Harry waited with barely suppressed excitement for Hermione and Neville's return the following day, itching to tell them what he had found out. The Hogwarts Express was due to arrive at six, and the moment the minute hand hit twelve, Harry was in the Common Room, watching for the Fat Lady's portrait to open and for them to step through.
The first to arrive were the older students, but slowly first-years began trickling in, too. Harry saw Seamus and Dean come through, then Nura and Raul, and then, finally, Neville with Hermione.
The moment Harry saw them, he waved excitedly. At first, the two of them did not even see him in the sea of students, but when they did, they waved back and squeezed through the crowd to where Harry was sitting, almost bursting with anticipation.
'I have so much to tell you,' Harry said the moment they were in earshot. 'So much happened here…'
'A "hello" first would have been nice,' Neville grumbled without anger or annoyance. 'A lot happened over the holidays for me, too,' he added, 'but most of it will probably be boring.'
'I'm sure it's not.'
'Oh, yes, it is,' Hermione said. 'He complained the whole ride up about his grandmother forcing him to go to dinner parties.'
'You try it yourself and see how you feel,' Neville muttered.
'Anyway, we need to talk,' Harry said. 'And somewhere quiet. Come with me.'
'Can't we put down our things first?' Hermione asked.
'Quickly, and then meet me down here.'
The two of them disappeared up their respective staircases with their trunks, returning several minutes later, hands empty and slightly pink in the face. Harry, without another word, led them out through the portrait hole, disappearing unnoticed in the crowd of returning students.
He led them all the way down to the classroom that he used to practise spells in. It was the same one across from the room where he had found the Mirror of Erised, and for a moment, he wanted to check if it was there. Quickly, though, he killed that urge, reminding himself that everything that he had seen in that mirror was a fabrication. It still hurt a little to tell himself that, but it worked, and he pushed the Mirror out of his mind.
'Where are we?' Hermione asked, looking around at the chairs stacked against the rear wall.
'An unused classroom,' Harry answered. 'I came here to practise spells over the holidays. Thanks for the book, by the way, Neville.'
'You're welcome,' Neville replied. 'What did you need to tell us?'
Without a second's delay, Harry launched into an explanation of what he had found out, starting with Hermione's book, into Harry's trip to the library under the invisibility cloak, and ending with what he had found out in the book. The two of them listened with their full attention, eyes growing wider as Harry's story continued.
'The Philosopher's Stone?' Hermione said when Harry finished. 'You think that's what's hidden under the trap door?'
'It makes sense, doesn't it?' Harry asked. 'We know it has to be something valuable and powerful, because someone actually tried to steal it from Gringotts, and because Dumbledore is guarding it with a Cerberus and who knows what else. We know that it has something to do with Nicholas Flamel, and we know it must have something to do with alchemy. It fits, doesn't it?'
'And Snape would definitely have a reason to steal something like that,' Neville said. 'If he really wants to get powerful, then that's definitely something he would want to steal. He'd know how to use something like that, too, being a potions master and all. It sounds possible.'
'Nothing has happened since November,' he added. 'That makes me uncomfortable. If Snape is up to something, he definitely wouldn't have spent the last two months sitting around. I'll bet he's waiting for something, maybe for when Dumbledore is distracted, to do something.'
Without consciously intending to, Harry kept a closer eye on Snape through the rest of January, subconsciously taking note of where he saw him in the corridors, when he arrived and left the Great Hall or the potions classroom, or even what his daily mood was. He did not seem to be up to anything too out of the ordinary, the only thing that Harry noticed was that his mood was generally more irascible – though he did not take it out on Harry or any of the other Gryffindors as he had at the beginning of the year.
Once or twice, though, Harry saw him speaking to a scared-looking Quirrell in the corridors. 'He needs something from Quirrell,' Hermione theorised the second time they saw them talking, Snape leaning over a cowering Quirrell. 'Maybe he wants him to do something for him, or maybe he wants some object or information. They're obviously not having a casual chat.'
They took their self-defence training as seriously as ever, and now, as their classes progressed, they were able to learn some more complex spells that they had been unable to before, such as the Stinging Hex or the Tripping Jinx. Once, Harry snuck into the Restricted Section under the invisibility cloak to look for more books on defence, but found that it was not a productive use of his time. The books in the Restricted Section were all far too advanced for them, even the ones that did not directly teach spells.
Neville, meanwhile, seemed quite interested in Harry's cloak, especially about the fact that it had once been his father's. 'It's odd that it's an heirloom,' he remarked once. 'I've never heard of invisibility cloaks being passed down between generations.'
