Chapter 23: On the Making of Heroes

"Heroes happen because somebody made a mistake."
Remark attributed to US Army battalion commander, Desert Storm

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In the years that followed, Harry was never quite able to explain how he managed to get through exams without failing.

It wasn't the practical parts that gave him trouble. Actually, he was usually one of the fastest in his classes—with the exception of Potions—to be able to cast a spell. The problem lay in the theoretical portions of the class that mostly revolved around a great deal of speculation about how magic worked and very few facts.

Exactly why theory was necessary—Hermione insisted it was, though he continued to nurse his doubts—he wasn't certain. From the way things were graded the Professors seemed inclined to agree with her over Harry, which meant excellent practical magic scores or no, he needed help.

So with Hermione coaching him in transfiguration and Padma coaching him in charms, and Tonks covering both as she reviewed the basics for her upcoming .T.s, Harry felt fairly confident in those two subjects. He was less so about Defense Against the Dark Arts since Quirrell's stutter, which had made him difficult to understand at the beginning of the year, now made him utterly incomprehensible. Still, he took the time to sit down with the textbook in slowly matched up sections with notes taken from the more comprehensible part of Quirrell's lessons, and then went digging through his copy of the Encyclopedia Magica and the Hufflepuff library for further detail.

Likewise, credit was due to Allie and her potion revisions in which even Hermione followed along. Snape, who had been unpleasant at the start of the year, now took points left and right as he loomed over Harry in Double Potions, and seemed intent on returning the spread of House Points to what Malfoy had briefly had them set at.

The Professors hadn't thrown them right into the exams, of course. Even Snape, who seemed just the kind of teacher to do such a thing, refrained—likely Hermione was right in her speculation that he didn't want to risk any of them being held back a year. Later, as Harry was using a pineapple to practice up for the charms final by first levitating it and then making it sashay across his desk, an explosion shook the castle marking Neville's first exploding cauldron of the pre-exam revisions.

Binns' historiographical monologing took on a feverish pace as he tried to repeat an entire year's worth of goblin rebellions and giant uprisings. McGonagall had them transfigure rats into hatboxes and gave points for how pretty the hatbox was, but took points if it had whiskers.

"Ron had a great deal of trouble with that one," Hermione said later. With only three days left before exams, most of the first year Hufflepuff and Gryffindor dorms, plus a number of Ravenclaws, were crammed into one of the Hufflepuff Sett's practice potion labs working on the Forgetfulness potion again. Harry had deliberately led them in via one of the burrows since their entrances, like most of Hogwarts, were wont to move around without warning and would make it difficult for the other students to find their way back into the sett.

"It turned out exactly like I meant to," Ron insisted, though he didn't sound particularly convincing, Harry thought.

"It still looked exactly like a rat!" Hermione said. "Even when you opened it up."

"Eww," Hannah said, wrinkling her nose. "Who'd want to put their hat where a rat's lungs were?"

"I thought it'd be funny," Ron said stubbornly as the tips of his ears turned pink. "You know, you have a hat-box sitting around only people don't recognize it and see a rat. How'd you do, Harry?"

"Full marks," Harry said. "It had a nice silver-grey color, which she liked, but the top blended in so well it took her a minute to open it. Well, find it and then open it. Allie?"

"I had a first-rate education in the internal anatomy of rats before I was able to create a hatbox," Allie said mildly from where she was paying close attention to Neville. "Rat bits everywhere. Fur, guts, blood…amazing how much blood can be splashed around after you blow up the first three or four."

"Dozen," Parvati whispered from where she was working next to Harry.

"I heard that 'Vati."

"Don't call me 'Vati," Parvati hissed.

"Of course, when I actually did make a hatbox, in addition to whiskers, it had four paws, a tail, and a fondness for cheddar," Allie finished. "Neville, stop, remember the mnemonic."

"Forgetfulness potion is UNFORGETTABLE," Neville said. "I just finished stirring, that's the Thirteen Turns, so Armadillo Bile…no wait, Adjust the fire, then the Bile of a 'dillo."

"And bile is a…?"

Harry glanced at Hermione in time to see her bite her lip and tighten her grip on her potion knife. Snape had been particularly vicious in his description of what would happen to people who 'flail around with a necessary piece of equipment' back at the beginning of the year. Keeping her hand on it was her way of stopping herself from raising her hand. So despite her temptation to raise her hand or blurt out the answer, he saw the Gryffindor do something that she never would have done in another class, and keep her hand down.

