In later years, my nephew would confide the experience to be a turning point in his perception, not only of himself, but also of those around him. It was the first time in the boy's young life when the skills he so painfully nurtured had failed so utterly.

Raised by a man who prized independent strength so highly, Harry found his Professor's words all the more foreign.

United they stand, divided they fall. Strange words indeed to one raised by Sherlock Holmes. Failure though, is a bitter tonic, and one he was not intent on tasting soon again.

Excerpt from A Study in Magic, by John Watson, MD

-oOo-

"Well," said Harry, "I think we can all agree that was a little pathetic."

The seven students left the Defense classroom in single file, and winced as the door slammed shut with a depressing air of finality. They turned to Harry and nodded or shrugged in varying degrees of embarrassed acceptance. All but one.

Zacharias crossed his arms and sneered. "Yeah? Well I didn't hear Quirrell singing your praises, Potter. What'd you do, anyway? Stand back and let Longbottom do all the work?"

Pretty much, thought Harry. "Actually," he said, "Neville did a bang up job. He distracted the professor and gave me a chance to make a break with the treasure."

Zacharias let out a short, crowing laugh. "So you ran! Is that it?"

"What do you want, Zack? Want me to take a leaf from your book? Just charge in and take Quirrell out? In case you haven't noticed, we're first-years and he's a Defense Professor."

As he spoke, Harry saw resignation start to bleed into the student's faces, Hermione's in particular. "Listen," he said, "Inside that house Quirrell holds all the cards. Cheap spell tricks won't cut it. He doesn't even need the counter-spell, for crying out loud! Quirrell's got enough power to outright cancel anything we cast."

Harry shook his head. "Even if you get a sphere you've only got one option. Run. That's it. Not that it makes a difference with that floor plan. With those tiny hallways, he doesn't even have to chase you, he's got an easy shot right at your back."

"Then how are we supposed to win?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah!" said Susan, "He's cheating!"

"I don't know about cheating," said Harry, "But I do know he doesn't want us to keep losing. It's like any other test. He doesn't want us to fail, he wants us to learn."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"I mean he already told us how to win this."

Zacharias pierced the first-years' excitement with a scoff. "Yeah?" he asked, hands on hips, "Then why don't you let us in on it?"

"United they stand," replied Harry, "That's what he said. As if that house plan wasn't enough of a hint, he flat out gave us the clue to beating him. We just have to work together." Harry gave Zacharias a deliberate look. "All of us."

Zacharias rolled his eyes, but couldn't stifle his curiosity, or his want to win. "So...you got a plan?"

"I'll work something out tonight," answered Harry, "Tomorrow after dinner we'll all meet in the library to look it over. See if it needs any adjustments. We can use that big table by the back."

Zacharias slouched away, speaking over his shoulder. "I'm a little too old for play dates, Potter." He turned a corner and was gone.

Hermione practically had steam coming from her ears. "That...that boy is absolutely insufferable! How is he supposed to be Hufflepuff?"

"We're all embarrassed," said Harry, "He just lets it show more." He turned to Susan and Hannah. "You two will come, right?"

Hannah looked down and nodded. Susan playfully slapped his shoulder, hard enough to elicit a wince. "We'll be there!" she said. "We first-years gotta stick together, right?" Susan pulled Hannah off in the direction of the Great Hall, and waved goodbye. "See ya' then!"

Harry rubbed his sore shoulder as the remaining students waved back, then turned to Luna.

"And you?"

Luna gently poked his shoulder. "You should be careful, scabtruckles are attracted to wounded celebrities."

Harry waited for the joke's punch line. It didn't come.

"But yes," she continued, "I'll be sure to join you tomorrow. I've always wanted to plot someone's downfall."

"Uh...actually, 'plot' might be a little-"

But Luna was already gone. Harry, Neville, and Hermione watched her slight form fairly glide up a staircase.

Harry cleared his throat and faced his companions. "So, lunch?"

The two nodded, and they all set off. Hermione trailed slightly behind, wearing a look of bewilderment.

"Something wrong, Hermione?" asked Harry.

The girl was chewed her lower lip. "It's Luna."

