As Harry and Hermione had learned, the first two weeks at Hogwarts following Summer holidays lessons were scheduled to acclimate first year students to classes and life at Hogwarts, and to revise instruction from the previous year for all other students. Their first introduction to Snape's horrible disposition had occurred on a Friday morning.

Regular class schedules had them in Potions three days a week, including the last period on Wednesdays, and they had for several weeks now taken to working as far away as possible from Ron and Neville, and Seamus and Dean, to give Snape even less of an excuse to blame Harry for the regular mishaps of the other Gryffindor boys in their year.

And so it was on the Wednesday before Halloween that Harry and Hermione were working at a table with Lavender and Parvati. Sally-Anne and Sophie worked at the other end of the table, and were closest to the table occupied by the other Gryffindor boys.

Snape had still managed to be as nasty as he possibly could to Harry at every opportunity, but as nobody at their table ever had any disastrous outcomes from their occasional minor mistakes, he seemed to have realised that he didn't have any remotely plausible reasons for blaming Harry for the catastrophes which befell Ron and Neville frequently, and Seamus, somewhat less frequently.

Which was a good thing, because Ron and Neville's latest calamity was perhaps the worst one yet. Usually it was Seamus's mishaps which ended up explosively, but not today. Ron and Neville had managed to turn their latest attempt to create a passable Wiggenweld Potion into a volcano. The lava had melted through the table and was slowly flowing across the stone floor of the dungeon cell, burning holes in shoes, and everyone was up in their seats, feet off the floor.

"WEASLEY, LONGBOTTOM!" Snape roared, spittle flying from his contorted mouth after vanishing the lava and putting out the fires. "Imbeciles! That's Twenty Five points apiece that you have cost Gryffindor, and detention for the both of you tomorrow after classes—"

"B-but, the Halloween feast…" Ron moaned, almost in tears. Even Hermione couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

"You should have thought about that before your attempt to recreate the eruption of Mt Vesuvius and the destruction of Pompeii," Snape snarled. Then he turned and glared viciously at Harry, apparently deciding to forget about the fact that Harry was nowhere near Ron and Neville's table.

"Potter!" he barked. "You—"

"Leave him alone!" Sally-Anne yelled, startling Snape.

"What? You dare—?"

"Harry didn't have anything to do with it, and you know it!" chimed in Sophie.

"And if you try to punish Harry again for something he didn't do, I'm telling Professor Dumbledore!" snapped Parvati. "I've had enough of it!"

"Yeah! That's right. We've all had enough of it," said Lavender, shooting daggers at Snape with her eyes.

Snape glowered at the Gryffindor girls with venom-filled eyes, but he was temporarily dumbstruck. He scowled at Harry.

"Well, then," he sneered contemptuously. "It would appear that your little groupies have come to your rescue, Potter. Perhaps you are innocent this time…" Then he glared at the girls again. "...but as for each of you, that's fifteen points apiece for speaking out of turn and cheek."

Then he spun around in a swirl of robes and stormed back to his desk.

Harry was completely bowled over, not to mention extremely embarrassed, amazed by the fact that all the girls had stuck up for him.

"Wow! Er… Th-thanks, guys," he stammered, his face burning almost as hotly as the lava flow. "You really didn't have to—I mean, it probably would have cost Gryffindor less points if I'd just taken it."

"That's not the point," said Hermione, beaming at the other girls. "Nobody cares about that any more."

"That's right, Harry," said Parvati. "It's about fairness…"

"...and we Gryffindors have to stick together," said Lavender, her nose in the air.

~o0o~

"What's the meaning of this, Severus?" snapped Professor McGonagall, after marching into his office at the end of the day. "One hundred and ten points vanished from Gryffindor during your last period, and I want to know why—in detail."

Snape narrowed his eyes cagily.

"Well, Minerva, as the head of your House, it's hardly appropriate to question my authority to conduct lessons as I see fit. You wouldn't want to be accused of favouritism, surely?"

"Don't play coy with me, Severus! … I am also the deputy headmistress of this school, and you and I both know who between us is the most likely to play favourites. Now give me the facts, and I will decide what recommendation to present to the headmaster regarding a review of your disciplinary measures."

"Very well," said Snape sulkily. "If you insist. Weasley and Longbottom nearly burned down the entire classroom with their ineptitude. That was fifty points between them and a detention together."

"And?" Professor McGonagall arched her eyebrows impressively. "What about the other sixty points?"

