HARRY POTTER
AND THE PRINCE OF SLYTHERIN

Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.

CHAPTER 20: The Student-Teacher Conference

Minutes later...

To his mild surprise, Snape found Harry sitting in his usual chair in the Potions lab, softly banging his head against his desk. He sighed. "Mr. Potter. I don't believe that you have any detentions assigned to me, so I assume you have some information to share which you think is too vital to wait until Monday. Out with it."

The boy stopped banging his head but didn't lift it up from the desk. "Beneath the trap door guarded by Fluffy the Cerberus lay a series of rooms, each with a trap designed by one of the Hogwarts professors. Specifically and in order, by Sprout, Flitwick, McGongall, Quirrell, and yourself. And in the last room is Nicholas Flamel's fabled Philosopher's Stone which Professor Quirrell wants to steal." He finally raised his head and looked dully at Snape. "And The Git-Who-Lived knows all about it."

Snape shook his head in resignation and sat down at his desk. "How?"

"Hagrid. A few details from Theo that only hastened the inevitable, but mainly Hagrid. He. Just. Would. Not. Shut. Up! I'm surprised he's not up in the Astronomy Tower right now with a megaphone, blaring out the secret of how to get past the Cerberus!"

Snape leaned forward. "Did he ...?"

"No, but only because I made a big scene and stormed out in such a way that everyone followed me. I'm sure Jim and Ron will go back and get it out of him later. Mind you, I don't even see how getting past Fluffy is any big deal to begin with."

The Potions Master raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. So have you figured out the secret for neutralizing the Cerberus?"

"No, but unlike some people I could name, I'm not a powerful homicidal wizard who has infiltrated Hogwarts in order to steal the Philosopher's Stone. If I were, I'm pretty sure I would just use the Killing Curse on Fluffy and then get on with it."

"Ah, the direct approach. Unfortunately for us, Potter, the enemy is more knowledgeable than you. Hogwarts' wards would instantly detect a Killing Curse cast within the castle and alert not only every faculty member to the location where it was used, but also the DMLE. The beast is highly magic resistant, and no spell less potent than the Killing Curse would easily kill it. There is only one way to overcome the hellhound and reach the trapdoor without sounding the alarm and only Hagrid and the Headmaster know what it is."

"Have you considered Obliviating Hagrid?"

"One point deducted for your cheek, Potter. Do not mock the Hogwarts staff, not even Hagrid. We all have our roles to play."

"Well, I'm sorry, sir, but I'm a bit upset, as I have friends who I now feel are in genuine danger. I was willing to ignore the troll as a simple diversion that got out of hand, but Quirrell has just demonstrated his willingness to murder a student in front of several thousand witnesses. Granted, it was Jim Potter, but he's still a Hogwarts student. And while I may not care about the Git's fate, two of my best friends are caught up in his orbit and are potential victims if they get drawn into his ... adventures," Harry's voice dripped with contempt on the last word.

"You are not responsible for the fate of those who will not listen to your reasoned advice, Potter. If it is any comfort, that was a hard lesson for me to learn as well. Encourage your friends to avoid Quirrell and to resist being drawn into the Other Potter's foolishness. That is all you can reasonably hope to achieve."

"Sir, I might be more confident about this whole situation if I could see any sense to it. Why even hide the Stone in a school in the first place? I'm eleven and I can think of better protections for the Philosopher's Stone sticking in Hogwarts behind a gauntlet of traps."

"Really, Potter?" sneered the Potions Master. "You actually think yourself more clever and intelligent than the entire Hogwarts faculty put together? Such hubris is unbecoming of you."

The boy grimaced and shook his head. "I don't think anything of the sort, Professor Snape. But I have read the reports about the defeat of You-Know-Who and the role Sirius Black played in it. Consequently, I am alsoaware of a little thing called the Fidelius Charm which provides absolute protection so long as you aren't stupid enough to share the secret of what you're hiding with your enemy. If Nicholas Flamel had really wanted the Stone protected, he'd have hidden it at the bottom of his sock drawer, cast the Fidelius with his wife as Secret Keeper, and let that be the end of it."

