A/N: In which there is spicy Slytherin gossip, Quidditch, and general impulsiveness.

"ʏᴇꜱ, ʜɪᴍ - Qᴜɪʀʀᴇʟʟ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ. ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʀᴜᴇ?"

"ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅɪᴅ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴜɴʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʀ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ. ᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴅɪᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱɴᴀᴘᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ. "

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ?"

"ʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴠᴇᴅ ʜɪꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ."

"ᴡʜᴀᴛ?"

"ʏᴇꜱ..." ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴅᴜᴍʙʟᴇᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪʟʏ. "ꜰᴜɴɴʏ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇꜱ' ᴍɪɴᴅꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ɪᴛ?"

Chapter Eighteen: A Deal with the Devil

Ruby sat in Dumbledore's office and thought to herself that at this rate, she was spending more time in professors' offices than her own common room.

When she had found out about the Philosopher's Stone, her first thought had been to go straight to Harry with this new information, but then, Ruby remembered that she hadn't apologized.

Aren't twins supposed to have spooky telepathy?

I wish.

Her second thought was to go to Dumbledore, but she didn't know if he would approve of her and Harry lurking around the abandoned corridors, and she didn't want to get in any more trouble than she already was.

So, instead, she tried to figure out the rest of the symbols, using the whole alchemy thing that Lavender had mentioned (though, of course, she didn't elaborate).

So far, she had come up with Mercury, Aquarius, fire, and an ouroboros.

Ruby didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but Professor Dumbledore must have figured it all out.

That and Anthony's drooling, growling, three-headed dog.

It made her head spin.

"Tea?" asked Professor Dumbledore. "Pumpkin juice?"

"Tea, please," said Ruby. She didn't like the taste of pumpkin juice. "Are you going to tell me more about your sister, sir?"

Dumbledore regarded her carefully.

Maybe I should ask him about the symbols.

"No, not today. I will tell you about my father." As if anticipating her next question, he added: "Who died in Azkaban."

Ruby didn't know how to respond, and nor did she know what Azkaban was. "I'm sorry, sir."

"It was a long time ago." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Azkaban is a wizard prison. Guarded by Dementors; dark creatures who feed on human souls."

"That sounds horrible." Suddenly, she did not want her tea anymore.

"It is," he agreed. "But Muggles have come up with equally sinister methods of torture."

"Like burning witches alive?"

"No, not quite what I had in mind," said Dumbledore. "There are more disturbing, refined forms of cruelty than physical pain. But that is not what we are here to discuss."

Ruby had noticed that Dumbledore was not one to mince words. So she tried her luck at directness.

"Did he kill them?" she asked, running her finger around the rim of the cup.

Dumbledore, to her relief, did not seem offended. "Nearly. They were within a hair's breadth of their lives when the Aurors stopped him. But he never told the Ministry why he did it."

"Why not?" asked Ruby. "They might have given him a shorter sentence."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I will tell you why later."

Why was he spoonfeeding her information? This was truly frustrating.

"So what are you going to tell me today, sir?"

"They believed my father was a blood purist, an odd stance to take, given that his own wife was a Muggle-born witch."

She looked up. "Appearances are deceiving, I guess."

"Precisely."

There was an acidic note in his voice.

"Were you angry with him?"

"I was."

"For not telling the Ministry what happened or for attacking the Muggle boys?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "The latter. I was ten years old and devastated. But I blame myself, too."

"What could you have done, sir?" asked Ruby.

"The things I regret came later. I discovered the spells he used. His academic writings on Dark magic, which he published under a different name; books which I discovered not only in our private collection but in the Hogwarts library as well. And I am sorry to say that for a time, I was completely seduced."

"Oh."

"I had the books removed," said Dumbledore. "But by the time that I had, they had well and truly done their damage."

What damage?

He paused.

"Do you understand?"

Ruby shrugged. "I'm not sure what the lesson is, sir, to be honest. Yeah, maybe your father shouldn't've attacked them, but they started it. They hurt your sister."