'Why not?' Harry asked. 'Are they rare or something?'
'Well, yes,' Neville said. 'But that's not the reason. True invisibility cloaks don't really last long enough to be kept around for ten-odd years, especially if they're not being used. But you said your dad used it – so it must've been around even longer. Usually, they're woven from the hair of a Demiguise – Gran had one of those when she was younger – but those hairs will slowly lose their magic after about a decade. They'll start showing the silhouette of whoever's underneath first, and then, slowly, they'll become solid altogether. Your dad's cloak, though, still seems to work perfectly, which is odd.'
'Maybe it's not from the hair of a Demi…whatever?' Harry proposed.
'Maybe, but then, it wouldn't be a true invisibility cloak,' Neville replied. 'There're cloaks enchanted with charms, but they don't make you actually invisible like yours does, they just blend you in with your surroundings. They also only work for magical beings, since they need your magic to work, but your cloak can hide anything, even random objects. Plus, they require a lot of maintenance, especially after a few years. Unless Dumbledore was spending hours a week caring for it, it couldn't be one of those. And plus, false invisibility cloaks are pretty common, as far as invisibility cloaks go, so I'm not sure why your dad would want to leave you one of those, anyway.'
'What do you think it is, then?' Harry asked.
Neville shrugged. 'I don't know. Maybe it's made from some rarer material, or maybe something long-lost. There're stories out there of invisibility cloaks lasting for centuries. It might be one of those. If it were, it'd make sense that your father left it to you.'
They did not dig deeper into the matter of the invisibility cloak, though, as their free time was now getting more limited. Classes were becoming more challenging, especially in Transfiguration. Not only were they learning more complex magic – such as transfigurations that modified the properties of an object – the theory of the class had also gotten more challenging. They all struggled, for example, to grasp Gamp's three Fundamental Laws of Transfiguration, along with all their exceptions – and Professor McGonagall's rather technical explanation when they approached her for clarification did not exactly help. Harry asked Anna, but she could not explain it well, either. Finally, they went to Professor Cauverina to seek an explanation, and she seemed rather happy to see them come to her.
'The first law says that the magical energy needed to perform a transfiguration depends on the difference between the weight of the final object and the starting object,' she explained. 'If we transfigure a wooden plank to gold, it'll take less energy than if I tried to transfigure a whole tree to gold. That's all "a function of the mass difference between initial and final state" means.'
'What about the "preserved in inverse" part?' Harry asked. 'What does that mean?'
'Simple,' Professor Cauverina replied. 'Transfiguring a wooden plank to a golden plank takes the same amount of energy as transfiguring a golden plank to a wooden plank. Same difference in weight, same energy requirement.'
'Why couldn't Professor McGonagall have explained it this way?' Harry heard Neville grumble as he took down notes, looking like he understood.
'Professor McGonagall is trying to be correct,' Professor Cauverina answered. 'She's trying to give you the absolute definition for what the laws say. I just explained it in a way that might be easier to understand, but might not be what the laws themselves say. Now that you know what they basically say, though, you'll be able to understand the laws themselves.'
Harry nodded in understanding. 'What about the second law, then?'
'The second law basically says that the length of time a transfigured object can stay in its transfigured state is determined by how accurately you apply your energy,' Professor Cauverina explained. 'If the difference between the required amount of energy and the energy you apply is small, the transfiguration will last longer. If it's large, the transfiguration will last for a shorter time. No transfiguration, though, can last forever.'
'Finally, the third law,' she continued. 'The third law is actually very simple. Transfiguration of an object will always expend less energy than conjuring the object from nothing. Does that make sense?'
Hermione nodded, noting it all down. 'Thanks, Professor,' she said gratefully. 'I understand this now.'
'You're very welcome,' Professor Cauverina replied. 'Any more questions?'
'Yeah, I have one more,' Hermione said. 'What are the exceptions to the laws?'
'Oh, there're many,' Professor Cauverina said with a smile. 'There's a whole sub-field of arithmancy that deals with crafting spells to overcome the exceptions and to make known transfigurations more energy-efficient. There are a few main ones, though. The first is that you cannot transfigure anything into living beings, magical or not, in a process that obeys the first law. Transfiguration from a living being to an inanimate object – which would kill it – is basically impossible, because it will take so much energy to overcome life. Transfiguration from an inanimate object to a living being is far easier, but the resulting being won't be actually sentient. The second law, though, still applies.'