Allie had made the clear the first time the Gryffindor had shown up. Since she wasn't giving points, and she was asking questions to help specific people, anyone who tried to answer a question that wasn't asked them would be invited to leave and wouldn't be coming back.

"I'm not a teacher," Allie had said. "I won't be giving any points for right answers. You're here because you want my help. Respect the others who are here because they want the same thing. If you can't do that, then you can leave and not come back."

So far only Zacharias Smith, who Harry had spent the better part of the year avoiding—as much as such a thing was possible when you share a dorm room with another person—had tested her on it. Unfortunately for him, he'd decided to do it shortly after Bryce had stepped in to observe them. Despite his protests he hadn't made it back in yet.

Harry, having already added his armadillo bile, turned to watch.

"It's a liquid," Neville said slowly.

"And?" Allie asked.

"Well…it'll make the potion thinner, so we need to turn the fire down first. That'll make the potion thicken up before adding the bile because we want to maintain the consistency. But my potion is already pretty thin." He frowned. "I want to turn the fire down more than normal, or leave it down longer than normal before adding the bile?"

"Very good," Allie said approvingly. "You don't want to turn the heat source down too much, you want to maintain an even temperature throughout the potion or it'll separate. In some potions you can maintain an even temp by stirring—"

"Like with the boil relieving potion," Neville said.

"For example," she agreed. "But…"

"But we don't want to do that for this potion," Neville finished. "We don't want to aga-ageg—"

"Agitate," Allie said.

"Agitate it any more. So I need to turn it down maybe a little more, but not too much more, and wait longer." He started to leave it at that, but then added, "…and I need to watch the thickness to determine when to add the bile instead of waiting the normal amount of time."

"Excellent," Allie said. "Anyone have any questions about this? I think Neville voice all the salient points but if anyone needs clarification…"

"Not clarification, exactly," Hermione said. "How is it that you're able to adjust the recipes so easily and still turn out excellent potions? I mean, I can understand adjusting the temperature, like today, but at the beginning of the year you kept Neville from exploding the boil-relieving potion when he added porcupine quills when it was still on the fire and that hasn't been the only change you made this year."

"Is everyone at a point where they can pay attention to me for a moment? Hermione's asked a rather involved question."

She waited until she had everyone's attention.

"As Professor Snape said at the beginning of the year, Potions is part science, and part art. What a recipe does is make a potion replicable. If you know the basic techniques and follow the recipe exactly, you'll get a potion that should do what it it's supposed to do barring the occasional miss. Following a recipe exactly you will only rarely produce a truly remarkable potion, but unless you make a pretty big mistake or your ingredients are contaminated or something you won't end with a truly ruined potion. That's the science part."

"What about the reactions of the ingredients?" Hermione protested. "Snape doesn't talk about them at all!"

Allie glared at her briefly, but then shrugged. "At the level we're working they aren't really an issue. You don't need to know them to follow a recipe. Basic reactions, like those used to give a hair-coloring tonic a specific shade, are in 1,001 Magical Herbs and Fungi, the basic Potions text, or in readily available reference books in the library. Substitutions will probably be covered in a couple of years, but advanced reactions are mostly a concern of researchers.

"What Professor Snape is teaching are the techniques. Sort of like, oh, different brush strokes and shading and all sorts of things, to people who are learning to paint. The art is where magic comes into play. Oh," she said as Hermione raised her hand, "magic is necessary for the 'science' stage as well. No mundane could brew a potion by following one of our recipes, though depending on the potion some are quite useable by them—"

"They can?" Justin asked.

"Sure," Allie said. "I wouldn't want to try giving one a pepperup potion or any of the body-altering ones. I don't think they could handle steam coming out of their ears, or that rearranging their internal organs would turn out well. Those meant to be applied topically such as a boil-relieving potion, on the other hand, or any mind-altering potion, whether it's a love potion or one that enables the imbiber to understand a foreign language, then certainly. The magic is all supplied by the brewer and the ingredients.

"But to get back at my point, Professor Snape isn't giving out the reactions because at this point they aren't relevant. You have the recipe in front of you. If you know what, how much, how it's to be prepared, and when it goes in, knowing the reactions isn't necessary. He's teaching the brush strokes, different ways of preparing ingredients, or stirring potions. If you pay attention to the potion there's a sort of…rhythm in how they come together. If you can get to the point where you can feel that, you can start to…meddle, toss in a contrasting color or add some syncopation…or lead it back to where it's supposed to be."

