The Best Revenge
Chapter 33
"-but I wish you could have been there," Harry told Snape over tea. "It was such a lark! I'd always thought I'd like to be in a play, and it went really well..."
"So I was told-repeatedly-by Professor Sprout at breakfast. And she told everyone else, too. Clearly, she thought Hufflepuff Talent Night a notable success."
"Oh, yeah-yes-Cedric and Periander did this play about transfiguring feet, and it was hilarious, with lots of pranks and charms-and some of the kids played music or sang-and Ernie's cousin and her friends had a fashion show-and the girls liked that-and the Headmaster was there. It was all pretty cool. I wish you'd seen it. Sally danced, too. She's really good and wore a really pretty dress she called a tutu." Harry sighed with satisfaction at the memory and took another biscuit, munching it dreamily.
Snape gave his charge a tight smile, and indulged his chatter. Slytherin House had no event comparable to Pomona's Talent Night. Nor did any other house. Filius was very fond of music, but his one attempt many years ago had resulted in a great deal of jealousy, accusations, and bad feeling within Ravenclaw. Now he was talking about trying again. A different group of childreN...more experienced leadership...the good example of the Hufflepuffs...
Pomona had gone on most especially about all her first-year students cooperating so nicely on their little play. Snape secretly shuddered at what might transpire if he required his own first-years to attempt something similar. Pansy would bully the other girls-he had not missed her mean-spirited remarks at Millicent Bullstrode's expense-and Draco would assume a leading role as his due. Gregory and Vincent might permit that, but Blaise and Theodore would resist, and then there would be resentment and hexes and possibly injuries and tear-stained owls home to indignant parents. Impossible. Completely impossible.
"-and it was really all thanks to you, Professor," Harry was saying.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You gave me my copy of Beedle the Bard! If we hadn't had that, we wouldn't have found the story that was just right for us!"
"Oh, yes. The Tale of the of Three Brothers." Snape found it interesting that Harry described performing what was really a rather dark and tragic story as a "lark."
"I wish you could have been there," Harry repeated, now more wistfully.
"Severus?" called a voice from the fire.
"Yes, Professor Burbage?" answered Snape. She had been chatting through the fire and visiting quite a bit lately. It had not proved as irritating as Snape had once thought it might be.
"Oh-is Harry with you? I'm sorry to disturb your special tea-time together, but I wonder if I could have a word with both of you."
"If you like."
Her robes were more violet than lilac today, but she smelled as nice as ever. She gave them both a smile as she stepped through the fire, patting her hair a little self-consciously.
"Would you care for some tea?" Snape asked.
"Oh-well-yes-just a sip. I won't take up too much of your time."
She was handed her cup, fixed to her liking. Snape knew by now that she took milk and one sugar. After the obligatory sip and thanks, she launched into the reason for her visit.
"I had an idea for the next club program, Harry, and I wanted to see what you thought. I know you had asked Cedric Diggory to come and talk about quidditch, but perhaps he wouldn't mind if we put that off for later. Instead, why not have a repeat performance of his play and yours for all the first-years? We could call it an introduction to wizarding literature. I've heard so much about how well you all did. It would be nice if your classmates could see it for themselves-especially now, when it's all fresh in your memories."
Harry was willing enough. He had really enjoyed performing, and had felt let-down and a little disappointed when it was over.
Charity, Snape discovered, had given the idea quite a bit of thought. She had arranged with Pomona to borrow the little Hufflepuff stage and move it to the meeting room. If all the participants could manage to come on Sunday afternoon, there seemed nothing to hinder them.
"And you could come and see, Professor!" Harry said excitedly.
"If it would not impose-"
"Not at all!" Charity supported Harry. "I think you ought to see what the students have been doing. In fact, why not let any staff member come who likes? Talk to the others, Harry. I'm sure they won't mind."
Harry knew that all the Hufflepuffs would like to perform for as many people as possible. He was not the only one who had had a good time. He would ask the other officers, but he could not picture them objecting. Of course, they wouldn't want grownups coming to all their meetings, but this once it should be all right. He could invite Hagrid and Professor McGonagall, too! Susan and Hannah would enjoy planning special treats for the guests.
