a week or two it would be worth it.


"I just don't know where they are," Tracey complained to the rest of the first year Slytherins. She was indisputably the house champion when it came to hide and seek, but Harry and Draco were so well-hidden that she was out of her league. "We've looked everywhere!"

"Might be time to call it a day," Blaise said wearily. "Tracey, they're obviously cheating. I know you care about your winning streak, but they're probably at Hagrid's now having a laugh."

"We should go to Hagrid's," Vincent suggested, brightening at the idea. "He always makes fresh rock cakes on weekends."

"So fresh you chip three teeth instead of just two," Tracey muttered, but she considered the idea as she leaned against the wall of the abandoned classroom they'd just searched. After all, she adored Hagrid, even if his rock cakes were inedible, and they hadn't been able to visit in ages, not with him being sick. Perhaps he was feeling better. "Millicent, where did you say you last saw Draco?"

"I told you, the unused storeroom," Millicent said. "We've were just there, and he wasn't. I'll bet you five Sickles Draco's cheating, and that Longbottom and Granger found Harry. I told you, they were looking for someone, and it sounded like that someone was him. They sounded awfully upset about whatever it was they did."

"What did they do?" Tracey asked aloud, though the question was directed more at the air around them than any one person. They'd already wondered and discussed the topic at length as they searched for the two boys.

Tracey glanced at Lavender and Parvati, two recent additions to the seeking team. They'd wandered down from Gryffindor Tower in search of the Slytherin girls for a stroll around the grounds, and once Lavender was finished giggling over the fact that the Slytherins still played hide and seek, she admitted even if it was a baby game it sounded fun, and yes, she would like to join, please.

"Don't look at us," Parvati said. "We don't know what Neville and Hermione did."

"They did seem upset this morning," Lavender admitted. "But they're both so nervous that they always seem upset."

Tracey sighed. "One more look around the dungeons, then we give up?"

"'Atta girl, Tracey," Millicent said with a grin. "It's a very Slytherin attribute to know when to throw in the towel. After all, we're not Gryffindors. If we were, we'd still be searching tomorrow morning."

"Hey!" Lavender protested, shooting a glare at Millicent, then at Parvati, who had burst into reluctant giggles at the assessment.


Terence leaned against the back cushion of the low, leather sofa nearest the fire, his arm wrapped around Ellen, whose head was resting on his shoulder. The common room was near-empty, but it was their first public display of affection, and both were incredibly aware of the eyes on them.

Reggie Derrick paused as he passed, then let out a short laugh and said, "I knew it," before continuing on.

"Sure you did," Ellen called after him, grinning as she burrowed deeper into Terence's side. "You're full of it, Derrick."

"Maybe, but at least I'm not snogging that tosser," Reggie shot back with a nod at Terence, who replied in turn with a two-finger salute.

Strange as it was, he welcomed the insult, at least from Reggie. It was mostly good-natured, and more importantly, it was from Reggie. After the horrible business with Marcus behind the Quidditch changing rooms three years before, eleven-year-old Reggie Derrick had avoided both of them like the plague, too terrified to look at either even after Terence professed his sincere apologies and cleaned up his act. Time marched on, however, and Terence was silently grateful to see the change that had occurred.

Reggie lifted his hand in a two-finger salute of his own and smirked as he started toward the dorms when Gwydion appeared in a portrait of an elderly man near the stone wall entrance, who startled awake with a loud snort.

"Where is Professor Snape?" Gwydion demanded. "Has anyone seen him?"

"What?" the elderly wizard asked, slowly raising an old-fashioned hearing trumpet. "What did you say?"

"Professor Snape," Gwydion repeated, ignoring the elderly wizard next to him and addressing the room at large. "Where has he gone?"

"I'm not sure," Terence said, rising to his feet. "He wasn't in his study earlier."

"What?" the elderly wizard asked, slowly placing the opening of the hearing trumpet to his ear. "We're looking for someone?"

Gwydion frowned, then beckoned Terence closer. "You're Head Boy, aren't you?"

"Head Prefect," Terence corrected him ruefully. "For Slytherin, at least. What's the matter?"

"Someone invisible entered the passageway to the dorms very recently," Gwydion said. "They disturbed the tapestry without being seen, then shortly after they left. I suspect there's an intruder in the dungeons."

"It was probably just Mrs. Norris," Lucian Bole said from across the room, rolling his eyes. "She's so small you didn't see her from your frame."

"I can see the floor from my frame, boy!" Gwydion barked at him. "And I'd certainly notice a cat!"

"What?" the elderly wizard asked, shifting his hearing trumpet about. "There's a cat?"

"It's probably just someone mucking about with a Disillusionment Charm," Ellen said. "Terence, the sixth year just learned those a month or so ago, didn't they?"

"They still leave an outline," Terence said, meeting Gwydion's eyes and frowning. "He'd notice."