"So because you already know the techniques to brewing a potion, you know how to break them?" Hermione asked.

"If that's the explanation that works for you," Allie said. "I'm pretty sure Neville's problem, aside from the way he's intimidated by Professor Snape, is that he's cued so far into that…underlying current that he forgets the recipes and he doesn't have the experience, or techniques, to do away with them entirely. I can't do that, not at any level."

"What makes you say that?" Neville asked uncertainly.

"What? That I can't do that?" Allie asked.

"No, that you think I can."

Allie shrugged. "There are…patterns in magic. Some people are just more clued into some than others. That's how you get people that are better in transfiguration or better in potions. Since going to you for tutoring in Herbology, Neville, and having had a chance to see how well plants respond to you, I think that's part of what's going on.

"If I had to guess, and keep in mind it is a guess, I think you're so intimidated by Snape that you're reaching into that…whatever you want to call it. Where the potions use plants that's rarely a concern, in fact, your potions seem to be doing better than the class average in regards to plant-based ingredients. But you don't have the same responsiveness with animal- and mineral-based ingredients and it's throwing you off, and the differing level of, um, technique is throwing your potions into disharmony. Also, when you're nervous you have a tendency to rush a little, like not taking the boil-relieving potion off the fire before adding porcupine quills."

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Written exams were given on a sweltering day in June. The large room in which the first years took the exams trapped in all the heat, without so much as a conjured breeze to provide relief. It was just after lunch, and the only thing that kept them from falling into a doze were the straight-backed wooden chairs that had been charmed to be extra-uncomfortable.

New quills were handed out, so heavily laden with anti-cheating charms it made Harry's fingers tingle. More charms in the ink left a faint glow on the parchment that slowly faded as the ink dried.

Practical exams followed the written. Harry was well-prepared for Charms, but the mouse-into-a-snuffbox transfiguration required less power and a finer degree of control than the larger practice transformations. He left the classroom thinking he had performed rather well, but he wondered how Allie, who was even worse in Transfiguration than Neville was, would cope.

The Potions lab, which froze throughout winter despite its central location and the bubbling cauldrons that should have kept it warm, was even hotter than the rest of the school. Shimmering fumes made Harry light-headed and stung his eyes. Snape, for once, didn't say anything as the first years brewed their practical potions final. He didn't need to. He would glide around the room like an over-sized bat, appearing out of a smoky corner when a student would least expect, then loom over a poor unfortunate as he or she tried to remember if they had stirred their cauldron thirteen times or if it was only twelve. But at last Harry was able to add the elephant tail-hairs and wait for the clear solution to turn opaque before removing it from heat and bottling a sample.

And then, at last, he was done. He cleaned his cauldron and packed up his potions supplies quickly. Bryce had told them that there was always an entrance to the burrows close by the classrooms on the day of finals. Harry found the one near Snape's dungeon with little trouble and dropped his supplies off in his room before hurrying outside into the bright, warm sunlight.

The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of the giant squid, which was basking in the shallows of the lake. Ron waved from under a giant oak, and Harry hurried across the grounds and flopped down into the grass beside him and Hermione.

"How did potions go, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Ron and I just finished with History of Magic. I was quite disappointed. I didn't need to learn about the Werewolf Code of Conduct of 1637, and I don't know why I bothered with the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

"Hermione," Ron groaned. "You agreed. You weren't going to go over all of the exams."

Hermione started to retort, then shook her head. "Seriously, Harry. How do you think you did?"

"I don't know, okay I guess," Harry said, rubbing his scar. It had been aching one and off since that night in the Forbidden Forest. Now it outright hurt. "I'm pretty sure my practical potion turned out okay, and I know I did well in charms. I was trying for a nice wooden snuff-box, though. Something that would show the grain of wood, and it came out more like it was a gray fur-pattern. It was wood, it just looked like fur."

"Well, we knew it was going to be some kind of Rodenta into an inanimate container transformation," Hermione said.

"Will you just stop?" Ron asked. "You're making me feel ill."

Justin and Ernie came out almost at the same time and joined them.

"Are you feeling okay?" Justin asked him. "You're rubbing your scar again."

"It hurts," Harry admitted. "It has before, but not so often or so badly."

