A/N: Many thanks to my two regular reviewers BrightWatcher and Louise Spinster Black. Your reviews are very encouraging.

And yes, there will generally be more Fred and George in my story than there was in canon. I love the twins and really think they have so much more story potential. As for the Delacours, they won't be featuring in the rest of first year, but I definitely see roles for them in the future.

Chapter Sixteen: Monsters in the Dark

March passed relatively uneventfully. By now, all the first-years were well-used to the daily routine at Hogwarts, and accustomed to the quirks of the castle and the professors. They knew, for instance, not to expect full marks in anything from Professor Wickham in Magical Theory, because he always deducted at least one mark on principle; they knew that Professor McGonagall would accept sloppy work submitted on time but not excellent work turned in late; they knew that Professor Sinistra never went anywhere without a hat; they learned how not to set off Professor Snape (except Harry and Neville); they knew that Professor Flitwick was the most easygoing of all the teachers; and they were even learning the patterns of the moving staircases, which made getting to places much easier.

Draco and Adrian, having finally put a specific label to their unconventional relationship, settled in to being friends, which raised a few eyebrows amongst the Slytherins — because it wasn't common for students in different years to spend as much time together as they did, and moreover the Puceys were not traditional associates of the Malfoys — but not much else. The grand pretence still rankled for Draco, but he was genuinely happy for the first time since school started. He was on good terms and communicating regularly via owl with Harry, he was doing well in his studies, and he had a friendship he didn't have to conceal with Adrian. He was still worried about Harry's investigation into Quirrell, since they had not had a chance to talk about it since Snape's detention, but he took comfort from the fact that at least Harry wasn't doing it alone. Regardless what he thought of the Weasel, he conceded that the redheaded wizard was loyal to a fault, and Granger was clever and had more common sense than both of them combined. Harry was hinting that he had made a breakthrough in the investigation and wanted to tell him about it, but he didn't want to put it in a letter or note, which Draco thought was smart. All things considered, Draco was content — though he resolved to try to find a time to meet with Harry before curfew to get updated.

On the Gryffindor side of things, the Weasley twins were now fully on board with the Quirrell investigation. Fred and George had pointed out that another way to get the proof they needed for the case against Quirrell was to provoke the professor into displaying his evilness. Hermione was wary about this plan, and even Ron had misgivings, but Harry wholly agreed that trying to anger Quirrell to the point of a Dark retaliation — particularly if there were witnesses to the incident — was a valid way of blowing his cover. Harry, Fred, and George almost immediately began acting up in all of Quirrell's classes, becoming unruly and downright disrespectful at times, in the hope of eliciting a reaction. Ron did the same to a lesser extent, and even Hermione admitted defeat on the translation of the runes after countless fruitless hours in the library and began to talk back to the turbaned teacher.

Professor Quirrell, however, proved to have the patience of a saint. He put up with all their antics with remarkable forbearance and rarely ever even assigned detentions — the most he did was deduct points and stutter through attempts to verbally discipline them. After almost a month of this, the five miscreants wisely decided to give up before they attracted the attention of the other professors or the ire of their classmates, and began plotting another way to expose Quirrell.

"After all," George reasoned, "it's not like he can make it to the Stone anytime soon, right, what with all the traps protecting it?"

The others agreed with him; it was a great comfort to know that even though Voldemort was lurking somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, there was still no way Quirrell could even get past Fluffy.

Harry, however, was starting to feel uneasy. His scar started hurting one night in Astronomy, and he apprehensively wondered if it was because Voldemort was hunting another unicorn in the Forest. He edged his way to the window, but of course, he could see nothing but the thick trees of the Forest, and the warm, cheery glow of Hagrid's hut.

"Mr. Potter, what are you looking at?" demanded Professor Sinistra.

"I was just admiring the night sky, Professor," Harry said innocently.

"Admire it through your telescope, if you please," Sinistra said peevishly. "You are supposed to be observing stars which cannot be seen by the naked eye."

"Yes, Professor."

Sinistra turned away, just before the ache in Harry's scar suddenly intensified and he had to resist the urge to clap a hand to his forehead. Ron and Hermione were bickering over the best angle to set their telescopes at, so they didn't notice his pained grimace — but Draco, watching him from a few feet away, did. He caught Harry's gaze and lifted his eyebrows in puzzled concern; Harry simply shook his head. Draco scowled, but knew he couldn't push further while there were people around.

At 1am, Professor Sinistra called the class to an end, and assigned them all their homework for the week before wishing them goodnight. Draco deliberately stepped on Harry's foot to give him an excuse to get close enough to slip him a note. Harry felt the parchment slide into his hand, and already knew that it detailed the time Draco wanted to meet him tomorrow.

