"Mum's raving mad." Ron plopped down beside Harry at breakfast with an excited glint in his eyes. "Fred and George said that she said the new Potions professor is a Death Eater!"

"A what?" Asked Harry and Hermione in unison.

"A follower of," he lowered his voice, "You-Know-Who."

Ron placed a letter between them. It was clearly written by someone with extreme anger, with splashes of ink and underlined, all-capital words for emphasis. Death Eater was one of them.

"I guess Percy wrote about classes and she wrote this back. Fred and George stole it, and let me read it too. I'm surprised she didn't send a howler."

"A what?" Said his two friends again. Ron waved them off.

"Nevermind. What do you think about that, though? He doesn't seem like the type, does he?"

Harry felt like the eggs he had eaten had been transfigured into lead in his stomach. "What do you mean, a follower of Vol— of You-Know-Who?"

"Well," Ron began, looking suddenly uncomfortable. Some things that were just part of everyday life were so new to Harry, and it surprised him all the time. And, truthfully, at eleven he didn't know much about the war. "Like, they worked for him. Loads of them are in jail."

"Then why wouldn't Professor Sage be?" Hermione countered, suspiciously. "And nobody else seems to be worried about him. Are you sure your mum isn't mistaken?"

"She's not!" Ron snapped.

"Then, did Dumbledore hire him on purpose?"

"No," Ron muttered, refusing not to defend his hero.

Harry felt sick. He did not want to believe that Dumbledore would hire someone dangerous to work at Hogwarts, which was already plenty dangerous on its own. After all, it had a giant three-headed dog guarding something secretive in the third floor corridor! Professor Sage did not seem like somebody evil, although Harry supposed he had never met anybody evil before. And some people were good at pretending to be good, like his aunt and uncle when they were forced to be in public with him.

"Why does your mum think he worked for You-Know-Who?" asked Harry, keeping his voice low so that other students wouldn't overhear. Ron scanned the letter.

"She said 'everyone' knows his trial was a sham," he paraphrased, "I don't know how she recognizes the name."

"Can you write back to ask?" Harry urged. Ron nodded.

"I can add a letter in with the one Percy sends every month."

"Thank you. I really don't think Dumbledore would hire Professor Sage if—"

"Good morning, Mister Potter."

The trio jumped at the sound of the Potions Master behind them. Ron covered the letter with his hands a bit too late. It would be a miracle if Sage did not see the giant bold-faced Death Eater on the page. But, his expression did not change at all.

"I wanted to wish you luck in your first Quidditch match. I'm sure it will be most exciting."

There was nothing that could stop Minerva McGonagall from watching the first Quidditch match of the school year, especially when that match would include Harry Potter's debut as Seeker. Albus knew this and he was nervous to break the news that he would be unable to keep an eye on Severus that day, as he had his own matters to attend to.

To his surprise, Minerva informed him that she fully intended to bring the boy with her to the game.

"I know that our friend grew to appreciate Quidditch as a professor," Albus said as Minerva helped Severus tie his shoes, "but do you think he always had interest in it?"

"He loved Quidditch," said Minerva immediately.

"Did he?" asked Dumbledore in a tone that implied the truth was contrary.

For the first time ever, Minerva wondered if Severus Snape liked Quidditch. He must have, she told herself, because he was so enthusiastic about their house rivalry. All bets were off when Gryffindor and Slytherin were playing each other, all decorum thrown out the window between them. And surely that was because of his love for the sport.

She could not recall if Snape attended a game as a student, but she had never paid much attention to him at that age. As a professor, he had not attended every Quidditch match until his second year, but that was surely because of how awkward he felt as a young, new professor. He always showed up for Slytherin, and she could not recall a time in the last five years that he missed any games at all. He was strangely silent during non-rivalry games, but...

Well, he must have enjoyed it. Why else would he have engaged with her like that?

Her confusion was clear as day on her face and Dumbledore, very kindly, said; "Then again, he was very proud of his team. It's never too early to stoke the fires."

"They had very cute Quidditch toys for children at the shop," she admitted. She had purchased Harry Potter a broom and immediately got carried away with additional purchases. "Nobody will believe a relative of mine has no interest in Quidditch. And he looked at a book about it earlier, isn't that right?"