'There're things that are impossible to do with transfiguration, too,' she continued. 'It's impossible to transfigure anything into a magical object, because you can't replicate a magical object's magic with a general-purpose transfiguration spell. So, say, you wanted to transfigure a block of wood into an auto-correcting quill, that's impossible. It's also impossible to transfigure anything into something that's been made by magic that humans can't perform. So, for example, goblin-made objects have very special properties, such as resisting corrosion or keeping its sharpness, but since those were made with goblin magic, humans can't simply transfigure a goblin-made knife.'
'But you said with arithmancy, these exceptions can be overcome?' Hermione asked.
'Well, maybe I didn't use the right word,' Professor Cauverina replied. 'Arithmancy can't help you do the impossible, but it can help you create spells to make, say, transfiguring something into an animal easier. Let me show you.' She took out a piece of parchment and drew a line that curved sharply upwards. 'Let's say this is how much energy it would take to transfigure a block of wood into an animal – you see that even with a slight increase in, say, size, you'll need a huge increase in transcendental energy.'
She then drew a second line, which was still curved up, but less steeply. 'If you do some clever tricks, you can make the energy differential – that's just a fancy term for how much extra energy is needed for an increase in some attribute – less for a specific animal. That's what arithmancy tries to do. It's a tool that lets you build spells that are more specific than the general-purpose spell, and hopefully require less energy and effort to use.'
'Could you do that for spells that aren't transfiguration?' Hermione asked, curious. 'Like with charms?'
'Sure,' Professor Cauverina said. 'Ever wondered where all the different versions of a Wand-Lighting Charm came from? Someone modified them and changed their properties, and to create new spells, you absolutely need to understand how the principles of arithmancy work. Everything you learn in your classes can be eventually traced back to arithmancy. That's why I like it so much – it's the foundation of everything.'
'That sounds so interesting, doesn't it?' Hermione remarked later as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. 'Knowing arithmancy lets you literally create magic. That's incredible.'
'It seems like a lot of numbers,' Neville said. 'Like, a lot of numbers.'
'Numbers are interesting, though.'
'Professor Katic's class is enough for me. Not particularly inclined to volunteer for Arithmancy in third year,' Neville replied, shuddering a little. 'Harry, you're interested in Eltrys for some reason, and now Hermione wants to do arithmancy. It's like you two like torturing yourself.'
'And you like herbology,' Harry rebutted. 'Who likes herbology? It's literally just shovelling dirt for two-and-a-half hours a week.'
'Don't insult Herbology! It's the most interesting class here!' Neville exclaimed. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes at him and laughed in response.
That night, for some reason – perhaps due to the terms still floating around in his head – Harry could not sleep. After some time trying, he laid awake in his bed, glancing out of the window that looked out over onto the grounds. It was a clear, moon-lit night, and Harry could see the trees of the forest rustling, silvery light reflecting off their somehow – magically, perhaps – still-green leaves.
Harry watched as a figure, wearing a black cloak which concealed all of its features, came into view at the bottom of the window. It walked in a straight line in the direction of the forest, not once stopping or slowing its pace. Harry thought it might, perhaps, make a left turn, towards where Hagrid's hut was, but it did not, instead charging headlong into the forest and disappearing between the trees.
He wondered what someone might be expecting, going into the Hogwarts forest near midnight. According to Fred and George, it held all sorts of terrifying creatures that Harry would not want to have anything to do with. Whoever it was must have been looking for something, Harry thought. Briefly, he considered the possibility that it was Snape – was he perhaps finding another troll, or had he hidden something sinister in there? But then it occurred to him that, perhaps, he should not jump to that conclusion. Snape may be up to something with the Philosopher's Stone, but right now, he might have just been gathering potions ingredients – after all, there were some that, according to the textbook, could be collected only at night. If there was truly something dangerous in the forest, Harry supposed that Dumbledore would at least have a clue of its presence.
About thirty minutes later, Harry caught sight of the figure exiting from the forest. From so high up, he could not make out any details of the figure's face, but as it made its way back towards the castle, Harry thought that it was walking a little faster than it had before.
Possibly because of the benign motive that had struck upon him, Harry had completely forgotten about the mysterious figure by the time he woke up the next morning, as classes began again. The first class of the day, Finding Magic, went completely normally, Professor Cauverina teaching the class techniques for precisely controlling the amount of transcendental energy they generate, something Harry found rather intuitive, for it seemed to require no more than a good feel for one's magic.
