It was time. Tomorrow night was when Quirrell and Voldy would go after the Stone. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had no idea about the Philosopher's Stone or Fluffy or the trap door. I'd successfully protected my friends from danger and plot contrivances. Only one thing left to do now.

I inhaled deeply and ignored the copious amount of sweat forming at my palms. I shouldn't have been nervous. I had done so much in such a short amount of time. I'd killed trolls and shunned the demons plaguing my mind post Mom's death. I'd changed the course of this world's history forever. I'd taken the plot and changed it to my image.

So why was I so frightened of enacting the final part of this year's plan?

What was I so afraid of?

I swallowed my spit and steadied my breath. If I didn't do this, Voldy might just take the Mirror of Erised— and the Stone with it. If I didn't do this, I put everyone in danger. I wouldn't let Harry or anyone else face the battles that lay ahead. For my friends, I would gladly bear the burden.

I raised my fist and knocked on his door. The one man who could help me. The one man who could make it where I would survive long enough to ensure everyone else did too.

"Enter," he said.

Entering his office, I straightened my posture and walked towards Snape, ignoring the chair across from his desk where he currently sat.

He raised a black eyebrow at me. We hadn't been alone together since the day after Christmas.

"What is it, Miss Prince?" He said neutrally.

I did my best to not roll on the balls of my feet and ignore the loud flow of blood rushing to my head.

"I… Why do I exist? Why did you and Mom… create me?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. He clearly thought I was playing some trick.

"Please," I begged. I was looking at his face, but not his eyes.

"Sit down," he commanded.

I obliged.

"It was the night after…" his face hardened, "Someone had gotten married. I was… celebrating. Yes, I was celebrating at a muggle pub. Margarita was there. She was distraught over… a man. She was in tears. There was a muggle man who wouldn't leave her be, even after she told him no. It reminded me of someone else, an… an old friend. I wordlessly hexed him. She recognized it as magic. We drank together and…"

"You can stop there," I said. "I can put the rest together."

"Can you?" He asked mockingly. "I suppose that saves us a rather unpleasant conversation."

"Mom beat you to it," I lied. She wasn't around long enough to give me "The Talk."

"Was that all?"

I shook my head. "No, there's… there's something else. I know… I know you don't love me. You know I don't love you. But… but I'm still your daughter. And I need you to pretend that you care. I need you to pretend to trust and love me. Just for tonight and tomorrow. After that, we can go back to hating each other."

"I do not hate you." Snape seemed genuinely surprised. "When have I ever told you that?"

"Are… are you fucking kidding me? You… you seriously don't know how I could have gotten that impression? Mom's corpse was practically still warm when you dragged me from my family. The family you haven't allowed me to contact and are holding hostage in exchange for "good" behavior. You forced me to go by Prince— taking away one of the few connections I still have with Mom. You never refer to me by my correct middle name and you tried to drop me off at Grandma and Grandpa's thinking it would be a good "punishment" for what? For giving you some hair products? You flat out said you didn't love and ignored me for eleven god damn years. And you… and you have the cojones to…"

I was crying now. For so many reasons.

I was crying for my mom. I was crying for my family. I was crying for my name. I was crying for all the shit he put me through. I was crying for my plan getting so utterly fucked.

I was crying because I realized that deep down there was a disgusting part of me that wanted Severus Snape to love me as a father should.

The bastard just watched me shake and cry. At least he didn't yell at me for swearing or having emotions. Had any other student swore then broke down in front of him I knew he'd act a lot more hostile. I guess it was a lie to say he didn't treat me specially.

When he noticed my attempts to calm myself down weren't working he wordlessly reached into his desk then handed me a small vial.

Calming Draught, I recognized. He'd given it to me so many times before.

I downed it quickly. I hated the scent and taste of lingering lavender. I think I might have been allergic in my previous life because every time I drank it I felt a small surge of panic. Although who knows. Maybe I'd been poisoned by a lavender macaron or something. I would go out that stupidly.

"What did you need?" He asked me as neutrally as he could.

I didn't know if my plan would work anymore, but it was worth a shot.