Before he agreed to Severus's audacious plan to move Harry Potter to Malfoy Manor, Lucius knew he had to consult with his wife. While he was the head of the family, Narcissa was no subordinate or trophy wife, and she contributed a great deal to the management of their assets and shared life. Lucius knew many purebloods who lorded over their wives and saw little value in the women besides their dowry, connections, and ability to produce an heir — but Lucius himself had been attracted to Narcissa Black for her brains as well as her beauty. Their marriage was built on a foundation of mutual respect and genuine love, and their partnership had blossomed after they were wed. If Lucius followed through with Severus's suggestion, he and Narcissa would practically be adopting the Boy Who Lived, and that was not something to be taken lightly at all.

Severus agreed to wait in the study while Lucius sought Narcissa's advice. He found his wife reading in their bedroom; she looked up when Lucius entered.

"Severus found Potter," he said without preamble.

Narcissa's eyes widened. She knew all about her husband's ongoing attempts to find the Boy Who Lived, and she was aware also that it was a direct result of the unfulfilled life debt he owed Lily Potter. Lucius had been unable to repay Lily herself for the long-ago service she had done him in saving him from the cockatrice, and the laws of magic dictated that unpaid debts were inherited by the closest direct living descendant. As such, the instant Lily had died, the life debt Lucius owed her was passed on to her son. Lucius was now bound by ancient magic to see to Harry Potter's well-being, and there were unpleasant consequences if such a contract went unsatisfied.

"Where?"

Briefly, Lucius informed her of what Severus had discovered about Potter's living conditions. Narcissa was just as outraged as he had been.

"I should like to pay these despicable Muggles a visit," she said savagely. When she had a mind to, she could be quite ruthless. It was one of the reasons Lucius loved her, but in this instance it was not the wisest course of action.

"We believe Dumbledore placed Potter with them because Lily might possibly have invoked blood magic protection when she died for her son," he explained.

"Blood protection?" scoffed Narcissa. "They're Muggles. Their blood holds no power to protect a wizard."

"Perhaps," Lucius allowed. "But I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore knows more than he's letting on."

"Surely you're not going to leave Potter with those animals?" Narcissa said incredulously. "That does nothing for your debt."

"I know. Severus has a…solution." He quickly outlined the Potions Master's plan. When he was finished, Narcissa looked thoughtful.

"It is a lifelong commitment, Lucius," she observed. "A dangerous one as well. We both renounced the Dark Lord, but if Severus is right and he is not entirely gone…we would be putting our family at great risk."

"Yes," Lucius agreed. "Which is why, if we choose to proceed, Potter's existence under this roof must be the best-kept secret in Britain."

"I believe I can cope with that," Narcissa acquiesced. Lucius looked startled that she had assented so quickly, which made his wife smile. "Lucius, Harry Potter is the darling of the wizarding world. Having him be grateful towards us because we provide him with a proper home can only be a good thing in the long run — not to mention getting to mould him ourselves. There is also your life debt to Lily to consider, as well as the greater debt that we owe Harry himself."

"The debt we owe Harry?" Lucius repeated in some puzzlement.

"He did what we could not, Lucius. He made the world safe for Draco by defeating the Dark Lord. Like it or not, we owe more to him than you do to Lily."

Lucius could not deny this, and he went to tell Severus that yes, the Malfoys would take in Harry Potter.

The day after Astronomy class, Harry and Draco both made the necessary excuses to their respective lunch-mates (Ron and Hermione for Harry, and Adrian for Draco) so they could slip into the antechamber of the Great Hall to meet up during the first half of the lunch break. Draco got there first, and saw Harry rubbing his scar when he showed up a minute or so later.

"Is it hurting again?"

"Yeah."

"What was that last night?" Draco wanted to know. "You looked like you were trying to see something from the window."

"Well, I figured since the last time my scar hurt was when we saw that guy in the hood drinking the unicorn's blood, that maybe…"

"…he was doing it again?" Draco looked sick.

"Yeah — but listen, Draco, it's more than that."

"There's always something," he sighed. "Okay, spill."

"Um…" Harry hesitated. "You have to promise not to panic, okay?"

Draco peered at him apprehensively. "How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad."

"Great. Okay, I promise."

Harry took a breath and lowered his voice. "The one who was killing the unicorns? We think it was Voldemort."

Draco jumped at the sound of the name and turned so white he looked like a ghost. "Harry, what the hell?!" he hissed, looking about to make sure no one was around to hear that.

"It's connected to the Stone. We think Quirrell's working for Vol—"

"Don't say his name," Draco commanded.

