Disclaimer: Charity Burbage belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: So, after consulting Reddit, I learnt that in Britain, it's apparently not unheard of to have locks on all internal doors in older buildings and to leave keys in the locks to cover the keyhole and allow the room to be locked for privacy. So the scenario that JK Rowling wrote with the bathroom is actually plausible. Hermione was just thinking in terms of modern Health and Safety codes.

You know, the hardest part about this story is handling the constantly shifting viewpoint characters. Apologies if it's confusing because of that.

Update: corrected the part where I said Binns hadn't been fired.

Chapter 11: Burbage

Quidditch

"Well, I suppose I have to go ahead and read the next chapter," Professor Burbage said. "It should fit in before lunch."

"Hem hem. And are we going to discuss how a mountain troll got into the school?" Umbridge interrupted.

McGonagall rolled her eyes: "As the book will probably reveal, it was Professor Quirrell who let it in. And since he was the Defence Professor, doing a job that appears to be cursed, it wasn't that far out of the realm of the ordinary."

Umbridge assuredly noted McGonagall's emphasis, but she ignored it. "Very well, then. Continue, Professor Burbage."

"Alright…Chapter Eleven: Quidditch."

"This should be fun," Harry said sourly.

"Except for Quirrell trying to kill you," Hermione said, mistaking his meaning.

"Gee, thanks, Hermione," he groaned.

In the book, Harry was back to normal student activities like preparing for the first Quidditch match and reading up on the subject. Hermione was now "a bit more relaxed about breaking rules" and conjured a blue flame in a jam jar to keep them warm in the November air. And Professor Snape was naturally causing more trouble, including confiscating Harry's library book.

"'Library books are not to be taken outside the school,' said Snape. 'Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor.'

"'He's just made that rule up,' Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away."

"Yes, Severus, you did make that rule up," McGonagall interrupted. "I do hope that's not your usual practice."

Snape said nothing. Unfortunately, his actions in the story backfired, as it led to Harry finding out just why he was limping.

"'Blasted thing,' Snape was saying. 'How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?'"

That was finally enough for Umbridge to cast a suspicious eye towards Snape, but for that, he had an answer. "Before we have half the school engaging in wild speculation," he said, "I was checking on the third floor corridor to ensure that no one else was trying to use the troll as a distraction to break in. I think you'll recall that Professor Quirrell was the one who got himself killed involving himself in such mischief that year."

"Aw, Severus, you spoilt the ending," Flitwick said with a chuckle.

"If the students haven't heard of it by now, Filius, they're even more oblivious than they look," Snape replied. "I merely don't want anyone else jumping to conclusions like Potter did."

"Serves you right," McGonagall said.

"He was eavesdropping."

"And you were going out of your way to act suspicious."

"If you think that was 'going out of my way', this is going to be a long book," he grumbled.

Harry and Ron, however, were immediately convinced that Snape was trying to steal whatever was hidden on the third floor, although Hermione was sceptical.

"That didn't last long, did it?" Ron asked.

"Well, he was being suspicious," Hermione admitted.

Harry was characteristically nervous the day of his first Quidditch match. It wasn't something he felt so much anymore, at least when he actually got to play. He'd honestly had really bad luck with that. He ought to have played fourteen games in his career by now, but he'd only played seven. In any case, people chuckled at the recitation of Oliver's boilerplate speech and quite a bit more at Lee Jordan's and McGonagall's commentary. Professor Burbage did a decent job trying to mimic the way both of them sounded in the staff box, which made it that much funnier.

The game went well for a while, and Harry nearly caught the Snitch, which surprised him because it didn't sound like he'd remembered…until Marcus Flint blocked him and nearly knocked him off his broom. That was right. With the Quirrell/Snape thing, Harry had honestly forgotten that had happened. Now, it was coming back to him.

"Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, 'Send him off, ref! Red card!'

"'This isn't football, Dean,' Ron reminded him. 'You can't send people off in Quidditch—and what's a red card?'"

"They probably ought to be able to send people off in Quidditch," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I've thought that, too," Harry agreed, "but they have fouls for setting opponents on fire and attempted decapitation, so it's kind of designed to be bloody. It's the 'no substitutions' rule that gets me more."

"How does that even work?" she asked. "Couldn't you just win by knocking out all of your opponents?"

"Mutually assured destruction, I think," Harry said. "If you start, the other team'll hit back just as hard."