But during the second class of the day – Defence Against the Dark Arts – it seemed like the sword finally dropped. As Professor Quirrell was lecturing through Common Pixies and how to defeat them with Freezing Charms, sounding more nervous than he usually did, a sudden shrill alarm-like sound pierced Harry's ear. Reflexively, he covered his ears with his hands, wincing, but the sound did not grow quieter. Harry glanced over at Hermione in the seat next to him, and she had a confused and frightened expression on her face.
'All students are to stay put in their classrooms,' came the voice of Professor McGonagall over the sounds of the sirens. 'There has been an intruder detected. All students are to remain in their current or nearest classroom, or in their Common Rooms, until further notice.'
'C-Class,' Professor Quirrell stammered, looking frightened. 'S-Stay in the r-room. D-Do not t-talk. I will b-be right b-back.'
With that, he headed towards the door. Harry wondered where he was heading – had Professor McGonagall not just instructed teachers and students to stay in the classrooms? And then, through the chaos, Harry understood. Snape must have been using the intruder alarm as a distraction to go after the Philosopher's Stone. Was Quirrell going to Headmaster Dumbledore? Or was he going to head him off in the third-floor corridor? Should Harry tell him what they knew, just in case he ran into Snape?
All that, however, went out the window, as the very moment Quirrell opened the classroom door, he found himself face-to-face with Snape. Harry watched with shock as the two men stared at each other, in what seemed to be the unlikeliest and most frightening coincidence. Snape's face was stoic, not giving anything away, and though Harry could not see all of Quirrell's features, he knew that they must have borne a terrified expression.
After several long seconds, Snape raised one eyebrow, his eyes still fixed pointedly on Quirrell. Quirrell did not say anything, nor do anything, for a long moment, but then gave his head a slight shake. Snape's eyebrow rose higher, and Quirrell shook his head again, harder.
'We will get to the bottom of this, I'm sure,' Snape said in a low, menacing voice. Before Quirrell had time to react, Snape walked away, closing the door hard behind him.
Quirrell stood, looking at the closed door, for nearly a minute. Finally, he turned around, facing the class, his countenance a forced, emotionless mask. 'N-No need to w-worry, s-students,' he said, walking back towards the front of the room. 'P-Professor S-S-Snape has taken care of…of it.'
Harry exchanged a look with Hermione, and she exchanged one in turn with Neville. They were all wondering the same thing as him, Harry was sure. What did this mean? Had Quirrell been unable to face down Snape at the very last moment and let him go after the Stone? Was Snape heading towards the third-floor corridor at that very moment? Or was he already through the corridor, nothing more standing between him and the Stone?
'What's going on, Professor?' Lavender Brown asked, her voice high and trembling.
'N-Nothing major, I'm…I'm sure,' Professor Quirrell replied. 'N-Nothing Headmaster D-D-Dumbledore can't t-take care of. H-He must b-be on it as we s-speak.'
So Dumbledore was still in the castle, if Professor Quirrell's information was right. That, however, seemed to comfort Harry and disquiet him at the same time. Dumbledore might be able to stop Snape, sure, but if Snape had grown brazen enough to make an attempt on the Stone without luring Dumbledore away first, what could have given him that confidence? Was he sure that any attempt could succeed? Did he have a strategy to outmanoeuvre Dumbledore planned out? Or perhaps was this a trial run, designed to test Dumbledore's response so that the next attempt could succeed?
Harry did not have more time to wonder, though, for soon after, Professor McGonagall's voice rang out again. 'The castle is secure,' she said, 'classes can resume.'
The class breathed a collective sigh of relief, but Harry did not feel the same.
The guillotine's blade was raised higher than it had ever been, but still, it did not fall – not in January, not in February, not in March, and not in the first weeks of April, either. Life at Hogwarts continued as it had always, and the incident seemed all but forgotten merely two days later as the school's gossip grapevine resumed to its normal state – apparently, the latest rumour was that Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain Oxley had been caught snogging the Prefect, Penelope Clearwater, something that seemed to cause Percy Weasley a lot of grief.
And Harry, too, tried to live a normal life and put what he knew out of his mind, as Anna had advised him to do months ago. He went to classes, watched the Gryffindor Quidditch Team win against Slytherin thanks to Raul's narrow victory against the Slytherin Seeker, Higgs, in the race for the snitch, and cheered as Ron won the Inter-House Wizard's Chess Championship, taking home ten Sickles and earning every Gryffindor a bottle of butterbeer. He, Neville, and Hermione went several times to Hagrid for tea, and Harry often saw Anna in the library. Despite neither of them touching on their pasts again, Harry felt a sort of understanding with her that he did not with even Hermione or Neville. She, out of everyone he had met, knew first-hand what it really was like.