He glanced back at Ellen, who was frowning. "You said you saw-"

"A foot, yeah," Ellen said quietly. "Out of nowhere, when we were near the tapestry of Chiron. I thought I was just seeing things."

Terence's frown deepened. He knew Potter had given his cloak to Neville Longbottom for safekeeping, but what if he'd lied and he was using it to sneak about? At the same time, why would he use it to sneak in and out of a passage that wasn't forbidden in the first place? Unless Longbottom was using it, though why would he sneak into the Slytherin dorms? The boy was afraid of his own shadow.

"What?" the elderly wizard asked loudly. "What about the cat?"

"I wouldn't take it too seriously," Lucian said to Terence, ignoring the painting and shrugging. "I mean, I know you take everything seriously, but-"

"I am under strict orders to find Professor Snape if I suspect any intruder to have breached that passageway, for your own safety," Gwydion said, puffing himself up. "The students are to remain in the common room, while the portraits are to assist in my search for Professor Snape."

"What? We're searching for the cat?" the elderly wizard asked as the subjects of the portraits present readied themselves, many grumbling under their breaths but obeying all the same.

Terence frowned. He didn't think the incident was likely to be serious, but he was Head Prefect, and if there was a security risk while Snape wasn't around, he was in charge.

"Are you certain it wasn't Peeves?" he finally asked.

"Peeves," Gwydion said with a huff, "Is hardly subtle in his movements. Besides, he's too frightened-"

"-of the Bloody Baron to come down here, yeah," Terence finished for him, then sighed. Turning to the rest of the common room, he said, "It's probably nothing, but you should all stay here. I'm going to find Professor Snape."

A round of protests met this announcement, and Miles Bletchley called out, "Don't be an arse-kisser. It was probably just a draft."

"It was certainly not a draft," Gwydion blustered in reply. "You, boy-"

"What is this?" one portrait asked, having just returned to her frame from elsewhere in the dungeons and noting the commotion. "What's going on?"

"We're searching for a cat," the elderly wizard explained as Terence headed toward the common room door.


Marcus had nearly reached Snape's study when he heard the voices. He paused, glancing around the corner and seeing Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy just outside the door. Potter raised a first, rapped at it, then, when nothing happened, he lowered it and sighed.

"I just don't know where he could be," he said quietly. "He's wasn't in the common room when I looked. He's not in the Potions classroom. He's not in his study."

"Maybe the staffroom?" Malfoy asked tentatively. Both boys' voices were so low Marcus had to strain to hear them. "Or the library?"

"What if Voldemort is already back?" Potter all but whispered. "What if he's waiting for us upstairs?"

"My father said we had an hour to get to the third floor corridor," Malfoy replied, but his face was whiter than its already natural pale. He went paler as Potter spoke the Dark Lord's name. "But it's already been ten minutes."

"What do you think Voldemort will do if we don't get there in time?"

Marcus leaned against the wall, silent, and continued to listen, peeking around the corner as subtly as he could without being seen.

"Where's Dumbledore's office?" Potter asked. "We can go to him."

Malfoy shook his head, looking queasy. "No clue."

"Professor McGonagall's is just two floors up, isn't it?" Potter asked. "We should go to her for help."

Malfoy snorted. "Why would she help us?"

Potter looked at him as though he had two heads. "Because Voldemort is in the forbidden corridor right now. Why wouldn't she help us?"


Terence stood in the corridor outside the Slytherin common room, not sure what to do next. He'd just gone searching for Snape before and hadn't found him.

"While you're at it," Gwydion said as he slipped into the empty frame of the nearest portrait, halfway down the corridor. "Do you know where Harry Potter is?"

"Potter?" Terence asked, striding to the portrait. "Why?"

"Professor Snape's orders," Gwydion explained. "If an intruder is suspected in the dungeons, the portraits have been ordered to both notify Professor Snape and to guide Harry Potter to Professor Snape's study."

"Why?" Terence asked again. "Is he in danger?"

"I don't know," Gwydion replied. "I'm merely doing as instructed."

Terence frowned. He thought of how frequently he'd been told by Snape to keep an eye on Potter throughout the year. Snape often requested older students, particularly prefects, keep an eye on first years having a difficult transition, but Potter had settled in relatively easily, especially considering his fame. Aside from his illicit night wanderings, he'd adjusted well. The entire first year had. Even Draco Malfoy had become less of a brat over time.

Terence wondered if there were actual threats against Potter, ones Snape didn't tell him about. He thought of the foot Ellen had seen earlier; surely it wasn't anything more than Potter or Longbottom playing a prank? Yet he was Head Prefect, and if Snape found out he was aware of such a thing and failed to act on it, he'd be furious. Better to be overly cautious now than face Snape's wrath later.

"I'll look for them both," he told Gwydion. "If I find one, I'll tell them to meet the other outside Professor Snape's study."