"That is a very dangerous way to think," said Dumbledore. "The world would be in a constant state of violence and chaos if everyone thought that way. He or she deserved it. Yes, it is normal to feel angry. But I believe there is a Muggle saying about stones and guilt?"

Ruby fidgeted in her chair. "So I suppose, if you go in for that, you shouldn't punish others. But the Ministry punished your father, didn't they? And you don't think they're wrong for that? Voldemort tried to kill my family, and I'm glad he's dead. Am I wrong for that?"

Dumbledore did not answer her question. "Do you regret what you did?"

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Ruby.

I was ten years old and devastated.

He gave her a sceptical look. She sighed.

"I feel... dirty." There was no other way to describe it. "I want it to go away."

"I do, too. But we cannot change what we have done. We can only strive to do better."

Ruby remembered something. "Do you know what my punishment is yet?"

"I will let you go, now, and send you another owl when we are to meet again," said Dumbledore, his gaze falling to the teacup. He smiled.

He didn't seem so scary anymore. But Ruby could not shake the lingering trepidation of punishment hanging over her head, no matter how innocuous their meeting seemed.

"I'm good at keeping secrets, sir," she blurted out. This was supposed to be private. She had to let him know that she was trustworthy... had to win his trust.

"I am aware." Dumbledore held a hand up to stop her as she turned to leave. "Have you spoken with Harry recently?"

Ruby bit down the guilt and stared back at him. "Not in a few weeks, sir."

"Ah," said Dumbledore. She stood there for a full minute, trying to figure out what the Ah meant. She could not.

"Good-bye, sir."

"Good-bye."

After leaving the Headmaster's office, she went to indulge in one of the few allowed unsupervised leisure activities during Mad-Eye Moody's Reign of Orderly Terror, chucking pumpkins off the top of the Astronomy Tower with about fifty other students, mostly Slytherins.

Not to say that it didn't annoy the Aurors to no end (some of them looked at the chaos rather wistfully), but the upper-year students were bored because they weren't able to go to Hogsmeade, and as such, tended to indulge the first- and second-years a bit more than usual.

Of course, when she got to the top of the tower, Alastair and Gemma, as well as the rest of the prefects, were nowhere to be seen. They didn't exactly disapprove, but they had to maintain plausible deniability.

"Geminio!" said a tall, redheaded sixth-year, pointing her wand at a small pumpkin, which immediately started copying itself ad infinitum.

"Do you think I can paint mine?" asked Lavender wistfully.

"Don't bother," said the sixth-year girl, leisurely tossing a pumpkin to a third-year. "Charmed objects don't tend to stick around long."

A cheer went up as an Engorgio'd pumpkin soared into the air, then hit the ground with a loud crack.

"They would if you were a better witch!" called a Ravenclaw boy from near the other end of the crowd.

"Shut up, Scamander!" shouted the girl. "Why didn't you do it, then, if you're so good?"

Scamander laughed and stuck his tongue out, and the girl responded instantly by flicking a V at him.

"Oi, you want to fight, do you, Prewett?"

Prewett shook her head and turned her back on Scamander. "Piss off, you know you couldn't take me."

Ruby coughed, turning the pumpkin over in her hands. "Why don't Charmed objects stick around long?"

"Well," said Prewett, pushing red wisps of hair out of her face. "Second of Waffling's Laws."

"Waffling's Laws?"

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Sounds boring."

"MAFALDA!" someone bellowed.

"Oh, God," said Prewett, aghast. She turned around with her hands on her hips. "Not you."

Everyone groaned. Percy Weasley was standing in the doorway, looking supercilious and irate. Lavender cupped her hand to her face, giggling for some bizarre reason, and some people turned towards them, frowning. Ruby couldn't tell what she found so funny.

"Unbelievable!" he spluttered, his face nearly as red as his hair. "Irresponsible, thoughtless — fifteen points from Slytherin!"

"Oh, yeah," said Mafalda acidly, crossing her arms. "Anything for the House Cup, but you'll need it, won't you, with that pathetic Quidditch team of yours—"

"Our Quidditch team is not pathetic!" snapped Percy. "Just because it's not full of brutes—"

"Oh, I'm a brute, am I?"

