A/N Seems like the chapter issue is over. At least, that's what they tell me. We'll see, wont we?

The next morning, a line of students and staff poured out of the great hall. People who'd never even looked at Hermione Granger cried whole heartedly over her death. A illusionary version of the Granger child sat on an ornate chair, waving to people as they past the closed coffin where her remains lay. Professor Dumbledore stood behind her to maintain the Illusions. The bright colours and festivity that covered the hall the night before were replaced with dark, somber banners emblazoned with the Gryffindor shield. Flitwick had charmed the Lions on the banners to shed tears, to emphasize the sadness in the air. The Auror that accompanied Madame Bones to the school was shocked that a student had been killed on school grounds. Amelia wasn't the happiest person either. The child that died was in the same year as her niece, as were the boys who were also attacked. The timing of it all didn't sit right with her either. The night before she and her Auror were set to arrive, three students attacked, two of them fatally. The Longbottom child would need a miracle to recover. Whatever the desired result of this attack was, she doubted that it involved a full out investigation by her people. But that's exactly what she had in mind.

"Kingsly," She took her Auror aside. "I want you to take as many statements as you can. Talk to every student you can get close to. Find out what happened. I'll go speak to Dumbledore." Amelia handed him an extra notebook. She, and most of her Aurors, preferred muggle notebooks and pens for field work. Much simpler than carrying about parchment and quills. Kingsly nodded and headed off for a group of 7th years. Amelia went straight for the headmaster, tapping her wand to charmed piece of sting that served as a simple communication devise. It alerted nine other Aurors that were waiting for the signal down in Hogsmeade. It was Amelia's 'The Shit Just HIt the Fan' signal. The Aurors jumped to order and made for Hogwarts. Amerlia approached Dumbledore.

"Ah, madame Bones. I'd forgotten you were set to arrive today. sadly, we've had a great tragedy hearer at Hogwarts. Perhaps a raincheck is order?" Dumbledore was a smooth talker, that much Amelia couldn't deny. She smiled sweetly.

"I'm afraid not, Albus. We need to take as many statements as possible. It's strange, but the DMLE wasn't informed of this accident last night? Why is that, Albus?"

"I assure you, had it been more than just an accident, I would have sent an owl out immediately. But it was simply an unfortunate set of events. No need for police. I must insist we reschedule your interviews with the children. Surely you understand that their grief from this disaster will affect their statements?" Dumbledore pushed. Amelia shook her head.

"No. We'll collect statements on your potions master and this event, today. I've already got Aurors on the task." The string in her pocket warmed, letting her know that the others had arrived. Kingsly was probably passing down orders as she spoke. Dumbledore didn't even try to hide his fronw.

"That's highly unethical, Amelia." his eyes twinkled. She glanced away, avoiding eye contact.

"Regardless, Albus, it's happening now. I'll be happy to take your statement on this, if you'd like." Another sweet smile. Dumbledore relented. She followed him back to his office, leaving her Aurors to do what needed to be done.

Kingsly filled another pensive vial. It surprised him just how many students were willing to come forward against their potions instructor. And the things they told him about those classes. He shuddered. How could this man still have a job? He conjured another vial, inserting the memory of a third year hufflepuff boy. Diggory, Amos's son. Even this upstanding young man, a boy Kingsly had never heard a negative thing from, had nothing good to say about Severus Snape. Pocekting the vial in a magically enlarged pocket, Kingsly continued his questions.

By the end of the day, the Aurors had gathered 473 memories for the pensive, 918 written statements, and 6 magical photos of the Potions class room. It blew Kingslys mind that the class had been moved to an underground room with no windows. What happened when something exploded? How were the students unable to cast bubble-headed charms supposed to escape without inhaling fumes? With these findings, Severus Snape would never work in the field of potions making again. Dumbledore would have to pull some mighty sting strings to keep his job as well, but as Chief Warlock, it wouldn't be a problem. For him, at least. Kingsly and the nine other Aurors carted the evidence back to the ministry. It was set to be a very long night of processing.

Amelia said her goodbyes to the Headmaster.

"I'll send you a copy of everything we collected today, Albus." She left, suppressing a smile. Dumbledore was furious. Snape was a valuable ally to have, but the way things were going, he was an ally Dumbledore would have to give up. A shame, really, given the man's connections with Voldemort. Once this case was thoroughly investigated, Snape would be on the chopping black for being a Death Eater. Even Dumbledore's upmost confidence wouldn't save him a second time, especially since children were involved. Dumbledore sighed. He needed a new Potions Master now. Perhaps Slughorn would still be up to teaching?

