See the end for Author's Notes.
Chapter Six
There were two people reflected in the mirror that shouldn't be there. Harry had already cast a sensory charm that should detect basic illusions and eavesdropping spells (even if it couldn't banish them) but nothing happened. He doubted anyone would go through the trouble of casting a higher level disillusionment just to follow him around during Yule hols. There would be nothing to gain and furthermore it would be a little pathetic to go through such lengths just to stalk an eleven year old through an empty castle.
But that meant that the images were locked within the mirror itself, which wasn't very unrealistic honestly. He had heard the story about the magic mirror in Snow White. Magic mirrors weren't exactly the strangest thing he's seen since coming to Hogwarts. The staircases moved for Morgana's sake! He's seen more than a few students almost fall off the things.
He frowned at the mirror as he edged further away from it. Harry really wasn't even supposed to be here. The library had closed and curfew was within half an hour. Admittedly curfew was pushed back an hour later than it was during normal school days, but there was so much for him to catch up on that he spent a great deal of time researching. There was much to learn now that he wasn't bogged down with endless scrolls of homework. But it had been on his way to bed that he had caught sight of Professor Quirrel patrolling the corridor and immediately took another route. It wasn't that Harry was afraid of him. No proper monster would fear such a person. But he felt uneasy that the man was always trying to look into Harry's mind during class periods and didn't want to give the professor any more time to access his secrets than absolutely necessary. He had gotten the feeling he had been followed though and ended up taking a more circuitous route than he would have otherwise. Which is how Harry had ended up in this empty room with a magic mirror in it.
Nothing bad had happened yet so he figured it was probably safe to look at it. He could ask Vince if he knew what it did in a letter. The two robed figures were still there. Neither had a pronounceable aura around them. "Who are you?"
The shorter of the two knelt down on the ground and tilted their head up. It wasn't enough to see the face the hood kept in shadows, but it was enough to show that it was a woman. A woman with verdant green eyes.
Harry sucked in a harsh breath and bolted for the mirror so fast he feared for a moment that the force of him slamming into it would have it toppling over. The mirror didn't so much as rock. "Mum? Mum is that you?"
An upwards curve of the delicate mouth and a flash of white teeth. Her smile was pleasant and calming. There was a dimple in her left cheek like Harry's own smile. She had Harry's smile. It was his mother. And if this was her that would make the other robed figure- "Father! Father, it's me, it's Harry!"
Unlike the robed figure of his mother, his father's figure did not turn around. Did not face him. The questions that he had longed to ask Vince, Malfoy, and Goyle so long ago burned to the forefront of his mind and rushed out of his mouth like a torrent of water. "Do we have other family? Is it true you can speak to snakes? I can too! Do I look like you? Where are you now? I know you're not dead, Hagrid says you're not. Help me find you."
His mother's figure remained crouched. She placed her hand on his reflection's head, her fingers tangling in his curls tenderly. The lack of sensation on his end made Harry's questions choke off into a sudden sob.
He cried because Harry couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel his mother's hand and it wasn't fair. How could any of this be fair? He couldn't see his mother's face, not really. His father wouldn't even turn to look at him. Harry felt that if he could just get the Dark Lord to face him, to acknowledge him! He could show his father how worthy he was to be the son of a true monster. Harry was a monster too! "Please..." Harry whispered. "Please..."
The cloaked figure did not turn around. His mother smiled at him sadly, tears forming in her eyes as she looked from Harry to the cloaked figure he knew to be Lord Voldemort. "Mum, make him turn around. Make him listen. I'm going to save him mum. I'm going to save him!"
The reflection of the woman with his eyes turned to the cloaked figure. Her mouth moved as if she were speaking. No words reached Harry. Why would they? Neither of them were real. The cloaked figure still did not turn around.
"No!" Harry shouted in anger, in desperation, in grief.
Harry flung himself bodily away from the mirror and laid against the cold stones of the floor. The sobs that wracked his body felt like they were shaking the very foundations of the castle, but he knew that wasn't true. He choked on each breath, refused to let himself call out anymore than he already had. Refused to give the world the privilege of seeing him hurt once again.
Poor Monster Harry Potter who's monster father killed his mother and left him all alone.
Freaky Harry Potter who sensed magic and talked with snakes.
Stupid Harry Potter who's father's reflection wouldn't even look at him.
Orphan Harry Potter who didn't even know if the reflections he saw in the cursed mirror was truly what his parents looked like.
Sleeping on the cold stone floor with nothing more than a school robe for cover was stupid. Doing such a thing in the dead of a Scottish winter was the height of idiocy.
By the time Harry had finally come to, he felt like both Dudley and that stupid mountain troll had taken turns walloping him in his sleep. Absolutely everything hurt and he felt an odd mix of too hot and frigidly cold in equal measure. He felt much too miserable to even glance at the mirror once more before making the trek back to the dungeon. The blades of sunlight that pierced into his skull at every window showed that it was probably well into the day and more than appropriate for Harry to be out and about. It was the simple idea of having a bed to crash into at the end of this journey that kept him moving towards the dungeons. He'd just sleep off the worst of it then have some water and bread to mend the rest. It was how Aunt Petunia treated every illness he had ever gotten and it hadn't failed him yet. (Except that one time he had broken his arm falling out of a tree, but that didn't count.)