"You can't ask me how I know something. Please." I added when he began to glare.

"Do tell me why I can't do something."

"If you really have to know, I… I did a lot of stalking and research in my free time," I lied. But that would be the last lie I would tell tonight. "I swear on our blood that everything I'm about to tell you is true and that you can trust me."

"Swear on Margarita," he said.

I gulped. "I swear on my mother's life and grave. You're all I can trust with this."

Truthfully, I was more afraid of Dumbledore than Snape. Not because I thought he was evil or anything, but because I was scared that he'd figure out I was from another world. If he knew about my knowledge, he might ask me to let things run as they had before. And I couldn't allow that. Getting Dumbledore involved was the last resort.

"What is it, child?"

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

"Tomorrow Night Quirrell is going to try to steal the Philosopher's Stone— yes I know about that, no nobody else does. He's figured out how to get past Hagrid's Cerberus and I don't doubt his ability to get past everything else. Even your obstacle. Really, why didn't you just poison each vial? Never mind that, Quirrell isn't alone. He's been speaking to someone— and he hasn't been stuttering. I need the Mirror of Erised moved somewhere where only you and Headmaster Dumbledore know about it. I also need you to make sure said headmaster is here.

"…"

"…Did you catch all that?"

Snape stared at me, somehow even more blankly than before. He honestly looked as though his consciousness had made the executive decision that this was too much and it was leaving.

"…Sn— Professor?"

"…"

"…You good?"

"…"

It would be a while before he came back, and when he did he pulled out a lot of firewhiskey.

"How—"

"I told you, I did a lot of stalking and research. Look, the first-year workload isn't exactly heavy. I had a lot of free time."

Snape pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose. I don't know why people brought up his nose as an insult. It was on the larger side, yes, but it's not like having a hooked nose is a bad thing. Honestly, it suited his face fairly well.

"Clearly." He said slowly.

"So… about that ancient artifact that grants eternal gold and life…"

"Get out."

My eyebrows shot up, "What? Why?! I'm doing the responsible thing and going to a teacher instead of trying to defend the Stone by myself! Please you have to believe me! You're the only one—"

"Aurelia Rosita Rodriguez!" My eyes widened. He had used my real name. "Go to your room this instant. Now!" He barked.

The calming draught I'd taken earlier kept me from breaking down again.

I couldn't believe it.

I'd put too much faith in my father.

And so I'd lost.

" Aurelia, are you alright?" Asked Daphne as I entered the first-year girls' dorm.

"Peachy keen," I said.

The other girls furrowed their brows in confusion. Even Millicent, the resident translator for my Americanisms was lost.

I sighed and flopped on my bed, "It means that I'm doing great."

"No," said Pansy sternly, "You are most certainly not."

She sat next near my feet then turned to the others, "Go to the common room, please."

They were hesitant until Pansy glared at them.

They left the room in a quick and orderly fashion.

Pansy turned to me and gently traced circles on my back, "Aurelia, darling, what's wrong?"

Pansy Parkinson was an enigma to me. She was classist and prejudiced and a bit vicious, but to anyone she considered a friend she was as loyal and caring as anyone could be. And for some reason, I was on her list of acceptable people. I wondered how she'd think of me if she knew how "progressive" I truly was, or if she knew my mother was a muggle-born.

I wondered if Pansy would be here comforting me, demanding to let her know what's wrong if she knew I was just a lower-class Mexican half-blood who would rather die than consider someone like her or Draco a real friend.

"…I'm just tired is all."

"Was it that mudblood and scar-head you and Weasley hang around?"

My eyes widened, "Pansy!"

She seemed genuinely taken aback, "What? I know only you spend time with her for her marks and Potter for his money and status. I don't blame you, really." Her eyes softened, "But it must be exhausting. You really should spend more time with me and the girls. Or even other Slytherins in general."

It almost knocked the wind out of my lungs, the way she casually said those things. If I was a pure and proper Slytherin girl, Pansy would have been my truest friend.

But I wasn't. I was merely playing the part. "The Game," as Ron and I bitterly called it.

I sat up and forced a smile, "Thanks, Pans. You always know just what to say."