Ronald Weasley lay in his bed in the Gryffindor Dorms. He hadn't gone to her memorial service. He couldn't. He wasn't prepared to face the girl he'd murdered. Guilt seeped into every pore. Ron rolled over in his bed, trying not to cry again. That's all he could seem to do, ever since he woke up screaming. He didn't dare sleep. He'd have to watch it again. Watch that monster tear Hermione apart, devouring her. So much blood. Ron shivered. None of his dorm mates understood. They kept their distance now, anyway. Maybe they thought he'd kill them too? Ron sniffled a bit, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. He couldn't even bring himself to write home to mother, for advice. She's probably blame him as well. After all, he was a murderer.

Susan tried not to feel so happy, but even the death of a girl she didn't know couldn't quell her pleasure. Her Aunt had come through with her promise. Snape's days as a professor were numbered. Maybe now she'd learn something in that class?

Harry and Draco sat in the Ravenclaw common room, nose deep in their books. They didn't go to Hermione's memorial. They chose to grieve by secluding themselves in their own worlds, worlds where knowledge and power ended suffering and pain. Terry didn't bother going either. He'd offered to run to the kitchens for food, his main concern keeping the Black Brothers from falling to pieces. Anthony went, just so one of them could say they did. That, and he truly felt bad for the girl. She hadn't been well liked, or even well tolerated. But her memorial was full of people claiming how much they would miss her, and how they loved her. It made him sick. Her dorm mates were the worst, screeching and sobbing about their lost 'friend'. Anthony was only down there for an hour or so before he gave up and went back to the common room. Some people would do anything for attention.

As November wore on, the days growing colder and the nights growing longer, a sense of normalcy fell on Hogwarts. Old routines were picked up where they left off, and people continued along as if nothing ever happened. The only person still hung up on Granger's death was Ron Weasley, but no one paid him any mind. Even the twins were more focused on other things, choosing their next great prank over the well being of their youngest brother. Fred and George had finally found a way to Prank those Black brothers without breaking the truce. And the answer was nifflers.

"Are you sure? Nifflers?" Fred expressed his doubts. George gave him a confidant smile.

"Yes. We give Harry and his friends all special tokens of our esteem, as a peace offering. Those will be laced in gold and niftier pheromones. Then, we set nifflers one, two, and four on the Ravenclaw Dorms. Harry, Draco and the other two will be the only targets, cause of the pheromones, and they'll search for hours looking for niftier three, which doesn't exist." George thought it was brilliant. Fred was a little more skeptical.

"Why not just set the nifflers loose on the whole school? We don't need to prank them directly. More like… frame them." Fred was the real mind behind the twins. George was the muscle. It worked for them. George agreed to the revised plan.

A week later, George and Fred found themselves on the third floor, three peeved nifflers lousy restrained next to them. The nifflers each had a bright pink number dyed into their fur.

"Okay, let's find a room to release number one in, and get out of here. I have a bad feeling about this floor." Fred said, further loosening the binds on the first niffler. George pointed to a think wooden door.

"This one is unlocked. Let's see what's inside, shall we?" The twins pushed the door open. Time seemed to slow down for them. They opened the door and found themselves face to face with three large dogs. No. One large dog, three heads. They screamed. Dropping the first niffler, they ran. They didn't try to save it, it was far too late for niffler one. Quick levitation spells saved the other nifflers by milliseconds. Neither boy looked back as they ran screaming to the great hall.

"What, may I ask, are you two doing?" Oh no. McGonagall. The twins froze, still levitating nifflers two and four.

"Um…."

"Well?" She demanded. This was bad. They had no way to honestly explain their motives without mentioning the cerberus.

"Professor?" It was Anthony Goldstein. Three sets of eyes landed on him.

"Yes, Mister Goldstein?" McGonagall glared at him. The first year gulped.

"They were acting as a distraction for me. I was going to set up a prank in the great hall while you were busy with them." He said, shutting his eyes tightly. 'Please believe me' he thought desperately. He'd been coming back from the library when he'd overheard them. If they'd run into the same monster Harry had mentioned before, then he needed to speak with them.

"Very well. Detention for all of you. Tomorrow night, my office. Bring quills. Now get back to your dorms, before I start adding to it." She waved them off. Surprised that she didn't escort them back, the twins turned to Anthony.

"Why would a wee ickle firstie," One started

"Stick up for us?" The other finished.

"Because, judging by your girlish screams of terror, " Anthony's stare dared them to do something, " You tow saw the same thing Harry saw. A cerberus." Fred paled. George took the offensive.

"And what if we did see a cerberus?"

"Then you should meet us in the library tomorrow after classes, just before our detention. Harry has an idea."Anthony turned and left, leaving the twins to gawk at each other. This could very well be interesting for them.

The next day.

The four Ravenclaws sat a crossed from their Gryffindor elders.

"So, what's this about a cerberus on the third floor?" Fred asked. Harry and Draco glanced at each other.

