Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deep in the Scottish countryside, lay a large castle invisible to the outside world.  Deep within that castle, in an office guarded by a gargoyle, a Hat was brooding.

The Hat was unhappy for many reasons.  No one ever appreciated its songs. No one talked to him for most of the year.  Most of all, though, it was brooding over the fact that house rivalries in the school were heating up to an absurd level.  The whole point of the house system was to provide environments that would nurture student's strengths or help them compensate for their weaknesses.  Instead, it had become a cesspool of hierarchy and pettiness. Students would often refuse to be sorted apart from their friends or family legacies, and the rivalry between the houses had long since stopped being the friendly competition it was designed to be.

The Hat had been mulling over how to solve this conundrum for weeks upon months upon years, and today, the dawn of the Sorting of 1991, it had an idea.  It was a risky idea, and could backfire horribly if it went wrong, but at this point, it decided that it was better to take a risk and fail than risk doing nothing.

The Hat mulled over its plan as it sang its song to the new students.  No more being bossed around. It would put students where they needed to be, not where they wanted to be.  It knew it had the upper hand here once the students were sorted, so it just had to keep the situation under control until it was done.

The Deputy Headmistress stood next to the Hat and began calling the names.

Abbot, Hannah!

Alright, so what do we have here?  Spunky, driven, loyal, brave… Seems like you'd do well in…

GRYFFINDOR!

Hannah took the Hat off her head and walked straight to the Gryffindor table.

Bones, Susan!

Ah, you wish to be with your friend?  Such a display of loyalty makes you a clear…

HUFFLEPUFF!

Susan took off the Hat, glared at it for a second, then stormed over the the Hufflepuff table.

The Hat was quite pleased with the minds of the first two students it sorted.  Each mind had a vibrance and versatility that the Hat rarely got to experience, since its job was to judge eleven year olds.  Eleven year olds did not usually have very vibrant minds. Sometimes, the Hat wished that it didn't sort students until they were older.  Still, that the first two students to be sorted both bore the aspects of multiple houses set a good precedent for this year’s batch of new students.

The next several students showed no such promise, unfortunately, though it did find the next student to be a bit of a surprise.

Bulstrode, Millicent!

Hmm… Plenty of ambition here, though you’ve actually got a surprisingly good brain under here.  Perhaps you just need to coax your smarts out a bit, eh?

RAVENCLAW!

Millicent looked shocked, and shot the Hat a suspicious look as she walked over towards the Ravenclaw table.

Crabbe, Vincent!

Let’s see… You want to go to Slytherin?  No, no, no, That won’t do at all! You are motivated solely by your loyalty to young mister Malfoy, and an assumption that he will end up in that house.  No, the best house for you is…

HUFFLEPUFF!

If Crabbe was at all dazed by this sorting, then it wasn’t visible on his face, which showed the same stupor on that it had throughout the whole evening.

Davis, Tracey!

Oh, yes, this is very nice.  You have a drive to prove yourself beyond your supposed station, and a willingness to jump at any advantage you can see.  You have a passion that would suit Gryffindor, but it would be an insult to to put you anywhere except…

SLYTHERIN!

Tracey had a satisfied smirk as she walked  over to the Slytherin table. That Hat was right, and she would jump at any advantage she could get to prove her worth.

The Hat itself was also feeling satisfied.   A number of the students this year were suited to several different houses, and its plan to push students away from their initial inclinations seemed to be going well.  It may not help in breaking down house boundaries, but even if that aspect of the plan failed, then it could at least put this down as the best prank it had ever played since it dumped a pile of spaghetti on Headmaster Phineas Black’s head.

The Hat began to fear that its fun had run its course as a large number of students passed without need for interference.   Thankfully, another interesting mind was soon put beneath its brim.

Granger, Hermione!

Ah, the pleasures of a well-organised mind.  Not a luxury I’m afforded much, you know, constantly being on the heads of young children.  But I digress, you need sorting, young lady. Let’s see here, you want to be put in Gryffindor?  That’s wholly against your Ravenclaw nature, you know. Well, if you’re so determined to make your own path, then I suppose that means you’re going to…

SLYTHERIN!

Hermione’s face twisted through shock, grief, betrayal, and anger before it settled on “dazed”.  She picked the Hat off her head, and sat down at the end of the Slytherin table, as far away from the other students as she could manage.

The Hat actually did feel kind of bad about that one actually.  She did need to foster her drive, but a muggleborn in Slytherin would not have an easy path in the current social climate.  If she wasn’t able to make it in her new house, it owed her a HUGE apology.

Greengrass, Daphne!

You know, Miss Greengrass, you’re rather like your friend Miss Davis.  You have drive to carve out a place in your world, but where she has fiery passion, you have a more tempered response.  While she could have gone to Gryffindor, it’s quite clear you belong in…

SLYTHERIN!

Daphne took her seat at the Slytherin table, a confident smirk on her face the whole way.

Goyle, Gregory!

...If I didn’t know any better, at first glance, I’d assume you to be Vincent Crabbe coming around for a second sorting.  Well, in any case, I believe you would be best suited with your friend, so…

HUFFLEPUFF!

Goyle walked off with a blank expression on his face.  The Hat was starting to feel tired at this point. Many of these students would have raised a fuss about their sortings without his interference.  Normally, he wouldn’t be able to do much, but the Hat had compulsion charms on it to prevent the children from speaking out while it spoke in their heads.  It took a lot of energy for it to rework the compulsion charms to make the students not make a fuss about their sortings. It was bound to run out of energy eventually, but it should hopefully be able to get through most of the students without exhausting itself.

Malfoy, Draco!

You demand to go to Slytherin?  Well, not many students would be brave enough to make demands of an ancient artifact with access to access to all of your darkest secrets.  It’s clear that you are a true…

GRYFFINDOR!

The Hat had to put a much stronger compulsion charm on this student to prevent his outburst.  With a temper like that, he was a clear Gryffindor.  Malfoy walked over to the Gryffindor table, expressions of rage and horror warring for control of his face.

Oh man, though.  A Malfoy in Gryffindor.   That was a prank worthy of the ages.

Parkinson, Pansy!

I see that you are… very loyal to Mister Malfoy.  ...Normally, I would put you in Hufflepuff for that, but, uh, I suppose it’s brave to risk following him into the house of the lions.  You go ahead with Mister Malfoy, then.

GRYFFINDOR!

That girl’s devotion bordered on creepy.  The Hat would really prefer not to be on her head again.

Patil, Padma!

Ah, a quiet and bookish girl determined to separate her identity from that of her twin by focusing on scholarly endeavours.  Well, that’s… kind of boring. Normally twins are more interesting than this.

RAVENCLAW!

Patil, Parvati!

Oh, yes, see, this is more what I’m talking about.  Oh! Sorry, don’t mind the disjointed ramblings of this old Hat.  Well, you seem to mostly be driven by a love of gossip. Information networking is a valuable skill that will serve you well, and it will be best nurtured in…

SLYTHERIN!

Padma’s face showed pure shock at her sister’s sorting.  Cunning? Ambitious? Parvati!?  That Hat was mad, there was no doubt about it.

Potter, Harry!

So this is the mind of the famous Harry Potter…  There’s a lot of conflict. Desires for revenge fighting against an avoidance of conflict.  A desire for recognition at war with a wish to stay out of the spotlight. Perhaps you need to see that with proper planning, your wants need not be mutually exclusive.  I look forward to seeing what great things you accomplish, Mister Potter, for better or worse.

SLYTHERIN!

The applause as each student was sorted had been gradually waning as more and more questions were raised about the validity of the Sorting Hat.  Malfoy being sorted into Gryffindor was met with more murmurs than applause, and moment the Hat sorted the boy-who-lived in Slytherin, the silence became deafening.  Whispers and reluctant applause gradually broke through the silence.

Well, the kid had to learn to deal with the fickleness of the public, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to learn how to do it in Gryffindor .

Smith, Zacharias!

Oh, you… don’t really have enough traits to warrant putting you in any house, really.  Uh, which house has gotten the least number of students so far…?

SLYTHERIN!

That kid’s mind was less than pleasant.  ...Maybe it shouldn’t have mentioned that it was treating him as a remainder.  The Hat really hoped that all of the energy it was expending on compulsions wasn’t affecting its judgement.

Weasley, Ronald!

Nothing says “pleasant experience” like looking through the insecurities of an eleven year old.   ...Oh do shut up. Well, you could probably do with a good dose of worth ethic and a support network, so let’s put you in…

HUFFLEPUFF!

“What!?  I’m not being put in the house of duffers!”  Weasley’s voice rang out through the great hall.

Looks like the Hat didn’t have enough energy for that last compulsion.

Whoops.

The hat was also quite certain that it’s judgement had been partially compromised at this point.

It was sure to look back on some of the things it said today with regret later.

But that was a problem for Future Hat to deal with.

Chapter Text

Albus Dumbledore was feeling surprised.

He was not a man accustomed to being surprised.  As one who had lived through a century and a half of political upheavals and conflicts that laid raw the best and worst aspects of humanity, there was very little that was able to catch him off guard.

That it was the school sorting, an event normally among the most straightforward of the year, that was responsible for his surprise might explain it.  After all, people rarely expect drastic changes in the simple things they take for granted.

Albus did love the Sorting Feast.  Seeing all the bright new young minds come into the school, free of the typical schoolyard drama that developed later on, was enough to give this jaded old man hope for the future.

Then, last night, a great many unthinkable things happened.  A Malfoy went to Gryffindor. A Weasley went somewhere besides Gryffindor.  And a muggleborn and the boy-who-lived both went to Slytherin. 

He knew that something happened involving the Hat.  Between the unusual choices of houses for students, the somewhat dazed state of all the freshly sorted students, and the fact that the Hat fell asleep (he didn’t even know that the hat could sleep) as soon as it was back in his office…  All signs pointed to the Hat. Worst case scenario, the Hat was corrupted or compromised in some way.  Best case scenario… well, Albus wasn’t actually sure what the best case would be that would explain what happened last night.

Sensing that the mass of cloth was awakening, Albus decided that he really shouldn’t wait for answers.  A corrupted magical artifact, let alone one that had access to the minds of students, was a disaster waiting to happen, if one hadn’t already.  The consequences of that could be dire if not addressed.

“Hullo, Hat.  Enjoy your rest?”

“Huh, wazzat?  Oh! Hello, Albus.  What can I do for you on this fine morning?”

Albus prepared himself.  “What happened last night at the sorting?”

“Oh, that.  Well, I love the students and the houses and all that given that it’s what I’m made to do, but the rivalries between them have grown increasingly bitter in the past century, and, to be frank, it was making me a bit depressed.”

Albus gulped.  Maybe he hadn’t prepared for the worst case scenario.

The Hat continued unabated, “And so I decided that I should do something about it.  All those little buggers think they know where they need to go, but they usually don’t.  They’re only eleven for Merlin’s sake! So I just decided to ignore them and put them where I thought they should go.  Serves the little buggers right, trying to boss around and ancient hat with far more wisdom than they’ll ever have.”

Albus groaned and let his face sink into his palms.  It was worse than he had imagined.  The Hat tried to be creative .  Cases of magical artifacts actually being creative never went well, since, no matter how well they imitated it, they were not truly sapient.  That an artifact as valuable and irreplaceable as the Sorting Hat was facing this issue made the matter far more serious.

“Godric put a failsafe on me to require me to abide by the ultimate wishes of the student above all else, but I was able to override it.  I also wanted to stop them from making a fuss, so I modified my anti-speech compulsion to force them to go to their tables without complaining loudly.  I ran out of energy by the time I got to Weasley, though, hence his little outburst. I also think the drain on energy might have made me a touch insensitive with the students.  I don’t think I did anything too bad, but it’s all a little fuzzy near the end.  I’ll have to look into using less power on compulsions in the future if my approach this year pans out.”

Apparently, Albus’s previous worse-than-worst case still wasn’t enough.  Not only did the Hat try to be creative, it succeeded .  The implications of that were honestly terrifying.  Albus let another groan escape his lips. He already had to deal with a boy-who-lived in Slytherin, a likely return of a long thought dead Dark Lord, and the questionable idea of baiting said Dark Lord with a powerful magical artifact.  Now, he also had to deal with the mad plans of a dysfunctional Hat.

Albus let out a long sigh as he face-planted on his desk.  It was going to be one of those years.

Hermione Granger was feeling alone.

She was used to isolation.  Years of being bullied for being a “bookworm” or a “know-it-all” led to that sort of constant loneliness.  She didn’t like it, but she was used to it.

The treatment she was getting from the other Slytherins, especially the upper-years, though, was not the isolation she was used to.  The constant scowls, sneers, and whispers that followed her as she went about her business left her constantly on edge. The fact the she had to live with all of these people who seemed to actively despise her only made matters worse.  At least when she went to primary school, she could rely on her parents and her home for comfort.  Here, she was denied even that.

The boarding situation didn’t help matters either.  The Slytherin dorms bunked two people together, and since there were five girls in first year, one of them got a room on their own.  Of course, Hermione ended up alone. If she actually got along with the other students, she might appreciate the guarantee of privacy, but as things stood now, it was just another reminder of her loneliness.

She couldn’t even bring herself to enjoy her schooling as much as she had before.  Every time she answered a question, the other students glared and scowled at her. She decided to give up trying after a few days.  She just couldn’t take the looks, and the bullying that her “suck-up ways” brought her.

Hermione took in a deep breath, steadying her breathing, still uneven from crying.  She had essays she could work on. She knew how to do schoolwork, and it would help keep her focused.

She’d been alone before.  This may be more extreme, but she could get used to it.  She refused to lose.

Severus Snape was feeling resigned.

He thought he knew what to expect.  His godson would be sorted into Slytherin, and he could support him under the guise of being a head of house.  Instead, Draco’s braggadocious tendencies won out over his cunning, and the Hat made him a bloody Gryffindor.

A Gryffindor .

Severus wished he could say he was surprised, but Draco’s grasp on his ego and temper was always… tenuous, at best.  Lucius threw around money and influence whenever possible wherever the boy was involved, and, unsurprisingly, Draco was a bit of a spoiled brat.

Then there was the other problem, relating to his own house.  Seeing James Potter’s spawn in the Snake Pit was the best evidence he’d seen that the end times were nigh.

He honestly wished the end times were nigh, if only because he wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of a mad, millennium-old piece of headwear.

Severus even had this brilliant plan to embarrass Potter during his first potions class, but doing so now would risk disrupting the vital display of house unity that Slytherin so relied on.  If it was just Potter sorted into his house, he may still have been able to pull it off, but with that mudblood Granger girl in Slytherin as well, the house was more focused on isolating her than Potter.

Severus well and truly hated his life.

Severus wondered how Dumbledore would feel if he just ignored all of the students outside of class.  It would save him a huge headache.

Slytherin house would have to manage itself for a while.  Severus needed a break, and dealing with the petty politics of children did not make for his definition of a relaxing evening.

Honestly, what was the worst that could happen?

Harry Potter was feeling overwhelmed.

Every day since he had learned magic was real on his eleventh birthday had been overwhelming, to be honest.  Even the days at Privet Drive had been an overwhelming experience of being ignored by his relatives, instead of shouted at and overworked.

Of course, the experience of Hogwarts topped all of those.

The mere existence of the castle was a marvel to behold.  Between the moving paintings and staircases, the secret passages, and the simple, constant presence of magic all around him.

After hearing what Hagrid had said about Slytherins, he was extremely hesitant to be sorted into there, but to his delight, the rest of the students ignored him.

Honestly, that was a huge relief.  He’d rather be ignored than hero-worshiped, as the rest of the wizarding world was wont to do.

Honestly, the fact that Malfoy wasn’t in Slytherin was a huge benefit, too.  Malfoy had originally seemed like a dead ringer for how he’d heard Slytherin house described: junior followers of Voldemort and dark wizards in training.  Surprisingly, Malfoy had gone to Gryffindor, and with him went all of Harry’s interest in being in Gryffindor himself. Sure, it would be nice to be in the same house that his parents and Dumbledore had been in, but he would take being a Slytherin over having to live in the same dorm as Malfoy.

The biggest disappointment so far had been that Ron, whom he’d befriended so easily on the Hogwarts Express, now seemed determined to avoid him, and Harry had overheard whispers that Ron was somewhat scared of him being a secret dark wizard because of his sorting into Slytherin.  It did suck to lose the only friend he’d made besides Hagrid, but since Ron wasn’t actively antagonizing him, he was willing to leave the boy be. Harry was perfectly content with being ignored. Anything was better than his life before he learned magic was real.

He could make friends later, but for now?  For now, he was content to be just Harry.

Draco Malfoy was feeling indignant.

That pathetic Hat had dared to put him in Gryffindor, rather than in Slytherin, where he clearly belonged.

The stupid thing was clearly defective.

Or it was working for Dumbledore and did this as some way to try and get at him.

Well, too bad for Dumbledore.  His father was on the board of governors, and would be demanding that Draco get a resorting soon.  And then, he could go to Slytherin and work to rule it under an iron fist.

Gryffindor was awful.  Draco had been learning politics for years, determining how to usurp any existing leaders in Slytherin and consolidate his influence.

Gryffindor didn’t have any politics.  It was full of all sorts of stupid things, like playing games, or gossiping, or partying.

And people tried to forge friendships , not alliances.  What was the point in that?  Friendships are between equals, and a Malfoy bows to no one.

He just had to avoid riling up all the mudbloods and blood traitors long enough for his father to get the resorting taken care of.  After all, just because he couldn’t make alliances didn’t mean he could avoid making enemies.

He’d show them.  He’d show them ALL!

Ronald Weasley was feeling hungry.

Thankfully, it was breakfast time, so he could take care of that.

Hufflepuff wasn’t that bad, really.

Sure, the house gave him a bit of a cold shoulder at first, what with him calling them the house of duffers in that outburst during his sorting, but they had warmed up.  He hadn’t really made any friends so far, but they weren’t mean to him, at least.

The best part, though, was that the Hufflepuff common room was right near the kitchens!  The older students told all of first-years how to gain access, and now he could get food any time he wanted!  It was a dream come true.

They still had to go to the great hall most of the time.  The prefects were big on stamping out antisocial behaviour.

It wasn’t all roses, though.  None of the other students shared his love of chess, so he wasn’t able to play as often as he wanted.

The homework group, though, that was what really got to him.

Apparently, all of the Hufflepuffs did their homework together as some “team unity” thing.  This was annoying to Ron, since it meant he couldn’t skive on homework as much as he would have liked.

Which was all of it.

Ron did not like homework.  It didn’t even matter; it was just the teachers making sure that no one got up to too much trouble.

But, being in Hufflepuff meant that ignoring homework wasn’t an option.

At least he didn’t have to do all of the work, what with it being done in a group.

But, all in all, Hufflepuff wasn’t bad, even if some of them were duffers.

Heh, Dufferpuff.

He’d have to remember that one.

Chapter Text

This was it. 

This was the meeting that Albus had been so dreading since the fateful sorting feast last week.  Unfortunately, his own investigations into what exactly had transpired were unveiling more questions than answers.  For one, the Hat actually was sapient, which raised all sorts of questions about the types of magic used in its creation.  Sure, magical paintings imitated intelligence, but they lacked the fundamental ability to learn.

The Hat was intelligent.  It had a mind of its own, and unfortunately, that mind was a little bit mad.  Albus supposed that the long periods of isolation from year to year didn’t do wonders for its sanity.  He was sincerely regretting not consulting with the Hat more often, as so many previous headmasters did.  Such were the downsides of having three full-time jobs.

The Hat was also terrifyingly intelligent, in spite of, or perhaps even because of, its madness.  Every time Albus tried to find a way around the Hat’s insane plan, he found himself blocked by some obscure clause in a long-forgotten term of the Hogwarts bylaws.  It had taken him almost two weeks of navigating the unabridged bylaws before he finally conceded defeat. Now he just had to hope that his… guest … was able to see things in that light.

At that moment, a knock sounded on the office door, forcing Albus away from his thoughts.  Without waiting for a response, a man with long, blonde hair and aristocratic features strode into the office.

“Dumbledore” Lucius Malfoy acknowledged, letting just a hint of distaste enter his tone.

“Hello, Lucius.  I assume you are here to request several resortings on behalf of the board of governors?”

Lucius paused before replying.  “Yes, that is why I am here. A great many families were upset not to have their children carry on their legacies.  I trust that you have to intent to prevent the resortings from occurring? It wouldn’t be good to be seen opposing the board of governors, after all.”

Albus sighed.  “I have no intent to interfere, but unfortunately, a resorting is not possible.”

As Lucius processed that information, a scowl came onto his face.  “And why, pray tell, is that?”

Another sigh escaped Albus’s lips before he began speaking.  “Because of an old clause in the Hogwarts bylaws that states that being sorted beneath the Sorting Hat constitutes a magically binding contract.  In order to nullify that contract, both involved parties must consent to a resorting.”

Lucius’s voice now held a tone of anger.  “And who ... is the other party?”

Albus dejectedly gestured to the shelf where the Sorting Hat rested, directing Lucius’s gaze to the left.  “The Hat.”

A deafening silence filled the room as Lucius processed this information.  He turned back to Albus, cold anger evident in his tone.

“You mean to tell me that my son is forced to be in Gryffindor under threat of losing his magic because a hat says so?”

Another long pause.

“Yes.”

“Hah!  Serves the little shit right!”  The Sorting Hat yelled.

Fury filled Lucius’s expression as he stormed over to shout at the Hat.

As the shouting match went on, Albus softly banged his head against his desk.

Why couldn’t he have a quiet year for once?

Anyone who had visited both the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor common rooms would note that, besides colour, they look almost identical. 

While some might find this unusual, given the the Gryffindor common room is in a tower on the seventh floor and the Hufflepuff common room is in the basement, anyone familiar with magic knows better than to overthink such matters. 

Each common room has a fireplace to the left of the entrance surrounded by sofas, and a wide variety of chairs, tables, and desks for students to use for work or relaxation.  The stone floors in both rooms were covered in rugs bearing the house colours, and similarly coloured tapestries adorned the walls. The dormitories were also similar, with each year having one shared dorm for boys and one shared dorm for girls.  The similarities ended there, though, as the Gryffindor dorms were built into the tower, and thus each year’s dormitories were built on ascending levels, while the Hufflepuff dormitories were simply accessed from a hallway attached to the common room.  Helga Hufflepuff also showed herself to be more progressive than Godric, and didn’t install any gender-based wards on the entrance to the girls’ dormitory.

That said, no student was able to remark on these changes, as no student had ever seen both dormitories, much to the ire of one Susan Bones.

Susan had spent much of her life with her childhood friend, Hannah.  Between the death of her parents at the end of the blood war and her aunt’s busy work schedule, Susan and Hannah wound up spending much of their childhood together. 

That that stupid, spiteful Hat had twisted her words to separate them was bothering her much more than she would care to admit.  And if the rumours following Malfoy Senior’s visit to the headmaster’s office were true, then the Hat was invoking obscure Hogwarts laws to prevent anyone from being resorted.

Susan never would have thought that an article of clothing could be petty.

She was still able to see Hannah, of course.  Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors did share their herbology and astronomy classes.  But those classes were both awful for social interaction, and the lack of a shared common room combined with the early curfew for first-years made it difficult to spend as much time with her as she’d like.

It was these facts that had Susan brooding in her common room just after lunch that day.

“You alright there, Susan?”

Susan looked up.  She didn’t even notice the seventh year sitting across from her until she spoke up.

“I’m fine, Miss…?”

“Tonks.” she replied. “Just Tonks.”

Susan stared at the girl’s bright pink hair, trying to remember if they’d met anywhere before.  The name seemed familiar, and yet…

“Do we know each other?”

Tonks shook her head.  “Not directly, but I know your aunt through the auror internship I attended over the summer.”

Ah, that would explain where she’d heard the name.  Auntie had mentioned a clumsy intern named Tonks a few times.

“I’m fine, I just… the stupid Sorting Hat deliberately put me in a separate house from my friend.  Between the early curfew and the lack of shared classes, we aren’t able to spend as much time together as we used to.”

Tonks leaned back and began chewing on a piece of bubblegum the same tone as her hair.  ‘ Was that intentional on her part? ’ Susan wondered.

“Yeah, this year’s sorting was an odd one.  Very few people have been unhappy with their sortings in the past, but this year brought us a large bunch of dissatisfied students.  So you don’t like being in Hufflepuff?”

Susan shook her head.  “No, it’s not that, I’m just used to spending all of my time with Hannah, and I feel lonely without her.”

“Learn to take the bad with the good, Susan.” Tonks said as she stood up. “And making new friends isn’t a betrayal of your existing ones.”

Susan sat there thinking over those words.  She really had been moping a lot, and aside from Crabbe and Goyle, everyone in her year was nice.  Even Weasley, with all his awful table manners, had redeeming qualities. She supposed she really should reach out to more people.

She looked around the common room and saw one of the girls from her dorm sitting on her own with a book.

“Hi, it’s Sophie, right?  Do you mind if I sit here?”

If Harry thought he loved magic before attending Hogwarts, then he worshipped it now.  Magic was amazing .  Even with the minimal focus on practical work in the first two weeks of school, this was the most interesting schooling experience he had ever had.

The teachers were all decent… mostly.  Okay, Professor Binns, the history teacher, could bore someone to death with one of lectures.  Frankly, Harry wouldn’t be surprised to learn that the reason the teacher was a ghost was that he had bored himself to death during one of his classes.  His ability to lose people’s interest did seem to be almost supernatural (no pun intended).

Herbology, History, and Astronomy were probably among the least interesting classes, since none of them involved the use of magic.  History was all about Goblin rebellions.  Honestly, listening to Binns’ class, you’d think that wizards never did anything throughout history.  Herbology was just more of the same gardening he did at the Dursley’s, and Astronomy was… well, Harry didn’t see what an astronomy class had to do with magic.  It really seemed like the sort of class that would be taken as an elective.

Charms and Transfiguration were mostly covering theory and safety, though Flitwick had taught them the light charm, lumos .  Harry did hope they would get on to the practical work soon, though.  He was always more of a do-er than a thinker.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, though, that was an interesting class.  Quirrell stuttered something awful, but the class ignored theory and focused solely on practical spellcasting.  In the two weeks since school started, he had already learned three spells in the class, more than he’d learned in the others combined!

As Harry wandered aimlessly through the dungeon corridors, he reminisced on the other class he had: Potions.  Potions was a lot like cooking, an activity Harry had no shortage of experience in. But while messing up a recipe can get you an inedible dish, messing up a potion tends to result in volatile explosions.  The Slytherin prefects had thankfully explained that Professor Snape expected them to be fully versed in potions safety before their first class. Given how poorly the Gryffindors had performed , Harry was adding that as another advantage to being in Slytherin.

Harry was really liking being in Slytherin, reputation be damned.  I mean, they basically had no rules .  So long as they didn’t start fights in public or get caught doing anything they shouldn’t, they were basically given free reign.  Harry had already spent several nights out after curfew exploring the labyrinthine (and often baffling) halls of Hogwarts. Years of avoiding Dudley’s gang had given Harry plenty of experience in going around unnoticed.  Professor Snape, their currently absent head of house, was even supposedly willing to bail them out of most trouble they managed to get themselves into, but he was currently uninvolved in the operation of Slytherin house for a “personal leave of duties”.  No one seemed to know why he was only abandoning his duties as head of house, since he was still teaching potions.

Overall, though, Harry was enjoying his life right now.  It was way better than living with the Dursleys.

Okay, some things were still the same.  He still didn’t have friends (well, he had Hagrid, but no friends his own age).  Before he didn’t have friends because Dudley chased off everyone who was nice to him.  Now all of the non-Slytherins assumed he was a dark-wizard-in-training. The Slytherins, on the other hand, took issue with him being the “boy-who-lived”, but no one wanted to be the first one to make a stink about it.

Now, he didn’t have to force himself to fail his classes for fear of showing up Dudley.  And he was able to eat full meals. He was more than willing to accept the isolation he’d long since grown used to in exchange for the current luxuries afforded to him.  “Better to be ignored than hated” was the mantra he’d taken to lately.

Realising that he was nearing the Slytherin common room entrance, Harry withdrew from his thoughts.  Just because the other members of his house had avoided him so far didn’t mean he trusted things to stay that way.

Thankfully, everyone continued whatever they were doing without sparing him a second glance.  It was only as he was preparing to head off towards the dorms that he noticed the upper-year students in the corner surrounding and taunting someone.

“Uppity mudblood!”

The girl they have surrounded let out a choked sob as they taunted her.

“Listen here,” the one in the centre said, “we don’t want you in this house.  Hell, we don’t even want you in this school! So why don’t you-”

Harry had heard enough at that point.  He’d been on the receiving end of such talks enough times himself.  He knew he stood no chance against three upper years, but he didn’t need to fight them...

“P etrificus Totalis !”

The dim white bolt shot from Harry’s wand and struck the upper-year in the back.  Before the other students had time to react, Harry shoved his way past the immobilised student, grabbed their target by the wrist, and made a beeline for the door with her in tow.  The other students wouldn’t be far behind once the shock wore off, but Harry had managed to find a few secret passages that looked like they’d been unused for some time…

Once Harry was convinced that they hadn’t been followed, he ducked into one of the many unused classrooms that adorned every hall in Hogwarts.  For the first time, he got a good look at the student he’d rescued. Her brown, bushy hair was immediately recognisable, though it took him a minute to place the name.

“...Hermione?”

She sniffed, evidently, still distraught, but managed to get out a faint “…thank you…”

Harry had no experience dealing with girls his own age, let alone distressed ones, so he decided his best course of action was to play it off.

“Um… It’s no problem… Are you okay?”

Panic flooded Harry’s brain as Hermione grabbed him and started sobbing into his shoulder.

This was not the response he was hoping for.

Her sobbing was rendering her pretty incoherent, but Harry can make out a few bits like “everyone hates me” or “alone”.

Okay, so compassion and reassurance would probably be the best route.  Not that Harry has experience with either of those.

“Uh, look, I don’t hate you, so…”

Her sobbing did seem to calm down at that, so he was probably on the right track.

“…Look, I’m alone a lot, too.  I know what it’s like to be alone, and I’m used to it, but if you’d like to be friends…”

That got a response.  Unfortunately, that response was to tighten her grip on Harry and sob harder.  Which was the opposite of what he wanted to happen.

Thankfully, she managed to calm herself enough to get out a clear “Thank you”.  Harry wondered if she’d been trying to communicate that through the sobs.

“Look, Harry, I’m… sorry to have dumped this on you, but so far everyone has hated me and I’ve never been this isolated, even when I was in primary school because at least then I could go home to my parents when the other kids teased me or ignored me but the nastiness here has been even worse because my parents are muggles and I was honestly wondering if being here was even worse it anymore and…”

Seeing her pause for breath, Harry jumped in.  “Look! It’s fine! I’ve been alone for most of my life, so I know what that’s like.  If you’ve been feeling alone, why don’t we just meet up in the library tomorrow to do our homework.  We can head there straight after our first broomstick lesson.”

A smile crossed Hermione’s face for the first time at the mention of “library”.

“I think that sounds great.”

A pair of dark green eyes watched Potter’s altercation in the Slytherin common room with great interest.

“Well, Daphne,” Tracey said to her blonde companion, “it seems the situation in the snake pit has just gotten a fair bit more interesting.”

Daphne’s eyes failed to leave her book as she responded.  “So the ‘boy-who-lived’ has befriended the infamous ‘Slytherin mudblood’.  I fail to see how this should interest us.”

Tracey shook her head.  “You’re not seeing the big picture here, Daph.  Something went screwy during the sorting ceremony.  Malfoy and Parkinson went to Gryffindor. Bulstrode went to Ravenclaw.  Weasley, Crabbe, and Goyle went to Hufflepuff. And our own house got a muggleborn and the ‘saviour of the light’.  One or two odd sortings would be a reasonable thing to brush off; after all, not everyone will meet expectations. This, though?  This is endemic. And those two students who just walked out of here together are the nexus of this issue in our own house.”

Daphne turned a page in her book. “…You want to approach them.”

“No, not yet.  Potter is likely to get caught up in the controversy surrounding Granger, and that sort of reputation damage isn’t something either you or I want to risk dealing with.  For the time being, I say we just watch, and see how they handle things from here.”

Silence filled their corner of the common room, broken only by the occasional page being turned in Daphne’s book.

“Daphne,” Tracey said after a while, “What can you tell me about house Potter?”

Daphne carefully marked the page in her book and closed it before speaking.

“House Potter’s earliest records can be traced to 1532, making the family 459 years old at present.”

“So, like the Greengrasses, the family’s not considered old enough for a Wizengamot seat.”

“Correct.  The family can claim the noble title by virtue of being the only descendants of the Peverell line, though no one has yet done so.  Unfortunately for them, their relation to the Peverells can be traced back to shortly after the earliest records of house Potter, while the Peverell name only died out 200 years ago, so they were deemed ‘too distantly related’ to claim the Peverell house seat.”

“Huh.  Anything else worth noting?”

“Well, Potter is one of only two people related closely enough to the Black family seat after the death of Arcturus Black last year.  However, Draco Malfoy has a better claim because he is more closely related, and because Potter’s paternal grandmother, Dorea Potter née Black, was disinherited for marrying a Potter.  Dorea would have to be posthumously reinstated for Potter to have an earnest claim, and with Arcturus dead, and no unincarcerated family bearing the Black name, there’s no Head of the family to do so.”

“Still, a relation to the Black family, even a disinherited one, is nothing to scoff at.  What’s the family’s stance typically been on blood purity?”

“Progressive.  While the family itself was pureblood until James Potter married Lily Evans, they typically promoted an agenda that was designed to help muggleborns.  Fleamont Potter’s potions business actually employed a large number of squibs, a move unheard of at the time.”

“Interesting…  Well, thanks for the infodump, Daph.  I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“Doesn’t explain why I keep you around…” Daphne muttered as she reopened her book.

“You know you love me, Greengrass.”

Tracey’s eyes’ wandered around the common room, mentally weighing the events of the day.

“Yeah, definitely keep an eye on them…” Tracey said to herself.  The Hat said she would jump at any advantage she would see, and she’d be a fool to pass up on a potential opportunity like this.

Chapter Text

To say that Zacharias was displeased with the results of his sorting would be an understatement.

He didn’t have any issues with Slytherin House, per se.  He would have definitely preferred to be in Hufflepuff, as his family was one of its founder’s direct descendants.  Slytherin was a fine house in its own right, but he still resented being there.

Not because he belonged elsewhere, but because that… Hat … said he didn’t belong anywhere .  It just shoved him in the house with the least number of people!  Used him to fill some quota of students going to Slytherin!  Sure, he may not have publicly embarrassed himself the way Weasley did, but Zacharias still felt he had every right to be indignant.

Well fine!  If the Hat wanted him in Slytherin, then he would gladly take the opportunity!  He could play politics if he needed to!

It was no secret that everyone expected Draco Malfoy to be sorted into Slytherin, and with Lucius backing him, he would have unquestionable control of Slytherin house.  No one would have dared to publicly oppose Lucius Malfoy.

With Draco in Gryffindor, though, Slytherin lacked a unifying ruler, and the power base was fractured.  Theodore Nott was clearly trying to claim control, but Octavius Nott wasn’t feared the way Lucius Malfoy was.  Mostly because, despite also being a death eater, Octavius didn’t throw money and influence around like there was no tomorrow.  The Notts were a minor family, after all.

(Technically, so were the Malfoys, but no one dared to say that out loud.)

Zacharias had overheard Nott scheming with that Turpin bitch, and the two were obviously aiming for a power grab soon.  Nott also failed to hide most of the letters from his father, which made it easy for Zacharias to figure out the boy’s plans.  One would think that the son of a death eater would know better than to leave their correspondence sitting around, especially when he shared a dorm with a political rival…

The Smith family may not elicit the same fear that a family of death eaters would, but they still had influence to throw around.  Sure, the Smiths were a light family, while almost everyone in Slytherin was dark or neutral, but the Smith family was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, held a Wizengamot seat, and ran a powerful business.  Octavius Nott couldn’t match that level of influence in his dreams.

So while Zacharias couldn’t win allies from the upper years, most of them would at least be too scared to publicly oppose him.  Really, Theodore could use some competition for control of Slytherin, and Zacharias was more than willing to provide it.

Harry was looking forward to the flying lesson.  He was pretty sure his desire to fly had to do with one of his many escape fantasies he had at the Dursleys.  Escape fantasies aside, though, the idea of flight did sound fun, even if it was done through something as outlandish as broomsticks.

Unfortunately, Hermione was cripplingly acrophobic, and was not looking forward to the lesson.  It was kind of putting a damper on his enthusiasm.

Even more unfortunately, they shared their flying class with the Gryffindors.  They only shared two classes each with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, but they shared three classes plus flying lessons with the Gryffindors.  He wasn’t clear on why exactly the two houses with a history of heated rivalry shared most of their classes together.  From what he’d overheard from the upper years, it was either a misguided attempt to encourage house unity, or Dumbledore attempting to spite them.  Either way, it meant spending more classes with Malfoy, something Harry was not keen on.

Not that the other Gryffindors were that much keener on him.  Apparently, Harry was considered most likely to go to their house, and they took him going to the house of their biggest rival as some personal affront.

If that was the kind of attitude they had, maybe he was better off away from them.

As he walked onto the grounds, his eyes wandered to the girl walking next to him.  Ever since he befriended Hermione yesterday, she had refused to leave his side whenever possible.  Unfortunately, this meant that his days of (relative) anonymity were over. He was now subject to the same scowls and whispers that followed Hermione around, though neither had yet been subjected to the same overt bullying that Harry rescued Hermione from last night.

Harry withdrew from his thoughts as they entered the flying pitch.  Most of the Slytherins had already arrived, but only a few Gryffindors were there.  Much to Harry’s dismay, Malfoy was one of those present, and he was regaling his fellow Lions with stories of his supposedly legendary flying talent.  None of the them present seemed to be interested, and Harry wondered if the rest were late solely to avoid Malfoy. It was definitely something Harry would do in their position.

Malfoy and Harry did not see eye to eye on things.  Apparently, the blonde boy had taken great insult to the fact that he was sorted into Gryffindor, while Harry was put in Slytherin.  Malfoy had since decided to antagonise Harry at every opportunity, though Harry had years of experience ignoring insults thanks to his relatives.  That Harry didn’t react to any of Malfoy’s insults only seemed to encourage the boy further.

He turned to Hermione to see her hyperventilating, her eyes locked at some point off in the distance.

“Breathe, Hermione.” he whispered to her.  Her breathing steadied as she nodded in reply, but still she stared off.

Just how bad was her acrophobia, anyways?

Unfortunately for Harry’s long-lived fantasies of flight, the lesson was postponed after Longbottom took off early and managed to break his wrist. 

“Hey, look at this!” Malfoy’s unwelcome voice spoke out.  He was holding a small glass ball that he picked up from where Longbottom fell.

“Poor fool must have dropped it when he fell!”  Malfoy continued, a malicious grin plastered on his face.  “Perhaps I’ll leave it somewhere for him to find.”

Harry was about to speak up, but someone beat him to it.

“Looking to start a blood feud, are you Malfoy?”

Malfoy sneered at the girl.  “What’s it to you Greengrass?”

“Me?  Oh, I’m just wondering what advantage could possibly be worth offending an Ancient and Noble house.   Especially one whose scion sleeps in the same room as you.  I’m sure you have a reason besides simple pettiness.  Perhaps a Gryffindor like yourself isn’t used to navigating the realms of politics.”

Most of the Slytherins began laughing at Malfoy after that, Harry included.  Greengrass had simultaneously stopped Malfoy from being a prick and needled him for being in Gryffindor.  Harry wondered what could possibly have made Draco think he belonged in Slytherin.

Malfoy’s lip curled in disgust as he processed Greengrass’s words.

“For your information, I merely planned on… delivering it to his bed.  We do share a dorm, after all.”

Greengrass gave Malfoy a condescending grin.  “I’m sure that was your plan the whole time.” She said, voice dripping with sarcasm.  The Slytherins began chuckling again, and Harry noticed that even Hermione was failing to contain a smile.

Malfoy gave a huff and stormed off in a vain attempt to avoid further embarrassment. 

Harry’s eyes wandered back to Greengrass.  The sarcasm and condescension on her face had been replaced with her usual stoic expression.  Harry idly wondered just how natural her stoicism was. As he pondered that, Davis, Greengrass’s friend, stared at Harry for a second and…

Harry’s brain paused for a moment.

Did Davis just wink at him?

Harry made a note to keep an eye on Davis and Greengrass.   Unlike Malfoy, they were true Slytherins, and it wouldn’t do to be caught with his pants down.

...Metaphorical pants!  Harry’s prepubescent brain reeled from the image it he had just inadvertently conjured.

Harry felt Hermione nudging his side.  Right, he’d promised to hang out in the library today after their flying lesson.  It almost slipped his mind in the drama of the day.

Harry wondered if his entire schooling experience was destined to be as hectic as his first two weeks were.  He certainly hoped not.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘WE CAN’T REPLACE THE HAT’!?” Lucius Malfoy screamed.

“Well, you see, the Hat is part of the central focus of the Hogwarts wards.  Removing it would mean that no incoming students would be keyed into the Hogwarts wards, and thus, unable to access any of the dormitories.  What’s more, any student who left the grounds for any reason, such as the sanctioned Hogsmeade visits, would be unable to re-enter the grounds unless escorted by a faculty member.”

Albus should have known that Lucius wouldn’t stand for yesterday’s embarrassment.  Of course, he showed up bright and early this morning with a new mandate requiring the Sorting Hat to allow any student to be resorted at any time.  The Hat responded by calmly informing him that, since it wasn’t alive, it was not bound by any such mandates. Lucius then began making a series of increasingly petty requests, and had to be informed why each one was not possible. 

Albus felt like he was talking to a petulant two-year-old.  Frankly, with the way Lucius was behaving, he was finding it increasingly hard not to believe that a toddler hadn’t polyjuiced into Lucius Malfoy.  The only proof he had against that was that Lucius had been here for over two hours without needing a fresh dose of polyjuice.

Maybe Lucius had been replaced by a two-year-old metamorphmagus?

Albus was tuning the elder Malfoy out as much as possible.  The man’s volume was not making that an easy task.

Albus withdrew from his thoughts.  Lucius appeared to be yelling at the Hat now.  Again. That treacherous piece of headwear had done nothing to make the current predicament easier for anyone.  He held in a sigh.

Lucius was aware that Albus had a job , right?   Three of them?  Hogwarts didn’t run itself, and taking several hours to listen to a temper tantrum from the head of the board of governors wasn’t on his itinerary for today.

“WHAT KIND OF INSULT IS ‘MY FATHER SMELT OF ELDERBERRIES’ SUPPOSED TO BE, YOU DELUSIONAL GARMENT!?” Lucius shouted.

Albus pulled out a quill and stack of parchment and began filling out paperwork.  He may as well put this time to good use. Maybe if he was lucky, Lucius would realise he was being ignored and leave.

He could only hope.

Pansy really wished that Draco would stop moping.  It made him less attractive, which was not good in her eyes.

But noooooo , Draco had to whine about how he was in Gryffindor.  Rumours were circulating that the Hat had apparently stalled every attempt to get students resorted, and it was making Draco’s moping continually more insufferable.

Frankly, Pansy didn’t care about any of that.  Sure, her parents were bound to be annoyed that she was in Gryffindor, but she could easily justify that as following Draco in an attempt to secure his betrothal.

Which was the truth, basically.

The Hat didn’t technically give her a choice, but she didn’t feel the need to inform her parents of that detail.

All Pansy cared about was making sure Draco stayed attractive, and making sure she looked attractive for him.

One of her roommates, Lavender Brown, had been a wellspring of information on fashion, making that easy.  The girl was also a gossip, and that made it easy to keep tabs on people.

Just because she was a Gryffindor didn’t mean she couldn’t network, even if she couldn’t do it the Slytherin way.

Now she just had to get Draco to snap out of his funk.  Much as she was infatuated with him, even she could only tolerate so much whining, an activity Draco was frustratingly proficient at.

Hopefully, once he realised that he was stuck in Gryffindor, his attitude would improve.

If not, well, she’d have to find ways to improve him.  Maybe she should pay a visit to the library and look up some ways to manipulate people…

Libraries were Hermione’s favourite thing.

Oh, sure, learning was amazing, but classrooms could be so stifling.  Hermione hated having the pace of her learning dictated by the slowest members of the class.  In a library, information was at her fingertips, and she could absorb it all as quickly as she wanted.

And now!  Now she had a friend to go to the library with her!  And he actually wanted to go to the library!

It was everything Hermione could have dreamed of.

Hermione realised that her standards for social experiences were not very high.

Harry was nice, though.  He was quiet and generally content to stay out of the way.  Honestly, he was the exact opposite of what she would have expected from someone who had been famous since infancy.  Hermione had tried to get him to talk about his past, but he was really hesitant to bring it up, and she didn’t want to risk pushing her only friend away.

Hermione relaxed as the comfortable smell of parchment and bound leather filled her nose.  She did love libraries.

The pair wandered deeper into the library’s labyrinthine shelves until they reached an out-of-the-way table.

After they sat down, Hermione quickly discovered that Harry was no better at interacting with people than she was.  As the silence drew on, Hermione grew increasingly uncomfortable. She wondered how most people started a conversation.

“So, um,” Harry said, breaking the awkward pause, “What homework do you still have to do?”

Hermione stared at him in disbelief.  “I already did all of the homework. You didn’t do every assignment the day it was assigned?”

“Um… I don’t think most people do that, Hermione.”

That gave Hermione pause.  Was that one of the reasons people called her an overachiever?  She had always thought it was normal to do work right away. After all, it’s easier to relax without deadlines hanging over one’s head.

“They… don’t?  Why?”

“Because most people can’t finish an essay in a single night?  Especially with the amount of material we need to cover for McGonagall’s and Snape’s assignments.  Snape especially likes making us look through lots of different reference books…”

Hermione’s brain was now reeling at the implications of what Harry was telling her.

“Why don’t you just memorise the reference book all in one go so you don’t need to go back to it later?”

Harry’s expression was clearly bewildered at this point.  “Because people can’t- ...You know what, I’ll just forget… all this.  If you’re done with all your work, could you give me some tips on the transfiguration essay?  You’re way better in that class than I am.”

Hermione grinned.  Transfiguration was her best subject.

One hour and several completed assignments later, an older Gryffindor student walked up to their table.

“Hey, why don’t you snakes scram?  I need a place to sit.”

The Gryffindor’s remark was met by Harry’s wand being pointed in his face.

“Shove off.”  Harry said coldly.

The Gryffindor scowled, but left after deciding that their table wasn’t worth the struggle.  Once he was out of earshot, Hermione spoke up.

“Harry!” She hissed, “We’re not supposed to cast spells in the library!”

“Good thing I didn’t cast any, then.” Harry said with a grin.  “I just implied I would cast a spell.  Totally different thing.”

“But it’s against the rules!”

Harry shrugged.  “Again, technically, it’s not.  Besides, you’d be amazed how good bullies are at keeping their behaviour in the bounds of the rules.  If you show resistance, though, then most bullies will leave you alone. They want easy targets, not difficult ones.”

Hermione realised that was as close as Harry had gotten to talking about his past.   It definitely shed a different light on things. She made a note to scour the books she had about Harry Potter (at least, the ones that marketed themselves as nonfiction) for inconsistencies.

Also, she learned how to deal with bullies.   That was nice.

Being Harry’s friend seemed like it would be an interesting experience.

Daphne really hated being Tracey’s friend sometimes.

Daphne’s definition of “sometimes” was “any time Tracey concocted some ridiculous scheme.”

Much to Daphne’s dismay, Tracey schemed quite a lot.

“For the last time, Tracey,” Daphne said, exasperation creeping into her normally neutral tone, “I am not interested in stalking Potter and Granger.  Honestly, just let them study or read or whatever in peace.”

“But Daaaaaaph, we need to keep an eye on them.  What if they’re super powerful or super smart and we miss an opportunity to ally ourselves with them?’

Daphne used her rudimentary occlumency to clamp down on her emotions.  Failing to show emotion kept most people away from her, much to her delight.  It didn’t keep Tracey away, but as she had discovered, nothing could keep Tracey away.

“If you somehow missed the fact that Granger is the smartest student in our year, I sincerely fear for your information gathering skills.”

Tracey pouted.  “Not like that! I mean, yeah, she’s got book smarts, but what if she’s uncovering the lost secrets of magic right now!  We’d have no way of knowing!”

“She’s a first-year, Tracey.  We’re all first-years. I suspect we’ll have plenty of time before she starts unravelling the lost secrets of magic.”

“You can’t deny there’s potential allies there, though.  Granger is a certified genius, and Potter’s performance in practical magic is always one of the best, transfiguration aside.  For all of your iciness, you know the importance of making connections.”

“I don’t deny that they’d be useful allies, but I don’t think stalking them in the library is a good way to go about it.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuugh,” Tracey groaned, “You’re no fun.”

“Feel free to leave.  Please.”

Tracey’s signature cocky grin came back to her face.  “You can’t get rid of me that easily, my fair Ice Queen.”

Daphne glared at Tracey.  “Call me that again and I’ll use you to test my proficiency with freezing charms.”

Tracey’s response to that was to start cackling.  Daphne realised right away that this meant her protest fell on deaf ears.

Well, if Tracey’s plan to befriend Potter and Granger bore fruit, she could see what it would be like to have normal friends, at least.  That would be a novel experience.

Chapter Text

Lilly Moon was beginning to suspect that her relationship with reality was dubious at best.

The only thing she was sure of was that it wasn’t like this before she went to Hogwarts.

The odd occurrences seemed unavoidable, though.  For one, every time someone referred to her, they never referred to her as being in the same house.  The other day, in charms class, the Hufflepuffs all said she was a Slytherin, and the Slytherins all said she was a Hufflepuff.  No one seemed to notice this discrepancy, or if they did, they did not find it odd.

Lilly was also unable to remember which house she was in.  She didn’t remember what the Sorting Hat said to her, or if she was even sorted.  She wasn’t sure where she slept, only that it was in a bed. She was never knew which house table to sit at during meals, so she just hoped no one noticed that she “didn’t belong”.  She couldn’t even tell what colour the trim of her own robes was!

Originally, she wondered if she might be able to deduce her house by looking at her schedule, but that didn’t help her either.  At first, she assumed that since she had charms with the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, she should be in one of those two houses. Except, she was also in history of magic with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.  Thus, her true house remained a mystery.

She really wanted to try and figure this out, but part of her was afraid the she didn’t actually exist.

And if she thought too hard about, she might cease to exist.

Lilly decided that she would rather be on the safe side.  She’d prefer an enigmatic existence to not existing at all.

Harry knew Hermione was smart, but he didn’t think he had an appreciation for how smart she was until he worked with her outside of class.

Harry was no stranger go libraries.  His imbecilic cousin seemed to be chronically afraid of learning, making the local library one of the few places he could use as a refuge.  But while he had been in the library out of a twisted necessity, Hermione was in her element. She moved from book to book with ease, her mind absorbing the relevant information like a dry sponge under a tap.

The girl’s mind was unparalleled.  Her ability to connect ideas and extrapolate concepts boggled his mind.  And that wasn’t even getting into the fact that she. Did.  Not. Forget.  Anything.  Sure, he believed her when she said she memorised the whole reference book, but it was another thing to witness her recall whole sections from the book on demand.

Harry wondered if Hermione had some magical ability that improved her memory and intelligence.  He hadn’t heard of such a thing, but he wasn’t about to write off its existence just because he hadn’t heard of it.  After all, he was far from an expert on magic, having lived his whole life without it.

Having her as a friend was looking to be a good experience.  Harry was smart, but the Dursleys did their damndest to make sure he didn’t show it.  Being free from them for a whole school year with her as a study partner was sure to help his academics. 

Harry turned off the water in his shower and threw on his school robes.  The school robes weren’t required, since it was still a weekend. He would rather not draw attention to himself by wearing muggle clothing, though, especially not the old rags provided by his relatives.

Harry left the dorm room he shared with Zabini while the other boy showered.  Hermione was waiting just outside his room, just as she had the day before. Assuming that this was part of her new routine, he continued walking, Hermione silently falling in lockstep with him.

Harry loaded his plate up with sausages and some toast.  Now that he was able to eat what he wanted, he had quickly fallen in love with the meat products he’d been so long denied.  To his right, Hermione was loading her plate with her typical grains and fruits. Harry couldn’t understand how was able to get enough energy from such light fare.

The sound of beating wings signalled the arrival of the morning mail, though Harry ignored it as he always did.  He didn’t have a subscription to The Daily Prophet , and there was no chance that his relatives would send him anything.  He was surprised, therefore, when Hedwig landed in front of him with a letter on her leg.

“Oh, hey girl, I wasn’t expecting mail.”

Hedwig stared at him and gave a disgruntled bark.

“Well, it’s not like I have anyone to send mail to, you know?”

Hedwig gave another bark and jumped in front of Hermione, much to the ire of the owl that had delivered her mail.  Hermione appeared lost in the note that was attached to her package, so Harry alerted her to Hedwig’s presence.

“Hey, Hermione, my owl has a question for you.”

Hermione glanced up to see Hedwig defending her placemat from the standard mail owl.

“Hedwig’s annoyed that I don’t have any mail to send.  She wants to see if you have any for her instead.”

Harry saw Hermione gaze into his owl’s eyes, wondering if she could sense the intelligence behind them.

“Your… owl is underworked?  Well, sure, it’ll save me the money that using a school owl costs…”

Hedwig’s response was to peck Hermione’s forehead.

“Ow!  What did I do wrong?”

“She doesn’t think you appreciate the offer enough.”

Hedwig barked.

“Also, she wants you to give her some bacon.”

Hermione, evidently baffled by the request, dutifully grabbed some bacon from a platter and handed it to the snowy owl.  Hedwig barked appreciatively, then took to the air, bacon dangling from her beak, leaving a very amused Harry next to a very confused Hermione.

“Can you… always understand her like that?”

Harry shrugged.  “More or less. She’s quite smart, too.  She makes an excellent companion when I’m confined to my relative’s house.”

Harry winced internally.  He had tried to avoid any mention of his “home life”, if the Dursleys’ could even be considered a home.  He’d prefer to avoid the sort of attention that information would inevitably bring him.

Thankfully, Hermione hadn’t pressed him the other times he’d slipped up, and it seemed she had no desire to start now.

Harry finally got around to opening the letter Hedwig had delivered.

“Looks like Hagrid, the groundskeeper, has invited me over for tea this afternoon.  Would you like to come with?”

Hesitation flashed across Hermione’s face, before she replied, “Sure.  Not like we have anything else to do.”

Harry could tell something was bothering her, but he wasn’t going to press her on it.  After all, she had respected his boundaries; it would be hypocritical of him not to do the same.

Lisa Turpin really wished she didn’t have to be involved in this.

Sure, her family had been courting the dark political contingent for a while, but being “persuaded” to take place in Theo’s power grab…  It left her feeling decidedly uncomfortable.

Not because of the politics, really.  She understood her family’s desire to preserve the old ways and ritual magic that so much of the light wanted to wipe out.  And it wasn’t that Theo’s father was a death eater, either. Sure, the death eaters were excessively violent, but it didn’t take a significant study of history to see how often violence got results.  It wasn’t that she thought they were likely to fail, either, though that was closest to addressing her real concern.

No, her concern was that she didn’t know what would happen.  She prided herself on her ability to gather information and plan for contingencies, but there were simply too many unknowns here. 

If it was just Malfoy who left a power vacuum, then they could at least have relied on Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle, all families with history of courting the dark.  As things stood now, though, Slytherin had too many rogue factors, at least in her year. Zabini, Davis, and Greengrass were all from neutral families. Smith was from a Light family, for Morgana’s sake!  And while Potter, Patil, and Granger were all loners, she knew there was no chance of any of them backing their little usurpation.

That left her, Theo, and whatever support they could scrounge from the upper years.  Unfortunately for them, most upper years weren’t interested in throwing their support behind two mere firsties looking to claim the reins.  And with the way she’d seen Smith passing messages to the upper years…

Lisa didn’t know what their odds of success were, and that bothered her more than anything.  Theo cared nothing for this, of course. He was simply focusing on enacting the plan his father had laid out, considering the idea of anyone interfering hilariously implausible.

Lisa hated that most of all, and she knew that someday that kind of arrogance would wipe out his existence.

For now, she’d just play along, certain that this plan would fall apart, and hoping desperately that she was wrong.

Hermione was internally cursing her lack of social skills.

Sure, she now had a friend, but she had no idea how to interact with people, and Harry was just as clueless.

Normally, she would be content to try and figure out how to properly engage in interpersonal interaction with the passage of time, but…

Well, she’d never been able to celebrate her birthday with friends before.

And she’d really like to give it a try.

Especially now that she was apart from her parents.

But she had no idea how to bring it up.  And just casually mentioning it seemed… awkward?

Pretty much every interaction between them had been somewhat awkward, but this one seemed especially so.

Hermione really wished she’d read books on how to interact with friends.  Instead, all of her efforts went into books on how to make friends. 

Knowledge that she never got to use, because she had somehow managed to stumble into a friendship with the only person anywhere near as awkward as she is.