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said instantly.

"I'm not ill," Harry said crossly. "I think it might be a warning. It didn't start happening until the Forbidden Forest. And the phoenix amulet is warm. That means there's danger close by."

"Harry, it's almost ninety degrees out here, in the shade," Hermione said patiently. "You wear that thing next to your skin. Of course it's going to feel warm!"

"Relax," Ron said with a yawn. It really was too hot to get worked up about anything. "Hermione's right. The Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we never had any proof that Snape figured out how to get around Fluffy. He's already nearly had his leg bitten off once, he won't be eager to try that again. And you know how Hagrid idolizes Dumbledore, Neville'll play for England before Hagrid let's him down."

"You know, Harry, I'd be the last person to agree with Weasley, but in this case he's right."

Harry looked up just in time to see Allie, back in jeans and a muggle band t-shirt for the first time since they'd come to Hogwarts, dangle down from one of the oak's branches. She let go, and dropped down, landing in a crouch before slowly straitening.

"I don't know what game Dumbledore's playing at, Harry," she said seriously. "Frankly I'm not sure if he knows either. But I do know that if Firenze hadn't shown up, we'd both of us have probably died in that forest."

She paused to let that sink in before continuing in a soft, deliberate tone. "Regardless of what Professor Snape does or does not know, someone tried to get into the Forbidden Corridor when Hogwarts flooded. That same person tried to kill Padma. If whoever it was had been just a little more thorough, or if she'd been slightly less lucky, or if someone who knew CPR hadn't been there, or if Madam Pomfrey had been a touch slower, she would have died.

"I've already nearly lost two friends, Harry. I don't want to lose one for real. Tell Dumbledore if you think it'll help, but otherwise stay away from it."

She started to say more, but then shook her head, turned, and walked away.

"Allie!" Harry called.

She stopped to look back at them. "Stay away from that damned Stone, Harry."

"I could've told you," Ron muttered sleepily. "Cowardly, disgusting slimy snake."

"She was agreeing with you, Weasley," Justin snapped.

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry turned to find Padma and Parvati racing towards them.

"What is it?" he asked as they collapsed in the shade of the tree.

"He knows," Parvati panted. "Snape knows."

"Knows what?" Harry asked.

"Whoever…it is…that's af…after the Stone," Padma gasped. "He knows…how."

"To get past Fluffy!" Parvati finished in a rush.

Harry looked from Parvati to Padma and back.

"Hagrid told him," Parvati said.

"Nonsense," Hermione said flatly. "I don't care if Hagrid thinks Snape is a 'Hogwarts Professor'. He wouldn't take the risk. He knows that someone in the school is after it. He has to know. And he idolizes the Headmaster too much to give something like that away, even to someone he trusts."

"Not if he didn't think who he told wasn't someone in the school," Parvati said.

"What my sister means, is not if the person he tells is someone he doesn't think is at the school," Padma said, still breathing heavily.

Harry and the other first years traded looks. "Maybe you should tell it from the beginning."

"There isn't time," Parvati said. "He could be on his way to get the Stone right now!"

"We have to know what's going on if we're going to make any rational decisions," Hermione said.

"Fine," Parvati said. "It was Padma's idea to begin with."

"It occurred to me," Padma said. "That Hagrid always wanted a dragon. One showing up this year, right when the business with the Stone is going on, was more than a little suspicious. I mean, it could have been just a coincidence, but there's been too many things happening this year…"

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay, so you went to see Hagrid…"

"So we went down to Hagrid's," Parvati said. "The guy who gave him the egg never lowered his hood, but that's not supposed to be uncommon in the pub, the Hog's Head. According to Hagrid this man got him drunk, drunk enough to make his memory kind of blurry."

"Must have cost him," Hermione said. "Hagrid's big."

Which was sort of like saying that Neville had some trouble with Potions, Harry thought. "And?" he pressed.

"And the guy wanted to know that the egg, Norbert, was going to a good home," Padma said. "Hagrid told him about Fluffy."

Harry traded looks with the others again. Ron was frowning, and Hermione had a troubled look and was biting her lip. Justin and Ernie were both looking rather grave.

"Are you…are you sure?" Harry asked.

"'Well—yeah—how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts?'" Padma asked in a pretty good mimicry of Hagrid's accent. "Harry, whoever that was in the pub, knows how to get past Fluffy. It's almost certainly whoever is after the Stone."

