AN: First, I want to thank everyone for their reviews and input. I've decided animagus forms! They won't be in this chapter, but they're coming up quicker than I thought. Now, thank you to the reviewer who requested that McGonagall watch Snape and Harry return from the cemetery; I added two sentences to the previous chapter just for you because it was such an amazing idea! And two, this chapter does have some direct takes from the Philosopher's Stone - the section with the Midnight Duel. Had to keep it, since it is our first introduction to Fluffy.

Now enjoy!

Chapter 16

Hermione didn't know what had happened between the Professor and Harry when she'd left the alone, but when they both came up the hill finally Harry had rushed her and pulled her into the tightest hug imaginable to thank her repeatedly and fervently. Even Professor Snape clapped his hand on her shoulder in an unusual show of affection.

And the result was exactly what she'd hoped; Harry didn't complain about the Professor anymore. Instead of turning his essays into McGonagall in the morning, he'd gathered all those Poor and Dreadful essays and brought them back to Professor Snape.

What am I going to do with the boy? Severus thought as he scribbled on the page blow.

Potter needed Defence lessons with Granger, that was certain; two first-years going up against a troll without even knowing stupefy? Unacceptable! With Quirrell in the school he would not allow them to be unarmed.

Miss Granger was competent enough that the Saturday tutoring session he provided could be divided to add Defence.

Then there was the matter of the report Poppy Pomphrey had delivered to him just moments ago in a fit. Potter was right, they had never touched him. That was the concern.

A knock at his door. "Enter!"

Think of the Devil, his mind snarked when the tiny boy with messy hair popped his head inside. "Well, Potter? I haven't all morning."

The boy scurried straight up to his desk with rolls of scrolls burdening his thin arms. He dumped them on his orderly desk. He was seconds away from snarling at the child when the bright emerald eyes looked up at him with that small spark of hope and trust from the day before.

"I brought my essays, sir."

Severus swore internally. He could very easily extinguish the spark in Potter, so easily … but he felt as guilty as the day he insulted Lily at the thought. So, instead, he tapped his wand and the scrolls flew into chronological order to his right-hand side.

"So, it seems," he agreed, ignoring them for the moment and holding out a potion. "Take this. Then we have something to discuss."

Harry gave a face that told him Poppy had shown him the wondrous taste of potions already, but he took it without complaint.

"That potion, Mr Potter, is a regenerative mixture for your lungs," he informed the boy. Harry looked up in alarm. To explain some questions, he displayed the parchment out of his eyesight. "I had a chat with Madame Pomphrey before you arrived, which surprised me. Many other students would put off such a task. I'm very proud of you for going to her when I asked."

There was a gleam of happiness that invaded those worried orbs that told him he'd chosen correctly his wordage. "Your results do indeed show that your relatives did not touch you … or feed you, or provide proper glasses, or give you any medicine for illness."

He put the parchment back on his desk deliberately. "It seems we have some work to do. You have nothing urgently wrong with you, however your lungs are scarred from an untreated bought of pneumonia when you were younger, your bones are weak, you are undersized and underweight, and your eyesight is awful. We'll address them one at a time, in that order, until you are as healthy as your peers.

"Except for your eyesight," Professor Snape informed him. "Potter, have you noticed there is not a single other student who wears eyeglasses? Or that it is only the older staff members such as Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster who do?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, I can tell you there is reason for this," Severus informed him properly. "The older generation don't care for it, but there was a potion invented eight years ago that can change your eyesight to a proper, corrected state." He had developed the potion himself, using his own vision as a guide. He'd always been told he had eagle sight. "Your eyes will burn for a few hours, however if you take it before bed you should sleep through it and wake in the morning with better vision. If that does not appeal to you, I can also take you to get new glasses."

"No, no, sir!" Harry didn't want to know how expensive the potion was, but he knew that glasses were expensive from his aunt. "I don't want to be a bother, sir. Really!"

