"What!"

Harry was sitting in the library with Anthony, who had gotten a lot of new books for Christmas. When Harry had asked how his break had been, he had immediately and enthusiastically begun explaining a theory he'd found in one of them that sounded very worrying.

"It's a muggle theory, only they use decaying atoms and a machine with a killing device attached to it pointed at them behind a curtain, instead of runes and levitation spells."

"It sounds suicidal," Harry said doubtfully.

"The muggles do call it 'Quantum Suicide'," Anthony said eagerly. "The idea is that you die in this universe, but you couldn't possibly know it, because the whole thing is random and you can't see the weight above your head, so you move on to the next universe without realizing you died in the first one, and that proves that there are multiple universes out there. But because everyone in your universe sees you die, there's no way of telling if it'll work until you try it for yourself."

Harry was starting to become extremely worried that Anthony was leading up to asking him if he wanted to try it, and was therefore enormously relieved when he saw Hermione enter the library with Dudley and another Gryffindor Harry remembered as the boy who'd fallen off his broom during their first flying lesson.

"That's really cool, Anthony," he said. "Hey, er, I'm just going to go say hello to Hermione, okay?"

"Have fun," Anthony said, going back to his book contentedly.

Harry walked over to Hermione's usual table, where she, Dudley, and the boy (Harry was pretty sure his name was 'Longbottom') were setting their bags down and pulling out papers.

"Hi," he said, sitting down next to Dudley. "Doing homework already?"

"Of course," Hermione said. "How's Anthony doing?"

"He's doing great…I think he wants to try and kill me for an experiment."

Hermione nodded with a slight frown. "You're going to say no, right?"

"Of course."

"Good. Oh, and this is Neville Longbottom." She turned to Longbottom, who had been very quiet so far, and smiled. "Neville, this is Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you," Neville said politely, holding out a hand for Harry to shake. "I've heard a lot about you."

Harry shook his hand. "I've heard a lot about me, too. It's strange."

Neville laughed, and Hermione said, "He's going to be studying with us from now on."

Harry nodded. "Happy to have you, Neville." He glanced at Hermione again and asked, "So have you had any luck finding out about the stone?"

"Oh!" She jumped in her chair and reached down for her bag. "I'd nearly forgotten to tell you!" She pulled out the book she'd shown Harry before, the one with the section on magical stones, and opened it about halfway through. "I saw a biography on Dumbledore in one of my other books, so I looked at that, and it mentioned that he had worked with Nicholas Flamel at one point, who, of course, created the Philosopher's Stone!"

Harry's eyes widened as he read the passage detailing the discovery and uses of the Stone. "So you think Dumbledore is keeping it for Flamel?"

"It has the closest connection to Dumbledore I've found," Hermione explained. "It's the best choice."

"And look at what it does," Harry said. "Makes gold and makes you immortal. What do you say to that, Hermione?"

"I say it could still be greed," Hermione said stubbornly. Harry gave her a skeptical look. "But I suppose the immortal part is likely to be for Voldemort."

"What?" Neville cried suddenly, nearly upsetting his ink bottle. "What are you talking about You-Know-Who for?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Neville, I forgot some people don't like hearing his name," Hermione said apologetically, glancing around to make sure no one had heard Neville's outburst. "I won't say it any more if you don't want me to."

Neville still looked horribly confused. "It was just a shock, that's all. You just said it out of nowhere. Could I ask why?"

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. What were they supposed to say? 'We think Professor Quirrell is a Death Eater trying to resurrect Voldemort'?

"Harry thinks Professor Quirrell is evil and working for Voldemort," Dudley said absently. Neville flinched again. "Hermione thinks Harry is crazy and that Quirrell is just really greedy. They think he wants to steal that stone they were talking about, because the headmaster is keeping it hidden behind that three headed dog in the third floor where everyone isn't supposed to go, and Harry overhead Snape threatening Quirrell over it when he was sneaking around one night."

Neville blanched. Hermione glared at Dudley.

"What?" he asked in surprise. "You think I don't pay attention when you two go on about all that? It's interesting."

"Dudley, just do us a favour and don't tell anyone else," Harry said, thinking that he had been exactly right that Dudley would have told his parents about Harry's money if he hadn't convinced Hermione to make him swear an oath. "Alright?"

"Okay, okay," Dudley said, rolling his eyes. "Hermione, can I have a break?"

"Twenty minutes, then come back," Hermione said with a nod. Dudley left, and she looked over at Neville, who seemed to be staring at them both in shock. "You won't tell anyone, will you Neville?"

"Do you really think Professor Quirrell is a Death Eater?" Neville asked fearfully.

"No," Hermione said consolingly.

"Yes," Harry said at the same time. They looked at each other.

"We haven't decided yet," Hermione compromised. "Don't worry about it, though."

"It sounds like something to be worried about, if you ask me," Neville muttered.

"But if Harry's right, and Professor Quirrell is a Death Eater," Hermione reasoned, to both Harry and Neville. "Then Snape is already dealing with it, and we don't have to worry about it. Do we, Harry?"