"And in the pro league, the team would get banned for the season," Ron said. "What's mutually assured destruction?"

Harry, Hermione, and Dean all looked at each other awkwardly. "Er…we'll explain later, Ron," Hermione said.

Meanwhile, in the story, Harry's bad luck continued as he lost control of his broom. The crowd didn't notice at first until it had nearly thrown him off, but he was glad to hear his friends had been watching. With Hagrid's explanation, Hermione put two and two together and scanned the crowd from someone cursing his broom, soon spotting on Professor Snape.

"You, Miss Granger?" Snape demanded, standing up from his feet.

"I'm sorry, Professor, it was a mistake," Hermione said.

"You set me on fire!"

Gasps and some laughter sounded from around the Great Hall, and Umbridge stood up: "Well, now, setting fire to a teacher, Miss Granger?"

Now, Hermione stood up, too. "I thought I was saving Harry's life, Professor," she said. "In my defence, it was an easy mistake to make."

Snare narrowed his eyes at her: "Are you implying something, Miss Granger?"

"No! It's just—there were only two people in that crowd staring at Harry without blinking and muttering something, and even if I had spotted Quirrell, he was the Defence Professor and didn't seem to have anything against Harry, and you were…"

"I was what?"

"Well…just like the book says, sir," she finished sheepishly.

"Miss Granger, an assault on a teacher is a serious matter—" Umbridge started.

"That will do, Dolores," McGonagall cut her off. "I told you before that punishments cannot carry over between years. Miss Granger acted, however unconventionally, in what she believed was the defence of her friend, and no one was seriously harmed, so it is purely an internal matter."

"I agree, Madam Umbridge," Kingsley chimed in. "Unless I hear something radically different from what I'm expecting, I have no probable cause to act."

Umbridge harrumphed and sat back down. So did Hermione, though she was shaking.

"You know, Severus," Professor Flitwick spoke up. "That was bad form, there."

"Excuse me? Bad form, Filius?" Snape replied in confusion.

"You spoilt the climax of the scene. Now we already know what's going to happen to you."

Everyone laughed, which relieved the tension, even though Snape was glaring like he would like to try his hand against Flitwick in a duel. Hermione took matters into her own hands and ran behind Snape's seat, by luck knocking Quirrell over on the way, thus breaking the real curse, and setting Snape's robes on fire as a "distraction".

"Hmm, it must have taken time to wear off if it didn't stop until thirty seconds after I knocked over Quirrell," Hermione mused uneasily. She sounded calm enough, but Harry could tell she was still worried about being expelled by Umbridge, or worse, arrested.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry whispered quietly enough that even their friends couldn't hear. "This can't go on that much longer, can it?" Hermione didn't answer.

In the book, Neville had been crying over Harry, which Harry hadn't known or expected—frozen with fear, he could have guessed, but crying? He looked over at Neville, who was turning bright red at the fact being revealed, but didn't say anything. Finally, Harry accidentally caught the Snitch in his mouth—somehow—winning the game for Gryffindor. The trio hung out with Hagrid afterwards, who insisted that Snape wasn't trying to kill Harry, but was more concerned that they knew about Fluffy.

"Fluffy?" was echoed from half the school as much as much as it was in the book. Of course, it was Hagrid, so it wasn't all that surprising in retrospect, but it was still worrying. Hagrid didn't say what Fluffy was guarding, but he did let slip that it involved Nicolas Flamel.

"Of course, everyone knows what it is now from the book title," Ron pointed out. "Would've been a lot easier if we knew that then."

"Why did Dumbledore trust Hagrid with that information anyway?" Hermione pointed out.

"Why not?" Harry said. "He'd trust him with his life, and so would I."

"And so would I," Hermione agreed, "but I wouldn't trust him with my secrets, and neither would you. Be honest."

"Well, yeah, I suppose…"

Hermione wrote it down:

10. Why did Dumbledore trust Hagrid (who is obviously bad at keeping secrets) with secret information?

The Quidditch incident ended the day's reading, which unfortunately meant there would be more of the same tomorrow. Minerva didn't know what grated on her more: the Sybill had been sacked, that nothing had been done about Severus, or just the fact that Dolores Umbridge was still working her will on the school. It hadn't been as bad as yesterday, but it was still a mess, and there were even more revelations she had to try to make sense of.