She smiled back. It was a genuine and pure smile that unsettled me to my core. But maybe there was hope for Pansy Parkinson. Maybe I could get her to see things in a new light. I would just have to play my cards well for the next few years.

The dark-haired girl reached over and gave me what was probably the first proper hug I'd received in nearly a year. Pansy was warm and smelt like cherries and vanilla. I allowed myself to lean into her. Just for now.

I almost hated her for not being as one-dimensional as Rowling made her out to be.

"Hey, Zinnia," I greeted as I plopped down next to her in the common room.

She looked up from her study guide, "What do you need, Prince?"

"Can you explain to me the difference between Bombarda and Reducto?"

"I could, but why would I?"

"Because when you're a healer you're going to have to help people and not expect anything in return. Helping me out is good practice."

She narrowed her icy eyes at me. They reminded me greatly of Elisnore's eyes. I wondered if we were related somehow, but then I remembered she and dearest Grandma Elsie were both purebloods. We were absolutely related.

"Aren't you a firstie? You won't be learning about those spells for years."

"Morbid curiosity," I said. Truthfully it was because tonight was The Night and I didn't think Snape had done a single thing I'd requested.

Zinnia silently studied me until she finally spoke.

"…Bombarda is a charm that causes a small explosion. They're rather loud, although you knew that." She was referring to the troll incident. "Reducto, on the other hand, is a curse, and requires a much greater skill level… By any chance, are you familiar with gunpowder? It's what fireworks are made out of."

I nodded.

"Think of Bombarda like setting off gunpowder, whereas Reducto is pure magical force. It's more powerful than Bombarda Maxima and should only be used in emergencies. Now, I ask again, why are you asking? And don't lie to me this time. As you said, I'm to be a healer. And as a future healer, I'm not about to let an eleven-year-old blow themselves up."

A glaring Zinnia Rookwood was a scary Zinna Rookwood. Before I could stop my self the truth flew from my lips.

"I'm going to defend an ancient and legendary artifact from being stolen by a dark wizard tonight and I wanted to up my arsenal of spells."

I really, really didn't want to have to go through the shitty obstacle course set up, but it looked like I had no other choice.

The sepia-skinned seventh-year froze for a moment before letting out a strangled chortle, "Merlin's balls, why do I believe you?"

I shrugged, "Because I'm telling the truth?"

"Have you told a professor?"

"I tried telling Snape last night, but he yelled at me and sent me to my room, of all things."

Zinnia sighed, "You know I can't let you leave the common room now, right?"

"Wha— why?!"

Was the entire world against me today?

"Because three reasons— number one, as the older student it's my responsibility to make sure you don't do anything stupid. Number two, as a future healer, it's my responsibility to make sure you don't do anything stupid. Number three—"

"Okay, I get it."

Zinnia leaned over and flicked my nose.

"Don't interrupt. You've only been here less than a year. You don't know Snape. If you told him everything and he sent you to your room, he's handling it. He's an arse, but he wouldn't let another dark wizard roam around the school."

I knew Snape a lot better than she did, but I couldn't say that.

"Another?"

Zinnia gave me a pointed look.

"Fair enough," I said. Snape's criminal record wasn't exactly sealed or anything.

"So what you're going to do tonight is spend some time with your cat while I'm studying next to you. Understood?"

"Clawdius is actually with Percy this weekend. We've got a split custody schedule. If he doesn't get at least one hour of Percy time a day, he starts crying."

"What is it with you Princes and hanging around those Weasleys," she shook her head before running her fingers through her loose coils. "Alright, I'm taking Snape's lead on this one. Go to your room, Prince."

"You can't order to do anything."

I was like, at least a year older than you, lady!

Zinnia stood up and grabbed me by the ear, "Watch me."

I was promptly thrown into my dorm room once more.

"Curse this life!" I grumbled to myself, thankful the other girls were out.

Going to Zinnia Rookwood had been yet another wrong move. She'd been so apathetic about everything that wasn't studying that I genuinely did not anticipate her reacting like that.