But as much as Harry wanted it to feel normal, life could not simply be that way. Occasionally, he noticed happenings around Hogwarts – such as the lone figure walking into the Forbidden Forest, which Harry spotted several more times but could not guess at the identity nor the intentions of, or perhaps the trail of dirty shoeprints leading out from the forbidden corridor to the third-floor landing. Snape was planning something, and sometimes, Harry had to wonder what Dumbledore was doing to stop him. He had to know what was happening, did he not? What was he waiting for to take action?
Term examinations were drawing closer, but all Gryffindor was excited about was the final Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. Winning the match would put Gryffindor firmly in second place for the year, behind only Ravenclaw, but if they lost – depending on how much they lost by – they would lose the second place to Hufflepuff, or worse, be relegated to fourth place, behind every one of the other Houses.
A lot of hope was riding on Raul's performance, which had improved greatly from the first match of the year – though as the Common-Room discussion suggested, was still yet not at the level of Hufflepuff's Seeker, Cedric Diggory. Hermione and Neville were having regular Quidditch discussions with the other first-years, who were just as invested in the outcome as they were. Harry, though he wanted Gryffindor to win, did not find Quidditch as interesting as they did. Nonetheless, he joined in in the Common Room, listening in and occasionally making fun of Hermione for her abrupt about-face with regards to her attitude towards Quidditch.
Anna, too, tried to convince him of the joys of Quidditch. 'Don't judge Quidditch until you've seen professionals play – especially the Germans,' she said often. 'Saxony is especially good. The Bavarians are good, too, but I like the Saxons' style more. Personally, Puddlemere United is the only team in England that has a good chance at winning against them, and even they might not be able to stand up to Saxony.'
Harry supposed it might be interesting, but he was still not convinced to dress himself entirely in red and gold on the day of the match. The Gryffindor section of the stands alternated between screams of excitement and groans of disappointment as the game see-sawed between the two opposing sides, scoring alternating goals, neither being able to gain much of an advantage over the other. By half-time, Hufflepuff was ahead by twenty points, though in a close game like this, that was not much of an advantage at all.
But Harry's full attention was not on the game itself. Rather, it was on Professor Snape, who sat about halfway around the pitch from him. Using the binoculars that Neville's grandmother had sent all of them the previous day, Harry snuck peeks at Snape, and noticed that his face was full of tension, and was casting looks at the empty seat next to him, who, by process of deduction, Harry realised must have belonged to Professor Quirrell. Just about fifteen minutes after half-time was called, Harry watched as Snape suddenly rose from his seat and walked down the stairs out of the stadium.
Seeing as Hermione and Neville were engrossed in the match, Harry did not disturb them with the news, instead keeping an eye on the teachers' section for any sign of Snape's return. He, however, did not, even as the Quidditch game drew into its last ten minutes, Hufflepuff a mere ten points ahead.
Then, suddenly and entirely by accident, as his binoculars swept past the tree line of the forest beyond, Harry saw once again the lone, dark-cloaked figure that he had seen time and again at night, walking in a straight line towards the forest. He turned his binoculars back towards the teachers' box, and Snape was still eerily absent. The coincidence was too great to be just that. The figure had to be Snape, Harry thought, and he had to be up to more than gathering potion ingredients – what was waiting for him in the forest that could have been so urgent that he needed to leave right in the middle of a Quidditch game?
Harry began to theorise what it was that Snape could be doing in the forest, but he was jerked out of his thoughts by a roar from the Gryffindor stands. He jumped in fright, thinking that something terrible had happened, before he realised that it was the deafening sounds of cheering. The Gryffindor team was piled up in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch as the Hufflepuff team looked on, sullen expressions on their faces.
'Full time!' Harry heard the voice of Lee Jordan call out. 'Neither team catches the Golden Snitch, and Gryffindor wins by ten points! This has to be one of the closest and most exciting games that Hogwarts has seen in recent years. Well played, Gryffindor, well played, Hufflepuff!'
It took forever for the Gryffindors, who were already raucously celebrating their victory, to get out of the stands. Harry, wanting to talk away from the rush of students no doubt heading to an even bigger party in the Common Room, dragged Hermione and Neville on a detour, making the excuse that he wanted to visit Hagrid, who he had not spotted at the match.
'You wanted to talk about something,' Hermione guessed the moment they were out of earshot of the other students. 'I saw you were looking everywhere besides the pitch during the match. What did you see?'