"What about her?"

Hermione sighed with exasperation. She pointed to the staircase her flighty partner had taken. "Just to be clear, the Professor wants me to be more like that?"

Harry's laughter echoed through the empty hallway.

-oOo-

The Boy Who Lived spent the remainder of the day in the library, alone with his thoughts. He enjoyed working in that there, surrounded by words of wizard's long past. Sometimes he imagined their voices as whispers that slipped from between the pages.

At least, he thought they were imagined, it was hard to tell at Hogwarts.

Before him was a piece of parchment. On it, to the best of his knowledge, was a simple blueprint of the house in which Quirrell tested the Defense Club. The details weren't exact, but that was expected from working with second-hand knowledge.

Harry had questioned Hermione first, and then Susan about the respective routes they'd each taken. He was pleasantly surprised by the amount his classmates remembered. From there, it had been simple to devise a plan. He was confident with the cooperation of seven people, the retrieval of at least one sphere was nearly guaranteed.

Professor Quirrell had clearly designed that house with a winning scenario, Harry was sure of it. It was too simple, and seemed custom-tailored for the amount of students. Whatever the case, Quirrell could not be everywhere at once. With that knowledge, Harry slept easy.

-oOo-

The next day was standard fare, but for a minor incident in Herbology class.

"The key is not to frighten them. If they're scared, don't be surprised if they try to take a bite of your fingers."

Harry paid close attention as Professor Sprout nimbly maneuvered food into the plant's "mouth". The day's lesson revolved around a carnivorous plant commonly known as the Peruvian Pixie Trap. The professor stood next to the moderately sized shrub, carefully placing bits of raw meat into a flattened maw that sprouted from the top.

"Now," said Sprout, "Have a go, and remember! Nice, slow movements."

Harry looked into his bucket of raw meat, wondering exactly how this factored into his education. He looked at his two greenhouse partners. Neville looked oddly at ease, while Hermione stared sickly at the pail of meat.

The girl nervously chattered and kept a close eye on the nearest plant, which seemed to be showing her an unusual amount of interest. "We have to use our hands? Why don't we have gloves? Isn't that unsanitary? How hard can they bite, anyway?" She looked at her finger with newfound protectiveness.

Harry was mildly surprised when Neville plunged his hand into the meat bucket. The squelchy sounds turned Hermione a faint shade of green. When he pulled out a bloody chunk of something (organ, Harry thought), she turned away with a retch.

"You okay?" asked Harry.

Hermione nodded, and took deep breathe before turning back. She was just in time to see the Pixie Trap snap down on the proffered meat. Blood spattered onto Neville's face, and the boy watched in undisguised wonder as the plant happily munched away.

Another retch, and Hermione bolted from the greenhouse with a hand clamped over her mouth.

The plant settled down with a content rustle and Neville turned around, grinning widely. "Where'd Hermione go?" he asked, glancing around, "Wasn't she just here?"

Harry coughed and hid his smile behind a hand. "She'll be back in a minute. Wasn't feeling well."

Neville nodded, grabbed another piece of meat, and moved on to another Pixie Trap.

Through the glass Harry could see the distant form of Hermione Granger. She strode determinedly (if a bit wobbly), and looked considerably paler. She walked through the greenhouse doors and fixed the nearest plant with a death-glare. That particular plant was, in fact, a perfectly ordinary shrub.

-oOo-

Before he knew it, the day was over, and Harry pushed away his dinner plate with a smack of the lips. Hogwarts certainly pulled no punches when it came to feeding it's ravenous student hoards. Harry eyed a dish of chilled caviar, surprised yet again by how ill-suited much of the cuisine seemed for small children. Foe Gras, perhaps, but not a single plate of macaroni and cheese in sight.

Beside him, Neville also pushed his plate away. Hermione had finished long ago, content with a light supper after the horrors of Herbology.

"Ready?" asked Harry, glancing at each of his associates.

Neville took a last swig of pumpkin juice. "Yep."

"Then off we go," said Harry, stepping away from the table, "To plan and plot."

Neville followed with a grin. Hermione brought up the rear with a roll of her eyes.