Disclaimer: I don't own HP in any way or form.

AN-1: Sorry for the late update, but I had taken a break from this fic for a few months, and I had a slew of examinations and such for the last three months.

AN-2: I have a P*T*R*N, where you can read the NEXT FIVE CHAPTERS right now, along with varying numbers of chapters of my other fics too.

"Today, your Potions class will not take place," McGonagall said, looking out at the students sitting in the Great Hall, almost rolling her eyes at the visible wave of relief and glee that seemed to pass over them—and Pomona had the gall to say that she was strict! "Due to certain nameless, unidentified miscreants, Professor Snape is occupied with disinfecting and cleaning out the classrooms, as well as half of the dungeons personally. On that note, I would recommend the Hufflepuff and the Slytherins refrain from going down there, since fumes and various dangerous ingredients are still present in the corridors."

"What about our Potions practical?" Eden Jones, a Hufflepuff fourth year shouted, raising his hand, she watched the other fourth-year's nod and murmur in agreement, "It was scheduled for today…so, is that canceled?"

"You are not so lucky Mr. Jones," she smiled, suppressing a chuckle at the groans and laughs that traveled throughout the hall. Honestly, where was Professor Dumbledore when he actually needed to see things? "Your practical will be overseen by a Ministry official from the Department of Education, and an ICW-certified Potions Master or Mistress. It will be taking place as stated in the schedules given to you, and it is the same for the sixth years who had their Potions practicals alongside the fourth years."

"You think it was the twins again?" Pomona asked her as soon as she sat down, the plump woman taking a sip of her pumpkin juice while her eyes flicked towards the redheads once, "This sounds like something like what they would do at the end of the year—like the last time when they dropped dung bombs in the Great Hall at the last feast."

"No, I don't think it was them this time," she shook her head, taking a glance at the boys and sighing at their pale faces as they quietly stared at her. While she had called their parents to the school and told them about all the twins had done ever since their first morning in Hogwarts, she had only done so in the hopes of culling down their worst habits and stopping them from becoming the bullies many viewed them as. However, when Molly and Arthur Weasley stepped into her office…she knew she had done the worst possible thing. She had cursed her actions, and her animagus form endlessly for the whole two hours the woman had been present before her. Her screaming and the judgemental, abrasive attitude had only gotten worse since her own school days, and her voice even shriller, "But whoever it was, they had covered their tracks quite…well. No House Elf or painting saw anything out of order, and there was not even a single thing or sign available to identify the perpetrators. Whoever it was…I am sure it had to be one of the seventh years, or a very talented sixth year. This level of concealment charms, spells, and even potions are only in the final year curriculum, and Irma gives these kinds of books only on our recommendation."

"I just think that someone thought to avoid Severus breathing down their necks for once," her colleague chuckled, and Minerva nodded at this silently. The worrying thing was, it could be what Pomona was suggesting, but it could also just as easily be something more insidious and dreadful—with the Flamel's treasure lying in the castle, even a chair out of place made her paranoid these days. Shaking her head to dispel the thoughts better avoided in the morning, she sighed and looked at the empty throne-like chair beside her, "After this, check on your protections one by one. With Albus gone to Innsbruck, I am sure that whoever decided to let loose the troll will once again attempt to get to it."

"That place? What happened?" She gasped, her face draining of color as the worst possible thought ran through her brain, "Di-Was it him?"

"I'd pray not," Minerva shook her head, and for a moment, her vision was filled with nothing but death, the Great Hall in front of her replaced by a smoking ruin and a madman who stood at the top of it, "Whatever it is though, Albus can handle it. Our work is to focus on our tasks and keep the castle and its inhabitants completely safe."

"We have to go to Headmaster Dumbledore!" Ron whispered as soon as they exited the Great Hall after breakfast, the redhead walking backwards for a moment as he stared at them with worry and apprehension both, "Snape is going to steal the stone, and Dumbledore is not present here to stop him!"

"First of all, keep quiet will you?" Hermione snapped quietly, nodding her head at the dozens of students coming up behind them, all of them whispering about the incident in the dungeons, and the fact that Snape wasn't going to be torturing them today, "Now, Headmaster Dumbled-"

"Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Granger!" Professor Quirrell's voice came from behind them, and Neville smiled slightly as he turned around. Over the months, he could confidently say that the turban-wearing man had become his favorite Professor—though Professor Flitwick was a close second. He smiled at them, his hands behind his back and his trademark violet robe swirling around his legs as he inclined his head at them, "A pleasant morning, isn't it? What with your least favorite teacher being unable to even look at you? And relax, I know just how…imposing and dreadful Severus can be. Anyways, I have a task for you three. Since Neville has already been to my office several times over the months, he knows where my books are kept. I want you to check them all against the list on my desk, and make sure that every book I took from the library is there, and is undamaged."