"We think it's protecting something. Did you see the trap door?" SInce his own first encounter, harry had gone back with drake to get a better look. That's when they noticed the door covered by a giant paw. Neither twin had seen it though, as was confirmed by their confused looks.

"What about it?"

"We want to know what through that door. So, we propose a challenge." Anthony said. The twins raised one eye brow each.

"Oh?" George could barely contain his excitement from being issued a challenge. He lived for such things.

"First group to get throughout the door wins. Easy as that." Terry put his hands on the table. Fred and George looked at each other, conversing in a way only twins could.

"What if there's more door? What if it's a whole chamber of doors and challenges?" George asked. Harry frowned.

"We hadn't thought of that. I guess…. I guess that the first one to make it all the way through wins." This worked for every one there. With a couple of nods and hand shakes, the game was on.

Later, after Anthony and the Twins had shuffled off to their detention with McGonagall, Harry made his way to the groundskeeper's shack.

"Harry!" The cheerful half giant greeted him with another bone crushing hug.

"Hey Hagrid. I've come to ask you something." Harry looked worried. Hagrid frowned.

"It's no abou' what happened to tha Ganger girl, is it?" Hagrid led him inside, setting him down on an oversized couch. Harry nodded.

"That, and Fluffy. What happens if he breaks loose?If he decides he need a first year snack? If-" Harry's panic was cut off.

"Now don' yeh worry 'bout that, Harry. Fluffy ain't no harm to yeh. He's sweet as a pie, and a real music lover to boot. One song, he's ou' like a light." Hagrid gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. It felt more like a punch to Harry, but the meaning wasn't lost on him.

"Th-thanks Hagrid. I was really scared." Harry was being honest. He had other reasons, of course, but his fear was genuine."Why's there a cerberus in a school, anyway?"

"Tha's none of your business, Harry. That's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel, yeh hear?" Harry nodded, knowing better than to question Hagrid further. It didn't dawn on the large man how important the information he'd just given to an 11-year-old was. The unusual pair enjoyed a cup of luke warm tea and some rock biscuits, then Hagrid escorted Harry back to his common room. It took Harry less than a minute to gather his friends, except Anthony, and tell them what he'd learned.

"Music, huh? Damn. None of us know how to sing or play an instrument." Terry bite his lip.

"Maybe Anthony does, or knows an alternative. But who is Nicolas Flamel?" Draco turned to Harry, who shrugged.

"The name is familiar, but I can't unite place it. Research time?" Nods from all around. The challenge just took a very interesting turn.

December

Harry sighed, slamming the book shut. At this rate, it would be well into spring time before they found any answers. Not one book in the library had anything on Nicolas Flamel. They didn't bother asking Madame Prince, as she was more likely to screech at them about proper care of her precious book. The library in the common room didn't have any answers either. Draco put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"It's only been a week. We'll find something, eventually. I mean, look how easy it was to find a music source?" They'd found out after Anthony had returned from that he knew how to play Violin. Something about being a proper Jewish young man, and his somewhat crazy grandmother. Either way, it worked in their favour.

"I know," Harry sighed again, "It's just so frustrating, having this information on the tip of my tongue and not being able to remember it."

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong places." Terry said, looking up from his tome on famous wizards of the last 500 years.

"What do you mean?" Anthony leaned over the table and his own book on dangerous beasts. Better safe than cerberus food.

"Well, Hagrid said it was between Flamel and Dumbledore, right?" Many nods pushed Terry to continue, "So why not look up the headmaster himself?" It was simple, but brilliant. The boys paused to stare at each other, basking in Terry's idea. Then they broke, each going to the far reaches of the library shelves in search of material on their all knowing headmaster. It didn't take long for them to find stuff. Harry made it back to the table first, carrying 2 books featuring Dumbledore. He'd barely begun to read when Draco arrived, 3 books of his own.

"Seems the headmaster likes himself quite a bit, no?" Draco said. Harry laughed and went back to his book. When Anthony and Terry returned, both carrying 5 book each, Harry saw the narcissism Draco had mentioned. Only one of the book was written by Dumbledore himself, but they all had entire chapters devoted to him.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. What a mouth full." Draco laughed. The other boys smiled, and Draco continued. "Best known for his discovery of twelve uses for dragon's blood and work in Alchemy with Nicolas Flamel." Suddenly, all four boys were crowded around the book. Draco turned to a reference page for Flamel.

"Nicolas Flamel, and his wife Perenelle, are the only known creators of the Philosopher's Stone, an ancient and power artifact know for it's abilities for turning iron to gold and for creating an elixir of life." Draco read the last words very slowly. already, the gears in Harry's head were turning at high speeds. If the stone could do what he hoped it could, the little game with the twins just became a game of life or death.