It was odd, Severus mused, how quickly he had grown accustomed to his Slytherins' habits, this year. It had been months now, of the entire house walking in to breakfast as a single, organized group, with rosy cheeks, bright alert eyes, and energetic comradery. In previous years, his snakes had operated the same as every other house, with students trickling in a few at a time, a few chipper and put together, but most dragging their heels and rubbing sleep from their eyes. The new sense of solidarity and professionalism was a bold statement to the rest of the school, although Severus knew that it had grown organically out of an experiment in early morning fitness.
Now that the majority of students had left for the holidays, the few remaining Slytherins looked lost and set adrift. Severus made a mental note to pay extra attention to the location and safety of his abandoned snakes, this year. It was possible that opportunists from the other houses would see the upcoming weeks as an ideal time to prey on his charges, now that they were without backup.
"S-s-slytherin l-looks out of sorts this morning, d-doesn't it?" Quirrell asked, as he sat down next to Severus and began piling plain toast onto his plate. The man looked like he had not slept for a month.
Severus was reasonably certain that he had glimpsed the turbaned professor sneaking out of the castle after the students were all abed at least twice since Halloween, but as of yet, he was unable to ascertain why.
"They are simply used to making a bold, communal statement at every meal," Severus said in defence of his students. "They'll adjust to their diminished numbers."
"I'm sure they will," Quirrell agreed, easily. "I'm j-just so used to s-s-seeing them as an ar-r-rmy, this year."
Severus felt a prickle of foreboding along the back of his neck. If his Slytherins were an army, there would sooner or later be a power struggle to determine who would be their general. Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, and the Dark Lord himself would all be likely contenders over these children's fates. Severus would make a bid for the position, himself, if he could find away to do so, without compromising his obligations as a spy. If Harry and Draco continued to inspire their classmates at their current rate, either of them might be thrust into the position, from within. Both boys were ambitious, but neither was yet mature enough to handle that level of responsibility over the lives of others. He could only hope that the position of general lay vacant and unopposed for many more years.
Did Quirrell want to be general? Did he serve someone who would lust after the role? Severus had combed through his memories as a Death Eater over the last few months, both occlumency-assisted, and within a pensieve. He was certain that Quirinius had never attended any of their meetings.
Either he was a newly acquired follower of the Dark Lord, or he was serving someone else. Or his own ambitions, Severus supposed, but that seemed unlikely, of the stammering former muggle-studies professor. He had changed over his sabbatical, and those changes ran deeper than twitchy reflexes and an inconsistent speech impediment.
"They may have taken to playing soldier this year, Quirinius," Severus chastised silkily, "but they are still just children, and children without a war to fight, at that."
Who are you working for, you duplicitous little rat?
"Q-quite so, and th-thank goodn-ness for that!"
Severus idly grabbed a slice of bacon off of his plate, and bit into its greasy goodness, as he pondered his options. Lucius Malfoy was sure to have resources capable of keeping tabs on European vampire populations. Perhaps, when he visited, he could convince the man to look into Quirrell's story, and maybe even trace his actual movements across the continent. Grindelwald was still alive, after all, and more than one of the inner circle Death Eaters had fled abroad. There were bound to be a few other wannabe budding Dark Lords lurking in the shadows of the continent, as well. If Severus could track down who Quirrell might have intersected with, who was likely to covet the powers of a philosopher stone enough to risk angering the goblin nation and tempting the ire of Albus Dumbledore, he would be able to plan his next moves with better precision.
Stopping attempts to steal the stone, and attacks against Harry, would only do so much good, if the attacks would keep coming, from an unknown primary source.
"Severus!" Minerva greeted jovially, as she slid into the seat at Severus' other side. "I see you've managed to survive to see another Christmas, despite your grumbling."
"There's still time," he grumbled. "Good morning, Minerva."
"I w-was just s-s-saying to Severus how o-odd it is to see his Slytherin students on their own f-for once."