"Snape," Parvati insisted. "He probably has contacts to smuggle a dragon egg into the country. Rare potion ingredients and the like."

The oppressive heat was forgotten as the seven first years headed for Hogwarts in silence. After the bright sun, the Hall was cold and gloomy.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," Harry said.

"But we haven't any proof," Hermione said.

"We don't have a choice," Harry insisted. "Firenze might back us up, if Bane lets him. Maybe Ronan and Dreammyst too."

"And if Hagrid will admit to telling the stranger about how to get past Fluffy, maybe it'll be enough to encourage Quirrell to take a stand against Snape as well," Padma said.

"You really think so?" Ron asked doubtfully.

"No, but I don't have any better ideas, do you?" Padma asked angrily. "This is so much bigger than us… Allie is right. You-Know-Who, Snape, whoever it is after that thing, is willing to kill for it. So we tell Dumbledore, and then we stay out of it."

"Tell Professor Dumbledore what, Ms. Patil?" McGonagall asked.

The first years traded nervous looks as the transfiguration professor stopped in front of them. She was carrying a great stack of books and exam parchments, and looked very hot and tired.

"It's kind of a secret," Harry hedged. But he could see that Professor McGonagall was having none of it so he quickly amended, "It's about the Philosopher's Stone, Professor."

Whatever Professor McGonagall had been thinking they were up to, that was not it. She was taken so by surprise that she dropped the stack of books which fell to the floor with a great bang.

Hermione and Padma both cringed at the sight, the Gryffindor quickly crouching down to pick them up.

"Enough of that," McGonagall said impatiently as she produced her wand and began swishing and flicking the books back into a stack.

Harry, saw his chance. "We think that Voldemort's after it," he said quickly as McGonagall cleaned up the spilled books. "We know—"

"You know far too much about things that don't concern you, Potter," McGonagall said tartly.

Harry was taken aback. McGonagall was very strict and often rather stiff, but she was also unfailingly polite. It was the first time he could recall her ever addressing a student by just their last name, and the acerbic bite in it twisted his name into sounding like something Snape would have said.

"But the Stone," he pressed on. "It isn't safe."

"The Stone is quite well protected, I assure you," McGonagall said. "Yes, even you, Ms. Patil. And you, Ms. Granger, I would have thought you smart enough to realize how…unwise it is to discuss certain topics where anyone could hear. Now, outside with the lot of you, or I'll follow through with my first inclination and put all of you in detention for the rest of the week."

"So now what do we do?" Ernie asked as they trudged back out to their tree. Malfoy and a handful of other Slytherins were already sitting there so they turned away and continued walking.

"Send a letter to Dumbledore, I guess," Harry said. "Maybe tell Cedric and Tonks when they're done with their exams."

"We can watch Snape and the Forbidden Corridor," Hermione said.

"I've got Snape," Padma said.

"Are you sure?" Parvati asked.

Her sister nodded. "It's after exams so he'll be in the staff lounge right now, I checked. He won't do anything to me with other teachers that close. Well, other than take points and give detentions. If he asks I can tell him that I'm waiting for Flitwick to talk about the exams."

"But what if he goes and actually gets Professor Flitwick?" Hermione asked.

"Then I tell him what we tried to tell Professor McGonagall," Padma said. "We should probably tell him anyway, and Sprout too. They were the ones that helped with the protections."

"So did Quirrell," Hermione pointed out, then sighed. "Not that I expect he'd be any help if we went to him."

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Harry had never been in greenhouse four before. Under other circumstances he would have looked at the strange magical plants growing there. While he didn't have Neville's enthusiasm for the subject, he did enjoy being around magic and seeing new things was fun.

"Who's there?" Professor Sprout's voice asked from deep inside the greenhouse.

"Me, Professor, Harry," Harry said.

"Did something happen?" Sprout asked quickly.

"No," Harry said. "Well, yes, but…it's complicated."

"Well…" she said slowly. "If it isn't an emergency, why don't you come and tell me about it. Take care to stay on the path, dear."

Each of the greenhouses had a clearly defined path that was safe for people to walk on without fear of the plants. In the greenhouses the lower years used this was less of a necessity, but pathways were still marked to get them familiar with how the higher level greenhouses were arranged. He found Professor Sprout at the end of the greenhouse kneeling in front of a planting box that was wider across than Harry was tall.