Severus had not been overly impressed with Quidditch Through the Ages. Minerva hoped it was only because he had not seen the sport itself yet; clearly, his mother had never mentioned it. In truth, it was because his father always got very upset about his soccer team losing and, as a result, Severus had not been particularly keen on learning more about sports. He did not want to think about what would happen if whatever team McGonagall supported lost.

"He's never been to a sporting match before, can you believe it?" Minerva went on, "Honestly, what do Muggles do for fun?"

"Football, I think," replied Dumbledore. Minerva scoffed.

"Well, there you have it. What a boring sport."

"Da likes football," said Severus, very quietly. It seemed important to defend him, even if Minerva did not sound impressed. Minerva, who had developed a low opinion on Tobias Snape through limited conversation with the boy, pursed her lips.

"I'm sure," she said,

"He yells," Severus began, but stopped himself from adding at the radio. Because what if she also yelled at the radio? He had never seen a radio at Hogwarts, but Da also kept the radio hidden away unless he wanted to listen to it.

It did not occur to him that leaving the rest of his thought to himself did not make what he said any less worrisome. Minerva and Albus exchanged glances.

"You needn't worry. The only yelling will be cheering for the winning team."

"Which will be Gryffindor," Minerva added.

Dressed in a warm sweater with his face wrapped almost entirely in a bright red Gryffindor scarf, Severus was both ready for the cold and mostly obscured from view. Even if students noticed a child in the teacher's stand, he wouldn't be recognizable from so far away. And it wasn't as though guests were banned from watching the games; families of students and locals from Hogsmeade sometimes attended games and sat in their own dedicated visitors stand. The only student to notice him was Lee Jordan, who Minerva sat next to and silenced with one sharp look. Lee shrugged, not really all that interested, and began his commentary.

Severus was not really interested in the game, although he did think the flying broomsticks were cool. There was too much happening and the sound the giant flying balls made when they hit the paddles made him jump. And there was yelling. It wasn't angry yelling, usually, but rather a chorus of hundreds of people cheering when their preferred team scored.

He was interested in Lee Jordan, who was a Big Kid. Maybe even a Teenager. He kept trying to get the student to look at him, but he wasn't sure what else to do other than stare very intensely. But Lee was focused on the field and talking about how pretty Angelina Johnson was, even if she wouldn't go out with him. McGonagall repeatedly asked him to stay on track. Severus thought, perhaps, that the student was scared of Minerva even though she had not done anything particularly scary to Severus before.

Dejected, he started unraveling the end of his scarf when his entire section got to their feet in a panic.

Harry Potter's broom was moving erratically, as if it was trying to buck him off. Minerva put her hand to her mouth to stifle any sort of horrified sounds she might make. Oliver Wood had assured her that Harry was fully prepared for the game, that he had easily mastered the broom as if it was second nature. But he was clearly struggling. For a terrifying moment, he sped towards the ground, completely upside-down, until Harry managed to right himself again. Then, the broom took him up, up, up far above the pitch to try again.

"What?" He asked worriedly, pulling on Minerva's robes. "What is it?"

But the witch didn't hear him. Her focus was on Harry, hovering dangerously high in the air and struggling to stay on the broom she had bought him. He looked impossibly small. She, and everyone around her, had a sudden shift into palatable nervousness. Severus squirmed in his seat and tugged on her robes again, to no avail.

Quirrell, however, was acting perfectly calm. His gaze was fixed on Harry but he did not look worried at all. He looked focused, determined.

That was someone who knew what was going on. Severus climbed into the man's row of seats and nervously asked;

"What is it?"

Quirrell didn't answer. He was staring straight ahead, and Severus recalled how his mother would sometimes stare at one thing for a long time in the mornings until he could get her to look at him. Luckily, he knew the cure; Severus crawled right into the man's lap.

And that did get his attention.

"What…" Instinctively he glanced down at the boy, looking absolutely baffled. In that momentary lapse in eye contact, Harry regained control of his broom. Quirrell cursed under his breath and tried to find Potter on the field again.

"What is it?" Severus asked again. "Excuse me. Excuse me!"

"Thank goodness." Minerva put a hand to her heart and, then suddenly remembering that Severus had been trying to get her attention, she turned back to the stands. Only to see Severus one row up, sitting in an uncomfortable Quirrell's lap. "Oh! Quirinus, I'm so sorry. Sev, please get off of him."