"Ah, that would be Potter's little girlfriends—" Snape knew his little dig would hardly benefit his cause, but he couldn't help himself.

"Excuse me!" Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose even higher, if possible.

"I meant his little fan club. They all insolently challenged my admonishment of Potter. They fully earned their fifteen points loss apiece, I can assure you."

"Did they really? And why would you admonish Potter?"

"Apparently, in his arrogance, Potter thought himself too good to sit with the other boys, and was working with Granger at the girls' table. Had he been monitoring his classmates progress, no doubt he could have prevented the disaster."

"That's absolutely preposterous!" McGonagall snapped. "Only the dormitories are gender specific, which you know full well, and students may partner with whom they like in classes, unless specifically assigned one for articulable reasons. ... Furthermore, are you saying that you have officially assigned Potter the role of classroom monitor or teacher's assistant?

"If so, that would be highly unusual for a first year, though, given Potter's reasonably sharp mind and diligence regarding his schoolwork, perhaps I could see why you might choose him. … Though, I would suggest that Granger's exceptionally advanced intellect might make her a better choice."

Snape's scowl deepened. Giving Potter credit for any display of intelligence was the last thing he had intended to convey.

"Perhaps I was in error," he conceded with a sneer. "Potter's inestimable mediocrity is undoubtedly why he chose to partner with Granger. Regardless, his lack of interest in improving the efforts of his housemates is worthy of admonition."

"I see," said Professor McGonagall coldly, her features now stony. "You have some sort of vendetta against Potter, for whatever ungodly reasons I do not know. But this childish petulance of yours is unbecoming of a teacher. … I will allow the points losses and the detention of Longbottom and Weasley to stand, but I shall be recommending to Dumbledore that he restore the sixty points you deliberately stole from Gryffindor."

She began to turn around to depart, then hesitated. Frowning, she addressed Snape once more.

"I think it only fair that you should know that I also intend to report your abominable attitude and behaviour towards Mr Potter to the headmaster."

"Do what you must, Minerva," said Snape, kicking himself now for letting his hate of Potter get the better of him.

~o0o~

Dumbledore sighed as he watched his deputy headmistress depart his office still fuming. He removed his half-moon spectacles and massaged his forehead before reaching into a desk drawer for a bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy which he reserved for occasions such as these. He poured himself half a snifter and added a twist of lemon, then took a long sip. He spotted Fawkes giving him a look.

"Indeed, Fawkes!" said Dumbledore, half-smiling. "I can see how this might appear amusing to you, but the situation is far more serious than it may appear at a glance."

The trill that Fawkes gave in response sounded a lot like a sigh of concession. This wasn't the first time that Dumbledore had experienced doubts about recruiting Snape to be sure, but during the waning days of the war he had put those aside for the sake of expedience. And after the death of the Potters, Dumbledore had been further reassured that Snape's quest for redemption was unwavering.

There had been little cause for doubt in the intervening decade between then and the arrival of Harry Potter at Hogwarts, except for the occasional nagging thoughts every time Snape put in a request for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professorship.

And every so often, whenever complaints from the students who belonged to Houses other than Slytherin reached his ears, Dumbledore couldn't help but be reminded that Snape under any other circumstances would have been an entirely unsuitable candidate to teach children. Indeed, even in muggle Britain, a man with Snape's history would have never been allowed anywhere near a school.

But by and large, all things considered, Snape had performed his duties reasonably well. Well enough that Dumbledore had been certain that Snape would hold to the promise that he had made. Now, that certitude had been shaken, and doubt once again nibbled at the corners of his mind. He was more glad than ever now that he had not informed Snape of his conversation with Harry and Miss Granger, nor of the added security measures he had taken following said conversation.

Dumbledore did not believe for even a single moment that Snape would outright betray him—Snape's desire for redemption was too strong—but was it strong enough to prevent him from doing more to put Harry Potter in harm's way than to protect him?

If Snape pushed Harry too far, the potential for reckless behaviour which might result from Harry's distrust and resentment could lead to Harry being placed in more danger, rather than less. That situation was untenable.

Dumbledore drained the rest of his snifter and sighed again. There was little he could do now but let things play out and see where things stood with Snape once Voldemort's agent at Hogwarts had been exposed and arrested. Of Snape's loyalty in that regard, at least, he had no doubt.

~o0o~

Harry sighed as he patiently watched Ron try to make the feather float again. He and Ron had been partnered up by Professor Flitwick. Hermione had been partnered up with Seamus, and Dean with Neville. Harry suspected that was because Professor Flitwick was hoping the more proficient students would be able to help the ones who were having more trouble with their spell-work.