She was a little surprised when Severus was the first to enter her office after classes, but she didn't question it. She had a thing or two to talk to him about, too.

"Good evening, Minerva," he said. "We need to talk."

"Indeed, we do, Severus," she replied. "But so you know, I'm expecting Mr. Potter and his friends here shortly, so—"

"That will be fine, Minerva. I need to speak to them as well."

"Oh, you do? Well, that will make should make this simpler, then. But first, I need to ask…" She stood up from her chair and loomed over him, glaring as if he were an errant student. "Did you use Legilimency on Mr. Potter?"

Severus held his ground, although he had to force himself not to roll his eyes. "No, Minerva," he insisted, "I know I sometimes have that effect on people, but I have not used Legilimency on Potter or any other student until this year."

"And Mr. Potter's headache?"

"Quirrell, almost certainly. I can state with confidence it wasn't anything I did."

"Very well. That just leaves the matter of your teaching practises."

"And you have a problem with my teaching practises?" he said.

"Don't patronise me, Severus," Minerva snapped. "There have been serious problems with your teaching practises since the day you started here—your blatant favouritism of your house in the House Cup, for example."

"Considering the bias against Slytherin by most of the rest of the staff, I'd say that is a reasonable position."

"And the fact that Slytherin won or would have won the House Cup without Albus's intervention in ten of the past fourteen years is just a coincidence?"

"Stranger things have happened, Minerva. The House Cup has always been a glorified popularity contest anyway. You will note that I give out detentions for more clear-cut reasons, and I don't shy away from giving them to my own students."

"You're fairer with detentions, Severus. I don't think I would call you fair. And it's not just discipline. There's the way you conduct your classes—how you generally don't even try to lecture. Your grossly unprofessional behaviour towards any student you deem insufficiently gifted in your class, and I don't just mean Potter—although every time you talk about him you sound like you're talking about his father instead."

Severus opened his mouth with a sharp comeback, but the words died in his throat. The revelations of the past two days were too great for him to ignore. "You are right," he admitted. "I have been misjudging Potter since he came to this school. Had I known his true background, I would have regarded him differently."

"If you'd been paying attention, you mean," Minerva said. "Nonetheless, Longbottom, Finnegan, and others have received nearly the same treatment from you."

Severus scoffed: "Longbottom and Finnegan are walking disasters in the classroom."

"That's no excuse for being a piss-poor teacher."

"I have never claimed to be a good one."

"You've never tried to be a good one!"

Both teachers were silent for a minute. Eventually, Severus said, "What is it to you?"

"We both know that there is every chance that Albus won't return as Headmaster after the revelations today even if Fudge and Umbridge are deposed," Minerva said. "I am aware that Albus could not fire you because of your unique position and thus gave you nearly free reign, but the sword cuts both ways, Severus. Just as Albus couldn't fire you, you can't quit. And if I am running this school when this is over, I can find creative ways to make your life difficult that don't involve getting rid of you."

Severus seethed. He hated being in a position where the other person had all the power, and that happened often enough as it was these days. That Minerva was putting her foot down rankled even more. "What do you want?" he said.

"Make a serious effort at being a good teacher. Behave in a professional manner in front of the students. Do your job, Severus. That's all I'm asking."

He was about to acknowledge his reluctant agreement when there was a knock on the door. "Professor—" Hermione Granger started to say. "Oh, sorry. We can come back later."

"No, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," Minerva stopped them. "We all need to talk here. Please come in."

The three students awkwardly entered and sat down. They looked at Severus in particular, presumably wondering what he was there for. Severus spoke first: "Mr. Potter, I had an interesting conversation with Professor Umbridge this morning about where she found that book of hers."

"Oh, you found the answer?" Minerva asked eagerly.

"No. Unfortunately, the woman is smart enough to know Occlumency. I don't think she noticed me peeking in."

Harry shifted nervously in his seat.

"Mr. Potter, Professor Umbridge did give me one clue as to the origin of her book. She said that Professor Dumbledore was correct when he said, 'Help is always given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.' Do you have any idea what that might mean?"

Minerva pondered that comment. It was one of Dumbledore's usual platitudes that she hadn't thought to be of any practical value at the time. If anyone knew of some hidden meaning to the sentence, it would be Harry Potter, but she was disappointed. He looked between the two of them in confusion and said, "No, Professor. He said that to Ron and me the last time he was sacked, and later, Fawkes came to me in the Chamber of Secrets, but that doesn't have anything to do with the book."