Severus Snape was at the end of his patience. Petunia Dursley nee Evans, if Potter didn't have to return to you every year …. The boy clearly had no idea the NHS paid for doctors and eyecare and such. He had no idea that his care was only the inconvenience of taking the boy to the doctor's office once and a while and feeding him properly. Or if he did, he considered even that meager bit of care to be too much for normal people. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Potter, it is no bother for the Potions Master who invented said potion to brew it for one boy," he turned his eyes to the child, seeing him gape in shock. "However, if you do not want your eyesight corrected … ?"

"I do! I do!"

He rolled his eyes. "Once would have sufficed, Potter. You will have the potion. As you cannot take it with your other potions, it will have to wait for another week."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

Severus gave a small nod and sat back down in his chair. The book he'd selected was swiftly passed to the small child. He didn't expect Potter to read something purely academic – he knew better – so a collection of cautionary tales would have to do.

"Since it will take me some time to go through your atrocious handwriting a second time, you will need something to occupy your time. Yesterday you decided to take on a fully-grown mountain troll, so today you will begin your instruction in Defence. The first chapter should help you realize the potential consequences of going willingly into danger."

Understanding the directive, Harry quickly took the book in hand and sat in front of the desk to read.

Both Severus and Harry sat together quietly, one grading essays and the other slowly growing more wide-eyed at the candid description of Sir Ellis' overconfident trip into a dragon's lair, his slow dismemberment and then quick incineration. Harry gulped a little at the image.

He had realized – once the troll's massive club had come into view – that he was in trouble. But he hadn't thought about what could have happened in detail. He hadn't necessarily thought about bones breaking or him dying, just that he was in general, dangerous trouble. It was jarring.

"I see you understand." Harry looked up to see Professor's discerning eyes. "You understand now why you were unbearably foolish?"

"But if we hadn't, Hermione would have been hurt!" he protested. "What was I s'posed to do?"

"Tell your Prefects, your Professors!" Severus snapped. "You were equipped with a mere month's worth of basic magic and were nothing more than lucky that you weren't killed! The Weasley twins, loathe as I am to admit it, make more sense as rescuers than you. Yet you ran in without a thought!"

Snape slammed down his hand and Harry jumped. "How can I protect you if you put yourself in danger?!"

Harry couldn't breath. The stern, evil Professor was angry, but because he wanted to protect him? And Harry believed it; the Professor's eyes were burning and he was practically steaming. He wanted to protect him. Even though the Professor didn't like him, he still wanted him safe. His eyes prickled involuntarily. If he could dislike him and still care, why couldn't the Dursleys?

Severus averted his eyes from the brat's teary expression. Yelling at him was deserved in the face of his foolish heroics, and he would not apologize for it. No, better to divert attention once more.

"We'll let this be for now. In regard to you essays, they are exactly as I remembered," he fanned the parchments across the desk, bringing the boy's attention there. "The first few are of less than average quality, however they do improve significantly later. Miss Granger's aid, I presume?"

The boy nodded, but still looked teary. He ignored it.

"You will find the new grades more accurate to … your efforts," he complimented stiffly. "Take them. And read next week's potions section before our Saturday tutorial."

Potter scrambled to obey as quickly as possible, once again burdening himself with too many scrolls. Perhaps he should assign fewer essays.

"Thank you, sir!"

Harry came back from his meeting with Professor Snape several Exceeds Expectations, an Acceptable, and an Outstanding greater, with a beaming smile so bright it could have blinded the common room. So, in Hermione's extra lesson that day she gave the Professor one of the hugs he said he didn't like but never seemed to actually pull away from unless someone was watching. This time he even gave her a pat on the back!

And while she still felt protective of Harry, he was happier and his happiness made her feel more relaxed about it all.

Then Malfoy decided to be a ponce once again. The Quidditch season schedule had been announced, and the first game was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, meaning the blonde boy was more than a little angry at Harry for going up against his house as a first-year. Hermione had agreed to meet the three first-year boys for homework in the library, but they were promptly found and cornered by Malfoy and a set of cronies. Blaise Zabini was there, surprisingly, just leaning against the stacks with an amused grin.

"I'm not surprised you made the team, actually," Draco sneered at Harry. "There must be plenty of students who want to hit you with a bludger."