"I'll do the same," Gwydion said with a nod. Despite taking his position as guard to the dorms seriously, the portrait had a reputation for being a bit of a trickster. His expression now was grave, however, and that made Terence's apprehension increase all the more.

"Do you think he's left the castle?" Terence asked before he turned to leave. "He goes to Hogsmeade on Sundays sometimes."

"Not today," Gwydion said. "He always notifies the portraits first."


"We should get moving," Draco said, staring at the closed and locked door of Professor Snape's study before turning back to Harry. "McGonagall's study is one flight up from the Entrance Hall, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest and, from the look on his face, Draco's was likely doing the same. "We should be safe. Voldemort and your dad are on the third floor. You don't know how to do a Disillusionment Charm, do you?"

"Of course not." Draco shook his head, incredulous. "We won't learn that for years."

"Worth a shot," Harry said with a sigh. "Let's go."

The two boys turned away from Snape's study and started down the corridor toward the stairs to the rest of the castle. It was a risk to leave the dungeons and put themselves closer to Voldemort, but if Professor Snape wasn't around, Professor McGonagall would be their next best bet.

Where was he? Harry had no clue. Hogsmeade, perhaps? He went there every other weekend, even when there weren't trips planned for the rest of the school, but he'd just been last week. The portraits he and Draco had passed on their way to Snape's study were empty, off doing Merlin knew what.

"Listen," Harry said quietly as they rounded the corridor corner and headed toward the staircase to the Entrance Hall, trying to ignore the ache in his scar that only seemed to grow with each passing moment. "I want to thank you. For going against your dad and helping me. It's... I'm, you know, grateful."

Draco didn't reply, instead just locking eyes with Harry and nodding. Harry nodded in return, and the two boys hurried their pace.


Hermione and Neville lingered in the Potions classroom, feeling very sorry for themselves, before finally forcing themselves back into the corridor and toward the stairs to the Entrance Hall.

"Do you think we should go to the common room and say we're sorry?" Hermione asked.

Neville shook his head. "We already said we're sorry. There's no point in doing it again, except to make ourselves feel better."

Hermione nodded, accepting this. "Do you think he'll ever forgive us?"

Neville lifted a shoulder, then lowered it. "Maybe. I don't know." He sighed. "It was his father's. If I were him..." He trailed off.

Hermione nodded, and they continued on in silence.


Terence heard Marcus Flint's voice as he grew closer to the stairs to the Entrance Hall. From further up the flight, Marcus said, "I told you, Potter, Snape is on the third floor. Dumbledore's there, too. It's chaos. The Dark Lord was there, and Dumbledore took him down with a single curse. I saw it myself."

Terence froze, moving closer as quietly as he could. He paused at the foot of stairs and listened to the conversation occurring further above.

"Are you certain?" Potter's voice carried down to Terence. "Draco's fa- We were told Voldemort is on the third floor right now, but that he's being brought back to full strength. You're certain Dumbledore fought him off?"

"I saw the body," Marcus went on. "Snape told me what happened. Dumbledore, too. Haven't you heard Dumbledore is the person the Dark Lord was most afraid of? There's a damn good reason for that."

"What do you mean you saw his body?" Draco Malfoy repeated. "He doesn't have a body yet. He's not supposed to have a body for another hour."

Terence creeped closer as Marcus said, "I don't know what happened, but he was there, and he was dead. Snape said to bring you straight to him. It's lucky I was passing by."

"I don't believe that," Terence said. The three Slytherins jumped and turned toward him.

Marcus's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for Potter. I don't know what's going on, but-"

"Haven't you heard?" Marcus said, straightening up and grabbing Potter by the arm. "The Dark Lord tried to return, in the forbidden corridor. Dumbledore was there and fought him off. Snape was about to come and fetch Potter himself, but when he saw me he sent me. Dumbledore was wounded in the fight, and Snape's healing him."

"Snape would never send another student," Terence said. The inside of his brain had gone very still, and the words coming from his mouth seemed to come from someone else. "Not for something like this. He'd go himself, and send you to find Madam Pomfrey."

"Are you calling me a liar, Higgs?" Marcus asked, eyes narrowing further. He took a step forward, not releasing his grip on Potter's arm. "Because I'm just following orders, and I'm not sure how this concerns you."

"It concerns me because I'm Head Prefect," Terence shot back. "And because I'm helping the portraits find Potter and Snape myself. There's an intruder in the castle."

Marcus looked at him as though he had three heads. "Of course there's an intruder. I just told you that the Dark Lord is here."

Terence shook his head. "This was barely ten minutes ago. Gwydion said someone invisible was in the dorms."

Malfoy looked up sharply, but he didn't elaborate further. Potter shifted slightly and murmured, "You can let go of my arm. Please."