"Unless Umbridge meant that Hogwarts helped her somehow," Hermione pointed out.

"No way," Ron said. "Why would Hogwarts help Umbridge even if it could?"

Harry's eyes widened slowly. "Because she…asked?" he said.

The three students all stared at each other. "Bloody hell, you don't think…?" Ron said.

"The Room…?" Hermione started. They all fell silent.

"Mr. Potter, if you have something to say, then say it," Snape said impatiently.

"There's a…" Harry looked to Hermione expectantly.

"There's a hidden room on the seventh floor," she said. "If you walk past it three times, it will turn into whatever kind of room you ask for."

"Really?" McGonagall said in surprise. She'd never heard of anything like that. "And you think Professor Umbridge could have stumbled on this room, and it provided the books for her?"

Hermione shrugged: "I need the true story of Harry Potter? It could happen."

"But how could it provide a book that was from the future?" Snape asked. "A book that contains a dream that Mr. Potter ostensibly didn't remember himself—Incidentally, Mr. Potter, do you remember the dream it mentioned?"

Harry shook his head: "No, sir. I believe it, though. It sounds like something I'd dream, and everything else in the book was right."

"Actually, Professor, I had a theory about that," Hermione said.

"Oh?"

Hermione had briefly been surprised that Severus knew about time travel, but she didn't hold back. She launched into a complicated explanation about how time travel worked that she must have got either from muggle literature or a lot of illicit experiments with her time turner. She was talking about loops in time and events causing themselves and things that basically boiled down to Harry publishing the books in the future and somehow sending them back to the past for Umbridge to get her hands on them. It all frankly gave Minerva a headache.

Severus, however, understood it perfectly. After reading some Robert Heinlein stories as a child that his parents probably shouldn't have let him read at that age, he probably understood time travel better than most Unspeakables. It did fit.

"I must admit, Miss Granger," he said, "that makes more sense than anything else I've heard over the past two days. Although at present, we don't have a copy of the book to enact such a scheme."

"Heh, that won't be a problem if Fred and George come through," Ron said smugly.

McGonagall and Snape stared at each other. "Don't tell me, Mr. Weasley. I don't want to know," McGonagall said. "Was there anything else, Severus?"

Snape thought for a minute and said, "Nothing urgent."

"Very well. Miss Granger, I assume you have more questions today?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione replied. "But first, can you tell us if you've heard from Professor Dumbledore at all."

McGonagall nodded: "I have, Miss Granger, although I was unfortunately unable to question him about your treatment with your relatives, Mr. Potter. He merely informed me that he agrees with our assessment that Professor Umbridge's book is from the future, and he can find no clue as to where it came from or who wrote it. He is still doing other work for the Order."

"Okay, then, I suppose there's nothing that needs to be revisited from yesterday," Hermione said. "Here are the questions we thought of today."

She handed over the list. McGonagall paled as she read it, then handed it to Snape, who also showed surprise at a couple of points. "This is…very interesting," Minerva said slowly. "To…take them slightly out of order…as far as I know, Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel really are dead. I attended their funeral in the summer of 1993. I admit that I did not see their bodies. The funeral was closed-casket, inside of which were presumably a pair of six hundred-year-old skeletons. But their death was reported by Professor Dumbledore, who told anyone who asked that the Flamels were ready to go on to the 'Next Great Adventure'."

"That's what he told me, too," Harry said.

"And I suspect it was at most half-true," she said bitterly. "I didn't know Master Flamel that well, but I strongly suspect he was spooked by the fact that the Philosopher's Stone had nearly been captured by You-Know-Who. You have to understand, the man was a brilliant alchemist, but he was not as gifted in other areas, including magical security. Have you ever wondered why Flamel, a Frenchman, was living in Devon when he died?"

The three students stared at each other. Clearly none of them had thought of that before.

"The Flamels fled from France to England during Grindelwald's War, seeking Professor Dumbledore's protection. They could not have stood up to a direct assault from Grindelwald himself."

Hermione's eyes widened. "But if that's true, why steal the Stone?" she asked. "Why not steal the Elixir of Life from Flamel himself?"