"Bu-"

"It was not a request Mr. Longbottom," Quirrell smiled pleasantly, but after hearing the same tone so many times, Neville knew that the man was running short on patience right now, "I will be assisting Professor Snape with the mishap in the dungeons, and also help a few of my seventh years with DADA. In the meantime, I need someone I trust to help me out."

"It will be done Professor," Hermione nodded beside him, and Neville somehow managed to suppress the groan that rose up in his throat. They didn't have the time to help someone!...but still, it wasn't like he would have been able to say no to Professor Quirrell. Nodding after her as his eyes flicked over to him, Neville smiled weakly as Quirrell raised an eyebrow at him, "We will go there right away Professor, and sort out the books according to your instructions."

"Wonderful," he grinned, tilting his head at them before he turned around, "I will be there in two hours. By then, I want them sorted and arranged. And Neville, your friends may leave the office should they wish, but you will stay there until I come back. Practice or read if you wish, but I want to speak with you regarding the apprenticeship I told you about."

Three Hours Later:

Neville yawned as he shot another Ventus at the mannequin, a spiraling jet of air rocketing through the space between them and colliding with the straw construct violently. Hermione and Ron had long since exited the room, the girl citing some library time and the latter wanting to have his lunch before they met again. Behind him, the pages of the book he had been reading fluttered from the winds that were stirred up by his spell, and he yawned once again as the mannequin crashed against the charmed wall behind it.

"This is so boring," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he took aim once again, his fingers tightening over his wand as he thought of the next spell to use. He glanced back at the open book behind him, yellowed pages barely visible in the shadowed spot it sat in, the last incantation and its use he had read coming to the forefront of his mind. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the times when his Grandmother had belittled him, calling him a disgrace to the name they carried, as well as his father's blood. He remembered the times when he had felt jealous of other children, watching them laugh and talk with their parents, while he was left alone in the world. He thought of the moments when he had imagined his parents' deaths, when he had seen James Potter's face for the first time…and when he had seen hsi children walk into Hogwarts. And lastly, he thought of the maddening rage that had overtaken his mind when he had finally pieced the identity of the thing who wanted the stone. Filled with anger, resentment and jealousy Neville's mind transformed hte mannequin in front of him into the smiling visage of James Potter, the man smirking at him cockily just like it had in the photograph he had seen.

"LACERO!" he screamed, whipping his wand through the air, his eyes wide and wild as a trail of purple energy emerged from the tip. It cut through the air silently, the arc of magic illuminating the shadows in a ghostly violet before it slammed into the mannequin. He watched unblinkingly as it cut through the leather and straw with an ease diffindo could never hope to match. The spell fizzled out midway, straw floating down from where it had sawed through the material as the torso of the dummy toppled backward, hanging by the remains of the leather and magic that held it together.

Neville panted as he felt something he had not felt in what felt like ages…satisfaction. That one spell had somehow removed every bit of frustration and anger that had been simmering away inside him—and despite the tiredness he could now feel, he also felt fresh in an unexplainable way. He looked at the mannequin as it repaired itself, the top half righting itself as the straw from the ground floated up and leather sewed itself shut seamlessly. Shuddering slightly as he imagined what the spell would do to a human, he stumbled back to his chair, feeling the exhaustion suddenly hit him like a hippogryph now that his mind was clearing up a bit.

"Quite marvelous Mr. Longbottom," Professor Quirrell's voice came from behind him, and he froze up for a moment as his footsteps came closer, the sound of the door being shut echoing in the silent classroom, "Each day, you continue to prove my thoughts about you right."

"And what thoughts might they be Professor?" he asked, turning around to look at the man, finding him looking at the now repaired dummy. His eyes then moved to the rips and burns that covered the robe Quirrell was wearing, "Ar- Are you alright?"

"Oh I am fine," he waved a hand, looking down at him and winking once as the damage upon his robes mended in an instant, "What kind of DADA professor would I be if a few tears in my clothes harmed me? Now, enough about me—have you arranged the books according to my orders?"

"Yes, Professor. Your own books are kept at the left of your table," he began, walking towards the front of the room and pointing at the four stacks kept in an orderly, alphabetical order on the right. Quirrell hummed at his words and walked forwards "and the books that were issued from the Library are on the right. Also, Compendium on Blood and Regeneration in Creatures has about a quarter of its pages missing from the end, so Hermione kept it separately."

"Hmm," he nodded, trailing a finger along the books on his desk as he finally turned towards him, his lips curled into a smirk, "and with the work done, you decided to open the book meant for third years. And within a day, you managed to cast the lacero—an incomplete, weak one for sure, you cast it nonetheless. My dear boy, your thirst for knowledge and your proficiency for wandwork never cease to impress me."

"Thank you, Professor," he flushed a little at the praise, lowering his eyes as he tried to keep a smile from his face, "It is only because of you that I am able to do this Professor."