At the moment, Ron was flinging his arm around like a propeller, and yelling at the feather.

"Stop! Ron, stop! Let me show you—" said Harry, suddenly interrupted by an explosion on the other side of the classroom.

He looked up to see scorch marks on Hermione's and Seamus's faces, and a feather in flames on the desktop in front of them. Hermione looked like she was about to go up in smoke herself, infuriated by Seamus's incompetence. Fortunately, Flitwick managed to get to them in time before she bit Seamus's head off.

"Never mind, never mind!" said Professor Flitwick, amiably passing them a new feather. Then he seemed to take stock of the glares Hermione was giving Seamus. "Perhaps a change of partner then, eh, Miss Granger? Maybe Longbottom instead? … Very well, Mr Thomas, it seems I was a bit hasty in splitting you and your friend up. You may as well rejoin Finnegan."

Still scowling, Hermione traded places with Dean, who tried valiantly to hide a chuckle. The rest of the class was less restrained, but the giggles quickly died down, and Harry returned his attention to Ron.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron shouted again, nearly knocking Harry's glasses off with his flailing arm.

"Blimey, Ron! Watch it! … You'll put someone's eye out—like mine!"

"Oh! Er… Sorry, Harry!" Ron's ears turned bright red. "Maybe you should try now," he mumbled.

"No problem," said Harry kindly. "Anyway, I already know how to do it. I just want to show you how to do it properly. Just look at my wrist movement carefully—swish..." Harry swished. "...and flick…" Harry flicked. "You try it now. Don't say the words, just do the movement. If you can catch a snitch, you can do this."

"Er… Okay, Harry," said Ron nervously. "If you say so."

Harry watched Ron swishing and flicking for about ten minutes, and demonstrated the movements several more times. Finally Harry reckoned Ron had the motion down close enough to get the job done.

"Okay, now we have to work on your pronunciation," he told Ron. "Repeat after me: Win-gar-dium."

"Wingardium."

"Almost! You have to sound like you're an announcer introducing the next act in a stage show or circus act."

Ron looked bewildered. Then Harry remembered that a lot of wizards had never watched a television, or participated in a school stage performance.

"Just listen to me, then try again: Win-gar-dium."

"Win-gar-dium."

"Okay, that sounds a bit better," said Harry. "Now, Levi-O-sa."

"Levio-sah."

"No, that's not it. Listen again: Levi-O-sa."

"Levi-O-sa."

"Better," said Harry, nodding approvingly. "Now try saying the words while swishing and flicking, but not with your wand yet."

Harry watched Ron swishing and flicking an "air-wand" while repeating the incantation a few times.

"Okay, I reckon, you're almost ready to try it for real," said Harry, grinning. "I'll just do one demonstration myself to show you, and then you have a go."

"All right," Ron agreed. "Let's see it then."

"Win-gar-dium Levi-O-sa," chanted Harry, swishing and flicking.

The feather floated several feet into the air.

Ron's eyes widened and he gasped. "Wicked! You really do already know how to do it."

"Oh, look," said Professor Flitwick, "Miss Granger and Mr Potter have both done it. Well done, you two."

Harry looked across the classroom and saw that she too was demonstrating for Neville, with whom she was getting on much better. They caught each other's eye and grinned.

"Okay," said Harry, after the demonstration. "You try it again now. Don't worry too much if you don't get it quite right at first. As long as you've got the basics, all you need is practice."

"All right then," said Ron, and he began practising.

By the end of the class, Ron managed to get the feather to flutter a few inches off the table, and he was in a much better mood… until he remembered that he and Neville had to do detention later that afternoon.

"Thanks, Harry," he sighed.

"You'll be fine," said Harry confidently. "Just keep practising and you'll have it flying in no time."

"No! I mean, that was brilliant! Really!" said Ron earnestly. "I'm just arsed because me and Neville have to scrub all the first floor toilets by hand this afternoon for detention. The Halloween feast'll probably be over by the time we've finished," he moaned.

"That's rotten luck!" Harry agreed sympathetically; cleaning the Dursleys' toilets was one of his least favourite chores. "Snape's an evil git!"

The rest of the day passed by quickly for Harry and Hermione, except for History of Magic, which was a snoozy bore as usual. Finally, it was time for dinner. He and Hermione entered the Great Hall together and took their seats, both gawking at the Halloween decorations.