How he got into the common room was a bit of a mystery after all was said and done. Harry remembers he had run into one of the female ghosts because the feeling of cobwebs and ice shards that had spread across his skin had him almost hurling his last meal into a suit of armor, but everything else was a pleasant haze of unpleasantness. Next thing he knows he's being picked up off the couch and moved again. Harry would later be informed that Professor Snape had found him some undisclosed amount of time later and had carried him the entire way to the hospital wing in the clock tower. He also learned that there were some illnesses too severe to be treated by a quick potion or spell.
"What exactly were you doing that you ended up this sick Mister Potter?"
Harry mumbled something only for the breath to get caught in his throat and start a series of increasingly violent coughs. The coughing was something that Madame Pomfrey could do nothing about. Muggles had invented cough syrup, but apparently the magical equivalent was something of a muscle relaxant that did more to numb the entire body than simply the throat area. "Perhaps it would be prudent to heal the boy before you interrogate him Poppy."
Harry didn't quite hear what the mediwitch said in response, but figured the Professor had won that argument because the next thing he knew it was once again night time and the Professor sat in a chair next to him reading. (He must've fallen asleep.) He stared at the man for quite some time in silence.
Harry hadn't wanted to tell Madame Pomfrey, but it was probably okay to tell his head of house. The man had never been cruel to him, although he wasn't exactly kind either. Truthfully, he treated Harry like an adult and maybe the other professors could take after such a thing. "There's a mirror in an abandoned classroom on the fifth floor."
Professor Snape glanced up from the book he had been perusing, but remained silent. His unobtrusive presence made Harry feel more comfortable with telling the man what had happened. It felt like Harry's choice whether to tell the man or not. He had had very few of them in his life. "It had funny writing on the top... in the reflection, I saw-I saw my mother..."
There wasn't any noticeable shift or a new sound,- the man had always been one of those to hide his magical aura- but Harry could feel the impact his confession had on the potions master just the same. "But it wasn't really her," Harry informed him. "She wasn't really there. It's just a magic mirror."
Harry thought he had the right of things as far as that ruddy mirror was concerned. It was charmed to show Harry what he wanted most, his mother and father. But since Harry didn't know what they looked like and would never deign to imagine too grandly lest he comes up with a woman who looks similar to Aunt Petunia, the mirror had shown them cloaked. If Harry had imagined them growing up he would probably have had images of some sort, but he had no desire to imagine his dead parents while at the Dursleys. And he was too old now to carelessly fantasize about them.
"I am familiar with the mirror you speak of."
The Professor's voice broke Harry out of his inner musings enough to return to the present. Moonlight danced across the outline of the man. Severus Snape wasn't classically handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but he was rather striking all the same. With poreless pale skin, and inky black hair, he looked like a vampire prince highlighted by the moon's beams.
It suited him.
"I will talk with the Headmaster about having it removed."
"No!" Harry lurched up out of the bed only to bend over coughing."P-pl-ee-ease... ple-ease don't..." he choked out between coughs.
Professor Snape waited for his coughing to get back under control before he spoke again. "That mirror is a web of lies Mister Pot-Harry. It shows you nothing more than what you want most dearly in the world. Not the future, not the past. Neither a truth nor a lie."
Harry shook his head in denial. He didn't care that it wasn't real. Of course it wasn't real! It was a magic mirror. "I've never seen my mother before. Neither of them. What if that was the only chance I will ever have to see her? What if I never know what my mother looks like?"
He forced the words out around the lump in his throat. If the Professor was going to have it moved, Harry needed to go see again. He needed to try to see her full face, if nothing else. He wouldn't imagine it, but maybe magic could recreate her the way she was. He would see his father eventually, but the woman who had given birth to him would remain clouded in shadows if he didn't- "I will show you."
Harry's head snapped up in surprise. "You?" he whispered incredulously. He had done enough research to recognize that his mother had not only been a Muggleborn, but also in Gryffindor house. She would be the antithesis to any Slytherin, especially those who might have attended school during his father's reign. "But no one remembers my mum. She was... she was just Lily."
Perhaps something he had said was of great importance to the potions master because his face softened around the edges. His scowl wasn't so deep and his gaze not so narrowed. Like a weight of tension had been lifted from the man. "Lily Evans was a star brought down from the heavens. The world lost something terribly precious the night she died."
Harry's gaze widened. A star? Was such a thing even real? Monsters and goblins and elves, sure. But a star? Is that why a Dark Lord would choose to sire an heir from someone that should have arguably been beneath his notice? "Was she really?"
Professor Snape's gaze held an intensity Harry had only seen when someone asked an especially clever question about a potion. It was a passion that the man rarely carried outside of his subject of mastery. "Your mother was brilliant."
Harry grinned. "Awesome."
Harry learned quite a bit about his mother as a child the next three days. Only three because the other students returned on the fourth day. His mother was always smiling in the memories that the Professor shared, always laughing. Harry found it was impossible to look away and in fact he felt panic strike through him like lightning each time he had to blink. This was the first time he had ever truly seen his mother and he understood just how much the normally laconic man was giving away by sharing them with Harry. This was a treasure beyond measure.