"It's fine," said the man tensely. The moment was gone and, more importantly, half of the professors had turned to look at him with barely-concealed giggles. His face was hot with anger and frustration that probably looked quite like embarrassment. Minerva had moved right into his line of sight to try and collect Severus from him, and he not-so-subtly tried to peer around her.

"He talks like Da," Severus informed her cryptically as he slid back onto his feet.

"That doesn't mean you can sit in his lap," Minerva reprimanded gently, keeping her voice low.

"I-it's fine," Quirrell smiled awkwardly at her, clearly uncomfortable.

"Potter's caught the golden snitch!" Lee Jordan was practically leaning out of the box as he shouted, and half the crowd erupted in applause. Severus immediately covered his ears.

"What!" Minerva spun around, scanning the field. "I missed it!"

Gryffindor had not won against Slytherin in years. Students and professors alike were pouring out of the stands to congratulate the team, or (in the case of the Slytherins) storm moodily back to the castle in disappointment. In her excitement, and the excitement of the other professors, Minerva momentarily forgot about Quirrell and Severus. She had quite nearly left the stands to congratulate the team when she stopped, sighed, and resigned herself to not being able to congratulate her team. Suddenly feeling very embarrassed, she tried to look as though she wasn't about to race onto the Quidditch field.

"I-I don't mind staying here," the man stuttered, as her disappointment was palpable. "I can watch him."

"You don't have to," the witch said, although she really wanted him to. "He's my responsibility, and he bothered you…"

"Children just like me," he stammered, which was a lie. Most students, even before this year, had teased the man. "I was hoping to br-bring it up before but I have a free period every afternoon during your sixth year class and..." Here, he had to pause to collect himself before continuing, "you may drop him off in my classroom."

Minerva looked so genuinely relieved that Quirrell felt a bit bad, as he was not doing it for her benefit at all.

"That would be wonderful. And I know Sev will enjoy it, won't you?"

Severus said nothing.

"Yes, we...we got along so well the other night, in fact."

Severus still said nothing, but he did give Quirrell a curious look.

"I'll be back soon," Minerva smiled, having easily been convinced. "Ten minutes, no more!"

She, and most of the stands, filed out. This left Severus and Quirrell alone in their row.

"I like your hat."

"It's a turban."

That was the end of the conversation. Quirrell was twitchy, clearly nervous. He wanted very badly to ask Severus if he had noticed or heard anything odd, and if so to beg him not to repeat if, but wasn't sure how to bring it up without drawing more attention to himself.

Because Eldridge Sage also stayed behind. Quirrell made the very grown-up choice to simply look anywhere but at the man, in the hopes to avoid a conversation.

This technique did not work.

"What an interesting game," Sage said casually. "I'm surprised they let a First Year play. So many horrible accidents can happen in Quidditch."

"Yes," agreed the other man quickly, his heart racing, "many accidents."

"Two years ago, at a Yorkshire game," Sage continued, his voice like honey and his eyes dark with excitement, "I saw Venus Willows get hit directly with a bludger. It knocked her head clear back. I didn't know the body could do that, did you?"

Venus Willow had very famously died in that game, though nobody was sure if it was the bludger to the head of the subsequent fall that did her in. Quirrell shifted nervously, unsure where the conversation was headed. Was he accusing him of something? Quirrell was certain that nobody had noticed him hexing the broom. He had been so careful…

Severus, who was very adept at noticing when an adult was scared, started to squirm.

"That would have been a terrible sight for a little one to see," added Sage smoothly as he turned his attention to the kid. "I'm so glad to see you safely avoided that troll. And I am sorry, Quirinus, for my behavior that night."

This was such an unexpected statement that Quirrell choked on his own breath. Sage had ruminated on Quirrell's popularity since Halloween. The term popularity was generous; Quirrell was not well liked by students but none of his colleagues had anything negative to say about him. They had all declined to comment on his actual ability to teach his subject, but even that didn't seem like a concern. And Sage so desperately wanted to reach that kind of social status with the staff. Thus far, he had been treated very politely but there was an obvious comparison between him and Severus Snape. Snape had, apparently, been very talented and sorely missed in a way that every other professor (and Sage had quickly realized they went through at least one a year) was not. Sage did not like being compared to others, even though he did not plan to stay at the school for long.

Sage had quickly discovered that he did not enjoy teaching or children. Worse yet, he did not actually know how to correct that behavior. Kids were just stupid, in his opinion, and he had somehow forgotten this fact before agreeing to teach. Dumbledore had not mentioned his abilities or lack of, but his conversations with the Headmaster were few and far between.