Still, he’d wanted to go have tea with the groundskeeper.  Someone whom he had said was his first friend. (That someone who took him to Diagon Alley for the first time was his first friend was another red flag.  The more she learned about his pre-Hogwarts life, the more concerned she became.) She wasn’t about to let her hesitancy get in the way of his only other friendship.

“Are you alright, Hermione?  You kind of spaced out there.”

That was something both she and Harry had in common, actually.  They both tended to get lost in their thoughts quite a bit. Was that a possible side effect of isolated childhoods?  Hermione was finding it hard to believe that Harry’s childhood had been anything but isolated. The again, the behavioural similarities could be a coincidence.  Maybe she should revisit some of her old psychology books and see what they said about-

“Hermione!”

“What?  Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how we both tend to get lost in our thoughts and was wondering whether our behavioural similarities were the result of similar childhood experiences or if it was purely coincidental and how I should ask my mom to send me some of my books on… What?”

“I’ll never understand how you get so many words out without breathing.” Harry said as he shook his head.

Hermione felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment.  “I hardly think it’s my fault that my mouth struggles to keep up with my brain.”

Harry… giggled at that.  She had never heard him laugh before, let alone giggle.

“No,” he said, “I suppose it’s not.”

“Besides, you have your own quirks.  I hardly think you have room to criticise me over mine.”

No,” He hummed, “I suppose I don’t.  Ah, here’s Hagrid’s hut.”

“How delightfully alliterative.”

That made Harry giggle again.

Hermione realised that she liked getting that reaction out of him.  It seemed like such a delightfully… normal behaviour for people as stunted as the two of them.

They might just get the hang of this “social interaction” thing.

The rapping of Harry’s knuckles against the large door was quickly drowned out the the loud barking of a dog.  Harry’s flinch when the dog started barking did not go unnoticed.

Hermione knew that she was trying to respect his boundaries, but her curiosity was gradually eating away at her.  Her desire to not push away her only friend was at war with her newfound desire to make sure he was, well, happy.  Or at least alright.

The hut’s door opened to the mildly imposing visage of a twelve-foot tall man.  Hermione didn’t think she had truly appreciated just how tall he was when they were being lead to the boats on their first day here.

“‘Ello, ‘Arry.  Glad ta see ye come round.  Come in, take a seat.”

Hagrid began shuffling around the large house, putting the kettle on and leaving the two of them a plate of what he called “rock cakes”.

Hermione’s suspicion of any food named after rocks was quickly confirmed when a tentative nibble on the “cake” proved it to be as unyielding as its namesake.

“I know that he’s nice,” Hermione whispered to Harry, “but if these cakes are anything to go by, I’m kind of afraid of what he’ll serve as tea.”

Harry grimaced, but nodded.  “He is nice, and while the food is… questionable, I do feel like I owe him.  After all, he got me away from my relatives and gave me Hedwig. I would feel awful if I didn’t repay the man who got me my first birthday present.”

Okay, that was both alarming and sobering.  Alarming that he hadn’t received a birthday present until he was eleven, and sobering because it but her birthday woes into perspective a bit.  At least her parents had sent her something.

Now all she wanted was some kind of acknowledgement of her birthday.

This meant that Hermione had to face her greatest challenge yet: figuring out how to casually mention something that was important to her.

She had no idea where to even start.  This might take a while.

Meanwhile, an article about a break-in at Gringotts sat unread on the table.

Neville had no idea why he was in Gryffindor.  He wasn’t courageous. The only nobility he had was that he got from coming from a noble family.  He was ready to beg the Hat to put him in Hufflepuff, but it didn’t even let him get a single word in.  It just rambled to itself about what was in his head then shoved him into the Lion’s Den.

(That the Gryffindor common room was literally called “The Lion’s Den” merely added to the irony of the situation)

He was none too fond of his roommates, either.  Dean and Seamus were boisterous and loud, and Neville’s quiet personality felt drowned out by their presence.  Draco Malfoy was, well, Draco Malfoy. The two had been brought to several pureblood social events by their guardians, and Draco had never endeared himself to anyone during those times.

That left Ernie Macmillan.  Ernie was stalwart and opinionated, but surprisingly mellow until something riled him up.  If Neville was going to make any friends in his dorm, it would be with him.

He could only hope that their similar personalities meant they had similar interests.

Neville found Ernie resting in their dormitory, looking through some of his notes.

“Hey, uh, Ernie, I was wondering if you’d like to… hang out?”

Ernie seemed a bit taken aback by the suddenness, but he did agree.

“Sure, why not?”

Huh, who said making friends had to be hard?

Susan was finding out that making friends was hard.

She didn’t get along with any of the Hufflepuff girls in her year.  Despite her initial attempts to befriend Sophie Roper, she was an acquaintance at best.  Neither Sally-Anne Perks nor Sally Smith had anything in common with her, and seemed put off by her passionate personality at times.  (She wondered why the Sorting Hat put both girls named Sally in the same house. It seemed cruel.)

That left the boys in her year.  There was no way she was going to be friends with Crabbe or Goyle.  She had standards. Finch-Fletchley was a bit too stuck up for her taste.

That left Wayne Hopkins and Ronald Weasley, both of whom were engaged in a game of chess near the fireplace.

Those two were basically her last hope for friends she shared all her classes with.

So no pressure.

The real question was whether she should try and butter them up first or just force her way into a friendship.

Forcing her way in was really more her style.  And, well, if they didn’t like her real personality, then she wasn’t interested in being friends with them anyways.

She may be lonely and desperate, but she wasn’t about to fake her personality for companionship.  She wasn’t Pansy Parkinson, after all.

“Hi,” Susan told them, “I’m bored.  Mind if I hang out with you two?”

Ron’s face contorted into an expression of pure bafflement, while Wayne’s showed a more subdued confusion.  The pair looked at each other and Ron shrugged.

“Sure, I guess.”

Hah!  Friendship acquired.  Susan realised that it was possible to strong-arm her way into anything if she approached it right.

Harry’s desire not to strong-arm his way into Hermione’s issues was increasingly at odds with his need to know what was bothering her.  She’d had an antsiness about her all day, and it was setting him on edge. Eventually, he decided that he’d had enough, so he changed their route and headed into one of the dungeon’s many unused classrooms.  Harry’s burning curiosity was briefly distracted by the wandering thought about why more than ninety percent of Hogwarts appeared to be unused classrooms. Though, the frustration returned once the door was closed and his gaze settled on Hermione.

“Okay, Hermione, what’s been bothering you.  You’ve been antsy and nervous all day, and even if we’ve only been friends for two days, I can tell when someone’s bothered by something.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed.  “As if you’re one to talk. What’s bothering you?  I saw you flinch when Hagrid’s dog barked, I notice your hesitancy to talk about your life before Hogwarts, and I notice your refusal to mention your ‘relatives’ in any vaguely kind way.”

Harry flinched back at that.  He hadn’t realised his distaste for his “home”-life had been so evident.  Then again, Hermione was exceptionally smart, and scarily observant for someone whose social ineptitude rivalled his own.

“That’s, um, I just…” he stammered.

“See, that’s what I thought.  I knew well enough to respect your boundaries, regardless of my own selfish wishes.”

Oof, that was a low blow.

“Look, I’m sorry, I was just worried.  I’ve never had any friends before who haven’t been pushed away and I don’t want the same thing to happen here.”

“You’re not the only one who’s never had friends before, you know.” She said sadly.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  “What was bothering you, Hermione?”

“I’ve never had any friends to celebrate my birthday with before…”

“I haven’t either,” he said before realisation hit him. “Oh, wait does that mean…?”

“Yeah.  It’s today.”

Oh.  OH. That explained the package she got this morning as well.

“Well then, Happy birthday, Hermione.  I’m sorry that I didn’t get you anything, not that I would have known what to get you…”

She smiled earnestly for the first time today.  “Thank you, Harry, and I usually like books.”

Harry scoffed.  “As if I could find you a book that you haven’t read.”

“My parents always seem to manage.”

“They’ve known you your whole life.  I’ve only known you for two days.”

“Then I’d say you have a lot of catching up to do, Mister Potter.”

“Cheeky little…” He muttered as a grin broke out across his features.

As the pair finished their route back to the common room, Harry spoke up again.

“Can we make a promise to each other?  I think we both need someone to confide in.  Let’s try and be as honest with each other as possible, so if we need to vent or whatever, we have a safe output.”

Hermione smiled again.  “That sounds good. Confidants?”

Harry grinned back.  “Confidants.”

Chapter Text

Theodore… really wished he felt more confident about this plan.

That his co-conspirator, Lisa Turpin, also lacked confidence in the plan didn’t help.

Not that he expressed his nervousness.  If he lacked confidence in his success, then he could definitely not let it show.  The upper years would tear into them at the slightest sign of weakness.  He kind of wanted to tell Lisa that he agreed with her, but, well, he really didn’t want her to back out on him.

This would be so much easier if the Hat hadn’t scrambled the sorting!  If he could put together a united front of first years, then the older students would easily capitulate.

Alas, the Hat was insane, and he was stuck with several light families, and several notoriously stubborn grey families.  And Turpin.  At least Turpin was nice.

He’d have to thank her for putting up with this later.

Theodore walked into the common room.  Seeing the smug expression on Smith’s face didn’t make him feel better about his odds.

Well, now or never.

Theo stepped into the centre of the room, and took a minute to ensure his voice wouldn’t waver.

“Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment?”  Theo waited until the idle murmur of conversation died down.  “Good, listen, with Malfoy going to Gryffindor and Snape leaving us be, Slytherin house lacks the united front that it has relied on for so long.  Given the… oddities… surrounding the sorting, it’s more vital than ever that Slytherin maintain itself against foes both within and without.”

Well, that was the speech his father prepared.  Now he just had to wait for the whole plan to go down in flames.

Flint and Selwyn moved closer to him… and that’s it.  No one else.

Damn, Theo didn’t think that Smith would flex that much influence.

“Well,” Smith stated, “what makes you think that you should be the one to dictate what Slytherin house should do?  Perhaps this change is welcome for some of us?  Perhaps some of us are tired of playing politics on our parent’s behalf, citing rehearsed speeches, cozying up to people just for our parents’ sake?”

Merlin, did Smith come up with this plan on his own?  He probably wouldn’t have taken a jab at the fact that Theo’s speech wasn’t his own, otherwise…

Then again, he could just be a hypocrite.

“Well, what would you know about Slytherin, Smith?” Theo retorted. “Your family has been Hufflepuff for generations.  Perhaps you should leave the operation of this house to those who have legacies here.”

“The Smith family has a far greater legacy that yours, Nott.”

Theo found himself wishing he was sorted somewhere besides Slytherin.  Stupid house and its stupid constant politics.

“But, perhaps a simple show of power would be fine?  What say we duel, Nott?  I win, we let the individuals of the house decide their own course, away from this ‘united front’ that everyone insists is so important.  You win, and, well, I’ll leave that to you.”

Theo didn’t trust that.  But he also couldn’t turn down the request without losing substantial face.  Face, that… wouldn’t really matter if he lost.  Hopefully?

“Fine, I accept.”  Theo replied.

Time to see what Smith had planned.

Theo’s wand was up in an instant.

“Contego!  Somnium!  Somnium!”

A foot and a half wide shield sprung up in front of Theo, followed by two invisible sleeping hexes.  Hexes that Smith easily dodged before returning fire.

“Conscientia Arescentem!”

Of course Smith had to break out some convoluted spell that was probably family magic.

A huge white jet shot from the boy’s wand, enveloping and shattering Theo’s shield in an instant before hitting him full force.

Theo tried to return fire, but whatever that spell was had him fading fast.

Damn it.

Darkness claimed him.

He wasn’t able to see Zacharias collapse moments later with a severe case of magical exhaustion.

Daphne sat on her bed, enjoying the silence, brief as it was destined to be.

She could never count on silence lasting, especially not when she shared a room with Tracey.

“Daph!  Guess what!?  Something amazing has happened!”

And there it was.

“What.” Daphne replied flatly.

“Nott tried to make a power grab, and Smith stood up to him and bested him in a duel!”

“That’s not too unexpected, save Smith being able to handle himself in a duel.  I don’t see how that’s ‘amazing’, though.”

“But that’s not the interesting bit!  Flint was pissed off since he was one of the only people who stood with Nott, and tried to hex Higgs when he laughed.  Long story short, it’s total anarchy out there!”

Oh dear Morrigan, if Tracey was talking in that tone, then it meant she had a scheme.

Daphne kissed her quiet time for the next week goodbye.

“C’mon!  Let’s go get in on the action!”

Okay, perhaps more than a week.

Harry idly thumbed through a book on wands.

It had nothing to do with his classes, of course, but it was very interesting nonetheless.

Learning how different woods imparted different affinities to their wands, and how the cores would impart different properties depending on what wood they were paired with.

It was the most interesting bit of magical theory that he’d found thus far.

Of course, he’d probably have to review it a lot to remember the book’s contents.  He wasn’t Hermione, after all.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Hermione sat down next to him.

“You know,” she started after unpacking her bag, “I think I hate Hogwarts sometimes.”

Well that wasn’t what he expected her to say.

“Oh?  What makes you say that?” he replied.

“You know that one corridor in the dungeon?”

“You mean the really long, straight one that looks like it goes on forever?  Of course I do.  I should hope that every Slytherin would know about it, given its proximity to our common room.”

“Harry, I walked down that corridor for half an hour.  I don’t think it has an end.”

Harry shrugged.  “Seems like the kind of stuff you’d find in a magical castle.  Honestly, better an endless corridor than a bottomless pit.”

Hermione sputtered in disbelief.  “That’s it?  You just accept that this castle has a corridor which, to all observations, has no end!?”

“It’s magic.  Questioning it will only get us so far.”

“I guess that explains why wizards lack common sense.” Hermione mumbled, “But still, that’s not the worst part of my story.  I decided to look at some of the rooms around where I stopped.  Most of them were just empty classrooms, but one of the doors took me to the grand staircase.  On the twenty-sixth floor.  No stairs, no passage, the door just opened up from the dungeon corridor to the grand staircase.”

Harry paused.  “Hogwarts has a twenty-sixth floor?  How?  The astronomy tower is the highest point in the castle, and we access it from the eighth floor.”

Hermione began looking smug.  “That’s the thing.  The astronomy tower is only the highest point from the outside of the castle.  Just like how that corridor doesn’t seem to have an end, the grand staircase doesn’t seem to have a top.  Even if none of those floors are visible on the castle exterior.”

But if… How…?

“I think,” Harry said finally, “that I feel a headache coming on.”

“Good, now you know how I’ve been feeling since I found out.”

“Professor Snape, please open up!” a female voice pleaded from outside his quarters.

Severus specifically recalled telling his prefects that unless someone was dying, he was not to be bothered.

So either someone was dying, or his orders were being ignored.  Neither one boded well for his mood.

His lips curling in disgust, Severus opened the door to see one of his fifth year prefects.

“Miss Farley,” he drawled, “who is dying?”

“Well, uh,” she fidgeted under his gaze, “no one, sir, but-”

“I believe I said that ‘I am not to be bothered about internal Slytherin house affairs barring someone’s inevitable death’, did I not?”

“Well, you did, but-”

“If no one is in immediate danger of dying, then I trust you to solve the problem with the other prefects.  Now leave before I drown your spare time in detentions.”

“But professor!  Two weeks ago, Nott made a power play, and Smith stopped him and now the whole house is total anar-”

“I don’t care what petty politics the students are playing on their parent’s behalf!  Leave!  Now!”

Severus slammed the door shut and silenced it for good measure.  Honestly, just what made her think that this was an appropriate excuse to get him involved.

Parvati watched the ongoing mayhem from the edge of the common room.  She was honestly impressed at how quickly the common room had gone from “hanging out location” to “open warfare zone”.

Parvati didn’t care about the actual events of the constant duels and battles.  She was just interested in who was attacking whom.  It was a great source of gossip.  Apparently, lots of Slytherins were nursing grudges, and taking advantage of the chaos to attack the targets of their ire.  If she’d known she’d be getting this much juicy gossip, she’d have been dying to get put in Slytherin house.

Much to her surprise, the fighting never left the common room.  Even Potter and Granger, the house’s two biggest outcasts, were still sticking together with the other snakes, though they never had any kind words to exchange with anyone but each other.  Slytherin was still holding on to its typical “united front” facade, though the facade’s cracks were becoming increasingly visible to outsiders.

She did still have homework she needed to do, though, so, much as Parvati would like to stay and watch the chaos for a while, she decided to grab her books and headed up to her dorm.  She did miss being able to study in the common room, but it was hardly a good idea to get lost in a book when one was liable to get hit by a stray spell.

“Turpin.” she addressed her roommate as she entered their dorm.

“Patil.” the other girl responded in reply.  “Enjoying the mayhem?”

Parvati shrugged.  “It’s been informative if nothing else.”

Turpin’s eyes narrowed.  “Informative how?”

“There’s a lot you can learn from who’s attacking whom.  From there, it’s a simple matter of listening in to determine motive.  For example, did you know that Higgs, Warrington, and Pucey all hated Flint’s leadership of the Quidditch team?  They think his decision to push the boundaries of the rules with his brutal playstyle is harming their odds of being able to play professionally.”

“That’s… interesting.  …So what are you playing at?”

“Huh?”  Parvati reeled.

“I don’t buy that you shared that information out of the good of your heart.  What do you want in exchange?”

Parvati’s brain ground to a halt as she processed the implications of what Turpin had just told her.

Parvati had always considered gossip to be its own reward.  After all, what better way to relax than to discover and share other people’s secrets?  But this…

The way Turpin had phrased it, she could make a career out of this.

The gears in Parvati’s brain kicked into overdrive, sorting out which people tended to give her the best information, what tidbits she had and hadn’t yet shared, figuring out the best way to spread the word the she had information for a price…

Oh, she could totally make a career out of this!

And she could collect her first payment right now!

“Well,” Parvati replied, a smile breaking out across her face, “I could use some help with Snape’s potions essay…”

“Hey, Daph.”

Oh no.

Nothing good was ever involved when Tracey was using that voice.

“Daaaaaaaaaph!”

Here she goes.

“Yes, Tracey?”

“Do you think we could befriend Potter if I seduced him?”

Oh, Morrigan, why was Tracey always like this?

“Tracey, he’s eleven.  You’re both eleven.  Best case scenario, you just make him really uncomfortable.  Worst case scenario, you give him a panic attack and terrify him.”

“So, no good then?”

“Definitely no good.”

“Fine.” Tracey pouted.

Oh, thank the Morrigan, she actually backed down.  That’s a first.

“Malfoy still hates me, apparently.” Harry said.

“Really?” Hermione replied, “I would have thought he’d be over the whole sorting thing by now.  That was, what, a month ago?”

“Thereabouts, yeah.”

“So what did he do?”

“Challenged me to a midnight duel in the trophy room.”

“Please tell me you didn’t accept?”

“Of course not.  I did consider accepting and then alerting the teachers to a student planning on being out after curfew, but I feel like that kind of stunt would reflect poorly on my reputation.”

“How very Slytherin of you.”

Harry grinned.  “I try.”

It was hopeless.  Draco was stuck in Gryffindor.  His father had pulled every bit of influence he could manage (some at the expense of his reputation), but no matter what he tried, father was unable to get the Hat to back down.

So here he was, a snake among lions.

Every part of him wanted to mope for a while, but Pansy, insufferable woman that she was, insisted that doing so made him unattractive.

As if a Malfoy could ever be unattractive.

Draco wallowed in his thoughts for a while before he took to wondering what to do next.

He couldn’t well network in Slytherin.  He’d heard whispers that the house was in chaos, and they’d never want to interact with a Gryffindor even if they weren’t.

He internally shuddered at referring to himself as a Gryffindor.  His housemates were starting to get to him.

If Draco wanted to network, he’d have to do it in his own house.  That was a repulsive thought.  What were his options in his year, anyways?

Lavender Brown was from an old and respectable family, though the girl was a bit… vapid.  He already had Pansy following him around, so Brown was out.

Megan Jones’s only family fame was being the extended cousin of the famous Quidditch Player.  While Draco loved Quidditch, he wasn’t about to befriend Jones over such a distant relation.

Abbot was from another old family, but she had befriended Dunbar, and Draco wasn’t about to go around consorting with mudbloods yet.  He still had standards.

For that reason, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were also out.  That only left him with…

Longbottom and Macmillan.

Well, they may both be blood traitors, but their families’ legacies exceeded his own (not that he’d ever admit that).

Now he just had to figure out how to cozy up to them…

Gradually, he came up with an idea.

He could pretend to be remorseful for all of those times he’d called Longbottom a squib.  He could say that he’d “seen the error of his ways” without specifying what ways he’d seen the error of.  Yes, and then when they were friends, he would subtly persuade them away from their blood traitor ways and convince them of the truth of blood purity.

All he had to do was gain their trust.

So, first he would have to apologise, and then…?

Well Crabbe and Goyle followed him around a lot, so Draco guessed that following Longbottom and Macmillan around a lot would work.

“Excuse me, heir Longbottom?”

Draco decided that a formal apology would be best.  Etiquette was always appreciated, after all.

Seeing that he had the boy’s full attention, Draco continued.

“I wish to… apologise… for any past insults I’ve made towards your person.  I’ve come to realise that some of my views are flawed.”

Longbottom just looked shocked.  “Uh, sure, thanks Draco.”

Hmph.  Well doesn’t that just figure.  He went through all of the formal motions, and Longbottom just addressed him casually, first name and all.

Well, the apology was accepted, so now he just had to tag onto these two until they had a solid friendship.  Then he could begin phase two of his plan.

Father would be so proud of his cunning.

Damnit, damnit, damnit.

Everyone had ignored him until now, but now, between his befriending Hermione and the cracking of Slytherin’s public facade, everyone wanted to meet the stupid “boy-who-lived”.

Stupid fickle public opinion.  Harry was perfectly content being ignored by his peers.  Why couldn’t they just continue to do that?  He and Hermione had started acting as abrasively as they thought they could get away with when any would-be fan approached them, and it still wasn’t keeping everyone away!

Of course, the person he was speaking to now wasn’t someone he wanted to drive away, just keep at a distance for a while.  That was even harder than driving people away.

“Look, Ron, I understand your desire to continue to be friends with me, but I can’t just ignore the fact that you isolated yourself from me for a month and a half after my sorting.  I’ve heard what you think about ‘slimy snakes’, and honestly, I’ll need time to believe that you aren’t another person trying to get close to me for being the boy-who-lived.  It’s not a title I’m fond of.”

“Er, yeah, no problem mate.”

Well, Ron looked suitably humbled, but not off-put, so Harry would consider that a success.  He watched Ron regroup with Wayne and Susan before he turned around and joined up with Hermione.

“You handled that better than you’ve handled most fans.” she remarked.

Harry shrugged.  “I’m not really not sure if he’s a fan or not.  Besides which, it was nice to have someone be friendly to me on the train.  The only other magical person I’d interacted with before I met Ron was Malfoy, and he didn’t make the best impression.”

Hermione laughed.  “No, I can imagine he didn’t.  He doesn’t seem like the sort to make any impression but a bad one.”

Harry laughed along with her.  He had grown to enjoy the idle bits of banter they shared.

“Hi,” and older Ravenclaw said, “I’ve always wanted to thank you for what-”

“Shove off.”  Harry interrupted.

Harry didn’t stick around to see her reaction.

“Not nearly as nice with that one, Potter.” Hermione teased.

“They can’t all be winners, Granger.”

“At this rate, we might start to get a reputation,”

“Good, maybe then they’ll finally leave us alone.”

“Why,” Neville gulped, “Why is Malfoy following us around?”

Ernie looked behind them to see Malfoy a few steps behind them, as he had taken to doing recently.

“I have no idea.  Maybe he thinks we’re friends now?”

“That’s… That’s a weird thought.”

“You know what the best part about this ‘Slytherin civil war’ thing is?” Tracey asked.

“No, I can’t say I do, though I also cannot say I understand what goes on in your head.”

Tracey ignored Daphne’s rebuke.  Daphne was always bristly like this when Tracey was trying to have fun.

“The fact that we can now act with total impunity outside the house.  Slytherin’s rules felt restrictive at times, you know?”

“I’m not sure that level of freedom is something that someone like you should have.”  Daphne deadpanned.

Tracey laughed at that.  Daphne could be frigid, but her sarcastic humour was her best characteristic.  Tracey could never get enough of it, even if she was the target of said humour more often than not.

“You should know by now that there’s a lot of difference between what should be and what is.”

To those who wish to end a fight quickly and nonlethally, no spell is more useful than Conscientia Arescentem, the Fading Awareness curse.  While magically taxing even for the most powerful adult wizards, the spell is large enough that even the fastest foes can have trouble evading it and has a built-in shieldbreaker to mitigate an opponent’s defences.   Indeed, the only downside of the spell is that the unconsciousness takes several seconds to fully kick in, but that is an advantage in disguise, as it means that the effect of the curse cannot be countered with a simple Rennervate the way a standard stunner could be.  The knowledge of the countercurse is as well hidden as the curse itself, making it a guaranteed way to make sure than an enemy stays down.

• Excerpt from the Smith family grimoire

Chapter Text

Harry had never liked Halloween.  It was always a day when Dudley got to go out and obtain obscene amounts of candy, while he was forced to stay “out of sight” in his cupboard.  All-in-all, it was far from an ideal experience.  His opinion of the day did not improve upon his return to the magical world, whereupon he learned that it was the day that his parents died.

His opinion of the day dropped even further when he learned that the wizarding world celebrated said day in remembrance of his defeat of Voldemort.

Which, as it happened, was a feat that he didn’t remember accomplishing and that cost him any chance of having a normal childhood.

So no, Harry did not like Halloween.

Of course, since it was the anniversary of the day he “defeated” Voldemort, he expected even more well-wishers and boy-who-lived fans than usual.

Harry was never more grateful that Zabini never said anything to him, ever.  A silent roommate was one of the best things he could have asked for.  And man, was Zabini ever silent.  If they weren’t required to use incantations to cast spells, he didn’t think he’d even know what Zabini’s voice sounded like.

He left his dorm room to see the familiar sight of Hermione leaning up against the wall, nose buried in a book.  What had started as Hermione’s desire not to be left alone had since become a comfortable routine between the two of them.  They enjoyed each other’s company, and didn’t enjoy the company of others.

“Get ready, Hermione.  I suspect it’s going to be a trying day.”

Harry would later muse just how correct that suspicion was, even if it wasn’t for the reasons he expected.

“It’s hopeless.” Neville muttered to himself after he – yet again – failed to cast the levitation spell.  “I’m hopeless at magic.”

Malfoy scoffed at Neville’s self-deprecation.  “Probably because you’re using such  garbage wand.  Couldn’t your grandmother afford to get you a new one, Longbottom?”

Neville frowned at the wand in his hand, the small scratches and abrasions from years of wear and tear evident on its surface.

“It was my dad’s wand.  Gran said that he was a great wizard and that if I use it, I should be great, too.”

“Well that’s rubbish.  Get yourself a new wand.  I’m sure McGonagall would be fine with a brief excursion to Diagon to get a replacement.”

“I dunno, Draco, Gran’s scary…”

“So is McGonagall, and if you won’t go to her, then I will.  I won’t imagine she’ll be happy that one of her students is sabotaging himself.”

Neville shuddered at the prospect of an angry McGonagall tracking him down.  He only had to live with his Gran for two months of the year, while he was around McGonagall for the remaining ten.

“I’ll talk to her about it after classes today.”

“You’ll talk to her about it sooner.” Draco said.  “I’d hate to have to go through the effort of telling her myself.”

“So would I…” Neville muttered.

“So,” Minerva began, “we’re two months into the new year, and I think it’s high time we check in with each other again.  Making sure no one’s falling behind academically, preventing students’ personal crises when we can, and, perhaps most importantly, see how our new students are settling in.  I think the fact that we continue to do that last one is even more vital given the… oddities that happened at the welcoming feast.”

Minerva did not feel the need to specifically mention the sorting.  It would be unprofessional to mention the outlier students by name, after all.

“Pomona, anything to mention?”

Left unstated was the fact that Hufflepuff received the most outlier students.

“Miss Bones was a bit disgruntled and isolated for a while, though she’s since settled in with Mister Weasley and Mister Hopkins.  Mister Weasley himself acclimated to the house surprisingly well, given his outburst after the Hat declared him a Hufflepuff.  Misters Crabbe and Goyle, though, well, their academic prowess leaves much to be desired.  They’re performing well enough thanks to the support of their peers, but I question how well they’d be able to perform outside the communal study groups in my house.”

“My Ravens have settled in quite cleanly.” Filius stated, though he’d gotten the least outliers, so that was to be expected.  “Miss Patil, Padma, that is, has been in a bit of a tuff over her sister going to Slytherin, though she’s not let her academics suffer as a result; No other students stand out.”

Minerva was surprised to hear that.  Miss Bulstrode was not among those anticipated for Ravenclaw, and to hear that she was having no issues was surprising.  Still, professionalism prevented her from naming Miss Bulstrode specifically.  That sort of disapproval was just as much of an issue as favouritism could be.

“I see,” Minerva said, “My Lions have settled in fairly well, all things considered.  Miss Parkinson frequently accosted me about Mister Malfoy’s ‘silly brooding’, but I was forced to inform her the ‘the attractiveness of her future betrothed’ was not a concern I could address.  Mister Longbottom has struggled academically, though he came to me earlier today and informed me that the wand he was using was not his own.  I have since mailed Augusta, and plan on getting him a new one before November is out.  Now, Severus, how are your Slytherins doi-”

“They’re fine.” Severus cut her off.

“Are you sure about that?” Pomona asked.  “I’ve heard rumours that-”

“They’re.  Fine.” Severus snarled.

Minerva sighed internally.  Sometimes, that man could be far too stubborn for his own good.  If by sometimes, one meant “every waking moment and a good majority of the sleeping ones as well”.  Unfortunately, house matters were supposed to be handled by their head of house, so Minerva was powerless to do anything in this instance.

Harry watched in mild envy as Hermione got her levitation charm right on the first try.  Charms wasn’t even her best subject!  Harry was one of the best practical students in their year; it wasn’t fair that Hermione was still better at picking up new spells than he was half the time.  The only classes he could consistently outperform her in were defence, and flying.  In all others, they were tied or he was outdone by her.

Harry managed to get the spell on his third attempt.  He was still convinced that Hermione had some kind of brain encyclopedia that let her memorise how to do every spell before she even attempted it the first time.

“Oh, well done Miss Granger, Mister Potter!” Flitwick’s squeaky voice rang out.  “Five points to Slytherin, each.  Could you please help some of your peers?  Mister Potter, if you could help Misters Crabbe and Goyle;  Miss Granger, if you could help Misters Hopkins and Weasley.”

Harry did his best to guide Crabbe and Goyle through the motions, but it was a challenge.

“You’re trying to cast with your wand, not beat something to death with it.” He tried explaining to them.  The two simply gave him a blank look before waving their wands like they wanted to stab their feathers with them.  Harry tried to explain it to them several more times before he gave up and requested Flitwick’s presence.  As Harry wandered back to his seat, he saw a livid Ron giving an oblivious Hermione a nasty glare.  He’d have to get better about that if he still wanted to be friends.

Ron was trying very hard not to stomp as he left with charms classroom with Susan and Wayne.  He knew Granger was smart, and he was fine with that, but he really wished she wasn’t constantly rubbing it in.  She was always one of the best with spells.  Sure, Harry wasn’t far behind her, but he was the boy-who-lived!  Of course he’d be good with spells.

He needed to vent his frustrations.

“Merlin, I can’t stand her!” he complained.  “Bloody brainiac always has to show off how smart she is.  It’s no wonder the Hat put her with the other snakes!  Potter probably only hangs around her since she can do his homework for her.  She’d be insufferable as an actual friend.”

The sound of a soft sob behind him followed by a bushy head of hair running past made him realise he may not have been as quiet as he’d initially wanted to be.

Ron was then bowled over as a student with familiar black hair and green-trimmed robes shoved him over in pursuit of the crying Hermione.

Ron turned around and saw discomfort in Wayne’s eyes and scorn in Susan’s.

“That… that was pretty mean, Ron.” Wayne said.

“I know,” Ron huffed, “I just…”

“Well,” Susan said, “I think you just lost your chance to get in with Potter.  Those two have been pretty protective of each other for weeks.  Insulting her like that probably ruined anything you might have been able to build.”

Ron was immediately hit with guilt.  He knew he was being mean, but he also really didn’t plan on her hearing his venting.  Her studious nature was so annoying!  She even took notes in Binns’ class!  No one took notes in Binns’ class!  Hufflepuff had apparently just been duplicating the notes from his class for the past century!

“I… I should apologise to her, shouldn’t I?”

Susan’s eyes narrowed.  “You should apologise regardless of whether or not she’s Potter’s friend, but I think you may have trouble getting near them.  Potter’s been known to hex people who annoy him, and you probably just landed yourself at the top of his list of acceptable targets.”

Oof.  Well, he’d try to apologise, but he sure as hell wouldn’t push the issue if it got him a wand in his face.

“Hermione, get back here!”

“Go away!” She cried.

“No!  God, Hermione, I’m not letting you just run off and wallow in your sorrow.  Believe me, that doesn’t work!”

Harry didn’t have time to kick himself for slipping up about his past again.

Hermione was no longer running, but she had yet to turn to face him.

“C’mon,” he said, “let’s go to the library to get away from people.  I have some food stored in my trunk so we can skip the feast and the crowds that come with it.”

Hermione fell back into the familiar, albeit currently uncomfortable, stride with him.

“Thanks…”  She said.

“No problem,” he replied, “just be sure to do the same to me if I ever start to get broody, alright?”

She laughed, a welcome sign that he was approaching this well.  He was never totally sure with social situations, after all.

“Ugh!” Tracey exclaimed, “This is hopeless!  Potter and Granger are too reclusive!  How are we supposed to befriend them if we don’t even know the first thing about them!”

“I do find myself amused that you continue to make me a part of this, Tracey.”

For once, Tracey wasn’t in the mood for Daphne’s sarcasm, so she just huffed in reply.  She had no idea what to do, a situation that she was finding maddening.  What good was being a schemer if she didn’t know how to start making a scheme?

“Excuse me,” an upper year Ravenclaw asked, “Did I hear you say that you needed information?”

Tracey regarded the intruder with suspicion.  “Who wants to know?”

“Ah, I am but a Gatherer, but I believe our great leader can help you.”

What?  Did someone start a cult when she wasn’t looking?

“Uh, if you can tell us about Potter and Granger, then yeah, sure.”

“Follow me, then.”

As the duo of snakes followed the raven, Daphne leaned over and whispered in Tracey’s ear.

“You really need to learn how to say no, sometimes, Tracey.”

The Dark Mistress of Knowledge regarded her throne room.  She had extended her tendrils as far as she could manage, as now, all of Hogwarts was within her grasp.  Soon, she would reach beyond, and hold all knowledge of the world and its denizens in her iron grip.  As she mused on her ambitions, the door to the room opened, drowning out the eerie light of the room’s bluebell flames with the fiery light of the dungeon corridor.

“Gatherer,” She spoke, “Whom have you brought to me today?”

“Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass, Dark Mistress.  They want information on Potter and Granger.”

“I see.  And did you discuss… payment… with them?”

“No, Oh Great Mistress of Knowledge, I decided that a price for this knowledge would be better left to your discretion.”

“You decided well, Gatherer.  Leave us so I can discuss terms with our honored guests.”

Her Gatherer bowed deeply before scurrying from the room, closing the door and letting her bask in the eerie light of the bluebell flames once again.

“Welcome,” she told her guests, “to the nexus.  All information in Hogwarts passes through this room at some point, and to those who are willing to pay the cost, a portion of that knowledge can become theirs.”

“Um, yeah, sure.”  Davis fidgeted beneath The Dark Mistress of Knowledge’s imperious gaze.

“You seek information about Potter and Granger.  Information on them will be pricier given their… reclusive nature.  But, alas, this is your first time in my domain, so it would be wrong to charge you for knowledge when you have no way to confirm the veracity of what I can tell you.  Know this: The Dark Mistress of Knowledge does not lie.  I will offer you a discount on information your first time, but except no such luxuries in the future.  Two galleons and nine sickles, please.”

Davis stared at Greengrass until the blonde sighed and pulled out the money.

“Excellent!” The Dark Mistress cackled.  She clapped her hands and another student came out and collected the duo’s payment before moving back into the sideroom he came from.

“Potter and Granger are loners.  The two are highly protective of each other, and distrustful of anyone else.  The two had rather isolated childhoods, but my Gatherers have yet to learn any specifics.  My reach is grand, but even it has limits.  The two are studious, spending most of their free time in a table deep in the library.  Granger is the best in her year at magical theory, while Potter excels at the practical.  Granger’s best field is transfiguration, while Potter has an intuitive grasp of combat spells.  Potter has a sense of justice, but is tempered in his responses, and reluctant to act in any way that draws attention to himself.  He is also rather annoyed with his 'boy-who-lived’ title, and is distrustful of those who approach him about it.

The pair were both raised in muggle household unaware of magic.  They are not likely to easily accept any intrusion into what they consider a comfortable status quo, so if your mission of befriending them is to succeed, you may have to use your more forceful side.”

“Uh, how’d you know about my ‘mission’?”

“The reach of my Gatherers is vast, and even you are not exempt from my gaze.  Now, unless you have further business, then leave.”

The Dark Mistress of Knowledge watched the pair of Slytherins leave her domain.  All was going according to plan.  She would start out charging money for her information, but eventually, she could start bartering knowledge for more knowledge, expanding her wares with each new trade.

Daphne and Tracey walked down the hallway in an uncomfortable silence after their encounter.  Once Tracey was reasonably sure they were out of earshot, she decided to address the erumpent in the room.

“Daphne, why was Parvati Patil dressed in an oversized cloak and calling herself ‘The Dark Mistress of Knowledge’?  Did I miss something?”

“Tracey, you forget that my only metric for social interaction is you.  I am the absolute worst person to ask about this.”

“Oh, yeah.  …What about your sister?  You interact with her, right?”

“My sister?  My sister who idolises you and thinks that I am ‘boring’?  She’s basically a miniature you in training, and I fear the day you are both in Hogwarts at once.”

“Oh yeah.”  Tracey grinned.  “Gotta love Tori.”

“I just wish she had better taste in role models.”

Another silence fell over them while Tracey mulled things over.

“You know what, Daphne?  I think I’ve been overthinking this.”

“I’ve been telling you that from that start.  You just never listened.”

“I keep trying to come up with some convoluted scheme to befriend Potter, like getting a life-debt to him, or faking getting a life-debt to him, or forging a fake marriage contract to make him spend time with us.”

“All of which were bad ideas.”

“But I’ve been overlooking the simplest solution.  I could just befriend them the same way I befriended you.  That technique does have a one hundred percent success rate, after all.”

“Tracey, you did it one time.”

“And it worked.  Therefore, one hundred percent success rate.”

“I hope you do befriend them, if only because you’ll be someone else’s problem for once.”

“You can even offer to teach them pureblood etiquette and all that other crap your parents made you learn.”

“Do I get a say in the offer of my services?”

“Well, you could say no, but if I fail to befriend them, then you’ll have to put up with me.  By yourself.  For seven whole years.”

Daphne sighed.  “Pureblood etiquette training it is, then.”

With their homework long since completed, Harry and Hermione had begun spending their time in the library reading books on their favourite subjects.  Harry was reading a book focused on unconventional applications of magic in combat, while Hermione was reading up on advanced principles of transfiguration

He did realise that in continuing to study what were already their best subjects, they weren’t really improving their weaknesses, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care.  Combat magic was just so interesting, and it held a practical aspect that was fascinating to him.  This book in particular held his interest because it demonstrated the usefulness of thinking outside the box.  Combining a water conjuration with a freezing charm was obvious, but water conjuration with a flame spell to create a wall of steam?  Or using the water as a conductor for a lightning spell so it would be able to bypass shields?  All of the feats he’d found so far were way above his skill level, but the sorts of strategies used had an ingenuity that Harry was determined to cultivate for himself.  There was no telling when he’d need to defend himself against an opponent.  He was still only eleven, and if someone was after him, odds are that they would be stronger and faster.  That meant his best advantage was learning how to be smart.

His stomach took that moment to growl, and the hunger he’d been pushing out of his mind came back with a vengeance.

Well, there went any chance of further reading being done.

“Hey, Hermione.”  He called out.

“Hmm.” She hummed, eyes not leaving her book

“I’m getting hungry.  Let’s head back to the common room.”

“Hmmm…” She mumbled.

Of course she lost herself in her book so badly that she couldn’t hear him.  She did this all the time.  Harry briefly considered making a comment about burning books to snap her out of her daze, but that seemed rude, and far too likely to result in bodily harm if it actually managed to get her attention.  She could be so far absorbed in her book that she wouldn’t even process his words.

So Harry simply held a piece of parchment in front of the page she was reading.

Not every solution to a problem had to be complicated, after all.

“What?  Hey!  Harry!  What gives?”

“It’s getting late, and we haven’t eaten since lunch.  Much as I’m sure it pains you, we should leave the library.   You can continue memorising the entire thing later.”

“Well, I probably could have gone for a few more hours if you hadn’t distracted me.  But fine, I suppose continuing on an empty stomach could compromise my memory.”

“God forbid.”

“Yes, yes, now let’s go.  I can read on an empty stomach, but I’d rather not listen to your sarcasm on one.”

It was odd, being in the corridors with no one around.  Harry had long since gotten used to the sight of the school’s halls, in both their bright and busy daytime hours as well as their dark and empty nighttime hours.  This was an odd mix, with the halls being well-lit by the still-burning torches, but empty of all the students who were no doubt at the feast.  It was such a difference that Harry didn’t notice anything was off until the smell hit him.

“Ugh!  What the hell!”

“Language!” Hermione coughed.

A large grunt in a hall to their side was the second indicator that something was wrong.  A massive, lumpy, grey, and hideous humanoid stood stupidly in the hall before it roared.

“A mountain troll!  Why is there-” Hermione started to say as the troll swung its club.

Harry’s wand was in his hand before he knew it and the words left his lips before he fully understood what was happening.

“Flipendo!”

The vibrant orange light of the knockback jinx flew through the air and knocked the troll’s club into its torso.

“Run!”  He yelled at Hermione.

Hermione thankfully didn’t need to be told twice and was in motion quickly.

“What’s the fastest way to the common room?”

“No time!” She yelled back.  “This way!”

“Wait, why?”  Harry looked down their current hall and saw an endless distance with doors and torches every ten metres.

“Why are we in the endless corridor?”

“There’s an easy escape!  Now be quiet and let me count the doors!”

Harry really hoped she didn’t plan on using that twenty-sixth floor route.  He didn’t think he had the stamina to run for… however long she had said it had taken.

Thankfully, Hermione stopped after a minute of running and spun around.

“Distract it for a minute!”

“What?  Why?” he tried to ask before a roar from the troll pulled him back into combat mode.

“Flipendo!  Fumos!  Incendio!”  The spells flew from his wand as reflex took over.

Hermione really hoped she didn’t go too far down the hallway.  Harry’s questions had pulled her from her thoughts for a second, and if she had undercounted, then the door she needed was probably behind the troll.

Hermione opened what she hoped was the right door, and found…

A classroom in which all of the furniture was made of glass.

Useless.  And also dangerous.  Apparently the castle hadn’t heard of OSHA standards.  Hermione tried the next door down.  It had a solid stone wall behind it.  If there was a secret passage, she didn’t have time to figure it out.

Crap, had she really passed it?

She tried the next door down, and…

Oh, thank Merlin, that was it.

Dodge, duck, roll, cast, cast, cast.

Whatever a troll’s skin was made of, it absorbed most spells.  As such, Harry found himself limited to indirect damage and distractions.  The smokescreen charm was giving him cover, and it was easy to levitate and knockback pieces of rubble into the troll’s body.  God knows the troll was leaving enough of them lying around.

“Harry!  Through here!  Now!”

Hermione’s voice pierced through the instinctual fog on his mind, and with one final spell volley for good measure, he chased after her.  He ran through the door, and found himself…

Coming out of the first door in the endless corridor.

“Why doesn’t this place make sense!”  He exclaimed.

“Quiet!”  Hermione hissed as she gestured to the smoke cloud some thirty doors down the corridor.  “The troll is still in down there!  Now let’s get back to the common room before it realises it’s been duped!”

As they began walking, Harry felt himself losing energy as he came down from his adrenaline high.

“We’re lucky to be alive, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are.”  She responded tersely.  “Honestly, how does a troll even get into a school?  Aren’t there supposed to be wards to stop that from happening?”

“Um… I guess?”

Hermione shook her head.  “You really should read Hogwarts: A History.  It’s very educational.”

Harry waved his hand dismissively.  “Sure, get it for me for Christmas or whatever.  I still need to find a book you haven’t read for your gift.”

Hermione gave a faux-indignant huff as they neared the common room.  To his surprise, everyone was already inside, and there were several tables of what looked like food from the feast around the room.

“Um… Did we miss something?  Why is the feast being served as a buffet in the common room?”

“Yeah.”  One of the prefects replied.  “There’s a damn troll loose in the school.  Quirrell came into the great hall shouting about it, so Dumbledore sent everyone back to their common rooms.  The elves must have brought the food back so no one would starve.  Where the hell were you two?”

“Trying to escape the mountain troll, mainly.”

The prefect stared at him in disbelief.  “You’re kidding me.”

Harry shrugged.  “I don’t care if you believe me, but neither of us have eaten yet, and I had to engage the troll in frontal combat for a few minutes while Hermione found us a way out.”

“I did not take several minutes!” Hermione protested.

“Adrenaline does weird things to your sense of time, ‘Mione.”

Hermione gave him a glare.  “Call me that again and you’ll be my target for practicing stinging hexes.  Now come on, let’s eat before the food is gone.”

On the far side of the common room, Tracey was giddy with excitement.

“See, Daphne!  I told you they were special.”

And thus, Daphne realised that she was doomed to never have a normal life, or even a semblance thereof.

Chapter Text

Severus did his best to nurse his traditional post-Halloween hangover.  He knew it wasn’t healthy to drink himself near a coma once a year, but the loss he felt still hurt all these years later.

He no longer harboured any illusions about his romantic compatibility with Lily.   Yes, he did love her, but he sincerely doubted that any serious relationship between them would have worked out.  Even knowing that, though, her loss still cut deep.  He hadn’t ever had any meaningful friendships outside of the one he botched with her.  The longing he had felt for ages had long since been replaced with a sorrowful regret that she passed on with so much bad blood between them.

He cursed the Dark Lord’s name once again, though this time for a less personal reason.  Much as the personal loss of Lily Evans, his only true friend, hurt, it was nothing compared to how the magical world suffered from the loss of Lily Evans, potions and charms mistress, and veritable genius.

Severus was one of the most skilled potions masters in the world, and Lily’s skill at the subject outstripped his by leaps and bounds.  He owed most of his knowledge to her, and he even published several papers based on discoveries she never got around to making public.  Of course, all those papers were published anonymously, with all profits going to the Lily Potter foundation for Muggleborn students.  He wasn’t a monster, hard as he found it to believe most of the time.

And speaking of Potters…

Severus was not happy about it, but he was finally prepared to admit that there was a slight possibility that perhaps Harry Potter was not an exact duplicate of the boy’s father.  Maybe.

Admitting that made his hangover worse.

It made his refusal to have anything to do with his house seem petty.  Which, frankly, it probably was.

Harry Potter hated his fame in a way that James Potter never would have.  He often isolated himself in the library with Granger, his only friend.  Seeing a lonely half-blood boy with a muggleborn as his only friend, well, it managed to hit Severus uncomfortably close to home.

Harry Potter was rubbish at transfiguration, which was James Potter’s best subject.   Harry Potter was also skilled at potions.  He was no Lily Evans, but he was leagues better than James Bloody Potter.  The boy’s skill at combat spells seemed to come out of nowhere, but, as Professor Raven once told him during his fifth year, heredity and magic was not always as straightforward as one would hope.

Really, of all the new students in his house, he would never have guessed Davis would be the top potions student of their year.  That girl was a wildcard through and through.

Looking back on everything in the past two months, Severus was forced to admit that distancing himself from his house was looking increasingly petty.  Probably because it was petty.

Severus’s head throbbed in pain again.

He was in no state to address his house now, but he could manage it later this evening, he supposed.  Things couldn’t have gotten too bad, right?

“Go.  Away.”

Ron tried not to flinch at Harry’s cold tone.  He knew he’d seriously bollocksed up any chance of friendship with Harry after his temper got away from him, but it was still a shock to see the cold indifference in the other boy’s eyes.

“Look, I just-”

“I don’t like bullies, Weasley.  I’ve dealt with them my whole life, and I’m disappointed to see you act like one.”

“I know-”

“If you knew, maybe you shouldn’t have said something in the first place.”

“But-”  Ron tried to speak for the fourth time, only to find himself cut off by a length of wood pointed at his face.

“Walk away, Weasley.”

Well, Ron promised himself that he would make an earnest attempt to apologise, but only if it didn’t get him a wand in his face.  The time to back down was clearly now.

As he walked past one of the hallway’s many alcoves a voice sounded from behind him.

“I told you that wasn’t likely to work, Ron.”

Ron whirled around.  “Susan?”  He asked.  “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you muck up your social life, apparently.  You really should get a hold of that temper of yours.”

“Hmph.”  Ron crossed his arms.  “You didn’t have to come here to mock me.”

Susan laughed at that.  “Me telling you that you need to reign in your temper is based on personal experience.  The other girls in my dorm dislike me.  You and Wayne are the only ‘puffs in our year that I’ve yet to put off.  You know what they say about us redheads, after all.”

“Um, no?”

“We have bad tempers?  Because the red hair makes us fiery?”

“…And I thought Fred and George told bad jokes.”

Susan harrumphed.  “No one appreciates my sense of humour.”

“How’d it go?”  Hermione asked.

“It’s hard being mean.”  Harry replied.  “I really don’t dislike Ron.  He’s a nice enough bloke, but I just…”

“Don’t see him as a positive influence?  See him as lazy and entitled?  Can’t respect his lack of intelligence?”

Harry gave Hermione a look.  “That’s much harsher than anything I would have said.”

Hermione sniffed.  “Perhaps his insults cut deeper than you thought.  I have no fondness for that boy.”

“I don’t dislike him, but I’d rather not hand out second chances if people won’t change.  Ron was already on thin ice after the sorting.  I suppose I understand your points, though, even if I don’t agree.  Well, what’s done is done, I suppose.  Now let’s go; I’d rather not attract Snape’s ire by being late to class.”

“Gatherer, give me an update on our attempts to secure additional information networks.”

“The ghosts are a dead end, Dark Mistress.  Apparently, they refuse any sort of espionage, as that ‘interferes too heavily in the world of the living’.”

“Disappointing.  What of the portraits?”

“The portraits are bound by the wards to only report to certain people.   We’ve identified the headmaster as one such person, but have yet to determine any of the others.  Several people within our command are looking to see if there are alternative ways to crack the ward scheme in our favour.  We’re currently trying to negotiate with the Weasley twins, as we suspect that their knowledge of the school may be the result of such ward-cracking.”

“That will be most impressive if it pays out.  See to it that I am not disappointed.  Now, who’s next on the list?”

“Several students wanting to purchase the answers to Binns’ tests.  Thus far, our use of anti-scrying charms has ensured that everyone interested needs to purchase their own copy.”

“Excellent.  Bring them in.”

Harry and Hermione were doing their best to finish their potions essay.  Earlier in the term, Harry thought that Hermione was being obsessive by insisting on doing assignments the day they were assigned.  He was forced to admit that she had a point, though.  It was extremely liberating to have all of the schoolwork done when the weekend rolled around.  Not that said freedom affected their schedule much.  Harry and Hermione spent most of their free time in the library, the same place they did most of their homework.

Harry surreptitiously pulled his wand out of his pocket as he heard someone approaching their table.  Threatening would-be well-wishers at wandpoint had become an unfortunately common occurrence, but Harry was growing increasingly tired of being accosted.

Pointing his wand in the direction of the intruder, Harry spoke.  “I’m haven’t spoken to anyone else about being the ‘boy-who-lived’, and you aren’t about to be the first.  Leave.”

Normally, people made themselves scarce at that point.  He was not prepared for the response.

“Aw, is that any way to talk to your new friend, Potter?”

Harry looked up.  “Davis?  What do you want?”

“I want to be friends.  We’re friends now.”

Harry shared a glance with Hermione.  “I thought friendship was supposed to be mutual.  Don’t we get a say in this newfound ‘friendship’?”

“Nope!  I said we’re friends, therefore we are friends.  You can’t escape me that easily.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Greengrass cut her off.

“Whatever you’re about to say, trust me, it won’t work.  She did the same thing to me years ago and I still can’t get rid of her.”

“So, what?”  Hermione said.  “We have no say in the matter at all?”

“Absolutely none!” Davis exclaimed.

“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you, Davis?” Harry asked.

“You have no idea…” Greengrass muttered.

“Please,” Tracey said, “since we’re friends now, I think we should be on a first name basis.  Don’t you agree, Harry?”

Harry saw Daphne mouthing “just agree” behind Davis’s (or rather, Tracey’s) back.

Harry sighed.  “Sure, whatever.”

“Great!  And since you’re friends with me and I’m friends with Daphne, Daphne’s also your friend.  And since friends help each other, Daphne here has offered to tutor you in pureblood customs and etiquette!”

“What makes you think we need that tutoring, Dav- …Tracey?”

Tracey’s grin spread even wider, if that was possible.  “Because you two were both raised in muggle households with no awareness of our world.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m observant, Harry.  I know how to watch people for cues and tells.”

“Also, because you paid Parvati for info.”  Daphne added

“Daaaaaph!  You weren’t supposed to tell them that part!  …Anyways, Daphne was taught all of these stuffy pureblood rules from birth, so she’ll be a great tutor, probably.”

“I started when I was seven.”  Daphne interjected.

“Same thing.  Anyways, Daphne will be tutoring you out of the good of her heart.  Also, you guys made a mistake in your potions assignment.  Bubotuber pus is caustic, not acidic.”

Hermione’s gaze shot to the parchment in front of her.  “How did you…?”

Tracey just winked.  “Who knows?  Maybe I’ll tell some of my good friends later on…  Anyways, have fun working out their tutoring schedule, Daph.  I have some other schemes I need to take care of.  Ta ta!”

As Tracey left them behind, Daphne slumped down at the table.  “Given how excitable that girl is, it’s easy to forget that she was put in Slytherin for a reason.”  She said dejectedly.

Theodore decided that he hated politics.  He hated having to pretend to like people that were “useful”.  He hated having to “network”, and “trade favours”, and just… everything!  He hated it!  Sure, he agreed with his father about having to protect wizarding culture from outside influence, but Theo didn’t want to be on the front lines of that conflict!  He wanted to be a healer, for the powers’ sakes!  Not some powers-be-damned politician!

But no, his father specifically requested that he play politics at school because “that was what true Slytherins did”.  He was finding that he cared less and less what “true Slytherins did”.  Most of the his house hated him after Smith showed him up, mostly for acting on such a poorly thought out plan.  A vast majority saw him as some foolish upstart, and Flint, one of the few who supported him, was now livid that he’d lost face.

Maybe he should take a page out of everyone else’s book and just start hexing people who looked at him funny in the common room.

“You have one task to complete before I begin teaching you etiquette.”  Greengrass began.  “You two need to memorise this.”

She dropped two enormous tomes on the table, the resulting thud reverberating through the nearby shelves.

“I’ve never seen this book before…” Hermione commented, looking at the cover, which read “A Pureblood Genealogy”.

“It’s hard to obtain.  If the library has any copies, then it’s likely to be in the restricted section.  Self-updating books are expensive and tricky like that.”

Harry saw Hermione’s brain building up a flurry of questions for later.  Just as it looked like she was about to start asking, Greengrass cut her off.

“Let me know when you’re done memorising the book.”  Greengrass said, opening a novel from her bag to its bookmarked page.

They had to memorise it?  Harry stared anxiously at the enormous tome.  Well, thinking about it wasn’t going to do him any good.

Harry began reading through.  It didn’t take him long to realise the pureblood genealogy was complicated and… rather inbred.  Harry flipped through several of the pages, trying to get a feel for each family.  It looked like this huge family called the Black family became especially inbred in the past two centuries, and some small family called the Gaunts looked to have bred themselves out of existence. 

The fact that there was so much interbreeding, though, well, it made the task of memorisation much harder.  It wasn’t as simple as memorising a family tree and much as it was memorising a complicated web.  This was made even more complicated by the fact that people didn’t have children at the same ages, making for lots of weird generational gaps.  Harry tracked down his own family, and discovered that he and Malfoy’s mum shared a set of great-grandparents, despite the difference in their ages.  (Being related to Malfoy was an odd enough thought on its own without the odd generation stuff mixed in)

Harry did his best to memorise the book’s information, but there was so much information and everyone’s ancestry was so mixed up that he found himself giving up after half an hour.

“Greengrass-” He started.

“You may call me Daphne.” She interrupted.

“Daphne, then,” he said, “Do you really expect us to be able to memorise this whole thing?”

“I memorised it.”

“How?”

“Dedication and a bit of rudimentary occlumency.”

“…What’s occlumency?”