The images were a little less than the portraits that lined the halls of Hogwarts, but were infinitely more than mere pictures. It was like a clip of a movie. Or memory; that was more likely seeing as the professor had been the one to give him the book. His mother told him about the flowers that grew around the Black Lake and on her favorite hill at home. She scolded him for spending all of his free time in the library and threw hexes at other kids who bullied him. She was a Gryffindor, but didn't care at all for house stereotypes and said as such to a cluster of her own housemates that went unnamed.
As the professor had said, his mom was brilliant. Brilliant and beautiful and kind. And considering her taste in men, drawn to power. Harry wondered if it was her kind heart that ultimately led her to flee his father and seek asylum with James Potter? It might make sense, honestly, especially now that Harry had a pretty good idea about the Dark Lord's campaign on a time scale. It wasn't until around the time Harry was born that his father seemed to... lose the plot, so to speak. The Death Eaters became more aggressive, more violent, more bloodthirsty. Anyone and everyone who didn't agree with his father ended up targeted or killed. Often both. (Harry wondered if his mother left because father had crossed that line or if his mother leaving had pushed the Dark Lord over the edge?)
"How was your Yuletide?" Crabbe asked when he arrived to the 'welcome back feast'.
Harry grinned before he recalled such an expression of unrestrained joy was improper for a Slytherin. He managed to reign it down to a smile and answered in as simple a fashion as well. "Well, thank you."
Vince stared at him for several pointed seconds before he nodded. "That is good to hear."
Harry was more than a little pleased to not be receiving an immediate reprimand upon the older boy's return. Ever since Miss Greengrass had taken it upon herself to supplement his pureblood education, Vincent had been more strict in his own lessons. The result was Harry not only improved in leaps and bounds but now also had a healthy tolerance to stinging hexes. He barely even flinched anymore when the boy sent one at him as punishment.
Unlike Harry's improvement in the political entity that was Slytherin house, he was no closer to answering the questions that had cropped up now that he had pictures- memories- of his mother. He wanted to ask Professor Snape's opinion, but the man had made it inescapably clear that the start of term concluded their bonding over memories of his mother. Harry understood and thought it was a really good deal in his favor.
But that didn't mean the man was apathetic either.
"Well done," Professor Snape nodded at Harry's finished potion.
Harry tried to keep from beaming as brightly as the first time the man had given him such positive feedback, but it was a near thing. Draco grumbled mutinously under his breath, but kept all other comments to himself. "The Professor is being awfully nice to you this term," Vince pointed out
"I've studied hard for his class and it shows in my brewing," Harry said.
It wasn't a lie. It was merely an observation of Harry's improved potion skills. And if these improvements came from Harry's desire to perhaps strike another deal with the man about his mother, then that was really none of Vincent's business. Probably.
Harry carried the photo album everywhere with him in his bag and didn't miss a private moment to take it out and stare at his mother's smile. When he was entrenched in the world of his mother's childhood nothing else mattered. Which is probably how Granger sneaks up on him. "She's pretty."
Harry hunched over in a strange fit and crawled several feet away before he turned to glare at the intruder. Granger's confused face stared back at him. "What you go and do that for?" she asked.
Harry scowled at the girl and hurriedly put away his mother's album. It was for his eyes only and someone had seen it. And not just someone, but Hermione Granger. If Vincent or Morgana forbid Malfoy found out about this they would be completely intolerable for days. "Isn't lurking about a bit beneath you Granger?"
"I wasn't lurking," she sniffed pointedly, "I was researching. Professor Snape has been trying to get Professor Quirrell's help in getting past that three headed dog in the blocked corridor."
Harry's scowl deepened. "I thought you'd stopped these fantastic stories about my head of house."
"It's not just a story. I overheard Professor Quirrell arguing with him two days ago. He's had him searching for something in the forbidden forest. I've talked to the groundskeeper and he says that there's been something killing unicorns."
Harry stopped rummaging in his bag at that. To kill a unicorn would be an unthinkable taboo that one wouldn't commit lightly. The creatures were of the purest of Life magic and it would place a terrible curse onto the murderer. Only someone truly desperate would do such a thing. Someone like his father. Harry's gaze snapped to the Gryffindor's earnest expression.
Granger wasn't a fool, for all of her nosiness. If she overheard Professor Snape sending the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor into a forest where unicorns were being slain- where surely only the Dark Lord could be responsible for such acts- after having tried to sneak into the third floor corridor the month before... "Are you sure it was the professor?"
"There's no one else that makes Professor Quirrell so nervous. His stutter always gets worse around Professor Snape, you know. I've noticed it several times now."
Harry frowned. If the man was really trying to retrieve whatever was being kept in the third floor corridor it was probably to aid his father. Had the professor been a Death Eater perhaps? And how would he have gotten in contact with his father in the first place? Did he know that Harry was his son, was that why he was being so... kind? (Harry thought a good part of his kindness must also be in part due to his mother.) All of these thoughts though left very little room in his head for consideration. He needed time to think. "Thank you Granger," Harry nodded once in acknowledgement and then went on his way.