"I didn't mean that!" said Percy, his eyes bulging out of his head in barely suppressed rage.

"My perfect cousin — he sure is going to heaven!"

Ruby snorted, and some of the Muggle-born students did, too. Percy's face grew even redder; it looked like he was going to combust.

Lavender nudged her.

"It's a Muggle song," she explained. "Wait, Percy and um, Mafalda are cousins?"

"Ron's mentioned her a couple of times," said Lavender. "I don't think the Weasleys like her. She's Mrs. Weasley's Squib cousin's daughter. Her mum's a Squib, too."

"Because she's a Slytherin? They would really be that biased?"

"No," said Lavender, tittering. "Because she's insufferable!"

"Percy's insufferable."

Besides, Ruby supposed, one probably had to be insufferable to manage in Slytherin as a Muggle-born. She was only barely managing to keep her head above water (thanks mostly to Malfoy, Pansy, and occasionally Blaise). Pansy had only stopped calling her Squib after the candle incident. It was Pyromaniac Potter now.

"Yeah, and none of his siblings like him either," Lavender added. "Fred and George charmed his badge to say Pinhead instead of Prefect last week. He's so up his own arse that he didn't even notice everyone laughing at him. Professor McGonagall had to tell him."

Ruby snorted. "Okay, that's pretty good, actually. Pinhead Percy."

Lavender giggled softly. "Exactly. He's so mean!"

Suddenly, one of the Aurors stormed into the tower balcony, each step loud and furious. Lavender shrieked and backed into Ruby, nearly tripping them both over.

Mafalda groaned. "It's bloody Mad-Eye!"

Percy sneered. "That's Auror Moody to you, Mafalda." He turned to Mad-Eye. "I've got nothing to do with this, sir; I was trying to stop them."

"Good lad," said Mad-Eye.

"Grass," someone muttered.

"I miss Auror Tonks," said someone else.

Mad-Eye turned back to the students; Ruby trembled, and beside her, Lavender covered her ears and let out another shriek.

"ALL OF YOU LOT BACK TO YOUR COMMON ROOMS!" he bellowed, brandishing a finger. The electric-blue eye rolled around in his eye socket, making Moody look like a maddened animal. "STUDENTS! YOU HAVE NO SENSE OF SELF-PRESERVATION!"

Lavender pressed her hand hard against her mouth to muffle her laughter.

"I'm a Slytherin," Theodore Nott piped up, which caused most of the students to turn around in surprise; Ruby had noticed that outside of their common room, he rarely spoke if not spoken to first. "I have plenty of self-preservation. What House were you in, sir?"

Ruby laughed nervously, and everyone around her did the same.

Percy sneered in a way that reminded her shockingly of Snape. "None of your cheek, Nott! Five points from Slytherin."

Theodore's face fell as he stepped back into the crowd. He looked crumpled.

"Someone call Professor Snape!" someone shouted. "This isn't on, Weasley!"

"BACK TO YOUR COMMON ROOMS!" shouted Mad-Eye. "NOW! OR ELSE THERE'LL BE MORE TO WHINGE ABOUT THAN A COUPLE OF BLOODY HOUSE POINTS!"

The balcony filled with muttering, but all the same, they collectively began to shuffle towards the door and past Mad-Eye to the stairs.

Percy flicked a bit of dust off of his Prefect badge, and Ruby glared at him as she and Lavender went past.

But she caught Theodore's name in the muttering.

"... what a weirdo... and no wonder... you know what his father is... he was Imperiused, my arse! ... distasteful... we all know what happened to Mrs. Nott... why else would he want a closed coffin?"

"You've been in their basement?" another voice rang out. "Dead creepy down there."

"Hi, Lavender," said someone in a stiff voice. Ruby turned around — it was Daphne. "My mum told me to tell you to say hi."

"Umm, thanks," said Lavender, sighing. "Poor Theo."

Ruby couldn't help herself. "Why? What's everyone talking about?"

"It's the anniversary of his mum's death," said Daphne in a matter-of-fact tone. "But don't say anything to his face, Potter. That would be gauche. You've only known him two months."