Hermione was very interested in the prospect of seeing "wizarding theatre." Neville had never seen any kind of stage performance at all, and considered it a wonderful, unlooked-for treat. Draco did not fail to point out that he had seen the complete play "in the original French" in Paris, but conceded that it would be a very nice thing for those who did not have his advantages.
"But your show-" he whispered to Harry"-with Sally dancing-" He pulled Harry away from the others, grey eyes wide. "Is it all right-really? I heard that muggle dancing was-you know-sort of depraved. Does Sally wear anything? Because if-"
Shocked, Harry gave him a push, and said, "Draco! Of course it's all right! Sally's dance was-beautiful! She wears a really pretty costume and she's not depraved! How can you say that?"
A little offended, Draco huffed, "Well, that's what I heard! I heard that there are places where muggle women dance naked!"
Neville and Hermione were listening, of course. Neville's jaw dropped at the horror of it all, but Hermione broke in, scandalised, but eager to give them the best information possible.
"Oh, Draco's right! There are such places, but they aren't nice at all. Decent people don't go there!" she explained, innocent and officious. "Sally's dancing is completely different. Ballet dancing is very refined and respectable. It's Great Art. There are all sorts of muggle dancing, but ballet is the best! I heard that Sally did wonderfully well."
"She did," Harry affirmed, scowling at Draco. "It was-beautiful. You'll see. She didn't dance naked!" His voice dropped to an embarrassed growl on the last word. "How can you think Sally would do that?"
"Well-how should I know? She's been brought up who knows how-you said yourselves that things are different in the muggle world! How would I know what they consider all right for a girl to do?" Unwilling to let go of the subject, he asked, "What exactly did she wear?"
Harry was untutored in matters of feminine fashion, but managed to more or less describe the billowing skirt and the wreath of flowers and the satin laced slippers.
"Well-" Draco conceded grudgingly. "That sounds quite acceptable. Odd, but it is a costume after all. And everyone did say it was very good. I didn't mean to say anything against Sally."
"All right, then." They continued their discussion of how Draco would call the meeting to order, since Harry would be busy getting ready behind the scenes. Cedric would come to them to talk about quidditch in the meeting after the following one, which would be the Halloween meeting. They would learn about the customs, treats, and dances of ancient Samhain, and it was sure to be popular.
Quite a few guests did come to the Explorers' meeting. Susan and Hannah looked upon it as a kind of Open House to introduce their club to the staff and distinguished visitors. The little stage was set up just so in the attractive, high-ceilinged chamber. The silver on the table against the far wall gleamed, the chandelier sparkled. Professor Burbage had found dozens of elegant gilt chairs from somewhere, and they were set up facing the stage.
Among the distinguished visitors was a representative of the Board of Governors. Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa arrived, smartly dressed for an afternoon's entertainment and tea, smiling on all the little first-year students. They saw Snape lurking in the back row and greeted him as an old friend, inevitably spiriting him along with them to the seats in front.
"What a delightful room!" Narcissa said. "I don't believe I've ever been here before."
"Severus!" called Charity Burbage, busily conferring with Susan Bones, "Save me a seat!"
Snape nodded gravely, and the Malfoys exchanged discreet looks and incredulous smiles.
"Ah-Professor Burbage," Lucius remarked. "Draco owled us that she had been generous enough to sponsor the meetings. Have you been seeing a great deal of her?"
Flatly, Snape answered, "She lives here, too. I can hardly avoid her."
"What a good colour for her," Narcissa murmured to Lucius, just loud enough for Snape to hear. "She's much improved from her school days. She's quite grown into her looks. Her hair is very striking, I think. Does she always wear amethysts, Severus?"
"I hadn't noticed," Snape shrugged elaborately. "Amethysts are a good all-purpose charm."
"Mother! Father!" Draco called, coming over to see them. "I'm so glad you could make it! We're going to start soon. With Harry and Bones busy with the skit, I've had to do everything! I've instructed Granger to include in the minutes the names of everyone who attends. It should be quite an event!"