There was the characteristic huff of indignation the girl always seemed to give after speaking with him before she too walked off. Harry wondered if she was always so upset after speaking to him why did she continue to do so? He thought there was a saying about that. Insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting a different outcome or some such rot. Harry didn't right remember, but knew Daphne would probably know. She might even be the person he had heard the saying from originally.
And now that he was thinking of it, he could probably use her help to at least organize his thoughts a bit better. Both Daphne and Prefect Dodderidge had said they were accomplished occlumens, which was a sort of meditative technique. It allowed them to have better memory and recall, but ultimately a skilled occlumens would be able to develop a shield to protect their mind from outside penetration. Most occlumens students didn't learn anything more than the meditative technique to improve memory, but it was expected of every scion of an influential house to learn at least the basic shield.
Harry had yet to make the time to begin reading the book Prefect Dodderidge had allowed him to borrow, but he knew that it needed to be a priority soon. As if the thoughts served as a summoning charm Daphne's voice broke his thoughts. "You shouldn't frown so, mon petit chou. We do not want premature wrinkles in your lovely face."
This had the effect of turning Harry's scowl on Daphne. She had only giggled when he asked what 'petty shoe' meant and Draco had refused to translate when he discovered it was Daphne who had given him the nickname. "Scowling does not make your face any less lovely," she scolded.
Harry sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."
He turned to fall into step beside her and took the books she carried in her hand as was proper. "Where are you coming from?" he asked.
"I was in the library. Fred and George were up to their usual antics and it ended up being a tad too exciting for a transfiguration essay."
Harry followed her in silent disbelief. "Fred and George Weasley?"
"The very same."
"But... but they're blood traitors. Why would you interact with anyone from that family?"
The gaze she shot at him was sharp and cutting. Harry flinched back under the might of her stare and the sudden stillness of her aura. "I consider both of them to be my friends and do not take your slander against their good name well. If I knew you any less I would be insulted."
Harry quickly backtracked in horror. He hadn't- he just thought- "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
Daphne cut him off. "I know." They continued down the corridor towards the common room for a moment in silence before she sighed. "You're a sweet boy, Harry Potter. But you're rather stupid."
Harry flushed, but couldn't say that she was wrong. "Just so you know, the Weasley's aren't blood traitors. That title should be reserved for pureblood wizards whom disavow our ways and escape to the Muggle world. Their only crime against our way of life is their disregard for the pomp and circumstance common to a household of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Now they are Light Wizards, but the vast majority of their house knows what that truly means and practices it properly. Ronald Weasley is not an example of this. Furthermore, the blood feud that is going strong between the Weasleys and the Malfoys is hundreds of years old and hails back to the beginning of the Statute of Secrecy. I doubt any of the current generation of either house knows why exactly they're fighting anymore, which makes it all the more ridiculous."
He couldn't help but be amazed and a little intimidated by the blonde heiress. Daphne Greengrass was a proper pureblood lady, even at thirteen, and had a presence that surrounded her at all times.
"There's so much I don't understand. And it seems like the more I learn the less I know." Harry put his head in his hands with a groan. "Why is everything so complicated?"
Daphne's chuckle was like a trickle of music skipping across a piano. Lovely and lilting and ringing out into the common room as they entered. "That's because you're not thinking like a true Slytherin. Gryffindors gather the well published author and disregards how reputable the source. We find the masters of their fields then strive to prove them wrong."
Harry thought that was a rather exhausting outlook to have on all information one received and said as much. "Yes, well," Daphne let out another lilting laugh. She really was very pretty. "It starts paying off when you find one specific source you can never disprove. Then you branch out from there."
Harry frowned. "How can you tell when you find a good source?"
"Well for starters you find someone who has nothing to gain from lying to you. An independent third-party so to speak."
Someone who has nothing to gain from lying to him...
This is how Harry ended up at Hagrids that very afternoon having an impromptu tea meeting with the giant of a man. "How's yer classes been treating ya?" Hagrid asked after he had refilled Harry's teacup for the second time.
"Very well, thank you Hagrid."
Harry had learned rather quickly his first time here for tea to leave the rock cakes soaking in the tea indefinitely if he hoped to nibble on the brick (and he had to if he expected to get away with grilling Hagrid for more information).
"I remember my first year like it was only yesterday. Mind, it's been quite a bit longer than that," Hagrid grinned at his own joke.
Harry chuckled at the sight of Hagrid's beard crinkling up enough to show a sliver of teeth. He was probably the nicest adult he had met besides Professor Snape. It was better with Hagrid only because the giant had no particular reason to be nice to him. Hagrid wasn't his professor nor his head of house. The giant was nice because that's just how he was. It was probably what Harry liked most about him. The simplicity in their relationship. "Say Hagrid," Harry began, finally taking a bite out of the rock cake. It was still solid. "I found something rather curious the other day."
"Oh?"
Harry returned the cake into his tea. If a few more minutes did not good he would just feed the rock to Fang. "Yes. I thought I had heard an animal locked in a room, but when I got there it was a cerberus."
Hagrid inhaled the sip of tea he had just taken and began coughing uncontrollably. 'Honestly,' thought Harry, 'I've hardly begun my questioning and he's already giving up everything.'