"I know," said Ruby. She wasn't an idiot. "Thanks, Greengrass."

Daphne sniffed and went back to looking prim.

"But why are people gossiping about it?" asked Ruby. "It seems kind of... rude."

Daphne looked as if she had tasted something sour. "People," she said tightly, "say that Mr. Nott used to be a Death Eater. Of course not. It's ridiculous. He's a very nice man, and he loves Theo a lot. He's very kind when we go to visit and lets us play in the garden for hours. And Mrs. Nott died of dragon pox when Theo was eight. Mr. Nott did everything he could, but she couldn't be saved. It's terribly sad, and awful mean of people to spread nasty rumours."

Lavender giggled again, and Ruby had to admit that Daphne's impression of a telegraph was rather funny.

"Oh, come on," said Lavender in a low whisper. "No one dies of dragon pox anymore! My mum's a Healer, and she said—"

"Nothing, Lav," said Daphne. " Draco's grandfather died of it, too. It's rare, but it does happen. And come to think of it, Potter, your grandparents, died of it as well."

"Oh." Ruby hadn't expected them to be alive. But it was still a shock to find out that way, after all.

It was disappointing.

Daphne, seemingly unaware, continued.

"That's why you had to go to the Muggles, you know." She tossed her head.

Ruby lowered her voice. "The rumour is that Mr. Nott killed his wife, right? So you think Malfoy's grandfather and my grandparents were murdered as well?"

"No!" Daphne practically yelped. "Old age and dragon pox is a bad combination. They were just unlucky!"

Ruby thought about what Dumbledore had said about Uncle Vernon's death looking like a heart attack.

"Isn't there magic that can make a murder look... natural?"

Lavender paled, and Daphne drew herself up to her full height.

Can she get any further up herself?

"That's not appropriate to talk about."

But she didn't say it was impossible, Ruby thought.

Ruby cleared her throat.

"Poor Theo," she agreed. Daphne seemed placated.

"Quidditch today," said Goyle, as if they all hadn't noticed the seven boys and Mafalda Prewett in green and silver uniforms milling around the table. Draco Malfoy was watching them with an enraptured expression and telling anyone who would listen about how he was planning to try out for the team next year and how unfair it was that Potter's got a broom.

Across the Great Hall, there was a group of people in red-and-gold but otherwise identical uniforms, and Ruby saw Harry in the middle of them. She debated whether or not it was worth getting up to say good luck.

"Wow, really?" asked Blaise, clearly unable to help himself. "So observant."

Pansy snorted so hard that bits of porridge went flying out of her mouth, and Daphne shot a glare at her.

Crabbe blinked, but it didn't look as if he understood that he was being made fun of.

Someone cleared their throat, and Ruby looked up.

Alastair, who was wearing his Quidditch uniform, was standing behind Gemma, somewhat awkwardly.

"May I have a kiss?"

"What?" spluttered Gemma, and Ruby saw Hassan turn towards them.

Alastair sighed. "For good luck?"

"Oh, fine," said Gemma, blushing madly, and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

It was a cold November's day, and Ruby pulled her scarf up over her nose as they headed down to the Quidditch pitch.

Just a few shy snowflakes were falling in a tentative symphony; it was warm enough that they melted almost as soon as they touched anything material.

Ruby couldn't help but feel a strange, misplaced sense of trepidation.

"We flattened Gryffindor last year!" Blaise was saying as they went into the stands.

Pansy snorted. "Were you there, Blaise?"

"No. But everyone knows that."

"Shhhh," said someone behind them, just as the commentator began to speak.

"Hello, and welcome to Hogwarts' first Quidditch game of the season! Today's game; Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"

The cheering as the players swooped onto the pitch was so loud that Ruby had to cover her ears.

"Chasers are the best to watch," explained Blaise as the players arranged themselves into a circle twenty feet from the ground; clearly, his love for Quidditch had overcome his usual haughtiness. "They're the most agile, except the Seekers. Once the Golden Snitch is spotted, you've got to watch them. Beaters just fly around trying to knock the other players off their brooms, and Keepers spend all their time by the hoops."