Hogwarts was a place where having money and connections to other pureblood families meant absolutely nothing. It was a foreign world to him, as was the constant need to play nice. But play he would. Sage had decided, in the week since Halloween, that befriending someone like Quirrell would make him seem like a nice guy without him having to put in much effort.

"I-it's quite alright." Quirrell wasn't sure what Sage was getting at, as he didn't seem to be speaking genuinely. Worse, he didn't seem inclined to leave. Voldemort was not helpful. He was seething over the fact that Harry had not plummeted to his death. Voldemort's list of children he hated on a personal level was not long; Harry was at the top of it, of course, but McGonagall's nephew had found himself in the number two spot.

Unfortunately for Sage's plans of friendship, he had a rather intimidating aire about him that Quirrell would not have been comfortable with in the best of times, and certainly not with Voldemort worming his way into Quirrell very being. The energy around them was tense and Severus looked at Quirrell, who was beginning to remind him of his mother the way he seemed to shrink under the man's gaze.

"I have to potty," Severus announced very loudly. This was clearly not what neither Sage nor Quirrell expected to hear, because they both gaped at him, unsure how to respond. Neither were particularly great with small children. But, Quirrell recovered first.

"W-we should go," he gulped, standing quickly and grabbing Severus's hand. Severus flinched and tried to pull away, but Quirrell held fast as he raced from the stands. "G-goodbye, Eldridge."

Having been whisked off the field and into Hagrid's hut, Harry was left shaken by the broom incident and the subsequent explanation by Hagrid that it simply had to be the work of a dark wizard. As far as the children were concerned, all signs pointed to the only known dark wizard at the school.

"Professor Sage did say something weird about the match this morning, didn't he?" Ron pointed out. Hermione nodded quickly.

"And he had seen the letter."

"What letter?" asked Hagrid, eager to be part of the childhood drama.

"Mum wrote a letter that Professor Sage followed You-Know-Who," Ron explained. Hagrid visibly tensed. "That makes him a dark wizard, doesn't it?"

"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't hire someone like that," he argued. "Especially not with a little one around and the—" The man froze as his own words caught up to him. "Nevermind that. The fact is, Professor Dumbledore hires good people here at Hogwarts."

"But do you think it's weird? That Professor Sage applied here at the same time there's something hidden at Hogwarts?" Asked Harry, hoping Hagrid would take the bait.

He did.

"There's nothing hidden at Hogwarts! Nothing to go concerning yourselves over."

"What about the thing you took from Gringotts over the summer?"

"That's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

"He's not even that interested in teaching! He never wants to answer my questions." Said Hermione as they trudged back to the castle. Hagrid had done nothing to dissuade them that someone on the staff was up to no good; in fact, they were more convinced that something suspicious was happening in the castle than ever before.

Ron wanted to say that nobody enjoyed answering Hermione's questions, but instead he said; "Lucky there was an open position at Hogwarts, too."

"Say, do you think that's part of it as well?" Hermione asked suddenly. When the boys returned blank looks, she said: "The last professor died, didn't he? Right before something was hidden here. That's very convenient."

"What, you think he killed the last guy?" Ron asked dubiously. Hermione flushed.

"No, but I…"

"It is weird," Harry interrupted thoughtfully. "There can't be that many open positions. Everyone here is really old."

When you are eleven, even people in their thirties or forties seemed old; he didn't even want to think about how old McGonagall or Hagrid were.

"Or dead," Ron added, thinking of Professor Binns.

"Right. Too bad all professors don't just turn into ghosts."

"Maybe it's just a coincidence," said Hermione, trying to be the voice of reason on both sides of the argument to avoid being wrong.

"Maybe," Harry conceded, "but you saw how Hagrid acted about whatever is hidden in Hogwarts. It must be something really important. Who knows who might want to find it."

A/N: I hope you're all enjoying Voldemort's failed plans. That guy just cannot catch a break. Personally, I think he should stop trying to win against children.

I have been re-reading the first book as I write this, and I'm so amused by how immediately suspicious the trio is of Snape in the original text! Of course, Sage is here to divert their attention now...and he doesn't even have a good excuse like Snape did for being suspicious! He's just weird.

In the next chapter, Harry starts to snoop around!