He strode away to greet Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, and to show them to their seats. Sprout was here too, since the Headmaster had told them he would be in his office if there were any emergency. Draco had no liking for the Headmaster, but it would have been polite had he made the effort to attend. Well, they would do very well without him. All the Heads of House-oh-and there was Hagrid!
Draco told Neville to show the half-giant to the special chair Professor Burbage thought would be comfortable for him. Once Hagrid was settled, Draco checked the time and swept an eye over the gratifyingly full room. They would need to begin in a few minutes, but just as well to let the late-comers come skulking in first. He felt very pleased with himself. Blaise and Theo had come and were sitting with Vince and Greg, with Pansy and Daphne on their other side. Slytherin House was showing proper solidarity today. Whether it would last was anyone's guess.
He gave his best, practiced smile to Lisa Turpin and Padma Patil. The girls joined the Gryffindor Patil and her friend. Brocklehurst and McDougal were still recalcitrant, but it was their loss, after all. Haughty little bints they were, anyhow, with precious little to be haughty about. Granger was worth ten of them put together. There she was, busily noting down the names. A good sort, really. Trying to learn and fit in. He had done wonders with her, just with a bit of advice and encouragement.
Another student made an appearance. "Hullo, Millie!" Draco greeted her, surprised. "I didn't expect you! Glad you're here all the same. The Slytherins sit over there-"
The big girl mumbled, "Hullo, Draco. I'll just sit back here, if it's all the same to you."
"Suit yourself."
It was time. He smoothed his hair and walked forward to give the formal welcome. It was very pleasant to preside today, when his parents could see him, and to be Master of Ceremonies for the programme. Maximum visibility, with a minimum of responsibility. As he was greeting everyone, carefully remarking on the presence of a school Governor, he noticed a flash of red hair sneaking into the room. Not allowing a reflexive sneer to spoil his appearance, he continued with the opening remarks. Not even a Weasley could ruin this for him.
Snape found the little performance was quite pleasant, really. The music was well done, and Harry and his Hufflepuff friends seemed to be having a jolly time. The pontus charm was interesting. He had never had occasion to use it, but the colourful sparks were a bonus-at least when being entertained. Charity, next to him, was smiling with pleasure. She smelled very nice. Even Narcissa had admired her robes and hair, and Narcissa was notoriously critical of other witches. It was rather agreeable to have a friend to sit with today.
Ah-here comes the famous dance.
Snape knew nothing of dancing or ballet or anything of the sort. Life in Spinners End was not exactly replete with high culture. He could tell, however, that the little girl was doing well at whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. The music was very nice, and the costume something that he was sure that other little girls would admire. He puzzled over the shoes. Muggles could not be using charms, so the girl must actually be moving on her toes. Surely that could not be good for her feet? Narcissa was whispering something to Lucius, who nodded, his face an unreadable mask of polite attention.
In fact, Narcissa felt rather concerned. A beautiful child-by far the prettiest of the year. Narcissa understood that nearly all of them were in attendance, and she had eyed each of them thoroughly. Some she knew and some she did not. It was clear that the little dancer was the pick of the bunch for looks. Her looks, in fact, were the sort that would only improve with puberty. That could be very inconvenient. She glanced behind to see Draco, and was irritated to see him watching with an enchanted expression. She did not want Draco looking in such a way at the bastard half-blood daughter of that eccentric Unspeakable Croaker and some muggle trollop. At least she was not one of the officers of Draco's little club. Sally-Anne Perks! What a ridiculous name! A graceful, pretty child, certainly. Narcissa wished futilely, fiercely, for a pretty daughter of her own, whom she could dress in an absurd confection of tulle, whose brow she could wreathe in flowers and pearls, who-
She bit her lip, and forced her attention on the play. Oh, that's over, at last! And now-Harry-how funny-what an amusing, subtle way to mock Dumbledore...
After his own play was over, Harry found Cedric and Periander's performance even better than the last time. Maybe it was the bigger audience, and the louder laughs. Draco had saved him a seat and he edged in between the blond boy and Neville, accepting their whispered compliments with a grin. He was gratified by Draco's added remark that "Sally's dance really was quite charming. She looked very nice, too."