"How'd you find out about Fluffy?"
It was this time for Harry to be surprised. "Fluffy? You mean that thing has a name."
"O' course he does. He's mine ain't he? Besides, everyone's got a name. I loaned 'im to Dumbledore to protect the stone."
Hagrid's eyes widened and Harry zoned in like a bloodhound after a fox. "A stone? So there is something hidden away in the third floor corridor? It was that same grubby package that you took from Gringotts that day, wasn't it? Someone tried to steal it you know. They might have been in the bank at the same time as we were."
"I should not 'av said that," Hagrid grumbled under his breath as he came to a stand.
"What kind of stone is worth all of this? And what can a dog do that a Gringotts vault cannot?"
"Now ya listen to me. It's none of yer business what Fluffy's guarding. That there's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel."
This time Harry couldn't resist his smile of victory. Hagrid, in contrast, looked angry with himself. "I shouldn't 'av said that," he repeated to himself.
"That's alright Hagrid," Harry encouraged his friend. "I won't let anyone know you told me." While he did want to know what was so important that could possibly entice Professor Snape to potentially lose his job, he didn't want to ruin his friendship with the giant of a man to do so.
Hagrid looked only slightly mollified and even after Harry had waved goodbye the man looked glum.
For his part Harry went straight to Vincent and Draco (feeling only a little bad about his lie to Hagrid). The two were playing a game of wizard's chess in the common room, but it was still early enough that most everyone else were out somewhere else enjoying the good weather.
It was Draco, surprisingly enough, that not only knew who Nicolas Flamel was, but had a bit of an idea on what 'stone' was being guarded by Fluffy. "The elixir of life?" Vincent asked.
"It's a potion that makes the drinker immortal. You can only make it if you use a philosopher's stone, but there are probably several other ingredients involved."
Harry, only had one thought running through his head. As soon as Draco had spoken of the abilities of the philosopher's stone his mind had been made up. "We have to get it."
The two boys looked at him in different levels of surprise. "What?" Draco was the first to recover, which wasn't all that surprising considering how much he loved to hear himself speak. "What do you mean we have to get it?"
"For the Dark Lord," Harry explained. For his father.
Draco scoffed and crossed his arms in complete refusal. He had met Harry's insistence that he hadn't really killed the Dark Lord that Samhain night with complete and utter skepticism. The blond had reasoned that if the Dark Lord hadn't been killed his father would certainly know of it. Harry had had a few thoughts concerning the Malfoy patriarch that brought the man's intelligence into question. Harry didn't doubt the man had cunning to spare. But some level of common sense should have been used when Harry's father had disappeared. Vincent, as always, was the voice of reason. "You said that Granger thinks Professor Snape was trying to get the stone. Do you still think that he could be involved? If so, it will be that much more difficult for us."
Harry was conflicted. The man had honestly been nothing but kind to him. He wasn't warm and cuddly, but he was the Slytherin head of house, it was to be expected. He cared in his own way. But some of the things that Granger and then Hagrid had said weren't adding up. Why would Professor Snape be even going into Fluffy's room? And for what purpose?
"I don't see any gain for him. He has to know already what the dog is guarding."
"Yes, but I doubt the Headmaster left it to the groundskeeper alone to protect something that had almost been stolen from Gringotts. There are probably several teachers involved which means multiple protections," Draco drawled.
He had taken the accusation of their potion's master the worst out of all of them. Not that any of them thought it was likely in the first place. Harry just recognized that Granger wasn't an idiot and he had seen the Professor's limp himself that first week of November. It occurred to Harry that he might want to stop trying to alienate Malfoy so often if he wanted to maintain some semblance of an accord with him. Between Harry's aversion for his father, assurances of the Dark Lords inevitable return, and now accusations of the boy's godfather... "You're right," Harry quickly agreed, deciding that it was better to start doing damage control sooner rather than later. "It would make no sense."
But it was the only lead they had.
"If you plan to retrieve whatever's being guarded by that dog we'll need a way to get past it," Vincent said. "We haven't had Care of Magical Creatures but I doubt it is something covered in the basic classes."
"And we're not going to anyone for help," Malfoy immediately insisted. "All it will take is one loose tongued idiot to tip off the professors that someone's been down that corridor."
Harry frowned. They could probably scour the library for a book. He didn't want to try his luck again with Hagrid so soon after the man had revealed what Fluffy had been guarding in the first place.
"There's bound to be a book in the library about getting past a cerberus."
"Are you talking about Orpheus and Eurydice?"
Vincent and Draco remained cool and collected, but Harry jumped like he had been caught casting an Unforgivable. Prefect Dodderidge arched a questioning eyebrow at him as she plopped down in the seat next to him. Harry glanced from Vincent to Malfoy and decided he would have to play the part of the uncultured idiot. "Who?"
"Orpheus and Eurydice. It's a myth about a guy who was so distraught upon his wife's passing that the music he played entranced all in the Underworld who heard it including Hades. The god agreed to allow his wife's spirit return to the plane of the living with him if he would walk back out of the Underworld without looking behind him. Of course the idiot got right to the gate back to the world of the living only to turn around, but I figure that was because he was a bard. Not the brightest bunch, historically speaking."