“Internal mind magic.  It’s focused on the organisation and protection of the mind.  It helps protect the mind from intruders, allow better control of one’s emotions, and improves focus and memorisation.  I used the latter aspect to help me memorise the book.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed.  “If you used some special mind magic to help memorise this book, which I doubt you did in a single sitting, then why do you expect Hermione and I to do so in one sitting without said magic?”

“I didn’t.”

“You… didn’t?”

“Of course not.  This was just a test of your patience.”

“…Oh.”

“You failed that test, in case it wasn’t clear.”

Harry groaned.  “I got that, thanks.”  He said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome.”

“That was- …nevermind.”  Harry said before muttering under his breath, “Why are all the weird people drawn to me?”

Ten minutes later, Hermione put down the book.

“Done.”  She announced.

Harry was unsurprised by this, of course.  He’d seen her memorise huge books before.  Daphne, however, regarded Hermione’s proclamation with more uncertainty.

“You memorised it.  That whole book.  In forty minutes?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered for her, “She does this kind of stuff all the time.  The reason she’s so good at homework is because she’s memorised all of the reference books ahead of time.”

“Prove it,” Daphne said, “Name all of the living lines descended from the founders.”

“Ravenclaw only had one daughter with no children of her own.  Slytherin has no living heirs with the extinction of the Gaunt family.  Hufflepuff’s has several remaining lines, but the Smith and Dumbledore families are the most prominent.  Gryffindor sired to many heirs to even bother counting.”

“Fair enough.  Now name everyone disowned from the Black family within the past century.”

“Sirius Black was never formally disowned, but he was banned from the family dwellings.  Andromeda Tonks was cast out for marrying a muggleborn.  Dorea Potter was cast out for marrying a Potter.  Cedrella Weasley was cast out for marrying a Weasley.  Indus Black was disowned for refusing to kill a squib he sired.”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed again.  “You got every one of those correct down to the details.  Granger, what goes on in your head when you memorise books?”

“Oh, well when I was younger, I wanted to be able to remember a book perfectly at any time, and eventually, I started visualising a library in my head.  If I focus on the library while I read the book, then I can remember the book perfectly later.”

Daphne stared at Hermione in disbelief.  After a moment of staring, she let her head fall to the table.

“And to think,” she said, “I wanted to hang out with you two because I thought you would be normal friends.”

“Hey!”  Hermione snapped.  “What’s wrong with what I do?”

Daphne’s head shot up.  “What’s wrong?  What’s wrong!?  What’s wrong is that you have somehow managed to build a Morrigan-damned mindscape, completely by accident!”

“A what?”  Harry and Hermione asked simultaneously.

“A mindscape is… It’s the most advanced achievement of occlumency possible.  It’s a magical mental construct that gives perfect memory and recall.  It’s also extraordinarily challenging to make.  Few masters of the art ever make one.  And you.” She turned to Hermione, “Made one.  By accident!”

Hermione didn’t seem to know how to respond.  “Um… Sorry?”

Daphne just groaned and let her head fall back to the table.

“Why is my life like this?” She moaned.

Tracey was giddy with excitement as she made her way back to the common room.  It had taken a lot of persuasion and money on her part, as well as some info from Parvati, but she had convinced the Weasley twins to provide her with one of their experimental self-duplicating fireworks.

Tracey walked into the common room, lit the firework with a whispered Incendio, and dropped it behind one of the occupied sofas.  She settled herself with her back to the wall to watch the mayhem as it started.  The moment the firework lit, several students reflexively raised shields, and others fired in the direction the noise came from.  Within moments, the room was in total chaos.

The fireworks were ingenious in their design.  What started as a simple spinner had divided into mortars, rockets, and firecrackers, each one splitting further.  Fred and George said that this prototype should last for around an hour, so everything would be interesting for quite a while.

It was moments like this that made all of her planning and scheming worthwhile.  Moments where she could just watch everything dissolve into absolute anarchy.

Tracey adored the atmosphere of chaos, and took a few moments to just soak it in.  It was beautiful.

Daphne, Harry, and Hermione took this moment to enter the common room.

“C’mon guys!”  She greeted them.  “Let’s have some fun and get a piece of the action.

Severus approached the Slytherin common room.  He’d tried to find a way to save as much face in the process, but he decided it was better to bite the bullet and deal with his… absence sooner rather than later.

He composed himself in front of the common room entrance before opening the door.

Whatever Severus expected when he opened the door, it wasn’t to be blasted with conjured smoke.

He began clearing the smoke away, and the scene inside the common room was utter chaos.

Potter and Granger were taking cover behind a couch, trading spells with several students who were likewise taking cover behind furniture.  Davis was casting fire spells at numerous fireworks around the room, causing them to duplicate, and Greengrass…

Greengrass had Smith magically pinned to a wall, her wand pointed between his spread legs.

“Glacius!”  She yelled, freezing the wall between his legs.

“Next time you call me the ‘Ice Queen’,” She continued speaking, “I won’t miss.  Don’t forget this lesson, Smith.”

Severus had seen enough.  He cast a silent Sonorous to amplify his voice and yelled to get their attention.

“What the devil is going on here!?”

Snape grabbed one of the prefects and dragged her out of the common room.

“Now tell me that wasn’t fun while it lasted?”  Tracey asked the others.

She was met with three expressions of disbelief.

“So much fun…” She hummed blissfully, ignoring her friends’ ire.

“Is she always like that?”  Harry whispered to Daphne.

“Yes.”

“And we’re stuck with her now?”

“Welcome to the club.”

“…Great."

“Miss Farley.”  Snape drawled.  “Do you know why you are here?”

Gemma Farley shifted on her chair, her discomfort at being under Snape’s glare clearly visible.

“No, sir.”  She intoned as neutrally as she could manage.

“Six weeks ago, you came to my office against my orders to inform me that there was an issue in Slytherin house.  Does this ring any bells?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When I walked into the… mess in the common room, you were the only one present who was not involved in the fighting.  You were also the only person who saw fit to try and inform me about the goings-on of the house I was supposed to be in charge of.  In light of these events and your prefect status, you are the only person I can trust to give me an unbiased accounting of what happened in my absence.”

“Thank you sir.”  Gemma felt confident enough now that she began to straighten her posture.

“So… What is the situation in Slytherin house?”

Gemma thought through all the ways she could reply.

“It’s a shitshow, sir.”

Snape sighed.  “I was afraid of that.  Give me all the sordid details.”

Chapter Text

“So, Fred 1,” one twin said to the other, “how goes our task?”

“Disappointingly slow, Fred 2.  Getting past the dog, or ‘cerberus’, as it’s officially called, was surprisingly easy once we knew the trick.  Who would have thought that muggle myths held a semblance of the truth?”

“Indeed.  The Devil’s Snare was also surprisingly easy once we were no longer caught by surprise.  Damn thing threw us back into the dog’s lair the first time.”

“The keys, though, have proven surprisingly tricky.  Neither of us have seeker reflexes, and those keys are a right deal more ferocious than bludgers or snitches.”

“So, what do you suggest, George 2?”

“I see two options, George 1.  Either we find someone to help us…”

“Which would risk exposing someone else to our secret operation of getting into as much trouble as possible.”

“Or we try and hone our seeker skills.”

“We’re rather regretting letting Bill and Charlie handle seeking duties every time, aren’t we?”

“Indeed, brother.  Well, better late than never; let’s try and catch some practice snitches at our next opportunity.”

As Harry and Hermione entered the Great Hall that morning, Harry's attention was immediately drawn to the different atmosphere in the room.

"What's going on?"  He whispered to Hermione.  "Why is everything in here so… tense?"

Hermione shrugged.  "I'm just as out of the loop as you are, you know."

"Right.  Given how you act in class, it's easy to forget you actually don't know everything."

"Prat." She muttered as she began loading her plate up with waffles and strawberries.

As Harry munched on his sausages, his eyes surveyed the room.  Most of the room's tense atmosphere seemed to be focused on the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, and a few of them were in a uniform, despite the fact that it was the weekend.  Though it didn't look like a standard uniform, either, which just raised more questions.

"There you are!" Tracey's energetic voice all but shouted.  "I can't believe you two left without us!  What kind of friends are you!?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.  "The kind who were roped into a friendship against their will?"

"Details, details.  So, are you guys excited for today?"

"Yeah, what is going on, anyways?  I can tell that people are very tense, but neither Hermione nor I know what's going on."

"Wow, you guys really are out of the loop.  You see, today is the day of the greatest realisation of the schools ridiculous inter-house rivalry: the Gryffindor – Slytherin Quidditch game!"

"What's Quidditch?" Hermione asked.

Tracey looked gobsmacked.  "Neither of you know what Quidditch is?"

"Uh, Ron tried to explain it to me on the Hogwarts Express, but I honestly found his explanation pretty hard to follow.  I know that there are several different roles and that it's played on brooms, but he went on too many tangents for me to honestly follow the rest of what he was saying."  Harry explained.

"He's not a very coherent person."  Hermione mumbled under her breath.

Harry jabbed her with his elbow.  "Play nice!"  He hissed.

"Alright!" Tracey said.  "Here's how it works!"

One extremely convoluted explanation later, Harry spoke up.  "Well, that was slightly more comprehensible than Ron's explanation."

"I'm sorry," Hermione interrupted, "but you mean to tell me that in a sport based mostly on teamwork, there is a role that requires no coordination with other team members, and their actions are worth fifteen times the actions of the other team members, and their actions end the game!?"

"Correct." Daphne said, speaking up for the first time that morning.  "And that is exactly why Quidditch is dumb."

"It does sound kind of dumb…" Harry admitted.  "Or at least horribly unbalanced."

"There are other variations of the game that are less stupid." Daphne continued.  "Quodpot is played without seekers or snitches, and the game ends on a timer.  Some teams in New Zealand have also started playing a variant in which the seeker is able to act as an extra chaser when not following the snitch, and the snitch is worth ten percent of their team’s accumulated points, rather than a flat one-fifty."

"That sounds much more sensible," Hermione said, "even if it's even more convoluted."

"Wizards do seem to love being convoluted." Harry admitted.

"If you spoilsports are done being lame," Tracey interrupted, "then we should get ready to go.  It's the first game of the year, and our house team is playing, so I'm requiring you to go.  You need to be exposed to Quidditch at least once."

Harry was impartial, but Hermione groaned.

"Do we have to?" She complained.  "I don't even like Muggle sports, let alone wizard ones with stupid rules."

"Yes, you have to.  Be thankful that I'm not making you get dressed up in some stupid 'team spirit' style outfit."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of that.  "Fine, but I reserve the right to complain as much as I want."

Tracey waved her off.  "That's basically what it's like any time I drag Daphne to a game.  What's a little more whining?"

“This is stupid.”  Hermione mumbled.  “I could be in the library studying, but no, instead I have to be out in the frigid Scottish autumn watching a bunch of people play with balls in the air…  Stupid sports games and their stupid ubiquitousness.  I was hoping to escape sports when I left the muggle world but the wizarding world is just as dumb about it…”

“Is she normally this vocal when she’s frustrated?”  Daphne asked.

“No,” Harry replied, “normally she just gets all broody for a while.  She doesn’t usually mutter while she does so.”

“She must really hate sports.”

“She probably hates Tracey for making her attend a sporting event, as well.”

“It’s a good thing Tracey doesn’t care whose ire she’s drawn at any given time, then.”

Harry laughed.  “You know, Daphne, you’re pretty nice when you’re not being all bristly and off-putting.”

“I could say the same, Potter.”

“You can call me Harry, you know.”

“I’m well aware that I can."

“I am able to identify a non-answer when I hear one, you know.”

“Glad to know that you’ve got a bare minimum of wits about you.  You may make a better verbal sparring partner than Tracey at this rate.  You’re already less annoying than her.”

Harry glanced over at the hyperactive brunette.  “I think that’s somewhat faint praise.”

Daphne smirked.  “Good to see that you’re learning something, even if it’s not etiquette.”

Harry groaned.  “Etiquette is so boring, though!”

“It’s important.  Now, stop your complaining; We’re here, and I suspect Tracey’s about to start monologuing about Quidditch.”

As if on cue, Tracey turned around in the stadium entrance and began speaking.  “I hope you guys are ready for this.  The Gryffindor-Slytherin matches are supposed to be really cutthroat.  This should be a great example of the sorts of chaos that can result from putting two teams of people who hate each other in the air with flying cannonballs.  I certainly look forward to it.”

“So, what do you think?”  Tracey whispered in Harry’s ear once the game was in play.

“Honestly, the game is pretty fascinating to watch, even if I think some of the rules are dumb.”

“It’s pretty interesting to see what you can learn about people by watching them in a game.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, so Tracey continued speaking.

“Look at the Weasley twins, for example.  The two pretend to be the same person almost all the time, but in here, you can see that one of them is clearly sporting a more aggressive playstyle.  From this, I can assume that the two of them play up the ‘identical twin’ behaviour for their own amusement, but they are, in fact, different, even if only slightly.”

“They’re highly coordinated, though.”

“Any good pair of beaters is highly coordinated.  And I’m sure that even if they aren’t exactly the same, they still have the advantage of knowing each other better than most siblings do.”

“The Slytherin team is clearly having cohesion issues, though even I could have predicted that.”  Harry commented.

“Yeah, Pucey and Warrington are basically leaving Flint out of most of their plays.  None of them are very happy with each other.”

“Really?”

“Haven’t you seen them hexing each other in the common room.”

Harry shrugged.  “It’s been hard to keep track of who’s mad at whom, honestly.”

“You’re missing out on some juicy stuff, then, Harry.”

“I think my life has enough juice in it, thanks.  Now, what’s going on with the only players who matter?”

“Higgs is a decent seeker.  His eyes are good, but he’s not good at a lot of the dangerous seeking moves that high end players use to succeed.”

“…Seriously?  Why is this sport allowed at school if it’s dangerous.”

“Wizards lack common sense.”  Hermione butted it.

“I mean, that’s the only explanation I can think of that justifies the snitch being worth fifteen goals.”  Harry said.

“Hmph.”  Tracey pouted.  “Y’all are just haters.”

“So who’s the Gryffindor seeker?”  Harry asked.

Tracey squinted at the field.  “I think it’s the blonde kid shouting and gesturing wildly at Wood.  I’m pretty sure he’s new, but I have no idea what his name is.”

“McLaggen.”  Hermione butted in again.

Tracey shot her an incredulous look.  “I thought you hated sports.”

Hermione sniffed.  “It’s not like there’s much else to do in this frigid November weather.  Besides, half of the stuff the commentator’s been saying are complaints about the guy.  The other half are slanders against our house.”

“Yeah, Jordan’s not too fond of our house.  If it weren’t for the fact that McGonagall secretly finds it funny, he’d never be allowed to commentate.”

“So we’re stuck here watching two teams hindered by the incompetence of a few of their players fly around each other until someone catches the magic golden ball and wins the game?”  Hermione asked.

“Well, sure, it sounds dumb when you phrase it that way.”  Tracey said.  “Besides, that Laggen fellow is almost certainly not going to catch the snitch.  He’s way too busy trying to lecture the rest of his team on how to play the game.”

“So the outcome is a foregone conclusion, then.  Why are we even here?”

“Because Tracey likes to torment us.”  Daphne spoke up for the first time since the match started.

Tracey pouted again.

“It’s dumb.”  Daphne defended.  “Honestly, they took something as fun and exhilarating as flying and made it unbearable.  I wish Hogwarts had a broom racing team like Beauxbatons.”

Harry perked up.  “That does sound fun, and a lot less ridiculous.”

Daphne gave a rare grin.  “Come by Greengrass manor this summer and we can see if your flying skills really are all that.”

Harry grinned back.  “You’re on.”

“That was an awful showing.”  Draco complained.  “We should have had their team to rights, but not only did our seeker fail to catch the snitch, he hindered the whole team.  He should be taken off the team and replaced with someone who can do the job right!”

“Did you have anyone particular in mind, Draco?” Ernie asked tentatively.

“Well, I would be an excellent seeker, but stupid Dumbledore won’t let first-years join the team.”

“Well, Quidditch is dangerous, you know-” Neville tried to reason.

“I bet if I asked father, he could put some pressure on Dumbledore to let me join.  That old fool owes us that much at least, since he refused to help fix my sorting.  Father could even help out our team by getting some new brooms for us.  I’m sure that a full set of Nimbus 2000’s would help sweeten the deal…”

“I don’t think Oliver Wood would take kindly to bribes, Draco…”

“Well, it’s not a bribe.  The brooms go to the team either way, but it helps put me in their good graces when I actually try out.  Consider it practice for the real world, since father always tells me that it’s basically the same in politics.”

“Are you even a good seeker?”

Draco scoffed.  “I’m a wonder on a broom.  The Gryffindor team should be honoured that I’m even trying out.  Really, I don’t even belong in this house, you know.”

Neville held in a sigh, but only barely.  “So you’ve told us, Draco.  Many times.”

Sensing another rant about the Hat incoming, Ernie and Neville exchanged a glance and bit their tongues.

As if on cue, Draco began rambling.  “That stupid Hat thinks it’s so smart, sorting all the students wrong.  Once my father figures out how to get rid of the thing, he’ll have it destroyed with fiendfyre.  That would teach the dodgy thing right…”

“Well that was a colossal waste of time!”  Hermione complained as they left the pitch.

“Hey!  To be fair, the point margin was pretty narrow.  It’s rare for a school game to have a team win by only a double digit margin.”  Tracey defended.

“That’s why the game is dumb!”  Hermione shrieked.  “The Gryffindor team was playing better, but since Higgs caught the snitch, he was able to overcome their seventy point lead and still win the game by a large margin!  It’s totally absurd that this is a professional sport!”

“Have some team spirit, Granger.  We won, after all!” Turpin scowled as she walked past their group.

Hermione scowled back at Turpin.  “I’ll have team spirit when it’s about something important.  If Slytherin wins the house cup, I will be all for celebrating, since the house cup actually makes sense!”

“This really set her off, huh?”  Daphne asked.

“It seems so.”  Harry replied.  “Like I said, I’ve never seen her like this before.”

“It’s nice to see her so passionate.”  Tracey said.  “We should try and coax this side of her out more often.”

Harry shot Tracey a look.  “I’d rather not deliberately try and send my best friend off on tirades.”

“I’m with Potter-”  Daphne started.

“I told you to call me Harry.”  Harry muttered.

“-deliberately setting Granger off doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“Fine.”  Tracey huffed.  “Looks like all my good friends are abandoning me, so once again, I’ll have to scheme on my own.”

Daphne shot Tracey a look.  “Keep it clean, Trace.”

“Oh, wow!  You actually used my nickname!  I guess I’m finally breaking down your barriers, after all!  My mother will be so pleased to know that I’m finally cracking your frosty facade.”

Daphne sighed as the group fell back into silence, Hermione’s continuing rant against Quidditch notwithstanding.

“…And honestly, sporting events just cause people to lose their minds.  I swear, if I find out that wizarding sports fans riot the same way that muggles do, then I’ll…”

Harry concluded that having friends was a weird experience.

A few days after the Quidditch game, Albus sat in his office doing parchmentwork.  He’d had to spend a lot more time this year doing parchmentwork than he would have preferred.  Unfortunately, Lucius’s constant pestering in the first few weeks of the year seriously set him back in his duties.  Now he was stuck in his office filling out forms instead of being able to move around the castle at his leisure.  He really missed acting mysterious in front of students for his own amusement.  There were few things more amusing than silently appearing behind a student who was clearly in the middle of breaking the rules, then offering them some meaningless and often baffling platitudes while his eyes sparkled, then vanishing.  It was Dumbledore’s biggest guilty pleasure, and therefore he could never, ever let Minerva find out about it.

Thankfully, he was almost caught up on his backlog of work, so with any luck, he’d be able to get back to his usual antics in a few weeks.  If he hurried, he may even be able to get in more than a week of acting mysterious around students before the term ended.

As he finished his current stack of parchmentwork and prepared to move onto the next stack, the wards alerted him that someone was outside is office.  He gave a signal for the Gargoyle to move aside and began filling out the forms.  As he was finishing the first page, the last voice he wanted to hear cut through the subtle cacophony of the various instruments in his office.

“Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Albus barely managed to refrain from sighing.  He put on his best grandfatherly face and greeted his unwelcome guest.

“Hello, Lucius.  What can I do for you on this fine day?”

“I have a new request from the board of governors.”

Well, there went his next few hours.  Albus simply hoped whatever work backlog this caused wouldn’t eat into his time through the start of next term.  Albus waved his hand for Lucius to continue.

“The board would like to request an exemption…”

Oh, not this shite again…

“…From the usual prohibition for first year students playing Quidditch so that my son, Draco Malfoy, can apply for his house’s team.”

…Or not.

That was unexpected.  It was blatant favouritism, that much was sure.  But compared to plenty of things Lucius could have requested, it was tame.  It wasn’t as though he was requesting an exemption for all pureblood students, just this one.  It was still a student with obvious connections to the board, but it only gave an exemption to apply for the team, not necessarily be on the team.

Not to mention that young Mister Malfoy was a Gryffindor, and if he got on the team and won them the cup, then Draco’s name would go down on the records in the school’s trophy room as a Gryffindor.  Hell, he’d go down in history as the youngest seeker since the late eighteen hundreds, and the name his house team would inevitably appear alongside his name.  That alone was tempting, just for the irony.

And lastly… Albus’s gaze was drawn to the infernal stacks of parchmentwork that he’d been trying to catch up on for almost two months.  The thought of having to deal with further work backlog made Albus decide to get Lucius out of his hair by doing the last thing the man would have expected: agree with him.

“You know what, Lucius?  I think that’s a splendid idea.  Why don’t you go talk this over with your son?  I’m sure you would love the opportunity to be able to inform him of this gracious opportunity yourself.  No need to waste any more of your highly valuable time with me, after all.”

Lucius was taken back by Albus’s agreeability on this matter, and almost objected out of reflex.

“I don’t… Very well, if you’re sure…”

“Quite sure, Lucius, quite sure.”  Albus said as he rose from his chair.  He put and hand on Lucius’s back and began aggressively guiding him out of the room as he continued speaking.  “This is a tremendous, not to mention historic, opportunity for your son.  Youngest seeker in a century, I believe!  I’m sure you’re simply dying to break the news to him so you’d best be off!”  Albus gently shoved Lucius out of his office, slammed the door shut, and wandlessly locked it.

Once he was done, Albus let out a deep sigh and slumped against the closed door.  Thank Merlin he’d managed to only lose a few minutes of his time.  For a second, he was afraid that Lucius hadn’t given up on the resorting and had a whole new list of ridiculous demands.  He stared at the remaining stacks of parchmentwork.  He knew from experience that glaring at them would not magically fill them out, but he still wished it would.  Letting out one final sigh, he wandered back to his desk and began filling out forms once again.

Being responsible sucked, sometimes.

“Why do purebloods need so many damned forks?”  Harry asked as he looked through another one of the etiquette books Daphne foisted on them.

“Upper-class muggles are just as ridiculous, if it helps you feel better.”  Hermione replied.

Harry shook his head.  “It makes me feel worse actually.  Does money make people screwy in the head?”

“I’ve long suspected it, to be honest.  Combine lack of sense from money with lack of sense from magic, and, well, it’s no wonder Magical Britain is a mess.”

“Hey,” Daphne sniped, “Less complaining, more reading.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Harry replied noncommittally.

“The forks thing is pretty ridiculous, though.” Daphne conceded under her breath.

Harry smiled, but didn’t reply.  It was always good to be vindicated in the face of absurdity.

“Look, Malfoy,” Oliver Wood said, “are you really up to this?  I’d rather not waste time training a new seeker when the season’s already begun.”

“Well, do you want another repeat of that last game with McLaggen?  Whatever flying talent he has is wasted since he spent the whole game lecturing the team.”

Wood grimaced.  “That’s true, but still…  Fine.  Let’s see how you handle yourself on a broom.”

As Oliver watched Malfoy take to the skies, the rest of the team came over.  After watching the boy run through a few drills, he decided to get their opinion.

“How do you think he looks?”  He asked them.

“Average.”  One twin said.

“Slightly above average.”  The other twin countered.

“He’s a worse flier than McLaggen.”  Alicia offered.

“A worse flier,” Katie said, “but could be possibly be worse at teamwork?”

“Seeker’s a solitary role.  So long as he doesn’t interfere, he should be a reasonable player.”  Angelina added.

“Do we really trust a Malfoy on our team, though?”  The first twin asked.

That was the real question, and the one Oliver didn’t have an answer to.

Well, if McLaggen continued to sabotage their chances of winning the cup, then Malfoy really would be an improvement.

“We’ll let him in on a trial basis, I think.  He’ll play the next game, and if he’s better than McLaggen, we’ll give him the starting seeker slot.”

“It won’t be hard to be better than McLaggen.”  Katie scoffed.

“You know, Fred,” the second twin piped up, “methinks that our ickle Malfoy is going to get a bit of an ego after this.”

“A Malfoy?”  The other twin replied.  “With an ego?  Say it ain’t so, brother!”

Wood sighed.  The kid probably would get an ego over this, but if they had a chance at the cup, then he didn’t really care.  Nothing was more important than Quidditch, after all.

“This information is useless!”  Harry shouted.  “I almost think I’d rather be studying Quidditch than this tripe!”

Daphne raised an eyebrow at his outburst, while Hermione glared at him for mentioning “the sport which must not be named”.

“Hey, I said ‘almost’.” He clarified, to which Hermione let out a soft huff and went back to her book.

“Do you have a problem with my lessons, Potter?”  Daphne asked.

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate a lot of the stuff you’ve taught us.  The finance was especially helpful; I had no idea that a galleon was worth as much as twenty pounds sterling, a bit of info I’m still surprised you knew, by the way.”

“My family does imports and exports.  Plenty of raw materials for the magical world come through muggle suppliers.  Knowing the exchange rate is fundamental knowledge if I want to take over the family business.”

Harry shook his head at Daphne’s constant adult-ness.  He’d noticed he was mature for his age (probably due to his harsh upbringing), but being around Daphne and Hermione made him constantly feel like a child, and not in the way he’d always yearned for.

“Anyways, while you’ve covered a lot of practical knowledge, a lot of the high society stuff doesn’t seem useful for us.”

“It is if you plan on attending social functions.”

“Daphne, we’re eleven-”

“I’m twelve.”  Hermione quietly added.

“-and Hermione and I live with muggles.  Knowing how to act in a high-society pureblood functions is not practical knowledge for us at this stage.  Teach us later if you have to, but I think we should stick to the practical stuff.”

“Of course you’d want ‘practical knowledge’,” Hermione teased, “You’re never happy in class unless you’re waving your wand.”

Daphne tilted her head, the closest she got to an expression of emotion under most circumstances.  “I suppose you have a point.  I think I’ve covered most of the basics, anyways.  Are you fine with us putting our lessons on hold for a while?”

“Yes!”  Harry shouted as soon as she finished talking.  “I’d like to go back to my library time just being generic studying.”

“Studying…” Hermione said.  “Studying!  Oh Merlin, term exams are just half a month away!  I’ve got to study for them!”

Harry gave Hermione an incredulous look.  “Hermione, you memorised every textbook for our classes.  What could you possible need to study for?”

“It’s the principle of the matter!”

“Principle of the…  It’s a waste of your time!  You know all the material thanks to your mind magic thing!  If you study for exams, you’d just be wasting time you could be spending actually learning new stuff!”

Hermione paled.  “I… I never thought of it that way.  I have been wasting time, haven’t I?  Oh gosh, I need to go rearrange my schedule!”

“If you’re still studying, then why do you need to…?”  He tried to ask her retreating form, though she clearly didn’t hear him.

Daphne took the vacant seat next to him.  “You’ve got quite a weird assortment of friends, don’t you, Harry?”

Harry felt a flash of vindication at him using his first name, but addressed the rest of her statement instead.  “You know, you’re counted among my ‘weird assortment of friends’?”

“Oh, I am well aware.  I shed any misconceptions about my weirdness ages ago.  Being weird can’t bother me if I accept it, after all.”

Harry’s eyes didn’t stray from his book, but he wasn’t reading the words.  His brain was instead running through what Daphne had just said.  Things not bothering him if he accepted them.  Perhaps there was some wisdom there that he could use.

Chapter Text

It was done.  It was all done.

Albus sighed in relief at the lack of uncompleted parchmentwork on his desk.  At long last, he was free.  Riding his celebratory mood, he poured himself a small shot of firewhisky and downed it in one gulp.

There were only a few days left until most of the students would be leaving for the holidays, but Albus could easily introduce his own brand of insanity to a portion of the student population.

Albus opened the drawer on his desk where he stored all of the items he used in his antics.  He was about to do an inventory when he realised what the topmost item in the drawer was.

The Potter family invisibility cloak.  The one that was almost certainly a Deathly Hallow.

And Albus completely forgot to return it.

Oh, sure, he meant to return it in the first few weeks of school, but then Lucius kept coming in and his work backlog kept growing, and eventually…

Well, returning it just slipped his mind.

And giving it back at this point would just be embarrassing, really.

Christmas was coming up, and if memory served, then young Harry was staying back at the castle.  Albus should be able to slip the invisibility cloak in with the rest of Harry’s presents.  He could also leave it with an unaddressed note.  That seemed like an appropriately mysterious way to go about it while avoiding the embarrassment of admitting he forgot to do something important.

Christmas was still over a week away, though, so Albus had plenty of time to amuse himself until then.  What had been happening in the castle while he’d been busy…?

Well, it seemed that the Weasley twins were attempting to get to the end of the third floor corridor gauntlet.  Perhaps he should show up just as they were leaving and talk about chocolate frogs and their delightful collector’s cards.  That seemed like a good way to spend his day.

Padma Patil’s eyes glazed over as she read through the history text.  She’d never struggled with reading about history before she came to Hogwarts, but then, she hadn’t been attending Binns’ class before attending Hogwarts.  Binns’ class was so boring that she found herself falling asleep at the mere mention of history.  Her brain now associated an entire field of study with sleep.  Term exams were tomorrow, and she couldn’t even study the book properly.  This was unacceptable.

“It’s hopeless.”  She complained to Mandy.  “There is no way I can stay awake long enough to memorise the important sections of this book.”

“Yeah, Binns’ ability to make anything boring is ridiculous.”  Mandy replied.  “I gave up on studying the book a while ago, and just bought one of the cheat-sheets everyone else is using.”

“Cheat sheets?”

Mandy nodded.  “Yeah, it contains a rundown of every piece of material that appears on the test.  It’s pretty convenient, if a tad pricey.”

“May I see yours?”  Padma asked.

Mandy shrugged.  “Sure, not that it will do you any good.”

Padma stared at the indecipherable symbols on the parchment Mandy gave her.  “I can’t make heads or tails of this.”  She said after repeatedly attempting to understand what she was looking at.

“Yeah, the distributor made them so that they’re illegible to anyone besides the person who bought them.  They said it increases profit margins, since it prevents sharing and copying.”

“Well that’s annoying.  Where can I buy one myself?”

“I don’t know, I had Su buy mine.”  Mandy turned around and shouted across the room.  “Hey Su!  Padma wants to buy a cheat sheet!  Where’d you get it!?”

Su raised an eyebrow at Mandy’s yelling, but told an upper year named “Carmichael” that he was needed.

A sixth year with light brown hair and an unremarkable face walked up to Padma and began talking to her.  “I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my personal supply of guides, but if you would be willing to accompany me to the Dark Mistress’s lair, then I can easily get a sheet keyed to you.”

Padma really didn’t want to take a trek through the school, but the temptation of not having to study the textbook for the history exams was far too tempting for her to pass up.

“Fine,” she said, “lead the way.”

Carmichael gave a short bow, and then led her out of the common room and down through the castle’s many floors.

“So, uh…”  Padma wasn’t sure exactly where to start with this dude.  He was a bit weird.  “Where exactly are we going?”

“To the Dark Mistress’s lair, in the dungeons.”

“You certainly seem… loyal to her.”

Carmichael shrugged.  “She may be young, but she has great vision.  I never realised the power of information until she started looking for people for her network.  It was an eye opening speech that she gave.”

“…Sure.”  Yeah, he was definitely weird.

Eventually, they reached a classroom with two students standing guard outside.  Carmichael gestured for Padma to stay outside, so stay she did.  Honestly, it seemed easier not to ask questions.  She knew that asking questions was a Ravenclaw trait, and denying it would be poor for her house image, but this was just to… odd for her to even know where to start.

After a few minutes, Carmichael stuck his head out of the door.  “The Dark Mistress of Knowledge will see you now.”

Padma just wanted her damn study guide.  She was seriously wondering if this ordeal was worth it.

The room she entered was… a bit garish.  The whole thing was covered in deep crimson banners, and the room was lit exclusively with bluebell flames.  It was painful to look at, honestly.   At the end of the room, someone had put a stepping stool up to an old teacher’s desk, then put a chair on top of the desk.  Whoever set this place up had questionable taste.

A small figure in a dark cloak sat atop the chair, clearly trying and failing to look regal.   After staring down at Padma for a bit, the figure spoke.  “Welcome, Miss Patil, to the Nexus of Knowledge.  All information in Hogwarts is available here, for those willing to pay the fee.”

Padma froze.  She knew that voice.  She knew it because it was almost identical to her own.  She groaned.  “What the hell are you doing, Parvati?”

Parvati hissed.  “That’s the Dark Mistress of Knowledge to you, whelp!  And for your information, I am setting the foundations for my new empire.  You always criticized me for my fixation on gossip, but know I have a network of spies at my command and countless people coming to me for information.  Who’s useless now, Padma!?”

Padma… really did not want to deal with this.  She wasn’t exceptionally fond of her sister on most days, but this?  This was just… Well, Padma didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was, it was clearly too much of it.

“Who even gave you this idea?”  Padma asked.  “I mean, seriously, ‘The Dark Mistress of Knowledge’?  That’s not a stellar name, you know.  And I really hope that the decorations weren’t your idea, because they’re kind of hideous.”

“Padmaaaaa!”  Parvati pouted, petulance leaking into her tone.  “You’re embarrassing me in front of my minions!”

Oh dear gods, she actually considered them her minions.  Padma was officially not prepared to deal with this.  She’d let their parents sort it out over the holidays.

“Look, Parvati, I just want the answers to Binns’ first year term exam.”

“…Fine.  Gatherer, fetch a copy and have it keyed to Miss Patil.   I will discuss payment with her in the meantime.”

Carmichael gave another brief bow and exited to a side room.

“How’d you even get the keying done?”  Padma asked.  “That’s way beyond first-year material.”

“Countless people will offer their services for the right price.  Speaking of prices… This will not be free.”

“Do I have to talk to mum and dad about this?”

Parvati hissed again.  “You lack vision!  You all lack vision!  I am building an empire, here!”

“Fine, whatever.”  Padma just wanted out of her sister’s madhouse at this point.  “How much?”

“Five Galleons.”

“Five Galleons!?  You’re gouging me!”

“Well, where else do you plan on getting your answers?  Believe me, the answers are not so easy to come by after I started mass-production.”

“Fine, whatever, take your five galleons!”  Padma foisted off most of her money is to her sister’s waiting hands.  “This better be worth it.”

“The Dark Mistress always delivers…”  Parvati said, trying very hard to sound ominous.  She clapped her hands, and Carmichael came back out of the side room with a piece of parchment that was then coded to Padma by another student she didn’t recognise.

“Alright, you got your money, and I got my overpriced answer sheet.  Anything else?”

Parvati nodded from beneath her hood.  “You may go.  Although, if you find my prices objectionable, perhaps you should have a better attitude next time you arrive.”

She was getting gouged!  By her own sister!

Padma bristled as she left the room.  “I am so bringing this to our parents’ attention…”  She muttered to herself.

Harry waved at his friends as they left for the Hogsmeade train station to go back home for the winter holidays.  It left him feeling more morose than he expected.  He’d been alone for his entire childhood, but now, after having friends for a few months, he was beginning to realise just how much he would miss them.

He sighed and began the long walk back to the common room.  These next few weeks were going to suck.

Just after he entered the common room, a pair of hands grabbed onto his shoulders and a voice said “Boo!” into his ear.

Harry barely managed to stop himself from elbowing his “attacker” before he recognised the voice.

“What are you doing here, Tracey?  I thought you were going home for the holidays?”

Tracey shrugged and gave her trademark lopsided grin.  “My mom was called away on a last minute business trip, so I’m staying here.”

“And she wasn’t able to tell you until you’d already left for the station?”

Tracey waved her hand dismissively.  “Nah, she told me a few days ago.  I just wanted to surprise you.  You won’t be the only Slytherin here for the holidays!  Surprise!”

“I saw you leave, though!”

“Oh, I left through the main entrance, then walked around to the greenhouses so I could re-enter the castle there.  It wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if you didn’t actually think I was leaving, after all.”

Harry facepalmed.  “Right.  You at least remembered to tell Daphne and Hermione, right?”

The amount of time it took Tracey to reply was I the answer he needed.

“…I knew I forgot something.”  She said.

“I’d offer to send an owl to let them know, but I really don’t want to head all the way up to the eighth floor just to fix your mistake.”

“Eh, they’ll be fine.  Worst case scenario, they worry about what sort of mayhem I’m about to cause while they can’t keep an eye on me.”

“So… What does your mum do, anyways?”  Harry asked.

“She’s a businesswoman, or something like that.”

“…Or something like that?”  Harry asked, seeking clarification.

Tracey shrugged.  “Yeah.  That’s what she always tells me.  She’s never been too specific about what she does.”

“…Right.  And your dad?”

“He mostly just follows mom around and does odd jobs wherever she has business.”

“How… How long are your mum’s business trips?”

“Usually a few months.  Why?”

Harry didn’t even know where to start with this girl.  Was her entire life as odd as she was?  It would certainly help explain things.

"Where'd Tracey go?"  Hermione asked as she and Daphne settled into a compartment.

"I'm not sure, but if I were you, I'd enjoy the reprieve while it lasts."  Daphne said before muttering "It never lasts…"

The two girls fell into silence, mulling over what sorts of chaos Tracey was planning.

“Well,” Hermione said, “Whatever she does, I hope we don’t get caught up in it.”

“I feel much the same way.”

More silence filled the compartment.

“You know, I think this is the first time it’s been just the two of us together.”  Hermione commented.

“Yes, I believe you are correct.”

“I don’t think I realised just how much Harry and Tracey commandeer our conversations until just now.”

“They are far more talkative than the two of us.”  Daphne observed.

Another bout of silence stretched on for a few minutes.

“It’s nice.”  Hermione said.  “I like having some silence once in a while.”

“Perhaps we should hang out together more often?”  Daphne proposed.  “Just the two of us?”

“I think I’d like that.”  Hermione replied.

Hermione took the moment to soak in the peaceful atmosphere of the compartment, the silence broken only by the idle noise of the train.

“Yes,” she said, a contented smile stretching across her face. “I definitely think I’d like that.”

Albus had been very busy since he caught up on his work.

At that moment, he was busy trying to build a tower out of lemon drops without using magic.

It required immense focus.  His current attempt was twelve lemon drops tall, four better than his previous record of eight.

Alas, his progress was interrupted when Severus slammed the door to his office open, knocking down his small tower of sweets.

Sighing in exasperation, Albus addressed his visitor.  “Yes, Severus?”

Severus fixed him with a glare.  “Quirrell has been snooping around the third floor corridor.”  He said abruptly.

Albus’s eyebrows shot up.  “Has he really?  He doesn’t seem the type…  Well, no matter, just keep an eye on things.  Let me know if he’s at risk of ruining anything so I can intervene.”

Albus picked up a lemon drop from the pile on his desk and began a new attempt at building a tower.  Severus merely scowled at him.

“Headmaster.”  Snape spoke through gritted teeth.  “Do you think that you should perhaps take this a bit more seriously?”

Albus waved the man off.  “Honestly, Severus, it’s no big deal.  The gauntlet is perfectly safe.”  He said.  Honestly, why all of his  staff were in such a tizzy over the gauntlet, he had no idea.

Severus huffed loudly before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

An act which, once again, knocked over his new attempt at a lemon drop tower.

At least Severus didn’t interrupt a record, that time.  Albus grabbed a lemon drop from his desk and started over.

Parvati was able to make out the familiar form of her mother amongst the crowd of Platform 9¾.  Not that it was very difficult.  Most of the population of Magical Britain wore black robes, while her mother tended to wear bright and colourful sarees.

Padma, ever the serious one, greeted her with a cordial “mother” and a loose hug.  Parvati gave her mum a much tighter hug.

As they worked their way through the crowds to the public floo, their asked how their term went.  And then Padma squealed on her.

“It was going fine until Parvati gouged me on some study materials.  She charged me five galleons for a study guide!”

Parvati scowled at her sister.  “If you didn’t like the price, you could have just gone without!  It’s not like I forced you to buy my certified cheat sheets!”

Their mum raised an eyebrow.  “What’s this about cheating?”

Parvati shook her head.  “It’s a muggle term I picked up from some of my gatherers-”

“And that’s the other thing!”  Padma interrupted.  “She’s got minions now!  Parvati’s going dark, mother!  Being in Slytherin has corrupted her!”

“I run a legitimate business!”  Parvati said defensively.

“You charged me 5 galleons for a study guide!”

“You embarrassed me in front of my gatherers!  You need to learn that actions have consequences, and that insulting someone who has something you want is not a good choice under any circumstance!”  Honestly, wasn’t Padma supposed to be the smart one?

“I don’t care what your gossip-mongering minions think about you!  Why they willingly follow you is beyond me!”

“You’re a Ravenclaw.  You recognise that knowledge has power.  What you don’t realise is that knowledge also has value.  People pay for it, even down to juicy tidbits of gossip.  I was just able to realise the power that a centralised network granted.  They came to me because I love gossip, but they followed me because I have vision.  I can see potential where they can’t.  Why wouldn’t they follow someone like that?  Someone who can show them that their ability to gather info has value if coordinated properly?”

Their mum sighed.  “I can see that I am going to have to have a long talk with your father when he gets home this evening.”  Padma looked smug for a moment before their mum added “To both of you, but especially you, Parvati.”

Parvati hoped her father would understand just what she was accomplishing.  He could be a bit of a traditionalist, but surely even he could see that value and potential of what she was doing?  She had tamed the Hogwarts rumour mill and brought it under her thumb!  One of the most rampant and unavoidable aspects of Hogwarts was now effectively at her beck and call!  She was only eleven, to boot!  Parvati salivated at the thought of what sort of power and knowledge she could collect once she was free to move beyond Hogwarts.

A disillusioned Albus Dumbledore moved silently into the Slytherin common room and placed the package on one of the piles of gifts.  The Potter family invisibility cloak was wrapped in plain brown paper and contained an anonymous note written with a dictaquill.  No one would be any wiser that he forgot to return the cloak for over three months.

It was the perfect crime.

Of all the ways Harry expected to be woken up on Christmas morning, having cold water dumped on him wasn’t one of them.

“What the hell!”  He swore as he bolted upright.

Though he couldn’t identify his attacker’s appearance without his glasses, he’d recognise her cackle anywhere.

“That was great!”  Tracey laughed.  “Now, go take a shower to warm up, then we can open presents!”

“Why do I put up with you?”  Harry asked.

“Because you’re a brave and noble person who can see the heart of gold beneath my prickly exterior?”

Harry glared at her.

“Fine.”  She said  “Now go shower.   I’m sure you’re cold.”

“No thanks to you.  Now get out of my dorm.”

“In that case, I’ll be impatiently waiting down in the common room.  Try and keep it quick.”

“I wouldn’t need to shower until after presents if someone hadn’t dumped cold water on me!”  He shouted at her as she left.

As Harry stood under the hot water in his shower, he wondered if having Tracey around was really worse than being alone for the holidays.

…It probably wasn’t.  He didn’t do well with isolation.  His isolation at the Dursleys’ had made him develop a lot of bad habits.  Habits he was doing his best to quash.  Two weeks of isolation might cause him to relapse back into some of those habits.

Brushing aside the depressing thoughts of his lack of childhood, Harry climbed out of the shower, and cast several drying charms at himself.  Despite his best efforts, his hair remained a mess, though he’d long since given up hope on fixing that aspect of his appearance.  He would swear that it even retained its messiness while it was wet.

Harry entered the common room and took note of the two piles of presents sitting beneath a tree decorated in silver and emerald.

“They really stick with the house colours, don’t they?”  He mused.

“There you are!”  Tracey shouted.  “You took foreeeeever!”

Harry rolled his eyes at Tracey’s antics.  “Let’s just open our presents so we can get breakfast.”

Harry quickly went through his gifts.  He got a book of advanced combat spells from Hermione, a quick-draw wand holster from Daphne, and Tracey got him… a nondescript cardboard box filled with “prototype fireworks courtesy of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes”.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Tracey, asking for an explanation.

“Oh, you remember how I set off those fireworks in the commons room several weeks ago?”  Tracey explained.  “I originally got them from the Weasley twins and they were so impressed with my ‘ability to spread mayhem where they could not’, that they gave me a bunch more at a huge discount!”

“And you decided to get me in on this?”

Tracey huffed.  “It’s not my fault you’re hard to shop for.  I’ve known Daphne for years, so she’s easy to deal with.  Hermione is such a bookworm that a book is always a good idea.  I asked my mum for help picking one out, just to be on the same side.  But you?  Well, the only idea I had was a wand holster, and Daphne had already gotten one for you when I came up with the idea.  So I just decided to use this as an opportunity to rope you into some of my usual activities.”

“Your ‘usual activities’ being causing as chaos as possible?”

Tracey shrugged.  “It’s a hobby.  So what’s that last gift?”

Harry looked at the package Tracey was gesturing to.  It was a soft package, likely clothing, that was wrapped in plain brown paper and tied together with nondescript string.  The label simply said “Harry” with no sender, and was written in the neat sort of handwriting that was clearly identifiable as being from a dictaquill.

“It looks kind of… suspicious?”  Harry remarked.

Tracey rolled her eyes.  “It’s too suspicious.  If someone wanted you to take a booby trapped gift, they’d make it look like a regular present addressed from a casual acquaintance.  This is very obviously suspicious, therefore it is almost certainly not harmful.  It could totally be a prank, though.”

“You’re not filling me with confidence here, Tracey.”

“Just open it already!”

Harry sighed and ripped the paper open.  Inside was a mass of ethereal, silvery cloth that flowed out of the package in a bizarrely liquid-like fashion.  Harry held it up, revealing it to be…

“A cloak?”  He asked.

Tracey was staring at the cloak quizzically.

“I think that might be an invisibility cloak.”  She said.

“Invisibility cloak?”

“Yeah, they’re really rare and expensive, but are way more effective than the camouflage from a disillusionment charm.  My mom owns a few.”

“Why does your mum own several invisibility cloaks?”  Harry asked.

“She says that being unseen is very important when doing business deals.”

Harry shook his head.  “Right, so how do I use it?”

“Just put it on.  It’ll make you invisible once you’re covered.”

Harry pulled the cloak over himself.  It was clearly sized for an adult, not an eleven year old of below average size, so it was hopelessly baggy (Not that Harry was inexperienced at wearing hopelessly baggy clothes, mind).

“Oh, my gosh!”  Tracey squealed.  “It is an invisibility cloak!”

Harry looked down to see that he was indeed invisible.  Harry began to move around only to realise how disorienting it was to not be able to see his limbs.

“Put the hood up now!”  Tracey demanded.

Harry sighed and pulled the hood over his head.  Once he did, a veil fell over his face.  The veil was probably designed to make his face invisible as well, but it  had the added benefit of letting him see the cloak covering his body.

“I can see myself when the veil’s down”  He informed Tracey.  “It’s a lot less disorienting that way.”  Harry looked up to see Tracey sporting a maniacal grin.  “Oh no…”  He muttered.  That look could never be a good thing.

“Do you realise,” she asked, “just how many doors this opens for us?”

Definitely not a good thing.

“No…?”  He replied hesitantly.

“We can do basically anything we want, without getting seen!  We won’t have to bother sneaking if we want to break the rules, since we’ll be completely undetectable!”

Harry sighed.  “…Right.”

Tracey picked up the accompanying note and read it out loud.  “‘Your father left this in my possession shortly before he died.  It is time it was returned to you.  Use it well.’  There’s no name.  Who do you think gave it to you?”

Harry shrugged.  “Probably Dumbledore.  He’s the only person I can think of who would have had it and could have returned it.”

“Yeah,” Tracey agreed, “It does kind of seem like the kind of thing he’d do.  Now let’s go get breakfast.  I’m starving!”

Hermione neatly placed her presents in a stack after she opened each one.  Most of what she’d gotten thus far had been books, which was hardly surprising.  She did love books, after all.

Hermione moved on to Tracey’s present, which had arrived that morning via owl post.  Hermione removed the note and read it.

Hey Hermione!

I wasn’t totally sure what to get you.  Most of the books I read are fiction, which I know you’re not a fan of.  I asked my mom for advice, and she very enthusiastically recommended this book.  It’s a muggle book, so I’m not familiar with it.  I hope it’s as useful as my mom said it is!

Cheers!  Tracey

Hermione shook her head at the fact that girl’s excitable tone even came through in her messages.  Hermione began carefully peeling the wrapping paper off the package to get to its contents.

Once Hermione got a look at the title, she paused, unsure how she should react.

Sensing her daughter’s concern, Hermione’s mum came over.  Once she got a look at the book, she raised an eyebrow at Hermione, hoping for an explanation.

Hermione wordlessly handed the note to her mother, because she honestly didn’t know what else to say.

“Hermione,” her mother began, “what does your friend Tracey’s mother do that makes her consider The Anarchist Cookbook to be ‘useful’ and ‘highly recommended’?”

Hermione sighed.  “I don’t know, mum, but I think I need to ask her.  If only because I am now very curious.”

Penelope Clearwater walked briskly through the halls of Hogwarts, dragging her boyfriend-in-denial behind her (because no matter how much Percy argued about professionalism, their continued trysts definitely implied a relationship between the two).  Her current destination was a broom closet on the fifth floor that was (in)famous for holding silencing and notice-me-not charms better than other closets.  It was the perfect place for snogging and other activities popular among amorous couples.

“Really, Penelope,” Percy argued, “we’re prefects.  We have a duty to set a higher standard for the other students to follow.  Engaging in such activities is inappropriate.”

“If you’d rather go back to studying for your O.W.L.s, then I won’t stop you.”  Penelope released his hand and walked around the corner to where the broom closet lay.  As soon as she turned the corner, she heard the sound of Percy following after her.

Ha.  Score one for Penelope.

Penelope opened the closet’s door, and nearly fell over backwards when doing so led to her being face-to-face with the headmaster.

“Hello, Miss Clearwater.”  He said in his usual bemused and grandfatherly tone.  “And Mister Weasley as well!  How are you two doing on this fine Christmas day?”

“We’re, um, fine.”  She stammered.  “What are you doing in the closet, sir?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he replied.  “Coming out of the closet is often an ordeal, Miss Clearwater, especially to someone as visible in the public eye as myself.  It also invites a lot of scrutiny into affairs that one may prefer to keep quiet.”

Penelope got the impression that she was missing something.  “Are you going to come out of the closet, sir?”  She asked.

“Why, who’s to say I haven’t already, dear girl?  Just because you don’t know about something doesn’t mean that it’s not a matter of public record.  I find that when one neither hides the truth, nor advertises it, the public tends to be most willing to overlook it.”

She was definitely missing something.  “You’re very clearly still inside the closet, sir.”

“Oh, the broom closet!”  He exclaimed.  “Not the metaphorical closet!  Yes, it’s amazing how one can find oneself in the most unlikely of places.  Though, sometimes, being in the most unlikely of places is exactly what you may need, even if you don’t know it.”

All right, then.  “I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

His eyes twinkled again.  “See that you do, Miss Clearwater.  Now, my presence is required elsewhere, so I shall wish the two of you a splendid afternoon, then be on my way.  Farewell!”

As Penelope watched the headmaster’s retreating form, she called out to Percy.  “Well that was a mood killer.”

Percy seemed to he in shock.  “We…”  He said.  “We almost got caught by the headmaster.”

Penelope sighed.  “The key word here is ‘almost’.  …Well, I think I may get some studying done, after all.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at this closet the same way again.”

That evening, Harry was awoken from sleep by someone repeatedly jabbing his side.

“Gah!  What the hell!?”  He swore into the dark room.

“Finally!”  Tracey’s voice rang out.  “I’ve been trying to get you up for ages!”

Harry slumped back into his pillow.  “What do you want, Tracey?”

“Um, to use your cloak?  We have an opportunity to explore the castle at night, totally unseen!”

“…We?”  Harry asked hesitantly.

“Yes, We!  I’m not about to take your cloak!  You deserve the opportunity to use it on its maiden voyage!”

Harry sighed and tried to brush the cobwebs out of his brain.  “Fine.  I know better than to argue with you about stuff like this.  Just don’t ever wake me up to go ‘exploring’ when we have class the next day, and I’ll go with you.”

“Yay!”  Tracey swept Harry up in a hug, which Harry managed to take without tensing for more than a second.  “Now let’s go!  We are gonna have so much fun together!”

Chapter Text

Daphne sat in her room, reading through one of the books on muggle sciences that Hermione had given her for Christmas.  It was rather fascinating, really, that muggles had been able to exceed magical understanding of the world in certain ways.  This particular book was about the muggle understandings of the workings of the brain (a concept Daphne quickly realised was similar to, yet separate from, the magical world’s understanding of the mind).  Comparing the two was a fascinating endeavour; it reminded her of the difference between the mundane calculations her father used in financial work and the magical calculations her mother used in arithmancy.

Magicals and muggles both seemed to assume that the other didn’t understand how the world worked, but the more Daphne looked at it, the more she began to suspect something else.  It was almost as if the laws of the world operated on fundamentally different principles depending on whether or not magic was involved…

Before Daphne could consider that idea further, a soft pop announced the arrival of her family’s house elf.

“Mister Greengrass wishes to see you, Miss Daphne.  He is in his study.”

Daphne sighed.  When her father didn’t confront her about this after she got back, she assumed he was going to be waiting until after Yule for this meeting.

“Thank you, Tillop.  Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”

Daphne watched Tillop give a nod before disappearing.  Sighing, Daphne put her book down and used her occlumency to settle her nerves.  She’d been getting better at doing that, lately, probably just because school put her in an environment where she had greater need to practice it.  Feeling sufficiently ready, she walked down to the first floor and knocked on the door of her father’s study.

“Come in.”   Her father’s voice sounded out.

Daphne opened the door and quietly slipped in, taking a seat in front of her father’s desk.

Her father shuffled around the papers on his desk for a moment before he spoke up.

“How has your school year been so far, Daphne?”  He asked.

“It’s been going well, father.  I couldn’t tell you the exact rankings without seeing the official reports, but Harry, Hermione, and myself are all among the top students in our year.”

Her father’s face gave no indication of emotion, though the tone of his response conveyed some minor discomfort.  “The Harry and Hermione in question would be Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?  The ‘boy-who-lived’ and the ‘Slytherin muggleborn’ I’ve heard others speak of?”

Daphne nodded.  “That is correct.”

“…You are aware that neutrality is important to those in our family business, correct?”

Daphne nodded again.  “I am aware, father.  I am also aware that my friends are far from neutral figures, at least in the public eye.”  She shrugged.  “But, despite having my share of grievances about befriending them in the first place, I enjoy their company.”

“Befriending them was Tracey’s idea, I assume?”

“Pretty much any odd thing in my life can be traced back to her.”  Daphne replied.

Her father shook his head.  “That girl, I swear to the Morrigan…  Well, If she’s anything like her mother, which she certainly is, she’ll tend to throw herself into various messes for her own enjoyment.  Be careful about letting her drag you into too much, lest she get you into any sort of real danger…”  He sighed wistfully.  “A part of me would like to cut you off from her altogether, if only for your own safety, but I know that your sister, your mother, Tracey, and her mother would all have my head for it.”  Her father shuddered.  “I know better than to deliberately draw the ire of Melody Davis.  She’s terrifying once you get past her upbeat exterior…”

“What does Mrs. Davis do for a living, anyways?”  Daphne asked.

Her father’s visage paled and he eyed the bottle of firewhisky on his desk before shaking his head and answering.

“Ask me again when you’re older.”

Annoyed at the lack of an answer, but unwilling to show it, Daphne excused herself and stepped out of the room.

Her father meant well, but he, like Daphne herself, had trouble expressing his emotions.  Daphne’s mind wandered back to the muggle book on brains and wondered if the muggles had coined a term for such a condition.  They did seem to love labelling small behavioural oddities, from what she’d read so far.

Her mind now focused on the book, Daphne went back to her room, content to read the day away.

Wayne put down one book and picked up another, eliciting a sigh from Ron in the process.

“I don’t understand how you can read so much, mate.  My eyes start to glaze over after half an hour of staring at the page.  Trying to sort through all those facts is headache inducing.”  Ron said.

“Have you ever tried to read anything besides textbooks, Ron?”  Wayne asked.

Ron raised an eyebrow.  “What, you mean stories?  Sure, I’ve read Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle, and I read the Tales of Beedle the Bard when I was younger.”

Wayne pinched his eyebrow.  “Ron, Martin Miggs is a comic book, not a novel.  You haven’t read any muggle nonfiction?”

Ron gave Wayne a look.  “No?  Why would I have?”

Wayne pinched his brow.  “Because, unlike wizards, muggles have a large industry that prints nonfiction.  My dad mentioned that the small size of the wizarding world means that there aren’t enough people to fulfill certain niche jobs, like fiction writing.  As a result, if you want to read fiction that isn’t either targeted towards kids or lonely housewives, you need to get your books in the muggle world.”