Grinning jack-o-lanterns carved from pumpkins adorned the tables, their eyes and mouths glowing with warm, yellow candle-light. Skeletons and scarecrows were lined up against the walls. Swarms of bats fluttered around the Enchanted Ceiling, occasionally diving and flying low above the tables.

Hermione was a bit dubious of the bats, but she tried to ignore them as she reached for a baked potato. Harry, who had been rather appreciative of the bats at first, found himself agreeing with her sentiments when he felt a breeze as one flew right over his plate while he poured some gravy over his mashed potatoes. He prodded the potatoes and his pork chop, and pushed his peas around a bit with his fork, peering at them closely.

"Blimey!" he muttered. "I hope there isn't any bat poop in my food."

"Guano," said Hermione.

"Pardon?"

"Bat droppings are called guano," she said in her schoolteacher tone of voice. "But if it's any consolation, I expect the professors will have cast some sort of spell to prevent them from defecating during the feast," she added, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than Harry.

Just hearing the word "defecating" after his first worry was enough to put Harry off his food, and both he and Hermione continued staring at their plates uncertainly while everyone else dug into the feast with abandon.

Finally, Harry decided to risk it and began to slice off a piece of his pork chop. At that moment, Professor Quirrell hurtled into the Great Hall, his turban off-kilter, and skidded to a halt in front of the staff-table across from Dumbledore and Snape.

Harry clapped a hand to his burning forehead. "Ow!"

"T-t-troll—in the dungeons!" yelled Quirrell. Then he keeled over and crumpled into a heap on the marble floor, out like a light.

The Great Hall erupted into shouts and screams as the younger students started panicking. Many of the older students were looking very worried too, but Fred and George were laughing their heads off. Percy shot them a glare and they both shut up, looking the picture of innocence.

"What?" said Fred, sounding wounded. "We didn't have anything to do with it."

Several bangs rang out like gunshots and the hall briefly fell silent.

"Prefects," said Dumbledore loudly as he lowered his wand, "please lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

Percy clambered to his feet excitedly, looking eager to start bossing people around.

"First years and second years," he barked, "follow me and stick together!"

But pandemonium had ensued again and everyone was too panicked to listen to him. He kept at it, trying to corral the students who were already scrambling towards the doors.

"Oi—I'm a Prefect! You have to follow my orders!" he bellowed as they shoved him out of the way.

Harry and Hermione shared horrified looks between themselves and Lavender and Parvati.

"Ron and Neville!" they all said in unison.

Harry looked around wildly to get a professor's attention but half of them were already out of the doors, and the other half were caught in the mob of students. Suspiciously, Snape and Quirrell were both among those who had already vanished.

"Come on," Harry yelled, grabbing Hermione's hand. "We've got to find them."

The only four students not behaving like an unruly horde of maniacs squashed themselves against the walls, pushing past the skeletons and scarecrows. But when they entered the hall with the Grand Staircase, they had to force their way through a crowd of confused first year Hufflepuffs who were turning around, having apparently forgotten where their House was in all of the uproar.

Harry and the girls barely managed to avoid Percy who was still hollering and chasing the rest of the first and second year Gryffindors up the stairs. The foursome ducked into a deserted corridor and took a quick breather to see where they were.

"The bathrooms should be just around the next corner," said Parvati.

"Right," agreed Harry, "Let's go."

The foursome scurried quickly down the corridor, when Hermione suddenly hissed, "Stop! Ssssh!" and grabbed Lavender's and Parvati's robes. They all hid behind a large statue of a Griffin at her urging.

Once again, Harry was amazed by Hermione's sharp ears when he spied Snape crossing the corridor from another passageway and disappearing into the corridor on the other side.

"That's weird. Why isn't he in the dungeons with the other professors?" asked Lavender.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other in sudden understanding.

"The third floor!" they both said at once.

"I bet Quirrell's on his way there too," growled Harry. "I'm so bloody stupid! Snape and Quirrell are probably working together."

"You're probably right," Hermione moaned. "But what are we going to do? Dumbledore's probably in the dungeons too, and Ron and Neville are cleaning toilets—this is awful."

"What's going on? What are you talking about?" asked Parvati. "What do Snape and Quirrell have to do with anything?"

"And what's on the third floor?" asked Lavender. "I thought we weren't allowed to go there."

"I don't have time to explain," said Harry, growing more agitated by the second. "But if Dumbledore's not around, we'll have to try and stop Snape and Quirrell ourselves. Come on—let's get Ron and Neville and go after them."