'Snape,' Harry answered. 'Snape left the stadium just after Madam Hooch called the half.'
'Snape left?' Neville asked.
Harry nodded. 'I saw him get up and leave the stands.'
'Do you know where he went?'
'Into the forest.'
'The forest?' Neville gasped, sounding disbelieving. 'Are you sure? Why would he go into the forest?'
Harry nodded again. 'I forgot to tell you this, but several times, late at night, I saw someone walking into the forest, wearing a dark cloak. They would spend maybe half an hour in there before coming out. I didn't know who it was or what they were doing, but right after Snape left the stands, I saw the figure walking into the forest again. It can't be just a random coincidence, can it?'
'It doesn't sound like one,' Neville agreed.
'Are you absolutely sure that it's Snape, though?' Hermione asked, dissenting. 'I mean…you didn't see the figure's face, did you?'
'Could it be anyone else?' Harry argued. 'He was the only one who left the Quidditch game – well, I noticed that Professor Quirrell and Hagrid weren't there, either, but the figure was too small to be Hagrid, and Quirrell doesn't seem like someone who'd want to go into the forest all on his own, does he?'
'He doesn't seem like he'd want to get anywhere near it,' Hermione agreed. 'Especially if what Ron's brothers say is right, and there's all sorts of monsters living in there.'
'Maybe he's hiding something there,' Harry supposed. 'I mean, I'd thought that he was just collecting potion ingredients when he went into the forest at night, but this doesn't seem like it, does it? Are there any potion ingredients that absolutely must be collected at…I don't know…two-thirty in the afternoon?'
Hermione shook her head. 'Not that I know of. But still, what would someone want to hide in the forest?'
'Maybe some kind of weapon?'
'And risk having it being damaged by wild animals?'
Harry did not know what exactly the answer to that question might be, and they continued walking in silence in the direction of Hagrid's hut, thinking. When they approached, Harry spotted Hagrid outside, something large in his hands, as he stood before a large table. Fang, his pet boarhound, circled at his feet, snapping at birds that landed every so often around him. As they got closer, Harry saw that there were two flask-like containers on the table, both containing a sort of silvery liquid.
'Hi, Hagrid!' Neville called.
Hagrid turned, almost knocking into the table. 'Oh, hello, Harry, Hermione, Neville. What're you doing here?'
'Coming to see you,' Harry answered. It was sort of a lie – he had just needed an excuse to get them away from the crowd, but now that they were here, he thought that they may as well pay the gamekeeper a visit.
'Oh, well, uh…that's nice of you,' Hagrid said, setting the thing in his hand down on the ground. 'Truth be told, right now might not be the greatest time. I'm busy, see.'
'What're you working on?' Hermione asked, sounding curious. 'And what was that in your hand?'
'Oh, that?' Hagrid said, pointing to what was lying at his feet. Hermione nodded. 'That's my crossbow. I just came out of the forest. It's better to be safe than sorry in there, even if you know what you're doing.'
'What were you in the forest for?' Harry asked, suddenly feeling a sense of anticipation. Had Dumbledore tasked Hagrid with tailing Snape to find out what he was doing? If he did, what had he found?
'Something the headmaster asked me to do,' Hagrid replied, and Harry's heart sped up at the confirmation.
'What did he ask you to do?'
'Investigate something,' Hagrid answered. 'The unicorns in the forest were acting strangely. They normally don't avoid me or Albus, see? But recently, they have. Albus wanted me to check out what was going on.'
'What happened, then?' Harry enquired.
'Found a puddle of silvery liquid in there. Looks like unicorn blood,' Hagrid said, pointing to the two flasks on his table. 'One of them's been hurt by something – probably a human, seeing as how they've been avoiding us. I collected some samples for Albus to take a look at. See if he can figure out who did it and why.'
'Why would someone want to hurt a unicorn?' Hermione asked. 'They don't seem dangerous, do they?'
'No, they're the least dangerous thing out there,' Hagrid answered. 'They're very shy – won't go near anyone, except for Albus and I. There's no reason to hurt a unicorn. Unicorn hair is used for wand-making, and unicorn horn in potions, but you can get both those things without touching the animal itself.'
'So why did someone hurt them?'
'I haven't the slightest clue,' Hagrid replied. 'Legend has it that unicorn blood has life-saving properties, but the same legends also say that you'd have to be absolutely barking mad to try to drink it. And legends are just legends, anyway. So…no idea. Albus would know far better than I do, though.'