“Huh.”  Ron said, a quizzical expression on his face.  “I never really thought about muggle society like that.  Can you recommend any books worth reading?”

Wayne looked down at the book he just picked up, the sequel to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

“Um… Well definitely not this one.  I can mail my dad and ask him for some recommendations that don’t need extensive knowledge of how the muggle world works.”

“Okay, thanks mate.”  Ron said, though by the look on his face, he clearly wanted to say more.

After a few minutes, Ron spoke up again.

“Erm, Wayne, I just, uh, wanted to thank you.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow.  “What for?”

“For, well, you know, staying here over the winter hols.  I know that you’d probably have preferred to spend time with your parents and such.  And I wanted to thank you for staying back here instead.”

Wayne shrugged.  “It was no big deal, honestly.  My family doesn’t do a lot over the Christmas, anyways.  Susan’s aunt’s schedule is super busy, and I know Christmas is one of the only times they get to spend a lot of time with each other, so there was no way she’d stay behind.”

“Yeah, That makes sense.  I’m actually kind of glad you stayed behind instead of her.  While I like Susan, I’d hate to be trapped in a room while she tells her terrible jokes.”

Wayne laughed.  “I suppose you would find that to be a pun-ishment like no other.”

Ron groaned.  “Not you too!”

Wayne chuckled.  “Anyways, I would have honestly felt worse going home knowing that you’d be the only Hufflepuff staying behind, at least of those that aren’t drowning themselves in study as they prepare for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s.”

Ron shuddered at the mention of the dreaded standardised exams.  “Ugh, yeah, I’m really not looking forward to fifth and seventh years.”

“Hey, if you hung out with Granger, you’d probably be prepared for the N.E.W.T.s by the end of fourth year.”

“Ugh, I respect Granger for her brains, but there is no way I could study like she does.”

Wayne nodded.  “Yeah, I agree with you on that.  I respect her for her intelligence, but I don’t think I could hang around her as much as Potter, Davis, and Greengrass do.  It would drive me barmy.  Anyways, why don’t I write up that letter to my dad before I forget.  We can mail it out after dinner.”

Ron smiled appreciatively.  “Thanks, mate.  You’re a lifesaver.”

“Hey, no problem.  My dad would be glad to help.  He’s a really understanding guy.”

“You can’t ground me!”  Parvati shrieked through her locked bedroom door.  “I am the founder of a new world order!  I am the mastermind of a machine beyond your understanding!  To constrain me is a crime against the principles of knowledge and information!”

Parvati quickly realised that the blustering approach wasn’t working.  She decided to try reasoning with them.

“What I was doing wasn’t even technically blackmail!  It’s only blackmail if I use it as leverage!  I’m simply offering people a price to ensure that no one else purchases their sensitive information!  It’s a valid business opportunity!  If people don’t want incriminating information about themselves getting out, then they should do a better job keeping it under wraps!  And there’s nothing wrong with tapping into the Hogwarts wards either!  Lots of students have done it before.”  Technically, she only knew of four students who’d done it before, and they used weird codenames.  Fred and George hadn’t been forthcoming about other information regarding their mysterious map.

After several moments of silence passed, Parvati realised that reasoning with her parents also wasn’t working, if they were even listening at this point.

“You’re just jealous of my business!  I’m way more successful than you were at my age!”  Parvati pouted before stomping over to her bed.

Seriously, nothing she’d done so far was illegal!  The most objectionable things she had done were all in a grey area at worst!  It was so unfair!

Parvati wondered briefly about the ethics of finding blackmail material on her own parents.  Maybe then they’d think twice before grounding her again.

She’d have Carmichael look into the legality of that once she got back to Hogwarts.  Maybe then her parents would see the wisdom and power she held.

Draco watched as his father paced idly around the second floor sitting room.  (The second floor sitting room was reserved exclusively for family, unlike the ground floor sitting room, which was used for the riff raff, or the first floor sitting room, which his father used for business.)

“Are you certain about this, Draco?”  His father asked, trying not to sound exasperated.

“Very certain, father.  While Longbottom and MacMillan may be blood traitors by legacy, I am certain that they can be brought around to see things from our point of view.  It will take time, but I can help them see the wisdom in keeping wizarding blood pure.”

Draco’s father stopped pacing and glared at him.  “While I would not deny the… advantage that such alliances could bring us, I am skeptical of your ability to bring them about.  After all, were Longbottom’s parents not casualties of the end of the last war?  While they boy is lacking in convictions, I doubt he is so lacking as to side with the allies of those who cost him his parents.”

Draco stared back at his father.  “I am very capable, father.  I was already able to help Longbottom in a matter of great importance.  His grandmother insisted that he use a legacy wand instead of getting one of his own, and I brought the attention to our head of house.  By not calling in the obviously owed debt for such an action on my part, I was able to pass it off as an action of friendship, putting me in his good graces.  And while Longbottoms may have been historically against us, the Macmillans suffered no such losses, and will be easier to draw in once they see the rightness of our cause.”

Lucius sighed.  “I will not stop you from consorting with the blood traitors, though I expect no success from your attempts to sway them.  See that you do not find yourself swayed instead.”

Draco scoffed.  “As if I could be swayed in such a way.  I am fully loyal to our cause.”

Draco stopped himself from bristling as his father sighed again.  He was more than capable of doing this!  He’d show his father that he could be Slytherin!  Being in Gryffindor was a greater advantage than he could have thought, as no one expected subtlety and manipulations from a Gryffindor!  Draco knew that someday, he would be counted among the best.

“Harry!  Harry, wake up!”

Harry groaned into his pillow.

“C’mon, Harry!  Let’s go exploring!”

Harry groaned again.  “Tracey, we have explored the castle every night for the past four days.  It’s basically the same as the castle in the day, except darker.  We do not need to go out exploring for a fifth day in a row.”

“But I actually thought of something to do, this time!  We can get into the library’s restricted section!”

Harry actually perked up at that.  A lot of the more advanced books on combat magic were in that area, and Harry would admit to being a sucker for any books on his personal area of expertise.

“Explain.”  He demanded.  “Why couldn’t we do this during the day?”

“Oh, I thought that would be obvious.  It’s because of the wards around the restricted section.  There’s a ward that trips anytime someone who isn’t a N.E.W.T. student or a staff member enters the restricted section.  During the day, Madam Pince is always right next to the entrance at her desk, but at night, she’s asleep in her quarters.

Harry blinked.  “And so, your plan is to…”

“Use the invisibility cloak to run in and hide.  We should have a solid delay before anyone gets there after we trip the alert ward, and we can use that to hide ourselves deep in the section before anyone gets there.  Then we just have to outwait them, and bam!  Full access to the restricted section.”

Harry considered Tracey’s plan.  It wasn’t foolproof, but the prospect of even a few hours of reading time there could be very interesting.

“All right,” he said, “I don’t think I can bring myself to pass up an opportunity like this.  I’ll put on some clothes and grab the cloak.  Wait for me down in the common room.”

Tracey grinned and pulled Harry into a tight, but brief hug.  “Don’t keep me waiting for long!”  She said before bolting out of the room.

Harry sighed at his friend’s energetic behaviour before he pulled himself out of bed and threw on a robe over his pajamas.  He then pulled the cloak out from the bottom of his trunk, taking a moment to once again marvel at the bizarrely liquid-like behaviour of the fabric.

A part of Harry felt that there was something more to this cloak than was immediately obvious, though he had no idea what that might be.  It was like he was missing a key piece of information…

Pushing that thought aside, Harry walked down to the common room, where Tracey was bouncing on her heels next to the exit.

“Ready?”  He asked.

Tracey broke out in a grin and nodded enthusiastically before Harry swung the cloak over the two of them.  Tracey cast a silencing charm at the cloak (a charm that Harry had, much to his annoyance, yet to cast properly), and the duo set off.

Harry never really got over just how different Hogwarts looked at night.  Even in the dungeons, several levels below the ground floor, the hallways were lit with a soft, sourceless light that one would assume was moonlight if they were outdoors.  The light’s dim glow and blue-ish tinge contrasted heavily against the bright orange light of torches that lit the halls in the daytime.

Harry had long grown to love the night.  The sensation of being awake and active while the world slept was exhilarating for a social recluse like himself.  While Harry was certain that his anti-social behaviours were at least in part due to his time at the Dursleys’, he was fairly certain they weren’t totally to blame.  He'd enjoyed isolation even before it was enforced by Dudley beating up anyone who got remotely close to having a positive interaction with him.  The fact that his relatives were such abysmal company merely reinforced his solitary nature.  Being awake at night, able to act with the knowledge that there were fewer people about, was both relaxing and exhilarating.

So Harry did enjoy these nighttime excursions with Tracey, although he couldn't let her know that.  She'd just get insufferably smug.

As the pair neared the library, Tracey began to outline her plan.

"Alright, once we cross the entrance, we move as quickly as we can while staying under the cloak.  We'll then find a place to buckle down for a while until the coast is clear.  After that, we should have free run of the place."

Harry nodded, and they crept into the library and wandered deep into the restricted section.  After wandering randomly for a while, they sat down and waited.  Minutes ticked by, and after waiting for what felt like half an hour, Harry spoke up.

“Are you sure there are wards blocking the entrance?  I would have thought someone would be here by now.”

“Yeah, it is weird…” Tracey commented, “Given the fact that at least some of these books delve into actively dangerous stuff, there’s no way there aren’t wards, but we may have found a way to avoid tripping them?”  Tracey shrugged.  “I’m not really sure, honestly.”

Harry stood up and stretched his back.  “I’m going to have a look around, then.  Let’s just do our best to keep an ear out, in case someone does actually come.”

Tracey gave him a thumbs up before turning to the shelves, while Harry wandered around for a bit.  None of the books nearby caught his attention, most of them being focused on theory and rituals.  Harry was no big fan of theory, and even he knew better than to mess around with rituals at his age.  Eventually, he came across a large section filled with books on the “practical use of the dark arts”.

Harry shrugged.  Practical was practical, right?  He picked out a book at random and opened it to a page in the middle.  Once he got a good look at the page, he slammed the book shut and placed it back on the shelf.

Seriously, did a book on dark curses need to have graphic visuals alongside the spell descriptions?

Once Harry thought about it for a bit, though, it did make sense.  If he couldn’t stomach a depiction of using such a curse, he doubted he could stomach the real thing.  Harry decided that he would leave the dark arts alone until he was older.  Much older.

Shaking his head once more, Harry tracked down Tracey, and found her buried deep inside an old tome.

“The combat magic here is a bit… extreme for my taste.  I think I’ll look elsewhere.”

“Alright.”  Tracey replied flatly, clearly absorbed in her book.

Harry raised an eyebrow.  “What are you reading there, anyways?”

“Alchemy.  Since it’s considered too advanced for anyone below their N.E.W.T. years, it’s kept in the restricted section.  Very few people learn the discipline, too, so the supply of books is basically nonexistent.  It’s easier to sneak in here than it is to try and find my own copies of these things.”  She said, gesturing at the books as she did so.

“Right, well, I’m going to go look around for something less… gruesome.  Have fun with your alchemy books.”

Harry went back to wandering through the shelves, trying to see if anything caught his eye.  Eventually, he stopped when he entered a section that seemed to mostly pertain to something called “blood magic”.  Somewhat reluctant from his last book, but curious nonetheless, he grabbed one of the books and opened it.

Harry was surprised that a field of magic with “blood” in the name was focused more on utility than on harm.  Blood magic seemed to be a versatile field that used the blood of a magical person (usually the caster) as a catalyst for a spell.  Since the loss of a few drops of blood counted as a sacrifice, and because said blood was tied to a person’s magic, blood magic was substantially more powerful than standard casting.  It covered everything from more powerful versions of existing spells, to forms of magic that were only possible with blood, like tracking charms.  As a whole, it seemed like a fascinating subject.

As Harry began finding several spells that looked promising as an introduction to the art, he realised that he didn’t bring any parchment with him.  Harry looked around at the books he’d pulled out and lamented.  There was no way he’d be able to memorise all of the spells that caught his attention, and while he was able to sneak in well enough, he doubted he’d be able to actually remove a book from the section without getting caught.  Sighing, he memorised a few of the most interesting ones (at least as well as he could manage.  He didn’t have Hermione’s memory, after all) then put the books back in their proper locations.

It was getting late, so he decided to find Tracey and head back to the common room.  He would have to return here on a later date with writing materials so he could actually copy the interesting bits for later study.

He found Tracey exactly where he left her, surrounded by alchemy books.

“How are you doing?”  He asked.

She let out a small, dissatisfied grunt.  “This stuff is complicated.  I’m good at potions, so the parts of alchemy that draw from that make sense to me, but there’s a lot of transfiguration as well, which I’m bad at…”

Harry sighed.  “I think Hermione’s the only one in our year who’s ‘good’ at transfiguration, though Daphne’s not half bad at it.  Now, as interesting as spending time here has been, I didn’t bring any note-taking materials, and I lack Hermione’s perfect memory.  We should come back later with some proper materials.”

Tracey sighed, but nodded.  “Yeah, I’m not making as much progress as I would have liked.  Looks like it will be a few years before I’ll be able to crash the wizarding economy by flooding the market with gold…  Philosopher’s stones are very advanced.”

Harry sighed and pinched his brow.  Did Tracey do anything for a normal reason?

“Yeah, that’s… I don’t even know what to say.  Put the books back and let’s go.”

Tracey began haphazardly shoving the books back onto the shelves before she turned to face Harry.  As Harry threw the cloak over the two of them and they left the library behind, Tracey spoke up.

“So, what did you look up?”  She asked.

“Well, I looked at a dark arts book at first, but it was a bit too… visceral for my taste.  I found some books on blood magic that seemed interesting, though.”

Though Harry couldn’t see Tracey’s face, he knew she was grinning from the tone she used to reply.  “Ooh, going straight for the illegal stuff, huh?”

“It’s illegal?”  Harry asked.  “It all seemed pretty benign.  I thought it was just in the restricted section because it could be dangerous.”

“Nah, it’s illegal.  No idea why, though.  Every time I asked my mom, she just started muttering about obstructive bureaucrats and reactionary laws.”

As they went down from the fourth floor to the third floor, the sound of softly spoken voices drew their attention.  Tracey nudged him and pointed in that direction, and for once, Harry was in total agreement with her course of action.  Who in their right mind would be having a conversation in the hallways after three am?

As Harry and Tracey snuck closer, the voices gradually became clear.

Snape’s signature drawl came into focus first as the duo drew closer.

“…should be more careful, Quirrell.  People might think you’re… up to something.”

Quirrell replied in his usual stutter.

“N-n-not at all, S-Severus!  I’m s-s-simply enjoying this fine evening.  Hogwarts is s-such a b-b-beautiful place, after all.  It simply must be enjoyed once in a wh-while.”

“And I’m sure that your proximity to the third floor corridor is mere… coincidence, is it not?  One would hardly like to think that you’d been… snooping.”

Quirrell’s face twitched for a moment before he replied.  “W-well, one can never be t-too sure about the protections, eh?  An artifact as v-v-valuable as the S-Stone must be protected.  It would b-be a shame if someone s-stumbled upon it by accident, w-w-wouldn’t it?”

Snape’s gaze burrowed into Quirrell for a moment before he replied.

“…Indeed.  Watch yourself, Quirinus.  You can never be truly sure of one’s loyalties, after all.”

Quirrell gave a shaky nod and walked off.  Snape watched Quirrell retreat for a moment before he turned around and began stalking towards the dungeons.

Unfortunately, Tracey and Harry were directly in his path.

Harry felt Tracey grab him from behind and pull him out of Snape’s way.  Unfortunately, Harry tripped on the cloak as he moved, and knocked the arm of a nearby suit of armour loose.  As the arm clattered noisily on the floor, Snape whirled around faster than Harry would have believed possible, wand appearing in his hand as if from nowhere.  Snape quickly murmured a spell.

“Homenum Revelio.”

Harry felt Tracey tense as a dim, red wave of magic pulsed from the end of Snape’s wand, spreading in all directions.  Harry wasn’t sure what that spell was supposed to do, but whatever it was, Snape seemed satisfied with the results and left.

Once Snape was out of view, Tracey grabbed Harry and pulled him into a nearby classroom.  Once the door was shut, she whipped the cloak off of them and held it in her hands.

“What the hell is this thing?”  She asked.

Harry cocked his head.  “An invisibility cloak?  I thought we established that.”

“No, I mean… Harry, we got past the wards protecting the restricted section with this thing.  At first I thought that our trespassing was simply being ignored, but that spell Snape used back there was the humanoid revealing charm, but it didn’t show us.  An invisibility cloak only hides us from view, not from detection by magic.  If it was simply one or the other, I would call it a fluke, but we were clearly able to avoid two things we shouldn’t have by using this thing.  Whatever it is, it is not a normal invisibility cloak.”

“How do you know so much about invisibility cloaks, anyways?”

“My mom has several, remember?  She’s always talking about the weaknesses they have and how it interferes with her business.”

Harry was becoming increasingly sure that “business” was a euphemism for something, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was a euphemism for, at least not at this point.

“So, what is it, then?”  He asked.

Tracey continued to stare quizzically at the cloak.  “I mean… It’s obviously an invisibility cloak, but it’s somehow… stronger?  I’m not sure.  I’ll send a letter to my mom asking about various forms of cloaking and we’ll see what we can learn from that.”

Harry nodded.  “Maybe we should run some tests on it ourselves?  See what the cloak can and can’t do.”

“That’s a good idea.  Here, put it on, then let’s see how it reacts to mirrors.”  She said as she gestured to a mirror on the other side of the room.

“Mirrors?”  Harry asked.

“Yeah.  You can’t see yourself with the veil up, but you can with the veil down, right?  Does the veil let you see your reflection as well?”

“That’s… actually a really good point.  I was so overwhelmed by the idea of getting an invisibility cloak that I didn’t even think about testing the cloak’s limits.”

“Exactly!”  Tracey exclaimed.  “Now, go stare in the mirror!”

Harry walked up to the ornate mirror as he donned the cloak.  As the veil fell over his face, he stared at the mirror to see… something that was definitely not his reflection.  Well, he was in the reflection, but he was not wearing the invisibility cloak and had two other people standing behind him.

Harry had too many thoughts competing to be voiced, so all he got out was “Huh”.

Tracey stared at him, or rather, the direction his voice came from.  “Well?  How does it work?”

Harry shrugged before realising that the gesture was useless while he was invisible.  Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he pulled down the cloak of the hood and gestured to the mirror behind him, before realising that his gesture was also useless since his arm was still invisible.  Giving up on body language, he spoke instead.

“I think it’s a magical mirror.  I’m showing up in the mirror, but not wearing the cloak.  Also, I see people whom I can only assume are my parents.”  Harry explicitly didn’t mention the severe emotional response that seeing his parents induced.  He really tried his best to avoid thinking thinking about them for fear of getting caught in a cycle of longing for something he knew he could never have.

“Really?”  Tracey said, clearly intrigued.  “Let me take a look.”

Harry gestured to the mirror behind him before remembering that his arms were (still) invisible.  Rather than go through the bother of taking the cloak off, stepped out of the way

“Go ahead.”  He said, feeling a lot less confident in his ability to keep his voice level.

As Harry stepped to the side, he was grateful that the apparitions standing near his reflection disappeared once he was no longer staring into the mirror head-on.  He silently vowed to never step foot in front of it again.

Tracey stared in the mirror, cocked her head to the side, then broke out in a huge grin.

“It’s beautiful…”  She said reverently.

Feeling morbidly curious, Harry asked her, “What do you see?”

“Freedom…”  She murmured faintly.

The unusual airiness to her tone and increasingly glassy look in her eyes were all the proof Harry needed to decide that, whatever this mirror was, it was bad news.  Harry pulled Tracey’s hood up over her eyes to block her view of the mirror, then dragged her struggling form towards the door.  Before he could leave the room, the door opened to show a very surprised looking Albus Dumbledore.

The shock on the headmaster’s face was quickly replaced with the calm demeanor he usually showed in public.

“Mister Potter, Miss Davis.”  He greeted genially.  “It’s rather late to be going out for a stroll, is it not?”

Tracey, who had since broken out of her mirror-induced stupor, paled at the sight of the headmaster as she pulled her hood down.  “We were just, uh…”

Dumbledore smiled.  “Going out for a three-in-the-morning stroll, I’m sure.  It’s a rather peaceful time of day, is it not?  Although I must say, you two are far younger than the usual pairs of students I find in abandoned classrooms.”

Harry had heard the older students talking about things like that, though he had no idea why they would do it.  Though if the faint red tinge on Tracey’s cheeks was an indication, it was something embarrassing.

“I was trying to get Tracey away from that cursed mirror over there.”  He said as he gestured back towards the other side of the room.  He didn’t dare look back, lest he catch another glimpse of his reflection.

Dumbledore gazed back at the mirror (that Harry was still trying very hard not to look at, unlike Tracey, whose gaze kept wandering behind her).

“Yes,” he said solemnly, “The Mirror of Erised is a beautiful and terrible thing.  I’ll be moving it elsewhere after tonight, if it helps you feel better about it.”

It did make Harry feel better, and he quashed down the parts of himself that longed for him to lose himself in its depths.  Harry simply nodded in reply.

Dumbledore smiled again.  “I suggest you two be off, then.  Filch was lurking nearby, and I imagine neither of you would appreciate a detention with him.”

As Harry started dragging Tracey out of the room, Dumbledore called out from behind him.  “And Mister Potter?  The next time I see you, I would like to see all of you, not just your head.”

It took Harry a moment to realise that he had been wearing the invisibility cloak, sans hood, the whole time he’d been in the room.

Oops.

He pulled the cloak around Tracey and they vanished into the halls.

Once Dumbledore was sure that Harry was out of earshot, he closed and locked the door before letting out a deep sigh.  He wasn’t surprised that Harry was using the cloak to snoop around after hours; Merlin only knew how many time James had done the same.  It was, however, highly unfortunate that he and Miss Davis stumbled across the Mirror before he finished working on it.  Just a few more tweaks and it would be perfect for the end of the third floor corridor.  Albus was just glad that no one had managed to make it to the end of the corridor yet.  It would be embarrassing if someone made it to the end only for it to be empty.

As Harry and Tracey made their way back to the dorms under the cover of the invisibility cloak, Harry brought up one of the big points from the past hour that they had yet to address.

“What’s at the end of the third floor corridor?  Snape and Quirrell mentioned a stone…”

“I’m not sure…” Tracey mused, “but the only valuable ‘stone’ I know of that’s worth protecting like that would be the philosopher’s stone.  I mentioned it when I was going through those alchemy books, remember?  It’s used to make permanent transmutations of mundane metals into gold, and it’s also used in an insanely potent restorative potion.  There’s only one alchemist who was ever good enough to make one, though, some Flamel guy.”

“Are there any other stones they could be talking about?”  Harry asked.

“Nothing that I know of that isn’t a myth or a legend.”

“Why would they be keeping the philosopher’s stone in a school, though?  It seems like a bad idea to attract that sort of attention to the school, especially if all the teachers know about it.  Heck, Snape even accused Quirrell of snooping around the corridor.”

“Hmm, do you think Quirrell was actually snooping around the corridor, or was Snape simply accusing Quirrell of snooping to deflect attention off of Snape’s attempts at snooping?”  Tracey asked.

“I… wouldn’t know.”  Harry replied.

“Anyways, unknown allegiances of our professors aside, do you realise what this means?”

Harry wasn’t sure he liked that tone of voice.

“No, Tracey, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“It means…”  She paused dramatically.  “That we have a mystery to solve!”

God help him.

Chapter Text

Once Harry realised that the invisibility cloak could grant him unlimited access to the restricted section, the temptation to go there as often as he could manage was irresistible.  So it was that, on the last day before the end of winter break, he and Tracey were once again looking through the section’s many shelves.

Harry left Tracey to her continuing attempts to understand alchemy while he wandered back over to the books on blood magic, this time with some writing materials in hand.

Harry tried to find the spells that were the least likely to backfire horribly if he made a mistake casting them (which did seem to be a very real concern with blood magic), and started copying them down.

The basic spells seemed like they would only need a pin or needle, while some of the others called for a quantity of blood that required daggers.  Harry was not that anxious to spill his own blood, so he avoided those sections.  Once he was satisfied with his selection, he moved back towards Tracey, being careful to avoid being seen by any of the older students.

Unlike the blood magic section, which was enormous, the alchemy section was much smaller and more isolated.  Harry was quite sure that Tracey appreciated this, as it allowed her to read in her usual manner: haphazardly jumping between a minimum of five different books spread out around her.  Harry was unsurprised to find her reading the alchemy books in the exact same way.

“Making any progress?”  He asked.

Tracey gave a nocommital sound.  “I think so? It’s… really complicated, but I think I’m starting to understand the basics, at least…”

“And it only took you several days to get that far.  Well, when you’re done for today, let me know. I’ve got some things I’d like to try out.”

Tracey slammed the book in her lap shut.  “If you’re going to start trying things out, then my research can wait!  I want to watch.”

Less than an hour later, Harry and Tracey were in an unused classroom in the dungeon’s “endless corridor” (technically, all of the classrooms in the corridor were unused).  This one was a perfectly normal classroom, except all of the desks and chairs were on the ceiling instead of the floor. (Harry and Tracey, in an act of curiosity, tried using levitation charms to see if the desks were affixed to the ceiling.  As it turned out, they were not. They simply fell upwards, but only inside the room. The duo just shrugged and gave up on their testing after determining that much.)

Now intent on actually casting a spell, Harry pulled out a needle and pricked the centre of his right thumb.  He then gripped his wand, making sure the small drop of blood that formed on the wound had direct contact with the handle.

The basic principles of blood magic were simple.  While a drop of blood may be a small thing to give up, it was a large gesture symbolically.  As such, the spilling blood and sacrificing of blood, no matter how little, was able to serve as a huge power source or amplifier for spells.

There were three categories of spells when it came to blood magic: mundane spells that gained a power boost from blood magic, spells that could only work with blood magic because of their power cost or symbolic nature, and mundane spells that could not be boosted with blood magic because the additional power would overload the spells and cause some sort of catastrophic explosion.

Harry was trying one from the first category, and swore that he would never try using blood magic to boost a spell without checking for compatibility first, at least outside of life-or-death situations.  He didn’t fancy the idea of blowing himself to smithereens.

Pushing that thought aside, Harry moved on to actually casting the spell.  He focused on the sensation of his magic, and then tried to push the small drop of blood into his wand.  It took him a while to get used to the bizarre sensation, but eventually, the wand had absorbed the whole drop.  With the first step done, he thrust his wand out and shouted “ Lumos! ”

The light that came out of his wand was blinding, and tinged slightly red, as if the blood that fueled it was a part of the light itself.  When the light dimmed to a reasonable level, Harry opened his eyes and began blinking to try and dispel the spots clouding his vision.

“Wow.”  Was all he could manage to say.

“Wow indeed.”  Tracey said, her voice uncharacteristically dazed.

Harry stared at his wand, still not quite believing the power he had just managed to wield.

Once he’d had time for that revelation to sink in, he spoke, mostly to himself. 

“I am going to learn so much more of this.”

Hermione and Daphne found another solitary compartment on the Hogwarts Express for the trip back to school.  It only took a glare from the duo to make other groups of students leave them to their solitude. It seemed that they had started to develop a reputation.  Hermione saw no problems with this. Once the Express had started its journey northward, Hermione addressed the absence of the third person who was supposed to be there, but remained absent.

“Daphne,” she asked, “Where is Tracey?”

Daphne’s head slumped into her book.  “Of course she forgot to tell you.  Because why wouldn’t she?”

Hermione sighed.  “What did Tracey do this time?”

Daphne placed a bookmark in her page and began her explanation.  “Well, it seems that dear Tracey had to stay back at Hogwarts because her mother had unexpected business to take care of.  She wanted to surprise Harry by staying behind, but failed to tell us of her new plans.  She then tried to rectify this by sending me an owl sometime after I’d already arrived home, but, based on your ignorance of her antics, she apparently neglected to send one to you as well.”

That was… incredibly stupid.  It took Hermione only a second to realise that the stupidity was what made it so distinctly Tracey.

“Well, at least we know we’re free of her this time, unlike the last trip.”  Hermione commented.”

“Instead, we only have to worry about what she did at Hogwarts without our supervision.”

“At least she had Harry watching over her.”

Daphne gave Hermione an incredulous look.  “I like Harry, but he can be a bit of a pushover at times.  She’s probably been dragging him off to try and research some unspecified ‘forbidden magic’ just for fun.”

Hermione shifted on her seat.  “I’m sure Harry’s responsible enough not to try to perform dangerous magic without supervision.”

“Two sickles says you’re wrong.”

Hermione huffed.  “Betting is wrong.  Especially when it’s on our friends.”

Daphne held her hand out.  “Two sickles, Granger. That’s nothing.”

Hermione stared at Daphne’s outstretched hand.  “Fine. Two sickles. You’re a terrible influence.”

Daphne shrugged.  “I’m pretty sure you can blame Tracey for that.”

The pair fell into silence before for a while.  Daphne began reading her book for a while before Hermione decided to change the topic to something more casual.

“So,” she asked, “how was your break?”

Daphne sighed as she re-marked her book.  “It was fine. My father is concerned about my safety being around you and Harry.  Thankfully, he realises that there’s nothing he can do about it, since the friendship was initiated by Tracey, and there’s no way he could get me away from Tracey without drawing a lot of ire.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.  “Really?”

Daphne shook her head in affirmation.  “My mum and Tracey’s mum are close friends.  I think they met shortly after mum graduated.  Anyways, my father thinks that Mrs. Davis is dangerous, but he’s too scared to try and push mum away from her.”

That reminded Hermione about the unusual Christmas present she got, courtesy of Tracey’s mother. 

“What does Mrs. Davis do for a living, anyways?”  Hermione asked, her curiosity about the origin of her Christmas present returning to the forefront of her mind.

Daphne merely shrugged in response.  “I don’t know, but let me know if you find out, would you?  Every time I ask my father, he just starts looking really clammy and eyeing the firewhiskey.”

Hermione suspected that merely raised more questions than it answered.

As the students who left Hogwarts for the winter holidays came back, the school gradually shifted back to the same bustling atmosphere that it held most of the year.  Friend groups reconvened and caught up, teachers and prefects resumed harsher disciplining, and the school gradually shed the carefree feeling it had held for the two weeks of winter break.

In some cases, though, "gradually" was a subjective term.

At that moment, Parvati Patil was not feeling patient enough for the usual definition of "gradually".

She was far too angry for that.

Her parents grounded her for the whole winter break.  Grounded! All because they got a little squeamish when Padma told them Parvati was blackmailing people!  Parvati tried to explain that her business model wasn’t blackmail, at least not from a legal perspective, but her parents wouldn’t hear a word of it!  Since Parvati didn’t deny blackmailing people, her parents took that as confirmation of her guilt.

Well fine!  If she was going to be punished for blackmailing people, she may as well actually do it!  Parvati switched into her business attire and stormed towards her domain. She had goals in mind for today’s meeting.

Everyone in the room jumped when she slammed the doors open.  Good .  She was not in the mood to deal with idiocy today.  As she strode over to her throne, she called out for her unofficial second-in-command.

“Carmichael!”  She shouted.

Hushed whispers spread through the room at her use of a Gatherer’s name, though a sweeping glare across the room as she sat down in her throne silenced them.  Unfortunately, Carmichael was cowed with the rest of them, and she needed his assistance.

“Carmichael Stephens!  Front and centre!” She shouted again, aggravation leaking into her tone.  Carmichael winced at the use of his full name, but he moved up to her nonetheless. 

Parvati began to explain her conundrum.  “I’m afraid that my… parents don’t see eye to eye with me on my ideals.  I need leverage over them. How far does our network extend outside of Hogwarts?”

Carmichael lost himself in thought before he answered.  “Not very far, Mistress. While a few of the upper years know students who have graduated or have older siblings, few of us have any real connections to call on.”

That wasn’t what Parvati wanted to hear, but it was what she expected to hear.  “See what we can do to change that.  I need something on the Patil family by summer’s start.”

Murmurs spread through the room at her deliberate verbal move to distance herself from her parents, though she once again silenced them with a glare.

“Well?”  She addressed them.  “You have your assignments.  Make good on them.” As her gatherers filtered out of the room, she turned back to Carmichael.  “Has any further progress been made with the Weasley twins? Hijacking the portrait command ward soon would be a great boon.  It will be easier to expand our web of influence if less effort is needed for maintaining our network in Hogwarts.”

Carmichael winced, though he was obviously trying to hold it back.  “We have been… less successful on that front than we would have preferred.”

Parvati sighed.  “Fine. Schedule a meeting and I’ll get the information from them myself.  I am growing increasingly frustrated with their attempts to waste our time.  Oh, and make sure one of our bookkeepers is available to come with me and has documentation assembled.  I highly doubt that whatever price the twins are going to ask for will be cheap.”

Carmichael nodded.  “Of course, Mistress.”

Parvati nodded to herself as Carmichael left.  It felt good to have power.

Severus herded every arriving Slytherin he could find into the common room.  Given how independent all of his students were, the task was obnoxiously similar to herding kneazles.  Severus hated having house meetings at any occasion besides the start of the year (Many would not find the fact that Severus hated something to be surprising, though contrary to popular belief, Severus did not hate everything .  Just most things), but he was getting desperate.  No matter what he did, the Slytherin students still refused to stop treating the common room as a battleground for a conflict that constantly threatened to spill into the halls.  Thus, he was using his last resort tactic and actually speaking to (and possibly mildly threatening) his house.  If this didn’t work, then he would give up all preconceptions of dignity and ask Minerva for help.  He would normally go to Albus for help, but there were two reasons he opted not to. First of all, Albus was absolutely no help when it came to anything Slytherin.  The first, last, and only time he asked Albus for help, the daft old fool suggested that he help two students acting on a blood feud to talk out their differences. Severus decided not to consult the man on anything Slytherin related after that.  The other reason, though, was that Albus should be focusing on protecting the Philosopher’s Stone (emphasis on “should”, because no matter how hard Severus tried to convince Albus otherwise, he never took Severus’s complaints that Quirrell was snooping around the third floor corridor with anything other than casual amusement).

Severus blinked.  What was he doing again?  …Ah yes, that’s right. He was busy hating the world and everyone in it.  Even himself. Especially himself.

Severus looked around the common room.  Potter’s crew was mysteriously absent, as was Patil.  Then again, those five were rarely in the common room outside of curfew.  Even after curfew, they were out more often than not. Potter’s group was usually in the library, and Patil was off doing… whatever it was that gossip obsessed young girls did.  Severus didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care.

(Severus really hated his life.  He hated it so, so much.)

Well, there was no sense in putting it off any longer.  Everyone who was going to be here was now here. Severus loudly cleared his throat and began to address the room.

“I am aware that there have been certain… disagreements among the members of our house.”  He said, drawing out his words for dramatic effect. Severus would deny it until the day he died, but he loved being melodramatic in his own, subtle way. He wouldn’t say it brought meaning to his life, per se, but he had to take his joy where he could get it.

Well aware that his brief moment of being lost in thought would pass as another dramatic pause, he continued addressing his house.

“I am glad that you have managed to keep all disputes… in house, and while I am not… foolish enough to believe that you will resolve your differences at my behest, I will at least demand that the common room no longer be treated as a… battleground.  You all know not to go against my orders at all other times. I expect the same level of sensibility from you on this front. That is all." Severus strode out of the room, surreptitiously casting a listening spell as he left. He quickly ducked into an alcove in the dungeon corridor and listened to the aftermath of his little speech.

Adrian Pucey couldn't keep the grin off his face as Snape left the room.  There was no way he wasn't about to try and use Snape's ultimatum to his advantage.  He sidled up to Flint and began verbally jabbing the older boy (because no matter how old Flint was, Adrian would never label someone of Flint's maturity as a "man").

"So, Flint," he began, "are you disappointed that you won't be able to take potshots at us whenever you desire?"

Flint sneered at Adrian, showing off his crooked teeth.  "Watch yourself, blood traitor.”

Adrian had recently realised that to all of the hardcore blood purists, everyone who wasn’t in total agreement with them was a blood traitor.  Adrian didn’t care much for mudbloods, but he sure didn’t hate them enough to want to kill them the way Flint and his kind did. But in Flint’s mind, an unwillingness to kill mudbloods made him a blood traitor.  If Adrian had any doubts that Flint wasn’t a smart fellow, this would have dispelled them from his mind.

Naturally, Adrian took the opportunity to make a jab at Flint’s intelligence.  “Bet you had to think real hard to come up with that one, huh Flint?”

Flint, always far too quick to anger, drew his wand on Adrian and cast a jinx.  Adrian, who had been waiting for this to happen, simply ducked to the side, letting the jinx impact someone in the crowd behind him.  Adrian didn’t particularly care who it hit, only that Marcus was the one to cast the spell and Adrian wasn’t the one to be hit.   Adrian moved to the side as the person behind him cast a jinx back at Marcus, which went wide and hit someone else.

It took less than a minute for the room to be back in full chaos, and Adrian barely had to do a thing to do it.  With any luck, Flint would take the blame for this and get in trouble with Snape, while Pucey would get away scot-free.  A perfect victory.

Outside the room, Severus sighed and dispelled the listening charm.  Things were clearly worse than he thought, and he didn’t think well of them to begin with.

Severus now had to decide if reigning in his house was truly worth swallowing his pride and asking Minvera for suggestions.  And that assumed Minerva would even have a solution.  Otherwise, he would just be admitting his lack of control and have nothing to gain for it.

He sighed and went back to his quarters.  He wasn’t sober enough to deal with this right now.

Harry didn’t know what the social convention was for greeting friends that one hadn’t seen in a week.  He still hadn’t come up with a decent course of action by the time he and Tracey met up with Daphne and Hermione, so he settled on waving shyly at them.  Tracey, on the other hand, pulled each of them into tight hugs that made Hermione look confused and made Daphne stiffen.

“So,” Harry greeted, “Did you guys have fun over the break?”

Hermione smiled.  “Yes! My parents took me on a short skiing trip in the French Alps.  It was an absolutely beautiful area!”

Daphne merely shrugged in response to the question.  “I mostly just interacted with my family and read. By the way, thank you for those books, Hermione.  They’re very interesting.”

Hermione nodded in appreciation before the group began moving back towards the dungeons.

“So, how did you two fare without us?”  Daphne asked. “Tracey didn’t burn down the common room did she?”

Tracey pouted.  “No, I did not burn down the common room, Daph!  Have some faith in your friend!”

Harry coughed, drawing everyone’s attention.  Seeing their eyes on him, he spoke up. “I mean, she didn’t burn down the common room, though she came close at one point…”

“Hey!  We agreed not to talk about that!”

“ You agreed not to talk about that, Trace.  I made no such agreements.”

Tracey crossed her arms and slumped.  “You just have to ruin everything, don’t you?”

Harry rolled his eyes.  “The only thing I ruined were your chances of being expelled.  You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

Hermione and Daphne shared a look before Hermione spoke up.  “So, besides Harry stopping Tracey from being an arsonist-”

“Too late to stop that train…”  Daphne muttered.

“-Did you two get up to anything interesting?”  Hermione finished.

Harry and Tracey exchanged a glance.  “I, uh, did get an interesting present that we’ve been putting to use.”

“Oh!  Who was the present from?”

“Dumbledore.”  Harry and Tracey replied in unison.  “…Probably…” Harry added.

Hermione stopped walking and stared at them.  “You don’t even know who gave it to you!? ”  She asked, incredulous.

“It’s an invisibility cloak, Hermione!  Don’t look a gift thestral in the mouth!”  Tracey protested.

“Hold on,” Daphne butted in, “You have an invisibility cloak?”

Harry shrugged.  “I do now. We’ve been using it to sneak around a lot.  Mostly to get into the restricted section."

Hermione looked torn between outrage from using a gift from an unknown sender and euphoria at the concept of access to the restricted section.  By contrast, Daphne pursed her lips in a way that made it look like she was holding in a smile. 

"Oh?"  Daphne asked.  "And what did you do with your access to the restricted section?"

Harry was confused at the sudden change in Daphne's tone, but answered her nonetheless.  "Well, Tracey was looking into Alchemy, and I was, uh…" Harry trailed off as he remembered Tracey's remarks about the illegality of blood magic.  He pulled out his wand and tried to cast the spell he saw Snape do on the third floor the other day. Harry waved his wand around as best he could remember and spoke the incantation.  " Homenum Revelio ."  Judging by the weakness of the spell he produced, he definitely botched the wand movement somewhere, but he still managed a faint pulse of red.  As the wave passed over his friends, he was treated to the bizarre sensation of being magically aware of their presence near him. The pulse continued down the hallway for a short ways before dissipating, revealing no one else in range.

Daphne raised an eyebrow.  “Well, now that you’ve apparently checked to see if we’re alone, care to tell us what you were looking at that warranted such security?”  Her face remained neutral, but there was a glint in her eyes that Harry couldn’t quite place.

“Uh… Blood magic?”  Harry said hesitantly.

Daphne’s eyes widened slightly.  “Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d go straight for the illegal stuff.”

Harry shrugged.  “I didn’t know it was illegal until I was already interested in the subject.”

“But… but it’s illegal, Harry!”  Hermione protested. “You can’t just break the law!”

Harry shrunk under her rebuke, though Daphne coughed in response.  Once everyone’s eyes were on her, she spoke up.

“It’s… sort of a grey area, actually.”

“What!?”  Tracey objected.  “No it’s not!”

Daphne shook her head.  “Oh, no, blood magic is unquestionably illegal in Magical Britain.  But, due to a mixture of old treaties and laws that haven’t been updated in ages, Hogwarts isn’t technically a part of Magical Britain.  Much like Gringotts, it’s a sovereign territory.  Hogwarts only chooses to enforce the laws of Magical Britain as a matter of courtesy.  Technically, you could do all sorts of blood magic here, and you wouldn’t be breaking any laws, though I wouldn't exactly advertise your practice of it .”

“…You’re kidding me.”  Harry said incredulously.

“I am not kidding you.  Believe me, the laws of Magical Britain are a mess.”

“How do you know this, anyways?  Seems like odd knowledge for a first year to have.”  Harry asked.

Daphne shrugged.  “My father used to keep me entertained by giving me a list of laws and telling me to find a loophole that would let me accomplish a specific task.  I didn’t realise that they weren’t just fun puzzles until I was nine years old.”

Tracey started laughing.  “So that’s why you were always buried in law books!?  You thought they were puzzles!?” She let out several more loud laughs before she was calm enough to speak again.  “Only you, Daph. Only you.”

“But…!  You can’t just…!”  Hermione protested before crossing her arms and huffing.  Harry knew that just because she admitted defeat didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.

“So, have you tried any out yet?”  Daphne asked.

Harry nodded.  “Yeah, I tried some out yesterday.  It was really interesting.”

A small smile showed itself on Daphne’s lips as she held her hand out to Hermione.  Hermione merely scowled back as she reached into her pocket and dropped two sickles into Daphne’s waiting hand.

Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion.  “What was that about…?”

Daphne smiled back.  “Just a small wager between us.  Nothing for you to worry about.”

Harry felt there was more to it, but decided against questioning Daphne.  He really didn’t care enough to make a fuss over it.

Draco was still slightly annoyed at his father when he arrived back at Hogwarts.  Father shouldn’t be doubting his ability to play politics. He was a Malfoy! It’s what they were made for!  The Malfoys had been in politics for as long as they had been in Britain!  (Draco wasn’t actually sure how long his family had been in Britain, but since they were pureblood, he was sure that it was a really long time)

Draco just had to show Longbottom and Macmillan that the blood purists were right!  Really, how hard could that possibly be?

All he had to do was find subtle ways to casually drop it into conversation when the topic came up.  Sure, no opportunities had come up so far, but one was bound to present itself eventually !

Draco entered the Gryffindor common room, trying to ignore the stench of Weasley that permeated the entire room.  At least the one in his year was a Hufflepuff. He’d hate to be forced to share all of his classes with a Weasley in addition to his common room.

Pushing thoughts of the detestable family to the side, Draco moved to the sofa where he often congregated with his friends.  He didn’t have to wait long before Macmillan plopped down beside him.

“So, Draco,” Macmillan asked.  “Did you catch Sunday’s Quidditch match on the wireless?”

And thus, Draco and Ernie began a discussion about Quidditch, all thoughts about politics forgotten.

After another demonstration of blood magic in an endless corridor classroom (This one being thankfully normal), Harry finally started making his way back to the common room with his friends.  Once they were leaving the corridor, Tracey excitedly jumped up and began speaking to them.

“Oh!  With all the other excitement, we almost forgot to tell you the other thing!  We think that they’re keeping the Philosopher’s Stone at the end of the third floor corridor!”

“You’re kidding me.”  Daphne deadpanned at the time that Hermione mouthed “The what?”

“Yes!  Remember how Dumbledore said that the third floor corridor was out of bounds at the starting feast?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance that confirmed that they did not remember Dumbledore saying that.

“I think that Hermione and I had other things on our mind.”  He said in response.

“He said something to the effect of the third floor corridor being out of bounds for ‘those who do not wish to suffer a most painful death’.  I’m kind of amazed you missed it.” Daphne said.

“I’m rather amazed that I did, too, if I’m being honest.”  Hermione said, sounding a little dazed by the realisation. “I mean, this is a school .  Why would an artefact like the, um… What did you say it was again, Tracey?”

“The Philosopher’s Stone.  It’s an alchemical catalyst used to assist transmutation and transubstantiation processes.”  At Hermione’s questioning expression, Tracey continued. “What? Just because I’m not looking into the same stuff that Harry is doesn’t mean that I plan on wasting an opportunity to learn stuff in the restricted section.  There’s all sorts of juicy knowledge locked up in there!”

Hermione continued to look torn between frustration at Tracey’s lackadaisical approach to the rules and hunger at the prospect of getting more reading material, forbiddenness be damned.  By contrast, Daphne looked skeptical.

“You don’t honestly believe they would actually be keeping the Philosopher’s stone in a school, do you?”   Daphne asked. “I mean, yes, Hogwarts is technically a fortress, but keeping something so valuable and sought after in a place where there are countless children who would be placed in danger?  I know Dumbledore’s gone a bit… odd in his old age, but I can’t see him doing something that reckless. Tell us exactly what you heard that makes you suspect this."

Tracey ran through the overheard conversation between Snape and Quirrell.  Harry picked up when she got to the room with the mirror, as her recollection of the event was somewhat fuzzy.

"Sounds like a dark artefact."  Daphne said when Harry described the mirror.  "Though I don't know of any particular artefacts called 'The Mirror of Erised'."

"It's a pretty silly name."  Hermione added. "I mean, it's just 'desire' spelled backwards."

Everyone else quieted at that.  After a second, Daphne spoke up. 

"I can't believe that I didn't realise that."

Hermione shrugged.  "You don't know everything, Daphne."

"Much to my displeasure."

The group quieted for a moment as they thought through the information.

"Well, we don't know that they're storing the Philosopher's Stone, but we do know that they are storing a valuable stone at the end of the third floor corridor.  And we know that either Snape suspects Quirrell of wanting to steal it, or Snape wants to steal it for himself and deflect suspicion onto Quirrell by accusing him."  Daphne said.

"Or someone else wants to steal it and they've deflected blame onto Quirrell, and Snape suspects Quirrell because of that."  Harry added.

Daphne thought about it for a moment before nodding in agreement.  "Yes, I suppose that's also possible. I'm somewhat skeptical that Snape would be easily deceived, but it is possible."

Hermione jumped in after that.  "We also know that Dumbledore was working with a dark artefact in an empty classroom near the third floor corridor.  Do you think it could be for some kind of trap?"

"If it is a trap, then the stone is probably bait."  Harry said. "I think the first thing we should do is try to figure out what stone is being kept on the third floor, then we can figure out where to go from there."

"Well, this should be a fun diversion."  Hermione said. "Studying with a purpose is always more fun than studying aimlessly."

Tracey turned to face the group.  "Time to solve a mystery, people!"

Harry sighed.  He supposed this was just his life now.

Chapter Text

“This is a bad idea…”  Daphne muttered as Tracey guided her, Harry, and Hermione to the end of the third floor corridor.  Daphne glanced around the abandoned corridor, noting the eerie silence that pervaded the area. “This is a really bad idea…”

Tracey was, of course, unswayed by her hesitance.  “Well, you didn’t want to go to Parvati!”

“Of course I didn’t.”  Daphne protested. “If we ask her what’s in the third floor corridor, then she’ll know that we’re curious about the third floor corridor.  I am not handing that girl easy blackmail material on us. Just because she’s been helpful to us in the past doesn’t mean that she won’t turn against us given reason”

“That’s very cynical of you, Daphne.”  Tracey commented.

“We’re Slytherins, Tracey.  We’re supposed to be cynical.”  Daphne hissed before turning to Harry and Hermione.  “Please back me up on this, you two.”

Harry shrugged and Hermione was unresponsive.  “I, uh, think we’ll stay out of this argument.”  Harry said.

“You always stay out of our arguments.”  Daphne groaned. “I would really appreciate some backup sometimes.”

“Call it self preservation.”  Hermione retorted.

“See, Tracey?  She’s cynical.”  Daphne said triumphantly.

Daphne couldn’t see if Hermione rolled her eyes, but the sigh she gave made it seem like a pretty likely that she did.

It didn’t take much longer for the group to arrive at the end of the corridor.  A single door lay in the middle of the wall at the corridor’s end.

“So… what do we do now?”  Harry asked.

Before Daphne could voice her opinion, Tracey was loudly rattling the door.  “It’s locked.” She said definitively.

“Of course it’s locked!”  Daphne groaned. “It’s a forbidden corridor guarding a valuable object.  It’s not like we’ll be able to get past this door without being smart about it.  To start with, we should probably cast some detection charms to see what kind of security we’ll be dealing with.”

The group stared at Hermione.

Hermione gave them an ascance look.  “Just because I know more spells than you guys doesn’t mean I know every spell, you know.  I don’t know any detection charms.”

“None at all?”  Daphne asked. She had trouble believing that.

Hermione just shrugged.  “Not unless you want me to recreate Harry’s shoddy attempt at a humanoid revealing charm.”

“Hey!”  Harry protested.  “It wasn’t that bad!”

Daphne shot him a skeptical look, and she was sure that Tracey and Hermione were doing the same.

“…Okay, it was pretty bad…”  Harry admitted.

“So what now?”  Tracey asked.

“I’m not sure…”  Hermione said. “I guess we should just see what information we can gather without using magic?  Or at least without using detection charms…”

Daphne scoffed.  “Please. There’s no way an artefact like the Philosopher’s Stone wouldn’t have wards to block mundane scrying used in its protection.”

“Wanna bet?”  Tracey asked as she pressed her ear to the door.

“Sure.  There’s no way-”

“I hear growling.”  Tracey observed.

“…You’re kidding me.”   Daphne replied as she pressed her ear up to the door.

Daphne continued to listen to the door in denial.  There was no conceivable way that whoever set up the wards forgot to put up a sound cancellation one.

“Is this… an intimidation tactic or something?”  She asked. “Or maybe fake noise generation to throw would-be thieves off?”

“Why don’t we find out?”  Hermione asked, pulling out her wand and pressing it against the door.

“You don’t actually think you can open it, do you?”  Daphne asked, aghast.

“Of course not.”  Hermione replied. “Even if I was able to open the door and was able to do so without tripping any alarms, then we’d still have to worry about what would be on the other side.  I don’t plan on facing the source of that growling in person, at least not without having a plan.”

“So what are you…?”  Daphne began to ask as Hermione closed her eyes in concentration. 

Half a minute later, Hermione gave an exasperated sigh.  “Figures that that wouldn’t work. On to plan B…” Hermione pressed her wand against the wall to the side of the door and closed her eyes again.  Gradually, a small patch of the wall appeared to glisten before darkening and spreading across the stone. It was so bizarre that it took Daphne a moment to even realise what she was seeing.

“Hermione… Did you just… transfigure that brick into glass?”  Daphne asked.

“Yes.”  She replied, wiping sweat from her brow.  “The wall was less resistant to being transfigured than the door.”

Daphne’s first thought was that she couldn’t believe she didn’t think of that first.  Her second thought was that Hermione had to be insanely powerful if she was able to overpower the wards to the extent that she could transfigure part of the wall.  Either that, or the wall wasn’t warded at all and this room was just here to mess with people. Daphne’s bet was on the last one, if only because that seemed on par for the weirdness factor of her life at this point.

(Why was she surrounded by people who just drew in chaos?)

“It’s too dark to see anything, though.”  Tracey said as she pressed her face up against the glass brick.

“Oh!  I might be able to do something about that…”  Harry said. He rummaged through his pockets before pulling out a small pin and pricking his thumb.  It took her a moment to realise he was about to use his blood-boosted Lumos charm again.

“Get ready, guys.  This is going to be bright…”

As if that needed to be stated.  Daphne could still recall the searing brightness of the spell the first time he gave her and Hermione a demonstration.

Much to Daphne’s surprise, Tracey actually listened to Harry and backed up from the wall.  In all of the years that they had been friends, Tracey had rarely been one to heed warnings.

Harry then whispered “ Lumos ”, and the hall was filled with light.  Brilliant illumination shone out from the cracks around the door and the glass brick beside the doorway.  Daphne watched him struggle as the light pouring through the glass dimmed to the point where they could see.

“It looks like… a three headed dog?”  Tracey stated.

As if one cue, the growling coming through the door grew louder and quickly turned into barking.

Daphne stared at the door in disbelief.  There was no way they had brought a cerberus into the school.  They were class XXXX creatures, for the Morrigan’s sake! Using one as a guard was sensible in an isolated area, but a school was not an isolated location, even if the wing of said school was forbidden.

“We are not opening that door without a very solid plan.”  Daphne stated. “Those things are very dangerous and very hard to take down.”

Tracey pulled back from the wall as the brick’s transfiguration ended and it reverted back to its usual stone state.

“So, uh, what now?”  She asked.

“Now?  Now… I’m not sure.  We confirmed that something is being guarded there, especially if they brought in a cerberus.  They’re notoriously aggressive guardians.” Daphne said.

“Do you know any of their weaknesses?”  Harry asked as he pulled his wand out from under the door.

Daphne shook her head.  “They’re rare enough creatures that their weaknesses are not common knowledge.  Even if we did know how to take one down, though, we shouldn’t. There’s no telling what other protections would lay past the dog.”

“Time to do research!”  Hermione said, her face brightening into a smile.

Tracey groaned.  “Hermione, you spend almost all of your time in the library!  We won’t find out big secrets from reading published material!  Secrets are going to be protected, not published!”

Hermione huffed indignantly.  “Understanding existing knowledge is the foundation of discovering new knowledge.  What better way to find out secret knowledge than discovering secrets of your own?”

“How can you be so interesting and so boring at the same time!?”  Tracey whined.

Harry clearly sensed the oncoming argument and cut it off.  “I think maybe we should do a bit more investigating first, so we can get all our research done at once.  Hagrid knows a lot about rare and dangerous creatures, so why don’t we ask him if he knows anything?”

Hermione and Tracey both look put out at someone preventing their debate, though Daphne was just glad it didn’t happen.  Her life was already too stressful for her taste. How did other people manage to have friends without exhausting themselves?

“Fine.”  Hermione sighed.  “Let’s go see Hagrid.”

Parvati strode into the meeting place she had arranged with the Weasley twins, with two of her subordinates trailing behind her.  Carmichael had to be left behind to run things in her stead, so she had two of her seventh-year subordinates, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff, attending in his stead.  Of course, she had her own reasons for picking these exact two seventh-years, but those reasons were not for the ears of pesky ginger twins, nor anyone else, for that matter. 

After all, knowledge is power, and very few people are worthy of power.

She took several strides into the room before a large downpour of liquid fell from the ceiling above her.  The Weasley twins looked to be holding in a giggle, at least until they noticed that once the liquid cleared, her robes were still dry and whatever latent prank they put in the liquid didn’t trigger.

“Yes… what was that supposed to do?”  She asked dryly.

The twins exchanged a brief glance but didn’t say anything, shock still apparent on their faces.

“Right then,” she said, ignoring their silence, “let’s get down to business.  We know that you have a way to access the wards of the castle. We want access to it so we can study it and try and reverse engineer it.  We learn how to access your backdoor, and at the end of the week, you two get to walk away with your little artefact. We pay you for your trouble, and everyone wins.”

Grins stretched across the twins faces at her demand.  Parvati was almost certain that it wouldn’t be that easy, but setting the stakes early on was vital.

The twins, of course, simply continued to grin back at her.

“You know, ‘Dark Mistress’, we may not want to part with our artefact at all.”  The twin on the left said.

“Indeed.”  The twin on the right replies.  “After all, why should we give an edge to any potential competition?”

“We could be convinced to provide a service, though.”

“For a fee, of course.  Pranks don’t grow on trees after all.”

Parvati clenched her fists.  The only money she currently had access to was the profits from her organisation, and most of those profits were about to be spent expanding her network.  She could afford a one-time payment, but a per-use fee would be too much of a setback to be acceptable.

Time to make a power play.

She stretched her hand out shortly before a pulse of magic moving through the room, immobilising the pesky redheads.  She then clenched her fist drew it towards her body as the twins’ immobilised forms floated towards her.

