AN: Hello again lovelies! Depending on circumstances, this is either your second- or third-to-last chance to vote before the decision is WRITTEN IN STONE(ISH)! So vote! Poll on profile or comment under chapter!

Much love and gratitude to you ALL! Sorry again for the hasty tone of the update. One day I may go back and make all this brilliant, but today is not that day.

"Harry Snape," it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor…I have form only when I can share another's body…but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks…and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own…"

"You won't get it," said Harry defiantly, trying desperately to control the vomit that threatened to work its way up into his throat at the horrible sight before him. "You'll never get it, you'll never get the Stone, I'm the only one who knows where it is…"

"Foolish boy!" Harry could have sworn the tongue that hissed the words was forked liked a snake. "I see all…I can see into your very mind…you can hide nothing from me…"

No!

Harry stared at the horrible face. So this was why Quirrell wanted the Stone: to get Voldemort back. Harry wouldn't, couldn't, let that happen; he couldn't let him get the Stone; he couldn't let him read his mind. Maybe it was too late, though. Maybe Voldemort had already seen, had already scanned his memories…but maybe not. And if not, there had to be a way to keep him out….

Fill my mind. Fill it so he can't push the door open. Hide it, hide it away…hide behind what?

Of course.

And without trying, without thinking, in the split second after Lord Voldemort told Harry that he could read minds, Harry's was full to the brim of the little red-haired girl with a gap in the side of her mouth, with freckles on her nose, with bright brown eyes, with her high piping little voice saying I like you…

Ginny, that was her name

He focussed, flooding his mind with pictures of the girl, concentrating on protecting his own mind.

Draco said it was Jenny but it's Ginny, Ginny

He was suddenly aware of a feeling like icy cold fingers probing the inside of his head.

Ginny is usually short for something, maybe Ginnifer, that's a name, isn't it?

Ginny likes me, gap-toothed red-haired freckle-nosed helpful wants-to-go-to-Hogwarts Ginny, just one more year, Ginny, it'll go by fast, don't worry

And then she said she liked me

"Natural Occlumency," whispered the high voice of Lord Voldemort. "Your father was skilled at that, too; he hid his real intentions for all those years…No matter. I have all I need. It's in a jar of Invisibility Potion in your pocket."

The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me…or you'll meet the same end as your parents."

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

No one ever liked me before. Not my cousin, not my aunt and uncle, not any of my teachers, ever. Ginny was the first, the very first.

And I never said I liked her back. I never thought about it, I never said…

"Your little trick is no use, Snape, I know everything. Give me the Stone. Stop trying to be brave…your parents were brave…they needn't have died…but they were determined to protect you…if you don't give me the Stone now, they will have died in vain…"

"Never," said Harry.

"SEIZE HIM!" screamed Voldemort. Quirrell sprang toward Harry, hands outstretched; Harry ducked and began to run but the next second he felt Quirrell's hand grip a fistful of his bathrobe and pull. Harry yanked away; the bathrobe came off in Quirrell's hands. Harry knew what was going to happen next and he threw his arms over his head.

As the bathrobe left Harry's shoulders, the invisible pocket gaped open and a very visible jar with greenish sludge inside materialised. It seemed to hang suspended in the air for a moment, then did a graceful somersault and hit the stone floor with a crash, splattering the walls, the ceiling, the suit of armour, the prone professor, and the evil overlord with Invisibility Potion.

"Master!" cried Quirrell. His head hung in the air over his invisible cloak; his head with the face on the back. "Master, the Stone…"

"The boy first, kill him first!" shrieked Voldemort. Quirrell raised his wand and pointed it directly at Harry. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, if he tried he would die, if he didn't try he would die; he would die protecting the world from Voldemort…

I'm sorry I never said I liked you, Ginny…

"Avada Kedavra!"

Thump.

And for a long moment, stretching into seeming eternity, the corridor was quiet.

"This way! I found Arbutus! He's in his underwear!

"Oh, honestly, don't be ridiculous, his clothes are just invisible, look at the floor…"

"Harry!"

"Oi, Snape! Where the bloody hell are you?"

"Harry! You around, mate?"

"Harry, Harry are you dead? Please don't be dead, say something, it's all right, come out, please!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was staring at the ceiling. Funny, he thought. The afterlife looks an awful lot like Hogwarts. And afterlife apparitions sound an awful lot like…

"Harry, please be alive!" Hermione, and…

"If you don't come out, Snapey, I'm jinxing your bed to fling you out the window every time you try to lie down." Draco, and…

"Is he even here, do you think? Maybe he got away." Ron.

"Right, and the most powerful Dark Wizard in the history of the world just let him traipse off." Harry sat up. That voice was familiar, too. It was the voice he kept expecting to hear and never had, not until just a moment ago…

"Rennervate! Semper, my dear chap, up you get…"

And…no, that couldn't be right, that voice couldn't be here…

He got to his feet and turned around slowly, careful to make no noise, though he didn't really need to. Half a dozen people were scampering around, shouting and calling and arguing, making so much noise that Harry could have started tap-dancing if he'd wanted to and probably no one would have heard.

Voldemort-Quirrell was nowhere to be seen. Professor Arbutus and Professor Dumbledore stood in the middle of the corridor, talking; Arbutus was de-invisibling his clothes. Harry was surprised at how dignified someone could look in long johns and half a robe. Hermione, Draco, and Ron, looking very undignified, all had their wands drawn and were racing up and down the length of the hall shouting Harry's name. And, yes, the Coach was there…he stood off to one side, his face furrowed in deep concentration, twirling his wand and muttering under his breath.

"I'm here," said Harry. Ron and Hermione screeched to a halt near him and looked around wildly.

"Where? Where are you? Harry? Harry, say something else!"

"I'm right here, I'm fine. What happened? Where's Voldemort?"

Dumbledore and Arbutus had stopped talking at the sound of Harry's voice, and Potter stopped muttering and looked up.

"And what are you doing here, Professor Dumbledore? Quirrell sent you to London. And Coach…"

The three adults exchanged looks.

"Ah, yes, well," said Dumbledore, "no sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. As for the rest…"

"I think you should go up to bed, Snape," broke in Potter. He turned his back on them and began twirling his wand again. "Professor Dumbledore will explain in the morning, after…"

"Now, now, Professor, do you honestly they're going to be able to sleep without an explanation? Mr Snape, why don't you and your friends join me in my office for a cup of tea?"

Potter shook his head violently. "I'm not going to let you involve…"

"You heard Professor Dumbledore," said Arbutus quietly, his dark eyes glittering behind his glasses. "They deserve an explanation."