Minerva nodded sagely, while looking over a platter of pastries with a discerning eye. "You have been rather militant with your snakes this year, Severus."
Severus rolled his eyes, and petulantly snatched up the cheese danish Minerva had zeroed in on. "As I keep telling you and Albus, I've had nothing to do with my students' regimented routine. They've done it to themselves."
Minerva hummed noncommittally. "Well, whatever the reason behind it, it is certainly working for you. I've rerun the numbers, and Slytherin has not had so few detentions or lost house points in decades! Your house's grade average is up, and your lead for the house cup beginning to look insurmountable, much to my chagrin. My lions are beside themselves, without their usual rivals to knock heads against. I've caught them getting into the most disturbingly creative kinds of mischief, this year."
You mean, without their typical scapegoat targets to harass, they've had to expand their repertoire of delinquent 'bravery' to include more than simple bullying.
Severus sighed, and bit into the danish. It was good, but he preferred the cherry. The annoyed look that Minerva shot him made it worth it. The woman had a horrific blind spot to the cruelty that could come from her precious lions. Severus had long since tired of attempting to open her eyes to it. She did not see, because she did not wish to see.
He opened his mouth to quip about her saltiness that James Potter's son had become a consummate Slytherin, but thought better of it. Voluntarily bringing Harry's existence back to Quirrell's attention was not something he wanted to do.
"I'm surprised you've not yet invented a spell specialized to immobilize Weasleys and send them automatically to your office for detention," he mused, instead.
"They certainly are an… energetic family," Minerva said, retaliating by moving a cherry danish to her plate with embellished glee.
Severus chuckled at the understatement. The twins alone had singlehandedly cost Gryffindor the House Cup, last year, and all of the teachers knew it.
"S-severus, I've been m-meaning to ask you," Quirrell said, leaning forward onto his elbows, "how is H-harry Pot-t-ter doing after his little scare a f-few months back?"
The air grew dense with tension as the dynamic of their cat and mouse game shifted. Quirrell was going on the attack. He was goading Severus' inability to convince the headmaster to have him fired, and doing so in front of the deputy headmistress, where any unprovable accusation would be held against him.
Severus smiled icily at the man, bringing just a hint of his Death Eater sadism into his eyes. He had flayed alive men far more innocent than Quirinius Quirrell, and if pushed far enough, he would do it again. "That is kind of you to ask, Quirinius. The boy was certainly shaken, as any child would be, but his friends and housemates have been there every step of the way to aid in his recovery, and to ensure that no further unfortunate accidents occur."
"James was just as accident prone when he was a student," Minerva said fondly, inadvertently trampling her way through the middle of a high-stakes stand off. "He was in the hospital wing more than just about any other student I've ever known."
He was there less than me, but only because all of our fights were four on one, and I still was responsible for the majority of his hospital time, despite the odds.
"Sirius Black had him beat," Severus replied, innocently, taking another bite of danish, and happily pushing the conversation further away from Harry.
Minerva pursed her lips. She did not like reminders that one of her favorite students had fallen so far into darkness.
"I'm af-fraid I'm not familiar with that name," Quirrell said, either unaware of Minerva's unease, or feeding into it.
"He was in Gryffindor back when I was a student," Severus said, carefully avoiding any mention of 'Potter'. "He fooled us all by betraying his friends and committing mass murder. I always did think that his trial did not receive nearly enough attention. He was already in Azkaban before I heard anything about it, as a matter of fact."
"He w-was a Death Eater, then?" Quirrell asked, an odd wisp of amusement coloring his tone.
"He was," Minerva growled.
He must have been, but I never heard even a whisper of his true allegiance. From what I could gather after the fact, no one in the inner circle knew.
"Evil comes in many forms," Severus said, patting Minerva's hand in a gesture meant to be placating, while sending Quirrell a pointed look. "It all comes out, sooner or later."
Quirrell graced Severus with a cold, confident smirk, before dissolving back into his quivering persona. "As it sh-sh-should be."