"This, Harry, is assassin vine," Sprout said, indicating the plant she was transferring from a pot to the box. "It's a member of the kudzu family that has evolved a remarkable ability to fertilize itself by capturing small animals and spreading their remains around its roots. Someone left a seedling in a rather handsome pot in greenhouse three months ago. Now, what seems to be your problem? Post-exam nerves?"

"Er…no," Harry said. "It's about the Philosopher's Stone."

"I see," Sprout said, her voice rather flat as she gave him a steely-eyed look that was nothing at all like her normally warm, cheerful self. "Perhaps you had better explain."

So Harry did. He told her about meeting Hagrid in Diagon Alley and about Gringotts and the goblins. He told her about finding out that Gringotts had been broken into but the vault had been emptied earlier that day. He told her about Hagrid letting slip that it was a matter between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, and about Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card that told them that Flamel was an alchemist, which led to the Stone.

He told her about Snape. About how he'd gotten his leg bitten by Fluffy during Halloween, how as soon as the presence of the troll was announced he went for the Stone, and their speculation that it was Snape who had let the troll loose in the dungeons. He told her about the Forbidden Forest, how he and Allie were attacked, and about how Voldemort was drinking unicorn blood. He told her how his scar had hurt in the Forest, in the Great Hall when Snape stared at him the first day, and how it had been hurting since and his suspicions that it was some kind of warning.

He hesitated, but then told her about Hagrid, and Norbert, and how Hagrid had admitted to telling a stranger about Fluffy.

Through it all she sat and listened.

When at last he was finished she sat down the trowel she had been using to arrange the dirt just-so around the assassin vine, and rocked back to sit on her heels. "Have you told anyone else all of this?" she asked.

"Professor McGonagall stopped us in the Entrance Hall when we were looking for Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "I told her the Stone was in danger, but she didn't let me explain."

"No, she wouldn't have, especially not there," Professor Sprout told him. "You'd have done better to ask to speak to her in private."

"I'll remember that next time," Harry said.

"There shouldn't be a 'next time,'" Professor Sprout said tartly. "Still…in this case I think you may have a point, but we are strictly limited in what we can do. I doubt we can enhance the protections any further at this late date."

"What about putting a guard on it, or even taking it out of the school?" Harry asked. "That worked for Gringotts."

"And if there was another placed prepared for it I might suggest we do just that, but we don't," Sprout said. "Or, if there is one, it isn't one that I am privy to the knowledge of, Harry. Furthermore, the Headmaster was the last one to emplace protections. Only he knows how to get past them. It could well be that You-Know-Who has allowed you to learn what you have with the intention that we professors together are able to pierce this final layer of defense, and then seize the Stone once it has been brought into the open."

"He could have done that?" Harry asked.

"You-Know-Who is as dark and as evil a wizard as ever there was," Sprout said in a serious tone that was devoid of any of her usual good humor. "But just because he is evil does not mean he is stupid. Far from it. One of the reasons that even a decade after he vanished people still fear to say his name is because of how frightfully intelligent he was. He could easily have a half-dozen different plans to gain the Stone, through trickery and deception to out-right force. I do not say this to frighten you, Harry, though only a very foolish person would not be afraid, but so that you can understand the seriousness of the situation you have found yourself in."

"What about guards?" Harry asked.

"And whom would you entrust with watching, your fellow students?" Sprout asked. "You do not think that You-Know-Who has failed to recognize their potential as hostages, do you? And these attacks and attempts might just as easily have been conducted by a seventh, or perhaps a sixth year—maybe even a fifth year, if he or she had You-Know-Who's guidance.

"And even if that were not an issue, who would you trust with actually guarding it?" Sprout continued wryly. "There are a great many ways of disguising yourself as someone else. Your evidence against Professor Snape is wholly circumstantial. For all you know it could have been planted to make him look guilty, and I or Professor McGonagall could have been acting as You-Know-Who's agent for the past year."

Harry hadn't thought about this at all, though he rather suspected that Allie would have if he'd asked her. The twisted logic and serious demeanor, so alien to his Head of House's normal cheerful forthrightness, made the whole situation seem oddly surreal.

And he had the strangest sense of déjà vu. As though he had been through this moment before, only it had gone very differently.

Professor Sprout offered him a grim version of her usual smile. "Didn't think of any of that, did you?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," Harry admitted. "I can't say that I did. Uh, who would normally be responsible for Voldemort—sorry, You-Know-Who? Is there a magical army or something we could call?"