Just as he finished his explanation, the commentator interrupted him.

"The Bludgers are up, followed by the Golden Snitch—" A ball the size of a small bird whizzed into the air and seemingly disappeared. Ruby wondered how the players were supposed to see such a tiny thing from across the pitch. "Remember, the Snitch is worth 150 points. The Seeker who catches the Snitch ends the game."

"The Quaffle," said Blaise breathlessly, as Madam Hooch bent down to retrieve a football-sized and shaped ball. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as it hurtled into the sky.

"The Quaffle is released, and the game begins!"

Instantly, red-and-gold and green-and-silver blurs closed in, too fast for Ruby to possibly keep track of.

Something green-and-silver streaked by, and the Quaffle slammed into the centre hoop on the Gryffindor end of the field, and a roaring cheer went up all around them.

"That's Alastair!" said Blaise. "He's scored the first points of the season!"

But Slytherin did not score any more points.

"That's a Double Eight-loop," said Blaise with what sounded like grudging respect, as the Gryffindor Keeper did some kind of complicated manoeuvre, sending the Quaffle flying back at the Chaser who had tossed it towards the hoops.

The Chaser, and captain of the Slytherin team, who Blaise pointed out as Marcus Flint, was beginning to look rather red in the face.

"— Quaffle taken by the Slytherins — that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger — sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which — nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes — she's really flying — dodges a speeding Bludger — the goal posts are ahead — come on, now, Angelina — Keeper Bletchley dives — misses —"

The Slytherin Keeper fumbled with the Quaffle, and everyone in the Slytherin stands booed.

"— GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Flint had snatched the bat out of the nearby Beater's hands, who hung back, looking confused. In one sudden moment, as if he had been waiting for it all along, he wound up and sent one of the heavy-looking, iron balls — a Bludger — spinning towards the Gryffindor Keeper.

"Is that legal?" asked Ruby, as the Gryffindor Keeper tumbled to the ground and the other side of the stands filled with boos. "That's not legal, is it?"

"Oh, who cares?" asked Blaise. "As long as we win."

"Besides, it's actually legal," said Pansy. "There are only twelve fouls in Quidditch, and that's not one of them."

"Shhh," said Theodore. "I can't hear."

"—Mafalda Prewett in possession of the Quaffle — clear shot to the goal, Keeper Wood still injured — that's another ten points to Slytherin." The commentator sounded decidedly mournful.

There was a loud swoop above them, and someone was hurtling towards the middle of the field. Harry.

"Potter's spotted the Snitch," said Malfoy, sneering as the two blurs sped towards the tiny gold glint.

But just as the Slytherin Seeker streaked past him, Harry — or his broom — started doing something strange.

At one point, he nearly fell off headfirst, and Ruby's heart leapt into her throat.

"What's going on with Potter's broom?" asked Draco, laughing as she watched with horror. "He can't even hang on it!"

"Hey, give me those," said Ruby, snatching the binoculars from him. It was just as she feared.

It wasn't the broom. It was Harry. His hands were nearly all shadow — no wonder he couldn't hang on — but why? And how would they get it to stop?

Ignoring Malfoy's whingeing, she turned the binoculars towards the professors' box to see if any of them had noticed.

They had. Professor Dumbledore was for some reason missing, and Professor McGonagall looked horrified, but Professor Snape was harder to read. He was looking intently at Harry and whispering something under his breath.

She nudged Blaise, handing the binoculars to him.

"What's Professor Snape doing? Is he trying to help?"

Blaise, shockingly, did not have a snide comment to offer.

"No," he said after a few seconds. "I think he's jinxing the broom."

"What?"

Heedless of the calls to stay back, Ruby pushed through the crowd and hurried down the stairs leading to the platform between the stands, running headfirst into—

"Hermione?" she asked breathlessly, helping the other girl up. "Did you see Snape? What's he—"

"Yes," said Hermione, rubbing her elbow. Her face was flushed, and there was a steely, very Mad-Eye-Moody-like glint in her eyes. "We've got no time to lose! Come on!"