He suspected that the rest of the audience enjoyed Cedric's performance more than The Tale of the Three Brothers. The mock duel was hysterical, and the room rocked with laughter as Periander hopped across the stage on a whale's fluke. I really do love magic, he thought, very content.
"The Burbages are an old family," Narcissa considered later that night, as her hair received the requisite brushing. "Quite old. Quite respectable. I think she fancies Severus, dearest."
"I daresay. The pickings are slim at Hogwarts," Lucius pointed out, lounging on the bed. "Should she set her cap at Flitwick? At Hagrid? At-Dumbledore?"
Narcissa tinkled a chilly little laugh. "Don't be gruesome, my darling. I take your point that Severus is the only wizard at Hogwarts who would be even possible, but still-I think she does genuinely fancy him. That's all to the good, of course. It's a very nice thing for him to have a witch of good breeding hunting him down. Their children would be still be halfbloods, unfortunately, but if she doesn't mind, so much the worse for her. The only question is if he finds her sufficiently attractive."
"I think she's attractive enough-" Lucius observed, wisely adding, "-for Severus. I've always thought he fancied redheads, but perhaps he has branched out lately."
"High time that he did!" Narcissa said sharply. "A decent pureblooded witch like Charity Burbage should not have to resemble that muggleborn tart Lily Potter to be considered good-looking."
"Don't let Harry hear you calling his mother a tart," Lucius admonished.
Almost ashamed, Narcissa tossed the hairbrush down, and turned to him frowning. "All right! She wasn't a tart, but she was something very close to it, as far as I'm concerned!"
"I know you disliked her."
"I did-and not just for her muggle blood. I disliked her personally. So pleased with herself-so uninterested in our ways. Grabbing all the magic she could-and so quick to parrot Dumbledore, too. Such a-a-Gryffindor!"
Lucius chuckled. "And yet you seem quite fond of Harry."
"I do quite like Harry. He's been a nice companion for Draco. They've had pleasant times together. Of course, he wasn't raised by either of his obnoxious parents. A very good thing. And I'm certainly not sorry he's under Severus' wing now. I'm not even sorry he's in Hufflepuff-much. He seems to be enjoying himself, and the children seem nice enough."
"The little dancing girl is very pretty," Lucius remarked. "Maybe the current Potter will follow the tradition of marrying the best-looking girl of his year."
"Oh, I hope not! A half-blood? The mother a muggle? Surely Harry can do better. The Bones girl is going to develop nicely, and she has a great deal of spirit and good sense. Look at how well she played the hostess today, young as she is! A pureblood, who would produce pureblooded children for the Potter line once more. Much more the thing. Or that Gryffindor Brown girl is pretty enough. She might do. Possibly Daphne Greengrass...I don't think Harry much likes Pansy Parkinson."
Lucius laughed heartily. "Draco does though-or at least he can put up with her. I hope she'll improve with age. Of course, the little Perks girl might prove a distraction. She's certainly a graceful creature. It was quite interesting to see that sort of dancing."
"Draco does not need that sort of distraction! And neither do we."
"He's only eleven, Narcissa! Let him enjoy his schooldays!"
Samhain customs involved more dancing, a bit of candlemagic-something about which Harry had previously known nothing-the significance of pumpkins in wizarding culture, and the magical uses of a bonfire. The bonfire, alas, the Headmaster forbade, for reasons of "safety." However, the Halloween feast was something to look forward to. The purebloods had been interested and amused to hear about the similarities-and differences-of muggle Halloween lore from their fellow club members.
Lately, Harry had remembered that his parents had been killed on the thirty-first of October. He wondered if that made it wrong for him to celebrate. He remembered very little about that night, and he disliked thinking about it, anyway. On Halloween morning, he talked it over in the dorm with Ernie and Justin.
"I don't think it's disrespectful, Harry," Ernie said, after taking time to consider it thoroughly. "I mean-it's only the feast. You have to have dinner, anyway!"
"Nobody expects you to starve yourself!" Justin agreed. "That would be stupid. Besides," he added, remembering a term he had read, "You're not celebrating Halloween. You're observing it. It's showing respect for wizarding tradition. That's very important!"
