Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish I did.

Chapter Nineteen: Snakes

Quirrell smiled slightly and motioned for Harry to follow him, and they set off down the halls. Harry felt the urge to keep his eyes averted from Quirrell, for whatever strange reason, and simply watched his feet. Residual embarrassment, he supposed.

Neither of them talked the entire way there, and it was only once they reached the door to the classroom did Quirrell pipe up. "A-after y-y-you Mr. P-P-Potter," he said, as graciously as possible, waving Harry inside. Harry gave a small smile and stepped around Quirrell and into the classroom. Aside from Professor Snape, Quirrell was the only teacher who had talked to him outside of class. He felt awkward.

"Sh-shame we d-didn't h-have you in h-h-h-here m-m-more," stuttered Quirrell. "Y-you m-m-missed a f-f-few p-practical lessons." Quirrell gave a nervous little titter, and motioned Harry up a flight of stairs that lead to his office. "W-we'll get y-you c-c-caught u-up, though."

Quirrell opened the door to the office and again motioned Harry to lead the way. "A-after y-you, M-Mr. P-P-Potter."

The office was very small compared to the classroom outside it. It was cluttered with bits of parchment, strewn hither and yawn. A few animal skeletons sat about on perches and stands. In the back of the room sat a great big cage, housing the biggest Iguana Harry had ever seen. Harry sidestepped a pile of books and found his way to a chair, which was thankfully empty of parchment, and so he sat down immediately.

Quirrell followed after him, smiling blithely. The turbaned professor sat behind the desk, and pulled out his wand. Harry gave a nervous flinch as Quirrell flicked it in his direction.

A tea kettle and two cups soared out from behind him and landed with a soft thump on the desk. Another casual flick set the kettle whistling. Harry watched all of this, intrigued and fascinated by how easy Quirrell had done these things. He was so enraptured, he didn't notice that Quirrell's eyes never left him. The same hungry look never wavered.

Snape settled into his chair, holding a few bound reams of parchment; The Potion Master's Paper. He flipped through it in a bored fashion. There was nothing of any great interest. Anything considered important wasn't to him, and everything else was just drivel anyway. He had thought, when the journal had arrived, of making Harry something of a test case. The thought was wiped completely out of his mind by a stab of utter revulsion. Not only was it immoral, but the boy hardly needed any more celebrity.

He didn't expect Harry to come in until much later. The boy would assuredly spend most of the day with his friends. Snape tossed the journal onto his desk, where it landed with a dull thump of finality. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, though he was wide awake. What had he gotten into, letting Harry just get into his house. School hadn't even been open a month, and already he'd been attacked. How much more was he going to have to endure.

Seemingly in response, his fire flashed green, and Dumbledore's voice floated out of the merry crackle. "Severus, come up to my office, if you would."

Snape wondered slightly at the fact that the old Headmaster's head was not in the fire, just his voice. Most unusual. "Yes, sir," said Snape, again rubbing his eyes. He'd just settled in. "I'm expecting Mr. Potter, though."

"That's what I need to speak to you about," said Dumbledore, and the fire returned to it's normal colour, cutting off any retort Snape had. He stood up and left his office in a huff. Dumbledore always had the last word.

Harry sipped his tea slowly. Quirrell had left his own untouched.

"H-h-how are y-you g-g-getting on?" asked Quirrell , a slight smile set on his face. It gave Harry the creeps for some reason. He was doing nothing but being friendly. Harry supposed he was just so used to Snape's scowl that he wasn't used to someone smiling.

"Oh, um, fine, sir," said Harry. "I'm doing much better now."

Quirrell nodded. "I-I-I how s-s-so, M-Mr. P-P-Potter." His smile never flickered. "H-how d-d-do you l-l-like it in S-S-Slytherin?"

Harry gave a noncommittal shrug, then remembered he was talking to a teacher, and sat up much straighter. "It's okay, sir."

Quirrell tilted his head forward. "N-no m-m-more t-tr-troubles?"

"No, sir." Harry gave a slight smile, which clouded over. "Well, not from the Slytherins." Quirrell raised one eyebrow, and motioned that Harry continue.

"Well, sir, the Gryffindors don't seem to like me very much. Not that I care what they think, but still..." Harry trailed off, running his finger around the rim of his half empty mug.

"H-h-house r-ri-rivalries," said Quirrell. "I-I rather e-ex-expect they w-w-were h-h-hoping y-you'd get s-s-sorted into G-Gryfendor."

"Where should I have gone, sir?" asked Harry, his brow knitted together. "I get gawked at no matter what."