Harry waited for the part where she explained how this involved Fluffy, but the prefect seemed done. "Oh!" Draco lurched forward as if shocked. "There was a cerberus used to guard the entrance to the Underworld!"
Harry still didn't get it. He looked to Vincent, but the other simply shrugged and pointedly stared at Draco. For his part Malfoy rolled his eyes. "That means playing music would calm it down. I'd forgotten that most of that mythos was initially used as parables."
That was news to Harry. But now that he thought about it, there might be a lot of misplaced history in the tales of gods and goddesses that simply had to do with a muggle discovering something they weren't supposed to. "Like a lullaby?"
She shrugged. "Sounds about right. I can't imagine Orpheus played 'Living in Sin' for his dearly departed."
It was Harry's turn to understand a reference that the other two purebloods didn't. Prefect Dodderidge was a pureblood like most of the rest of Slytherin house, but had claimed to have extended half-blood cousins that occasionally liked to smuggle muggle things to their family gatherings. She claimed to be particularly fond of Bon Jovi, an American rock band with a few muggleborns in their group "How did you lot get on the subject of bedtime stories anyway?"
"Vincent and Draco were telling me about some things muggles have stories about that actually exist. Like dragons, goblins, and centaurs," Harry said without hesitation.
He wasn't the worst liar in the world, but Vince had warned that he was prone to fidgeting when nervous. All this did was make Harry more aware of each shift he made on the sofa. The result was he held himself like a suit of armor to compensate. The fifth year undoubtedly knew this, but allowed him his secrets all the same. "Have fun with that, firsties. Have any of you seen my cousin? It has been too long since I last terrorized him and I have to keep him on his toes."
"Nott went to the library with Boot and Abbott."
She popped up out of her seat. "Oh he's with girls is he? Now I simply have to greet him."
And with that she strode out of the common room without even bothering to question the three of them further. Harry grinned. Malfoy scowled. "If I had been up to anything by myself that woman would have had it out for me," he whined.
"Prefect Dodderidge likes me best," Harry preened.
"Just to be on the safe side," Vincent interrupted what was sure to be a Malfoy tantrum the likes of which Harry hadn't seen in months, "we should try to go tonight. There's not much time left in the school year and exams are next week besides. That way we have Sunday to try again in case there's something we can't get past."
All three agreed and had no more discussion about their potential theft of a priceless artifact from the school. The way Harry had it figured, the others were mostly doing it because even the most cunning Slytherin loved a good adventure. (Of course they weren't going to tell the Gryffindors that. Draco said they might try to bond and had shuddered as if there was no worse thing he could dream of.) Thanks to Vincent's knowledge of the prefect routes from here to the third floor (highly suspect, but Harry hadn't questioned him about how exactly he had come into that knowledge), they made it to the door that Fluffy hid behind without any problems.
Draco had cast a charm that created a floating orb that glowed a soft blue light and played a lilting lullaby. Vincent raised an eyebrow in question but the sneer (paired with his flushed cheeks) made it obvious that they were not allowed to ask. Within moments Fluffy was asleep. "Huh," Harry said as he helped Vincent push his humongous paw out of the way, "I didn't really think that would work..."
"Shows what you know," Malfoy tilted his chin up.
Again Harry got the urge to tell him that all that did was make it easier to see up his stupid nose. "Come on Harry," Vincent nudged him forward, "Down the hatch."
He wanted to ask why he had to go down the dark hole first when it was likely to lead them into a horrible trap set by a professor. But the answer was obvious. It had been his decision to steal the stone. It was his responsibility to lead the way.
"Ugh," Harry sighed before he took the plummet feet first.
It felt remarkably like that one time he fell out a tree trying to hide from Dudley and his friends. Only it was rather dark. And the ground was... squishy. "What is this?!" Draco sounded a few moments from a panic attack.
"Relax," Vince's voice cut through the sudden sliding sound of movement coming from all around them. "This is devil's snare. This must be Professor Sprout's protection."
Harry sat up only to discover his legs were tied. "Isn't that the plant that strangles everything that gets caught in it?"
"What?!" Malfoy squaked. "It's got me! Potter this is all your fault!"
"My fault? You and Vincent had plenty of time to-Vince!?"
The other boy had been completely overrun by the vines and disappeared into the bowels of the monster vines. "We're going to die here!" Draco wailed.
"Not if you two just relax," came Vincent's disjointed voice.
"Vince!"
"Crabbe! Where are you?"
"Beneath you." He sounded surprisingly calm for someone potentially watching his two allies being crushed by living plants. "The devil's snare leads into another corridor. If you relax your body it will think it's already killed you and let you fall down. It's not much of a drop either."
When the three of them were finally reunited beneath the devil's snare, Draco was threatening to light the plant aflame and Harry was a bit less confident about their chances to retrieve the stone for his father. Vincent didn't agree. "You honestly think this is worse than what could have possibly been protecting it in Gringotts? Vault 713 wasn't very deep, but it was no easy feat for someone to get that deep without a goblin escort. In comparison a cerberus and devil's snare is nothing."