And with that, Hermione grabbed her hand and led her up to the space behind the professors' box.

"All right," she whispered, taking out her wand as they crouched behind the curtains. "There's Snape."

"No!" said Ruby. "Wait, we don't know if it's him doing yet! What if he's trying to help—"

But Hermione had already cast the spell, and Snape's robes had caught on fire, sending the entire box into a panic.

Ruby squinted through the flap in the curtains.

"Look! Harry still can't hold onto his broom! We've got to help him!"

The broom gave a horrible lurch, and he was left dangling from what must have been his only corporeal arm. His eyes were glassy and empty.

Hermione was muttering, "Just trying to think, must think, there must be a way out of this..."

Any moment now, and he'll fall out of the sky to his death.

Ruby felt sick. She was going to cough up her intestines.

One of the Weasley twins — she couldn't tell which one — reached for Harry's dangling hand and pulled away, confused. His hand must have gone straight through it.

Must think, must think.

Hermione was right. She couldn't lose her head. They had to think of a way out of this. They had to save him.

The Weasley twins were circling around Harry, trying to grab ahold of him before his grip gave out.

The last two times Harry had had an issue with his shadows, there had been a fire.

The fire in the box was gone.

What if it was bigger?

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione, horrified, as Ruby grabbed onto the railings and pulled herself into the professors' box.

Ignoring the cacophony of reprimands, she pointed her wand at the fabric covering the box, hoped that it would react as severely as it had in Flitwick's class, and said: "Incendio!"

It did. There was an awful rushing sound, the crackling of flame, and screaming all around her. Professor Snape shoved her back, but before he could draw his wand, the fire had gone out.

She watched with bated breath as Harry shook his head, his eyes returning to normal, and pulled himself back onto the broom to safety. Ruby gasped with shuddery, cold relief.

Cheers went up around her, but she barely heard them. Snape seized her arm.

"What foolish nonsense was that, Potter?" he snapped. "I was handling the situation."

"Well, you didn't do a very good job, Professor!" she said hotly, knowing she was getting herself into either fifty points taken away, detention, or even both.

But Snape's face had gone from angry to suspicious.

"I expect you have a reason for trying to kill the entirety of the teaching staff?" he asked, gripping her arm even more tightly.

Ruby tried to twist out of his grip and frowned.

"I wasn't!" she said. "I was just trying to help Harry!"

Snape let go of her and sneered.

"You will explain in my office. Five o'clock. Do not be late."

"Yes, Professor Snape," she said sullenly and traipsed back down the stairs to Hermione.

"What did you do?" asked Hermione. Her eyes were wide with fear.

"Well," said Ruby, not quite sure herself; she felt sick and shaky. "It worked, didn't it?"

Besides, setting the entire box on fire wasn't that different from setting Snape on fire.

Another groan went up.

"Oh, what now?" asked Hermione, peering through the slits in the fabric. She turned back to Ruby.

"Don't worry, he's fine — or at least not in mortal peril."

Hermione made a face as they stepped out onto the platform. "I think he's going to be sick."

Harry struggled to keep ahold of the broom as he floated towards the ground; his fingers seemed to be phasing in and out of corporeality.

Both Ruby and Hermione watched, frozen, as Harry gripped his stomach with his hands, shuddering.

Suddenly, he leaned forward as if to finally vomit but, beyond bizarrely, coughed up the golden ball in the same way that Hephaestus would cough up a particularly large hairball.

"Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins, one-seventy to sixty!"

"Is that all they care about?" she snapped, and before Hermione could tell her to stop, she raced onto the pitch.

It was the closest she and Harry had been in weeks. His eyes widened as she approached, and he stepped away slightly.

"I'm so happy you're okay," she stammered, her nose itching from the tears threatening to fall and her stomach doing flip-flops, "and I'm really, really sorry for being mean to you, Harry. I shouldn't have said any of those things just because I was angry. And I should have apologised to you before."

They stood there awkwardly on the Quidditch pitch for a second. Harry looked dazed, either from being nearly thrown off of his broom, having just vomited up the Snitch, Ruby's confession, or all three.

Her bottom lip trembled so hard that she had to bite it.