Harry allowed himself to be comforted and convinced.
"Yeah," he agreed, as the delicious scent of baking pumpkin wafted through the castle. "tradition is important."
Charms class that day was great fun. Professor Flitwick decided that they were ready to learn the levitation charm. It was not at all easy, but by the end of class Harry had managed it, and was helping Sally, who was partnered with him. Hermione Granger and her partner Terry Boot had caught on to it almost immediately, and were playing with the feathers, sending them higher and higher.
Some of the Ravenclaw girls sulked, but no one said anything unpleasant to Hermione today-especially not in front of Professor Flitwick. Hermione Granger was regarded somewhat as Flitwick's "pet," and no one wanted to rouse the diminutive professor's ire again. The two other Ravenclaw boys were civil to Hermione now. Two of the girls, Lisa and Padma, were almost polite. The other two simply ignored her. Harry was pleased to notice that Hermione was ignoring them as well, and not seeming unhappy about it.
Even better was Potions, where Harry always felt particularly at ease with the subject matter. He and Draco worked well together, and their potions had been uniformly successful. Their Hand Healer Salve was going smoothly at the moment. Since their seats were so close to Professor Snape, Harry was generally able to tune out the various conversations that were whispered as they brewed.
Not today.
"Ex-cuse-me!" drawled Pansy. "Do let someone else have some dried hyssop. I realise that some people need to make a double batch to cover their gigantic man hands, but I would like to finish this assignment sometime this year."
Harry frowned and looked behind him. Draco whispered, "She's ragging on Millie again. It's been going for days now-even before Millie came to the meeting with the plays. And Pansy got an owl from her Mother this morning, and she's always impossible after getting one of those."
There was a hint of a scuffle behind him and Harry heard Sally hiss, "Stop that! Leave her alone!"
"Sorry, Perks, I didn't mean to upset your boyfriend! Though a halfblood would be just the thing for someone with her background. Or his, I meant to say. Is Bullstrode a nice boyfriend, Perks? You two seem so close-such a lovely couple..."
Her voice had risen just a little too much. Snape looked up from Crabbe and Goyle's mess of a potion to hear the last few sentences. Instantly he was looming over Pansy Parkinson, staring her down.
"You will not speak for the remainder of the class. You will stay afterward."
Knowing she had gone too far, Pansy ventured, "I have Herbology next, Professor."
"No, you don't."
He turned his back on her, and continued his restless monitoring of the class. Draco raised his brows at Harry, who whistled soundlessly. Pansy was for it. Harry would hate for Professor Snape to be angry with him.
The Halloween decorations surpassed anything Harry had yet seen. Thousands of live bats soared through the Great Hall, clinging to the walls, zooming overhead. Pumpkins glowed with the yellow light of the candles within. When the feast suddenly appeared, Harry and his friends grinned at each other in delight.
"Oooh! Brussels sprouts!" Susan called out. "My favourite!"
"Eeeww," muttered Ernie, whose mother's sprouts were invariable grey and swimmy, despite all her magic. These, he had to admit, were green and healthy-looking. He still could not be persuaded to taste them, though Harry and Justin were talked into taking a spoonful each.
Harry was on the point of popping one in his mouth, when Professor Quirrell came dashing into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he ran to the Head Table and gasped, "Troll-in the dungeons-thought you ought to know."
He sank to the floor in a faint.
Amidst the uproar of questions and screams, Harry and his fellow Hufflepuffs were silent, looking at each other in bewilderment. Harry had warned them that something was wrong with Professor Quirrell, but what were they to make of this?
Purple firecrackers exploded from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand, and the noise abated. "Prefects-" he commanded, "-lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"
The Hufflepuffs were bewildered. The Slytherins, at their own table, were outraged. Their Houses were in the dungeons.
"But-" Hannah protested helplessly, "-if the troll is in the dungeons, why is the Headmaster sending us there?"
Further up the table, the Hufflepuff prefects were in hot debate. The seventh year male prefect, Bryn Llewellyn, shook his head at the others, saying, "If we stick together, we should be all right. We can deal with the troll if we come across it."