"He's right you know," Malfoy said after he had finished a flurry of grooming charms to straighten his robes and hair. "A stunning spell and a fire spell would have been more than enough for both of those if you didn't know the tricks. It's rather juvenile honestly."
"It's almost like the Headmaster wants the stone to be stolen," Harry muttered to himself.
Vincent turned to look at him in contemplative silence. Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking but it was a moot point when they entered the next room. "Are those birds?" Draco whispered.
"Keys," Vincent said. "Probably to the door across the way."
In the center of the room were a set of brooms. "Draco," Harry gestured towards the floating brooms. "You've always bragged during lessons that you're a shoe in for our house team next year. Go on. Find the key."
The blond scowled. "There have to be hundreds of keys up there, how am I supposed to find which one it is?"
"You're looking for an old skeleton key. Brass," Vincent called from by the door where he was crouched. "Most of those look to be silver."
Harry grinned at his ally. "It will be good practice for the Seeker position."
"But I want to be a chaser," Draco grumbled as he took off his school robes and threw them at Harry's still grinning face.
Harry was grinning a whole lot less when as soon as Draco rose in the air the keys swarmed and started diving straight at him. "Draco run!" he shouted.
"Good idea Potter," he snapped back as he bobbed in between the columns. "I'll just jump off the ruddy broom!"
"Look for the key," Vince added his two knuts.
"I hate you both!"
He expressed how much in graphic detail once they were finally on the other side of the door. Vincent and Harry only smiled wider. "I hope you're ready Harry," Draco snapped as he strutted forward. "It's your turn to solve the professor's mystery quest."
Harry rolled his eyes, but knew Draco was right. As everything stood Draco had solved two and Vincent one. It was about time Harry pulled his weight in this quest. It only stood to reason that of course they would then step onto a giant chessboard. "Damn," Harry hissed.
He was absolute pants at wizard's chess. Draco scowled the entire time he was directing the pieces. He put himself in the place of the queen ("I'm not getting one more bruise on this stupid trip!" he had whined when Vincent and Harry had looked at him consideringly.) Vince and Harry had been rooks.
Draco had wiped the board with the other side. "I bet that was Professor McGonogall's," Vince said as they ran across the board as the broken pieces were dragged to the graveyard at the corner of the room. "That woman is brilliant."
Draco sniffed, but it was obvious he agreed. Not that he would ever voice a compliment to a Gryffindor aloud. Even if it was a professor. "I swear if this isn't something for Harry I'm claiming his place in hierarchy. I'm pulling all the weight."
Vincent shrugged. As it so happened Harry was brilliant at potions and not too bad at logic. Daphne absolutely loved riddles. They each took a small sip of the potion so there would be enough for the way back. It would be just their luck to be stuck after they got the stone and be caught red-handed. (Harry would later snicker at the thought considering the stone was in fact blood red.)
No one laughed when they saw the slumbering troll in the next room. "Why'd they keep this thing?" Malfoy hissed between clenched teeth as they edged carefully around.
Neither Vincent nor Harry wanted to risk awakening the creature to answer so they continued their cautious shuffle along the edge of the room. Harry thanked Merlin, Morganna, and all the olde gods that the thing remained asleep. "Please tell me there isn't some astronomy quiz next," Harry whispered even after they had left the troll behind. "I'd hate to see how one would weaponize the stars."
"What about an armed goblin for History of Magic?" Vince offered.
Malfoy groaned. "You two can fight the next two by yourselves. I've done most of the challenges and deserve the respite."
But it wasn't a goblin or a weaponized telescope. "It's a mirror."
The three of them had entered the last antechamber with no sight of another corridor. This was the end. "Where's the stone?" Draco hadn't exactly whined the question, but his voice was a bit higher.
Harry stepped forward, gazing at the words on the top. He knew this mirror. "Maybe we took a wrong turn," Vince said. "We can see if there is another door in the corridor."
Harry remained silent. Professor Snape said the mirror had been removed. Harry had assumed that meant it was taken away from the school, but here it was as unassuming as the first time he had stumbled upon it. "Harry, come on," Draco hissed.
His gaze did not move away from the Mirror of Erised. "I show not your face but your heart's desire..."
There was a tug on his arm then Vincent's voice. "What are you on about?"
"I know this mirror. I found it during Yule hols. It shows what you want the most."
"Then ask it where the stone is so we can get out of here. This potion doesn't last that long."
Harry nodded his head, but could not help but look to the two figures that appeared in the glass. There was his father still in the foreground and turned away. He moved his gaze away from the fully cloaked figure of his father. Harry could see his mother now, but had no memories of his father to draw from. Even if the Dark Lord turned around how likely was it that it would actually be his father's image? It's not like he would know the difference anyway. A flash of movement in the corner of the mirror had the three of them turning around.
But it wasn't Professor Snape. It was Professor Quirrell.
Harry felt such overwhelming relief at this reveal that he momentarily forgot the seriousness of the situation they were in. "You're not Professor Snape..."
"Snape," the man sneered without stuttering. "Yes, he does seem like the sort doesn't he?"
"Ha!" Draco shouted as he pointed a finger in Harry's direction. "I told you it couldn't be him."
Vincent stared at him incredulously. "You want to have this argument now?"
"Oh. Well of course not. I just wanted it to be noted that I was right."