"Y-yes, b-but S-S-Slytherin will t-teach y-y-you h-h-how to use it t-to your ad-advantage, Mr. Potter. You could become great, you know."

For the first time, Harry saw the look of hunger in Quirrill's eyes. It frightened him so much that he didn't even notice the Defense teacher's sudden lack of a stutter.

"I-I have to go, sir. Professor Snape is expecting me."

Before Quirrell could get another word in, Harry bolted from the room.

Snape arrived at the Headmaster's office in a few short minuets. He thought back, and scratched his chin. What was the password again? "Ah," he said aloud. "Liquorish Wand," he said promptly. The Gargoyle remained steadfast. "Damn."

"Ah, there you are, Severus," said Dumbledore, and Snape jumped. Much like the floo call, Snape could not see the old headmaster, and it unnerved him slightly. However, there was little mystery, as the Gargoyle then moved aside, and Dumbledore motioned for Snape to follow him back up to his office.

Snape rode the staircase up to the door, and walked in when Dumbledore opened it.

"Do take a seat, Severus," offered Dumbledore, moving to sit behind his desk.

"That was an interesting trick with the Floo earlier," said Snape, settling into a chair in front of the headmaster's desk.

"Oh, did you like that? A little invention of my own. Getting onto one's hands and knees can be very bothersome as one gets older."

"You have too much free time, old man," retorted Snape. "Don't you have a school to run?"

"Alas, my work is easily done, and I find myself growing bored from time to time. Forgive an old man his hobbies." Dumbledore's smile grew slightly. "Now, onto more pressing matters. I have it from Sir Cadagon-"

"That old nutter of a knight? The one that hangs on the third floor?" asked Snape, incredulous that the batty painting served any other purpose than to annoy people.

"The very same. I enlisted his help due to his uncanny knowledge of the layout of the Castle, but we're straying from the point. I have had him following Harry lately, as a nice set of eyes and ears. It just so happens that Quirrell has invited Harry to his office."

"Quirrell?" balked Snape. "The one you wanted me to keep an eye out for all bloody year so this exact thing wouldn't happen?"

Dumbledore nodded. "However, I think it is much too early for Voldemort to try anything. So soon after Harry's...incident..." Dumbledore's eyes lost their twinkle. "This would put to much strain on his plans."

"But, what does he mean to do, then, if not attack him?" asked Snape, clearly disgusted for the Headmaster's seeming omnipotence. That, or his seeming total disregard for the safety of the students based on a guess.

"Well, given his House..." began Dumbledore, cautiously.

Snape realized where the conversation was going, and jumped to his feet. "You!" he snarled, unable to find words for his contempt. To his immense satisfaction, Dumbledore flinched. Snape was glad that the old man couldn't read his mind.

"How dare you presume that just because he is in my House that he might get drawn in by Quirrell!" shouted Snape, and he had a sudden urge to leap over the desk and throttle the old man. "You refuse to know Potter on any sort of level. To you he's just another Slytherin, isn't he? Another green and silver tie? You wouldn't be this presumptuous if he was in Gryffindor, would you? Even a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw would be fine, but no, he's a Slyterhin, and there goes all respect, doesn't it?"

Dumbledore's jaw was set, and his eyes refused their twinkle in favor of a hard glare. "Severus," he said, his voice no louder than it had been, but it had an edge to it that raised the fine hair on the back of Snape's neck. "Sit down."

Snape sat as though impurioused. He continued to glare at the old man.

"I will not have you raging and storming at me in my office," said Dumbledore, his eyes flashing. Especially about the welfare and treatment of my students."

Snape snorted derisively. "Welfare and treatment? This year alone he was beaten half to death by another student. Hardly fitting welfare. As for treatment, I saw your smile drop when the sorting hat called out his House. Don't pretend for an instant that you expected him to end up there, or that wouldn't have preferred him a Gryffindor."

Dumbledore stopped looking as furious, and more like very tired old man. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a sudden commotion. Sir Cadagon bustled, clanking, into a large picture frame leaning against the wall, huffing and puffing, and holding a stitch in his side through his armor.

"Headmaster," he wheezed. "The young Mr. Potter has just left Professor Quirrell's office. He looked rather frightened."

Without another word, Snape stood up and left the room. He would listen to Dumbledore's feeble apologies or accusations later. Right now, one of his Snakes was in distress.

Dumbledore watched him go with a frown.

AN: Ok, here it is, the long awaited next chapter in the fic. This is getting rather lengthy, I must say. Much farther than I thought it would get, anyway. Well, cheers, I suppose. Working on the next chapter already.