CHAPTER 36: PARTNERS IN CRIME

Quirrell lay forgotten in the near-empty great hall. Not even Madame Pomfrey had bothered with him as she'd sped after the other teachers. Under normal circumstances, he would be feeling quite miffed about it, but as it was, it was the perfect circumstance for executing the next part of his plan.

Opening his eyes, and glancing this way and that, he slithered his way to a statue of a rotund cherub eating an apple and tickled its feet. With nary a sound, it split straight down the middle to reveal a narrow, dank, dark passageway. Being the snake he was, he had no qualms slithering down its twists and turns, only to be miraculously deposited on the third floor corridor.

Silently thanking the castle for making no sense whatsoever, he nearly stepped out of the shadows when he heard heavy footsteps coming towards him at great speed. Cursing his luck, he briefly contemplated murder before hastily casting an unlocking charm on a nearby door and hiding behind it. Then he disillusioned himself and cast a series of hiding charms for good measure.

Damn! He'd been so sure this would work! All the teachers were supposed to out hunting the troll and he, Quirrel, along with some help from his all-powerful master would easily breeze through whatever protection old man Dumbledore and his cronies had set up. But now, unforeseen complications were arising. Perhaps it was just a lost student or something... he put his eye to the keyhole.

Tough luck. It was Snape, billowing up the corridor in all his black-robed glory. What was the muggle term for it...ah, yes. Very gothic. Quirrel snarled. He wasn't sure if he could take Snape down without a good amount of time and effort, and without drawing attention to himself to boot. Damn it all! But wait... if memory served, wasn't Snape supposed to be...

He heard his master whisper in his ear, never a pleasant sensation. "Be still. Let us see what he does."


Snape rushed up the stairs to the third-floor corridors, his paranoia at full blast and senses at maximum vigilance. A troll in the castle, right when it was hosting that damned artifact too! Under normal circumstances, dangerous beasties about could be dismissed as the usual dismal state of security at Hogwarts, but this coincidence smelled far too convenient for Snape's comfort.

Reaching the corridor, his wand out, his eyes darted to and fro, trying to discern anything that might be out of place. Was it just him or were there too many dust motes hanging in the air? Glancing this way and that, he put his back to the wall and began sliding forward, casting a revealing charm and a couple more detection charms for good measure.


Quirrel watched with bated breath as Snape began weaving a detection charm in the air. He winced as the charm ended, expecting discovery any moment. Thankfully his own defenses held and Snape seemed to lower his guard fractionally. Then the man seemed to think a moment. Seeming to decide on something, Snape made his way to the nearest door.

Oh damn.


The detection charms sent him no feedback, but that only meant that the corridor was safe and not beyond the doo...wait a minute. Was the corridor really safe? After all detection charms weren't entirely unbeatable. If someone was going to be crazy enough to get into the school, set loose a troll, and try to steal the artifact right under Dumbledore's nose, then detection charms weren't going to be very reliable. But that sort of thinking only got one mired in paranoia. What to do, what to do?

A couple of moments and Snape came up with an idea. Slinking to the nearest door, he stuck his wand in the keyhole and sent a silent stupefy through it. Nothing too nasty though. What if there were a student on the other side? Then he walked to each one, a swarm of bees here, pepper spray there. Nothing too deadly. Seeing as nothing popped out, he decided to chance the door to the trapdoor.


Quirrel's mouth was open in a wail of agony, yet nothing issued courtesy of the silencing charm. He'd been prepared for a stupefy, by which he meant he'd stepped off to the side. And then suddenly Snape had poked his wand in and sent up a swarm of bees. The little buggers had managed to get a few good ones in before he'd blasted the lot of them out of the air.

Cursing Snape and his well-deserved paranoia, he put his eyes once more to the keyhole and watched as Snape slid down the corridor to one particular door. All of Quirrel's instincts screamed that this had to be it. The potions master opened the door, stepped inside, and just as quickly fell back out, slamming the door shut behind him, grabbing a mangled leg. Oh, that was going to be a problem.

He watched as Snape pulled out a bottle from somewhere under his cloak and all but poured it over his wounds. All at once, the leg wound retreated from being something life-threatening to something that was not going to give you a lot of trouble just then but was surely lying in wait. Cursing quite creatively (Oh, his mother would wash that mouth out with soap and then some), Snape retreated down the corridor.


Quirrel sat down and pondered. Well, there was good news and bad news. The good news seemed to be that Snape was still part of the old gang, and he could feel his master's pleasure radiating from beneath his turban. Whatever had happened today, it seemed he would have a partner in crime. But there was the matter of whatever was standing guard behind that door.

Chances were good that it could be dealt with the good ol' Avada. But what if it weren't? What if Dumbledore had gone and gotten something that was intrinsically resistant to the death curse, something like...like...

'A gorgon. A cerebrus. A basilisk," his master supplied helpfully, reminding him once again that he was an inept failure as a Defense teacher.

Well, around these parts, there was only one purveyor of dangerous creatures. And luckily for Quirrel, that man just did not know how to keep a secret.


A/N: Well, there we go. A short chapter this time. Read and review and maybe I'll be motivated to write faster.