"— for You-Know-Who, and he wants to take the Stone to him so he can come back to life properly instead of drinking unicorn blood," Harry finished.

"You can't be serious," Draco exclaimed, suddenly viewing that night in the Forest with considerably more terror.

"I wish I wasn't," Harry said grimly. "But my scar's been twinging since last night and it's only been getting worse. I think it means Quirrell's going to make his move soon."

"How can you be sure? Your scar's hurt before, even at the Manor where there was no danger."

"I dunno…something feels different about this time…"

"Harry, I think this has gone far enough. Proof or no proof, you've got to tell Severus," insisted Draco.

Harry nodded absently. "Yeah…I think you're right."

The fact that Harry was no longer being stubborn scared Draco almost more than the news about the Dark Lord.

"By the way…" Harry thrust a roll of parchment into Draco's unsuspecting hand. When Draco unrolled it, he found it covered with runes.

"What's this?"

"We found that in Quirrell's office. It's evidence of what he's up to, but we can't translate any bit of it."

"And you're giving this to me why?"

Harry shrugged. "You've always been more interested in runes than me. Maybe you can figure something out from it."

Lucius and Narcissa soon discovered that it was not easy raising Harry. Draco was quite a calm, peaceful boy — "A dignified child," Lucius had proudly commented once — but Harry was a different story altogether. He was naturally louder, more boisterous, more exuberant, and more affectionate than Draco, but there was another side to him as well; part of him remained the tentative, lonely child who had learned to rely only on himself, because the circumstances of his upbringing had been so harsh and uncertain. This aspect of Harry, a product of his abuse at the Dursleys', rarely saw the light of day after he came to accept the Malfoys as his surrogate family, but it did surface on occasion, and it manifested in a variety of ways.

Narcissa, naturally, was the first to notice it. From the moment Harry had arrived she had invited him to call her by name, but he never would. His care in always addressing her as 'Mrs. Malfoy' despite repeated assurances that it was all right to call her 'Narcissa' stretched on so long that she suspected there had to be an underlying reason for it. When she finally, gently, confronted him about it, the boy looked at her with wide green eyes and said, "You mean it's not a test to see if I'm polite enough to stay with you?"

There were other things, too. Harry never took more than a very little amount at meals, and always had to be persuaded to take more (it wasn't as if he wasn't hungry, either — he quite eagerly ate up whatever extra Lucius made him put on his plate). He seemed to cringe involuntarily whenever Lucius or even Draco made a movement too suddenly. He eyed belts with distaste and didn't like being in the same room as Lucius's cane. He was overeager about his magical heritage and asked numerous questions, but at times he would seem to check himself and keep quiet when there was clearly more he wanted to know. He feared lights with a greenish cast — though Lucius suspected that was more to do with a certain Dark Lord rather than the Dursleys.

And yet, despite all these signs, Harry gradually grew used to the Malfoys, and slowly lost many of the behaviours he had learned in an abusive household. Both Lucius and Narcissa agreed that, considering what all that Harry had been through in his young life, it was fortunate he wasn't more damaged.

It was a long time — almost a year — before either of them learned about the nightmares.

The third Saturday of March brought with it the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. The Eagles beat the Badgers to remain third on the Quidditch table behind Gryffindor and Slytherin — and their Quidditch points also enabled them to reclaim first place in the House Cup competition. Flint was cursing and already planning total annihilation of the Hufflepuff team in the next game, but Draco had more important things than the House Cup to worry about. Harry had decided to deliberately provoke a detention from Snape in order to tell him about his scar hurting and the results of his investigation, and Draco had reluctantly agreed to be there for moral support. He wasn't looking forward to it at all — Severus would not be pleased when he learned that Harry had gone out of his way to pry into the matter.

Come Potions on Friday, Harry retorted to Snape's usual insults very rudely, and the Potions Master promptly gave him detention.

"My office tonight, Potter. And make sure you bring your manners with you."

Draco studied his godfather's bearing as he stalked away from Harry's cauldron; surely he knew that Harry had an ulterior motive for getting detention? — but the air about him was solely that of a teacher who was utterly fed up, with no indication to the contrary.

At 8 o'clock that night, Draco slipped out of his common room after telling Crabbe and Goyle that he had left something in the library, and made his way to Severus's office, careful not to be seen. The professor's crisp voice told him to enter an instant after he knocked on the door, and he immediately went in. Harry was already there, standing in front of Snape's desk.

"Well?" demanded Snape. "What is it you have to tell me that required the privacy of a detention?"

"Professor, I'd like to say that Draco had nothing to do with this," Harry started. "It was all me, and Draco knows what I'm about to tell you only because I was keeping him updated."