What was I doing wrong? Why were none of my plans working? Was the universe going against me for some reason? Was this some stations of canon bullshit and the Golden Trio really did know about the Philosopher's Stone and are going after it? What the hell was happening here?

Thinking about it rationally, I knew it wasn't that last one. I'd done my part in making sure they were in blissful ignorance. It could have been the universe, but wouldn't it have acted before? I had changed a lot, so it wouldn't make sense for some mystical universal force to start acting now. Also, why the hell would I be here if not to change anything? That would make my existence in this world superfluous. Why would the universe put someone there to just sit back and watch the events unfold as they had before? So it couldn't have been divine intervention.

There was another possibility, but given that it involved me being an idiot, I'm going to ignore that one.

Okay, clearly I needed to rethink my strategy. I've obviously been going about this all wrong.

I considered my options. I could stay in my room and let Snape handle it. Or I could Body-Bind Zinnia and go through the trials.

I really, really did not want to do either of those, but of the two I knew what had to be done.

As I made up my mind, the door opened to reveal Gemma Farley—one of the Slytherin prefects, of all people. She pushed up her oval glasses and glared at me.

"I don't know what you've done, but Professor Snape said to tell you that you've been summoned to Headmaster Dumbledore's office."

Well, I certainly didn't anticipate that happening.

If I had to describe Albus Dumbledore in the flesh, it would be Richard Harris was the perfect choice in look and kind demeanor, but with Michael Gambon's energy and slightly intimidating aura.

"Sherbet lemon?" He offered, the first words I'd heard him say since I sat down.

I blinked before I burst out in uncontrollable laughter. Here I was, in THE Albus Dumbledore's office, getting offered a fucking lemon drop. Oh my god, this was somehow the most surreal experience of this life. I couldn't explain it even if I tried. The main cast were my best friends, I'd done magic, killed a troll, watched several real-live quidditch games… and yet THIS was what broke me.

Dumbledore's grey brow raised in concern, "My dear girl, are you quite alright?"

Considering I was being held together by sheer spite, determination, and Calming Draught, no. Not in the slightest.

I cleared my throat and regained my composure, "Apologies, sir. Nervous reaction. A lemon drop sounds great, thank you."

I took one from the bowl and popped it in my mouth. I vaguely recalled all those bash-fics that claimed Dumbledore drugged the lemon drops, but pushed it from my mind. This was the world of canon (mostly.)

"So, er— why am I here, sir? Am I in trouble?"

I'd always hated how often people described his baby blues as "twinkling" but god damn it, those fuckers really did seem to shine like sunlight through a blue beryl gem.

"Miss Prince, quite the opposite. It would appear you've saved the school a third time."

I tilted my head in confusion, "Third time, sir?"

Dumbledore gave me a grandfatherly smile, "Hagrid's received several photographs of his dearest Norberta already."

My eyes nearly popped out of my head. He knew about that?!

The old wizard ignored my shock and continued, "Miss Prince, are you aware of who exactly it was Quirrell was working with to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"

I fiddled with my thumbs, "Er— a very powerful dark wizard who one of my best friends supposedly somehow vanquished as an infant?"

His expression took a grave turn, "Indeed. But, thanks to you, Miss Prince, Professor Snape," he gave me a slightly amused look when he said Snape's name, "and I were able to apprehend Quirrell in time."

Wow. The villain got dealt with off-screen.

How anti-climactic.

"And what about… The Dark Lord?" I asked. Please tell me his wraith form got trapped in a magic box or something. Please tell me his wraith form got trapped in a box or something. Please tell me—

He raised an eyebrow at how I referred to Voldy. I'd forgotten it was really only Death Eaters who referred to him as "The Dark Lord." Nevertheless, he went on.

"I'm afraid that Voldemort has escaped, draining Quirrell's life in doing so."

FUCKING DAMN IT!

I SHOULD HAVE DEALT WITH THIS MYSELF!

FUCK!

"All was not lost, however, thanks to your warning. The Stone is to be destroyed, so the likes of Voldemort may never get their hands on it."

"But sir, what about Nicolas Flamel and his wife?" I asked, trying not to show how much I really knew.