The four ran down the corridor and turned the corner, spying the girls' and boys' bathrooms up ahead.

"You check the girls' bathrooms," Harry said to Lavender and Parvati, "Hermione and I'll check the boys'."

Breathing heavily, Harry flung open the door of the boys' lavatory with a bang and yelled.

"Ron! Neville! You in here?"

There was no answer, but they heard a scream from the other side of the corridor.

"Lavender and Parvati!" Hermione squealed, her wand at the ready in her shaking hand.

"Bloody hell!" Harry swore, and they sprinted to the girls' lavatory.

Lavender and Parvati were both shouting.

"Ron, Neville!"

"Come on—get out of there!"

"Just run past it!"

Harry and Hermione squeezed between Lavender and Parvati, horrified to see a gigantic troll lumbering slowly towards Ron and Neville, who were both petrified with terror. And if the anxiety churning in Harry's stomach wasn't already bad enough, the rancid smell made it lurch even more.

"Crap! Crap! Crap! We don't have time for this!" he said. "Hermione, got any ideas?"

The three girls and Harry stared at one another, stumped, then he huffed and peered at the Troll, seeing it lift its bludgeon, ready to bring it crashing down on Ron and Neville. There was only one spell spinning in his brain at the moment, and he suddenly knew what to do.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, yanking the enormous club out of the troll's hand with his wand.

The troll stupidly looked up at the bludgeon hanging in the air above him, looking remarkably like it could be the brother of Crabbe or Goyle. Harry jerked his wand downward, slamming the bludgeon against the troll's thick skull with a horrible cracking sound. For a moment, the monster teetered, then slowly began to topple, finally hitting the floor with a thunderous boom that rocked beneath their feet.

"Do… do you think it's dead?" asked Hermione.

"Probably just knocked out," said Harry, hoping that was enough to stop her worrying about it. Then he yelled at Ron and Neville. "Come on! Get out! Hurry up!"

It took Ron and Neville a moment for it to sink in that they had just been rescued, and they ran for the door, sliding around the troll, which did appear to still be breathing.

"B-blimey!" gasped Ron. "Thanks, Harry!"

"Yeah!" wheezed Neville. "Thanks for the save."

"Okay, no time for that right now," said Harry, frustrated at how long all this was taking. "We've got to get to the third floor."

"What? Why?" asked Ron.

"What part of, 'no time for that,' don't you understand?" Harry snapped. "Come on!" Then he and Hermione began pelting down the corridor.

Ron and Neville stared at Lavender and Parvati who both shrugged. Then Lavender and Parvati took off after Harry and Hermione. With nothing better to do than hang out with an unconscious troll, Ron and Neville decided to chase after them.

Harry and Hermione flew down the passageway they had seen Snape dart into, with the other four close on their heels.

"There," said Hermione, "I see some stairs in the gap in the wall ahead."

Sure enough, behind a purple and gold tapestry which looked as if it had been hurriedly pulled aside, Harry saw the gap. It was a secret staircase inside the wall that they hadn't found in their previous explorations of the castle (though they had found at least two hidden passages so far).

Hermione was ahead of him at this point, and he leapt up the stairs after her. He glanced back behind him briefly to see that Lavender, Parvati, Ron, and Neville were all still trailing behind. Up and up they went. Harry passed a gap in the wall which had to be the second floor, and then he saw Hermione halt in front of another gap which had to be on the third floor.

Breathless, his heart pounding in his ears, he gestured to the others below to stay quiet. Then he and Hermione looked at each other and nodded. Cautiously they both peeked through the tapestry which covered the gap in the wall. Harry's eyes widened, and Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp.

Just ahead, right next to a suit of armour, they could see Professor Quirrell angrily peering through an open door into Fluffy's corridor. They could hear Fluffy barking and what sounded like Snape yelling. Harry would recognise Snape's yells anywhere. Quirrell's turban looked like it was unravelling and Harry felt like a hot poker was skewering his forehead.

"Argh! It's him!" he hissed at Hermione through gritted teeth, fighting the pain. "Voldemort must be possessing him, or something. That's the only thing which makes sense."

"I agree," said Hermione grimly. "We've got to stop him before he and Snape get past Fluffy and escape the castle."

"But what should I do?"

Hermione hesitated briefly, then she said, "I know! The suit of armour, Harry. Swish and flick! I saw the way you swung that troll's club around, almost like you were holding it yourself. That was amazing!"