Harry frowned. He'd been afraid Hermione would say something like that.

"But how do you know Snape isn't helping Quirrell?" Neville asked suddenly. Harry and Hermione looked over at him in surprise. He blushed at the sudden attention, but continued. "I mean, did you know he was a Death Eater in the last war?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, but didn't Dumbledore pardon him?"

Neville nodded. "That's true. I suppose I can just really see him doing something like this."

"It doesn't make much sense with what Harry heard," Hermione said. "He heard Snape telling Quirrell off for threatening the students and trying to steal the stone…"

"Maybe he thought Quirrell wasn't being subtle enough?" Neville argued. "Maybe he thought he was going to get them caught?"

"I don't know…" Harry said thoughtfully. "But if that was the case, Hermione, then just leaving it up to Snape to take care of things will only make it all worse."

Hermione sighed. "Neville, you do make a good point, but it's extremely unlikely. And Harry, let me emphasize this for you. Extremely unlikely. Let's not decide Snape is evil because you want to handle this on your own."

Harry agreed unwillingly. Sometimes Hermione could be too persuasive.

Months passed, and winter turned into spring. Harry kept an eye on Quirrell, and Snape now too, but did nothing about the Stone.

He pleaded exhaustion to Filch, because of schoolwork (Hermione had them studying for exams already) and Quidditch piled on top of having a job, and Filch agreed to lessen his work schedule to once a week. Harry, who felt slightly guilty over this, convinced Hermione to start studying cleaning charms with him in their spare time, and now Harry was able to fit three days worth of cleaning into one.

Draco had now begun routinely pestering Harry about borrowing his cloak. It was a late night in mid-April when Harry finally broke down and agreed to a late night trip to the kitchens.

"Don't get caught, you two!" Blaise called from next to his bed, where he was pulling on his pyjamas.

"Bring me back something," Theo requested as they disappeared under the cloak. "Some biscuts, or something."

"Let's bring him back spinach," Draco whispered as they left the dorm. Harry laughed.

"You're mean, Draco."

"Oh, come on," Draco said cajolingly. "It'd be funny!"

Harry shushed him as they entered the common room. There weren't many people left at this late hour, and none of them would notice the door opening on its own if they were quick.

"This is so wicked," Draco whispered. Harry wasn't the only one picking up on Blaise's slang. "I could kick Adrian Pucey right now, and he'd never know it was me."

"We're going to the kitchens, Draco." Harry said quietly. "You're not kicking anyone. Why we have to go all the way down there when you could just tell the house elves to bring you something is beyond me, anyway."

"It's the spirit of the thing, Harry!" Draco argued. "Have a sense of adventure!"

It took them a while to find the kitchens, despite the directions Draco had extracted from a house elf earlier. They spent twenty sugar-filled minutes stuffing their mouths and pockets, and soon they were saying goodbye to the house elves and heading back to their dorms.

"I can't believe you actually got him spinach," Harry said with a laugh.

"I can't wait to see the look on his face," Draco said happily. "And you got him biscuts, didn't you? No harm, no foul."

They turned a corner and stopped short. Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration teacher, was patrolling the corridor just ahead of them. Harry suddenly realised that they'd forgotten the Invisibility Cloak in the kitchens.

Draco grabbed Harry's arm and started backing them down the corridor in the direction they'd come from. It was too late, though.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall descended on them in an instant and had them both by the ear.

"Er-"

"We-"

"Detention for both of you!" McGonagall snapped. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you! Mr. Potter, I would have expected better of you!"

Harry and Draco trudged sadly along with Filch toward the gamekeepers's house the next night. Filch had already told Harry apologetically that he couldn't excuse him from this one; Hagrid had specifically requested that he take the next detentions so that he would have some help with whatever it was he was doing in the forest.

Draco was not happy with having to go into the forest, and after Filch left, complained to Harry under his breath that it was called the Forbidden Forest for a reason. Harry agreed sympathetically and told Draco that he could hold Harry's hand if he got too scared. Draco glared at him, and they spent the rest of the walk to the forest traipsing along behind the gamekeeper in a sullen silence as he explained that they were looking for something that was killing unicorns. Harry still wasn't very happy that Draco's insistence on wandering around at night had gotten him a detention that even Filch couldn't get him out of, one that involved hunting something that would kill a unicorn, even, and Draco still hadn't apologized. Draco just was lucky that the house elves had brought his Cloak back when asked. Harry had been worried it might have been lost for good.

They were well into the forest by the time they reached a split in the path. Unicorn blood pooled on the ground both ways, and Hagrid split them up. Harry opted to go with Fang and started off down a trail by himself after assuring Hagrid that he knew the spell to send sparks into the air.

Harry followed the trail until he found the unicorn, dead already. Unfortunately, he also found whatever it was that had killed it. As he fell to his knees, pain splitting his scar open, something leapt over Harry's head, charging the creature.

"He actually told you that Voldemort is here, at Hogwarts?" Hermione said worriedly. "How would he know?"