"While I am thankful for the praise, it was only your own talent and drive that has enabled your growth over the months Mr. Longbottom," Quirrell shook his head with a soft smile and patted his shoulder, before he turned around and walked back to his desk, "I will meet you tonight Mr. Longbottom, after dinner. Don't come to the office though…it is a conversation best had in private. Dismissed."

Nodding at the words, he turned around and exited the classroom, wiping away the sweat on his forehead as he felt his legs buckle a little. Using so many spells one after another, and ending it with a third-year spell had really tired him out today, especially since he had barely eaten breakfast in the morning. Deciding to first get some food in his body, Neville started to walk towards the Great Hall.

'Have to get Ron and Hermione and talk to Headmaster Dumbledore too' he grimaced, wondering if the aged wizard was going to listen to three first years when they were going to complain about a longtime colleague of his—and a man whom he had personally saved from Azkaban according to his Grandmother and the rumors in the castle both, 'But first things first, I have to get some lunch. That spell took a lot of power out of me…but it felt great though. Lacero, have to remember that one…and find others like it.'

—-

They walked through the corridors of Hogwarts quietly, thanking Cassiopeia for teaching them the silencing and the scent-hiding charm once again as they ducked behind a suit of armor. Watching the Ravenclaw prefect walk by them without even sparing a glance in their direction, Persephone tugged on his arm and they slowly came out of hiding. "This is fun," she whispered with a grin as she ran ahead of him, the Grand Staircase just around the corner, "We should sneak out more instead of staring at the ceiling in our dorms when the night comes."

"You will get us into trouble," Harry sighed beside her, and she rolled her eyes at his words—something which her brother knew, even without seeing her face, "Don't do that Seph. You know how even a single night out of bounds can snowball into something much bigger for us. You know who all sit on the Board of Governors right? Even with Grandfather there, he can't do anything if all others vote for something unanimously."

"You are taking your newfound status as the older twin quite seriously," she groaned, turning around and leveling a glare at him that had always got him listening to her, "So now shut up and follow your younger sister, who by the way was your elder sister for several years! Besides Professor Quirrell called us here, so I doubt he'd let us get punished if we are caught."

"That…is right," he sighed, and she rolled her eyes, turning around to walk toward the Grand Staircase, "So, how are we going to get the Cerberus to stand down? Do you know a spell to create music? Are you hoping to slip by into whatever lies ahead by stealth?"

"We will see when we get there," she answered back, taking the first step upon the forever rotating and shifting staircase as she stared at the hundreds of paintings and torches that littered the walls of the gigantic chamber. Some were as large as entire walls, while some were barely the size of a window, and yet, they seemed to fit together perfectly like a jigsaw, "You know, I think we could use some of these braziers down in the dungeons. Sometimes I feel as if the shadows actually crawl across the walls."

"I think that's just because you keep replaying that memory inside your head," he raised an eyebrow, and Persephone hummed in response, thinking back on the battlefield they had seen in Arcturus' memories. She supposed it was possible, as the part when the tendrils and pillars of darkness had erupted out of the ground replayed in her mind. It had excited adn terrified her at the same time, that one day she might be able to do even a percentage of all that…and that while others may not be able to perform that particular spell, they could just as well use any other to harm them. As if sensing her thoughts, her brother tapped her shoulder and asked "So, what do you think the test is?"

"Huh?" she blinked, looking over her shoulder at him as the bones and blood disappeared from her vision, "Oh, I think it will be some kind of obstacle course, or some casting competency thing. That, along with whether we read and understood the book completely or not will probably decide our apprenticeship with him."

"Well, let's get to it then," Harry grinned and ran forwards, skipping a stair at a time as it spun to point to their right, the painting of a large, rotund troll greeting them with a disgustingly long belch. Wrinkling his nose in disgust as he saw the large gray creature, Harry sheepishly looked back at Persephone's unamused face and nodded his head at the place where the staircase needed to be, "Or wait for the stairs to get to it I suppose."

"Rolling her eyes at him, Persephone shook her head and walked onto the second floor as the staircase aligned with a platform carved into an alcove, staring at the maze of staircases and platforms floating around the chamber. However, before she could do anything else, the platform they were standing on began to float upwards. She gripped the railing tightly, sharing a confused look with Harry as they rose to the third floor slowly, and the four entrances that led into the second-floor corridors disappeared behind the other stairs.

She raised her eyes as the platform came to a stop on the third floor, the stone connecting seamlessly with the floor in an instant. Ahead of her, the forbidden corridor looked like a cave emerging from darkness, nothing beyond a few feet visible in the windowless expanse of cold stone. Persephone had learned to trust a few things in her life unconditionally over her life. The first was her brother, the second was their magic...and the third was her intuition. And at that moment, with the end of the third-floor corridor swallowed up by blackness and her brother beside her, she knew that something other than their test was happening here tonight—after all, according to Neville, the legendary Philosopher's Stone was also hidden somewhere behind the Cerberus in this corridor.

Just what had Professor Quirrell planned for them?