Primula Macmillan hissed furiously, "The Headmaster never thinks of Hufflepuff. Never!"
Llewellyn shrugged in resignation. "We'll keep the kids in the middle. Come on, then." More loudly, he called out, "Follow me! Stick together and stay with us prefects! If we stay together we've nothing to fear!"
Harry glanced up at the Head Table. Professor McGonagall was talking very excitedly to the Headmaster, her face angry and disapproving. Professor Snape-was gone. Harry caught a glimpse of black robes vanishing through a door behind the table. With a jolt of fear, he looked back at Quirrell. The faint had not lasted long. The turbaned professor was already up, slinking away, head down and saying nothing to anyone. He was making for the great doors.
This is it! Harry thought in panic. He'll go after the Stone while everyone is distracted!
He squeezed into the line of Hufflepuffs hurrying to the exit. Quirrell was out the door and around a corner. The students, slower and confused, jammed together as all four tables reached the doors at the same time. Prefects called to their charges. Some of the professors were coming to help. Harry took advantage of the pandemonium to slip under Llewellyn's arm, glad for once that he was small. He pushed through the thronging students, trying to get out and see where Quirrell was going.
"Harry, wait!" Draco saw his friend hurrying through the crowd, a set, determined look on his face. At first Draco meant to call Harry over and walk part of the way to the dungeons with him. In an instant, though, he understood the reason for Harry's rush.
It's Quirrell! It was all a trick!
"Time to go!" he muttered, shoving Blaise and Daphne out of his way. An argument was breaking out between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw prefects. Draco clung to the walls, and was away before anyone could notice him, hard on Harry's heels. He heard footsteps ahead-light running steps.
In the Great Hall, Minerva McGonagall, thinking at once of Harry, had persuaded the Headmaster that sending half the children in the direction of the troll was not a sound plan.
The Headmaster sent out more sparks, and declared, "On further thought, it would be best if you all remained in the Hall and finished this splendid feast. Return to your seats at once. Prefects-see that no one leaves until I return. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, with me. The rest of you, remain with the students."
With that, he led the Heads of Houses out the little door through which Snape had previously exited. The confusion, already great, was even worse now. Some students had left the Hall and had to be recalled. A milling mass was at the doors, some pushing to get in, and some (who had not heard the Headmaster's words) still pushing to leave. With considerable effort, the students were herded back to their tables.
Hermione had noticed that Quirrell was no longer on the floor. Where had he gone? It was a disgrace that the Defense Professor had come panicked and fainting into the Great Hall, unable to deal with a troll.
Except-
It took her only a moment to come to the logical conclusion.
Quirrell did it deliberately-as a diversion!
She searched the room for Harry-and then for Draco-and then was relieved to see Neville at the Gryffindor table. But where were the other two boys?
"Oh, Harry! You didn't!"
Harry found his observation post deserted. He immediately called for Muffy, and rounded on her.
"Muffy! Where have you been?"
"Master Harry! We watches for Professor Purple Hat, just like you tells us. But we only watches when he comes near this room. House elves has their own ways of knowing where professors is."
Harry thumped the wall in exasperation. "You haven't seen him?"
"No, Master Harry. He is not been coming this way."
"All right then. I'm sorry I yelled at you. You go on back now, and I'll watch here for awhile."
The house elf appeared about to object, and then winced with pain at the thought of such defiance and popped away.
In a moment, Draco came pounding down the corridor.
"Harry!" he whispered loudly.
"Around here!" Harry whispered back.
Draco hurried into the club room, and in a moment stepped behind the decorative screen.
"There you are! Any sign of Quirrell?"
"Not yet. He might double back, though."
"What's this?" Draco asked, his finger tracing the tiny circle of the Eye.
"Finn's Eye. It's a thing I learned. You can't see it from outside, but you can see what's going on all the way along the corridor."
Draco tried it, and was impressed. "That's brilliant! How do you cast it?"
"Well..." Harry knew Professor McGonagall would not like him blabbing about her personal Family Magic. "-It's complicated. Listen, Draco! I think Quirrell might be going after the Stone tonight, while everyone's distracted. If we see him, we'll need to get word to one of the Professors, but I don't know where Professor Snape went. He ran out the back door as soon as Quirrell came in."