Snape did not respond. The silence in the room barely lasted barely three seconds, but it seemed like an eternity before the boy finally spoke again.

"Which is, of course, exactly what he did!" Harry said with rising annoyance. "The true Stone is hidden away under a Fidelius while the Headmaster makes a grand show of constructing elaborate traps around a convincing fake. He even announces what room it's in at the Opening Feast while standing ten feet away from Quirrell, since exposing Quirrell is actually the entire point of this whole exercise!" Harry exhaled in visible anger. "Professor Snape, who is this man? The upper year students remember Quirrell as a likeable and well-spoken Muggle Studies professor and certainly not a stammering cold-blooded killer. Is it some imposter impersonating Quirrell or has he... been ..."

The boy trailed off, his eyes slowly widening. The Potions Master had let Harry talk out of curiosity as to how much he could deduce on his own. Snape had submitted to Dumbledore's orders that he not warn his Slytherins of the true nature of the threat stalking the halls of Hogwarts, but nothing in his vow prevented him from subtly confirming or denying the hypotheses of his more intelligent students. After nearly ten seconds, however, he became mildly concerned at the boy's seeming paralysis and so exercised a power he rarely used, despite what the more paranoid Hogwarts parents might believe: Legilimency. The results were unexpected, as Snape had never before encountered someone who outwardly wore a masque of calm tranquility while screaming hysterically on the inside.

"OH GOD! IT'S VOLDEMORT! VOLDEMORT'S NOT DEAD! VOLDEMORT'S POSSESSING THE DADA INSTRUCTOR! THAT'S WHY HIS PERSONALITY HAS CHANGED! VOLDEMORT IS TRYING TO STEAL THE STONE TO GET A NEW BODY AND HAS POSSESSED QUIRRELL TO GET IT! THAT'S WHY JIM AND I HURT WHEN QUIRRELL TURNS AROUND – BECAUSE VOLDEMORT IS PROBABLY STARING AT US OUT OF THE BACK OF QUIRRELL'S HEAD LIKE AN EVIL PUSTULE OF DOOM AND QUIRRELL WEARS A TURBAN TO HIDE HIS DOOM PIMPLE AND HE TRIED TO KILL JIM OUT OF REVENGE FOR 1981 AND HE'LL TRY TO KILL ME BECAUSE I ALREADY PROVED I CAN TAKE DOWN A TROLL AND ALSO JIM AND I LOOK ALIKE AND VOLDEMORT'S AN EVIL INSANE MORON WHO WON'T BE ABLE TO TELL US APART AND ...!"

"POTTER!" barked Snape. "Get a hold of yourself!"

Harry abruptly shook his head and blinked several times, as Snape rose and moved to where the boy sat. The Professor reached into his voluminous robes and pulled out a potion, which he handed to Harry. "Drink this. It's a Calming Draught."

Harry took the potion cautiously and looked up at his professor. "I wasn't aware I needed calming, sir," he said shakily.

"Indeed, Potter. I've never before seen someone demonstrate such external composure while having an internal panic attack. Drink."

Harry pulled the stopper and downed the potion in one gulp. Then, he frowned as he considered the implications of what Snape had just said. "You can read my thoughts," he said. It was neither a question nor an accusation, merely an observation.

"Yes," Snape said after some hesitation, "when necessary. It is an obscure and difficult skill known as Legilimency. I would reassure you that I only rarely use it on students, though since you have no means of detecting it or even defending against it save through completely avoiding eye contact, you would be foolish and naive to believe me."

"Right. And who else can do this ... Legilimency?"

"I really couldn't say."

Harry looked Snape directly in the eye and thought as clearly as he could. "Because you don't know? Or because you're under an oath not to reveal?"