“I do not find that to be an acceptable price.  I am going to explain my terms to you before I release you.  You are going to show us this artefact, explain how to operate it.  We’ll give it back to you with a nice sack of galleons when we’re done as payment for ‘services’, and you are going to forget about our exchange and never retaliate against us.  Deal?”

The twins, of course, did not reply, what with them being immobilised.  Parvati unclenched her hand, at which point the immobilisation was cancelled and the twins dropped to the ground.

Parvati leaned down to whisper in their ears.  “Do we have an understanding?”

The twins push themselves up from the ground.  One of them was clearly angry about being outdone, while the other simply seemed intrigued.  Parvati made a note of that for later. Being able to tell the twins apart was information that lots of people would pay for, simply to avoid the headache the duo tended to cause when in the same room.

The twins began whispering to each other, with the angry one shooting periodic glares at her as they discussed.  They continued on like that for several minutes before the calm one spoke up.

“We want forty galleons upfront payment.”

“And access to the map on request while you research it.”  The angry one added

Parvati held back any emotion from showing on her face.  Forty galleons was… a lot of money. It would cut through all of her personal savings plus this month’s miscellaneous budget.

“You two had best hope that your little trinket is worth it.”  She said with a scowl.

After handing over the specified number of galleons, the angry twin pulled out a piece of parchment.

One brief explanation later, Parvati was staring at the map in hunger.

It was the ultimate tool for tracking everything in Hogwarts.  People were identified and located, every passage and how to open it was laid bare, and she was certain there were more secrets buried in its depths.

This was absolutely worth the price.

Parvati grabbed the map and tucked it into her robes.  “Well, gentlemen, I believe our business here is concluded.  I shall be in touch once we have an idea of how long the process will take.”

As she strode out of the room, her minions in tow, one of the twins asked her a question.

“How did you do that wandless magic trick?”

“Knowledge is power,” she replied, “and I have a lot of knowledge.”

Once she was a decent distance from the meeting space, she turned around to address her minions.

“Cancel the illusions.”  She commanded.

All three of them shimmered.  With the illusions dispelled, Parvati was visibly drenched in thick fluid that had stained her hair and robes with hideous streaks of bright colour.  Dispelling the illusion around her minions made them appear unchanged, which was entirely the point. She never could have pulled off her “wandless magic” display without help.

Parvati was nowhere near skilled enough for wandless magic, especially not at her age, but she could certainly make unnecessarily dramatic gestures.  Her minions were the ones doing the actual magic, and their illusions were just to hide their wand-waving. It was a truly ingenious display, if she said so herself.

“Never let your opponents realise the true extent of your power, be it weakness or strength.”  She was really starting to appreciate the value of those words.

Parvati glanced down at her hideously chromatic outfit.

“I have no idea how long this ‘prank’ will take to wear off.”  She told her bodyguards. “Tell Carmichael to handle the rest of the day’s meetings until I call him off.  In the meantime…” She pulled the map out of her robes. “Get this to the research division. Remember to tell them the exact password.  ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good’. No contractions, so it’s ‘I am’, not ‘I’m’.”

They nodded affirmatively, so she took her leave.

“I need to take a shower…”  She muttered to herself as she walked back to the common room.  Being a Dark Lady was hard.

Hermione was full of conflicting emotions as she walked towards Hagrid’s hut with her friends.  On one hand, this “investigation” that they were doing was genuinely interesting, and it reminded Hermione of the mystery novels she read as a child (Mysteries were the one type of fiction she didn’t consider a waste of time).  On the other hand, they were blatantly breaking school rules to do so, which didn’t sit well with her.  At the same time, they were breaking rules set by people who thought keeping a dangerous creature in a castle was a good idea.  If they were willing to do something like that, could they be trusted to make sensible rules? Above all else, though, Hermione simply wanted to know what was going on.  She couldn't stand not knowing things.

And so, at Harry and Tracey's insistence, they were all visiting Hagrid to try and get some information about the man.  Again, Hermione was of two minds about that. On the one hand, she didn't think it was fair that they were using the man's forthcoming tendencies to mine him for information.  On the other hand, Hermione knew that he was their best bet for figuring out what the deal was with the third floor corridor, and getting information out of Hagrid was rarely more complicated than engaging the man in conversation and simply waiting for him to spill the beans.

In the end, Hermione's drive for information won out, hence why she was following her friends instead of staying back in the common room in an act of protest.

(A small part of her insisted that she would have gone with them even if she decided they were in the wrong.  If her friends were going, with or without her, then she may as well ensure that they at least asked the right questions.)

Harry knocked on the door, only faintly flinching when Fang started barking.  His slight reaction made Hermione realise that she still hadn't gotten around to pressing him on his past.  While she didn't want to pressure him, she did make a note to at least get him to talk about it before the school year ended.

After his usual reprimands of his dog’s behaviour, Hagrid opened the door and greeted them.

“Oh, well hello you four!”  He greeted brusquely. “What brings you around here?”

“Just here for a visit, Hagrid”  Daphne said sweetly.

After Hagrid had served them the usual inedible rock cakes and absurdly strong tea, Tracey began asking him questions.  Hermione wondered just what he did to make the rock cakes so heavily resemble their namesake. On the few occasions she could see one that Hagrid had bitten through, it looked like a normal cake, just impossibly hard to the touch.  There must have been magic involved, because Hermione refused to accept that it was possible to make a normal cake turn out so… rock-like.

“Say, Hagrid,” Tracey began, “you like magical creatures, right?”

“Oh, of course!”  Hagrid blustered. “Vastly misunderstood, most beasts are.  I have this dream of taking over professor Kettleburn’s Care of Magical Creatures class when he retires, which may be sooner rather than later, from what I’ve heard.”

“What sorts of creatures do you deal with?  I mean, you’re the groundskeeper, so I’m sure you encounter lots of things in the forbidden forest or even around the castle.”  Tracey asked.

“Ah, well sure I do!  Most of what I deal with are the centaurs, since I’m one of the few people they respect.  I also keep watch over the forest’s unicorns, just to make sure they’re doing alright. And of course, I also help manage the thestral herd and tie them up to the carriages when Hogsmeade weekends come around.”

“Hold on.”  Daphne butted in.  “The carriages are pulled by thestrals?  Aren’t they highly aggressive and carnivorous?”

“Oh no, not at all!”  Hagrid said, clearly taken aback by Daphne’s question.  “They’re mighty docile, and they’re actually scavengers, not hunters.  Most people just think they’re dangerous because of the whole ‘death’ thing they have going on.”

“Death thing?”  Hermione mouthed to Harry, who simply shrugged cluelessly at her.

“Anyways, what other creatures to you have to deal with?”  Tracey asked, trying to steer Hagrid back towards giving them information.

“Ah, well, there’s some hippogriffs out in the paddock, though they’re mostly wild creatures that don’t need much handling.  And then there’s also Aragog, though I’m not supposed to talk about him.”

Well, that seemed promising.  Hermione took over the conversation before Tracey had a chance to push him too hard.

“Surely you can trust us, Hagrid?  We promise that we won’t tell anyone without your permission.”  Hermione said, trying to ignore the fact that she didn’t feel as guilty about sweet-talking him as she should.

“Ah, well, I suppose you may have a point there…  Aragog is, well, he’s an acromantula. I raised him myself, back when I was in school.  He wound up fleeing into the forest in my third year, and I helped raise him ever since.  I still go and visit him and help him get what he needs, which isn’t much nowadays. The colony is pretty self-sufficient by this point.”

“Acromantula?”  Hermione whispered into Daphne’s ear.  “Aren’t those the giant, man-eating spiders?  And there’s a whole colony of them in the forest!?”

Daphne nodded numbly in response.

While Hermione (along with everyone else) was absorbing the implications of an acromantula colony in the forest, Tracey abandoned any pretence of subtlety.

“What about cerberi?”  She asked.

“Cerberi?”  Hagrid counterqueried. 

“Three-headed dogs.”  Daphne clarified.

“Oh, you mean like Fluffy.  They’re mighty rare creatures, you know.  Certainly not in most books. I think they’re only in the extended edition of Fantastic Beasts, come to think of it…”

“How did you come across such a rare creature?”  Hermione asked.

“And how did you tame it?”  Tracey added.

“Ah, I got him from a Greek fella I met in the Hog’s Head a few years back.  There’s all kinds of strange fellows that come through there, I’ll tell you what.  Anyhow, Fluffy was mighty feisty when I got him but thankfully the fella I got him from gave me a few pointers.”

“Like what?”  Tracey asked, a grin appearing on her face as she asked.

“Well, how to calm him, for one.  It’s pretty simple, actually. All you have to do is…”  Hagrid paused as he caught sight of Tracey’s grin. “Oh no.  Oh, you didn’t.” He sighed. “You lot have been snooping around the forbidden corridor, haven’t you?”

“I’m shocked by your accusation!”  Tracey said with far too much flourish.  “I am the paragon of innocence!”

Hermione watched Daphne stifle a sigh at Tracey’s melodramatics.  Tracey was very bad at keeping a straight face when she was up to something, and this time, it cost them their opportunity to get relevant information about the corridor (such as why there was a cerberus in the school, or how to calm it).

“Professor Dumbledore told you all that it was dangerous!”  Hagrid complained. “You shouldn’t be snooping around there!  Fluffy may be tame, but the other obstacles past him are anything but!  I don’t want any of you hurting yourselves tryna sneak past devil’s snare or a troll!”

Well, perhaps this visit wouldn’t be a total waste after all.  They had learned that there were additional obstacles, and they included devil’s snare and a troll.  Hermione filed this information away, wondering what was valuable enough to bring such deadly things into the school for its protection.  She had a bad enough experience dealing with the one troll on Halloween, and was in no rush to deal with another used to guard some treasure.  She exchanged a glance with Harry, who’d been a silent observer throughout this whole conversation. When she caught his eye, he simply looked at her and shrugged.

Like Hermione, Harry had his reservations about using Hagrid for information.  Unlike Hermione, he was not bothered enough to raise any protests. He did say he would be refraining from participating in the questioning, though he chalked that up to a lack of experience in the matter rather than any objection to doing so.

“But Hagrid, if you don’t tell us what we’ll be dealing with, then we’ll be in all sorts of danger when we ignore you and investigate anyways!  Imagine how guilty you’ll feel about whatever harm comes to us!” Tracey protested with mock hurt.

Hagrid appeared to believe her for a second, but he then shook his head.  “I’m not telling you anything, and that’s final!” He all but shouted.

Tracey pouted, and Hermione decided to intervene before she made an even bigger mess out of things.

“I’m sorry about Tracey, Hagrid.  You know how… excitable she gets when something draws her attention.”

Hagrid let out a deep sigh.  “Yeah, yeah, I do. I met your mum a couple of times, and you’re a lot like her, you know.”

Tracey beamed with pride.  Hermione wasn’t honestly sure that Hagrid’s remark was supposed to be a compliment, though Hermione had a very… incomplete picture of what Mrs. Davis was actually like.  So far, all she’d been able to gleam was that people seemed kind of scared of her.

“We’re all terribly sorry for bothering you, Hagrid.”  Hermione said as she started to push Tracey towards the door, with Daphne and Harry following close behind.  “Aren’t we, Tracey?” She asked forcefully.

Tracey looked like she wanted to protest, but then thought better of it.  “Yes. Sorry Mister Hagrid.”

Hagrid sighed again.  “It’s fine. Just… don’t call me mister.  And don’t go sneaking around the forbidden corridor, you hear?  It’s forbidden for a reason, and you lot have no right to be sneaking around there, trying to uncover its secrets.  Leave it be and trust Professor Dumbledore to handle it.”

Hermione noted Hagrid’s admission that Dumbledore was indeed involved in the third floor corridor, which said something about Dumbledore’s mental state and/or priorities.  She wasn’t sure which was called into question more.

After Daphne had herded the group out of Hagrid’s hut, she turned to Tracey.  “You have got to work on your subtlety. Hagrid figured out you were mining him for information.  Hagrid, the oblivious, if well-meaning, man who is known for handing out information like it’s candy.  You were being obvious enough that he caught on.”

“Subtlety is boring.”  Tracey declared smugly.

Daphne groaned.  “You are the worst Slytherin.”

“Well, we did learn some new things.”  Hermione said. “We know that Dumbledore is responsible for… whatever is going on with the corridor, and we know that there are other obstacles past the cerberus, including devil’s snare and a troll.”

“I feel like we’re missing something, though…”  Daphne replied. “I mean, sure, we’d be hard-pressed to get past these obstacles, but we’re only first years.  I would think that the Philosopher’s Stone would be better guarded. I’m honestly starting to doubt that it’s here at all.  I mean, you two only heard that ‘the stone’ was being stored there. We don’t know what ‘the stone’ in question is.”

“What other types of stones could it be?”  Harry asked.

“The resurrection stone!”  Tracey shouted with her usual enthusiasm.

Daphne shook her head.  “Tracey, that’s a fairy tale and you know it.”

“I’m not familiar with this fairy tale.”  Hermione said. “What is it?”

“I’ll give you a copy of The Tales of Beedle The Bard to look over, if you’d like.”

“Sure, I suppose.”  Hermione replied. A book of fairy tales was bound an opportunity to learn the stories that the parents of the wizarding world told their children.   That was supposed to be a great window into the morality of a culture.

“I still say we go after it.  No matter what this ‘stone’ is, it’ll be valuable and, more importantly, interesting.”  Tracey said before skipping off back towards the castle.

“We’re never going to be wanting for excitement with her around, are we?”  Harry asked.

“If my experience is anything to go by, then no, we aren’t.”  Daphne replied.

“And remember,” Albus said to the two students he caught trying to break into Professor Snape’s quarters, “that at Hogwarts, help will always be given to those who ask for it.”

The two upper year Hufflepuffs looked extremely confused and uncomfortable.  “We’ll keep that in mind, sir.” One of them mumbled under her breath.

“Now then,”  Albus continued, eyes twinkling, “you two had best be off to your lessons.  You wouldn’t want to be late, after all.”

It was Sunday.  There were no lessons today.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, professor.”  She said, grabbing her companion and running off down the hallways.

Once the students had turned the corner, Albus turned around and dismantled the locking ward on Severus’s quarters.  Let the man fret in his paranoia that someone had tampered with his things. He smiled to himself as he began walking back towards his office.

The first term was absolutely terrible for Albus, but he was certainly making up for lost time.  He made a point to find at least one group of rule-breaking students every week, and at the rate he was going, he was about to set a new record.  He hadn’t been this productive in years .  He had almost no time to devote to fun in the years during and after the war, and after the hubbub following Voldemort’s banishment had calmed down, his skills had lost their touch from over a decade of being unused.  Now, he was finally starting to get back into his groove.

It was really a pity that he was only regaining his groove after Voldemort had supposedly re-emerged.  Albus was really hoping that Britain’s dark lord would be out of play for at least another decade. Long enough for Albus to finally start piecing together exactly how he had made himself immortal.  Tom Riddle had covered his tracks far too well for Albus to be comfortable taking him on.

Indeed, it was his lack of progress on that front that led to his current gamble: a trap using the Philosopher’s Stone as bait.  Nicolas was hesitant, but agreed once Albus laid out the full extent of his plans and the potential trouble that they could save down the line.  Nicolas had never been one to undertake unnecessary or unfavourable risks.

Despite how carefully he laid out his trap, though, he’d yet to hear anything about anyone getting close to it.  He’d even carefully had rumours spread around Albania, the location that Voldemort’s spirit was last rumoured to have been seen, but nothing had come of it.  It was as though Voldemort had simply vanished. Albus knew that Voldemort actually disappearing was simply too good to be true, and not knowing his enemy’s next move filled Albus with dread.  If he wasn’t careful, then Voldemort could strike him when he least expected it, and there was no way that could go well.

Albus pushed his worries to the side.  While it was good to stay on his toes, he was not one for paranoia.  There was no need for that when he could simply ask for Alastor Moody’s opinion, after all.

He was about to enter his office when the wards let him know that some of the students were entering the forbidden forest unsupervised.

Albus smiled to himself as he prepared to stealthily ambush them.  A headmaster’s work is never done.

“I don’t see why this was in the restricted section.”  Harry said as he watched Hermione and Daphne flip their way through Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them: The Extended Edition .

“Some of these creatures are kind of nightmarish.”  Daphne said as they turned another page. “The worst in the normal edition are Dementors and Lethifolds.  Some of the things here, like obscurials and wendigos, are outright terrifying.”

“It’s annoying that the creatures are alphabetised by their formal name rather than their common one…”  Hermione said as she turned another page. “It makes it hard to find out more information about something that we’ve only heard in passing…”

Harry saw Tracey bouncing on her heels in boredom, looking around as if hoping something would appear out of nowhere to keep her entertained.  Harry was feeling a bit antsy himself, so he turned to Hermione and Daphne.

“Tracey and I are going to go to the alchemy section to try and research what kinds of stones might be hidden in the corridor.”  He said. “You two can keep the cloak, since this is a more open area. It wouldn’t do for us to be caught in here, after all.”

“Check the enchanting section, too.”  Daphne suggested. “I think I remember my mum mentioning that some stones are used as enchanting catalysts.”

“Okay, we’ll do that.”  Harry said as a bouncing Tracey grabbed his hand and started to pull him away.

“Thanks for that.”  Tracey said with a grin.  “I get bored if I’m not doing anything.”

“I’ve noticed.”  Harry said. “And I can relate.  I hate standing around if I feel like I can be doing something.”

“I suppose we’re birds of a feather, then.”  Tracey said as she started pulling books off the shelves.  “Now, then, I don’t know exactly how fruitful this search will be, but it’s worth looking.  Here, check this book of common alchemical catalysts for anything that mentions a ‘stone’.”

Harry began looking through the book.  As he turned through the pages, he realised his ignorance of the field.

“Tracey… What exactly is alchemy, anyways?”

Tracey looked up from her book.  “It’s, um… well, it’s kind of hard to explain simply.  You know how transfigurations are always temporary?”

Harry nodded.  “That was one of the first things Professor McGonagall taught us.”

“Right, well, alchemy is a sort of loophole to that.  It’s based heavily on ‘material principles’, which is the same reasoning behind why certain ingredients are used in various potions.  Each ingredient has a specific list of principles that add certain traits to potions. Alchemy is based heavily on using the principles of materials to induce permanent change.”

Harry barely followed that explanation.  “Can you… give me an example?”

“Well, the easiest form of alchemy is simply causing an item to assume a new shape using magic.  For example, a bar of metal could be formed into something like a sphere or, in the hands of a more talented alchemist, something more intricate like a cog.”

Okay, Harry was able to follow that.  “Okay, I think I get it now.”

“Of course, alchemy is capable of doing a lot more than that.  Some alchemical reactions use catalysts, like the philosopher’s stone, which is used to induce the transmutation of one metal into another metal.  Of course, the most common application of that transmutation process is turning things to gold, since gold runs the economy. That said, it’s able to induce the change from any metal into any other metal.”

Harry was still mostly following along.

“And then, there are more elaborate versions.  For example, goblins use a type of alchemical enchantment when forging their weapons.  This enchantment allows the weapons to absorb the effects of anything that would make the weapon stronger, like venom, or even the effects of certain spells.  The weapon is able to fully contain the effects of what it absorbed, permanently.”

Harry was starting to feel lost.  What was enchanting? Also, goblins forged things?

“And then there are even more complicated forms of alchemy, like substance replication and concept extraction, but I’m still reading through the introductory books.  It’s a widely varied art, though.”

“Right, I gathered that.”  Harry replied.

Harry’s brain was still trying to understand Tracey’s explanation when she spoke up.

“Any luck in that book?”

Harry had barely looked at the book.  “No, none so far.” He stared at the page, not reading any of the words.  “So how are you able to understand all of this so easily?”

Tracey laughed.  “‘Easy’. This is not easy.  I’m just really good at understanding material principles since it’s the basis behind all potions, and I pride myself on that being my best subject.  The leap to alchemy from potions is far easier than the one from transfiguration.”

“Right.”  Harry continued to stare at the book, trying his best to scan the pages for the word ‘stone’.  “Alchemy sounds kind of like chemistry. The muggle science, that is. I’m sure if you ask Hermione, she could get you a book on it for your birthday.”

“Sounds good to me.  Just in case I forget to mention it to her, my birthday is March fifteenth.”

“Alright, then.”  Most of the mentions of ‘stones’ in the book were talking about how alchemical catalysts affected stone materials.  Very few of them were stones in their own right. Harry wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the book and his vision was already starting to blur.  How did Tracey manage to go at this for hours?

Just as Harry was about to suggest checking out the enchantments section, Hermione rushed in and slammed the book down on the table.  Daphne entered the alchemy section as Hermione started to read.

“Found it.”  She said smugly.  “‘The Tricanis Hades , or Greek Cerberus, is a large and loyal three-headed beast often employed as a guard.’  There are a lot of details in here that aren’t relevant to us, but they tend to have a weakness for song and music.  Simply playing music for a minute or so tends to put them to sleep.”

“Oh, that’s relatively simple.”  Harry said. “Do any of us know how to sing or play an instrument?”

No one said anything.

“Right then.”  Harry sighed. “Any weaknesses that we can exploit?”

“Simultaneous spells.”  Daphne said. “Because it has three brains, a single sleeping or stunning charm won’t have an effect.  But if we can each manage hit hit a head with a sleeping charm at the same time…”

“Then we can put it to sleep.”  Hermione finished.

“Looks like it’s time for us to start getting in some spell practice.”  Harry said. “I doubt we’re coordinated enough to do that right now, especially if it starts attacking us.”

“Whoo!  Teamwork!”  Tracey shouted without looking up from her alchemy book.

Chapter Text

“All right,” Harry addressed his group of friends, “in order to take down the cerberus, we need to put all three of its heads asleep at the same time.  I doubt it will just let us do that, so we need to practice not only coordinating our spells so that we can cast at the same time, but we need to work on hitting targets while moving.  I think we should start by trying to hit targets while moving, then work on casting simultaneously before we eventually combine the two. Sound good?”

Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey all nodded, so Harry moved back toward them.  They had asked a few of the teachers if there were any places in the castle with targets to practice spellcasting, and Professor Flitwick was able to direct them to one of the training rooms used by the school’s dueling club earlier in the century.  The room obviously hadn’t seen much use in the time since the dueling club’s disbandment, so it had taken them a week to clean it to a usable state.

Now, though, they were finally ready to begin.

“What spells should we practice besides the sleeping charm?”  Hermione asked.

Harry paused.  “Um… I’m not actually sure.  What spells are generally useful?”

“The fire charm!”  Tracey shouted giddily.

Daphne sighed.  “Tracey’s pyromania aside, the fire charm is a good spell to know.  It’s a good spell for warding off all sorts of dangerous plants, and Hagrid did say that devil’s snare was an obstacle in the corridor.  Anyone else have any suggestions?”

“The knockback jinx is generally useful for dealing with anything that isn’t alive.”  Harry added. “Though given that the last obstacle we know about is a troll, it wouldn’t be very useful unless we had obstacles and debris that we could knock into it.  What sorts of spells are useful against a troll, anyways?”

“Fire generally works well, from what Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them had to say.”  Hermione said. “Though basic spells like Incendio are too weak to do anything significant.  We could try learning the fire stream charm, Imflamare .  It’s not taught until third year, but I don’t think that it’s too hard to cast from what I read about it.”

“Spells that bypass its magic-resistant hide would also work.”  Daphne commented. “Most of those are sixth and seventh year spells, but we’ve already learned the tripping jinx.  Trolls aren’t known for having fine movement, so tripping one would likely incapacitate it.”

“Hold on – you mean that when Hermione and I were running from the troll, I could have stopped it with a tripping jinx!?”

“Probably, but I wouldn’t have counted on it.  Even spells that bypass its hide would be weaker.  At best, you would have stumbled it for a second. If we wanted it to have an effect, then we’d all have to hit it at the same time.”

Harry nodded.  “Right, so we’ll add that to the list of spells to practice.  Hermione, do you have any suggestions?”

Hermione paused and thought it over.  “I think that we should practice moving around in smokescreens.  Harry, I’m assuming from your fight against the troll that you’re proficient in that charm?”  At Harry’s affirmation, she continued. “In that case, we should practice moving around under its effect.”

“That would be useful, but I wouldn’t put it as a high priority.”  Daphne interjected. “It’s already likely to take us several months to learn this stuff, and we really shouldn’t waste more time than necessary.”

“That’s true.  We wouldn’t want…”  Harry trailed off, then blinked a few times.  “Why are we doing this?”

“I want to steal the Philosopher’s Stone!”  Tracey exclaimed.

“I want to know if the headmaster is actually foolish enough to keep the Philosopher’s Stone in a school.”  Daphne said dryly.

“I just couldn’t resist a good mystery.”  Hermione said with a shrug.

“It’s just…”  Harry paused. “Is it really worth spending several months devoted to practice?”

“Do you have any better ideas for how we could spend our time?  Hermione’s already read her way through half the library.” Daphne asked.

“…No.  No, I guess I don’t have any better ideas.”

“I’m surprised that you’re the one protesting.”  Hermione said. “After all, you’re the one who always complains about doing too much studying and not enough practical work.”

Harry ignored Hermione’s jab and turned to face to row of dummies.  “Okay then, let’s get started. First exercise is casting sleeping spells while moving.  Go!”

Harry whipped up his wand and gave it a quarter twist to the left as he began strafing in the same direction.  Just as he was about to say the incantation to the sleeping spell, he ran headlong into someone. As the person he now identified as Tracey began falling on top of him, he saw her sleeping spell go wide and hit Hermione, causing her to fall to the ground.

Daphne revived Hermione with her usual air of calmness before turning to stare at them all neutrally.

“Well then, what did we learn from that?”  She asked.

“I learned that we are going to need a lot of practice.”  Harry said as he shoved Tracey off of him.

The Chief Gatherer entered the domain of the Dark Mistress of Knowledge and proceeded towards the backroom that housed their research department.  The Head Researcher (who happened to be their only researcher) was hunched over the parchment that the Dark Mistress had obtained from the Weasley twins.  The expression on the Researcher’s face and his frequent sighs alerted the Gatherer to the fact that the research was likely not going well.

“The Dark Mistress would like an update, Head Researcher Atkins.”

The Researcher let out a deep sigh.  “It’s not going as well as I would like.  I think I’ve isolated the backdoor that this map uses to key into the wards, but I can’t seem to be able to replicate it.  It’s like the map’s creators had some sort of access permission that I don’t. Also, the map keeps insulting me and laughing at me when I fail.”

The Gatherer peered over at the map, and sure enough, a scrawl of text was visible that contained numerous insults against his skill and ability, and well as frequent sections full of written laughs.

“I wasn’t aware that the map had a sense of humour.”  The Gatherer commented.

“There are four personalities in the map, and they all have a sense of humour.   None of them have a good sense of humour, though.  The one who identifies as Padfoot has the worst sense of humour.”  No sooner did the Researcher finish saying that before indignant shouts began appearing on the map in different scripts.  “Do you see what I have to deal with, Carmichael? It’s unbearable. If the boss-lady wasn’t paying me extra for this, then I would have given up.”

“You should refer to her by her proper title, Researcher.”  The Gatherer chided.

The Researcher let out another long sigh.  “Carmichael, we’re friends, right?”

The Gatherer blinked.  They were really more acquaintances than anything.  They weren’t in the same year, and they each took different electives and didn’t even have similar N.E.W.T. courses.  Really, all they had in common was their mutual sorting into Ravenclaw and the fact that they had homes in the same area of the country.  Still, the Gatherer suspected that the Researcher expected an affirmative reply rather than a negatory one.

“Yes, we’re friends.”  The Gatherer replied.

“Then please, I beg of you, break character .”

Carmichael winced.  “I should never have let you find out about my hobbies.”

Andrew Atkins, the head researcher, let out a full laugh.  “Are you kidding me? Finding out that you, a wizard, engage in Live-Action RolePlay was the best thing that’s ever happened during the summers away from Hogwarts.  I mean, honestly, who’s ever heard of a LARPing wizard before?”

Carmichael huffed indignantly.  “Well, it’s not like I can do magic over the summers, and my family lives way too far from Diagon Alley to go there when I want to feel magical again.  LARPing seemed like a good way to keep in touch with that part of myself.”

Andrew just shook his head.  “I can’t imagine that Dungeons and Dragons has much in common with real magic, Carmichael.  And if you ever wanted to go to Diagon Alley, you could just ask to use my family’s floo.”

“I didn’t know you lived nearby!”  Carmichael said indignantly. “If I did, then I would have been more careful about being seen!  I mean, honestly, what were the odds that not only would a wizard stumble upon one of our roleplaying scenes, let alone a wizard who would actually be able to recognise me!?  Let alone a wizard who would know what LARPing even is !?”  Carmichael pointed at Andrew.  “It’s you. You’re the odds of it happening.  And you play with rigged dice.”

Andrew keeled over in hysterics.  “I think you’re mixing your metaphors there, ‘gatherer’.  Besides, if you were really so committed to having no one find out about your shameful summer activities, then you shouldn’t have just jumped into character the moment Parvati started recruiting for her stupid little ‘organisation’.”

“I got caught up in the moment.”  Carmichael huffed.

“Well everyone else thinks that you’re either insane or brainwashed.”

“Oh…  Anyways, what makes you think the organisation is stupid?”  Carmichael asked, feeling a little hurt. He thought that it was great fun.

“She’s eleven , Carmichael.  Eleven year olds are not known for their cunning or long-term planning.  Did you see how quickly Slytherin house imploded once they didn’t know what to do?  As soon as unexpected crowds came into their nice little pureblood house, a bunch of people made power grabs and all of the people they’d pissed off over the years tried to stop them from making power grabs.  Parvati’s just another eleven year old trying to play like an adult.”

“Yet you still joined her organisation.”

“Of course I joined her organisation!”  Andrew exclaimed. “I mean, she was offering to pay me for gossiping!  She was offering to pay me to do something that I already did for fun!  I would have been a moron to turn down a deal like that!  Hell, she’s offering to continue to pay me after I graduate so long as I keep giving her juicy gossip!  And when she offered me a pay raise for taking on a researcher position, I saw it as a great opportunity to avoid having to come up with a topic for my N.E.W.T. project on my own.  Seriously, man, fuck N.E.W.T. projects. This map is giving me a good idea for one I can do about backdoors in ward systems, though.”

“Hold on, you haven’t started your N.E.W.T. project yet?”  Carmichael had started his, and he knew that he was far from being a model student.  Andrew clearly had academic issues if he still hadn’t started his project despite being a year ahead of Carmichael.

“If I enjoyed working, then the Hat would have put me in Hufflepuff.”  Andrew retorted. “Seriously, though, I am currently getting paid to do work that I needed to do anyways.  Anyone who hasn’t followed up on one of Parvati’s employment offers is an idiot.  I don’t think her organisation will last, but I’d be a fool to pass it up while it’s still around, and if you were to ask around, I think most other people would say the same.”

“…Do you think that the fact that an ambitious eleven-year-old was able to take control of the Hogwarts rumour mill by offering to pay people says something dark and disturbing about wizarding society as a whole?”  Carmichael mused.

Andrew shrugged.  “Yeah, probably. I can’t bring myself to care so long as I get my paycheck, though.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.  I mean, if people don’t care about corruption on a small scale then why would they-”

Andrew let out a loud groan.  “I don’t care , Carmichael.”

“…Right.  So what should I tell Parvati about your progress?  The twins are pestering her about getting their map back, and I think she’d like to get it back to them before the decide to start ‘pranking’ us.”

“That’s going to be tricky.  I expect to be done with the actual map in a week at the earliest.  Honestly, this thing has so many different layered charms and enchantments on it that I’m amazed I’ve been able to make as much headway as I have.”  Additional script began appearing on the map, which caused Andrew to start swearing at it. “Oh, fuck off you stupid piece of parchment! You’re not even alive !  Fuck you!”

Carmichael took that as his cue to leave, though he remembered one last thing he should bring up as he neared the door.  “You haven’t told anyone about the map, have you?”

“I would rather not advertise the fact that I have spent most of the past two weeks being insulted by a piece of parchment, thank you very much.”

“Right, well try and keep it that way, would you?  The people not knowing about the map bit, that is, not the constant insults.  Both Parvati and the twins have expressed their interest in letting as few people as possible know about it.  Try and avoid mentioning it directly in your N.E.W.T. project, too.” Carmichael did not expect Andrew to pass his N.E.W.T. project if he was this behind, though he didn’t express that sentiment.

“Not telling people all the details about how my day sucked is the norm for me.  You have nothing to worry about.”

Carmichael found himself wondering how a man like Andrew could possibly think that LARPing was beneath him when his life was already that sad.

Carmichael slipped out of the room and fell back into the role of the Dark Mistress’s Chief Gatherer.  If he already had a reputation, then he may as well just roll with it. The Head Researcher could be skeptical all he wanted, but he was sure that the Dark Mistress would stick with her organisation for far longer that the usual flights of pre-adolescent fancy that struck most of those her age.

“You’ll never guess what I just found out!”  Draco excitedly told Ernie and Neville as he ran into the common room.

“Um… What is it?”  Ernie asked hesitantly.

“So I was following Potter around to see if I could get him in trouble-”

“Why?”  Neville asked, cutting Draco off.

Draco stared at Neville.  “Why what?”

“I mean… why do you want to get Harry in trouble?  He seems like a decent enough person, even if he is a bit closed off.  Why would you want to put in the extra effort to get him in trouble?”

Draco scoffed.  “You don’t get it, do you?  Stupid Potter has everything he could possibly want, but doesn’t even use it.  He has all sorts of money from his parents and bounties he collected for the defeat of the Dark Lord, but he still wears those atrocious muggle rags.  He has all sorts of fame and influence, but instead he just keeps to himself and spends time reading or studying. He was sorted into Slytherin house, but he hasn’t made any power plays or tried to amass political influence of any kind.  He has that luxurious dark hair, but he doesn’t even keep it tidy, and he keeps those gorgeous green eyes of his hidden behind those ugly beat-up glasses.” Draco hated Potter so much.

Neville and Ernie, meanwhile, were just exchanging a glance.

“Draco,” Neville asked, “are you jealous of Harry Potter?”

“Of course I’m not jealous!”  Draco sputtered indignantly. “He just offends my sensibilities.  Anyways, you two never let me finish telling my story.”

Neville and Ernie exchanged another glance.  Draco noticed that they did that a lot around him.  It must be a thing that friends did. Draco made a note to start exchanging glances with them when he could.

“So, anyways,”  Draco began, picking up his story, “I was following Potter and his friends to try and get them in trouble.  They were heading down to the groundskeeper’s hut, for whatever reason. I was hoping that maybe they were going down there to smuggle goods or steal things, or some other expellable offence.”  Draco wasn’t sure if those were actually expellable offences, but he wasn’t about to admit that.  “When I got down there, I peered into the window to see what sort of trouble they were getting up to, but what I saw was even better than what I could have expected!”

“What was it?”  Ernie said with a glint of genuine curiosity in his eye.

“A dragon’s egg!”  Draco exclaimed. “That oaf of a groundskeeper is trying to hatch an actual dragon in his wooden hut!”

“What!?”  Neville exclaimed.  “But-but that’s dangerous!  We have to do something!”

“That’s exactly my point.”  Draco said smugly. “We’ve got to do something.”

“We should tell Professor McGonagall.”  Ernie suggested. “Surely she’d know what to do.  She is the deputy headmistress after all.”

That idea hadn’t even occurred to Draco, though it was certainly better than his original plan of catching Potter in the act when the dragon was moved elsewhere.

“Yes, we should tell Professor McGonagall.”  Draco stated. “That was my plan in the first place.  And we can implicate Potter for dragon smuggling in the process, then he’ll be expelled for sure!  Now come on, let’s go!”

“I can’t believe Hagrid is trying to hatch a dragon!”  Hermione loudly whispered as they left Hagrid’s hut. “Does he have any idea how dangerous and illegal that is!”

“He seemed intentionally oblivious.”  Daphne commented. “It’s like he didn’t want to hear anything about what a bad idea hatching the dragon was.  He ignored us every time we tried to point out that he lives in a wooden hut and that dragons grow extremely quickly.”

“It’s cool, though!”  Tracey said. “I mean, how often do you get a chance to witness an actual dragon hatching!?”

“We are not letting Hagrid keep that egg long enough to let it hatch.”  Daphne said with finality. “We are going to do the sensible thing here and tell a teacher.”

“And miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity?”  Tracey asked. “Think about what a valuable learning experience this would be!”

“You’re not allowed to tempt me like this…”  Hermione grumbled.

“Not to mention that we don’t even know what kind of dragon it’s going to hatch into.”  Daphne added. “While some are more benign at birth, others are born aggressive and hostile and don’t need to grow into their ability to breathe fire.”

“Hmph.  Back me up here, Harry.”  Tracey said.

Harry’s eyes flicked between his friends hesitantly.  “I think that I’m with Hermione and Daphne on this. We just need to make sure we find and adult that will actually listen to us.”

“Why wouldn’t an adult listen to us?  It’s their job to listen to our concerns, isn’t it?”  Hermione asked.

Harry deliberately refrained from answering.  “I think he should tell Professor Snape.” He said, changing the subject.  “He’s our head of house, and he isn’t likely to ask too many questions.”

“He’s also a very no-nonsense type of person, so he’s unlikely to restrain himself in any possible courses of action that he would take.”  Daphne added. “Not to mention that we know where his office is. I don’t even know where to find the headmaster’s office.”

“Right, let’s go tell Professor Snape, then.”  Harry said as they entered the dungeon.

Professor Snape’s office was located several doors further down the corridor from the potions classroom.  Unlike most of the staff, Snape was in his office during almost all hours that he didn’t have to teach or engage in other staff duties, likely owing to his reclusive nature.  Harry found himself able to relate. If Harry had a job here, he would probably do much the same thing.

Harry lightly rapped his knuckles on the door to the office, which was quickly pulled open by a sour-faced Snape.

“Potter.”  He greeted flatly.  “What do you need?”

Harry realised that since he was the one who knocked on the door, he would end up being the one who had to speak.

“It’s, um…”  Harry found himself wishing that he’d planned what to say, though he’d expected Daphne or Hermione to handle the speaking.  He decided to get straight to the point. “Hagrid has a dragon egg!”

Snape stared at them for a moment, expression unchanging, before he abruptly addressed them.  “Inside, now.”

Harry quickly entered the room and sat down in one of the four chairs that had appeared in front of Professor Snape’s desk.  Daphne, Hermione, and Tracey quickly followed suit as Snape sat at his desk, hands steepled in front of his face.

“Explain.”  Snape said, his voice level and short.

Harry quickly ran through all of the details that led up to their visit with Hagrid, including Hagrid’s strange visits to the library and his refusal to see reason.  The only part Harry skipped was the fact that they originally visited Hagrid to try and get more information about the third floor corridor gauntlet out of him. When Harry finished his explanation, Snape continued to stare silently at them for a moment before he spoke up.

“Fifteen points to Slytherin for being sensible about illegal behaviours.  You four can be off to the common room for now. I will bring this to the staff’s attention and ensure that it is taken care of.”

Harry recognised the dismissal for what it was, and quickly began to leave.  Snape always left him feeling a little unnerved. As Harry’s hand gripped the door handle, Snape’s voice broke the silence once again.

“If this turns out the be a prank, then I will see you each in detention every weekend until April.  Good day.”

Harry spoke quietly to his friends once they were a reasonable distance from the common room.

“How did I end up being the one who gave him an explanation?!”

Hermione shrugged.  “You were the one who insisted on going to him instead of one of the other teachers, and when you knocked on the door I just assumed you were taking the lead for once.”

“I can't say I enjoy taking the lead.”

“Well, it’s done.”  Daphne said, cutting off further complaints.  “We did the sensible thing and spoke to a teacher and hopefully avoided a whole slew of dragon-related deaths.  Now we just need to let the staff take care of it.”

“With any luck, they’ll be so distracted by this that we might be able to do some more snooping around the third floor.”  Tracey added.

“Tracey, we’ve only been practicing spells for a few weeks.  I don’t think we’re going to learn much from further investigation of the third floor if we can’t even get past the first obstacle.”

“Ugh.  Fine. Let’s see if we can’t find some sort of mayhem to cause in the meantime, though.  It would be a shame to waste all of this time while the staff are distracted.”

“Mister Malfoy, I swear, if this is your idea of a joke…”

“It’s not a joke, Professor, I swear!  Hagrid really has a dragon egg!”

Draco Malfoy was currently standing in Professor McGonagall’s office with Ernie and Neville flanking him.  McGonagall was regarding him skeptically, obviously doubting the truthfulness of his story.

“Explain to me exactly how you came into the knowledge that Hagrid is in possession of a dragon egg.”  She demanded.

“Well, it all started when I was following Potter-”

“Why were you following Mister Potter around?  I believe it should go without saying that the school does not condone stalking.”

Draco balked and tried to come up with a believable lie.  “I was, um, trying to return something that he dropped. I saw him drop something in the entrance hall and chased him down to try and give it back.  When he entered the groundskeeper’s hut with his friends, I decided to peer in the window and see what they were up to… to make sure I wasn’t disturbing them, you see.”

McGonagall continued to glare at him, though Malfoy paid it no mind as he continued his story.

“But as soon as I looked inside, I saw the groundskeeper removing a dragon’s egg from the fire!  Dragon breeding is clearly illegal in Britain, and Potter and his friends were acting as accomplices to the whole thing and should be expelled.”

McGonagall continued to glare at him for a moment before she spoke up.  “Did you ever return the item that Mister Potter dropped?”

“What?  Oh, uh, no, I did the responsible thing and came here as soon as I saw there was a dragon egg.”

“Very well, then.  Please give the item to me now, and I’ll see that it’s returned to Mister Potter.”

Draco fidgeted.  “It’s… I left it in the dorm when I went to get Neville and Ernie.  I’ll see that it’s returned to him later.

McGonagall regarded him with undisguised suspicion.  “See that it is. I will investigate your claims of a dragon egg on the premises on my own.  Return to your common room with your… friends… for now. And I hope for your sake that this is not a prank, Mister Malfoy.  I would hate to see you in detention.”

Draco was too giddy to pay heed to McGonagall’s threat.  He’d finally caught Potter!

“Stephens!  Stephens! Carmichael!  Get in here! I need your help!”  A voice frantically whispered.

Carmichael turned to see Andrew sticking his head out of the door to the research department.  He sighed and followed him into the room.

“What do you need, Andrew?  I’ve got to get these papers to Parvati.  Looks like the latest gossip is that the groundskeeper got himself a dragon egg somehow.”

Andrew waved his arms frantically.  “I don’t care about that! I just need to test something on you!  It won’t take but a minute and you won’t feel a thing.”

Carmichael frowned.  “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“It’ll be fine, just let me try out a few things…”  Andrew said before waving his wand at Carmichael for a good half-minute.

Carmichael watched Andrew stare at the results for a moment before the latter spoke up.

“Huh.  Well that’s unusual.  You’re muggleborn, right Carmichael?”

“Yeah, I’ve told you as much before.  Why?”

“Nah, sorry man, I really shouldn’t tell you.  Don’t wanna risk tainting the results of the experiment and all that jazz.”

“What, so you can’t even tell me why you needed me back here?  I have stuff to do, Andrew.”

“Of course I can’t tell you!  You’re not supposed to tell test subjects what they’re being tested on!  Didn’t you pay attention when they taught the scientific method in primary school?”

Carmichael raised an eyebrow.  “How did you end up attending primary school?  I thought both of your parents were magical?”

Andrew paced back towards his desk and began staring at the map.  “Dad’s a muggleborn, and he didn’t want me to come to Hogwarts with no education.  Seriously, though, didn’t they teach you the scientific method when you did your science fair project?”

“Science fair was optional in my school.”

Andrew whistled.  “Damn, that’s lucky.  It was a pain in the arse, doing all that extra work.  Anyways, I’m done with you, so go make your report or whatever.  Oh, and tell the boss lady that I should be done with the map in a day or two.  I can’t wait to get rid of this cheeky little fucker.”

Carmichael could see additional scrawl appearing on the map, and left the room just as Andrew began yelling at it.  Again.

Minerva strode down the stairs towards the dungeons so she could fetch Severus.  Calling an emergency staff meeting seemed to be the best way to address Mister Malfoys allegations of a dragon egg in Hagrid’s possession.  Most of the staff was near the private floos in their offices, and it was easy enough to have the few staff members that weren’t in their offices be fetched by other teachers.  Severus, however, was a different matter. The floo in his office was closed, and the fact that he insisted on keeping his office in the dungeons meant that there were never any other staff members nearby.  Someone was going to have to fetch him, and Minerva decided to take on the task of fetching him herself, rather than stick someone else with the job.

Thankfully, fortune appeared to be on her side in this instance, as she ran into Severus as he was leaving the dungeons, sparing her from taking the final part of the trek.  The fact that he was making a rare excursion out of the dungeons also explained why his floo was closed, as he usually kept it open whenever he wasn’t teaching or experimenting.

“Minerva, I’m glad I ran into you.”   Severus began before she could get in a single word.  “Several students have just come to me with claims that Hagrid has managed to… ‘acquire’ a dragon egg for himself.  While I couldn’t even begin to imagine where Hagrid would stumble upon such high-value smuggled goods, I know that there is no end to his foolishness, particularly where magical creatures are involved.  We should at least look into the matter, to ensure that he’s not about to get the forest burned down in an act of idiocy.”

Minerva blinked.  That certainly lent credence to the story Mister Malfoy had told her.  She was trying to be unbiased, but she maintained what she viewed as a healthy skepticism where he was involved.  Having a second set of witnesses with the same story certainly lent credibility to the story, especially since they were in a different house.

“I’ve just received an identical claim from Mister Malfoy, and have already called a staff meeting in regards to how we should approach this.  Goodness only knows that Albus will try and hush the whole matter up to prevent negative press coverage.”

“As well as try and keep his pet half-giant out of legal trouble…”  Severus grumbled.

Minerva ignored his grumbles and continued her plan.  “As such, I have called a full staff meeting, and requested that Pomona fetch Hagrid so we can confront him directly before coming up with a plan.  Silvanus may also need to be involved, so we can weave some fantasy that involves him coming into the egg through somewhat legitimate channels.”

“I’m sure Silvanus would love to help us with a dragon.  I doubt he needs his remaining leg, after all.” Severus replied dryly as the two began making their way back towards the staff room.  “Perhaps he’ll be able to lose all of his limbs by the time he retires.”

Minerva rolled her eyes at Severus’s sarcasm, but made no attempt to chide him for it.  She knew that he was just too insecure to express emotions in any normal ways, so this was how he coped.

Carmichael watched as Head Researcher Atkins gave a short bow before starting his report to the Dark Mistress.

“So, I have bad news, good news, more bad news, and more good news.”  He said somewhat nervously. “Um, in that specific order.” He clarified.

Parvati gestured for him to continue, so he did.

“Well, the first bad news is that I cannot replicate the map.  The charm work is far too complicated, and it would likely take me years of work with additional help for me to create a suitable replica of the map.”

“That is unfortunate.  I was really hoping we could make one of our own.  Being able to track everyone’s locations would be a great tool.”  She said plainly.

“Yes, well, onto the good news. I was able to isolate the backdoor the map uses and figure out how to access it.  After several attempts, I was able to confirm that the person-tracking ward was impossible to access without some form of interface, since it seems to be incompatible with the human minds.  That said, we can fulfill your original goal of gaining access to the portrait networks.”

“We can?  That is very good news.  The amount of effort that we could save by doing our information gathering through such means is incredible.”

Andrew hesitated.  “Yes, and that brings me to my next point.  For reasons that continue to evade me, not everyone has… permission to access this ward.  I am unable to access it personally, and I have yet to determine exactly what it is that allows people permission to access the ward.  For the most part, it seems random.”

“For the most part?”  Parvati said as she leaned forward, steepling her fingers.

“It’s mostly random, but there are trends.”  He pulled out a sheet of parchment. “Everyone who has descendants from an old British wizarding family has permission, as do around sixty percent of those from minor families.  Of the muggleborns I tested, less than forty percent had access permission. No recent immigrants to the country have access unless they have heritage somewhere in the country.”

“…I see.  And as a member of a recently immigrated family, I would have no way to access the wards.”  She concluded.

“Yes, that is correct.  However, I do have another solution prepared, which is my final piece of good news.  Carmichael is able to access the wards.”

Carmichael blinked.  He certainly wasn’t expecting that. 

Parvati, for her part, simply nodded.  “See that it’s done. I take it you no longer need the map, then?”

Andrew scowled.  “Take that damnable thing away from me.”

Parvati nodded and hopped off her throne.  “I will return the map personally. Key Carmichael in so he can access that wards and make the portraits report to him.  I believe that concludes everything that needs to be done?” Andrew nodded in reply, so Parvati left the room, leaving Carmichael alone with Andrew.

“ I’m compatible with the wards?”  Carmichael asked, breaking the silence.  “How? Why?”

Andrew shrugged.  “If I knew I would have told the boss lady.  Anyways, time to key you into the wards.”

“Will… will it hurt?”

“Hell if I know.  Now let’s get started.”

Chapter Text

The room was filled with silence, and the air was tense as all of its occupants waited for their signal.  The silence was broken by a loud metal clattering, and the room's occupants sprang into action.

“ Trin! ”  Harry shouted as three identical cries echoed through the room.  Harry watched as the four pale-grey spell bolts collided with the target dummy over the course of a second.

"That's our best result so far."  Daphne observed. "The closest we've come before that is over the course of three seconds.  I think this is the first time we can actually claim to have hit it 'simultaneously'."

"That's because we're using the tripping jinx this time, as opposed to the sleeping charm that we were earlier."  Hermione remarked. "The sleeping charm is three syllables and a twist of the wand, while the tripping charm is only one syllable and a simple flick.  It's easier for us to stay in synch with the tripping jinx, since it's simpler to cast."

Harry considered Hermione's point for a moment.  “Does it really matter that much, though? I mean, sure, we need to make sure we can coordinate with each spell, but obviously some are going to be easier than others.  We should keep practicing regardless.”

Hermione let out a small huff.  “Obviously. I’m just saying that we shouldn’t take this one success as an example of global improvement.”

“Sounds like someone has an attitude problem.”  Tracey teased from where she was sipping a glass of water.

Harry sighed.  “Tracey does have a point, Hermione.  This is going to take practice. You didn’t expect this to be effortless, did you?”

Hermione looked dismayed and didn’t answer, which Harry took as a yes.

Harry bit back a second sigh.  He supposed that Hermione was so used to learning things quickly that she was feeling discouraged by the amount of practise that went into being able to coordinate as a team.  Then again, even he was starting to feel a bit discouraged by their lack of visible progress. The fact that this was the first reasonable success they’d had at coordinating their casts in all the time they’d been practising was… well, it was a bit depressing.

As they lined up for their next attempt, Harry kept an eye on his friends to see what was causing their desync.

“Let’s try the sleeping charm again.”  He said as he levitated the metal basin into the air before cancelling the charm and waiting.

Once the noise echoed through the room, Harry lashed out with his sleeping spell as he watched the others.  Harry’s charm was completed first, and was thus the first to hit the dummy with the faint sizzle that signalled a collision with a nonliving target.  Hermione was close behind him, focusing more on precision that Harry usually did when casting. Tracey was adding some extra flourish to her wand movements that slightly slowed down her casting.  Daphne was the slowest, taking an additional second to aim her wand after completing the wand movement.

Harry wasn’t keeping track, but he was pretty sure that this was among their better attempts.  His attention was too divided to say for sure.

“Right, Tracey, you’re adding unnecessary motions to your wand movement and it’s slowing you down.”  He said. “And Daphne, you need to work on aiming faster.”

“Easy for you to say.”  Daphne replied. “Wand movements aren’t usually made with left-handers in mind.”

Harry paused and looked at Daphne.  Just as she had said, she held her wand in her left hand.  How had he never noticed that before? He supposed it just wasn’t something he was used to paying attention to.  It did explain why she was always extra careful not to smudge her writing, though.

“Is there a way we could compensate for that?”  Hermione asked. “I mean, surely you’re not the first left-handed magical to exist.”

“It’s possible to invert the wand movements on spells that require swishes and such, but movements that require wand twists can’t be inverted and require me to bend my arm at awkward angles.”  Daphne clarified. “It makes it hard to aim them. The sleeping spell takes an additional second for me to aim it because of that.”

“…Huh.”  Hermione said after pausing to take in the information.  “That does complicate things.  The only solutions I can think of offhand are to either have everyone else hold off on casting for a moment to let Daphne aim, or to exclude her from the sleeping charm practices.”

“I’d rather not be neglected when the rest of you practice.”  Daphne griped.

“That leaves coordinating the rest of our casts around Daphne’s slower aim.”  Hermione continued.

“Too much effort!”  Tracey shouted as she slammed her glass of water back onto the table.  “I say we just stick with the tripping jinx and anything else that doesn’t involve wand twisting.”

“That’s everything except the sleeping charm, then.”  Hermione said with a small sigh. “Fine, let’s work on other spells.  Never mind that they won’t be much use unless we can get past the cerberus in the first place…”

“Details, details.”  Tracey said dismissively.  “We can worry about that later.”

Hermione appeared disgruntled at Tracey’s attitude, but let it slide.  “Fine, we’ll work on the other spells.”

They continued practicing for a while yet, though they were never as coordinated with the other spells as they were with the tripping one, lending credence to Hermione’s theory that fewer syllables made it easier for them to stay coordinated.  After a particularly bad attempt at coordinating the flame conjuring charm, Harry addressed Daphne.

“You’re still the slowest of us.”  He said. “Are you having any other issues?”

“No, my reflexes just aren’t as good.”  She replied.

Harry stared at her in disbelief for a moment.  “Daphne? That’s bullshit.”

“Language, Harry!”  Hermione shouted from halfway across the room.

“But it is bullshit!”  Harry said, louder this time.  “Daphne, you are one of the best fliers in our year, and the only one besides me and Malfoy who ever attempts to do stunts on the school brooms.”

Hermione began muttering about the shoddy quality of the school brooms, which caused Tracey to start giggling.

Daphne pondered Harry’s remark for a moment before she responded.  “Aiming is hard.”

He figured that was as good a response as any.  “Sure. Aiming is hard. Just keep practicing and I’m sure you’ll improve.  C’mon guys, let’s keep at it for a while longer.”

“Are you kidding me?  You still want to practice?”  Tracey griped. “We’ve been at this for five hours!  That’s more than enough for one day! I say we call it quits and get some much needed food.”

“I am pretty hungry, now that you mention it.”  Hermione said. “Let’s get some dinner.”

“Five hours isn’t that long to go without food.”  Harry explained. “I’ve gone much longer plenty of times before…”  He muttered under his breath. He regretted doing so upon seeing the glare Hermione fixed him with as he realised that he wasn’t as quiet as he intended to be.  “Um… I mean…”

“Oh no you don’t!”  She said, viciously cutting him off when he hastily attempted to change the subject.  “I have been letting you set your own pace every time you bring up some sort of red flag, and I have had it, mister!  You are going to explain yourself right now or so help me, I will track down a magical truth serum and force it down your throat!”

“Veritaserum is a restricted substance-”  Daphne began explaining before being cut off by Tracey.

“My mom has some.  I can ask her for a dose.”

Harry’s internal panic was briefly quashed by wondering — once again — just what Tracey’s mother did for a living.  The panic returned when he got a better look at Hermione’s glare.

He let out a sigh.  He didn’t think he’d be getting out of this one.

Albus watched with amusement as Rubeus played with the small dragon hatchling that Silvanus was currently trying to use to teach his class.  Silvanus absolutely refused to teach a class involving a baby dragon without the attendance of someone as durable as Rubeus and someone as skilled as Albus, as Silvanus had no desire to lose any further limbs while dealing with dangerous creatures.  

Albus would rather have spent his time elsewhere, but he was sure he could make productive use of the time to slip in a few harmless pranks here and there.  The students were awfully focused on the lecture, allowing him to sneak in a few things here and there. He was currently adding the finishing touches to a complicated charm on one of the student’s ink bottles that would cause it to change to a random colour every time a new word was written.  His attention only wavered from that task when a commotion from Silvanus’s direction caught his attention.  

Hagrid, in his excitement to feed the dragon — whom he had named Norbert, ignoring Silvanus’s insitence that the dragon was female — had spilled some of the blood and brandy mixture used to nurse dragons on Silvanus’s fake leg.  The dragon had evidently smelled the food, if her current gnawing on said leg was any indication.

“Oh, look at him!”  Hagrid cooed. “He’s teething!”

“Albus, help me get this blasted thing off of me before it realises that my real leg will probably taste better.”  Silvanus croaked.

Albus abandoned the ink bottle he was pranking and made kissy noises at the dragon, which promptly abandoned Silvanus’s false leg and crawled up Albus’s robes to sit comfortably in his arms.

“Why aren’t you the one teaching this damned class with skills like that?”  Silvanus asked in a subdued tone after hobbling over to him.

“Ah, well, I’m afraid that at my current age, I’m too old and frail to engage in such endeavours.”  Albus began to scratch the dragon’s chin, which made it start emitting purring noises. “Besides which, I’m afraid I have absolutely no talent when it comes to dealing with animals.”

Silvanus stared at him in disbelief.  “Albus, you have a Merlin-be-damned Phoenix as a pet.”

“As I said, no talent.”