Draco nodded sagely. "He probably went to guard it right away. He said there were protections. If Quirrell comes, we should let him go by. He's bound to run into Professor Snape, and then he'll be sorry. When we see him, we should run back to the Hall and find-somebody..."
"Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick, I reckon. We could tell the Headmaster, but I've never spoken to him."
Scoffing at the idea, Draco said, "I have. He'd probably ignore us. Flitwick is all right. I suppose McGonagall is, too. She's certainly a competent witch. Even Father thinks so."
"Yes, she is," Harry agreed, peering anxiously through the Eye. "You'd be amazed at the things she knows."
Snape entered Fluffy's lair very warily, looking in to see if the trapdoor had been disturbed. No one appeared to have entered tonight, other than himself.
The Cerberus roused itself and glared at Snape, its chains rattling. Instead of glaring back, Snape whistled a formless, aimless tune to keep the monster pacified. A rumble indicated that Fluffy was not certain that Snape's efforts qualified as music. With a sneer, Snape ducked back out of the chamber, closing the heavy door behind him. He would wait in the shadows of the corridor.
"Everyone's a critic," he snarled.
With growing anxiety, Hermione watched the tables to see if Harry or Draco had returned. The other students had settled back and were digging into the food, talking and speculating all the while.
The other Hufflepuff first-years were gathered at their places, but were not eating very heartily. Hermione saw their heads together, as they held a whispered conference. Cedric Diggory was leaning over, asking them a question, a frown on his handsome face. Susan Bones shook her head, and Cedric's frown deepened.
Hermione glanced at the Slytherin table. Draco had not returned, and there was talk there, too. Why weren't they doing anything? What if something happened to Harry and Draco? Would they try to confront Professor Quirrell all on their own? What if they stumbled on the troll? What if they stumbled on the troll and Professor Quirrell at the same time?
It was impossible to remain seated. Hermione jumped up, ignoring the hisses and complaints of the other Ravenclaw girls, and looked for someone to help her. A grown-up. A teacher.
Oh, thank goodness! Just the person!
Time passed, and Harry and Draco grew bored. They were hungry, too, having missed the feast entirely.
"I don't think he's coming," Draco declared. "I think he was just having us on. Maybe he wanted to see what Dumbledore would do in an emergency."
Harry was inclined to wait a little longer, but admitted that Draco was probably right. If Quirrell hadn't come by now, he likely wouldn't come at all. Or perhaps-Harry hated the very thought-he had found a different way to the Stone. That was a very distressing idea. He considered another possibility.
"Maybe Professor Snape has already caught him. Maybe he's taken him to the Headmaster's Office and Quirrell's already locked up."
Draco liked that idea. "And everyone's having their dinner now, except us. Come on, Harry, let's go back to the Great Hall. Maybe those gluttons have left something."
The two boys left the room and headed back down the hall. Harry felt a little disappointed. It would have been so glorious to have captured Quirrell in the act. Still, it would be nearly as good if Professor Snape had done it and got all the credit. He wondered if the Professor would get some sort of prize. He was about to ask Draco what sort of awards someone could get for heroic deeds in the wizarding world, when the light changed down the hall. He glanced up.
"Wait," he said, putting out his hand to clutch at Draco's robes.
A thud. Heavy, shuffling footsteps. The sound of something dragged along a stone floor. A darker shadow amidst all the others. With a trickle of dread, Harry shrank against the wall, pulling Draco with him. Draco nearly objected, when he saw the look on Harry's face.
They had passed a statue of John Dee, Sorcerer Royal, not ten paces back. The two boys slid behind it, trying to be silent and invisible. Harry thought of the Invisibility Cloak of his play and wished with all his might that he had one of his own. Beside him, Draco's breathing was quick and shallow.
A monstrous shape took form as the shuffling grew closer. In the dim light, the creature looked grey all over; and a stench, faint at first, became almost a revolting, corporeal thing. The troll grunted with every breath as it stumped along on legs like tree trunks. Its tiny head perched grotesquely on the huge, misshapen body.
