Severus paced back and forth before the locked door in the third-floor corridor, thinking through his conundrum. The beast behind that door needed to be fed. Hagrid needed regular access to the abomination. That meant he could not put up the wards he'd like to that would block off all access to anyone, without making collateral enemies.

Severus could ignore that, of course. He could ward the door so tightly that it would take even Dumbledore weeks to open it back up. He could endure Hagrid's anguished grudge and Dumbledore's magnified disappointment.

He could let the beast starve.

That would be for the best, in the long run, if Severus was incarcerated for more than a few days.

If there was any justice left within the ministry at all, this was all unnecessary, and Quirrell would be under too much scrutiny to go after the stone, until Madame Bones had enough evidence to have him arrested, but Severus was a cynical man. He was not one for taking chances.

Suddenly, the door opened. Severus raised his wand, a spell just this side of legal poised on his lips.

Dumbledore blinked back at him, nonplussed. His ridiculous pointed hat was askew, and the gossamer remnants of cobwebs clung to his robes.

"I had not expected to find you here, my boy," the old man said, mildly, slipping through the door, and floating a large, flat object behind him. Soft music was playing from the room behind him, accompanied by lumbering snores.

"Headmaster," Severus replied, lowering his wand a fraction. "What is all this?"

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "Just a trifle I need to borrow from storage. I'll be able to return it shortly, I'm sure."

Storage. Right.

"This is no time for any of your games, Albus," Severus said, peeking past the old man to the slobbering, slumbering nightmare draped in flesh. He shuddered, and a phantom echo of pain lanced his calf. He did not have time for this. "I got a tip from an old friend, last night."

"Who?" Dumbledore asked absently, as he spelled the cobwebs away.

Severus sighed, following the headmaster as he silenced the music, resealed the door, and ambled down the hallway. He surreptitiously cast an extra locking spell at the door, and said, "Lucius Malfoy. Apparently, the ministry is opening a formal inquiry into the attempt on Harry Potter's life last month, and I've landed on their list of suspects."

Dumbledore paused, and cast a spell that the nearby portraits scurrying from their frames. "The ministry has no cause to open an investigation at Hogwarts."

"Clearly, they disagree."

Dumbledore patted Severus on the arm, as if he were an anxious puppy. "I won't let them take you from me, my boy. Don't worry."

"I'm worried about what's going to happen to Harry while I'm gone, Albus," Severus said, shaking off the old man's attempt at comfort. "Is this a mirror?"

"It's an antique," Dumbledore said, tapping it with an age-spotted knuckle. "Rather fetching, don't you think?"

"Albus!" Severus snapped, "If the ministry arrests me, Quirrell might make a move against Harry, or against the stone. He knows I've been protecting the boy, and running interference over the stone. He might see this as his chance, if the aurors buy his stuttering act. I need you to put this test, or whatever it is, on hold, and keep Harry safe for me."

"I would never do anything to put the boy in danger, Severus. You must know that."

"Bullshit. I'm not blind, and you've been ignoring the warning signs all year, ignoring me! That spell you have locking the door to the Cerberus can be counteracted by any first year, you know. Either you've gone completely senile, or that's by design. Hagrid was your first choice to pick up Harry this summer, right? To befriend the boy, and collect the stone right in front of him? Hagrid's never been a subtle one.

"What's your plan, now? To convince Harry to become a Marauder? To let Quirrell hex him to test if he can escape Death, once more? To contrive a way for Harry and Hagrid to hang out until the big oaf lets it slip that music calms the beast? That's what you used in there, right? You need to stop this."

"We need to know what kind of boy Harry is, Severus, now, before it's too late."

Severus lurched to a stop, and pulled Dumbledore to a stop too, with a firm, borderline harsh, grip to the elderly man's shoulder. "Alive, Albus. He's the alive kind of boy, but he won't stay that way if you keep dangling danger in front of him, and daring him to leap."

"We must be cautious," Dumbledore said, patting Severus' hand, and coaxing it from its death grip. "Harry carries more influence than any other boy I've ever met. Ever. If he chooses to go down a dark path, our world may never recover."

"He's not a Dark Lord," Severus said, in a harsh whisper. "He's never going to be a Dark Lord, not as long as people are willing to give him the unconditional love that he deserves."

Dumbledore shook his head, and gave Severus a pitying look. "I'll keep you out of Azkaban, Severus, I promise, but you have to let me do my job. Harry's the key to everything. I need to make sure that he's willing to do the right thing, when the time comes."

"That's absurd. The boy fulfilled the prophesy the night it all happened. There is absolutely no reason to drag him into this," Severus hissed.

"You didn't hear the whole thing, Severus. The Prophesy."

"Then tell me! I can't fulfil my vow to keep him safe, if I don't know what role he is to play. What was the rest of the damned thing?"