Hermione was ready to march on up there and clobber the little monster. They had a truce! But Ron held her back.

"Harry's got this."

He did. Sort of.

"Jealous, Malfoy?" Harry glared. "I'm sure daddy will buy you a team of your own sometime."

Malfoy's face turned a violent red. "If you weren't Harry bleeding Potter you'd have never been allowed. You're the one they're fawning over."

"You're a lot braver on the ground," he pointed out, looking to Crabbe and Goyle. "I guess you really do need your goons to protect you."

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. Then his eyes slid to Hermione.

"Granger," he said.

"What?"

"That's cheating!"

Hermione glared at Malfoy. "I am not dueling."

"Ah, ah," Malfoy tutted, "I named you. Unless you want to permanently end ties between our families – no more potions from my mum – you have to stand as my second."

Hermione scowled. "You're blackmailing me? With hair potions?! You-you …. UGH! Fine, I'll come, but if I have to duel you're all getting boils."

Draco beamed a snarky smile. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

"Midnight?!" Hermione shrieked.

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other.

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

Hermione smacked the table, making all three boys jump. Neville hadn't done anything, but he was twitchy anyways from the encounter. "You boys are idiotic! Why would you agree to that?!"

Harry's eyes were wide. "But you heard him, I had to—"

"It's against the rules," she argued fiercely. "You are not going, Harry Potter!"

"I am!" Harry argued. "You don't have to be there, you know."

She folded her arms and looked down at the annoying black-haired boy. "Yes, I do, actually. And you need someone who can actually do magic in case something goes wrong. As if I'd let you go off without me."

Harry seemed to understand that she wouldn't tell on them, and that she'd even go just to protect them even though she hated the idea. He gave her a charming grin. "Thanks, 'Mione."

"You're thanking her?" Ron stated in disbelief. "She's Malfoy's second!"

"And according to you, I won't even have to duel," Hermione pointed out. "He only named me because he wants to rub it in your faces that he has a third-year on his side. And he thought, since I'm friendly with his Mother, that I wouldn't say no. I can't believe he'd do that! I'm telling Lady Malfoy on him; he is not allowed to duel or to be such a big prat."

Harry and Ron listened to her rant about Malfoy and about exactly what she was going to tell the blond menace's mum with a lot of laughter.

Hermione chaffed at the thought of breaking rules like this, but if the boys were determined she couldn't really do anything. So when everyone went to bed she crept down to the common room with a book (no one would notice if Hermione stayed up late reading) and waited. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows by the time the boys arrived. And Hermione was there, all dressed in a pink bathrobe and glaring viciously at them. "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."

"Well, I am."

She huffed. "Fine."

Neville was right outside the common room, but the Fat Lady was gone so they had no choice but to take the boy with them. She liked Neville, though; he was the only other one there that thought this midnight duel was a horrible idea. Not that his input changed Harry's mind.

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak - and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room.

"Kids, always breaking the rules," Filch muttered, "hooligans. Must be 'ere somewhere."

"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry and Hermione both yelled in unison, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going - they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I - told - you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I - told - you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quick."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off. Oh no, that's the reason he picked me as a second! He wanted to make sure I was here too! Ugh, I'm going to get stuck with him in the morning!"

Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Let's go."

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shush, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door - and it was locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open – Ron gaped in surprise – they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right - please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay - get off, Ron!" For Ron had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

Harry turned around - and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare - this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Hermione could only stare. Her eyes went from head to foot, processing what she saw with cold dread. When her eyes met the dog's feet, it fixed on an iron handle and old-looking trapdoor.

Harry had been moving while she was frozen, and the door behind them opened. They fell backward - Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere, but they hardly cared - all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, either of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."

"No, not the floor! That Cerberus is guarding a trapdoor. And whatever is through it."

She stood up, glaring at them.

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. If you'd only listened to me, but nooo, you don't need to listen to know-it-all Hermione. Hmph! Well, if you aren't planning on anything else foolish, I'm going to bed."

Ron stared after her, his mouth open. "Wait!"

She whirled around, hair crackling. "What?"