Dumbledore went on to explain how the Flamels were getting their affairs in order and were totally chill with dying after like six hundred years.

"…After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all — the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." He said what I was pretty sure was verbatim to what he said to Harry in the book.

Honestly, he kind of had a point. It could extend your life and give you all the gold in the world, but it couldn't bring back those already lost. To me, the Philosopher's Stone was worthless.

"Should I tell Harry that The Dark— I mean, Voldemort isn't as dead as he should be?" I asked.

Dumbledore's face softened ever so slightly with what appeared to be pride at my use of "Voldemort."

"I would prefer to handle that conversation with Harry myself, if you do not mind. In the meantime, I do believe a reward is in order."

My face went pink, "Oh, no, sir. I didn't do much of anything, really. And I certainly didn't plan on any reward."

"Nonsense, Miss Prince. You've done the school a great service and have done so in a responsible manner. You collected evidence and presented it to a trustworthy adult instead of running off to face Voldemort by yourself. For that, I award Slytherin fifty points."

There went my eyes again, "But—"

"And for looking after a dear friend of mine while securing the safety of the school, another ten points to Slytherin."

Wowza. All that for doing the bare minimum. I certainly wasn't going to complain.

"I— thank you, sir!"

The grandfatherly headmaster smiled at me once more before dismissing me.

I thanked him again before making my way to the courtyard, where I knew I'd find my friends.

I figured it was probably best to tell them (partially) everything before word got around that I'd come back from Dumble-bun's office with sixty points.

Damn, Hermione was going to kill me.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it had been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts… Now, as I understand it, the house cup needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two; in third, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six; Gryffindor has four hundred and sixty-two; and Slytherin, five-hundred and seventy-two. Congratulations, Slytherin!"

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table.

I grinned as Ron made a gesture to his brothers in Gryffindor that appeared to be the wizard equivalent of "suck it, bitches." This time around, Gryffindor hadn't lost those one hundred and fifty points, but I'd also gotten a hundred points for Slytherin. I knew the point system was only meant to foster good behavior and academic competition amongst students, but god damn: it felt good to be recognized. Next year, I'd ensure we won the Quidditch cup as well. I was going to make Ron train.

Ron ruffled my hair affectionately, "I s'pose I can forgive all the secrecy."

Harry and Hermione looked over to us in mock-sourness. I stuck my tongue out at them.

"Next year," Harry mouthed.

"Bet," I mouthed back.

Suddenly my ear began to sting, "Ow!" I turned around to see a smirking Zinnia.

"Told you it would all work out. Try to stay out of trouble after I'm gone, won't you?"

I smiled sheepishly, "No promises?"

The coily-haired girl gave the first genuine laugh I'd ever heard from her, "Not my problem anymore, I suppose. But if I ever find you as my patient in St. Mungo's, you're getting an earful."

The festivities continued before I remembered the thing I had in my pocket. I stood up abruptly and tapped a fork on the golden goblet several times, "Excuse me! May I have everyone's attention, please?"

It took a minute and a few more taps for everyone to get quiet. The teachers looked at me, confused. Snape narrowed his black eyes at me.

"Thank you, thank you. Now, you may know me as the girl who killed that troll or the girl who got that really annoying professor fired. You might even know me as Percy Weasley's future second wife. To which, what happened to his first wife, you may wonder. The answer is, not anything the Wizengamot can prove."

Percy buried his red face in his hand and some Ravenclaw yelled at me to get to the point.

"Right, well, I've got one more event for this year. Pay close attention, folks."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a drugged "Scabbers" and set him on the table. Ron, as well as the other Weasleys, looked alarmed.

"Aurelia, what are you…"

"And for my next trick…"

I pointed my wand at the unconscious rat.

"Homosemel Plus!"

Pettigrew, still asleep, morphed into a large man in tattered robes. Food landed all over him and many other students.

Gasps filled the entire hall, the teachers and Ron looking particularly horrified.

"Behold! Peter Pettigrew: alive!" I bowed.

What, you didn't think I'd forgotten about my vow, did you?

END OF YEAR ONE