"I can't; you know that. It's too dangerous."

Severus growled. "If you think I'm a potential leak, then I already know far too much. Either kill me, or tell me what I need to know to do my job. If you keep at this, the vow's going to force me to protect Potter from you."

Dumbledore chuckled. Severus reminded himself of all of the reasons why murder was wrong. "There's no need to be dramatic, my dear boy. I'll tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. You just need to trust me."

"Trusting you didn't keep Lily alive," Severus bit out, before he could think better of it.

Dumbledore frowned. "I cannot rid the world of danger. I can't stop people from betraying their friends. There are some things that are out of even my control."

The ministry already suspected Severus of attempted murder, he reminded himself. It would be foolish to produce a freshly vivisected corpse for the aurors to find, in the middle of a school hallway.

"Fuck. You," he spat, glaring at the headmaster with a hatred that had lain dormant for a decade.

Dumbledore began walking again, and Severus allowed him to totter out of sight, still dragging the floating mirror behind him. He took a deep, calming breath, and began the slow, painful task of removing the fingernails of his clenched hands from his aching palms. He had nearly drawn blood.

Dumbledore had said that on purpose, to deflect from the prophesy, Severus realized, too late. He had intentionally put Severus on equal footing with Sirius fucking Black in the culpability of Lily and Potter's deaths, while absolving himself of any failing. It had been a low blow.

That meant Severus had struck a nerve, or dug too close to a dangerous truth.

Circling back to the third floor, Severus threw up a few age lines around the forbidden door. He might not be able to stop Quirrell from accessing the hidden passage under the demon-dog, not with Dumbledore traipsing in and out of the room at his leisure, but he could at the very least prevent the Weasley twins from feeding two of the Cerberus' three heads on one of their recklessly suicidal adventures while Severus was inevitably rotting away in a ministry holding cell awaiting trial.

After some thought, he added another layer of deterrents targeting those twelve and under. He didn't think that Harry had inherited James' Gryffindor stupidity, but Dumbledore had clearly attempted to goad Harry into investigating the stone at least once already, and Severus had no idea what kind of leverage the old man was willing to use to force the boy into doing his bidding.

Would he dangle one of Potter's friends over a fire, to force Harry to don a red and gold hero's cape and launch himself heedlessly to their rescue, all to see if he was willing to get his feet scorched for a selfless cause? Would he make Harry believe that no one else could protect the stone but him, and that it was the boy's duty to risk himself in the service of others? Would he pressure the boy into acting recklessly, lest he be labeled as evil or unfit?

The fact that Severus could not rule out the possibility was disturbing.

These were kids, dammit. Why was Dumbledore toying with Harry's life, and willing to risk his students' safety by keeping the stone on school grounds?

Surely some blood wards and a well placed Fidelius Charm around an undisclosed, unplottable location would work just as well. Better, considering the level of security that had actually been employed. An obstacle course featuring 'clever' solutions that an enterprising first year could access was in no way superior to the goblin security of Gringotts bank, and that hadn't been sufficient either, in the end.

This whole situation was a bloody set-up, and not just for Quirrell, or whoever else might be after the stone. It was a trap set for Harry Potter, and it was a trap with potentially deadly consequences.

Severus could not, for the life of him, fathom what could be worth such a risk.

He could not afford to go to Azkaban.

Severus hurried down to his quarters, glaring daggers at any students even tangentially in the vicinity of the third floor, and snapping at the rest to finish their holiday coursework, on his way.

He triple-checked his rooms for anything illegal, or Dark.

Nothing.

He frowned. Scrimgeour would keep digging until he found something.

Severus summoned an article he had hidden away at Spinner's End over the summer. It was a theoretical piece on the properties of several ingredients that were legal, but were used in multiple illegal potions. That would give the aurors something to sink their teeth into, without actually landing Severus behind bars.

He placed the article prominently on his desk, then placed a book on top of it.

Then a stack of ungraded papers.

No, that was still too obvious. They needed to find their suspicious evidence, not be handed it.

He snatched up the article, and slipped it between the pages of a well-used potions tome that Severus always kept handy, then returned the book to its shelf, pushed level with the books surrounding it.

There. That should do it.

He paced the room, wishing the ministry would hurry up and barge back into his life. The waiting was killing him.

He needed a distraction. If he was this on edge, it would be obvious to everyone that someone had tipped him off.

Pomona could always use more Pepper-Up this time of year, he decided, and headed to his lab. He might even test his latest hypothesis for a new fire-proofing potion, if he could muster the concentration.

He was getting soft, in his old age. Not even the Dark Lord had ever made him this twitchy.

He should follow his own advice that he'd given Potter, and brush up on his meditation.

Later.