Ron gulped, looking warily at her sparking angry face, but the words came out anyways. "You used Harry's wand."

"What?" Both Harry and Hermione stared at him strangely.

He nodded vigorously. "When you unlocked the door, you grabbed Harry's wand and it worked. How did it work? Wands don' work for other people! My mum and dad don't even share wands."

Hermione thought back to the moment at the door. She had grabbed Harry's wand, and it channeled her magic just as well as her own wand.

"I'll have to look up what it means," Hermione thought out loud. "I don't know much about it."

"Well you wouldn't would'cha?" Ron said. "It's common knowledge, innit, but for the magical folk? Everyone knows. Kids don't use their parents' wands 'cause they don't work, see, and same with my brothers. Worst you can do is make sparks, and I can't even do that with Percy's."

Harry was looking even more perplexed. "Then why did mine work for Hermione?"

She frowned. "Maybe because … you were holding it? Or … what is it Ron?"

He looked hopeful. "Yeah, that must be it! 'Cause Harry was holding it, duh!"

"Well," Harry fumbled in his pocket for his wand, "we can try now, right? 'Mione can take my wand and try a spell."

"Her-mi-one," she enunciated. Still, Hermione took his wand in her hand. It felt the same as anything else. Her wand felt nice, but Harry's just felt … normal. She gave it a flick. "Lumos."

Hermione didn't need to say it twice. The wand tip glowed brightly, enough that it was like looking into a torch and Hermione had to look at it indirectly.

"Maybe … I can try yours?" Harry suggested.

Hermione handed it over quickly and he gave it a swish. Purple sparks shot from the tip. Ron was green now.

"I wonder what it means," Hermione extinguished the light, leaving their night vision ruined. Returning Harry's wand, she turned to a green Ron. "What is it now?"

"Er, well …" He flubbed, looking between them. "It's just … that means you really match. Like … get married kind of match."

Both Hermione and Harry looked at each other with wide eyes, taking in each other. It couldn't be helped, she was analyzing how Harry looked and how she felt and all of it all at once. He had very pretty eyes, but otherwise she didn't really find him attractive. He is rather tiny. She felt horrible for thinking anything negative about Harry – she did like Harry, and want to protect him, and enjoy spending time with him – but he was just so tiny and helpless, and not at all handsome. He looked like a small child to her.

She shook her head. Her parents and her church both said she couldn't date until she was older, and so it didn't even matter. And Harry was more like a brother to her than anything else.

"Erm, Ron, I don't really think of Harry like that," Hermione said with a little too much strain. She was relieved when Harry agreed. "I'll look it up, but there should be another reason. And, Mr. Ollivander! He would know. I'll send him an owl."

Then she refocused, looking at both boys sharply. "What we need to do now is go to bed. Goodnight."

In the morning Hermione stormed up to Malfoy – aided in speed by the castle's punishment for him bringing him straight to her – and kicked him right in the shin before giving him an earful about obeying the rules, being honourable, and not taking out his bad moods on Harry just because he wanted to. Malfoy was browbeaten into submission by an irate Hermione Granger, then received a reply from Mrs. Malfoy regarding what Hermione had written to her, and apologized in record time to Harry and her.

Mr. Ollivander answered within the week with a simple reply.

'Miss Granger,

You are not the first to ask about this. While a wand is loyal to its wielder, there are others – men and women alike – who it will allow the use of them. I had told you in the shop that I did not have specialized to specific people, rather to their personalities. This is true. And looking at yours and Mister Potter's I must see the resemblance. Both holly and gorse are prickly shrubs that defend and protect. Both wands are attuned to fire as well as vibrancy and rebirth, and both have owners who show a tremendous capacity for forgiveness. If no ill-intent exists between you and Mr. Potter, then it is not unlikely that the wand would be nearly as good as your own.

Compatibility exists here, but you needn't worry. It can exist as well between the best of friends more often than the best of lovers. Congratulations on finding a kindred spirit.

Garrick Ollivander

There was nothing she could do but beam. And when Harry read the letter and gave her the shy smile in return, she knew everything was alright. They were really friends now.