"There is, the Aurors—"

"You mean the, uh, police that Tonks wants to join?" Harry blurted.

"The same," Professor Sprout said approvingly. "They normally have responsibility for stopping dark wizards and witches. Under the circumstances I'm not sure how much help they would be. Try to see it from their perspective, Harry. A first year claims to have confronted the dark wizard he somehow defeated as a baby, and is now attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone—an artifact that is very nearly myth even in the wizarding world—from the very halls of Hogwarts."

"You don't think they'll believe me," Harry said flatly.

Professor Sprout nodded before sighing heavily. "Unfortunately, as Professor McGonagall made you aware, the Headmaster is in London at the moment."

"We sent him an owl," Harry said.

"An owl?"

"Hedwig," Harry said. "It just…seemed the sensible thing to do, since Professor McGonagall didn't want to listen."

"Well, Hedwig is a very sensible bird," Professor Sprout said. "Under other circumstances there are many faster ways of making contact. Unfortunately the floo is down, which hinders both communication and travel."

"It is?" Harry asked. "What can cause a magical fireplace to not work?"

"Maintenance," Professor Sprout said. Harry made have made a face or something because she hurried to explain. "Oh not the magic, that works just fine. The problem is that the floo is linked to fireplaces. Every so often the fires must be extinguished and the chimneys cleaned of creosote buildup.

"There are other methods of travel that are nearly as fast, though they too are not without their disadvantages. Unfortunately, the floo makes for fast and convenient communication and there is something of a lack in the way of alternatives. And quite frankly, I'm not sure which of the Headmaster's other responsibilities drew him to London, and even if I did it might be some time before he could escape them."

"But then what do we do?" Harry asked.

"You have brought the matter to my attention, Harry," Professor Sprout said not unkindly. "That alone is more than I would expect of a first year, no matter how talented. Now it is the responsibility of the professors to deal with. I'm quite confident that Professor McGonagall will know how to contact the Headmaster in case of emergency; she is his Deputy Headmistress after all. In the meantime, I suggest you do as Professor McGonagall instructed, Harry. Try to enjoy the rest of the day. I'm certain the Headmaster is going to want a full accounting when he returns from London."

\|/\|/\|/

But Harry did not go outside and enjoy the rest of the day. He didn't even return to the Hufflepuff common room. Instead he took off through the back halls and seldom used staircases, uncomfortably aware of the portraits and suits of armor, as though they were tracking his movements and reporting them back to McGonagall or perhaps whoever was in league with Voldemort. Arriving in one particularly deserted cross-hall, devoid of even portrait, statue, or bust, he slipped into a secret passageway. It was close and cramped and very dirty, but it let out in a small foyer that was only a short walk from the gallery that led to the Tower of Turmoil.

Hermione and Ron weren't there, and neither was Allie, but the rest of his friends were.

"What did Professor Sprout say?" Tonks demanded as soon as he entered.

"That there isn't a lot they can do," Harry said. "She said that everything we have on Snape could have been planted or manipulated to make him look guilty so that whoever is really looking for Voldemort isn't suspected—"

"Must you keep saying his name?" Tonks asked.

Harry ignored her. "She said that we could have been manipulated so that the professors think that the Stone is in danger."

"What good would that do?" Ernie asked.

"They would remove it from whatever they have guarding it to move it somewhere else," Padma said. "That would make the Stone more vulnerable, not less."

"Which is what Professor Sprout said," Harry said. "Plus, there is the little matter that they don't have anywhere else to put it."

"What about guards?" Tonks said. "The Aurors—"

"Wouldn't believe me," Harry said.

"Why not?" she asked outraged. "This is what they do, Harry."

"Professor Sprout didn't think they'd believe a first year," Harry said disgustedly. "Especially since I'm supposed to have gotten rid of Voldemort in the first place."

"To be fair, Harry, it does sound a little fantastic," Cedric said.

"What if I don't want to be fair?" Harry snapped. "Ever since I entered the wizarding world people have been staring at me, and whispering behind my back, and staring at my scar, and asking if I remembered anything from that night. If I remembered Voldemort murdering my parents.

"Well I don't remember, okay? I don't remember and no, I don't know what happened to him. Whatever it was I saw in the Forbidden Forest it was…less than a person. Is it really too much to ask for the rest of the wizarding world to stop flinching at his name for five seconds to grow a spine and finish the job? Do they want him to get his hands on the Stone, to come back at the height of his powers?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortably aware that his friends were now staring at him in much the same manner—though for none of the same reasons—that people in the wizarding world stared at him.