Harry stared at it in horror. It had to be at least twelve feet tall. The scraping sound he had heard was the sound of an enormous wooden club dragging on the stone floor whilst clenched in a mighty fist. Harry wanted to look at Draco, in hopes that the other boy would have a confident expression on his face, but he was afraid to turn his head lest he make a noise and attract the smallest iota of attention.
The troll paused, waggled its long ears, and then continued down the corridor. Harry's mouth was dry, and he licked his lips. It was moving away-it had its back to them.
And then it paused again. And sniffed. And then sniffed again-long and deep. Another pause.
With a "Whuff!" of indignation, the troll swung its massive bulk to stare in their direction. Its squinting eyes narrowed at the sight of the marble statue, and the club was raised and then was coming down-down-
"Run!" Harry shouted.
"Run!" Draco screamed.
The club crashed down, and the air was full of marble splinters. Draco was hit by a ricochet and stumbled into Harry. The boys fell together, knees and elbows bruising, and the troll paused, studying the small, shrill-voiced creatures scrabbling along the floor.
Deciding that they looked tasty enough, the troll took a heavy step in their direction. Harry scuttled back crab-wise, fumbling for his wand. Draco clutched at his knee, moaning. Watching the troll advancing, one thudding step, then another, Harry tried to think of a spell-any spell-to stop it. His mind had gone blank.
"Incendio!" he bellowed. The troll's club blazed up like a torch. Draco rolled over on his back, trying to get up. The boys thought Harry's spell might help, until the troll stared at the burning club, and with an approving grunt, decided that it liked it. It advanced on them again.
"Good one, Harry!" Draco gritted out. "Now he can cook us before he eats us!" He thrust out his own wand, and gabbled out, "Tarantallegra!"
This did slow down the troll, who began a ponderous sort of dance: "Thump-ump! Thump-ump!" Another double step, this time in their direction. "Thump-ump! Thump-ump!"
Harry swore at his robes. He yanked on Draco, trying to help him up. "-If it doesn't stamp us to mince first!"
The troll bared its brown teeth, moving a little faster. In desperation, Harry yelled out the spell he had learned that very day. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The flaming club flew out of the troll's hand and hovered over its head. With a grunt of outrage, the troll reached up to grab at it.
Draco gasped out, "Wingardium Leviosa," and the club edged up, just a little higher.
Distracted, the troll snatched again and again, roaring its fury. The boys worked together to keep the club away from the troll, and the troll attempted a pathetic, thundering attempt at a hop to get at it.
"This is fun!" Harry laughed.
A mistake. Not even a troll likes being teased. It lost interest in the club, and glared its tormentors, head down, ready to charge.
"I think-maybe-" said Harry, grabbing onto Draco, "-that we should-"
"Harry! Draco! Get behind me!"
Charity Burbage rushed past them, gleaming in her feast robes and jewels. "Stupefy!" she shouted at the troll.
A red light shot out of her wand, hitting the troll in the chest. The creature paused, surprised and bewildered, its jaw slack.
"Get back to the Great Hall!" she ordered the boys. "Go!"
"We can't just leave you here!" Harry protested.
The levitation spell dissipated, and the fiery club crashed to the floor behind the troll in a shower of sparks.
"Go!" she yelled at them in exasperation. The troll was moving again. "Stupefy," she screamed, her voice cracking, putting every ounce of power she had into the hex. She ground her teeth in vexation. She had been told often enough that she was useless at Defense. She had barely scraped an O.W.L. in it.
The troll stopped moving, and stood there, puzzled.
Snape heard the noise as he was coming down the staircase after his fruitless wait for Quirrell. He broke into a run.
What is going on?
He was halfway down as he saw a mass of fire fall to the floor of the corridor. In the lurid light he could make out that blasted troll, and just beyond a young woman battling the creature. Harry was behind her, his voice high and childlike, his eyes wide.
It was a shocking, horrifying sight. The woman's hair glowed red and had fallen in tendrils about her face. One arm was out, sheltering Harry. For a moment, it seemed-
"Sectumsempra!" he roared. "Diffindo! Reducto!"