Marcus ignored him. "All the more reason to get these firsties out of here and to Snape."

"Since when do you care so much about protecting the Boy Who Lived?" Terence asked, taking a step forward of his own. "Haven't you been babbling on about how much you want You-Know-Who to come back for the past six years?"

"I'm not stupid," Marcus hissed. "You-Know-Who's dead. I saw his body. I know which allegiances to make if I want a comfortable life."

"Let me go," Potter said quietly. When Marcus didn't respond, he repeated himself a bit more loudly. "Let me go."

"Let him go," Terence said firmly. "If you're really telling the truth, we'll go to the third floor corridor together. And we'll stop at Professor McGonagall's office on the way. Unless you're going to tell me she's waiting on the third floor too?"

"Keep your nose out of things that don't concern you, Gryffindor-lover," Marcus spat at him. "Mudblood-lover. What happened to you?"

"What happened to you?" Terence asked.

The two boys stared at one another. A slight movement at the corner of Terence's eye caught his attention; Malfoy was reaching for his wand.

"Stay put!" Marcus roared, drawing his own wand. He would have pointed it at Malfoy had Terence not drawn his own, and before either could blink the two former friends had both pointed theirs at one another.


The Slytherin first years, along with Lavender and Parvati, walked slowly back toward the common room.

"Chin up," Millicent told Tracey. "So you don't have a perfect winning streak anymore. You're still better than the rest of us."

Tracey couldn't help but smile. "Coming from you, Millie, that means a lot."

"Don't be too soppy about it," Millicent warned her. "Or I'll be sick."

"You, there!" an elderly wizard with a hearing trumpet that normally resided in the common room appeared in an empty frame nearby.

"What is it?" Theo asked, stepping toward the portrait. "Can we help you?"

"Indeed you can," the elderly wizard said, puffing himself up. "It's extremely important. Have any of you children seen a cat?"


Harry glanced back and forth between Terence and Marcus. Draco was frozen in place, his wand still in the pocket of his trousers. He'd never be able to reach it in time without being disarmed by Marcus. Harry was in a similar predicament; his wand was in his back pocket and, besides, Marcus already had a death grip on his right arm.

There was a terrible silence, then a jet of light emerged from Marcus's wand just as Terence dodged out of the way. The spell bounced around the tight quarters of the staircase; Harry felt something white-hot pass over him as he ducked. Terence shot back a silent spell of his own, but it bounced off a magical shield that Marcus produced almost instantly. It, too, bounced around the cramped area, grazing Draco's shoulder. Draco cried out as his wand flew from his hand and into Terence's.

Terence stared at the wand, and at the space around them, seeming to comprehend the secondhand danger Harry and Draco were in.

"Run," he commanded, which Harry would have done, were he not still being held in place by Marcus Flint. Draco, seeing this, didn't run either, instead hurrying forward, grabbing Harry's left arm, and tugging with all his might.

Marcus rounded on them, which gave Terence the opening he needed. Instead of casting another spell that might bounce around and hit someone else, he slipped his wand into his left hand. Marcus turned back to him just as Terence's fist connected with the side of his head, knocking him straight into the wall behind him. His grip lessened just enough for Harry to yank himself free, and for a moment he thought it was over. Marcus didn't collapse, however; he instead stumbled in place, grabbed the banister behind him and pushed himself forward, aiming the wand still in his hand at Terence.

"Cruci-"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The spell that hit Marcus Flint didn't come from Terence's wand, nor did it come from Harry or Draco's. It erupted from further down the stairs and very nearly missed him, only just grazing his hip. Just grazing his hip was enough, however, and Harry watched as the sixth year's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together, and he swayed for a moment before tipping over, flat on his face. His rigid body slowly drifted down the stairs, down to the feet of Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, the latter of whom had her wand out and appeared just as shocked as the rest of them.

"Harry?" Neville asked slowly, his own wand in his hand. "What's going on?"


Mrs. Norris wandered lazily through the dungeon corridors, heading toward the abandoned storeroom that was just the right amount of dark and small for a cat seeking a nice nap. She'd rest for a few hours, lick her fur until her full coat was shining, then perhaps make her way to the big room behind the stone wall where the children congregated in the evenings. She didn't care for anyone as much as she cared for the castle's caretaker, but she was fonder of these children than the ones who slept above-ground; the ones down here never kicked at her or called her mangy. Admittedly they could be annoying, particularly the younger ones who cooed at her and tried to tie ribbons around her neck, but the ear-scritches were wonderful, and always they knew just which treats she liked the most.

"Aha!" a portrait shouted behind her.

Mrs. Norris jumped, whirling around and growling at the elderly wizard gazing down at her.

"Don't you growl at me, feline, I've been looking for you!" the wizard said proudly. Raising his voice, he shouted to whoever might possibly hear, "I've done it! The search is over! I've found the cat!"