"I don't know, Miss Granger. There may be some alchemical reason why You-Know-Who needed a fresh batch. Just as there may have been some alchemical reason why Master Flamel could not just destroy the Stone and remake it as needed. I'm not familiar enough with the subject to say. Whatever the reason, it was this Stone that was important to You-Know-Who."

"I can answer your other questions about the Stone, Miss Granger," Snape cut in. "Professor Dumbledore was tracking the Dark Lord's movements through various methods for ten years, and for most of those ten years, the Dark Lord was hiding in Albania, too weak to act. As soon as he became active again, the Headmaster knew that he would have designs on the Philosopher's Stone. He also knew that no fortress, however secure—including Gringott's, regardless of the level of security—would truly be safe from the Dark Lord if he set his mind to breaching it. The safest place to keep it truly was here, under the Headmaster's nose."

"But under the school?" Ron said. "Why not in his pocket?"

"Or in his office under Fidelius?" Harry added.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "That I do not know, Potter. You will have to ask him when and if he returns."

"And why wasn't there at minimum an Age Line to protect the Forbidden Corridor?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know that either," McGonagall said. "And that's worrying. It's a serious oversight on my own part as well as his. Age Lines need to be renewed fairly regularly, but it would have been more than worth the trouble." She made a note of her own to investigate that one. "And as for trusting Hagrid…well, you will note that I pointed out my personal concerns about Hagrid in Chapter One," she said with a tight smile. "But the Headmaster is a very trusting man."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Harry said. He glanced at Snape subconsciously. It made him all the more unhappy with the fact that Dumbledore didn't seem to trust him anymore.

"And the bathroom door?" Hermione pressed.

McGonagall smiled a little more: "Why, Miss Granger, I thought you were so familiar with Hogwarts, A History."

"What—" she started, but then she smacked her forehead. "Oh, I feel like an idiot. The plumbing system at Hogwarts isn't original, is it?"

"No, it is not," McGonagall said. "That room was not a bathroom until the mid-1700s. And as for the key, I suspect Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley merely forgot to mention which side of the door they found it on."

Ron's ears quickly turned red. "Oh…yeah…" he said. "It was on the inside when we found it, wasn't it?"

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Boys," she said.

"Oi, you're one to talk. You're the one who didn't even know it was there."

Harry rolled his eyes at both of them. "Right," he said. "So what now?"

"Now, Potter?" Snape replied. "Now, we hope that finishing the book tomorrow gives Umbridge enough rope to hang herself. If you have nothing else to discuss, I suggest you go along to supper before you raise suspicion."

"Yes, Professor," the trio said, and they got up to leave.

"And Miss Granger," Severus called after them. She turned around. "In the future, I believe you can come up with a better way to deal with a crisis than setting a teacher on fire."

Hermione turned pink and answered, "Yes, Professor."

Albus Dumbledore read the letter Minerva had sent to him detailing the revelations that had been made that day with concern. As Severus had pointed out, it was likely that tomorrow would give Umbridge enough rope to hang herself, which would neatly get Cornelius's obstructionist regime out of the way. But the book was also revealing far more about the affair with the Philosopher's Stone than he would like. People were starting to ask questions he would rather not answer. And worse, Minerva now had some very serious concerns herself about his "mismanagement" of the school, even as Fudge had raised concerns about Minerva's own management—concerns that were easily verifiable and could very well stick even if Umbridge were discredited. If she and Fudge went down, they might still take Albus and Minerva with them, and that would be extremely treacherous ground.

He would need additional contingencies—other ways to get around whatever the Ministry might do. It would be tricky, but it should be doable.

But the most intriguing part was Miss Granger's speculation on the book itself: a closed time loop such as Albus had set up to save Sirius's and Buckbeak's lives. It was a brilliant plan, and it sounded more plausible than anything else he'd thought of so far. The one remaining puzzle was Harry's dream—the dream he himself didn't remember.

It was true, a Pensieve, Legilimency, or various other mind magics could, with difficulty, retrieve memories that a person did not consciously recall—even memories of dreams. On the other hand, Miss Granger's theory of a closed time loop solved those problems nicely without such complications. Of course, that would mean they couldn't be certain of the rest of the content of the book, if it popped out of thin air, but everything that was verifiable so far had been true. Copying it from the book in the first place would definitely be the easiest way to access the content of a lost memory. And the only other way was—

Dumbledore stopped cold. There was one other person who might possibly remember a dream that Harry himself didn't.

Voldemort.