"Wonderful," drawled Snape. "Am I to assume, then, that you've done something you most assuredly have no business doing?"

Harry nodded.

"Would I be correct in further deducing that it is something that broke even more rules than the midnight wanderings of the imaginary dragon?"

Another nod.

Snape sighed. "Very well, get on with it."

Screwing up his courage, Harry blurted, "Sir, we know about the Philosopher's Stone."

Draco stared at him, aghast. That was not how he would have done it at all. Apprehensively, he glanced at Severus to see his reaction.

Snape's nostrils flared, and his eyes blazed. "I told you you were not to interfere in that!"

"I wanted to help —" Harry defended.

"Help?" thundered Snape. "What help do you think an eleven-year-old boy — however special — can offer full-grown witches and wizards? You may have defeated the Dark Lord once, Potter — but don't think for a second that that qualifies you to handle any matter you try to stick your nose in. That kind of arrogance was intolerable in your father, and I will not have it from you."

Harry couldn't help a glare. Why did Snape always insist on bringing up James Potter's faults? He was not his father.

Snape noticed Harry's scowl, and he raised an eyebrow challengingly. "You have something to say to me, Potter?"

With difficulty, Harry schooled his face into something more respectful. "Sir, I understand that I disobeyed you, but I've managed to find out some things about this situation that I think you should know."

"And what could you possibly have discovered that is not already known to the adult teachers involved?"

"Sir, I think Quirrell wants to steal the Stone for Voldemort."

Snape blinked. "Quirrell?" he said, apparently so surprised he forgot to reprimand Harry for using the Dark Lord's name.

"I know you're already on his case, sir — I overheard you in the staff room that day," Harry admitted. "But there's more."

"Is there?" Snape said dryly.

"Did you know that Voldemort's in the Forbidden Forest killing unicorns and drinking their blood?"

Whatever Snape had been expecting, it wasn't that. His intense stare bored into Harry, silently ordering him to elaborate.

"Draco and I saw him during detention with Hagrid."

Snape's eyes flicked to Draco, who confirmed, "We did, sir."

"You had a detention in the Forest?"

"Yessir," said Harry. "It was the one we were assigned by Professor McGonagall after she caught us after curfew."

"I thought your detention was with Mr. Filch."

"So did we, but it turns out he was only taking us to Hagrid, and Hagrid took us into the Forest to look for a unicorn that was hurt, because he wanted to help it — only by the time Draco and I found it, the poor thing was already dead. Hagrid had told us there was something hunting unicorns, and we thought it was an animal or creature of some sort — but then someone in a hood came out and drank the unicorn's blood."

"Why do you think that was the Dark Lord?"

"Because he made my scar hurt really badly when he looked at me," Harry responded.

Snape's expression became alarmed. "He saw you? Both of you?"

"I think so," Harry confessed, while Draco shivered at the thought of being in such proximity to the Dark Lord. "I'm not sure if he recognised us, 'cause it was really dark — but he was coming towards us, and I couldn't move 'cause my head was hurting so bad — and then this centaur came out of nowhere and drove him off."

Snape muttered a curse under his breath. What in Salazar's name had McGonagall been thinking, assigning a late night detention in the Forbidden Forest — and under Hagrid, of all people! Snape had nothing against the half-giant, but he did not think him qualified to protect children from Dark forces. Snape resolved to have a few choice words with the Deputy Headmistress — but first, he had this mess to deal with. Whether the boys realised it or not (and it may have slipped Harry's notice, but judging by Draco's horrified expression, he had some idea), their carefully-crafted charade was at risk. If that really was Voldemort in the Forest, and if he had recognised them, then there was a chance that the Dark Lord had already concluded that the Malfoys' allegiance was no longer his.

But perhaps not… Snape rapidly organised his thoughts. Just because Draco was with Harry in the Forest didn't mean that they were friends — and any eleven-year-old would be frightened out of their wits to see someone drinking blood from a dead unicorn. Snape ran through a few more deductions, and concluded that the pretence was most likely still safe. He would have to speak to Lucius, but overall, there was nothing really incriminating about Draco's presence at that incident.

The greater concern was that the Dark Lord was apparently not as weak as Dumbledore had thought, if he was strong enough to walk around the Forest hunting and killing unicorns. Snape felt a headache coming on at the thought of the uproar this news would cause when he reported it to the others. Pushing that aside for the time being, he brought his attention back to the immediate issue: the two boys in front of him.

It was easy to see who the Gryffindor was in this scenario; Harry was apprehensive, but he stood tall and proud in a manner that would have reminded Snape of James if his eyes hadn't been burning with a fire all Lily's. Draco, in contrast, was plainly wishing that he did not have to be involved in this. Snape could sympathise.