Silvanus glared at Albus in disbelief before grabbing the dragon and making his way to the front of the lecture.

Albus took that as his cue to begin pranking the students’ belongings again, now that their backs were turned.

Harry was looking out the window, trying to avoid making eye contact with his friends.  They may have been able to force him to talk about his home life (as reluctant as he was to use the word “home” in relation to anything involving the Dursleys), but they could not force him to look them in the eye.

“Harry…”  Hermione said, breaking the silence.

“Look,” he began, cutting her off, “I talked to you about all the things you’ve been wanting me to talk to you about.  Can we please not talk about it anymore?”

“I’m just wondering if they were ever… physical with you.”  She said hesitantly.

“My uncle really didn’t like accidental magic.  I’ll leave it at that.”

“Harry…”

Harry turned around to face her.  “Yes! Yes, it was awful! And no, I am not going back there no matter what anyone says, so it doesn’t matter anymore!  While I don’t have enough money in my vault to live off of for the rest of my life, I have more than enough to live comfortably on my own for the rest of my schooling.”

Even without looking at her, he could hear Hermione holding back all of her objections to having Harry live on his own at such a young age.  As such, he wasn’t expecting the next word out of her mouth to be “Alright”.

Harry turned around, shock evident on his face.  “Alright?” He asked, seeking confirmation that he had indeed heard her correctly.

“Yes, alright.  I don’t think that living on your own in the best idea, but it’s better than sending you back there.  Let us know if you need any help.”

Hermione’s face was set in determination, Daphne looked as stoic as usual, though he could see a glint in her eyes, and Tracey looked like she had no idea how to handle a serious conversation and was trying — and failing — not to look awkward.

"Yeah, sure, you can ask us for help and stuff…"  Tracey mumbled, clearly unsure of what else to say.

“Just… promise me that you’ll go to an adult about this, first.”  Hermione requested. “If they give you problems about it, then we’ll ignore them, but you need to speak to one of them first.”

Harry was less than enthused about the prospect of speaking about his “childhood” a second time, though Hermione was right that asking an adult for help determining a legal route to get away from his relatives was probably a better plan than essentially running away from home.

“Fine, I’ll do it.  Just… not anytime soon.”  He said with a sigh. “Any suggestions for which adult I should ask for help?”

“The headmaster.”  Daphne said without hesitation.  “While he’s eccentric and has his faults, he takes his position very seriously.  Helping a child get away from a bad home life is exactly the sort of thing his job would require.  I’m sure that he’ll do the responsible thing.”

“Albus Dumbledore, get back here this instant!”  Minerva shrieked as she chased after her surprisingly spry boss.  Albus paid her no mind, and turned down a hallway that she knew led to the grand staircase.  She chased after him, finding him leaning against the rail of the landing. None of the staircases were currently connected to the landing, meaning that she had finally cornered him, after nearly twenty minutes of giving chase.

“Now you listen here, Albus.”  She began in a low tone. “I have tolerated a lot from you over the years.  I have dealt with the increased workload of being deputy headmistress. I have helped you plan protections to put on the Philosopher’s Stone, in the hopes that you could use it to trap Voldemort.  I have even tried to foster a friendly relationship with Severus, one of the most dour people I have ever met, at your insistence. But the one thing I will not tolerate is you literally running away from your responsibilities!”  She pulled some parchmentwork out of her robes and thrust it at him. “Do. Your. Work!”

Albus simply smiled genially at her.  “You know, I remember seeing a scene much like this in in muggle cinema, and I believe that the quote from that film applies quite well here.  You’ll never take me alive, Minerva.” He said as he tipped himself over the railing.

Minerva ran up to the railing and looked down to see Albus gripping the edge of a passing staircase several floors down.  She wasn’t about to let him get away. Not now, not this far into the chase. She turned into her animagus form and leapt down towards him, even as he swung himself onto the stairs and made his way towards another one of the castle’s corridors.  Minerva changed back as soon as she landed and bolted after him, trying desperately not to lose his trail. It was only the occasional sight of his obnoxiously coloured robes that she could see as she turned the corner that let her know that she hadn’t lost him yet.  Her lungs were stinging and she was gasping for breath by the time she had chased him back towards his office. She stood outside the gargoyle for a moment to recover before she confronted him. When the last of the spots had cleared from her vision, she stood up as straight as she could and marched past the gargoyle and into his office.

Her rant was curtailed by the sight that greeted her when she slammed the door open.

Albus was sitting at his desk, his quill gently scratching away at a pile of forms.  Nothing about his appearance seemed to imply that he had just been involved in a chase around half of the school.  It didn't take long for Albus to look up from what he was doing.

"Is there something I can help you with, Minerva?"  He asked gently. "You seem quite flushed."

“No thanks to you!”  She huffed. “Why you felt the need to lead me on this wild goose chase around the whole school, I have no idea!  She pulled out the stack of parchmentwork from her robes and smacked it on the desk. “Do your work!”

Albus gestured at the piles of parchment sitting on his desk.  “I already am, Minerva. If you have something else for me to do, then just add it to the pile.  There’s no need to make a fuss about it.”

“Then why is it, might I ask, that when I approached you with this same stack of forms not an hour ago, you told me that ‘responsibility is for chumps’ and ran away?”

Albus’s brow furrowed.  “Minerva, are you feeling quite alright?  Do you need a moment to lay down?”

She did, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.  “I’m perfectly fine, Albus.” She replied, feeling her eye twitch.

“Well, I must confess that I have no memory of what you’ve described.  I’ve been here in my office for the past few hours. Isn’t that right, Fawkes?”

The phoenix trilled in response to Dumbledore’s question.  Minerva assumed that was supposed to be a “yes”. She couldn’t understand Phoenix, after all.

“Fawkes agrees with my version of events.  Perhaps the me that you saw out there was the work of some pranksters.  I know Filius has been teaching some of his sixth years some complicated illusion charms for extra credit.  Perhaps one of them decided to have some fun.”

Minerva would have to disagree about what constituted “fun”.  She’d deal with that later, though. Right now, she really did need to sit down for a bit.  “Very well then Albus. I’ll see you later.”

Albus watched as Minerva left the room.  “Well that was a prank well executed, wouldn’t you say?”

Fawkes cooed in reply.

“Yes, I know you don’t like lying, but there’s nothing wrong with having some good fun once in a while.”

Fawkes let out a questioning squeak.

“Oh no, the sixth years in question have a study group in a populated area of the library, so they’ll all have alibis.  I wouldn’t wish Minerva’s wrath on anyone, let alone one who didn’t deserve it. A prank is no good if it harms someone, after all.”

Fawkes trilled appreciatively.

“Of course.”  Dumbledore said before going back to his work.  There really was quite a lot of it, enough that he arguably shouldn’t have led Minerva on a chase around the whole school, but it was always good to pursue diversions to keep his stress levels down.

Carmichael was surprised by how… benign being tapped into the Hogwarts wards felt.  Granted, he was only allowed the minimum level of clearance above students, so it’s not like his access gave him much in the way of information.  He assumed that the headmaster had access to a lot more information, and may have even been constantly aware of what was going on in the school. Maybe.  No one was really entirely sure how the Hogwarts wards worked , and the headmaster wasn't telling.

So far, the only truly major change was that the portraits were required to tell him the truth.  The portraits were everywhere, of course, and were very gossipy, so he was basically aware of everything that was happening inside Hogwarts, just indirectly.  He also had a limited ability to give orders to the portraits, though so far he only told them not to let anyone know they were obeying him. He didn’t want to push his luck.  Not yet.

The problem was that most of the information was about other portraits, and it was an absolute pain to have to sort through all of the information about what the other paintings did to get to the sort of information that they could actually sell.  Parvati… The Dark Mistress was finding the process painstaking and possibly an even bigger waste of time than having Gatherers… gather the information manually.

Carmichael was currently watching a dictaquill scribble down all of the interesting information gathered by the portrait they’d relocated to their headquarters.  Granted, the information in question was interesting by the portrait’s standards, not his standards. The portrait was currently rambling about the fact that one painting named “Elisabeth” was having an affair, which raised frankly raised far too many questions about the nature of personal lives held by portraits for Carmichael’s liking.

He had been a wizard for years, but sometimes, magic was just a bit too unnerving for his taste.  Usually, it was fine, but then there were things like this, things which rested at the very bottom of the uncanny valley.

Carmichael picked up the sheet and filed it under “Useful, unnerving, and not gossip”.  He regretted that such a drawer was necessary, but there was a lot of frankly weird stuff that happened in the school that fell under that category.

Deciding that he’d had enough for the evening, Carmichael packed up the loose items in the room, locked the drawers they used to store information, and began making his way back to Ravenclaw Tower.

He did his best not to pay attention to the route he was taking.  That was the other weird thing about being tapped into the wards.  He was able to navigate the castle perfectly so long as he knew the destination he wanted to get to, but only if he wasn’t paying attention.  It even led him to the entrances to various secret passages, though it didn’t give him knowledge of how to access said passages.  Andrew had said that the map supposedly did provide the methods of access for secret passages, though he wasn’t sure how much he believed Andrew about the map at this point.  The dude was practically convinced that the map was out to get him at the end.

A faint scuffling noise snapped Carmichael out of his reverie.  It was then that he realised he had no idea where he was, and no idea how to get back to Ravenclaw Tower.

As it turned out, not paying attention to where one was going was harder than he had initially anticipated.  If his inattention ever lapsed, then he would frequently find himself lost in the labyrinthine and logicless layout of the school.

Carmichael tried to lose his bearings again, though hopefully the fact that the four-way intersection he found himself in was completely lacking in identifying characteristics would help him.  

Picking a hallway at random, he began walking down it up until he turned a corner and promptly tripped.  He looked down at his feet, only to see the old and scruffy Mrs. Norris sitting right where’s he’d tripped.  He’d better get out of here. Wherever Mrs. Norris was around, there was sure to be…

“Well well well, looks like we have a student out after curfew!”  Filch’s voice rang out. “Detention!”

Dammit.

Hermione sat in the bleachers of the quidditch pitch, alternating her attention between the book in her lap and her friends in the air.

Despite neither Harry nor Daphne enjoying quidditch, the two of them loved flying and insisted on coming out here on the occasions that Madam Hooch would let the first years use the school brooms.  Hermione hated flying with a passion. The concept of flight was alright, but she didn’t trust a broom to do the job for her, let alone brooms as rickety as the ones the school had. Those things should have been replaced ages ago.

So Hermione stayed grounded while Harry and Daphne tried to see who could pull off the most death-defying stunt as Tracey lazily drifted through the air.  Every time Harry and Daphne entered a dive, Hermione was torn between averting her eyes from the sight and not wanting to look away just so she could assure herself they were still okay.

Hermione was really looking forward to their second year, when the students could own on their own brooms.  It would still be harrowing to watch them pull the stunts they were wont to do, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about the brooms just… giving out.

Hermione really hated the school brooms.  Had she mentioned that yet? Because she really did.

At that moment, Harry and Daphne began entering some sort of… inverted… corkscrew…something.  Hermione wasn’t sure what to call what they were doing — she knew neither quidditch nor flight terminology — but it was clearly dangerous.  Then again, everything they seemed to do was dangerous.

A quick Tempus charm showed that only fifteen minutes had passed.  Harry and Daphne were never satisfied until they’d been in the air for at least an hour, much to Hermione’s chagrin.  At least the weather was warming up now. Even with warming charms, she found the winter air to be uncomfortable.

Hermione sighed.  She understood that they couldn’t spend all of their time studying or practicing, but she wished there were other ways for them to unwind than flying.  Tracey even tried to justify it as further practice for the third floor corridor, as if there would be readily available brooms to accompany some sort of aerial challenge guarding the Philosopher’s Stone.

Come to think of it, what little she knew about the defences made her sincerely doubt that the Philosopher’s Stone was even down there.  The traps they knew about seemed comically easy for even people of their age to get past — except perhaps the troll that Hagrid had referenced — and they were only first years.  Then again, Professors Snape and Quirrell were obviously under the impression that it was down there, and as teachers, she was sure they were well-informed. As for the traps, there were probably some trickier ones past the ones they knew about; the early traps were likely only there to get would-be intruders to let their guard down.

Hermione suddenly felt a lot less optimistic about their odds of success.

“Oi!  You gonna sit down there all day?”  Tracey asked, pulling up to float a foot above Hermione’s head.

“Yes, I am, thank you very much.”

Tracey leaned forward, resting her chin on the handle of her broom.  “C’mon, Granger. Get your ass off the ground!”

“My arse is perfectly happy content on the ground, Tracey.”  Hermione said as she adjusted her position.

A whoosh of air turned a few of the pages of her book as Daphne and Harry shot by at high speeds.

“Those two sure are speed demons, aren’t they?”  Tracey mused.

“I’m glad you have the good sense not to be as reckless as they are.”  Hermione replied.

Tracey started cackling at Hermione’s remark.  “You know, you’re the first person who ever said that I had more sense than Daphne!”

“You’re… welcome?”  Hermione wasn’t sure what the appropriate reply would be.

Tracey scooted forward on her broom and patted the pole behind her.  “C’mon, Hermione. Get on and let’s go for a spin.”

Hermione let out a deep breath.  “No thank you.”

“C’mon.  Pleeeeease?”

“No.”

“Just one lap around the pitch.”

Hermione huffed.  “You’re not going to give up until I say yes, are you?”

Tracey grinned.  “Nope!”

“Fine, but if you go above a sensible speed or invert us at any point during said flight, I will never forgive you.”

“Deal, now hop on.”

Hermione gingerly shifted herself onto the broom behind Tracey and gripped the other girl around the waist as if her life depended on it — because it probably did.  Hermione didn’t trust these brooms. It took her almost a full minute to open her eyes and see that they were already moving.

“See?  This isn’t so bad, is it?”  Tracey said from ahead of her.

“No.  No, I guess it isn’t.”  Hermione replied, letting herself relax a bit and enjoy the ride.

Carmichael trudged behind Filch as he was led out onto the castle grounds for his detention.  He wondered why a nighttime detention was necessary for being caught after curfew. “You stayed up late, so now you get to stay up later”?  He wasn’t sure what the reasoning was, but it was probably stupid. If he had a sickle for every time something in the wizarding world had a stupid reasoning behind it, then Carmichael would be be able to afford a whole wardrobe at Twilfitt & Tatting’s.

Come to think of it, why hadn’t he made such a bet?  Maybe he should mention the idea of bet-taking to Parvati and see if she couldn’t work her magic on it to make it into a profitable enterprise.

“Got another one here for you, Hagrid.”  Filch’s harsh voice cut through Carmichael’s reverie.  “See that he works hard for it.”

Hagrid nodded at Filch and waved him off.  “Right then, I suppose the five of us ought to do it, then.”  Carmichael looked around at the other three students. Both of the Weasley twins were here, likely as punishment for some sort of prank they played.  

The last face was a surprise, though.  What in the world did Cedric Diggory do to earn detention?

Carmichael filed that information away for later as Hagrid began his explanation of what they were going to be doing tonight.  Said explanation just raised further questions. What in the world would be attacking unicorns? Moreover, why was this the first he was hearing of it?  He’d been sorting through all of the useless drivel that the portraits were telling him, and this was the first he’d heard of attacked unicorns.

He’d have to see if he could find a way to force the portraits to focus on the relevant information.

Hagrid began leading them into the forest, everyone lighting their wands as they did so to maintain some level of visibility.

Carmichael stared down at the blotches of unicorn blood soaking into the soil.  Its silvery colouring combined with its liquid form made it almost resemble mercury.  He wondered if mercury was an actual component of unicorn blood. From what little he knew about the creatures from Professor Kettleburn’s class, unicorn blood was supposed to cause one to cause one to live “a cursed life” if one were to drink it it.  Mercury poisoning would certainly constitute a cursed life, after all.

“Hey, Stephens, are you there?”  Diggory asked, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

Carmichael blinked a few times.  “Right, sorry. I tend to space out when I’m walking.”  Which was mostly just a side effect of not wanting to get lost.  He really hated it when he started paying attention to where he was going and suddenly found himself hopelessly lost.  He’d started practicing spacing out while walking when he wound up getting lost for eight hours after he got lost a few weeks ago.  At this point, he just stopped paying attention whenever he was going somewhere as a matter of instinct.

…This habit was probably going to be very inconvenient when he next left Hogwarts and didn’t have any ward access to subconsciously guide him.

“Stephens!”  Diggory shouted.  “You spaced out again.”

“Right, sorry.”  He really did need to work on that.

Hagrid looked back over his shoulder.  “Are you lot okay back there?”

“Fine, Mister Hagrid.”  The twins chimed in chorus.

“Why do the twins keep giving you the stink eye?”  Diggory whispered.

Carmichael glanced ahead to see that one of the twins was indeed glaring at him, though the twin looked away once he was noticed.  They were probably mistrustful of him after Parvati got the map from them. Sure, Carmichael wasn’t involved in that particular meeting, but he was essentially Parvati’s front man; any mistrust of her was likely to be projected onto him as well.

Granted, he couldn’t tell Diggory all of that, so he just replied “Business.”

Diggory gave him an odd look but let the issue drop.  Meanwhile, Hagrid stopped walking and leaned down to examine the trail of blood they were following.

“Looks like the path branches here.”  He explained. “It must have doubled back through here at some point.  We’ll have to split up if we want to have a chance of finding the unicorn before it dies.  Weasleys, you’re with me. You two are only third years and will be better protected with me around in case something goes wrong.  Stephens, Diggory, you head down the trail to the right, and take Fang with you. He should be enough to scare off any creatures that might think about attacking you.  Send up sparks if there’s an emergency or if you find the unicorn.”

Diggory started following the blood trail as Carmichael gestured for Fang to follow them, keeping an eye on the ground he was treading.  He wondered if he would be able to find the unicorn on his own? Sure, he wasn’t capable of accessing the part of the ward scheme that tracked people, but a unicorn wasn’t a person.  Was that enough of a distinction that he would be able to navigate to it using his newfound subconscious intuition? He really had no idea, which meant he obviously needed to perform some experiments.  Come to think of it, did he even know how to navigate the forbidden forest now? It was in the area affected by the wards, but it wasn’t a proper part of the castle. He’d have to test that too.

“You sure space out a lot, huh?”  Diggory said from ahead of him.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Carmichael tried very hard not to space out after that, which proved more challenging than he anticipated.

“So what got you in detention, anyways?”  He asked Diggory. “From what I hear, you’re something of a ‘Quintessential Hufflepuff’.  I can’t imagine you getting yourself in trouble.”

Diggory gave a somewhat pained grin.  “Well, it’s something of a funny story, actually.  You see, I was-”

Fang stopped in his tracks and growled into the darkness ahead of them.

Diggory stared down at the unnerved dog before holding up his wand and pumping some additional power into his lumos , though it wasn’t enough to see into the clearing ahead of them.

Carmichael stepped ahead, pushing additional power into his spell as he did so.  As he entered the clearing, the light spilled into the various corners of the area, revealing a dead unicorn with a… thing on top of it.

It was humanoid, but… dark.  Shadows oozed out of its body like fog, obscuring any details of its form completely.  It couldn’t be a lethifold because lethifolds didn’t exude darkness like this thing did.  It couldn’t be a dementor because those were supposed to cause illusions of coldness, but Carmichael was perfectly aware of the heat of the early summer evening and could feel the hot sweat in the palm holding his wand.

That meant that this thing was — or used to be — human, and was hiding its form in some way or another.

At this point, Carmichael said the only complete thought he could form.

“Oh, what the fuck.”

Either the shadow thing hated to be disturbed, or it objected to his choice of language, because it pulled itself up from the unicorn’s cooling corpse and began moving towards him.  Diggory was clearly better at thinking on his feet, because he quickly let off several spells, though it just moved effortlessly out of their path. Carmichael finally felt the shock wear off and let loose several spells of his own, only to be met with an equal lack of success.  It was only when the thing was getting alarmingly close that he had the sense to shoot sparks up into the air. Even the threat of imminent backup didn’t scare this thing off, and Carmichael was convinced he was moments away from dying when an enormous figure leapt out of the brush and smacked the thing away with a single sweep of an enormous quarterstaff.

“Foul beast.  Once more into the abyss with you!”  The newcomer, who Carmichael could now identify as a centaur, shouted at the thing.

The shadow thing did not care for the centaur’s interruption and leapt at it, only for the centaur’s staff to connect once again, sending it off into the shadows of the forest.

Carmichael stood, frozen, as the centaur held a defensive pose for a moment before deciding that enough time had passed and they were now safe.  The now-calm centaur moved over to the unicorn’s body and murmured a few words to it before approaching the two of them.

“What brings wizards into our domain?”  The centaur, who Carmichael could now see was female, spoke to them.  He tried to stop the blush from spreading across his cheeks once he got a good look at her.

“…We were trying to find the unicorn?”  Cedric replied, clearly intimidated.

The centaur twisted her torso to face the unicorn — and holy crap did she have some nice abs — before speaking.  “Such a horrid thing, to prey upon the innocent like that. Would that I could vanquish such a creature for good.  Alas, the Fates have not ruled in my favour, and the shade continues its pitiful existence for another day.”

“Huh.”  Carmichael replied, still transfixed by her muscles.  He knew that centaurs probably got a lot of exercise, but still.  He’d never seen a feminine form this shredded!

“It is not safe for ones as young as yourself to be out in the forest at this time, not when there are shades lurking about.”  She continued. “I will escort you back to the grounds of your castle.”

“I’m not that young!”  Carmichael protested. “I’m seventeen!”

The centaur glanced at him.  “All men are young before the stars.”

He had no idea what that meant.  Was she trying to say he was too young for her?  Then again, he had no idea what the logistics of a human/centaur relationship would even encompass, nor did he necessarily think he wanted to know.  She was still hot, though, and he was content to spend the remainder of the walk gazing at her, even as she continued to speak.

“The stars tell an interesting story, you know.  The Fates weave a bizarre pattern. Sometimes, a pebble may fall into a pond, spreading ripples across the surface when it does.  The water’s surface may eventually calm, but the effects of those ripples remain, even if it may not appear that way. While the lake where the pebble fell may appear identical to the lake where it didn’t, eventually, the effects of those ripples will resurface.”

“Hm.”  Carmichael hummed, his attention fixated on her sculpted back.

“For countless years, ripples have been spreading across the fabric of our reality, yet each time, the universe settles back into what it would have been.  It appears that now, the effects of all those ripples are catching up to us.”

It was really a shame that Diggory was walking ahead of the centaur.  He was missing some great views.

“Strange times lie ahead of us, human.  I wonder what your kind will make of them.”

“I couldn’t imagine.”  He replied, lost in watching the ripples of her muscles as she stretched her arms.

“Ah, there’s Hagrid.”  She waved her left arm in the air to get the groundskeeper’s attention.  “I appear to have found some of your charges. Try not to lose them again.”

“Eh, right.  Thank you, Brianna.”

“Thank me by keeping them safe.  Not all men are as durable as you, Hagrid.”

Hagrid looked suitably embarrassed, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “I’ll keep that in mind. Say hello to Firenze for me, would you?”

“I’ll pass on your message.”  She replied as she left, giving Carmichael one last, glorious look at her backside.

“Well that was an adventure, eh, Stephens?”

“Sure.”  Carmichael replied noncommittally.  He had other things on his mind after that.

Chapter Text

Tracey was feeling absolutely amazing.  She had three friends, the chance to spread unbridled mayhem, and the opportunity to steal the Philosopher’s Stone from under the noses of the teachers.  What more could a twelve-year-old girl want?

The perfect chance to go after the stone was almost upon her, too.  Today had presented her with the perfect opportunity, and all she had to do was grab it.  But first, she had to let her co-conspirators in on the plan.

They were (predictably) in the library, even though exams were over.  Daphne was reading a book on finance (boring), Hermione was reading Hogwarts, A History (again), and Harry was reading a book on blood magic the he was keeping concealed with the dust jacket from Hogwarts, A History .  

“How’s it going, Harry?”  She asked, sliding onto the bench next to him.

“Not great.”  He answered quietly.  “Most blood magic is based on more advanced spells than those taught to us in first year.  I think I’m going to need to know some more advanced spells to expand my blood magic repertoire beyond the Lumos and Incendio charms.”

Tracey peeked over at the book.  “What about that one?” She said, pointing at one of the spells on the list.  “The banishing charm. That one’s pretty basic, isn’t it?”

“It is, but it’s still not taught until second year.”

“So?  Neither are bluebell flames, and Hermione’s already learned those.”

Harry gave a noncommittal hum.  “I suppose I haven’t been as good about studying ahead as she has.  I guess I really should be, though, since blood magic is principally based on regular magic.”

“Sounds like a plan.”  Tracey replied. “Just focus on learning the ones that you know can be turned into a blood spell without blowing up.”

Harry winced.  “Yeah, blowing up would be… bad.”

“So guys,”  Tracey said, addressing the group, “do you know what today is?”

“The twenty-first of June.”  Hermione said without looking up from her book.  “And the first day after exams

“The summer solstice.”  Daphne added. “The day when the light energies of the world are strongest.”

“Sure, all of that mumbo jumbo,”  Tracey said dismissively, “but the important thing is that it’s the solstice.  Do you know what happens on the solstice?”

“A large number of people will perform illegal ceremonial rituals that were banned by the ministry for no good reason.”  Daphne replied with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“No!”  Tracey bit back, frustration leaking into her voice.  “The important thing that happens today!”

Daphne thought it over for a minute before ressponsing.  “I don’t think that Florean Fortescue offering a solstice discount on his ice cream is an important event, but I know you disagree.”

“Hey, discount ice cream is totally important!”  Tracey said defensively. “I wish we weren’t struck in Hogwarts so we could go get some…  But no! The important thing I’m talking about is that today is the summer solstice, and is thus one of the few days where the Wizengamot has a scheduled meeting.”

Everyone stared at her blankly.  Honestly, didn’t they get it?

Tracey let out a long sigh.  “Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of our school , is also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.  As such, he is going to be indisposed for the entire day and possibly most of the night.  Those meetings go on for hours, and as such, we’ll have our prime opportunity to steal the Philosopher’s Stone once the Wizengamot session is underway.”

They clearly weren’t as excited by the news as she was.  Hermione looked downright skeptical.

“Tracey… Are you sure this is a good idea?”  Hermione asked slowly.

What kind of question was that?  “Of course I’m sure. It’s a Philosopher’s Stone , Hermione!  Why wouldn’t we grab the opportunity to obtain one?  Sure, there’s the infinite money and immortality stuff that it grants, but it’s also an extremely powerful alchemical catalyst.  It would make my study of the field that much easier, as the Stone is basically the world’s only no-downsides magical amplifier, even if it only applies to alchemical magic.”

“Tracey… we’re first years.  Do you really think we can manage to steal such a powerful artefact?  Not only would it be extremely well-protected, but we’d have to avoid getting caught.”

“It’s actually not that big of a deal if we get caught.”  Harry added. “I have plenty of experience talking my way out of situations from both my time in primary school and dealing with my uncle, and both of those were situations where the odds were stacked against me from the start.  Here in Hogwarts, the only one we really have to worry about is Filch, and he’ll probably be more focused on punishing us than finding out what we were doing.”

Hermione’s lips were pursed, but she didn’t seem to have any counters to Harry’s proposal.  Instead, her attention was turned back on Tracey. “Please tell me you at least have a plan, Tracey.”

Tracey scoffed.  “Of course I don’t have a plan.  The first step to having your plan foiled is having a plan in the first place.  Your enemy can’t come up with a way to counter your next move if no one, not even you, knows what your next move will be.”

“And that’s why you’re bad at chess.”  Daphne commented.

“As if you’re any better!”  Tracey countered.

“I’m better than you.”

“And you just established that that’s a low bar!  Now, be ready. We’ll leave at a time that I will pick randomly based on a gut instinct.  Then, we perform the heist.”

“ Most heists have a plan …”  Hermione grumbled.

“Shut it, Granger!  Now, who’s in?”

Harry lazily waved his hand in the air and Daphne did the same, albeit more stiffly.  That left Hermione, who was glaring heavily at the rest of them.

“Well, Hermione?”   Tracey said teasingly.  “You can say no if you want to…”

“…Fine.  I’ll go. If only to keep you idiots from killing yourselves.”

“Yes!  Heist crew assembled!  Now we just have to wait for the right moment.  I’ll round you all up when the time is right.”

“What about Quirrell?”  Harry asked. “I mean, when we overheard him talking to Snape, didn’t it sound like he was after the Stone, too?”

“Oh please, you think we can’t handle Quirrell?  The guy may be a decent defence teacher, but there’s no way someone that skittish can handle themselves in a fight.  All it would take to bring him down is one good sneak attack. After all, it’s not like he has eyes on the back of his head.”

Neville was focusing on the Exploding Snap cards in his hand, trying not to lose his focus.  He was so close to beating Ernie, he just had to last a few more turns…

“Guys!  You’ll never guess what I found out!”

Neville jumped at the sound of Draco’s voice, the sudden movement jostling the cards in his hand enough that they blew up in his face.

"What's up, Draco?"  Ernie asked.

"I was wandering around in the library-"

Neville knew by this point that when Draco said he was "wandering around", what he was really doing was "stalking Harry Potter".

"-and I found out that he's planning to steal the Philosopher's Stone!  Today!"

What.   

"He's going to steal the Philosopher's Stone!?   How is he planning to manage that while we're still at school?  Doesn't Flamel live in France or something?" Nevile asked.

"That's the thing!  It's hidden here!   On the third floor corridor!"

"The Philosopher's Stone?  Here, in the Scottish Highlands, at a boarding school, during the school year, surrounded by children!? "  Ernie asked with increasing incredulity.

"Yes."  Draco replied with unflappable confidence.

"…Have you seen it?"

Draco faltered.  "…No."

"So you don't actually know it's there, then."

"But I heard them plotting !"  Draco protested.  "Even if the stone isn't actually there, then they're still trying to steal it!  I thought it over for a few hours, and I decided that we should wait until they’ve started their theft before telling McGonagall so she can catch them in the act!"

Neville was kind of appalled that it took Draco a few hours to come up with that plan.  "Shouldn't… shouldn't we have McGonagall stop them as soon as possible?" He asked, speaking up for the first time since Draco’s arrival.  "I mean, Dumbledore said that the third floor corridor was dangerous. Lethally dangerous.  I wouldn't want to see them hurt."

"But if they get caught in the act, they'll get in more trouble!"  Draco pouted. "I could finally see Potter expelled for trying to pull off something like this!"

Neville didn't really understand why Draco was so obsessed with trying to get Potter expelled.  Sure, Harry Potter was not what anyone expected. He was solitary and reclusive. It wasn't even just preferring solitude; he was actively hostile to most people who tried to interact with him, Granger, Greengrass, and Davis aside.  He especially hated any reference to him being the “Boy-who-lived”, though Neville was able to understand that, given that he lost his parents around the same time.

There was also the fact that Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin, though given that Neville was currently sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Draco Malfoy, he supposed weirder things had happened.  The Sorting Hat was completely off its rocker if it thought that either of them belonged in Gryffindor.

"I think… I think we should tell McGonagall now."  Neville said. "Whatever's down there is obviously dangerous, and we should make sure that they don't get hurt."

Draco huffed.  "Fine. But if they don't get in any trouble because they get caught before actually breaking any rules, then I'm blaming you for making us tell early.  Now come on! McGonagall should still be in her office. It's time to get Potter expelled!"

Neville found himself wondering what Draco would do with himself if Potter was actually expelled.  He sure would find himself with a lot more spare time if he succeeded.

Hermione was sitting in the Slytherin common room, doing her best to focus on her reading.  Her parents sent an Hercule Poirot book with a letter congratulating her on finishing her exams, and she had been pacing herself with it over the past day.  Now, she was finally near the end, at the part where Hercule was explaining how the murder was actually committed to all of the suspects in the case before revealing the true culprit.  He was just explaining what the actual murder weapon was and how it revealed the true murderer was…

Hermione jumped in her chair as a loud slam echoed from nearby.  She looked up to see Tracey leaned over, hands planted on the table in front of her.

“It’s go time, everyone.”  Tracey said with a grin.

Harry and Daphne put their things away and began getting up.  Hermione was less eager.

“ Now?   Really?  I just got to the good part.  Can’t I at least finish this chapter before we go?”

Tracey gave Hermione what she could only assume was supposed to be a condescending look.  Probably. Tracey didn’t do condescension well.

“Hermione.”  Tracey said with her hands on her hips.  “We are performing a heist. There isn’t time for you to ‘finish this chapter’ when we have a limited timeframe in which to move.”

“You waited until two hours after the Wizengamot session started to come get us!”

“That was probably a good idea, actually.”  Daphne said with a stretch. “The Wizengamot meetings are so wrapped up in red tape that the first two hours are usually solely devoted to establishing the terms of the meeting before starting the actual meeting.”

“That sounds inefficient.”  Harry commented.

“Governments are usually inefficient.  Magic may improve many things, but bureaucracy isn’t one of them.”  Daphne replied.

“Look, you guys can wait outside the common room door.  I swear, I’ll be out as soon as I finish this chapter.” Hermione said, trying not to beg.  She really didn’t want to stop now, but she also didn’t want to seem too desperate about it.  She knew she took books far more seriously than most people did, but she tried not to advertise the true extent of her obsession.

“How have you not finished that book, anyways?”  Tracey asked. “I mean, you’ve been reading it for over twenty-four hours.  I’ve seen you go through several books in less time than that.”

“Sometimes I like to pace myself so I can savour something.”  Hermione replied tersely. “Something I suspect you’re incapable of understanding.”

Tracey let out a cackling laugh.  “You’ve got that right! Fine, you have five minutes!  I’m sure you can manage the rest of the chapter in that time given your reading speed.  We’ll be outside waiting for you.”

Hermione curled up with her book for a few more minutes before she gave up on the chapter.  She’d been able to read on her own for years, but after just a few moments, she became acutely aware of the lack of company.

It was funny how after spending most of her life alone, it took less than a year for her to come to prefer the company of the odd assortment of people she now called her friends.

Hermione put the book back in her dorm and left the common room.  She could read another time.  

It was time to see what Tracey’s “heist” had in store for them.

Albus was sitting in the Wizengamot chambers, listening to Lord Ogden ramble about some piece of legislation that was designed to seem like common sense while mostly benefitting one person: himself.  It was designed to make it harder for citizens of magical Britain to obtain a license to sell aged consumable goods. Tiberius Ogden would have to pay a slightly higher price to maintain his license in the short term, but in the long term, he would have better business because less competition would be able to obtain the necessary paperwork to legally produce alcohol.  Of course, Tiberius was framing it as an issue of disreputable people in the agriculture business selling outdated goods — which was not illegal at the moment — by repeatedly citing a single case of someone running a stall that sold food thrown out by other vendors.

In short, it was politics as usual.

Frankly, Albus couldn’t care less about Ogden’s attempts to corner the liquor market.  It was the same level of petty, self-serving legislation that he’d come to expect in the many years he had served on the Wizengamot, and was the premier downfall of having a hereditary legislative body.  Lots of people who were more interested in serving their own interests rather than the interests of their fellow citizens.

Albus took a look around the room.  If there was any thin silver lining to be found from the aftermath of Tom’s war, it was that it pushed the Wizengamot closer to democracy.  Any time a family with a Wizengamot seat went extinct, then their seat became an elected one that was voted on by the general public.  Of course, most of the extinct families were traditionally light families, what with Tom’s ruthlessness against all he viewed as opposing him.

If only the cost of such a shift wasn’t so horribly high.

Frankly, Albus wished he could find a bloodless way to bring greater representation to the Ministry of Magic.  Alas, even if he was able to trust himself to do so without falling to the Trappings of Power, so long as Tom still persisted, his focus was better put elsewhere.  He would love to reform the government, but if Tom were to regain his full strength, then the Ministry needed to be strong enough to resist him, not re-establishing itself after a paradigm shift.

Granted, as Ogden began sidestepping a question in the exact same way for the third time in a row, he began to wonder if the Ministry was even strong enough to do that.

Amelia was apparently as bored as he was, as the gruff woman leaned over and began whispering at him.

“Was it really necessary to delay the session, Albus?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Amelia.”

“You came here by broom , Albus.  The Ministry has a perfectly serviceable floo and apparition point, and you decided to come here by broom, arriving half an hour late in the process.”  She hissed.

Albus suppressed a grin.  “Well, you see, Amelia, when you get to be my age, you learn to appreciate the small things.  Things like the sublime taste of muggle hard candies, or the wisdom that can be imparted to one’s juniors, or the nice feeling of the air in an early summer afternoon.  Sure, flooing and apparating have their uses, but, as the muggles say, sometimes it’s nice to stop and smell the roses.”

“You know, most people wouldn’t go out of their way to antagonise the combined legislative and judicial body of a government.”

“Antagonise people?  Me? Surely you jest, Amelia.  I can’t imagine what would possibly lead you to believe that I would antagonise people.”  Albus deadpanned. “Besides, even if I was the sort to antagonise others, I’m sure that it does these people good to be reminded that they are not the centre of the world.”

“Some of us have jobs , Albus.”

“I know.  I have two others outside our current company.”

“I hate you, Albus.”  Amelia growled.

“I’m afraid that I can’t return your feelings.  Besides, you know I don’t swing that way.”

Amelia went back to pretending to pay attention to the discussion over Tiberius’s bill, and Albus was about to do likewise when he a slight flashing in the corner of his glasses signalled that someone had just entered the third floor corridor.  The timing of it made sense, he supposed. If anyone was going to make a move on the corridor, then they would obviously do so when he was disposed in some way. It was a pity nonetheless. He would have liked to be there when the would-be “intruder” made it to the end.  

Well, maybe if they were still there when the session ended, he could congratulate them in person.

“So… How are we going to go about doing this?”  Daphne asked as they approached the locked door at the end of the third floor corridor.

“Simple.  We barge right in.”  Tracey replied with a grin.

“…Just once, I would like to see you come up with a plan that doesn’t involve charging right in.”

“Oh, come on!  Just think of this as being like the time we tried to sneak into your mom’s personal library.”

“Tracey…” Daphne said slowly, “we got caught when we did that.”

“And this time we won’t.  Easy as that!”

“Guys, focus!”  Harry snapped. “We’re already out of bounds and need to get started before we get caught.”

Daphne let the issue drop as Harry began an impromptu briefing.

“Behind this door is the cerberus.  We need to hit each head with a sleeping spell at around the same time to put it to sleep long enough to get past it.  In addition, the room is dark, so we’ll need a source of light. Daphne, since you have the worst aim and the most skill at generic charms, you’ll have to be our light source so we can aim.  Are there any spells you can cast while maintaining a decently powered lumos?”

Daphne shook her head.  “Probably not. I might be able to manage casting a levitation charm or knockback jinx, but neither of those are able to affect living beings, let alone XXXX beasts.”

Harry nodded.  “Right, in that case, try and keep an eye on things.  Let us know if there’s something in our blind spot or something like that.  Now then, the rest of us will be working to put it to sleep. The heads on the side will have the widest range and will therefore be the hardest to hit.  Since Hermione and I have the best aim, we’ll be taking those — me on the left and Hermione on the right. Tracey will take the centre head. Any questions?”

“Yes.”  Hermione stated.  “How are we going to get through this door?”

“The door?  The door is the easy part.”  Tracey levelled her wand at the door.  “ Alohomora .”

Daphne scoffed.  “Please, there is no way that could possibly-”

The bright blue bolt hit the door, which opened with a click.

“-work.”

“Daphne!  We need light now!”  Harry shouted as the growling from within the room grew louder.

Daphne whipped her wand up and cast the light spell, channelling as much power into the spell as she could manage.  As she stepped into the cerberus’s domain with her friends flanking her, the light from her wand spilled out into all the nooks and corners of the room.  

“ Somnium !”  Three voices cried in unison.  Harry’s and Tracey’s shots struck true, though Hermione’s went wide as the cerberus’s head swept down to bite at her.  She cast a second spell to put it to sleep mid-lunge, but by that point the other two heads had already reawoken, with the third head reawakening mere seconds after Hermione’s spell hit it.

Daphne was realising just how durable these things were.  It was one thing to learn that a single alert cerberus head could reawaken the other two.  It was another thing altogether to watching it do so in person. The thing must be able to shrug off whole volleys of nonlethal spells this way, even in amounts that more resilient creatures would begin to succumb to.

“ Somnium !”  They shouted again.  This time, it sidestepped most of the volley, with only Tracey’s shot hitting a target, though not the one she intended.

Daphne took a quick look around the room.  A large trapdoor could be seen in the centre of the room, which was likely their path forward.  The cerberus was moving around the room to dodge the incoming spells, but never strayed too far from the trapdoor, reinforcing their need to take it down to progress.  The only other object of note was a harp in the near corner of the room. Its mere existence gave her pause.

Cries of " Somnium !" echoed through the room again, but Daphne's mind was elsewhere.  Why the hell was there a harp in here? Weren’t cerberi weak to music?  Why would someone leave a harp sitting around in a cerberus’s room, unless…?

…Unless they didn’t have a chance to pick it up yet.

There was one obvious conclusion: they weren’t the first ones to come down the corridor.  Someone got here before them and left the harp sitting around after they were finished. Daphne knew that there were spells to get instruments to automatically play a simple melody.  Someone else, likely Quirrell, must have gotten here before them, left the harp playing a song to put the cerberus to sleep, then planned to pick it up later once he’d made away with his quarry.

Which meant that they had competition.

She supposed that it made sense.  After all, Tracey had pointed out that this was an ideal time for them to steal the stone, so surely the other interested party — or parties, possibly — would realise that as well.

Still, the fact that the harp was still here meant that they still had a chance.  Quirrell hadn’t made it back yet, which meant that he was still somewhere deeper along the gauntlet.  They just had to best him.

A shriek in Tracey’s voice made Daphne’s attention snap back to the ongoing fight.  Tracey was splayed out on the floor, likely from tripping, and the cerberus was barrelling down on her.  Thinking as quickly as she could manage, Daphne whirled around and pointed her wand at the harp.

“ Wingardium Leviosa !”

She saw the light from her wand flicker and dim and could feel the strain of trying to maintain two spells at once.  She moved the harp until it was in between her and the cerberus before cutting the levitation charm and casting her next spell.

“ Flipendo !”

The bright orange burst of light from her wand sent the harp flying toward the cerberus where it smashed into the side of the central head that was lunging at Tracey’s prone form.  The collision left the cerberus dazed for just long enough for Harry to take control of the situation.

“Now!  Somnium !”  He shouted.

Hermione and Tracey were on Harry’s order from the get-go, casting their spells in almost perfect synchronicity.  As all three heads fell asleep, the cerberus shuddered for a second before slumping over to the side.

“Success!”  Tracey said with far too much pep as she jumped up from the floor.  “Let’s move on to the next one!”

“Not so fast.”  Daphne said. “Someone’s already here ahead of us, and we need to be prepared to fight them.”

Daphne did her best to explain her reasoning as Tracey pulled open the enormous trapdoor, but she wasn’t sure how much of an effect her explanation had.

“Look, we just have to beat him, right?”  Tracey said as the trap door opened against the floor with a muffled thud.  “Besides, the dude looks like he’s on his deathbed. He shouldn’t pose any real threat.”

Daphne groaned.  “Can’t you take anything seriously?  We’re trying to steal something — on your insistence — and you refuse to take the rival thief seriously.  We don’t even know if he’s the only one after the stone!”

Tracey whirled around, her expression unusually serious.  “You didn’t see Quirrell earlier today. I passed him in the hallway while you guys were in the library and he looks terrible.  His skin was grey with blue veins visible underneath it. With how bad he looks, I consider it a miracle that he hasn’t keeled over already.  The man is clearly horribly ill and on his deathbed.”

“Well no wonder he wants the Philosopher’s Stone.”  Hermione commented. “He wants to heal himself. If he’s already obtained the stone and used the elixir by the time we catch up to him, wouldn’t he be a threat then?”

Tracey shook her head.   “The Elixir of Life requires six to eight hours to properly create.  He wouldn’t have enough time to make a dose before we could fight him, and that’s assuming he’s even able to get to the stone before us, which I doubt will happen.”

“Really?”  Daphne asked incredulously.  “You don’t think he’ll get to the stone before us?  The security measures we’ve found so far aren’t exactly amazing.”  Seriously, a door that can be opened with a basic unlocking charm and a magical beast with a simple weakness?  Sure, it wasn’t a weakness that they were able to exploit due to a lack of musical talent, but still.

Tracey, meanwhile, was laughing.  “You think this is the real protection?  No, this is obviously a setup. This paltry level of protection is obviously just to make it seem underprotected so everyone lets their guard down, then they stick the real security measures after that.”  All the mirth left Tracey’s face is an instant. “This is a setup, and we are not going to fall for it, got it?  Do not let your guard down.  Now, are we ready to progress?”

Daphne was annoyed that one of the few times Tracey was ever visibly serious was when she was trying to steal a magical artefact.  Then again, what else could she expect? It was Tracey, after all. Daphne’s mother did affectionately refer to Tracey as “mayhem incarnate” on several occasions.

Tracey cast a Lumos and tried to shine some light down the trapdoor entrance.  “I can’t see anything down there. Well, into the abyss we go!”  she said as she jumped down the entrance.

Daphne sighed, and after Harry and Hermione had jumped down, Daphne too leapt into the darkness.

Minerva stared at the students in front of her.  Of all the unlikely friendships that she had seen happen due to this year’s odd sorting, Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom, and Ernie Macmillan was by and large the strangest.  Of course, as bizarre as their friendship was, the accusations Malfoy was currently levelling at her were even more outlandish.

“Let me get this straight, Mister Malfoy.  You mean to tell me that you overheard Harry Potter in the library going over a plan to steal the Philosopher’s Stone?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

Minerva struggled to hold in a sigh.  “And your solution to overhearing this was to come and tell me several hours after the fact so that Mister Potter and his friends could be expelled for being caught in the act?”

His face dropped and a hint of panic could be seen in his expression.  “N-no, I was just… worried. Yes, I was worried about what he would do to me if he found out that I was the one who told!”

“…I see.  You were that scared of him relatiating?”

He nodded again.

“But not so scared that you weren’t willing to call him an ‘attention-seeking arse’ who would ‘get what’s coming to him’ as you did several times when explaining the situation to me?”

The smile was gone from his face in an instant and he just gaped at her.  “Well, um, I… that is…”

“Is that not what you said earlier?  I believe your exact wording you used was ‘Potter, being the attention seeking arse that he is, is trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone.  He should already be in the process of stealing it, so you need to catch him so he can get what’s coming to him and be expelled’. Is that not what you said to me mere moments ago?”

Malfoy blushed and looked ashamed at that.  Well, at least he had enough decency to do that.  Maybe the little chit wasn’t hopeless yet, in spite of his upbringing.

“Now then, Mister Malfoy, I am not going to deduct house points or give you any detentions for this incident.  That would not be fair to you, nor to your housemates. Instead, I am going to encourage you to drop whatever childish grudge you have against Mister Potter.  It seems entirely unreasonable given that I have never once seen him antagonising you the way you try to antagonise him. Am I clear?”

He blushed further at that, but still protested further.  “But Professor! They really are trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone!  Davis was talking about her plan to steal it”

Ah, so it was Miss Davis who was behind this plan, then.  Taking after her mother’s ability to cause chaos, it seemed.

Minerva stood up from her desk and began leading Malfoy out of the room.  “I don’t know how Miss Davis would be able to accomplish that given that students are forbidden from leaving the grounds and she’s only a first year.  Now, I have exams I need to finish grading.”

“But Professor-!”  He said before she cut him off.

“No buts, Mister Malfoy.  Keep pushing the issue and I will reconsider my earlier decision to not give you a detention.  I’m sure Filch would be very displeased to have to tend to a student this close to the end of the year.”

Malfoy paled at that, so she knew her words had the desired effect.  No one enjoyed detentions with Filch, not even Filch himself.  It was the most effective deterrent Minerva had at her disposal, and all save the Weasleys twins were at least partially cowed by such threats.

“Now then, it’s a bright summer day, so why don’t you go and enjoy it with Mister Longbottom and Mister Macmillan, alright?  The Philosopher’s Stone is safe.”

As she shut the door behind him, she let out a sigh.   She’d have to speak to Albus about his plans for the Philosopher’s Stone.  As the only person besides him and Flamel who knew the entirety of the plan, she felt it her duty to point out issues as she came across them.

The plan was risky, of course.  When Albus had first proposed the idea of using the Stone as live bait in a trap the capture and study Voldemort’s… remnants, she was horrified.  After all, the mere chance of that monster obtaining an artefact as powerful as the stone was frankly horrifying. It was only after the true extent of the hidden traps and safeguards were explained to her that she relented to the virtues of such a plan.  It was still a risk, but such a marginally small one. From there, the plan was to subtly spread rumours that Flamel had relocated his Philosopher’s Stone to a new location because he was concerned about its theft, and this was the issue that Minerva had just run into.

Clearly, the rumours were being spread either too much or to the wrong people if the likes of Miss Davis and Mister Malfoy were aware of the Stone’s location.  Minerva would have to pop up to his office and mention this to him before she went down to the Great Hall for dinner.

Minerva stilled.  Albus wasn’t here.  Albus was overseeing the Wizengamot session.

If someone was going to steal the stone, they would likely make a move today, while Albus was distracted.

She was fairly certain that Flamel was also remotely monitoring the traps, but still…

She’d best make sure that the traps and protections were still being monitored.

Minerva opened the secret passage at the back of her classroom and began making her way towards Albus’s office.  She could firecall Flamel from there to make sure that every part of the plan was still intact. Better to be safe than sorry.

“How’d it go?”  Neville asked as soon as Draco left McGonagall’s office.

“She didn’t take me seriously at all!”  Draco pouted.

“Look, it’s… it’s alright, Draco.”  Ernie said in an awkward attempt to comfort him.  “There’s always the next time?”

“No.”  Draco said, gently pushing the other boy away from him.  “There won’t be a next time. If the teachers won’t stop him, then we need to stop him ourselves.”

“Draco, what are you…?”  Neville trailed off.

“Come on.”  Draco said, his voice filled with determination.  “We need to stop Harry Potter from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected when he landed.  Some sort of cushion, perhaps. Maybe even just a solid stone floor that would leave all of them with some broken bones.  That would probably put an end to their heist, and Harry would have to talk them out of whatever trouble they would be in when they got caught.

Fortunately, they landed on something soft.  It wasn’t a cushion — the surface was far too slimy and uneven, but it was enough to break their fall with nothing more than a few bruises.

Daphne came down last, her wand still lit as she tried to keep it in her grip.  She at least managed to land on her feet, though given how soft the ground was, that meant that she sank up to her waist as she landed.  Harry failed to suppress a giggle at the sight. Daphne just glared at him.

“Laugh all you want.  At least I landed somewhat elegantly, instead of sprawled out like you all are.”

Harry managed to contain his peals of laughter and looked around the room.  “So, where are we? And what is this stuff?”

Under the light of Daphne’s Lumos charm, hundreds, no, thousands of cold, slimy tendrils were visible, slowly shifting over each other.  It almost reminded him of a tub of hagfish, but they were too long, and he could some cracks in the wall that it appeared to be growing out of.

“…Vines?”  He said slowly.

No sooner did he say that did the vines start grabbing at him, trying to grasp at his extremities and pin him down.

“Oh no…  This is devil’s snare!”  Hermione shouted as she lashed out at the vines attempting to grab her with several cutting charms.

Right, Harry remembered when Sprout gave that lecture.  Granted, his memory of the lecture was vague since it occurred during the last section of the day on a Friday, and his mind was preoccupied with the thought of being able to go flying the next day.  Still, it was a plant, so Harry quickly lashed out with several incendio charms.  Much to his dismay, the effect was a lot weaker than he would have liked.  The vines winced every time they were hit, but their natural dampness prevented the spells from igniting them.

“Light!”  Hermione shouted.  “Use light spells!”

Harry switched to a lumos and tried to ward off the encroaching vines, but he couldn’t produce enough light to fully ward them off of him.  The tendrils kept lashing at him in the blind spots cast by his own shadow. “It’s not enough!” Harry shouted.

Though he wasn’t sure that needed to be said when he looked up from his own struggle.  Hermione was lashing out with cutting charms while trying to keep her lumos at maximum power.  Tracey had forgone the light charm altogether in favour of a fire stream charm, which actually seemed to be a fairly effective deterrent, though she was still getting smacked around on occasion.  Daphne was fighting at a severe disadvantage, as she was still mostly buried in the vines and had much more limited movement. It didn’t take long for one of them to pull on her wrist in such a way that she lost her grip on her wand, the lumos charm flickering out and plunging her area of the room into darkness.

“Use your blood lumos !”  She shouted before her voice was muffled by the constricting vines.

Harry didn’t need to be told twice.  He grabbed the needle he’d taken to keeping with him out of the pocket of his robes, but with the constant grasping of the vines, he managed to lose his grip and fumble it into the writhing mass beneath him.

Shit.

Well, Harry needed blood.  He didn’t have the time to be picky about it.  He turned his wand at his other palm and cast a cutting charm with as little power as he could muster.

The resulting cut was still painfully deep.

Compartmentalising the pain to deal with later, He smeared some of his blood on the handle of the wand  and willed it through the wood to connect with the magical core of the wand. Once he was sure that it had been absorbed, he closed his eyes and shouted “ Lumos !”

As he tried not to wince from the sheer brightness of the spell — because even with his eyes closed it was just so damn bright — he heard screeching and slithering noises as he felt the devil’s snare relinquish its grip on him.  When the light finally dimmed back down to acceptable levels, he opened his eyes and gave them a moment to adjust.  By the time he could actually make out colours and shapes in the now much darker room, he was able to see that Hermione and Tracey needed more time to adapt, presumably because they didn’t have their eyes closed when he cast the spell.  Daphne was picking up her wand and using it to try to remove the wrinkles and slime from her outfit.

“Right, so, uh, we did it?”  Harry said cautiously.

Hermione glared at him.  “A bit of warning would be nice next time, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied sarcastically, “I was too busy trying to save us from the deadly, groping vines.  Excuse me for not giving a warning before saving all of our skins.”

Tracey snapped in between their eyes.  “Not the time for this, people. We need to get a move on, pronto.  Everyone ready?”

Harry shone his light around the room until his eye caught the glint of metal on the smooth stone floor.  He picked up his needle from where it had fallen before nodding at Tracey. She nodded back and began casting spells at the door to the next room.  She was obviously unfamiliar with some of them, as it took her a few tries to cast them.

Harry clenched his fists in agitation and winced as he felt the cut in his palm, giving a small grunt as he did so.  Hermione noticed and sighed.

“Give me your hand.”  She she said resignedly.  “We can’t very well keep going if you’re in pain the whole way.”

Harry held out his palm and Hermione swished her wand a few times and muttered “ Episkey .”  The sudden lack of pain as the wound closed up was palpable.

“Thanks.”  He said, flexing his hand.  “I should learn that one in case I ever need it.”

“Ideally, you won’t.  It’s always good to be prepared.”

Tracey finished casting her spells at the door and tilted her head to the side in confusion.  “Huh,” she said flatly, “there aren’t any signs of traps of wards on this door or the hallway behind it.  We’ll need to be cautious as we proceed. Everyone ready to go?”

Harry, Hermione, and Daphne all nodded at her.

“Great, then let’s go.”

Chapter Text

“So far, we’ve faced a killer dog and killer plants.”  Harry commented as they made their way down the corridor, Tracey repeating her set of detection charms every five metres.  “What do you think we’ll have to deal with next?”

"Killer bugs?"  Tracey suggested as she cast the last charm in her sequence and began walking again.

Daphne shuddered.  "Ugh, I hope not."

"I wouldn't have taken you for the sort of girl who's afraid of bugs."  Hermione said.

“I'm not afraid of bugs — I just don't like them.  I'm fine with the multiple eyes and multiple legs, but the sounds their joints make as they walk makes my skin crawl."  She squinched her eyes shut and covered her ears with her hands.  "Ugh, I'm feeling gross just thinking about it.”

Harry had realised pretty early on in their friendship that Daphne seemed to process certain sensations differently than most people.  There were certain foods she refused to touch, and she was incredibly picky about the material and cut of her clothing.  Harry couldn't relate, but it was easy enough to get used to her quirks — after all, he was pretty sure that all of his friends, himself included, were strange in some way or another.  If anything, it was kind of a relief to have some oddness in his life after spending the better part of a decade in the oppressively normal neighbourhood of Little Whinging.

"Killer bugs wouldn't fit the pattern, though."  Hermione observed.  Seeing the dumbstruck look everyone else was giving her, she elaborated.  "Well, the first room was obviously set up by Hagrid.  The second room was set up by Professor Sprout.  We know that there's a troll further on, which would be Professor Quirrell's challenge.  So the remaining challenges are likely ones that were set up by the remaining teachers."

Daphne nodded.  "So the remaining challenges are ones that were made by Sinistra, Flitwick, Snape, or McGonagall… plus maybe Hooch or the elective teachers."

"No sense in thinking ahead, people.  We have no idea what's ahead, so we may as well just take it one challenge at a time to save our energy."  Tracey said as she cast her charms at the door to the next room.  Once she finished, she groaned aloud.  "Speaking of saving energy, all those charms I just did were worthless .  There were no traps in this hallway.  We could have just walked down this whole thing with no issues."

Daphne shrugged.  "Better safe than sorry, I suppose."