'Did you see anyone when you were in the forest?' Harry asked, suddenly realising that Hagrid might know something about the identity of the cloaked figure. 'You said you just came back out, right?'
Hagrid looked confused as he shook his head. 'No, I don't think so. Should I have?'
Harry exchanged looks with Hermione and Neville, silently asking if he should tell Hagrid what he had seen. Both, immediately, gave nods of affirmation.
'During the Quidditch match, I saw Professor Snape leave the stands,' Harry recounted. 'And then, thirty minutes later, I saw a person wearing a dark cloak go into the forest. I was just wondering if you saw someone like that when you were in there.'
'Someone in a dark cloak?' Hagrid replied, thinking. 'No…no, I don't think I've seen anyone like that. What would Professor Snape want in the forest?'
Harry shrugged. 'We don't know, but maybe it has something to do with the unicorns?'
Hagrid looked between the blood on his table and Harry. 'Professor Snape…hurt a unicorn? He doesn't seem like someone who would. He knows how to harvest unicorn horn and hair without hurting it. I've seen him do it many times.'
'It's just what I saw,' Harry asserted. 'I've also seen the same person go into the forest at night a few times in the last few months.'
'Well…that's certainly…odd. I'll bring it up with Headmaster Dumbledore,' Hagrid promised. 'You, meanwhile, try not to get near the forest. Whatever's been hurting the unicorns might be dangerous, and you wouldn't want to get caught in their way.'
After that day, Harry did not see the dark-cloaked figure again – not during the day, and not during the night. It seemed like Dumbledore had figured something out from the unicorn blood or Harry's account – or both – and acted. A part of Harry, though, felt somewhat unnerved by this – if Dumbledore had stopped Snape from accessing whatever it was that he kept in the forest, would he become desperate enough to try something dramatic, and soon? And if Dumbledore knew enough to act now, what was he waiting for to have Snape arrested? He would surely have enough evidence against him by now, if even Harry did.
In the meantime, Harry, Hermione, and Neville did the best that they could, trying to learn spells for self-defence, but finding that they had exhausted all the spells that they could have any hope of mastering at their level. Quirrell's teaching, which was never good to begin with, seemed to have fallen off a cliff since the first weeks of April – starting almost exactly from the weekend of the final Quidditch match. Harry, recalling that he had not been present, wondered if he had fallen seriously ill – or if the prospect of Snape going after the Stone worried him so much that he was feeling physical effects. The garlic smell in his room, Harry noticed, seemed to lessen somewhat, and with it, the familiar feeling of disruption to Harry's magic.
Snape, too, seemed more on edge than ever, perhaps because of the stress of getting found out by Dumbledore or his plans not succeeding. After nearly an entire year of relatively good behaviour towards Harry, he was once again snapping at them, deducting points for arbitrary mistakes, and sometimes giving Harry far lower grades than what he probably should have deserved. Some Slytherin students – Draco and Pansy's gangs most of all – emboldened by his behaviour, began a renewed offensive against the Gryffindors, consisting of mean pranks, name-calling, and the occasional magical altercation. The other houses, seeing a chance to settle some old scores with rivals or personal enemies, soon joined in, and the school erupted in a wave of violence in the corridors.
Some of the older students ended up in the hospital wing with spell injuries, but thankfully, none of the first-years knew enough magic to seriously hurt one another, though Ron's group was once involved in a rather serious physical brawl with Draco's that ended up with Raul getting a black eye and Draco, an ugly scratch across his cheek, purportedly from his face getting dragged across a particularly rough section of stone floor. Draco and Pansy, who have always been rather dismissive of Professor Cauverina's lessons, seemed to escalate their disapproval to open scoffing as she taught them about the geography of the magical world, something that she chose to ignore in favour of continuing to teach as if nothing was happening,
It was a pity that some found it dull, Harry thought, for geography was in fact fascinating. The magical world, as he found out, was a completely different layer on Earth, parallel to the non-magical one, separated by magic since the Statute of Secrecy. There were places like the Leaky Cauldron where the magical world was connected to the non-magical, but other than those, there was no passing between the two – even though Diagon Alley and Tottenham Court Road shared approximately the same physical location on the Earth, there was not even the remotest chance of interaction between the two. The separation had led to the development of completely different countries, cities, and histories in the two 'layers' since 1692. Harry found it incredible that two such different parallel worlds could exist on the same Earth, each completely unaware of the other's existence.