The former Death Eater clasped his hands and pondered what to do. While he wouldn't punish the boys for potentially exposing their ruse to Voldemort because the unicorn incident hadn't been their fault, Harry's apparent nosiness into the matter of the Philosopher's Stone was a different issue altogether. And yet, he had contributed some valuable information. Snape resisted the urge to smirk at the fact that Harry had identified Quirrell as the conspirator; it would seem the Defence professor had not been as discreet as he liked to think.

"Listen to me, both of you," said Snape finally. "Harry, while I am displeased that you deliberately disobeyed me, I cannot deny that you have provided information necessary for us to know — and you at least had the sense to keep Draco in the loop about it instead of keeping it to yourself. You also proved to be sensible enough to come to me, which is commendable, considering the usual Gryffindor tendencies. I will deduct ten points from Gryffindor for disobedience, but you may have five for common sense."

Harry exhaled in relief; he'd been expecting worse.

"Henceforth," continued Snape, "you are both to cease any type of investigation into this affair. By all means, keep your eyes and ears open and report anything suspicious to me — but any active effort to uncover more information stops now. This is for your own good — there are people and forces at play that you would be unable to cope with should you inadvertently encounter them. Rest assured that the teachers are aware of the danger and have taken steps to protect the Stone, and if anyone attempts to steal it, we will handle it. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now go."

Draco nodded and gratefully exited the office, but Harry remained where he was. Snape suppressed a growl.

"What now, Potter?"

"Sir, there's one more thing."

Snape impatiently waved for him to proceed.

"My scar hasn't stopped aching since Wednesday. I think it means that whatever Quirrell or Voldemort is planning is going to happen soon."

Snape frowned. "Noted."

Harry finally left, and Snape slouched slightly in his chair, feeling the beginnings of the promised headache.

Lucius startled awake at the feel of small hands shaking him, and saw the wide, scared eyes of his son.

"Harry won't wake up," eight-year-old Draco said fearfully.

The Head of the Malfoy Family was out of bed and out the door with wand in hand in two seconds flat. Narcissa was an instant behind him, just as shocked and horrified that anyone could have attacked Harry Potter in the safety of Malfoy Manor.

Only when he reached Harry's room did Lucius realise that Draco had only meant Harry would not wake up from a nightmare.

The little boy was tossing and turning in his bed, moaning and pleading unintelligibly with a threat only he could see. Narcissa moved to his side and attempted to soothe him, but the sleeping Potter would not be consoled. When he still would not wake up after Lucius's rather firm "Harry" (he'd stopped calling him "Potter" several months ago as he actually grew fond of the boy), Lucius resorted to a reviving spell.

The gentle "Rennervate" succeeded in jolting Harry awake, and he looked bemused and contrite to see all the Malfoys there. "Oh, no — did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

Lucius and Narcissa traded glances. Since when did a child apologise for having a nightmare? Lucius set his lips in a grim line. No doubt this was another result of Harry's upbringing with those appalling Muggles. Lucius could imagine that they might well have ordered the boy not to wake them up under any circumstances — never mind if Harry himself was whimpering in fear in the cupboard under the stairs.

"Harry, there's nothing to apologise for," said Narcissa reassuringly. "It was a nightmare — everyone has them from time to time."

Lucius noticed that Harry still looked glum, so he asked, "Harry, how often do you have nightmares?"

Harry looked surprised at the question. "Uh, maybe…once or twice a week? Draco usually wakes me up." His brow creased and he glanced at Draco. "How come you didn't wake me up this time?"

"I couldn't, that's why I got Mother and Father," said Draco.

Lucius was thinking. "Harry, are your nightmares always the same?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

That was a persistent nightmare; it would have to be addressed.

"We'll talk about it in the morning," Lucius decided. "For now, are you able to go back to sleep or do you require a Dreamless Sleep potion?"

"I think I'll be all right."

"Very well, then, Harry, get some rest," said Narcissa. "We'll see you in the morning."

"Mmkay."

Harry had expected to feel lighter after he finally came clean to Snape, but his nerves refused to settle, and the ache of his scar persisted practically nonstop for the next week.

"Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione recommended.

"I'm not ill," Harry denied. "It's a warning — it means danger's coming…"

"Fancy having a scar to tell you when danger's coming," said Fred. "That'd be pretty handy, wouldn't it, George?"