"Please forgive me."

Please don't walk away. Please.

Harry sighed.

"Come here and stop being stupid," he mumbled, holding his arms out and letting his broom fall to the side, and without a second thought, she launched herself forward.

"I'm sorry, too. No more stupid arguments," said Harry, hugging her tightly. "Right?"

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. "I was really scared."

"I was scared, too," he said.

"You know... if you think Quirrell can really help... that from happening again, maybe you should go speak to him. Just... be careful."

Harry snorted. "When am I not careful?"

Then, under his breath, he said: "I don't want to scare you... but I think I might be an Obscurial. I don't think I am. But I might be."

"An Obscurial?" asked Ruby. "What's that?"

But she could already tell from his tone and his grim expression that it was nothing good. Harry shook his head.

"I'll tell you after I talk to Quirrell, okay? Don't tell anyone."

She swallowed and glanced up at the teacher's box. Quirrell, looking unusually serene, waved at them.

"We're good, right?"

"Yeah. We're good."

Ruby grinned. "Uh... good job on catching the Golden Snidget," she said, pointing at the tiny ball in Harry's hand.

He rolled his eyes. "Golden Snitch."

They both glanced over to where an irate-looking Flint was berating Madam Hooch. Wood's face had gone as red as his uniform.

"He didn't catch the Snitch," said Flint indignantly. "He swallowed it!"

Madam Hooch glared. "Mr. Potter's catch, although unconventional, was perfectly legal, Mr. Flint. I suggest you consult note six-point-three-point-four in the handbook, under Chapter Eight of—"

"Well, they'll be at that for a while," said Harry, "I'm going to get a shower. D'you want to meet after in the library?"

"Let's," she said. Then her stomach turned. Ruby glanced at him with a sheepish expression and groaned. "I'm in trouble with Snape."

"What happened?" asked Harry. "I was kind of... out of it."

"I set the professors' box on fire. On purpose."

Harry blinked.

"Er... you did what?"

She threw her hands up. "Well, the other two times it happened, there was a fire, so I thought... yeah, in hindsight, it was kind of stupid. But it worked."

"Kind of stupid," said Harry. He turned his head and laughed. "Where would I be without you doing kind of stupid things?"

"Here it is," she said, putting the book Lavender had been looking at on the table and flipping to the page it had been on earlier. "The Philosopher's Stone, Harry. That symbol. The freshest one."

Harry gave her a strange look and then pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket.

Shakily, he unfolded it and laid it on the table next to the book.

Ruby's drawn rune in pencil, shaky and unconfident, rested beside the same rune in ink.

"The Philosopher's Stone... Parvati told me."

Harry frowned. "That's the thing that makes you immortal... isn't it?"

He looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I went back to find the mirror, but the door was gone. Not just locked."

"And the room..."

Ruby tried to imagine what a room full of Dark magic would look like. Would it be choked with dark shadows? Trapped in a web of blood?

Or maybe, it was invisible.

"So, the imposter," said Harry. "Voldemort's servant... you think they're looking for the Philosopher's Stone? They must have tried to have a go at it, and that's what Dumbledore found. But why, nothing could bring him back if Voldemort's dead—"

Their eyes met, and a sudden understanding passed between them.

There's not enough human in him left to die, Hagrid had said. I reckon he's still out there.

But perhaps, not too tired to go on.

"Voldemort's servant is here," said Ruby. "And they're looking for the Stone, to bring Voldemort back — or make him immortal—"

"We've got to tell someone!" said Harry.

"Who? Dumbledore and the professors must know already."

"Then we've got to find out who the imposter is, before—"

Harry stopped short of finishing his sentence, and they both looked around the library, filled with clumps of students sitting around tables and studying, just like them.

The still air of the room had gone from warm and comforting to stifling and ominous. The light that danced amongst the chandeliers was sharp and deceitful.

It leapt from flickering candle to worn-down wooden table to distant, laughing face, making glossy book covers shimmer. It was not a revealing light but an obscuring one. It did nothing to spell out anyone's true nature.

Anyone could be an enemy... anyone at all.