"He seemed to know quite a lot that I wouldn't have thought he would," Harry said tiredly. He hadn't slept very much the night before. "He knew about the Stone, and that we know about it. How would he have found out all that?"

It was the next morning, a Sunday, and Harry had brought Draco and Blaise with him to the library to meet Hermione so that he could talk it over with all of them at once. Dudley and Neville were still in bed, as it was quite early.

"Your scar was hurting, Harry," Blaise reminded him. "That only happens when Quirrell is around. I'll bet that thing in the forest was him."

"Firenze told me that the unicorn blood keeps you alive inches from death," Harry said suddenly. "Isn't Voldemort supposed to be half dead?"

"What, do you think Quirrell is Voldemort in disguise?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Would you two stop saying his bloody name?" Draco asked in irritation.

Harry and Hermione looked over at Draco and realised that he was looking rather pale.

"Look," Blaise said softly. "If that centaur was right, and…You-Know-Who is really in the castle, and he really wants this Stone to bring him back to power, then the last thing you should be doing is saying his name like you two are."

"I've read about why people don't like saying his name," Hermione said. "They think there's a curse on it, right?"

Draco and Blaise nodded uneasily.

"I've also read that that's just rubbish spread around by his followers to create fear," she finished pointedly. "Harry and I have been saying it all year, and nothing's happened to us!"

"Aside from finding out that the Dark Lord is at the same school you are, this close to coming back to full power and killing you both," Draco snapped. "It might be rubbish and it might not, Granger, but either way, it's not necessary to say it so damned often. We're trying to concentrate here."

Hermione gave in with only a mildly irritated look on her face, and Harry was impressed. He'd never won an argument with her that quickly.

"Alright, anyway, Harry. You know what we have to do, right?"

"We could -"

"Tell a teacher." Hermione said firmly. "Snape, preferably, as he seems to have a notion of what's going on and would be less likely to dismiss it all."

Blaise sighed. "She's right, Harry. We should tell Snape. He's already suspicious of Quirrell, if that conversation you overheard meant anything we thought it did, and he'll handle it."

"But what if he doesn't?" Harry asked in frustration. "What if he's working with Quirrell, like Neville said, remember? What if he just tells us not to worry about it, and the next thing we know, Vol- You-Know-Who, sorry, is back in power and killing us all?"

"Harry, are you going to take Neville Longbottom's word over ours?" Draco exclaimed. "Snape was a spy, remember? He'll help us, you'll see."

And then Hermione, Blaise and Draco were all standing up and looking at Harry expectantly, and he had no choice but to follow them down to Snape's office.

"I see," Professor Snape said, tapping his desk with one long finger. They had just told him their suspicions, leaving out anything that would get them detention, of course. "So you think that Professor Quirrell is trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone that this centaur told you was hidden behind a Cerberus in the third floor corridor, because Professor Quirrell's class makes Mr. Potter's head hurt?"

Put like that, it sounded a bit ridiculous, and Harry nearly began to doubt it himself. Blaise and Draco looked slightly uncomfortable. Fortunately, Hermione was there.

"Yes, sir," she said confidently. "It isn't just that his head hurts. He can't concentrate at all when it happens. It's very painful; we've all seen it happen to him, but only when Professor Quirrell is around. And the same exact thing happened to him when he was in the forest, with the creature that was drinking the unicorn blood. It all seems to fit, sir."

Professor Snape looked at them all contemplatively. "I will bring this to Professor Dumbledore's attention," he said, and Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking.

After they'd been ushered out, Hermione said goodbye and went back to the library. She seemed happy enough about the situation. Harry wasn't, though. He wasn't any more certain than before that Snape would do as he'd said he would.

Harry didn't say anything, though, until that night before bed. Blaise put his pyjamas on and went straight to sleep, and Harry immediately went over to Draco's bed.

"Draco, can we talk?" Harry had decided that Draco would be the least likely to try to talk him out of what he was about to say.

Draco, who was already under the covers at this point, looked up at him expectantly. Harry sat down at the foot of the bed, crossing his legs and gazing seriously at him.

"I don't trust Snape," he said without preamble.

Draco sighed. "We already told him, Harry. It's too late for that."

"No," Harry said forcefully. "It isn't too late. He's still not done anything about it."

"He hasn't had very much time, Harry," Draco said uncertainly.

"He's had since this morning," Harry said. "And we haven't heard a thing."

"It's the weekend," Draco reasoned. "We're not likely to hear much about the teachers."

Harry frowned. "Alright then. How about this, Draco. If, come Monday, Quirrell isn't gone, or if there isn't at least some sign that Professor Dumbledore is doing something about him, then I'm taking this into my own hands."

"Harry," Draco tried.

"No, honestly, Draco, I feel it," Harry interrupted unhappily, rubbing his scar. "I know it's Quirrell. I just know. And if the teachers are going to ignore that, then I won't."

Draco stared at him for a moment, waging an internal battle. Harry stared back calmly.

"Don't do anything without telling me first," Draco finally said. "I want to come with you."

Harry blinked, then smiled.

"Deal."