"Extremely. It could tell us when Filch was coming —"

"— when McGonagall's on the warpath —"

"— when it's safe to pull a prank or not —"

"It's not a joke," Harry insisted, though he couldn't help a small smile. The Weasley twins had taken to sticking close to them more often lately — "…to keep an eye on you firsties," Fred had said — and their quick wit and lively natures helped to take the younger students' minds off the lurking threat of Voldemort. Harry had not told them he'd gone to Snape, of course — but thanks to Fred and George, Ron and Hermione had relaxed enough to feel reasonably safe in trusting that Fluffy would keep Quirrell away from the Stone, and that Dumbledore would keep Voldemort away from Hogwarts.

"'Course it's not," George said seriously. "Imagine how useful it would be on the pitch! A little tingle and you'd know that the other team's Seeker was gaining on you!"

"Speaking of Quidditch," said Fred, "d'you reckon the Badgers can do us a favour and beat the snot out of Slytherin this Saturday?"

"I would say yes, but I'd be lying," George said gloomily. "Unless Slytherin have an off day, there's no way they're losing to Hufflepuff. What matters is the margin they win by. The more they score the harder it's going to be for us."

"Bollocks," Fred sighed. "Ah, well, we've got good old Harry here to catch us the Snitch when we play Ravenclaw. He's better than their Seeker by far." He grinned at Harry, who returned the gesture.

George checked his watch. "Fred, we're supposed to meet Lee in the library in five minutes."

"So we are," Fred agreed, rising. "Toodles, you three."

Ron gazed suspiciously after the twins as they left. "They've been awfully nice lately."

"You make that sound like a bad thing," said Hermione.

"With the twins? It definitely is."

"Ron, they're your brothers."

"Exactly." He nodded sagely. "Which is why I know they're up to something. What d'you reckon, Harry?" He glanced at his dark-haired friend, who had returned to thinking and didn't respond. Ron sighed in exasperation. "Harry, don't get all broody on us again. The Stone's as safe as it can be with Hagrid's pet Cerberus guarding it — and Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down. He's never even told us how to get past Fluffy."

Far from being reassured, Harry frowned harder. Something wasn't quite right. It was no secret that Hagrid was good with all kinds of animals — anyone could have known to ask him about a Cerberus…anyone…

"SHIT!" he exploded, leaping to his feet.

Hermione looked scandalised at the swear word, but Harry paid her no mind — his vocabulary, while a great deal more colourful than it should be for his age (thanks to Uncle Vernon) was the least of his concerns right now.

"Harry, what is it?" Ron inquired.

"I've just realised — how did Hagrid get Norbert's egg?" Harry asked urgently.

"He said he won it from someone in a card game, didn't he?"

"Yeah, and that's a hell of a coincidence, isn't it? How many people do you know who walk around with illegal dragon eggs in their pocket and just happen to find someone who wants a dragon more than anything?"

"All right, that's odd, but what does this have to do with —"

"Come on!" Harry exclaimed, taking off at a sprint. "We have to go see Hagrid!"

"Harry, wait!" Hermione called as she and Ron ran after him. "Slow down!"

Ron and Hermione barely managed to keep up with their crazed friend, who only slowed down once Hagrid's hut came into view. Hagrid himself was skinning a stoat outside his home, with Fang beside him attempting to get at the scraps.

"Hagrid!" cried Harry. "I have to ask you something!"

Rather bemused at the young Gryffindor's frenzied manner, Hagrid responded, "Sure, Harry. What is it?"

"You remember the night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"I dunno. He always kept his hood up. I never saw his face."

"What did you talk about? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Well, yeah, I s'pose that mighta come up…" Hagrid frowned thoughtfully. "It's a bit difficult ter remember, he kept buyin' me drinks…yeah, he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here…he asked what sorta creatures I looked after, so I told him…an' he asked if I'd ever bin interested in gettin' a dragon."

"He literally asked you if you wanted a dragon?" Ron demanded incredulously.

"Yeah — he said he'd come by a dragon egg an' was lookin' ter give it to someone who could look after it, 'cause he sure couldn'. He said we could play cards fer it if I wanted, but firs' he wanted ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home — so I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy…"

Harry struggled to keep his voice even. "And did he seem interested in Fluffy?"

"Well, o' course! It's not often yeh meet a three-headed dog, is it? He'd heard they were real fierce, though, an' he wondered how I kept Fluffy calm an' if I'd be able ter do the same with a dragon — so I told him, for Fluffy, all I had ter do was play a bit o' music an' he'll go right ter sleep —"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gone the second before Hagrid realised what he'd just let slip.

"We have to tell Dumbledore," Harry said as they reached the empty entrance hall of the castle. He was panting, but his tone was more urgent than ever. "It was either Quirrell or Voldemort under that hood, and Hagrid told him how to get past Fluffy. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. We should probably tell Snape, too," he added, ignoring the way Ron's and Hermione's faces went slack at that suggestion.