A cold shiver ran down Ruby's spine. Until now, she hadn't appreciated why Dumbledore and the Aurors were being so paranoid.

If one of Voldemort's servants was masquerading as a student — or worse, a professor — would they try to hurt Harry — try to hurt her?

"We'd better get going," said Harry, breaking the treacherous silence. "Snape'll kill you if you're late."

She nodded and gathered her things.

"You'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine."

That feeling of trepidation before the match was still there; in fact, it was worse. Heavier.

But this wasn't time to chase after mirages of feelings; she had detention with Professor Snape.

Thankfully, she had managed to arrive on time. When Ruby attempted to knock on the door, it swung open instead. She stepped inside.

His office was a small, dimly lit room.

A bit dingy, actually. And it smelled ever-so-slightly of mildew.

The green wallpaper was peeling away from the stone walls, probably due to the moisture in the dungeons. The walls themselves were lined with jars of strange-looking dead things.

One of the largest jars was filled with an amber liquid, and at the bottom rested an enormous dead viper, its mouth opened to reveal two wicked-looking fangs.

An ominous, not-quite-dead clump of eyes in a tall beaker blinked at her in unison. Ruby shuddered.

It was cold, and only a handful of flames licked at the logs in the fireplace.

"Tea," said Professor Snape firmly. Ruby started in surprise; she hadn't noticed him sitting at the desk.

"No, thank you, sir."

"Tea," he said yet more firmly and pushed the cup over towards her, glaring until she took a sip.

She pulled a face. It was not what she had been expecting.

"It's really sweet," said Ruby, without meaning to.

Snape was rummaging in his desk.

"Yes," he said shortly. "Licorice. My own blend."

"Oh. I suppose you want me to explain what happened, Professor?"

"Yes," he said. "Well?"

The answer was bubbling up before she could help it.

"I thought it would help Harry," she said lamely. "And it did."

Snape stared at her for a long time. It felt like he was rummaging around in her head.

Can wizards do that?

"Hmph," said Snape. "That will do."

Then, he extricated a sheet of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill from his desk.

"You will write, I must not make rash decisions that endanger others, no matter how well-intentioned."

Ruby did not manage to stifle her groan.

"Front and back. Three sheets."

"But I'll be here after curfew, sir!"

"Then I suggest you begin now and cease your whining."

Snape put his own work on the desk; it looked like a stack of essays from upper-year classes.

He paused before he put his quill to the paper, and so did she.

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Professor. Really. I didn't."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"How do you know that, sir?" asked Ruby. She'd always assumed Snape was pure-blood. "That's a Muggle expression."

"Never mind," he said tightly, waving a hand to shut her up.

She sighed. Professor Snape was right. This was never going to get done if she didn't start now.

Ruby put her quill to the parchment, and a black splotch of ink bloomed under the tip.

Meanwhile, in the upper levels of the castle, the sun had gone in, and shadows were falling across the hallways. In Harry's imagination, they twisted into sea monsters and dragons of leviathan proportions.

Harry cleared his throat, ignored the creeping dread, tucked Shadows and Spirits firmly under his arm, and knocked on the door of Quirrell's office.

"Sir," he said as it swung open. "I'd like to learn about Obscurials."

A/N: Mafalda Prewett is not, in fact, a (complete) OC. She's based off a discarded canon character, who was going to be three years younger than the Trio and the daughter of Molly's accountant cousin; clever, nosy, unpleasant, and a bit of a show-off. Her role in the plot would have been to eavesdrop on conversations held between the children of Death Eaters in her house, then repeat all the spicy gossip to The Trio in an attempt to impress them.

Since Ruby, by accident, somewhat fulfills that device of providing information from Slytherin House on occasion, I decided to make Mafalda significantly older than the Trio, to serve a different purpose. We'll see more of her later. No spoilers ;)

There have been several Easter eggs in hidden the chapters so far; this week, I invite you to consider what Percival Dumbledore's pen name might be (or, at least, what book he wrote — the title has been mentioned already somewhere in these eighteen chapters).

Just remember, the two storylines are not disjoint ;)