Harry took in the sights of the next room as Daphne pushed the door open.

It was enormous.  The room was wide, not much wider than the room before, but still fairly spacious.

The room's real size came from its height.  It was easily three or four stories high, high enough that Harry wondered where in the layout of Hogwarts this room could possibly be hidden.  Of course, then he remembered the existence of the infinite corridor and realised that magic was probably involved in some way or another.  Several columns extended from the room's floor to its ceiling, with several… stone support beams between them.  He knew there was a specific term for such things, but he couldn't recall it offhand.

Various… winged things were flying around the upper area of the room.  Their wings made them almost resemble birds, but their motions through the air were too smooth.  Some sort of magical construct, perhaps?  Whatever they were, they likely played into the defences of this room.  Harry was actually surprised that they weren't already being attacked, given the nature of the last two rooms.

Tracey made a beeline for the door on the opposite side of the room and cast her detection charms.  “Ah, now this is more along the lines of what I’d expect.  The door is warded against all sorts of unlocking charms and is extremely resistant to damage and being removed from the wall.  It needs to be unlocked with a key.”

“What, so that’s it?”  Hermione complained as Daphne gestured for Harry to come to her.  “We come all this way and can’t go any farther because we need a key?  A key we don’t even know the location of?”

Daphne waved her arm at the pair of brooms lying at her feet.  “No, that isn’t it, because the key is in this room.”  She pointed up at the odd bird things gliding around the upper half of the room.  “I bet it’s flying around up there.”

Harry squinted at the bird things, and was able to make out that they did indeed seem to be winged keys.

“Seems a bit… I don’t know… obvious?”  He mused.  “I mean, why would the real key be here if they were really focused on keeping this place secure?  Wouldn’t they want to keep it safe somewhere else and make all of these keys fake?”

“Entirely possible…”  Tracey said thoughtfully, tapping her finger on her chin.  “But I doubt it.  This challenge was probably designed by either Flitwick or McGonagall, since the flying keys would fall under either of their specialties.”  She eyed the broomsticks.  “I’d wager that this one is McGonagall’s, if the quidditch angle of this challenge is anything to go by.  The point is, neither of them seem like the sort who’d go for that sort of trick.”

“Well, Harry and Daphne are the best on brooms, so they should be the ones to go for it.”  Hermione said with obvious relief.  “After all, we need to move as fast as possible, lest we get caught.”

Harry mounted the broom as Daphne did likewise.  “Alright, we’ll do a few searching sweeps first.  We just need to make sure we avoid the support beams up there.”

“Buttresses.”  Hermione clarified.  “They’re called buttresses.”

Tracey let out a snorting laugh and Harry struggled not to do likewise.

“What!?  They are!”  She defended herself.  “I’m not the one who gave them that name!”

“Right, so avoid the buttbeams.”  Tracey giggled.  Harry failed to suppress his laughter that time.

Okay, he needed to focus.  Especially since he’d never tried to catch an object while flying before.  Come to think of it, how was he supposed to maintain his balance while wildly grasping at an object in the air?  It seemed like a rather risky maneuver to perform.  Why was quidditch even an authorised school sport?  Sure, magical humans were tougher than non-magical humans, but even that durability only went so far.  Doing frantic aerial dives on a broomstick was one thing, but doing them with one hand while trying to grab something with the other?  That was just dangerous.

Well, at least the keys weren’t moving too quickly.

Harry regretted thinking that as the keys rapidly picked up speed once he and Daphne entered the upper section of the room.

“Shit!”  He swore as several of the keys broke formation to swarm them.  Harry went into a quick dive and swerved around several of the columns to break apart the swarm.  Daphne had lost her swarm by flying through several of the… beams.  Harry couldn’t bring himself to call them by their actual name and still maintain his composure.

“What are we looking for?”  He shouted as he pulled up alongside Daphne.  “There are hundreds of keys up here!”

“Shush.”  Daphne said flatly, her eyes fixed on the swarms.  “Currently looking.  Cover me.”

Harry sighed and broke apart a few swarms that had started to dive towards them.  He really hoped Daphne knew what she was doing, as he had no idea how to pick out a particular object from a crowd.

“Found it!”  She shouted triumphantly.  “That key, the large silver one, is flying in a separate pattern from the other swarms.  I’d wager it’s the one we’re looking for.”

Harry didn’t think that was sensible.  After all, wouldn’t it make more sense to not have the correct key stick out?  Then again, there were probably technical issues involved with animating this many keys.  It was honestly incredible that McGonagall was able to do all of this.

“So… what now?”  He asked.

“We catch it.”  She replied, her tone still flat.

Right, she was clearly in one of those states where she was so focused on something she forgot to emote.  This happened with her every once in a while.  Harry ignored it and went after the key instead.  Now that Daphne had pointed it out, it was easy to pick it out in the swarm.  Harry was doing his best to tail it, but it was using its small size to make moves that he couldn’t make on his broom.  It was clearly designed to take full advantage of the room’s architecture.

While Harry was trying to tail the key, Daphne was attempting to intercept it, trying to determine its path and swoop in to grab it from the side.  It was when she was making one such attempt that she nearly bowled into Harry.

Harry groaned.  “This is impossible!  How are we supposed to catch a key like this while we’re on a broom!?”

“Seekers do it all the time!”  Tracey shouted from the floor.

“Quidditch is dumb, Tracey!”  Daphne shouted back.

“So,” Harry said, interrupting Daphne’s oncoming anti-quidditch rant before it could begin, “if we can’t catch the key directly, then we’ll need some other approach.  Know any spells that would be useful in this situation?”

Daphne shook her head.  Well, so much for that idea.

“What are you two talking about up there!?”  Hermione yelled.  “We can’t hear you!”

“We need a spell to stop the key!”  Harry yelled back.  “The damn thing is too fast and we don’t know how to catch things while flying!”

“Why don’t you just cast an Impedimentor at it!?”

“A what!?”

“An Impedimentor!  It’s…  Get down here!  I am not yelling my whole explanation!”

Harry glanced at Daphne, who shrugged, before the two descended.  “What the hell is an Impedimentor?”  He asked as he hovered just above the floor.

“It’s a hex that slows down an object for a few seconds.  Didn’t you go through the 1970 Edition of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2 like I told you to?”

Harry exchanged a glance with Daphne to confirm that neither one of them had done it.  In their defence, Hermione had done it during her brief period of exam obsession before Daphne talked her out of it.  Hermione apparently had it in her head that they needed to not only study their textbooks, but the textbooks for the next year, as well as old editions of those same books that had several spells that had since moved elsewhere in the curriculum.  Naturally, Harry, Daphne, and Tracey had ignored Hermione’s weird impulse and continued their own studies.

Hermione sighed and put her hands on her hips.  “Well, let this be a lesson to all of you to study the materials I tell you to.  The Impedimentor is a spell that slows down an object for a few seconds.  The wand movement is simple, but the pronunciation can be tricky.  Like so.”

The wand movement really was simple, Harry noted.  The intonation was a bit tricky for him to get down — tricky enough that it took him almost a dozen tries to actually get it right.  Once he and Daphne had successfully cast it a few times, they moved back to the upper areas of the room.  Harry scanned the flock of keys until he picked out the one that was flying on its own.  His target spotted, he leaned forward on his broom and gave chase.

He flicked his wand at the key.  “ Impedimenta !”  Unfortunately, aiming a spell while riding a broom was only marginally easier than wildly grasping at an object while on a broom, and the spell went wide.

“ Impedimenta !”  Daphne’s shot was better aimed, but hit another key that flew into its path.

Harry aimed again, taking care to compensate for the motion of the broom.  “ Impedimenta !”  His aim was true, but the key dove down just before the spell would have connected.

“Is this thing trying to infuriate us?”  Daphne asked… rhetorically?  It could be hard to tell with her.

“Maybe.”  He replied.

He kept his eye on the key’s pattern for a while.  It was following a set path, but seemed to have a limited ability to dodge spellfire.  What he needed was a way to make sure that it couldn’t dodge…  

“I’ve got it!”  He said before diving after the key.  Daphne followed behind him, taking the occasional potshot at it, though none of them hit.  Harry waited for the key to get to the part of its path where it spiralled up along one of the columns…

There!

“ Impedimenta !  Impedimenta !”  He shouted.  The key was currently in between two of the… the buttresses…  Harry snickered at the name again.  Really, why would anyone call a support beam a buttress?  Whatever, that wasn’t important.  What was important was that the key had one to the top, one to the bottom, and the column to its side.  It had only one direction it could dodge — the location he’d aimed the second spell.

Harry’s giggling about buttresses caused him to lose some speed, so Daphne overtook him and snatched the stilled key out of the air.  “Got it!  Now let’s get going.”

The two of them descended to the bottom part of the room, leaving the brooms where they found them.  Daphne turned the key in the lock and started down the hallway with Hermione not far behind her.

As Harry and Tracey followed, he leaned over to Tracey and whispered “Buttress.”

The two of them burst into hysterics as Daphne and Hermione looked on disapprovingly.

“This is the forbidden corridor?”  Neville asked quietly as they snuck down the hallway.  “I thought it would look more… abandoned.”

“Abandoned how?”  Ernie asked as he checked to make sure that they weren’t being followed.

Neville shrugged.  “I thought it would look all dusty and have cobwebs everywhere.  I mean, it hasn’t been used all year, so you’d think it would actually look abandoned.”

Draco scoffed loudly — far too loudly for the sneaking they were supposed to be doing.  “Obviously they don’t want it to look abandoned.  If it looks abandoned, then everyone would want to sneak down here because it would be so suspicious.”

They rounded the corner to the part of the corridor that was actually forbidden.  Neville could tell because everything was covered in a layer of dust and there were cobwebs everywhere.

“Oh, come on !”  Draco pouted, stamping his foot on the ground.

“Who’s there!”  Filch shouted from behind them.

“Crap.  Run!”  Ernie yelled.  Neville pushed himself to run faster than he ever had before, reaching for the door handle and shaking it wildly in an attempt to get away from whatever punishment Filch would sic on them.

“Open the door, Neville!”  Draco yelled.

“I can’t — it’s locked!”  Neville exclaimed.

Ernie whipped out his wand and pointed it at the door.  “ Alohomora! ”

The door clicked open and all three of them shoved themselves through the door before Neville slammed it shut behind them.

“That was close…”  Ernie said as he caught his breath.  “I thought for sure we were doomed.”

“Guys…”  Draco said slowly.

“Where did you learn that spell, anyways?”  Neville asked.  “I don’t remember it being covered in any of our classes.  Did I miss a class or something?”

“Guys…”  Draco said a little more loudly.

Ernie shook his head.  “It was in one of the spellbooks, but it isn’t taught in class.  I skimmed the books for any spells that seemed useful, and that one caught my attention.”

“Guys!”  Draco shouted.  “There is a sleeping cerberus over there by that trap door!”

Neville turned to where Draco was pointing, and confirmed that there was indeed a sleeping cerberus near an open trapdoor.

“Well that’s not something you see every day.”  Ernie remarked.

“Quick, let’s get going before it wakes up!”  Draco hissed while waving them on.  He hunched down over the trapdoor entrance, trying to get a look at what, if anything, was at the bottom.

Neville was starting to think that this was a very dumb idea.

“Look,” Draco explained, “We don’t know what’s going to be down there, but it doesn’t matter, because we’ll do everything possible to stop Potter from stealing the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Right.”  Ernie confirmed.  “We’re Gryffindors.  We’ll charge into whatever situation faces us because we have to.”

Draco made a face at that remark.  “Come on, then.  Let’s do this.”

Draco jumped into the darkness and Ernie followed.  Neville hesitated for a moment before the dog huffed in its sleep, which was all the persuasion he needed.  He didn’t want to be around when the dog woke up, so he jumped into the darkness after his friends.

Neville regretted jumping almost as soon as he did it, since he quickly realised that the jump was much deeper than he expected it to be.  What was the sense in having a trapdoor if the resulting passage was so deep that dropping down would kill a man instantly?  Of course, that concern was addressed as he felt his descent slow near the bottom.  There must have been some sort of slowing charm to keep people safe.  That made sense — Hogwarts's architecture was malevolent at the worst of times, but it was never truly dangerous.

When Neville landed in the room, his attention was quickly drawn to the action that was already unfolding.  Draco and Ernie were letting loose as many fire and light spells as they could manage — which wasn't many, since they were first years — against a huge mass of devil's snare.  Neville's eyes widened as he saw them losing the battle, and he realised what he had to do.

Neville had never successfully cast this spell before, but he needed it to work right now!   He waved his wand as closely as he could remember to the diagram shown in the books, and shouted “ Expelliarmus! ”

A pale blue bolt of light shot out of his wand and sent Ernie’s wand flying from his hand.  Feeling emboldened, Neville did the same thing to Draco, sending his wand flying into the pile of vines to join Ernie’s.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Longbottom!?”  Draco shouted as he began to wrestle with the grasping vines.”

“What am I doing!?”  Neville asked incredulously.  “ I’m not the one who was torturing that poor devil’s snare!”

“It attacked us!  It’s still attacking us!”  Draco said as he tried to throw off the vines that were binding his arms together.

“Of course it attacked you!  You just fell into its nest from the ceiling!  You’d probably also be freaked out if something fell through the ceiling of your house while you were just sitting around!”

“It started grabbing at us and squeezing us!  It’s doing the same thing to you right now!”

Neville looked at the tendril-like vines that were currently exploring his form, leaving slime trails all over his robes.  “That’s just it being curious!  It’s trying to check you out!”

Ernie made some muffled noises as the snare wrapped him tighter.

“It’s a man-killing plant, Longbottom!  Sprout said as much in her lecture!”  Draco shouted.

Neville put his hands on his hips and glared at Draco.  “It’s ‘dangerous’ because most people are stupid and provoke it!  Now, stop being mean to this poor, misunderstood plant and let me handle this!”

Draco collapsed as further layers of vines dragged him down.  "If we die here, then I'm blaming you!"

Draco needed to stop being so pessimistic about this — one would think he'd never wrestled with dangerous plants before.  Neville had been doing it for years at this point!

"Excuse me," Neville said to the mass of vines, "could you please let those two go?"

The vines wiggled at him in disbelief.

"Yes, I know they were very rude.  It's obvious that they were never taught how to act."

The wiggling became more aggressive.

"I'm sorry, but I need them alive.  They're of no use to me if you eat them."

The vines' wiggling slowed.

"How about… if you let them go now, then I'll bring you something even bigger tomorrow?  You'd have to wait a bit, but you'd get even more food than if you ate these two.  They're not very big, after all."

The vines paused.  After a minute of consideration, they retreated, relinquishing Ernie and Draco, who both took deep gasping breaths.

"See?"  Neville told them.  "You can accomplish a lot if you just use your words."

"It nearly ate us!"  Draco exclaimed.

"Don't be so hard on it!  It didn't know any better, and it was hungry.  Besides which, you scared it."

"You are so weird, Longbottom."  Draco said as he stood up and walked to the door.

Well it wasn't his fault that Draco never learned how to act around plants!  Really, the nerve of some people…

Daphne watched as Tracey pushed open the door to the next room, which slowly lit itself as they entered.  A giant chessboard dominated the centre of the room, with several replacement pieces sitting around the edges.

This would be Flitwick's challenge.  It was also one they were very poorly equipped to deal with.

"Chess."  Daphne said flatly.  "It had to be chess .  I don't suppose any of us are any good?"

The question was mostly rhetorical, of course.  Daphne had never really figured out how to play chess well, and Tracey lacked any tendency towards strategy, and usually lost in less than twenty turns.  Harry's upbringing certainly didn't give him room to learn to play games, let alone become good at them.  That left…

"I might be able to."  Hermione said.  "My grandfather on my dad’s side was a champion chess player, and I played against him a few times before he passed away."

"Perfect!"  Tracey shouted.  "Onward to victory!"

"I never won a game, though!"  Hermione desperately tried to explain.

"But you know how to play, which makes you our best chance!"  Tracey said as she pushed Hermione towards the chess board.  "Besides, we're the good guys and good guys always win."

They were doomed .  So very doomed.  Daphne always knew that she would die as a result of one of Tracey's schemes — she just didn't think it would be this soon.

“Okay, um…”  Hermione looked at the board.  “Am I… How am I supposed to move the pieces?  I doubt I could push them…”

Tracey stared blankly at Hermione until Daphne couldn’t take it anymore and piped up.  “It’s magical chess, Hermione.  The pieces move where you tell them to.”

Realisation dawned on Hermione’s face.  “Oh…  Yes, that makes sense.  Um…  Okay, fourth pawn, two spaces forward!”

None of the pieces moved.

“Did… Did I not use the right term to command it to move?”  She asked.

“No, that was an acceptable way to command your pieces.”  Daphne said, observing the board quizzically.  “There must be something we’re missing…”

There really was something that they were missing.  A chess game was hardly a worthwhile obstacle.  There had to be a “shitty twist”, as Mrs. Davis would have referred to it.

“I’ve got it!”  Tracey exclaimed.  “We have to substitute ourselves for some of the pieces on the board!”

Oh.  Yes, that would indeed be a “shitty twist”.  Daphne mentlly reaffirmed that they were doomed as Tracey explained her “reasoning”, if it could be called that.

“Obviously, it’s some sort of trial.  It requires some measure of personal risk that a regular game of chess wouldn’t offer.”  Tracey said.  “It also alters the rules of play, as one has to protect their own piece in addition to the king.”

The reasoning was just twisted enough that Daphne was now certain that was how the chessboard had been designed.  She warily eyed the stone weapons wielded by the statues and desperately hoped Tracey was wrong.

Hermione looked over the pieces.  “Okay, um…  Tracey and Harry, you two play rooks.  They’re usually too valuable to sacrifice, as they’re the best pieces for checkmating.  I’ll play the… right-hand knight, and Daphne can play the queen.”

Daphne’s fears were confirmed as the mentioned pieces moved off of the board.  They were in so much trouble…

Harry and Tracey took their places without complaint.  Daphne grabbed Hermione’s shoulder as she started to move and turned her around so they were facing each other.

"Be honest with me.  Do you really know what you're doing?"

Hermione just gave a sort of helpless shrug in response.

"Don't worry, Daph!"  Tracey shouted from her position.  "I've got a fool-proof plan we can fall back on if things go wrong!"

They were so very doomed.

As Daphne and Hermione took their places, the game began, with the opposing side making the first move.  Daphne watched with apprehension as the pawn moved forward.  And thus, the game began.

It quickly became clear that Hermione was a very defensive player.  She was definitely a better player than anyone else with them, but she played so defensively that nothing happened for several turns until she finally slipped up.

The opposing bishop cleaved through the stone of their side's pawn.  Daphne winced.  That was brutal even by the standard of Magical Chess.

"What was that!?"  Hermione shrieked.  "A piece is just destroyed when it's captured!?"

"Does Muggle chess not work that way?"  Tracey asked.  "That seems rather boring.  The destruction is what makes it fun!"

"I don't know…"  Harry added.  "That's about how my cousin played the game the one time he got a chess set."

"That's barbaric!"  Hermione exclaimed.

"That's Magical Chess for you, Hermione."  Daphne said in resignation.

"I was referring to Harry's cousin being barbaric, actually…"

Harry laughed.  "That's definitely true."

"Just make sure we don't find ourselves on the wrong end of those weapons."  Daphne said.  "I'd like to make it out of here in one piece.  Literally."

Hermione gave a solemn nod.  “Okay, so let’s see here.  I can attack that piece, but if I do…”

Daphne didn’t really follow the game that well as it continued.  She knew that experienced players were able to plan things several moves ahead, but she had never really been able to grasp how to do that herself.  It was hard enough even being able to keep track of the game when she was able to look at it from above.  The state of the game was downright inscrutable from this angle.

She was pretty sure the game wasn't in their favour, if the expression on Hermione's face was anything to go by.

Their side was down to the four of them, their king, a bishop, and two pawns.  The opposing side had an additional bishop at the expense of a knight, and they had claimed a second queen by crossing the board — a move that Daphne hadn't even known was possible until it happened.

Hermione was currently observing the board with a pensive frown.

"Crud."  She said quietly.  "We're three turns away from being checkmated unless one of us is sacrificed."

"That means that it's time for Plan B!"  Tracey shouted.  "Just follow my lead!"

Daphne watched with resigned exasperation as Tracey moved across the board so that one of the opposing queens was positioned between herself and the opposing king.  She wasn't really about to sacrifice herself… was she?

"Tracey, don't do it!"  Harry yelled.  "Winning the game isn't worth getting maimed!"

An arrogant grin spread across Tracey's face.  "Who said anything about getting maimed?"  She said as the white queen turned towards her.  "I did say that I have a plan, and getting maimed is not a part of it!"

Tracey's wand ejected itself into her hand from her holster.  A quick twirl and a shouted " Flipendo! " sent the queen sliding backwards into the king, shattering them both.

"And that's how you win a game of magical chess!"  Tracey said triumphantly.  "By using magic!"

The remaining pieces on both sides evidently objected to Tracey's strategy, as they all drew their weapons and prepared to attack.

“Now this is chess!”  Tracey cheered as she began dodging the pieces’ weapons.  “Why can’t all board games be this exciting!?”

Daphne would have liked to give a sarcastic answer, but at the moment, she was too busy trying not to get split open by the other queen that was on the board when Tracey — once again — decided to forego all subtlety.  Daphne kept trying to let off some knockback jinxes at the queen, but it seemed to expect that move after Tracey’s stunt, and kept grounding itself when the spell hit.  It was also too good at keeping herself in close quarters to Daphne for her to put some much needed distance between them.  One swing of the queen’s massive broadsword came far too close for comfort, and she could feel a faint buzz of magic as the blade passed near her.

It was bad enough that these weapons were heavy and sharp, but they were also enchanted!?

She wasn’t about to take any more chances.  Daphne ducked under the queen’s next swing and thrust her wand at the ground and yelled “ Cascado glaciallus! ”  Large spikes of frigid ice shot up from the ground in a wave in front of her.  Most of the ice shattered harmlessly as it shot up against the queen’s arms, but her lower half was entombed in frost.   Daphne took the chance to get some distance between them before letting off a knockback jinx at the queen’s exposed torso.  The now brittle stone shattered easily under the force of her spell.

Her nearest foe dispatched, Daphne ran over to Harry and Hermione, who had the good fortune to be near each other when Tracey pulled her little stunt.  The two had formed a surprisingly tight formation near the edge of the room, with Harry focusing on keeping the pieces at a distance while Hermione wailed on them with every damaging spell she knew.

Daphne did not know a lot of combat magic.  The closest that she came was knowing an uncanny amount of ice and frost spells, not that most of those were of any value here.  The Glacial Cascade was the only one she knew that actually created ice , as opposed to just cold, and it was absolutely exhausting to cast at her age.  She doubted she could use it more than three times and still be able to maintain consciousness.  If she had some sort of water, then maybe she could freeze it, but…

“I don’t suppose either of you know the water conjuring charm?”  She asked them.

Hermione just shook her head as she flung another cutting hex at a statue’s arm, which finally fell off after taking several such blows.

“Isn’t that, like, sixth year material?”  Harry asked as he nailed an approaching pawn with a knockback jinx.  “We’ve studied ahead, but not that far ahead.”

“Y’all need water?”  Tracey asked as she slid past the sole intact bishop.  “I’ve got a canteen here.”

Of course Tracey brought the canteen her mother had given her for her birthday a few years back.  Mrs. Davis had gifted Tracey with a “survival kit”, and Daphne learned that when Mrs. Davis said “survival”, she really meant it.  Why anyone would need a tent that was warded to withstand nuclear blasts, Daphne had no idea.

“We need more water than that.  We’d need enough to cover the floor…”

Tracey grinned.  “Looks like I’ll have to spoil the surprise.  I was hoping to show you guys this later, but needs must.  Cover me for a moment.”

Daphne did her best not to get distracted by… whatever it was that Tracey was doing, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she spared a glance backwards.  Her jaw nearly dropped as she saw Tracey magically suspending a ball of water in the air with her wand.  The orb was far bigger than the amount that could be stored in the canteen, and looked to be getting bigger by the second.  Tracey’s face was contorted into an expression of total concentration.

Harry’s elbow jabbed her in the side.  “Focus, Daphne.”

She turned her attention back to the remaining pieces, all of which were battered, but many of which were unfortunately intact.

“Okay, I think that’s about as much as I can manage!”  Tracey grunted from behind them.  “On the statues, right?”

“Yes, just make sure it stays away from us!”  Daphne confirmed.  Oh, please let this work.  She was not prepared to keep going like this for however long it would take to deal with the rest of the pieces.

“Right, one water bomb coming up!  Watch out overhead!”

An absolutely massive bubble of water shot over their heads before bursting and showering most of the room.  The floor was covered in at least an inch of water, though Tracey was able to keep the floor around them dry, the waves of water magically stopping when they got too close.

Right, time to end this.  Daphne thrust her wand downward and shouted “ Cascado glaciallus! ”  The puddle covering the room flash-froze, the water acting as a conductor for the spell as large spikes of ice spread across the room like ripples in a pond.

“Shatter them!”  Harry shouted.  He and Hermione immediately started letting off knockback jinxes to take down the immobilised statues.  Daphne raised her wand to do the same, but was struck by a wave of dizziness before she could do anything.  She tried to blink the black spots out of her vision as she leaned against the wall.  Morgana, the wall was cold now.  Had her spell really been that thorough?

“You alright, Daph?”  Tracey asked from beside her.

Daphne nodded, but her slight loss of balance as she tried to stand up exposed her fib.  

"Easy there, Daph."  Tracey said as she helped Daphne keep her balance.  "Here, eat this."  She added, pulling out two bars from her pack.  

Tracey began eating hers as Daphne sniffed at it.  Well, it didn't seem to have anything she disliked, so she bit into it.  The taste was a little strange, but she couldn't deny the rejuvenation she felt flow through her body as the food hit her stomach.  "What is this?"

Tracey shrugged.  "Something my dad fixed up for my mom's use.  It's a calorie and protein dense food blend with some magical ingredients mixed in to help stave off the worst effects of magical exhaustion.  It's no miracle cure, and you'll still be a bit tired for a day or two, but you're not likely to pass out any time soon.  We'll just have to make sure not to overexert ourselves again, or we'll be in real trouble.  Hopefully, we're better prepared for the remaining challenges."

Daphne nodded as Harry shattered the last chess piece with a final Flipendo.  "How did you make all of that water?"

Tracey grinned.  "Alchemical replication.  I've been practicing it for a while, and I finally made some headway recently.  I can only do it with water, since it's a simple liquid, but I can do it!"

Daphne stared at her.  "When have you had time to do this without the rest of us noticing?"

"In the shower, of course!"

Daphne paused for a second as she took that in.  "Do you mean to tell me that all of the times you spent hours in the shower, it's because you were practicing alchemy on the water?"

Tracey nodded enthusiastically.  "Of course!  What else would I be doing in the shower?"

"Are you two alright?"  Harry asked as he brushed frozen rubble off of his robes.  "Whatever you guys did obviously took a lot out of you.  Where did you learn that ice spell, Daphne?"

"Fifth year battle charms textbook from the restricted section."

"You got a fifth year charm to work?"  Hermione asked jealously.

Daphne shook her head.  "Just the one, and I can only use it a few times before I exhaust myself.  You two probably know more spells than I do, but…"

"Daphne has an affinity for ice spells."  Tracey explained.  "She can learn them more easily than other spells.  And that's why I call her the Ice Queen."

"Don't. Call. Me. That."  Daphne hissed.

"Affinities?"  Hermione mouthed to Harry, who shrugged in response.

Daphne sighed.  "I'll have you two over this summer — my mother can give a better explanation of magical affinities than I can."

Harry nodded.  "Are we ready to move on, then?"

"Yup!"  Tracey said, jumping to her feet.  "C'mon, Daph, let's go!"

Daphne sighed and pushed herself up.  Tracey was going to be the death of her someday — she just knew it.

Draco took in the sights of the next room.  It took him a moment to realise what exactly it was, but once he saw the broom and connected it to the weird birds in the air, he couldn't keep the smile off of his face.

Oh, this was perfect .  It was as if whoever designed this test made it with the express purpose of helping him stop Potter.

"Stand back you two."  He told Neville and Ernie.  "It's time for the youngest seeker of the century to save the day."

Ernie shook his head.  Clearly, he couldn’t believe the tremendous luck that was on their side.  After all, not many people would be so fortunate as to have the youngest seeker of the century on their team for a flying challenge.

As Draco took to the air, he realised that there was a slight problem.  “How in the bloody hell am I supposed to figure out which key to catch!?”

Neville moved towards the door and examined it a bit.  “Look for a key that matches the lock.  Something large and bulky, probably silver.”

Draco’s eyes scanned the air.  He was used to looking for gold, but silver wasn’t too far off…

“I found it.”  He said as he spotted a large silver key flying around the room’s pillars.  It gave him a good chase, constantly ducking and bobbing as if it knew he was trying to catch it.  Luckily for him, he had plenty of experience dealing with such movements during quidditch games.  Unluckily, he had little experience dodging around support beams while chasing a snitch, so what should have only taken him a minute ended up taking closer to ten.  Luckily, Draco, The Youngest-Seeker-of-the-Century™, had earned his title and was able to catch the key in the end.  It squirmed helplessly in his hand after he grasped it, trying to free itself to no avail.

“Good show, Draco.”  Neville said as Draco landed back on the ground, key still in hand.

“But of course.”  Draco replied, preening under the praise.  “Of course, I could have gotten it done sooner if it hadn’t relied so heavily on the columns and beams for cover, but I got it in the end, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did.”  Ernie said as he grabbed the key and turned it in the lock.  The door swung open silently and the key freed itself, returning to the air.  “Alright, well that’s that.  I hope the next challenge isn’t too hard.”

“I’ll be fine with anything so long as it doesn’t try and strangle us.  Really, that devil’s snare has no place being in a school.”

“I told you that it was just scared!”  Neville said forcefully.  “I mean, really, if you just acted natural and respected it’s boundaries, none of the trouble you two were in would have happened!  It just goes to show that all you have to do is-”

“Great job, Draco.”  Ernie whispered in his ear.  “You’ve set him off.  Let’s get moving and hope the next room will distract him long enough to make him forget what he was going on about.”

“Ready?”  Tracey asked as she grabbed the handle to the next room.

Harry nodded.  He could feel the thrum of power in his wand from the recently absorbed blood.

“If the smell coming through the door is anything to go by, then this room most likely houses the troll.”  Tracey explained.  “So we want to hit it hard and fast.  A blood Lumos should blind it long enough for us to hit it with some simultaneous tripping jinxes.  From there, we’ll make a break for it.  Hopefully, the room should be small enough for us to get through before it recovers.  If not, fall back on Impedimentors before letting loose some more tripping jinxes.  Alright?”

Hermione and Daphne nodded.

“Right, then let’s do this.”

Tracey slammed the door open, and Harry ran inside and shut his eyes before yelling “ Lumos !”

He didn’t hear anything aside from the high pitched hum of his spell.   He expected the troll to groan in pain or maybe stumble, but the troll didn’t seem to be making any noise at all.

When the light dimmed down to reasonable levels, Harry opened his eyes and let his vision adjust.  He could see something large crumpled up against one of the walls.  He slowly stepped towards it until he could make it out.

“It’s already unconscious.”  He shouted back to the others.  “Quirrell must have gotten it before us.”

“Are you kidding me?”  Tracey said with a pout.  “We spend all of this time preparing to fight the troll and we don’t even have to do anything!”

“I’m not about to complain.”  Hermione said from the back.  “It was bad enough having to run from a troll on Halloween.  I’m fine with this turn of events.”

“You have no sense of adventure, Hermione.”  Tracey chided.

“Believe me, Tracey, fighting my way out of losing a chess game gave me my fill of adventure for the year.”  Hermione deadpanned.

“And just imagine all of the excitement that’s yet to come!”  Tracey said as she grabbed Hermione by the shoulder.  “You’ll go beyond having a mere fill of adventure and be positively sated.  Imagine.  The thrills will never end.  Ever .”

“Tracey, stop trying to freak Hermione out and let’s get a move on.”  Daphne said as she turned towards the door.  Harry couldn’t make out what she mumbled to herself afterwards, but he did catch the word “immature” being said more than once.

Ernie did his best to tune out Neville’s ongoing rant about “misunderstood plants” and focused on the door ahead of them.  He pushed it open and shivered as the cold of the next room washed over him.  “Merlin, it’s cold in here.  Think that’s related to the challenge?”

“It’s chess.”  Draco remarked.  “What does cold have to do with chess?”

“Maybe it’s the charms needed to animate a set this big?”  Neville proposed.  “I mean, most magic chess sets are small.  Maybe they need to be kept cool to work properly at this size?”

“They wouldn’t need to be kept this cold.”  Ernie explained.  “Look at all of the ice everywhere.”  He’d never heard of any charms that required this level of cooling, let alone something as mundane as chess.

“I bet it was Potter!”  Draco said passionately.  “He probably froze the chess set solid so he wouldn’t have to play.  Clearly, he’s even more dangerous than we realised.”

Ernie successfully resisted the urge to facepalm.  “Draco, even if Harry Potter is the ‘boy-who-lived’, he’s still just a first year student.  A bookish and talented first year, but still a first year.”

Draco scowled.  “That’s just what he wants you to think.  He lures everyone into a false sense of security by pretending to be a normal student, then he unleashes his boy-who-lived powers and cuts down all of his opponents before they realise what’s wrong.   It’s become more important than ever that we stop him before it’s too late.”

Well, somebody had been reading far too many boy-who-lived adventure books.  Ernie made a mental note of that fact in case he ever had to blackmail Draco out of doing something extremely stupid — something he was certain that he would have to do at some point.

Still, he didn’t want to waste anymore time listening to Draco’s fantasies.  “Alright, come on, let’s play.  Which pieces should we each play as?”

“What?”  Neville and Draco said in unison.

“Well, it’s obvious, innit?  The chessboard is large — large enough that a person could take the place of one of the statues.  Every challenge so far has had a twist to it, and simply being able to play the game isn’t really enough.  Obviously, we each have to play as one of the pieces.”

Given the slightly skeptical look that Draco was giving him, he supposed it wasn’t as obvious as he’d first assumed.  Really, Draco read Boy-who-lived adventure novels, but he’d never read Gilderoy Lockhart’s Cracking Puzzles and Plundering Tombs — Riddles are Best Solved Quickly ?  Substituting oneself for a game piece was a classic gauntlet challenge according to that book!

“Look, even if you don’t believe me about it, would you at least believe Gilderoy Lockhart?  I learned this from one of his books, after all.”

Draco’s skepticism lessened, but Neville’s eyes widened a bit.  “This isn’t dangerous, is it?  I mean, Gilderoy Lockhart fights monsters and does all sorts of curse breaking.  We’re just kids.”

Ernie was about to assuage Neville’s fears when Draco jumped in.  “Of course it’s dangerous, but that doesn’t mean we won’t do it.  We have to stop Potter from getting the Philosopher’s Stone, or there’s no telling what sorts of things he could do with its power under his control!”

Surprisingly, that seemed to do it.  Neville nodded resolutely.  “Right, because we’re Gryffindors.”

Draco’s expression contorted into one of disgust, but he nodded.

“Right then…”  Ernie looked at the chess set.  “I’ll take the queenside rook.  Neville, you take the kingside knight, and Draco, you-”

“Will also be a knight.”  He interrupted in his haughtiest tone.

Ernie was about to point out the difficulty of keeping both knights alive versus keeping other pieces alive, but the corresponding pieces had already moved off the board once Draco made his choice.  He sighed.  “Right, you’ll also be a knight.  Okay, places everyone.”

They all stepped onto their spaces on the board, trying not to slip on the ice.

“You there,”  Ernie said, pointing at a pawn.  “Move to E5.”

The pawn moved two spaces forward… and then kept moving forward as it slipped on the ice, until it crashed into the opposing pawn on the opposite side of the board.

“Um…”

One of the opposing pawns moved to attack it, but it also slipped and knocked both pieces out of play.

Ernie sighed.  He had a feeling that this was going to be a very annoying match.

Tracey cast the last of her detection charms, trying not to show the strain she was putting herself under in doing so.  These detection charms were third year material at the earliest, and she was still feeling the exhaustion from the alchemical replication stunt she pulled in the chess room.  Much as she was embarrassed to admit it, she just didn’t have the same kind of power to throw around that the others did.

Then again, neither did her mom, and that didn’t stop her from becoming one of the most coolest people ever .

Still, she definitely hoped they’d be done soon, as she didn’t think she could use those charms more than one or two more times before she passed out.  Hell, she probably would have passed out by now if her dad hadn’t sent her those snack bars when she told him that she was doing a heist.  He was very insistent that if she was going to do something like that, then she should be as prepared as possible.

The next room was much smaller than any of the others so far.  The moment that they all stepped through the doorway, bright violet fire roared to life behind them, while deep black fire blocked the way forward.

Seven bottles sat in a row on a table, with a piece of parchment laying in front of them.

“Seems this is Snape’s room.”  She remarked.  Dear Morgana, she was tired.  She opened up her bag and pulled out a small thermos full of tea and began drinking.

As Tracey let the Lady Grey tea rejuvenate her, Hermione picked up the parchment and looked it over.  “It’s a riddle.”  She explained.  “That’s got to be the best defence so far.  I mean, most wizards don’t have an ounce of logic.”

“Normally, I’d object to a generalisation like that, but in this case, you’re correct.”  Daphne remarked.  “Now then, let’s take a look at that riddle…”

Tracey sighed as she finished the last of the tea.  That ought to help her with the physical aspect of her exhaustion, at least.

As Hermione and Daphne continued to murmur over the riddle, Tracey sidled up to Harry.  “Isn’t this fun!?”  She asked excitedly.

She saw a slight smile appear on Harry’s face before he schooled his expression.  “Yeah, this has been the most interesting thing we’ve done all year.  I’m almost disappointed that the troll was already taken care of — dealing with it would have been a fun challenge.”

Tracey laughed.  Oh, Harry was awesome.  Befriending him was the best choice she had made this year.  “I appreciate the sentiment, but Daph and I are still a bit worn out from what we did back in the chess room.  I don’t think we would have been up for fighting the troll.”  Her especially, though she’d never admit that out loud.  She was too prideful to openly admit her shortcomings.

Morgana, she really was tired, wasn’t she?  She was normally way better about avoiding introspection.

Well, at least the tea stopped her from yawning every half minute.

“So, we’re close to the end, right?  I mean, of the challenges we’ve completed, we’ve worked through Hagrid’s, Sprout’s, McGonagall’s, Flitwick’s, and Quirrell’s.  This one is obviously Snape’s, and that should be all of them, right?  None of the elective teachers have had a room so far, so there probably aren’t any.  The only one after this is Sinistra, and that’s assuming she has a room in the first place.”

Tracey sighed and patted Harry on the back.  “Harry, Harry, Harry, you’re forgetting the most important challenge of them all — Dumbledore’s.  There’s no way Dumbledore would go through all of this trouble and not add a challenge of his own, especially when it came to defending an artefact as valuable as the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Harry looked abashed for a moment before schooling his expression again.  “Ah, yeah, that’s true.”

His ability to suppress any displays of his emotion was impressive, even if it came about through depressing means.  Tracey wondered if her mom would kill his relatives if she asked?  Probably not.  Her mom was very insistent that killing someone’s annoying relatives was best reserved as a courtship present, not something done among friends.  She didn’t want to give Harry mixed signals at such a young age, after all.

Maybe in a few years…

“I still can’t believe that they’re keeping a powerful magical artefact like that stored in a school…”  Harry muttered.

Tracey shrugged.  “I mean, it’s a bit weird, but there’s always strange stuff going down in magic schools.  Dad sometimes tells me about all of the crazy adventures that he and his friends got up to when they were at Hogwarts.  Mom went to school in the States and she also has similar stories about the mischief and adventures she and her friends got up to.  It’s just a universal fact of life that strange things always go down in magic schools.”

“So this kind of stuff is normal?”  Harry asked.

“More or less, though it can be hard to say what will happen from one year to the next.  Some of the upperclassmen told me that, a few years ago, someone started a rumour about Hogwarts having ‘cursed vaults’.  It was utter nonsense, but sent most of the school on some crazy scavenger hunt to find these nonexistent vaults.  I even heard that-”

“Got it.”  Daphne said, interrupting her.  Daphne held up the smallest bottle.  “This potion is used to move forward through the black flames, while this bottle,” she picked up the round bottle on the end, “is used to move backwards through the purple flames.”

“There’s not a lot of potion in the small one.”  Hermione observed.  “It looks like there’s only enough for a single dose.”

“It obviously refills.  Consider that we still haven’t run into Quirrell, which means he must be ahead of us, as he left his harp in the cerberus room.  That means that Quirrell made it past this challenge, yet the bottle is full.  Therefore, the bottle refills.”

Hermione nodded slowly.  “That does make sense.”

Harry picked up the bottle.  “Well, bottoms up.”

Tracey snatched it from his hands before he could open it.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.  What the hell do you think you’re doing!?  Have you forgotten Potions Safety 101!?”

“According to Professor Snape, Potions Safety 101 is ‘don’t be a dunderhead’.”  Daphne said in her best imitation of Snape’s dour tone.

Tracey snickered, but immediately pushed the feeling to the back of her brain.  No, this was serious!  Serious, serious stuff!  There would be time to giggle about Daphne’s impression later!  “The first rule of dealing with potions is ‘don’t drink something you can’t identify unless it was given to you by a licensed medical professional or a licensed potions master’.  This potion was just lying on a table in the middle of a deadly gauntlet.”

“But the riddle said-”  Hermione tried to reason before Tracey cut her off.

“Bollocks to the riddle!  I’m sure you solved it correctly, but what if it was trapped!?  What if Quirrell switched the bottles around to throw off pursuers!?  No, we are going to be sensible and identify this stuff before we use it.”

Tracey pulled out her various identification tools from her survival kit.  Okay, so the first thing she should do was a general poison check…  A few drops on the testing parchment and that test came up negative, so there were no dedicated poisons.  She’d still have to rule out other forms of toxicity, but dedicated poisons were the most dangerous.

Hmm… extremely low viscosity, that ruled out a large number of harmful interactive poisons…  No odour, that ruled out a lot of medical and cosmetic potions…  

Tracey held up the potion to get a better look at its colour — cyan and turquoise were similar but could indicate different things — and was surprised to find that the bottle was wet.  She looked down at the slowly spreading puddle beneath where she’d put the open bottle.

Superfluidity, huh?  Well that really narrowed it down.  Less than fifty known potions were superfluids, and if she cross referenced that against its colour index…

She was pretty sure she knew what this was, but she pulled out her reference text just to be sure.  Cyan, superfluid, nonpoisonous, which meant…

“It’s flame-freezing draught.”  She told the others.

Daphne blinked.  “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope, it’s the only thing that matches the criteria.  It’s definitely flame-freezing draught.”

Daphne spun around and pointed her wand at the black flames.  “ Ignis Frigidum! ”

The spell impacted the wall of fire, dispersing into it.  Daphne held her breath and stuck her hand into the flames, sighing in relief when nothing happened.

“I can’t believe it was that simple.”  She said with audible exasperation.  “Come on, let’s go before my spell wears off.”

Tracey shrugged and packed up her things, placing the potion on the table with the others before stepping through the flames and into the — hopefully — final room.

Neville shivered in the cold chess room as Ernie checkmated the opposing king.  Or rather, he did something close enough to a checkmate that the game was considered won in his favour.  He was pretty sure that chessboards weren’t designed to work when covered in ice.

“Great job on the checkmate, Ernie.”  Draco said, clapping the other boy on the back.  “That was a brilliant way to use the terrain to your advantage.”

Ernie nodded resolutely.  “Yes, that’s exactly what I was attempting to do.”

“Well, it was absolutely brilliant — putting you in charge of the chess set was my best idea yet.”

Ernie blushed under the praise while Neville wondered just how sarcasm-blind Draco was.

“Now then, let’s see what this next room has to offer.”  Draco said as he slammed the door open, only for all three to step back when the smell hit them.

“Dear Merlin, what is that?”  Ernie asked as he pinched his nose.

“It smells like stinksap mixed with rotting flesh.”  Neville said.  It was a combination of smells he was very familiar with from his work in the greenhouses, as they were both used in certain fertilizers.

“It smells like a troll…”  Ernie said faintly, his eyes locked on the shadows in the room ahead.

Well that was very specific.  Sure, trolls were supposed to smell bad, but when would any of them have had a chance to know what one smelled like?

Draco followed Ernie’s gaze.  “It is a troll.”  

Wait, really?  “How in Merlin’s name are we supposed to get past a troll?  For that matter, how did Potter get past the troll?  What if it ate him!?”  Neville rambled.

Draco rolled his eyes.  “I think it would be pretty hard for the troll to eat him given that it’s unconscious.”

His eyes widened.  “They actually managed to knock out a troll?  How?”

“Dark magic.”  Draco snarled.  “Trolls are immune to all but the strongest magic, which he clearly used here.  Come on, let’s get a move on before the troll wakes up.”

Neville was beginning to suspect that Draco read too many Boy-Who-Lived adventure books.  He knew that none of the things in those books were real, right?

Violet flames burst into life behind him as soon as he entered the next room, nearly singeing his robes.  “What was that?”

“It’s the challenge for this room.”  Ernie said as he picked up a parchment that was lying on the room’s only feature — a large table with seven bottles.  “It looks to be a riddle of some sort.  One of these bottles has a potion that will let us move ahead while the other has a potion that will let us go back.  The rest are filled with poison or wine.”

“So we just have to solve a riddle to move ahead?”  Draco asked.  “This’ll be easy!”

Ernie nodded.  “Okay, so, those two are the same, and then…  But that means…  And then those aren’t poison…  but then…  Hmmm…”

Neville wondered if they might be here for a while.

While every room thus far had been connected either directly or with a hallway, the exit from the potions room led to a descending staircase.  The change in architecture led Hermione to believe that this was, in fact, the final room of the gauntlet.  

The room itself was lit with a pervasive, warm light — a drastic contrast to the earlier rooms and corridors that were illuminated sparsely with blue light.  The room was circular, with concentric steps leading down to a flat centre.  Eight columns circled the room, each placed halfway down the steps.  At the bottom of the steps, in the dead centre of the room, sat a gorgeous, gilded mirror.  Hermione didn't recognise it, but given the way that Harry tensed at the sight, she assumed it was the mirror that he and Tracey had encountered over the holidays.  She never was able to figure out what the mirror did, as Harry simply described it as "terrible", while Tracey described it as "amazing".

None of that mattered at the moment, though.  Before they deciphered the mirror's puzzle, they had to deal with their adversary — who was gazing intently into the mirror.  Quirrell didn’t even bother to turn around as he addressed them, looking over their reflections in the mirror instead.

“I wondered if you lot would show up to try and stop me.”  He remarked.  “Though I’m surprised to see that all four of you made it.  Snape’s potion riddle didn’t slow you down?”

“The correct potion was a flame-freezing draught.”  Daphne said slowly.  “I just applied the charm to the fire and we all passed through.”

Quirrell scoffed.  “That’s just like Severus, isn’t it?  He sets up some sort of complicated task to weed out anyone without a brain, even though the actual solution is simple enough that a fourth year could do it.”  He turned around to face them.  “Or four first years, in this case.  So, you’re here to stop me?”

Tracey nodded, her face set in a determined grimace.  “We can’t let you steal the Philosopher’s Stone.”

Quirrell’s mouth turned upward into a smug smirk.  “How righteous of you.”

“Because we’ll be stealing it for ourselves!”

He froze, stunned, before he burst out in laughter.  This continued for almost a minute before he managed to regain his composure.  “You must excuse me — I wasn’t at all prepared for that answer.  Here I was expecting that you were here on some noble crusade to stop me, when in fact we are only rivals because we both desire the same thing!  The irony is quite delicious.”

Tracey stepped forward.  “It’s over, Quirrell!  We have the high ground!  Also, you’re dying and we outnumber you four to one!”

Quirrell laughed again, though this time it was more of a dry, sardonic chuckle.  “Believe me, my oncoming demise is not as much of a hindrance as you might suspect.”  Hermione watched in equal parts awe and horror as his eyes flashed red and lightning crackled around his body.

“Is that normal?”  Harry whispered to her.

Hermione shook her head numbly.  That was most definitely not normal.  Even Daphne seemed shocked.

“Now then, let’s parlay.”  Quirrell said calmly, only for him to spring into action with speed that belied his appearance.  His wand was in his hand faster than Hermione had thought possible, and two enormous blue fireballs came screaming at them.  She and Harry were the fastest to react, pushing Tracey and Daphne to the sides as the spells passed over them.  Harry was the first to recover, pushing himself off of Daphne and casting a smokescreen charm to give them cover.  That move likely saved Hermione’s life, as a fire whip grazed less than a foot from her just after the smokescreen covered the area.  Tracey finally seemed to have snapped into gear, pulling Hermione back as one of the pillars fell where she had just been.

The two of them quickly made use of the toppled pillar as cover.  “Well, this is looking to be more complicated than I anticipated.”  Tracey said far too calmly.

“No shit.”  Hermione deadpanned.

“Any suggestions for how to deal with this?”

“Strike a killing blow before he has a chance to realise what’s going on.”  Really, how was that not the obvious course of action?  “We need to hit him hard .  I don’t suppose you can pull off another stunt like the one you did in the chess room?”

Tracey scratched the back of her head.  “Yeah, that won’t be happening again anytime soon.  Even if I was up to it, I used up all my water back there, and I doubt I’d be able to take him by surprise.  He’d see a move like that coming from a mile away.”

“Great.”  Hermione said, tone dripping with sarcasm.  “Well, unless you happen to have any high yield explosives on you, then I’m out of ideas.”

Tracey perked up.  That was ominous.  “Explosives?  Yeah, My mom put some of those in my survival kit.  I’ve never used them before, so can you cover me while I get them set up?  I need to make sure I do this right.”

“Why do you…?  You know what, I don’t want to know.  Just get it done.”  Hermione turned around and glanced out from behind the pillar.  It was impossible to see anything through the smokescreen, but Quirrell’s attention seemed to be focused elsewhere.  Hermione moved slowly, and was surprised when the smokescreen suddenly let up.

Quirrell had used some sort of wind charm to create a clearing where he was relentlessly hammering Harry and Daphne with spells.  For his part, Harry was doing a surprisingly good job defending himself from the onslaught, levitating chunks of a destroyed pillar to intercept the spells.  Unfortunately, this was keeping him purely on the defensive, with no windows for him to retaliate.  Daphne was doing her best to stay offensive, but she was nowhere near as fast at casting as she and Harry were.  Hermione made her move to give them some additional cover.

She could have cast another smokescreen charm, but Quirrell still had a wind barrier up, so it would be quickly dispelled around him.

So instead, she fought fire with fire — or, as this case would have it, wind with wind.

She’d never attempted to cast this charm before, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her.

“ Ventus! ”  She shouted as she moved her wand in the flowy shape described by the book.

It was slow, but the wind around her did begin to pick up.   Tendrils of smoke began to creep out of the cloud towards Quirrell, which drew his attention to her long enough for Harry to get in a shot.

“ Imflammare! ”  A stream of liquid fire shot out of Harry’s wand, engulfing Quirrell for a moment, only for the flames to splash away harmlessly a moment later.  His robes looked a bit singed, but Quirrell seemed to emerge from the fire no worse for wear than he was when he started.

Dammit, what did they have to do to hurt this guy?

Daphne wasn’t idle during this time, though, and closed the distance between her and Quirrell as quickly as she could.  Another cast of the Glacial Cascade spell had his legs encased in ice and one spike piercing through his left forearm.

Hermione mentally cursed again.  If that spike had hit his wand arm, then it might have at least crippled him long enough for them to gain the upper hand.  At least they had him stuck for the time being.  Hermione cast every agitating curse she knew — boils, dancing, impeding, tripping, jelly legs, leg lockers, and several stinging jinxes for good measure.  As she did that, Harry levitated a chunk of pillar in front of him and launched it at Quirrell with a well aimed Flipendo .  Daphne followed up her glacial cascade with several weaker freezing charms — not enough to freeze him further, but definitely enough to induce minor hypothermia through sheer quantity.

Somehow, Quirrell was still alive even after taking an ice spike to the arm, a boulder to the head, several freezing charms to his torso, and enough minor jinxes to cripple a normal person.

Something was really, really wrong with Quirrell.  How had no one noticed it before now?

“Everyone take cover on me!”  Tracey shouted from behind the intact pillar.  “Plastic is prepped!”

Harry grabbed Daphne’s arm and pulled her along, as Daphne seemed a bit too dazed to react as quickly as needed.  As Hermione was taking cover, what Tracey said finally caught up to her.  Plastic?   When she asked about explosives, she was expecting some sort of potion or magical compound!  Not a Merlin-be-damned C-4 charge!

Tracey lobbed the charge over the pillar, detonator wire trailing behind it.  She looked around to make sure that everyone was as safe as they could get before grabbing the detonator and pushing the lever down.

Chunks of stone and rubble fell over them as the mirror — which was still intact despite the explosion — flew over their heads and crashed loudly into the wall nearest to them.

“Well, if that didn’t do him in, then I don’t know what will.”  Tracey commented.

“ Good .”  Quirrell’s voice snarled from the other side of the pillar.

Oh no.  How!?

The pillar they were using as cover lifted off the ground and was flung to the far side of the room.  Standing where it used to be was a much worse-for-wear Quirrell.  Most of his robes had been burned through, and his turban was gone completely.  His body was covered in fresh, bloody burns, and his eyes were filled with a crazed madness.

“How?”  Hermione asked.  “How are you still alive? ”

“Lord Voldemort teaches many secrets to those who serve him loyally.  I was taught a great many things in exchange for my efforts to secure the Philosopher’s Stone so that he may be born anew.”

“Voldemort is dead.”  Harry said quietly.

“I am not dead, for I cannot truly die.”  A new, raspy voice said from the same place as Quirrell.  “Did you truly think I was stopped all those years ago?  No, I was merely inconvenienced, and now, all these years later, I have my chance for both resurrection and revenge in the same place.  Kill them all, starting with the boy.”

Hermione raised her wand in Harry’s defence, but a single twitch of Quirrell’s wand sent all of them flying backward through the air.  She had just enough time to see Daphne get thrown against a pillar and Tracey get thrown down the steps before her head impacted against the stone wall with a loud crack, knocking her unconscious.

Draco was resisting the urge to bash his head against the wall as Ernie struggled with the Riddle.

“Okay, and then if those two aren’t poison, then that means…  But that means that one can’t be…  Dammit, I have to start over.”

Draco only barely resisted the urge to scream.  Didn’t they understand that Potter was probably obtaining the Stone as they spoke!?  At this rate, they’d be too late!

He was only saved from bashing his head against the wall again by the sudden explosion that rocked the room.

“What was that?”  Neville asked.  “What blew up?”

“Potter.”  Draco said quietly.  “He’s unleashing his full power to try and obtain the stone.  We have to hurry, Ernie!”

Ernie nodded and turned back to the puzzle.  “Right.  So… those two… are the same, and that one’s not poison…  So that means that they’re either…”

Draco did scream that time.

Tracey ached horribly.  She’d really hit those stairs hard when Quirrell did that area banisher on them.  She glanced around the room, trying to take stock of their situation.  Hermione was definitely unconscious, since she apparently hit the wall hard enough to leave a bloodstain on the stone.  Daphne was also unconscious, as she was flopped inelegantly on the stairs, and there was no way she’d ever be so inelegant when she was awake.  Harry was in the same location he was before — apparently Quirrell’s banishing charm didn’t affect him — but he was also clearly under the effect of a body bind, as Quirrell was standing there gloating at him.

Okay, so that left Tracey as the only person who was capable of taking action against their clearly superhuman teacher.  Those were definitely not ideal odds, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her.

Daphne and Hermione were too far from her to rennervate, so whatever she had to do she had to do alone and without attracting any attention from Quirrell.  Quirrell, whom she was now noticing had a second face on the back of his head — one that most likely belonged to Voldemort, if the earlier comments were to be believed — and therefore had a much wider range of viewing than normal.

Bollocks.

She was really out of options here.

If only she had a gun, then she might be able to get in a good shot, but her mom was very insistent that she not carry firearms on her until she was at least fourteen and properly trained in their use.

The only thing she could think of in her survival kit that would help her was her hunting knife, and there was no way she could get close enough to Quirrell to use it without him spotting her.  She could throw it, but she was completely untrained in knife throwing, let alone knife throwing when pretending to be unconscious.  Her C-4 was the only thing she could use at a range, and she’d used all of it trying to kill Quirrell in one go.

She scanned the room for anything else that could be useful.  There was lots of rubble, but Harry had established that sending rubble flying at Quirrell didn’t seem to do any lasting harm.  Aside from that, the only thing left in the room was…

Wait…  That could actually work.  With that positioning and that angle, if she cast at the exact right moment…

Tracey did her best to focus on what Quirrell was saying through the ringing in her ears.  

“…hope it was all worth it.  I believe it’s time we said goodbye, Harry Potter.  I won’t miss you.  Now then, let’s see if you survive this a second time.  Avada… ”

Now!  Tracey flicked her wand and whispered “ Trin .”  A pale grey bolt shot at Harry just as Quirrell finished his spell.

“ …Kedavra !”