"Snape?" cried Ron. "He'd think we were making it all up!"

"He's the only teacher we know who already suspects Quirrell."

"Well…yeah…but it's Snape."

"Look," said Harry impatiently, "right now, I don't care who believes us, as long as somebody does. You two go find Dumbledore, I'll find Snape — and we'll meet back here when we're done, okay?"

Before either Ron or Hermione could protest, Harry pivoted away, heading for the dungeons.

"Wait, Harry!" said Hermione frantically. "Where do we find Dumbledore?"

"Check his office!" Harry called over his shoulder.

Hermione met Ron's eyes in consternation. "Where's Dumbledore's office?"

Ron shrugged helplessly.

Harry's recurring nightmare, it turned out, was in fact not a nightmare at all, but a memory. When Lucius questioned him about it, Harry described a general feeling of terror, a man shouting and a woman screaming, a sense of urgent movement and being jostled like he was going up the stairs — and then came the scariest part: a high, cold voice, a bright green light, and a burning pain on his forehead which would carry over to his first few waking moments after the dream. Usually that was the point when he woke up, but if he didn't, the dream continued in broken fragments. Sometimes there was the barest glimpse of a big, hairy man; sometimes there was a flying motorbike; sometimes there were brief flashes of city lights at night.

Frankly, Lucius was amazed that Harry had retained this much of an event that happened when he was one, but at the same time he wasn't surprised that the trauma of that night guaranteed that it was forever imprinted on Harry's memory.

"You mean all that stuff really happened?" a stunned Harry asked after Lucius explained that his dreams were the result of his subconscious reliving the night when his parents had died.

"I'm not sure about the flying motorcycle," Lucius conceded, "but the rest of it certainly sounds like what happened that night."

Harry was quiet for a while. "I think I see him sometimes. Voldemort, I mean."

"Why do you say that, Harry?" Narcissa asked cautiously.

"I dunno…but sometimes, usually when it's dark — I'll see something pass by from the side. It's always gone when I look, but it sort of feels like my nightmare. And my scar hurts when that happens, too."

Lucius wondered whether to be alarmed or not. Surely if the Dark Lord were beginning to rise again, he would have heard something about it. What Harry was describing sounded more like lingering subconscious trauma — perhaps his curse scar gave him a greater connection to his dark past than was otherwise normal…

Lucius frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him. That was…no, but if that were the case…more research was definitely required.

Narcissa, oblivious to the wary thoughts in her husband's head, was quick to soothe Harry. "Did you have these episodes at your aunt and uncle's, too?"

"Yeah, but I didn't tell them," Harry said glumly. "They would've just locked me up in the cupboard for being a freak — and then I'd see more, 'cause it was dark."

Narcissa kept her face smooth, but in her head she was casting the most powerful Dark curses she knew on the Dursleys. "Well, you're here now, Harry, and we won't do anything of the sort. If it frightens you, you can come to me or Lucius, all right?"

Harry thought about that, his expression unusually serious — and then his little face brightened, and his eyes sparkled, reminding Lucius painfully of Lily.

"All right."

Snape wasn't in his office. Nor was he in the staff room. Harry checked the Potions classroom, but there wasn't a class going on at the moment, and the Potions lab was empty too. In desperation, Harry dared to venture to Snape's personal quarters. The Potions Master's private suite was not far from the Slytherin common room, but unless one knew where to look for it, the entrance wasn't visible. Snape had told him where it was as a precaution, but had stressed that he was only to go there in emergencies. This counted.

Unfortunately, the corridor was filled with students — mostly Slytherins, making it impossible for Harry to march up to the seam in the wall that didn't quite match with the rest and knock to be allowed in. As he stayed out of sight and dithered about what to do, he missed hearing the footsteps coming up behind him.

"Long way from Lion territory, aren't you?"

Harry jumped and whirled around to find the smirking face of Blaise Zabini.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" the dark-skinned boy asked casually.

"I'm, er…looking for Professor Snape."

Zabini raised an eyebrow curiously. "Goodness, why?"

"I'm pretty sure he marked me down on the last essay we did purely out of spite, and I want to get the grade changed."

Zabini snorted. "Good luck with that, Potter, you know he hates you."

Harry managed a cocky smile. "Gotta try. Where is he?"

"He left after classes today to get some Potions ingredients. He told us Slytherins he wouldn't be back till well past midnight."

Harry froze even as his scar twitched. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Right, thanks, Zabini — and, uh, I'd appreciate it if you don't mention this to any of your Housemates."

"Especially Malfoy, right?" Zabini said archly.

"Er — right."

"My lips are sealed, Potter."