"Of course! You're brilliant, Hermione!" Then Harry concentrated like he had never concentrated before, ignoring the fire in his forehead and whispering, "Wingardium Leviosa," aiming his wand at the suit of armour next to Quirrell.

Harry swished and flicked, then jerked his wand in a motion that sent it crashing into the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with a clattering and clanging that echoed throughout the castle. Quirrell tumbled through the door into the corridor with Snape and Fluffy.

Harry groaned, clutching at his sweaty forehead again, barely able to see straight now, falling to his knees. Hermione darted out from behind the tapestry.

"Hermione!" Harry gasped, his heart lurching in terror. "No!"

But she was already at the door and she slammed it shut, aiming her wand at it and shouting, "Colloportus!"

Hermione looked back at Harry, her face white with fear when she saw him sprawling through the gap onto the floor of the mezzanine.

"Harry!" she shrieked, running towards him, but Parvati and Lavender emerged and were already lifting him under his arms and dragging him out further onto the floor of the balcony, where they lay him down gently on his back.

"Harry! Harry!" said Parvati, patting his clammy face. "Are you okay?"

"What's wrong with him?" asked Lavender, tears glistening on her cheeks.

"It's his scar!" said Hermione. "Like he was telling us and Hagrid the other day, when we saw—"

"Voldemort in the woods!" gasped Parvati, her eyes popping. "You mean he's here, in the castle, right now?"

"I think he's possessing Quirrell. Harry knocked him over with the suit of armour, and I've locked them in with Snape and a giant three-headed dog."

Ron and Neville stood nearby, blinking in bewilderment, having stumbled out from behind the tapestry after Lavender and Parvati had dragged Harry out of the way. They could all still hear loud barking and Quirrell and Snape both screaming out curses, and spell-fire which seemed to be ineffective against Fluffy.

"Bloody hell! Will someone please tell me what's going on?" grumbled Ron who looked far more annoyed than terrified now.

"That's what I would like to know!" said a severe voice as Harry finally clambered to his feet with the help of Lavender and Parvati.

Everyone turned around to see Professor McGonagall on the landing at the top of the stairs, glaring at them, her features livid. Dumbledore was standing beside her, his own expression more impressed than anything.

"What on earth is going on here?" Professor McGonagall thundered. "There's an unconscious troll in the girls' bathroom below, and you lot all up here on a forbidden floor—"

Everyone began speaking at once.

"Ron and Neville were trapped by the troll…"

"We were trying to stop Snape and Quirrell…"

"I dunno what the bloody hell is going on..."

Dumbledore stepped in front of McGonagall and calmly raised his hand. Everyone quieted down, even Professor McGonagall, who was utterly perplexed to see Professor Dumbledore beaming at Harry and Hermione.

"That was quite a feat," he said serenely, "I cannot say that I'm happy you put yourselves in danger, but I'm very pleased that none of you are too badly damaged—"

"Sir!" Harry gasped, his head still throbbing. "Quirrell is possessed by Voldemort. He's working with Snape and we've shut them all in with Fluffy."

"Indeed!" said Dumbledore. "However, I am the one who sent Professor Snape up here to stop Quirrell while the other professors and I hunted for the troll, when it became apparent to me that Quirrell was the one who let the troll into the castle as a distraction. And now, apparently, I shall have to rescue them both from Fluffy.

"If Voldemort is still possessing Quirrell, that will be most serendipitous, but I expect that he will depart the moment I open that door. He shan't want to remain inside a captive Quirrell."

Then Dumbledore addressed the angry Professor at his side.

"In the meantime, Professor McGonagall, if you would please escort our young heroes to the hospital wing for a once-over by Madam Pomfrey. There is no need for you to question them—they have had quite enough upset for one night I should think."

"But…"

"I shall explain it all to you later, after I myself have discussed matters with Harry and Miss Granger. There is much I have to tell you, some of which I have kept to myself far too long.

"Suffice it to say for now, that I am exceedingly grateful for your counsel, and grateful for how keenly you have taken Harry's best interests to heart. I daresay that among my staff, you are the one I trust the most to look after him when I falter. … Now, if you please…?"

To say that Professor McGonagall looked thoroughly taken aback was an understatement, but Harry was just relieved that she wasn't going to yell at him. He didn't think his head could take much more.

"Come along then," she said to Harry in the most gentle voice he had ever heard her use. "Off to the hospital wing with you, and I daresay that you and the others could all use some dinner as well..."