Snape's mouth twisted into something that was almost but not quite a smile. "Both," he said aloud. "I can say that, as far as I know, Professor Quirrell lacks this ability, but if he should turn his back to you, it might be wise to avoid looking directly at the back of his head. Or, indeed, in his general direction."

"Oookay. Is there any better defense to Legilimency than that?"

Snape regarded the boy for a moment. Then, without another word, he turned and left through the door to his office, returning a moment latter with a small leather bound book which he handed to Harry. The boy crooked an eyebrow as he regarded the cover.

"Great Potion Masters of the Holy Roman Empire?" he read in confusion.

Snape gave him a 'don't be stupid' look. "The cover is transfigured, Potter, as it is not something you should be seen reading by the casual observer. Though not illegal, the mystic art known as Occlumency is frowned upon by most authority figures since a Master Occlumens can potentially overcome the effects of Veritaserum and other magical techniques for discerning the truth in a court of law."

Harry nodded and opened the book. The title page read Occlumency: The Moste Hidden Arte. "Occlumency. And that will help me to shield my thoughts against Professor Quirrell?"

"No," Snape said bluntly. "It is fantastically unlikely that you will be able to develop even the most rudimentary Occlumency shields before the Quirrell situation resolves itself one way or another. Consider this more of a long term self-enrichment project. While the text will be immediately useful in improving memory and defending against some more obvious psychic attacks, it will likely take you a minimum of two to three years of consistent study and practice before you can reliably defend yourself against any competent Legilimens."

"Two ... to three ... years. Great. No shortcuts at all?"

Snape looked thoughtful. "There is one rather ... extreme alternative approach." Then, he shrugged. "Sometimes, it even works."

"Sometimes?"

"Yes. Approximately one out of every twelve or so wizards is able to spontaneously develop a form of natural Occlumency often in as little as a month or two in response to regular exposure to high level Legilimency attacks. That is actually how I was first introduced to the discipline as I am one of those rare individuals."

Harry nodded. "And the other eleven or so?"

"They waste their time writhing around on the floor clutching their heads in agony while simultaneously being forced to relive their most painful and humiliating memories."

The boy blinked a few times. "I'll try the book first."

"A wise decision. And remember, what you have deduced cannot be shared with others, lest the enemy have a greater pool of unprotected minds from which he can learn of our plans for him. Do not speak of it. To the extent possible, do not even think upon it."

Harry nodded solemnly. He knew what was at stake now. "Voldemort is alive – well, for some definitions of 'alive.' Voldemort is possessing a Hogwarts professor. Voldemort is after the Philosopher's Stone. And Dumbledore and most of the staff know about it and have a plan for dealing with him, hopefully for good. So all I have to do is keep a bunch of hyperactive Gryff's from interfering and cocking things up. No problem." Harry resisted the impulse to start banging his head on his desk again in despair.

Later that night, Harry was alone in the common room reviewing the book Snape had given him. When asked, he told the other Slytherins that it was an extra credit assignment for Binns because he was worried about his inability to stay awake in the ghost's History class. Having made his way through the first six chapters, Harry decided to call it a night and put the book away when he noticed something unusual in his book bag: a folded and wax-sealed piece of parchment he had never seen before but which had his name printed on the outside. The lettering was in a plain generic script and appeared to have been engraved through magic rather than handwritten. He cast the few diagnostic spells he knew on it, and all of them came up negative. Which, of course, merely meant that if the paper was cursed, it had been done by someone higher than a First Year. Harry exhaled. Paranoia had been getting to him, but there were obviously easier ways to hex him than via a mysterious letter stuffed into his book bag.

With a shrug, he sliced through the wax seal with his wand and opened the letter. On the inside were six words in the same bland script followed by a question mark, words that meant nothing to him but definitely piqued his curiosity. And immediately after Harry read the question, the paper disintegrated in flash of green fire, without even leaving any ash or residue behind. Just a six-word question now stuck in Harry's mind:

"Who Is The Prince of Slytherin?"