"Noted," Harry said, not taking his eyes off of Professor Quirrell.
There was something especially strange about the man presently. Admittedly Harry had never much cared for their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher so he might be projecting, but the man seemed creepier than usual. It was something to do with his eyes. They were sharp, almost predatorial. The man's mouth lifted into a cruel smile. "You shouldn't be too hard on yourself boy. What with all the skulking about he does, Severus does seem the likely choice. After all who in their right mind would expect p-p-poor Profes-prof-professor Qu-quirrell..." The smile turned into a leer.
"Our mistake Professor," Vincent began pushing him and Draco to the side of the room, "We just wanted to see what was in the forbidden corridor, but it turned out to be nothing but a stupid mirror. We best be going before Professor Snape has our hides."
Gathering the general idea Draco and Harry started hurrying for the stairs, but fire sprung up circling the room and blocked their every exit. Harry turned to see Professor Quirrell's wand pointed at them. "Not so fast. I'll be needing your help."
Harry's stomach plummeted.
What happened next was nine of the worst minutes of Harry's rather short life and ended with Draco's arm broken, Vincent badly burned, and Harry killing a professor with his bare hands. By the time the three had run into Professor Snape and the Headmaster in the giant chess game room they had decided to not speak of it again. Of course, that was a moot point when their Head of House asked Draco about the events that had transpired. True to form, even in pain and dirty Draco Malfoy could spin a tale like no one else. He managed to talk them all the way up to the hospital at which point the Headmaster excused himself (hopefully not to alert the Aurors that Harry had killed a professor) and they were left alone with Professor Snape.
This was hardly an improvement as the man stewed so angrily in silence as they were being treated that Harry was sure he could see the storm clouds brewing over his head. By Vincent's and Draco's wide-eyes and hunched shoulders they too saw their impending doom. ('Or,' Harry thought with no real hope, 'Maybe their pain potions haven't started working yet.')
It wasn't until Madame Pomfrey finished tending to them and vanished into her office that the man started in on them. But by then Harry's shoulders had hunched so far up that his ears were muffled considerably from any impending shouting to occur.
The professor did not raise his voice. He didn't need to. "Nothing," Professor Snape hissed, "Nothing gives you the right to stalk around the halls, to deliberately disobey the rules placed for your own safety and risk the lives of your classmates."
Draco and Vincent flinched back, but Harry remained motionless in the hospital bed. The Dursley's had spoken often to him as if he was at fault for everything wrong with the world. Yet the Professor seemed to be worried mostly about his safety and that of Vince and Draco, who he had put in danger in hopes of retrieving the Philosopher's Stone to gain his father's favor. Harry saw now that it had really been a foolhardy plan and doomed to fail (but only because Professor Quirrel had gone crazy and had spoiled everything).
The potions master didn't seem satisfied with Harry's accepting silence and turned sharply to storm away. "I will be taking 150 points from Slytherin for this transgression."
"But professor!' Draco wailed, "We'll lose the House C-"
"Fifty points," he continued without a care for Draco's complaint, "For each life you endangered with your Gryffindor brashness and foolish lack of forethought. I would place you in detention for the rest of the term, but I don't want to see your face until September. Do I make myself clear, Potter?"
At that, Harry did flinch. He hated that last name. Especially when it was said with that acerbic disdain the way the Professor and the Dursleys were so good at. "Yes sir," Harry whispered.
The man took large strides out of the room and closed the infirmary doors behind him with a sharp wave his wand. Harry flinched again at the boom the doors made. He felt abysmal. Professor Snape had been furious. Somehow Harry was sure the man had been greatly disappointed in his actions this night and would not be quick to forgive or forget.
He might even hold a grudge.
Draco was working himself into a right state on the cot next to Harry. "This will be the first time in seven years Slytherin hasn't won the House Cup and it will be all our faults. Flint's going to kill us!"
Vince's answering groan summed up the three Slytherin's moods very effectively.
A/N: Please accept my sincere apologies about this late update. It didn't occur to me until the next day that I had not updated on Monday as scheduled despite having been working on future chapters non-stop all weekend. This chapter in particular initially concerned me with how I was going to fit so much time in one chapter. It worked out rather well by adding a paragraph here and there allowing me to be able to span six months in twenty pages give or take. There was quite a bit set up to get to the Philosopher's Stone debacle (and Harry wasn't even really concerned about it at first until Hermione reminded him again of her suspicions) but we got there in the end. Snape, of course, was angry. You'll see quite a bit more of that in the next four or so chapters because both of them are idiots that like to add fuel to the fire rather than come to some sort of understanding. The next chapter was very long so was cut into parts but that did not save chapter eight from being longer still. There is a ton of filler, I'm afraid, in chapter seven but more development of Harry's relationships with the Slytherins and we see him come into his own as Heir to a pureblood house thanks to Narcissa Malfoy's tutelage. (I've always adored Narcissa no matter how brief our interaction with her in canon was. That woman was a true Slytherin, let no one say otherwise.)
I apologize again about the late update. This chapter had already been written and was ready to post I had simply lost my mind. But next week will be on time. I will set an alarm!
À bientôt!
Updated: January 2021