Anna, meanwhile, was the polar opposite of the Finding Magic professor. She, instead, opted to punish anyone and everyone – Gryffindor, Slytherin, or otherwise – who so much as had their wand pointed in another student's direction with massive point losses. Once, she docked Draco's entire gang eighty points each, with a detention to boot, for attempting to jinx Harry, Hermione, and Neville. Hermione thought that it might have been a little unfair, but she did not complain, for even she had to agree that they deserved it. Plus, after that incident, the attacks on the three of them, for the most part, stopped.
'She could give Professor McGonagall a run for her money,' Neville had remarked.
Harry, who felt like he understood why she probably hated seeing all these people with wands out, fighting – even if not entirely seriously – did not say anything.
Other teachers, too, stepped in. Fights were broken up, points taken, and detentions assigned. Professor McGonagall, in a rare act of favour, awarded extra points to Gryffindors to make up for those that Snape had unjustly taken away. Temporarily, students were suspended from visiting one another's tables at mealtimes to discourage arguments and fights, and the last Quidditch match of the year – Slytherin versus Hufflepuff to decide the third place – was postponed. The Prefect patrols increased in frequency, and after a week or so of pandemonium, the upsurge of hooliganism stopped, and soon, Snape's behaviour once again improved.
The beginning of May was more peaceful than usual, with the entire school's energy and tension seemingly having been released in the one week of chaos. Harry, who had thought that Snape might take advantage of the mayhem to strike – or perhaps he had planned it specifically for that purpose – did not in the end, leaving them all wondering when and how the inevitable would occur.
During the second week of May, a group of about five or six, all wearing red robes with large Ms on their chests, showed up at Hogwarts, and immediately took to patrolling the corridors, never once speaking to any of the students. Dumbledore, that day at lunch, explained their presence vaguely as a response to 'a threat made against Hogwarts via owl' – though Harry, Hermione, and Neville could guess at the truth.
'They're Aurors, from the Ministry,' Neville explained. 'They're specialists in capturing dark wizards. If they're at Hogwarts, that means Dumbledore's taking Snape's threat seriously.'
And then, that Thursday, fifteen minutes into their afternoon Defence Against the Dark Arts class, the magical sirens, once again, blasted over the castle and grounds. Seconds later, Professor McGonagall's voice followed.
'All students are to proceed immediately to the Entrance Hall with their teachers,' she said in a hasty, almost frightful tone. 'There is a fire in the left-hand corridor on the fourth floor. Stay as far away from the site as possible. Once again, all students to the Entrance Hall immediately.'
The class erupted in panic, everyone hastily shoving their things into their bookbags, frightened whispering breaking out amongst the students. 'R-Remain c-calm please!' Professor Quirrell called from the front of the room, sounding not very calm himself. 'I will l-lead you t-to the Entrance Hall. G-Go! Q-Quickly, out the d-door!'
Dean, who was sitting at the very back of the room, turned around and opened the door, joining the mass of students already evacuating. Harry, who sat near the front of the room, was one of the later ones in the line, which was surprisingly orderly as the students made their way one by one into the corridor.
'M-Mister P-P-Potter!' Quirrell called, just as Harry was about to go out the door. 'You d-dropped something.'
Harry turned around, breaking out of the line. Lying at the foot of the last desk was his book bag, its two straps broken. Harry picked it up, and unable to put it on, instead held it in his hand as tightly as he could.
Thanks to this delay, Harry was the last one out of the room, just ahead of Professor Quirrell himself. The rest of the class was already a distance ahead of them, following the corridor to the landing of the main staircase. Between them was a group of older students, who made it impossible for the two of them to join the rest of the group.
'Make a right here,' Quirrell said at the end of the corridor.
Harry looked at the other students turning left, towards the main staircase, and stood for a moment, confused. 'Do you mean left, Professor?'
'No, right,' Quirrell repeated. 'We won't catch up to the rest of the class this way. We'll use the teachers' staircase. It will take us directly to the Great Hall.'
Finding the instructions odd but trusting Quirrell – and thinking that if Snape was looking for him, he would be looking where all the rest of the students were first – Harry made a right turn down the deserted corridor. At the end, Harry could see a closed wooden door.
'Yes, that,' Professor Quirrell said. 'Go through and all the way down. It'll end in the Great Hall'
Harry reached down and turned the handle, revealing a narrow, dimly-lit spiral staircase. He began climbing down as quickly as he could, Quirrell entering behind him and shutting the door.
A flash of red, then Harry's world went black. A Levitation Charm lifted his unconscious body into the air before it even hit the ground.