"Sorry, Cedric," he said awkwardly, "guys, you didn't deserve that.

Cedric returned his look levelly for a moment before shrugging. "Maybe not, Harry," he allowed. "But I think you needed to say it."

Harry nodded, but he still felt awkward about it. He got up from the chair and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and began to pace. "So…" he said.

"I talked with Professor Flitwick," Padma said. "I'm not sure if he believed me or not, but he did listen. He told me that 'appropriate measures will be taken,' but refused to go into details. From what he said, he has the same concerns Professor Sprout has, and that there are issues of just how much they can do at such short notice."

"And they have to keep an eye on us," Harry said. "Sprout mentioned the potential for the students to become hostages. He could have a half-dozen plans going at once to get the Stone, and those just the ones we have thought of, is what Professor Sprout told me. Where are Hermione and Ron?"

"The owlery," Justin said.

"Still?"

"Hermione has this neat little charm that she uses to copy her notes," Parvati said. "She needs blank parchment and can only do one at a time, but I think she might be copying several hundred letters and sending out all of the owls in the owlery in case You-Know-Who has a way of intercepting them."

"Show off," Padma muttered.

"Do you think they'll make it in time?" Tonks asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know how long it takes an owl to get to London, do you?"

The others in the tower traded looks and shrugs.

"What about the floo?" Ernie asked. "We could contact the Ministry a lot more quickly with it."

"It's blazing hot today. Have you seen a lit fireplace?" Padma asked.

"Professor Sprout said that it wasn't working," Harry said. "That the fireplaces were cold because the chimneys needed to be cleaned. And she wasn't certain where at the Ministry he was. Remember all those jobs that Professor Dumbledore has? The wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards and the rest? I wouldn't know where to begin calling."

"So that's it then?" Ernie asked. "The Professors aren't going to be able to do anything more because of the late notice and the Law Enforcement Patrol wouldn't believe us? Snape gets the stone, hands it over to him, and, that's it?"

Not if we get it first, Harry thought before dismissing the notion. He turned back to find everyone in the tower staring at him.

"You're mad, you know that don't you?" Padma asked, breaking the silence. "Because I thought I heard you say "not if we get it first"."

"It wasn't your hearing," Parvati said. "I heard it too." The twins traded considering looks, then Parvati turned to Harry. "Let's do it."

"Whoa, hold it," Harry said. "I may have thought it but I didn't mean to actually do it. Quirrell has more experience than the lot of us together and would we want to trust him with this?"

"You mean to want to sit here and do nothing?" Parvati demanded.

"What else can we do?" Harry asked helplessly. "Even if we do get the Stone what would we do with it?"

"We bring it here," Parvati said. "We change the password and don't come out until Dumbledore's back."

"And if Snape attacks us before we get it here?" Tonks asked. "I'm pretty good at DADA, but Snape's supposed to know an awful lot about the Dark Arts. I don't think I could take him by myself and having you lot around would make fighting him harder, not easier, because I'd have to fight to protect you too. I'd like to do something as much as you do, Parvati, but I can't think of anything we could do that wouldn't make the situation worse."

"We can at least post guards or something," Justin said.

"You don't think that one of the first things the Professors will do is put up a spell to alert them if anyone is even by the Forbidden Corridor, if they don't already have something to do just that?" Cedric pointed out. "Don't forget what happened to Padma the last time one of us ran across Snape or whoever is helping You-Know-Who."

"So we don't stand right in the corridor," Justin said. "Harry still has his cloak, right? What if we trade off walking past the corridor while wearing it? Even if there is something to alert the Professors when someone happens by, they have to have some way of filtering out students."

"Justin's right," Ernie said. "We may not be able to stop Snape from getting past us, but at least we'll be able to go to the Professors and tell them it's happening right now."

They turned expectantly to Harry who shrugged and looked at Tonks.

"Alright," the seventh year said slowly, "But Cedric and I are taking the first watch. If anything happens it'll happen then."

"I'll come too," Padma said.

"You will?" her sister asked.

"Flitwick's quarters are closest," Padma said. "I can go for him while the rest of you go for McGonagall and Sprout."

"Fine, but if you are then so am I," Parvati said.