"Thanks." Harry hurried out of the dungeon and jogged back to the entrance hall. He really hoped Ron and Hermione had been able to see Dumbledore, because he was the only other adult who would believe them without proof…

"Harry!"

His two friends were just across the hall; Harry made a beeline straight for them, but one look at their faces confirmed the bad news.

"Dumbledore's not here, mate — he got an owl from the Ministry and had to leave for some emergency. He won't be back till tomorrow," Ron informed him.

Harry stared. "How d'you know that?"

"Professor McGonagall told us," said Hermione, looking guilty. "We ran into her while we were trying to find Dumbledore's office. She wouldn't let us go until she found out why we wanted to see him in the first place, so we told her we knew about the Philosopher's Stone…"

"Did she believe you?"

"She wouldn't even let us get to the part about Quirrell," said Ron. "She shut us up as soon as we mentioned the Stone, said it was none of our business and we weren't to interfere — then she marched off before we could tell her that Quirrell was going to steal it."

"Any luck with Professor Snape, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking as though she couldn't believe they had to rely on a teacher who disliked them so much.

"No," Harry replied grimly. "He's not at Hogwarts either."

Ron gaped at him. "Snape and Dumbledore are both not here? They're the only ones who are suspicious about Quirrell!"

"I know. Which means it's tonight — Quirrell's going after the Stone tonight; there's no better time for him, with Snape and Dumbledore both out of the way. I bet he sent that owl to Dumbledore, too — the Ministry's going to get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"So what do we do?" asked Ron. "We can't let Quirrell get the Stone."

"No…but short of going to get the Stone ourselves before Quirrell can get it — which is mad, I know," Harry assured his gobsmacked friends, "— I can't think what we can do to keep him away from it."

"Fred and George might have some ideas," said Ron. "Let's go find them. They said they were going to the library, yeah?"

The twins were indeed in the library, conversing with Lee Jordan over a stack of books which Hermione was quite sure had nothing to do with schoolwork. Ron was sent to get them.

"Fred, George — I need to talk to you," he said, meeting Fred's eyes meaningfully. The twin understood at once.

"Right," Fred agreed. "Lee, would you excuse us for a moment? Family issues."

"Sure."

They gathered in a corner of the library, far away from anyone else, speaking in hushed voices. Harry quickly filled them in.

"You know, maybe we can do something," Fred said thoughtfully, locking eyes with his twin, who caught his drift immediately.

"As it turns out, we have something that'll help us track Quirrell," said George.

"You do?" Hermione said hopefully.

"Yes, but you three all have to swear you won't tell anyone about what we're about to show you," Fred said firmly.

"In fact," said George, "you have to solemnly swear it."

Harry, anxious for anything that would help prevent Voldemort from getting his hands on the Philosopher's Stone, quickly said, "I solemnly swear."

"I solemnly swear," Ron repeated.

Hermione held out the longest, looking suspiciously at the twins. Harry nudged her with his elbow.

"I solemnly swear," she said in a resigned voice.

Satisfied, Fred said, "George, if you would do the honours…"

George reached into his book bag and pulled out a large, folded piece of parchment. It was yellowed and old and well-worn, and when George unfolded it, it was completely blank.

"This," he confided, "is our most prized possession."

"And one of our most private secrets," Fred added. "We're only revealing it now because it's for the greater good."

"It's just a bit of old parchment," Ron objected.

"Just a bit of old parchment!" Fred looked offended. "Observe, my uncultured brother." He tapped the parchment with his wand and intoned, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Thin, black lines began to spiderweb across the previously blank parchment, blossoming from the point of Fred's wand until they had sketched out a detailed map of Hogwarts. Words appeared at the top of the map.

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers,
are proud to present
THE MARAUDER'S MAP

"Whoa!" exclaimed Ron, suitably impressed. "Where did you get this?"

"Well…when we were in our first year — young, carefree, and innocent —"

Ron coughed.

"— well, more innocent than we are now — we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

"We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason."

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual —"

"— detention —"

"— disembowelment —"

"— and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous."

"George caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb —"

"— and Fred whipped open the drawer and grabbed this."

Harry was only half-listening to the story. He was studying the Marauders' Map, trying to see why the twins thought it would be useful in their current situation. He peered closer at the moving black dots on the parchment — they each seemed to be labelled with a name. "What are those?"

"That," said Fred with great satisfaction, "is how we're going to keep an eye on Quirrell."

A/N: Lucius, Narcissa, and Snape may not be as unpleasant as they were in canon, and they are overall more decent people in this AU - but I feel like they should still retain some of their Machiavellian characteristics. Good is not nice sometimes.

Next week: The Golden Trip dive underground, Draco does homework, and someone finds Voldemort.