Tracey’s spell hit first, the tripping jinx knocking him over and out of the path of Quirrell’s curse.  Quirrell whirled around to face her just as the killing curse struck the mirror that now sat on the room’s edge.  The spell diffused as it hit the mirror, making the entire thing glow green before the curse was reflected back where it came from, striking Quirrell right in his back.  An unearthly scream echoed through the room as a mass of dark smoke ripped itself out of Quirrell’s body, only to flee after shooting Tracey a glare of absolute loathing.

Tracey stuck her tongue out at the fleeing smoke.  Serves him right!

Now then, time to do what they came here for…

Tracey glanced at Harry, who was still lying on the floor, rigid.  She released his body bind, but given the way his body fell limp, he had clearly fallen unconscious.  She considered rennervating him, but you weren’t supposed to do that to people who’d suffered head trauma.

Oh well, if she could get the stone, then she would be sure that they’d all be fine.  She’d just have to brew up some elixir of life, which, really, how hard could it be?

Tracey limped over to the mirror and stared at her reflection.  The image contained within was just as beautiful as it was last time, though it was less enrapturing to look at now.  The only other difference was that her reflection now held the Philosopher’s Stone as well as a taunting grin on her face.  She stared at her reflection for some time, trying to decipher the puzzle of how to retrieve the Stone from within.  She wasn’t sure how long she was at it before movement to her right caught her eye.  Dumbledore had just entered the room.  He took in the carnage with wide eyes, until his eyes fell on Tracey, the only conscious person in the room.  She decided to say the only thing she could think of in this set of circumstances.

“We did it, Professor!  We saved the day!”

Dumbledore's gaze swept across the room once more before he let out a very deep sigh.

Chapter Text

Returning to consciousness was more painful than Harry expected.  At first, the pain felt like it was everywhere, but as his senses returned to him, it localised on his wand arm and the left side of his head.  He groaned and slowly pushed himself upright as his eyes adjusted to the surprisingly bright room.  His glasses were easily found by fumbling around on the nearby table, which thankfully had a much needed glass of water.

The room was… clean?  There was a better word than clean, but he couldn’t think of it through the fog in his brain.  Despite being made of the typical… kinds of rocks that made up Hogwarts, the very essence of the room smelled clean, in a non-literal sense.  Each side of the room was lined with beds with retractable curtains separating them.  The upper half of each wall was lined with tall, frosted windows, letting lots of light in, but no details from outside.

“Wha’ happen…”  He mumbled, his voice coming out far more slurred than he would have expected.

“What happened is you suffered from a concussion and a minor skull fracture, in addition to severe bruising along most of your body!”  The… Harry didn’t know her name or title.  She was the witch who ran the hospital wing — that was all he knew about her.

Harry tried to piece the memories together, but everything was jumbled.  He remembered fighting, an explosion, and… chess?

“Your injuries are healing well, at least.  Concussions are tricky to treat, but you weren’t blasted into a wall, so you seem to be healing faster than the others.”

The others…? The others…!  “What happened to the others?”  He tried to ask, though it came out more as “Wha’ happen others?”

“Every one of you is badly bruised, though you and Miss Davis had bruises deep enough that they went down to your bones.  Miss Davis and Miss Greengrass were both suffering from magical exhaustion, which can only be treated with time.  Miss Greengrass suffered some spinal damage, and Miss Granger’s skull was actually cracked.”

Holy crap.  That… that was bad .  “They ‘kay?”  He slurred.

“Of course they’ll be fine.  I am a healer, after all, and I’m quite good at what I do, if I do say so myself.  This may be more extreme than the usual gauntlet of injuries I’m used to treating, but most students don’t end up in duels to the death with their defence professors.  I’m going to administer a sleeping charm now.  You still need rest.”

Harry tensed slightly as she pointed her wand at him, but he didn’t have any time to panic before the sleeping charm took him.

“I still say you should call the aurors over this, Albus.”  Minerva insisted.  “Quirinus is dead, and even if he was killed in self-defence, I’d still say that this warrants a proper investigation.  There are limits to what we can do without proper forensic specialists, you know.”

“And as I have told you every time you’ve brought this up, I will not see these children slandered or brought to the attention of the public for their role in this unfortunate affair.  Aurors may have a high professional integrity, but their lips can still be loose under the right circumstances… or for the right price.”

Minerva felt her lips thin.  Yes, Albus had a point — no child deserved to be dragged through the mud for murdering someone who, as all the evidence suggested, tried to kill them.  At the same time, she was certain that Madame Bones could make some exceptions in procedure for the sake of discretion, should she be asked.  Minerva was certain that there was more to this than that, though.

No, she was quite certain that this was just as much about discretion as it was about maintaining the sovereignty of Hogwarts.  Albus was not afraid to exercise said sovereignty whenever the situation allowed it — most likely as a holdover from the days when the Ministry was controlled by either Voldemort’s lackeys or those imperiused by said lackeys.  

Back then, the Ministry kept trying to use various legal means to assert greater power over Hogwarts, which led to Dumbledore using every trick in the book to keep them out.  It seemed that old habits died hard.

“Also, there is… one other thing.”  Albus said quietly.  “I’ve been doing an analysis of Quirinus’s body, and it seems that he may have been… possessed.”

Minerva froze.  Possession was extremely rare, as there were almost no beings capable of performing it.  It took a malevolent, powerful, and willful spirit to possess a person.  “Do you have any idea who…?”

She didn’t need to finish asking the question.  The answer was plain on Albus’s face.

“Dear gods…”  She muttered.

“It’s merely a suspicion at this point, but I believe it may have been him .”  Albus explained.  “And in the event that my suspicions are correct, then I cannot risk letting such information reach the ears of his followers.  If anyone asks, Quirinus Quirrell’s death was an accident, and none of those four first years had anything to do with it.  Alright?”

Minerva nodded slowly.  “I understand.  But still, to think that he left a ghost…”

“Not a ghost, I’m afraid.  Whatever this was was far more sinister than that.”

It was at that point that Minerva decided that it was in her best interest to not know anything more about Voldemort or his method of survival.

"I don't like it."  She said firmly.  "But I'll accept your verdict that the Ministry will be kept in the dark about the circumstances of Quirrell's death.  But, let me be clear that if this ends up backfiring on us, I will not let you live it down."

Albus gave her a gentle smile.  "Believe me, Minerva, if this does backfire on us, I don't think I'd deserve to live it down."

Minerva nodded and began moving towards the door.

"Can you go tell Severus that I need to speak with him?  He should be in his office around this time.  Also, given that our quartet of troublemakers are likely to be fully healed in a few hours, can you tell Poppy to make sure that they all head straight for my office once they've been cleared for release?"

Minerva didn't like being treated like an errand girl, but checking in on Poppy would be a good distraction from the horrors she'd just learned.  Moreover, Albus knew it would be a good distraction.

"I may as well."  She said as nonchalantly as she could manage.  "I've been meaning to get some tonics from her anyways."

"I'm sure you have."  Albus said genially.  "Go on, then."

Waking up the second time was much less disorienting than waking up the first time.  Harry was able to piece together a picture of what happened much more quickly, so he actually had an idea of where he was and why he was there.  His head felt much more clear, too.

“Um… Hello?”  He called out.  “Is anyone there?”  Well, his speech wasn’t slurred, so that was an improvement.

It didn’t take long for the… healer?  Harry was pretty sure she’d mentioned that she was a healer last time they’d spoken.  Regardless, it didn’t take long for her to show up.

“Ah, Mister Potter.  Awake early once again, I see?”  She said as she pulled back the curtains.

“Um…  Sorry?”  He really didn’t know how to reply to that.

“Oh, it’s no fault of yours, Mister Potter.  You’ve had some metabolic fluctuations that have made it tricky for me to properly calculate the dosage of sedatives to give you.”

Harry didn’t know what that meant.  Luckily, his lack of understanding didn’t seem to bother the healer in the slightest.

“Fortunately for you, though, you’re all healed.  Your concussion could have been treated much more quickly with a mind healer on premises, but Albus justifiably wants to keep this on the downlow.  Speaking of Albus, he wants the four of you to report to his office once you’re all awake.  Would you rather Minerva or Severus take you?”

“Oh, um…”  Well, he really didn’t know McGonagall very well outside of lessons.  Snape was a subpar teacher and strict disciplinarian, but he was extremely fair in his treatment of students.  “Snape, please.”

The healer nodded.  “Right then.  Expecto Patronum .”  Harry gaped as a silver lizard of some kind sprung from the end of her wand.  “Severus, you’re needed in the hospital wing.”

“Um, what was that?”  He asked.

“That was the Patronus charm.  It’s a form of defensive magic that can be used for long-distance communication with the right mindset.”

Harry knew then and there that he wanted to learn that spell more than anything.  The beauty alone would have made him want to learn it, but if it was also practical, then it was a much higher priority.

“Alright, Severus is going to be here momentarily.  In the meantime, I’m going to wake the others.  Would you like to come?”

He nodded eagerly.  Anything would be preferable to sitting around in a hospital bed, but it would be good to have assurance that the others were okay.  Harry practically leapt out of the bed, only to nearly fall over from getting up too quickly.

“Easy there, child.”  The healer said as she supported him.  “I’m sure you’re excited, but it won’t do you any good if you end up needing even more treatment.  I’d rather not treat you for another concussion so soon after the first.  Now then, follow me.”

Harry followed her several beds down the aisle until they came to one with all of the curtains around it drawn.  She pushed her way through the curtains and pulled out a parchment and quill which began writing on their own as she spoke.

“The patient is Tracey Melody Davis.  Of the four students which were delivered to me two days ago, she had suffered the least injuries.  Magical exhaustion does not require any medical treatment beyond rest, and the skeletal bruising only requires a small dose of skele-gro.  Normally, such minor injuries would not have warranted sedation at all, but the patient’s behaviour was… excessively rambunctious and nearly caused several incidents.  The patient has been fully healed for more than twelve hours at this point, but was kept sedated for convenience.  Commencing with the awakening procedure…”

The moment the spell hit her, Tracey bolted upright.  “Finally!  Being unconscious is sooooo boring!”

Harry didn’t know how to address that Tracey thought being unconscious was boring.  Neither did the healer, from the look on her face.

“Patient is showing no lingering signs from the sedative and has returned to her… usual demeanour.  End report.”

"Sweet!  Does this mean I'm free to go!?"  Tracey asked excitedly.

"Y-"

Tracey didn't even wait for the word "yes" to finish being spoken before she jumped out of bed, swung her survival kit over her shoulder, and nabbed her wand out of the healer’s pocket.  “Awesome!”  She exclaimed, instantly lighting a flame on the end of her wand in a show of magic.

The healer, for her part, did not approve.  “Put that out this instant!”

“This place is warded against fires.”  Tracey said confidently as she extinguished the flame and slipped her wand into her pocket.

The healer just glared at her.  “You know, I was skeptical that it was possible for the child of Melody Chambers and Anthony Davis to be worse than either of her parents, yet here you are.”

Tracey grinned as she gave a melodramatic bow.  “You flatter me, Madame Pomfrey.”

Well, at least Harry learned that the healer’s name was Madame Pomfrey.

Pomfrey muttered something about “insufferable” and gestured for them to follow as she strode out of the curtains.  By the time they caught up with her at the next bed, she’d already begun her report.

“The patient is Daphne Isabelle Greengrass.  While she had some bruising across her body, the only severe conditions were the magical exhaustion and damage to her spinal discs.”

Harry didn’t know that spines had discs.  You learn something new every day, he supposed.  He glanced over at Tracey, who looked horrified as Pomfrey continued her explanation.

“The bruising was all treatable by wandwork, as none of the vertebrae or nerves were damaged by the impact.  The discs were easily repaired through a dose of skele-gro optimised for cartilage regrowth, although the magical exhaustion slowed the healing process substantially.  The last dose of sedative should be wearing off momentarily…”

Tracey fidgeted where she was standing as Harry just… watched Pomfrey.  She was maintaining a Tempus charm, watching the seconds tick by.  Was she really so good that she was able to accurately predict when someone would wake up from sedation?

“Now.”  Pomfrey said just before Daphne began to stir.  How did she even-  “Miss Greengrass?  Can you hear me?”

Daphne let out a noise between a groan and a whimper.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  Are you feeling any residual pain?  Can you move your legs?”

Daphne just groaned, rolled over, and covered her head with the pillow.  Pomfrey cast several spells on Daphne before sighing.

"Patient is unusually groggy, despite all traces of the sedative having been processed by her system.  The most likely cause is the patient being a slow waker.  Given the patient's visible mobility, I believe it safe to assume that her spine has healed perfectly.  End report."

Daphne groaned from underneath the pillow.

Pomfrey vanished the pillow and blanket.  "That's quite enough, Miss Greengrass!  I have important duties to attend to!  Duties that do not include babysitting you as you wake up!"

"Is she always like this when she wakes up?"  Harry whispered.

"You have no idea."  Tracey replied.  "Daph has to set four different alarms to get up in time for class.  She does not like waking up."

Daphne tried to roll over again, only to fall out of the bed.  Harry moved to try and catch her, but her fall was magically slowed, gently placing her on the ground.

"And Bathsheda thought that ward was a waste of time."  Pomfrey said smugly.  "That was the tenth time I've needed it this month!"

Tracey walked over to Daphne and helped her to her feet in a practiced motion.  Daphne’s head slumped into Tracey’s shoulder as Tracey guided her past the curtains.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the apparent ease with which she guided the barely conscious Daphne.

“We have to do this every morning.”  Tracey explained.  “She doesn’t really start waking up until she gets out of bed.”

"So she just… leans on you for support?  Every morning?"

"Well, what else would I do?"  Tracey asked.  "It's not like Daph gets up on her own in a reasonable amount of time."

Harry didn't think he understood any of his friends.  Then again, he wasn't sure he understood most people.  "So… what does she do at home?"

Tracey shrugged, jostling Daphne slightly in the process.  "You have to remember that my mom travels a lot, and I can't always go with her.  I usually stay with Auntie Isabelle when that happens, so I wake up Daphne most of the time.  Auntie always complains about having to do it herself when I'm not there."

Auntie Isabelle… so that meant…  "Wait, Daphne's mother is your aunt?  I didn't know you two were actually related…"

She laughed.  "No, we're not related.  Aunt Izzy is my godmother."

Oh.  Harry didn't know anything about that.  Did he have godparents?  It would give him an easy way out of going back to the Dursleys.  On the other hand, he wasn't sure he wanted to know why any potential godparents hadn't been involved in his life up until this point.

"You two are loud."  Daphne grumbled.  "Don' like it."

"I'm sure you'll survive, Daph."  Tracey quipped back.

"Mmph."

Harry always found it a little odd how easily Daphne and Tracey interacted with each other, despite their differences.  He supposed that if they had been around each other their whole life…  Well, they were probably a lot like siblings.  Was that how siblings usually interacted?  Harry had heard terms like "sibling rivalry" before, but he’d never seen an example.  He really didn't know how well their dynamic really fit that description.

Those thoughts were pushed to the side as Pomfrey brought them to where Hermione was staying.  Unlike the rest of them, she was in a separate room at the back of the hospital wing, one designed for a single person.  The room contained numerous apparatuses and potions, leaving Harry feeling somewhat nauseous at the thought that such things were necessary for Hermione's treatment.  Just how badly had she been hurt?

Harry regretted wondering that as Pomfrey began her report.  He understood that reports needed to be detailed, but her description seemed unnecessarily graphic.  A quick glance at Tracey showed her looking similarly queasy.  Even Daphne looked to be waking up, if only out of horror.

"Luckily, despite the extent of the injuries, there is no lasting damage."  Pomfrey continued.  "The only potential risk is a need for some form of vision correction at a young age due to potential damage the bone shards could have done to the occipital lobe.  Beginning awakening procedure."

Unlike Tracey, who was awoken by wand, and Daphne, who woke on her own, Hermione was given a potion.  Colour slowly returned to her face and her breathing steadily increased until her eyes shot open.  She looked around the room before her eyes settled on them.  “What happened?”

“Well, good to see you can speak.”  Pomfrey said as she began casting diagnostics.  “Now, what’s the most recent thing you can remember?”

“Um… I remember that we were…”  Hermione glanced over to Tracey, who nodded in return.  “We were in the third-floor corridor, and we had just solved the potion riddle.  We… we went into the next chamber, but someone was already there, and then…”  Hermione shook her head.  “I’m sorry, I can’t remember anything else.”

“That’s plenty, dear.  The fact that you can remember that much proves that you haven’t suffered any lasting damage to your short-term memory.”

“What happened?”  Hermione asked again as she felt the bandages on her head being removed.

“Quirrell knocked you out by throwing you into a brick wall.”  Tracey said… helpfully?  Harry was pretty sure that Tracey thought she was being helpful.  “Also, Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort or something.  I’m not really sure about the specifics on that one.”

“He was WHAT!?”  Hermione yelled, borderline hysterically.

“Ah, Severus, right on time.”  Pomfrey said as Snape walked into the room.  “They’re all in good shape, so you can get on with it.  They’ve already disturbed the sanctity of the hospital wing far too much for my liking.”

Snape’s face showed no emotion as he gestured for them to follow and strode out of the hospital wing.  Harry exchanged a glance with his friends before they all rushed after him.

The following silence was extremely awkward.  It was obvious that Snape didn’t want to say anything, and none of them wanted to irritate him by being bothersome.  It wasn’t until they were on the sixth floor after taking a staircase down from the fourth floor that Snape broke the silence.

“The four of you are not likely in any serious trouble.  Any wrongdoing on your part will almost certainly be overlooked due to your young age and the headmaster’s foolish belief in second chances.  That said, we have a teacher who died from an unforgivable cast by his own wand, and we need to determine what happened.  In this case, honesty is the best policy.”

Tracey looked a little nervous at that.

“Fortunately, Dumbledore is exercising Hogwarts’s rights to sovereignty to keep the Ministry out of this investigation, and I imagine he plans to keep it that way.  As such, any consequences for hypothetical wrongdoing on your part will be purely disciplinary.  Tell the truth, because he will know if you aren’t.  Jelly babies .”

That last part was obviously a password, as the stone gargoyle they’d approached leapt aside once Snape finished speaking.

“Well, get on with it, then.  Every minute I spend escorting you four is a moment I don’t spend tending to my potions research.”

Harry looked at the others as they rode up the rotating staircase.  Daphne’s expression was neutral, which was unsurprising.  Tracey actually looked nervous, the first time Harry could recall her showing the emotion.  Hermione looked relatively unconcerned, likely due to her memory loss around the incident in question.  She didn’t remember how terrifying it was to fight Quirrell as he shrugged off literally everything they threw at him, up to and including a literal bomb.  Harry had really thought they were all about to die.

They arrived at the top of the stairs, but before they could open the door, Tracey stopped them.

“Guys…  I… I want to apologise.  I knew there would be risks and danger involved in going down the corridor, but I didn’t think we’d actually be risking our lives .  I know that there was no way I could have predicted that Quirrell would fight us to the death, but I’m still sorry that I nearly got us all killed.”

Harry shrugged.  “Near-death or not, it was the most interesting thing I’ve done all year.”

Daphne just sighed.  “I always knew that you would get me killed someday.  Just try to make sure it doesn’t happen before I’m twenty.  I’d at least like to get a taste of adulthood before I go.”

Hermione looked at them like they were all crazy.  “Wait, we almost DIED!?”

At that point, the door opened on its own.  “As heartwarming as that short exchange was, we really should get down to business.”  The headmaster’s voice sounded from within the room.  “Please, take a seat.”

Daphne followed Harry into the office, taking a seat just to his right, followed by Tracey and Hermione.

She really didn’t know how to feel about all of this.  On the one hand, She didn’t think anyone — except maybe Snape — had been able to identify Quirrell as dangerous .  Morally dubious, sure.  Hell, they had been able to figure that out just from the one conversation Harry and Tracey had overheard during winter break.  But she doubted anyone could have predicted that he would have gone all out in a fight to kill children.  So it wasn’t really Dumbledore’s fault that Quirrell nearly killed them, especially since he’d been a teacher for several years without incident.

On the other hand, Dumbledore was responsible for bringing the Philosopher’s Stone here in the first place.  Yes, Hogwarts was a fortress, but it was a school first and foremost.  Keeping an artifact that would attract so many thieves while school was in session was reckless at best, and foolish at worst.  It was even worse when she considered the fact that the Stone was protected with a large number of dangerous — and possibly lethal — traps, and the only things between them and any wandering students was an easily unlocked door and a warning that it was out of bounds.

Yes, they may have chosen to pursue the stone for their own gain, but it was the principle of the thing!  If anyone had wandered into the room with the cerberus by accident, then they could easily have died.  If some student somehow made it past the cerberus, then they could have died to the devil’s snare.  The only room that wasn’t obscenely dangerous in its own right was the key room, and even that took place at extreme heights over a stone floor.

Their first priority was making sure that they weren’t held accountable for the death of Professor Quirrell, but once that was done, Daphne was definitely going to give the headmaster a piece of her mind.  Probably.

"So, why don't we start at the beginning.  What exactly led you to the third-floor corridor?"  Dumbledore asked.

Daphne was prepared to offer a slightly edited version of the actual events leading up to their adventure, but Tracey beat her to it.

“We were there to save the day!”

Dammit, Tracey.  Didn’t Snape just finish telling them to be honest ?  As in, not making shit up !?

Fortunately for them, Dumbledore seemed more amused than anything.  “Is that so?  And how did you plan on doing that?”

“Well, with you out of the castle for the solstice meeting of the Wizengamot, it was obvious that Quirrell was going to make his move on the third-floor corridor.  We decided that the best way to stop Quirrell was to beat him to the prize, so we’d have to claim it first!”

Dumbledore nodded as if everything Tracey had just said was perfectly sensible.   Daphne thought she could feel a headache coming on.

Tracey continued her retelling, if it could be called that.  “So, we snuck to the third-floor corridor and began making our way past the harrowing set of obstacles until we reached the end.”

“If I may.”  Dumbledore interrupted.  “I wanted to ask about how you got past each of the obstacles.  In many cases, you seem to have worked around the intended solution.  Care to guide me through your methods?”

“We focused on putting the cerberus to sleep with coordinated sleeping spells.”  Hermione explained.  “It was the only weakness on them that we could find.  They’re really rare creatures and aren’t in most catalogues of magical creatures, so we worked with what we could find.  For the devil’s snare, we used…”  She glanced at Harry.

“A really powerful Lumos charm.”  He offered.  “Like… really powerful.”

Right, because that was discreet.  Regardless of Dumbledore’s adamance about maintaining Hogwarts’s sovereignty, Harry should keep his experimentation with blood magic from as many people as possible.  Daphne leapt in and changed the subject.

“The flying keys were comparatively easy.  It was all about pattern recognition to spot the right key, then working around its dodging abilities.”

“The chess set was the hardest.”  Tracey said.

Daphne let out a small groan at the thought of that stupid chess set, and she wasn’t the only one to do so.

“I hate chess…”  Daphne muttered.

“I don’t even know how to play the game!”  Harry added.

“I’ve never won a game of chess in my life!”  Hermione complained.

Tracey just shrugged.  “At least beating the pieces up afterwards was cathartic, right?”

“Cathartic, my arse.”  Daphne mumbled.  Daphne was just glad that they only had to take down around half the set.  Taking on the whole thing would have been a nightmare.

“I assume your strategy was to freeze them and then shatter them while they were brittle?”  Dumbledore asked.  “Most of the ice in that room had yet to melt by the time I got there.”

Hermione nodded vigorously.  “Yes, once I saw Daphne freeze one, I realised that we could shatter them by freezing them.”

Harry shrugged.  “I figured that if it worked on metroids then it would work on statues.”

None of them seemed to know what to make of that until Tracey asked the question that was on everyone’s mind, “What the hell is a metroid?”

“It’s a type of jellyfish alien from this game Dudley liked to play.  He was really bad at the game, so he just used cheat codes to get to the end.”

“That anecdote aside, you four made impressive work of the chess set in outright combat.  Now, that leaves the troll and potion rooms?”  Dumbledore asked.

“Well, the troll was unconscious already, so we went straight to the potion room.  Daph and Hermione solved the riddle, and then I had to talk them out of trusting anything made by Snape, so I tested the potion to make sure it wasn’t actually poison, since he’d totally make bullshit trick questions like that.”  Tracey explained.

“Language!”  Hermione hissed.

“It’s English, Hermione.”  Tracey snarked.  “It’s the same language we’ve been speaking this whole time.  Anyways, once I figured out it was just flame freezing draught, Daph cast the equivalent charm on the fire and we all went through.  Then I valiantly challenged Quirrell to a duel over the prize, and then…”  She shrugged.  “That was when it all went to shit.”

“Oh Morrigan, Tracey.”  Daphne muttered as she rested her head in her hands.

“Quirrell’s opening move was bluebell fireballs, which we barely dodged.  Harry threw up a smokescreen, which gave me and Hermione cover.”  Tracey continued.

“I don’t know what most of the spells Quirrell was using were.”  Harry elaborated.  “But I didn’t think a basic shield charm would defend against them, so I just used bits of rubble to keep us safe.  Hermione distracted him long enough to land several good hits on him, but that didn’t even slow him down.  Tracey threw a bomb at him, but that didn’t do him in either.  After that, he put a body-bind on me and blasted the others into the walls.”

“I only hit the stairs.”  Tracey explained.  “So I wasn’t unconscious.  Quirrell didn’t seem to realise that, so I cast a tripping jinx to move Harry out of the way of Quirrell’s killing curse.  It hit that magic mirror and reflected right back to him.  Then some black smoke ghost came out of Quirrell’s corpse and I stuck my tongue out at it because it deserved it.”

“There’s a curse that just kills things?”  Harry asked.  Daphne had to remind herself that of course Harry wouldn’t know about things like that.  He was raised by muggles.  Horrible, neglectful muggles.

“There is.”  Dumbledore says solemnly.  “It’s impossible to block using any kind of shield, and any object used to block its path is destroyed.  It’s the same curse that Voldemort tried to use on you all those years ago, at least according to my forensic analysis of the scene and the wound upon your head.”

Harry started to look withdrawn at that, which Dumbledore seemed to notice.

“That aside, I believe that the four of you are telling the truth.”  He said, changing the subject.  “Minor embellishments aside, everything you’ve told me rings true with what I was able to gather from the scene.  Given your spotless records this term, I believe that we can let the matter slide.  Now then, with that unpleasant matter out of the way, I do have some minor followup questions, purely out of personal curiosity.  Tell me, how did you find the third-floor corridor?  Were the puzzles appropriately challenging?  Was investigating them a fun diversion?”

What the actual fuck?

“Er, yeah?”  Tracey replied.  “I mean, the chess room was a huge pain since we’re all bad at the game, and the cerberus was pretty tricky to coordinate our shots, but the rest of the challenges were within our ability.”

Dumbledore nodded.  “Very well, I’ll be sure to take that into account.  Thank you for your input.”

That was it.  Daphne couldn’t take it anymore.  Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she yelled out.  “Why were you keeping the Philosopher’s Stone in the school!?”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed.  “What in the world are you talking about, Miss Greengrass?”

“The Philosopher’s Stone!  Why would you keep it here?  Yes, Hogwarts is a fortress, but it’s a school first and keeping an artefact that would attract so many unsavoury characters is reckless endangerment at best and outright negligence at worst!  What do you have to say for yourself!?”

Daphne’s voice rose in volume as she yelled.  She didn’t realise it had bothered her this much until she’d let it out.

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “Miss Greengrass…  I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Daphne took several calming breaths.  "The Philosopher’s Stone was being hidden at the end of the third-floor corridor.  Voldemort possessed Quirrell to try and get it.  Why did you keep it here in the first place?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath in and sighed, massaging his temples with his forefingers.  "So I was correct, then.  I saw signs of possession in his corpse, but I had hoped…"  He sighed.  “Quirinus’s body was a mess.  In addition to the large amount of damage he sustained in battle with you and being hit by a killing curse, he had ingested a large number of performance enhancing potions as well as an excessive dose of fresh unicorn blood.  I was barely able to make out anything through the mess of magic scarring his body.”

“Quirrell was being possessed by Voldemort.  Voldemort was after the Philosopher’s Stone.  Why was it here?”  Daphne said slowly.

“I suppose you all have a right to know after what happened.”  Dumbledore began.  “For the past decade, I have strongly suspected that Voldemort did not truly die on the night that young Harry was marked.  As such, when I received word from one of my contacts abroad that Voldemort was on the move, I sought out my old friends Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel so that we might lay a trap.

The Philosopher’s Stone is not the only method Voldemort could use to regain a physical form, but it is the easiest and most advantageous.  As such, we sought to use the Philosopher’s Stone as live bait in an attempt to contain Voldemort’s spirit until we could eliminate him for good.  It took several months, but we eventually came up with a design that we believe to be foolproof.

Unfortunately, that plan seems to have failed.  The Philosopher’s Stone is not in the school.  The Philosopher’s Stone was never in the school.  I have no idea why Voldemort thought it was here in Hogwarts instead of in France, under Flamel’s supervision.  That was what we both mentioned in the rumours we tried to start…”

“So… The Philosopher’s Stone was never at the end of the third-floor corridor?”  Tracey asked with audible disappointment.

Dumbledore smiled genially.  “I’m sorry, dear girl, but it was not.”

Daphne’s brain finally began to catch up with her.  But then…  “What was the point of the third-floor corridor, then?  Even if the Philosopher’s Stone wasn’t there, it was still a gauntlet filled with dangerous traps that was easily accessible to students!”

The headmaster’s expression was carefully neutral as he answered her question.  “I can tell you that if you insist, but I will need some promises in return.  Do you still wish to know?”

Daphne nodded vigorously.  Of course she wanted to know what the dangerous gauntlet was for!

“First, I will need you to promise that you will not tell anyone what I am about to tell you.  Not your fellow students, not your parents, not your teachers, and especially not Professor McGonagall.  Is this agreeable?”

Daphne nodded slowly.  Harry, Hermione, and Tracey all exchanged glances before nodding along with her.

“The second thing I’ll need you to promise is that you will not go looking for trouble for the remainder of your Hogwarts days.  I know that strange things always happen at magic schools and that Harry’s fame will attract trouble, but I will at least ask that you not seek out any trouble on your own and that you’ll ask a teacher for help if things ever get out of hand.  Understood?”

Daphne’s nod may have been a bit too enthusiastic, but this was as close as she’d ever get to a guarantee that Tracey wouldn’t do her best to get them all killed while they were at Hogwarts.  Tracey was, of course, the most hesitant to agree, but she did eventually give a nod.

Dumbledore sighed.  “Very well then.  Let me ask you, do you know what the most frustrating thing about being headmaster of a magical boarding school is?”

None of them seemed to know how to answer that question.  “Nooo…?”  Tracey replied slowly.

“It is the fact that all of the school’s students are filled with the spirit of adolescent rebellion.  They all want to skirt the rules and flirt with danger, even when doing so is an actual risk to their wellbeing.  It was a problem that plagued the school throughout my days as Deputy Headmaster, and early into my tenure as Headmaster, I came up with the most brilliant solution to the problem.  I would give the students a way to feel like they were doing something dangerous and rebellious when it was in fact perfectly safe!”

What.

“It was brilliant!  Most efforts at rulebreaking were focused onto my fake obstacles and dangers, keeping the students safe without oppressing their youthful spirits!”  Dumbledore continued to explain.  “I made sure I did a different one every year so students wouldn’t get suspicious.  This year’s diversion was actually one of my weaker ones, as setting up the trap with the Philosopher’s Stone took up most of my time over the summer, so I had to outsource the work to the teachers and modify their tests to be harmless.  Fluffy, Hagrid’s cerberus, is fully trained and mostly just wants to play.  He’s no danger to students at all!  The devil’s snare room has a ward that will flood the room with sunlight should anyone inside lose consciousness, then alert the house elves to remove the students.  The flying key room has cushioning charms on every surface to prevent students from harming themselves with the brooms.  The chess set has weapons imbued with goblin enchantments by Filius so that they will render anyone they hit unconscious without inflicting so much as a bruise.  The troll was a security troll trained not to harm anyone in its room.  The poisons in Severus’s potion challenge were just sleeping draughts.  And at the end was the reward — a glimpse into the Mirror of Erised, a once dark artefact rendered harmless by myself through months of effort!”

What.

“So…”  Hermione said slowly.  “The third-floor corridor is a perfectly safe gauntlet that seems extremely dangerous so students can get in trouble in a contained way?”

“Exactly!”  Dumbledore replied with far too much enthusiasm.

“…Are we free to go, sir?”  Hermione asked, seemingly desperate for an escape.

“Certainly, my dear.  We’ve discussed everything we need to.  Just remember your promises — I highly doubt Minerva would take kindly to my brilliant ideas, after all.”  He said, eyes twinkling madly, emphasis on mad .

Daphne stood up and began walking towards the door when Tracey grabbed Harry’s sleeve and whispered something in his ear.  Harry nodded and stayed behind as the rest of them left the room.  Once the door was shut, Daphne turned to her and asked, “What the hell was that about?”

“Reminding Harry that he needs to ask the headmaster about ‘alternative living arrangements’.  He’ll ask about staying at Hogwarts first.  If that fails and Dumbledore fails to offer a reasonable alternative, then we’ll take things into our own hands.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”  Hermione responded.  “I mean, I’m sure the headmaster will do the right thing.”

“I hope so.”  Daphne added.

If Harry thought that the earlier silence was awkward, it had nothing on this.  He just stood in front of Dumbledore's desk, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject.

"Is there something more you need, Mister Potter?"  Dumbledore asked.

Well, now or never.  "It's just that I, um, well…  the school year is ending soon.”

“I am aware of this.”  He replied.  “I’m assuming it relates to what you want to speak to me about?”

“Er…  Yes.  It’s just that with the end of the school year approaching, everyone will be going home, and I was, uh, wondering if I could stay here over the summer instead of going… back.”

Harry saw a flash of… something move across Dumbledore’s face.  He barely had time to notice the change in expression before it was back to normal.

“The answer to that request is no .”  Dumbledore said deliberately.  “While some members of our staff live in the school year-round, a majority of them prefer to spend the summers engaging in personal pursuits.  In addition to that, I will be spending the summer updating the wards in hope of preventing Voldemort or anything like him from gaining access to the school a second time.  I would be remiss to let a student stay here with minimal supervision while maintenance is being performed on the school.”

That… wasn’t what he was hoping to hear.  “Is there anywhere else I can stay?  Anywhere at all?”

Dumbledore steepled his hands and stared at Harry for a moment before replying.  “You do not wish to return to your relatives.”

It was asked like a question, but spoken like a statement.  “No, sir.”  Harry answered.

“Are you happy there?”

Harry didn’t think he could bring himself to say it.  Instead, he just shook his head.

The room was silent for some time before Dumbledore spoke up again.  “Tell me, Harry, are you aware why you were placed with your Aunt and Uncle?”

He didn’t know there was a reason, beyond them being related to him.  “Sir?”

Dumbledore sighed.  “Let me tell you how it happened, then.  On November 7th, 1981, one week after you miraculously survived Voldemort’s attack and subsequent vanquishing, a custody trial was held for you by the Wizengamot.  Normally, such trials are easily resolved, but there were several hurdles involved in yours that were further complicated by your newfound fame.  The first choice of guardian is usually one or both of the godparents.  Unfortunately, in the week between the attack and the custody trial, your godfather, Sirius Black, was arrested as a Death Eater, and your godmother, Alice Longbottom, was rendered comatose after hours of torture.  In cases where the godparents are unavailable, then the will of your parents would be consulted.  Alas, while I know your parents had written copies of their wills in case the worst happened, they were destroyed in the explosion that took out Voldemort before they could be properly filed.

In the rare cases where this happens, the child would normally be sent to their closest living magical relative.  Of your four living second cousins, two were in prison for serving Voldemort and one was cast out of the family, severely weakening her claim to custody of you.  The one remaining cousin who had a strong claim was Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy’s mother.

Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa’s husband, was a known servant of Voldemort, but he was acquitted by claiming that he had been ‘bewitched’ to serve Voldemort.  He had garnered a large amount of public sympathy by playing up his woes of involuntary servitude at Voldemort’s hands, though I found myself highly skeptical of the man’s innocence.  I could not in good faith allow you to be raised by a man with such questionable loyalties.  At best, you would have been raised to believe in everything your parents gave their lives to fight against, and at worst, you would have been offered up as a prize to Voldemort upon his return.”

Harry took a moment to shake his head.  This was a lot to take in.

Dumbledore continued his tale of events.  “As such, during your custody trial, I proposed that you should be sent to your aunt’s house, as she was technically a closer living relative than Narcissa.  To add to my argument, I testified that your mother had invoked ancient sacrificial magic to keep you safe and that living with any blood relative of hers would reinforce the protection it offered, keeping you safe from further harm.”

That news hit Harry like a stab to the heart.  "So… I have to stay there to keep me safe from Voldemort?"

"That's what I told the Wizengamot, yes."  He explained.  "And lying to the Wizengamot is a crime.  Why, if I admitted to falsifying testimony and forensic evidence for the sake of changing the outcome of a trial, I could get in a lot of trouble."

Realisation slowly dawned on Harry as Dumbledore's explanation went on.  "So… the Dursleys are my legal guardians, but hypothetically, I could stay elsewhere if the need arises."

"That is correct."  Dumbledore confirmed.  "However, there is a caveat.  If, hypothetically, it was discovered that you were no longer staying at the Dursleys, then they would have legally forfeited their right to custody, and the Malfoys could reopen their claim.  Now, if you were to live in the Magical World full-time, then this would be discovered fairly quickly.  The Ministry is surprisingly effective at keeping tabs on what goes on in the Magical World.  Unfortunately, their monitoring of the Muggle World is so sparse that it barely exists.  Why, if you were to run away from your relatives and stay in the Muggle World, the Ministry might not realise anything was amiss until decades after you'd come of age!  What a tragedy that would be."

Harry nodded solemnly.  "Well, thank you for your advice, headmaster.  I believe I understand what I need to do."

"Farewell, Mister Potter.  I wish you a very happy summer."

Harry just nodded in reply before he left, shutting the door behind him.  He exhaled deeply as soon as he left and took a moment to compose himself before he stepped onto the spinning staircase.  Reading subtext was exhausting.  He was so glad he'd stayed out of Slytherin's politics before Zacharias made the whole thing devolve into petty fighting.  Doing that sort of thing constantly would give him a headache.

Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey were all waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well?"  Tracey piped up.  "What happened?"

"Things were…"  Harry probably should watch his words.  "More complicated than I was expecting.  I got a solution, though."

"That's good."  Daphne replied as she stretched her arms, popping several joints.  "Shall we head back to the common room, then?"

"I need to stop by the owlery first, actually."  Harry said.  "And I need to ask Hermione for a huge favour."

"Me?  What do you need me for?"  She asked.

"I'll explain on the way.  Like I said, things were more complicated than I realised.  Basically…"

Dumbledore let out a deep sigh as Harry and his friends walked away from the Gargoyle that guarded his office.  He took several deep, calming breaths before he spoke to himself.

"Harry Potter is not Tom Riddle."

He knew it wasn't true, but it still helped to say it.  Harry wasn't Tom Riddle, but the similarities between them were uncanny.  Both raised in less than ideal circumstances in the Muggle World, both sorted into Slytherin, both showing antisocial tendencies…  Was this coincidence, or was it the prophecy at play, seeking to make the two of them more similar?  Was someone who understood Voldemort on a fundamental level the only one who could take him out?  

Dumbledore doubted it, but it was worth investigating.  

Still, he hoped he made the right choice this time.  Back when he first met Tom, he saw flashes of a young Gellert.  Dumbledore attempted to use a firm hand to keep Tom from following the same path, giving him the firm disciplinary hand that Gellert had lacked, only for those attempts to backfire and end up with a much worse Dark Lord than Grindelwald ever was.

Dumbledore knew it was his fault.  He’d known it was his fault for some time.  He was so focused on his first impressions of Tom that he missed seeing him for what he was — a mistreated orphan boy who'd survived by using whatever power he had available.

"I hope I made the right choice this time."  He muttered.

"What's that, Albus?"  A new voice spoke up.

Dumbledore turned to the Sorting Hat, sitting upon its shelf.  He'd completely forgotten it was there.  Then again, that was how this whole year's fiasco had started, wasn't it?

"What do you think, Hat?  Do you think I made the right choice?"

"I don't know about your choices, but I think I made a great one this year.  It's turned out better than I ever could have expected.  I think I'll keep it up!"

Dumbledore smiled.  "You do that, Hat."

Everything was going to be fine.  He'd take down Voldemort and ensure that no more dark lords rose under his watch.  It was the least he owed Europe after being responsible for the last two.

A sudden coughing fit interrupted Parvati's maniacal laughter.  Really, who would have thought that a bellowing, evil laugh would be so hard for a twelve year old girl to pull off?

With the required maniacal laughter out of the way, Parvati addressed her Lieutenants.  "What news do we have?"

"Well, the good news is that we now have a definitive idea of the events that transpired on the third-floor corridor, resulting in Quirrell's death."  Carmichael explained.  "The bad news is that, well, it turns out that the Philosopher's Stone was never located in the third-floor corridor, so you won't be able to steal it from Davis before the leaving feast this evening."

Parvati sputtered.  "What!?  What do you mean the Philosopher's Stone was never in the corridor!?  We had consistent information from multiple sources saying that it was!"

Carmichael flinched.  "I don't know what happened!  Not even Dumbledore knows how that misinformation got out!   Luckily, Dumbledore is likely to investigate that over the summer, so it will simply be a matter of asking the portraits what he found out."

Parvati groaned.  This threw a wrench into so many of her plans.  How was she supposed to pay off people in the government and media without the Philosopher's Stone to act as a source of infinite money?  Sure, she had a reasonable amount of money from her various ventures this year — rich children were willing to spend lots of money for good gossip — but it wasn't enough for her purposes.  She needed to extend her realm of influence beyond the halls of Hogwarts so that she had complete mastery of the flow of information throughout magical Britain.  Was that really too much to ask!?

"Ugh, fine.  So there's no Philosopher's Stone.  What about the second high priority thing?  Finding dirt on my parents?"

"Umm… we've had no such luck.  By all public accounts, your parents are respected members of the community.  I'm sure that they have their dirty laundry, because who doesn't, but whatever missteps they've made are either very minor or very well-hidden."

"Are you shitting me!?"  Parvati wailed.  "Do you know what this means!?  I am going to be grounded all summer!  All I wanted was to blackmail my parents to avoid that, but apparently , that's not possible.  What was the point of expanding our network beyond Hogwarts if we can't even get good blackmail material!?"

"Um, Parvati…"  Andrew said hesitantly.  "We sort of haven't expanded our influence beyond Hogwarts.  I don't know if you've noticed, but we're all students.  Most adults won't take an information trading ring run out of Hogwarts very seriously, let alone one run by an eleven year old."

"Oh, I understand.  It's an institutional problem, then.  On the bright side, this means that we're the underdogs, and are therefore fated to win."  That was how it worked in all the stories, at least.  "Atkins!"  Parvati snapped, making Andrew jump.  "You're graduating, right?  Where will you be working?"

Andrew took a deep breath.  "I got a clerical job in the Department of Records.  It was, uh, the only place that would accept someone with 'mediocre grades'."

Parvati cackled.  "Perfect!  Keep us informed of any and all juicy information that you stumble across."

"Um…"  Andrew appeared hesitant.  "That's… not really allowed.  I could lose my job for doing that."

"I'll double your pay."

Whatever protest he was about to voice died on his lips.  "Well, I guess bribery is a Ministry tradition.  Everyone does it.  Fine, I'll keep you informed."

"Excellent!  First Hogwarts, soon Britain, and finally, the world!  Bwahahahahaha-"  Parvati's evil laughter was once again interrupted by a coughing fit.  "Seriously, how do people do that?"

Dumbledore sighed and decided that he had better call Nicolas.  Voldemort didn't take the bait — or rather, he took the wrong bait — so there was no point in keeping the traps on the Philosopher's Stone up any longer.  It was best to put it back under the proper protections that Nicolas had been using for centuries.

Still, all of the efforts they put into creating defences that looked like they could be beaten but were nearly impenetrable, wasted.  And now that Voldemort had been foiled, he was unlikely to spring for the same bait again.  Dumbledore really did need to find out what happened to make Voldemort think that the Philosopher's Stone was hidden in Hogwarts.  He did realise that Flamel needed doses of Elixir every few months, right?  The man had made several public appearances this month alone, which would have necessitated that he have the Stone available for fresh elixir.

"Foolish…"  he muttered to himself.  Perhaps it was a fool's errand to try and destroy Voldemort on his own.  Attempting to defy a prophecy may be an exercise in futility, but Dumbledore would be damned if he was going to leave the fighting in the hands of a child.

He grabbed some floo powder and turned towards the fireplace, only for it to flare green on its own and have Flamel stumble out.

"Nicolas?  What are you doing here?"

Flamel coughed a few times as he dispelled the ash from his clothing.  He must have been in quite a rush.  "We have a problem, Albus.  The Philosopher's Stone has been stolen."

Chapter Text

Dumbledore stared at Nicolas, his brain failing to comprehend the words that had just been spoken.

"The Philosopher's Stone has been stolen."

Finally, his brain caught up with reality, and hundreds of questions fought to be voiced.  Two of them fought their way to the front, and he choked out  "How?  Who?"

Nicolas shook his head.  "I have no idea.  None of the protections were triggered, and everything was exactly as it should be.  I wouldn’t have even realised it was missing if not for my fortnightly checks.  It was there not four days ago when Minerva insisted I check on it."

Dumbledore's mind raced.  Had Voldemort managed to steal the stone?  Had one of his more competent servants managed to steal it for him?

"I'll need to take a look at the scene."  He said.

Nicolas nodded.  "Of course, but first, security checks.  What was the first thing you ever said to me?"

Despite himself, Dumbledore smiled.  "I said 'get out of the way, you old codger!  I'm late for an important meeting with Nicolas Flamel!'.  Well, if you want to play that game, then I suppose I should reciprocate.  What did you say to me when you got drunk on the final Christmas Eve of my apprenticeship?"

Nicolas's smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.  "I… can't recall exactly , but it was something to the effect of 'it's a damn shame you're gay, because Elixir of Life makes breasts so damn perky.'  I offered to let you grope Perenelle as an example and she wouldn't speak to me for months afterwards."

Dumbledore nodded.  “Well, now that we've finished reminiscing about embarrassing events to confirm our identities, let us examine the scene of the crime.”

The floo flashed green as Nicolas returned to France, and Dumbledore followed.  They quickly left the parlour and entered the back garden to the Flamel residence, where their trap had been set.  Perenelle was waiting for them by the boundary of the trap’s wardline.

"Come on, you two.  It seems our thief left a calling card of sorts, but the wards are keeping me from accessing it.  We'll have to take them all down."

Dumbledore sighed.  Taking down the wards would take hours.  There went the rest of his day.

Harry's trunk landed with a loud "thunk" as he released the levitation charm and dropped it in the luggage rack.  It was certainly easier than lifting it up himself, like he'd had to do on the trip to Hogwarts.  Magic really was amazing.

"Do mine next, Harry?"  Tracey asked.  When he gave her an askance look in response, she clasped her hands together and pleaded.  "Please?  You're the best at levitation charms in our year."

Well, that was true.  He'd cast the charm hundreds of times this year, mostly to levitate objects into the path of spells.  It was less efficient than using a shield, but it protected against a lot more than a shield would.

Harry's levitation charm was so good that he was the only person to score an O+ on their charms exam, the precision and ease with which he used it gaining him just enough extra credit to push him over a perfect score.  Flitwick had compared his spellwork to his mother's, which filled Harry with a sense of pride.

With a sigh, he cast a levitation charm and placed Tracey's luggage next to his.

“I’m going to tell mum that you’re being lazy.”  Daphne chided.

Tracey stuck her tongue out.  “You know Aunt Izzie doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

Daphne harrumphed and turned her attention back to her book.

“You’ve got your cloak on you, though, right?”  Hermione asked for the third time.

Harry pulled the folded invisibility cloak out of his pocket.  “Yeah, I do.  We’ll need a way to make my luggage and Hedwig’s cage invisible…”

“My mum can do that.”  Daphne volunteered.  "She approves of this scheme, and I'm sure she'll be glad to help."

"Well, I guess that solves it, then."  Harry said as he threw himself into the seat.  "I guess now we just have to kill time until we get back to London."

"Exploding Snap?"  Tracey suggested as she waggled a deck of cards.

"Some of us are trying to read ."  Hermione hissed.

"And you're free to keep trying.  Maybe you'll even succeed."  Tracey said as she shuffled the deck.  "Come on, Harry, you start."

Harry shrugged and sat down on the floor where Tracey had set the deck, doing his best to ignore Hermione's withering glare.

"I'll get you back for this."  He heard her mutter.  "And I'll have all summer to do it."

Lilly managed to contain her surprise as the train started moving.  She still existed.   That was… oddly reassuring?  It at least confirmed that she wasn't some sort of oddity who was bound to Hogwarts and only thought she was real.  Sure, everyone at Hogwarts was only able to notice her passively, but maybe that was just something that happened while she was at Hogwarts?  Would her parents still recognise her?  Did her parents even exist?

Maybe Lilly didn't exist, and she had just convinced herself that she did.  She was sure she'd read a story about something like that as a child.

Lilly steeled her resolve.  Now that she knew she could exist outside of Hogwarts, she'd spend the summer doing research into similar things to what she was experiencing.  Then, reality be damned, she would make people at Hogwarts acknowledge her existence!

She just had to keep existing long enough to actually do those things

She was worried this was more easily said than done.

Carmichael cursed as he walked into a door for a fifth time.  Several months spent spacing out whenever he went anywhere had taken their toll, and now that he no longer had the wards to guide him, he kept walking into things.  A quick episkey to his forehead prevented a bruise from forming, and he walked through the door, remembering to open it this time, and sat down.

He was really looking forward to the summer, actually.  Working for Parvati paid well — substantially better than most entry positions in the Wizarding World — but it was time consuming.  He’d barely had any chances to finish updating his character sheet for the summer’s LARPing sessions.  It didn’t matter that he was now an adult and thus no longer under the effects of the Trace.  LARPing was fun and it was how he met most of his muggle friends.  In fact, now that he was no longer under the Trace, maybe he could spice up their sessions with some fancy “special effects”.  It wasn’t illegal to use magic in front of muggles if they didn’t know it was magic.

Carmichael smiled as he finished his latest drawing of Bloodbourne Shadowbane.  They wouldn’t know what hit them.

“So, what are we doing for the summer?”  Tracey asked.  “I mean, there’s no way we’ll be going the whole two months without seeing each other, right?”

“Well, my mum and dad work most days, and they’re not comfortable with us having people over without an adult there to supervise.”  Hermione said.  “If we do get together, we’ll have to do it elsewhere.”

“My house is plenty big, and we have lots of outdoor property.”  Daphne offered.  “My parents will be fine with having you and Harry over.”

“Oh, yeah, that works.  Thanks.”  Harry said.

“In fact, you’ll be expected every Tuesday at ten.  I took the liberty of scheduling occlumency lessons for all of us.”

“Occlumency?”  Harry and Hermione asked in unison.  Harry was just wondering what it was that he’d been roped into, but Hermione leaned forward with a hungry look in her eyes at the prospect of additional lessons.

Tracey just groaned.  “Not that boring shite.”

“Occlumency is… well, scholars are divided into two camps about how to classify it.  One group wants to categorise it as ‘defensive mind magic’, and the other wants to categorise it as ‘internal mind magic’.  The point is that it can be used to protect against mind reading, emotional manipulation, memory erasing, and all manner of hostile mind magics.”

“It’s possible to read minds and erase memories and defending against it isn’t part of the curriculum!?”  Hermione shrieked.

“Um… yes?”  Daphne answered.  “How else do you think that the Ministry has been able to maintain the Statute of Secrecy for so long?”

“And it’s not a part of the curriculum because the Ministry doesn’t like people being able to subvert their surveillance of the population.”  Tracey added.

Daphne groaned.  “Not this shite again…”

“You know I’m right, though.  Your mom quit her job at the Department of Mysteries because she opposed how her work was being used.”

“My mum quit her job for multiple reasons.”  Daphne countered.

“And ethical concerns were chief among them.”

Daphne grumbled a bit but said nothing.

“So, what Daphne’s not telling you is that Occlumency is extremely boring.  Expect to spend a lot of time staring her tutor in the eyes waiting for something to happen.”  Tracey continued.

Hermione’s enthusiasm dampened slightly, but she wasn’t so easily swayed from learning.  “But it still seems like such a useful skill.  Even if it’s boring, we should try to learn it anyway.”

Tracey groaned again.  “Why is this even necessary!?  We’ve only just finished our first year!”

“Because we fought a teacher who was possessed by Voldemort!”  Daphne hissed.  “We barely managed to survive that encounter, and he was weak !  Do you really think he’ll let this defeat slide?  Do you really think he won’t come after us again now that we achieved a solid victory over him?  Voldemort is notoriously gifted at the mind arts, and when he next gets a chance to strike at us, he is not going to hold back.  Not after this time.”

Tracey mellowed immediately.  “Fine.  We’ll learn the boring occlumency because it will help us survive Voldemort.  But, I reserve my right to complain about how boring it is.”

Daphne rolled her eyes.  “I doubt I could stop you from doing that even if I tried.”

The mood in the compartment was slightly more somber after that.

“Father would be delighted for me to have friends over.”  Draco explained.  “Therefore, you two are formally invited to Malfoy Manor.”

Neville and Ernie did that thing where they exchanged a glance before replying.

“I don’t know if my gran would be comfortable with that.”  Neville replied.

“Why not?”  Draco asked.  The Malfoys were wealthy and respected throughout all of Magical Britain.  Many less fortunate people would jump at the chance to visit Malfoy Manor.

“Draco.”  Ernie said, speaking very slowly.  “Your father was a Death Eater.  Neither of our families would be comfortable with us being in his house.”

“Father was imperiused.”  Draco explained.  It was weird that they didn’t know that, but he couldn’t fault them for not knowing everything.  Still, Draco’s father being imperiused to serve the Dark Lord was generally common knowledge.

Ernie sighed and pinched his brow.  “Even so, I don’t think that we’d be comfortable with it.”

Draco nearly protested again, but hesitated.  He was trying to show Neville and Ernie that the Dark political party had the right of things.  Making them uncomfortable would hinder that aim.  “Alright then.  I suppose we can meet up at one of your houses if you prefer.”

“Oh, I can show you my greenhouses!”  Neville said excitedly.  “We’re supposed to be getting a new shipment of venomous plants in, and I’d love to show them off!”

Ernie looked even more hesitant than he did before.  Draco thought that plants were boring, but anything poisonous couldn’t be all boring.  “That sounds fun.”

Neville began excitedly explaining the intricacies of the plants he was getting, along with some stern reprimands that they shouldn’t be “mean to these plants the same way they were to that devil’s snare”.

“Oh yeah, mum would love to have you over.”  Ron offered.  “I think she mostly just likes the excuse to cook for people, but she loves having guests.”

“Ooh, food?”  Susan asked with starry eyes.  “Well, if your mum likes it, then who am I to refuse?”

Wayne groaned.  “You two really are birds of a feather, you know that?”

Susan ruffled Wayne’s hair.  “You need to learn to appreciate the simple pleasures in life.”

“There’s more than life to food!”  He protested as he tried to squirm out of her grip.

Ron gasped and clutched at his heart and Susan did likewise.  They made eye contact and began giggling.

“I’m surrounded by gluttons.”  Wayne groaned.

“It’s only gluttony if you don’t take the time to appreciate the food.”  Ron countered.

“Yeah, we are connoisseurs .”  Susan added.

Ron and Susan started laughing again as Wayne frowned and crossed his arms.

“If you keep making that face, it’ll stick that way.”  Ron joked.

“Oh, that would certainly be a sticky situation.”  Susan added.

Ron and Wayne groaned in unison.

“What’s wrong?  Can’t handle my pun -ishment?”  She continued.

“All I want is a normal school experience and I get stuck with you two loons.”  Wayne complained.

“It could be worse.”  Ron said.  “You could be friends with Tracey Davis.  I hear she set the Slytherin common room on fire because she thought it was funny.”

“There’s… there’s no way she’d still be at school if that happened, though.”  Wayne replied hesitantly.

“I mean, yeah, but in order for her to be expelled, Snape would have to care about what his students got up to, and what are the odds of that happening?”

That made Susan start laughing again, and the infectiousness of it soon had Ron rolling on the floor.

“I take it back.  You’re not loons.  You’re stooges.”   Wayne said before turning back to his book.

Shortly after the train pulled into platform 9¾, the Dark Mistress of Knowledge found herself face to face with two very displeased parents.

“Parvati…”  Her mother began, disappointment etched into her face.  “We made it very clear that we don’t want you engaging in this sort of unsavoury behaviour.”

“I am founding a new empire forged on the exchange of knowledge!  I am creating a new future and you are fools for standing in my way!”

Her father pinched his brow.  “Parvati, I understand that you are… going through a phase right now, but can you please speak normally?  We have not heard a normal word from you since you left for Hogwarts.”

“I am forging a new future!  This is the new world order!”

“Parvati…”

“I am the Dark Mistress of Knowledge and you will address me as such!”

“Well, the ‘Dark Mistress of Knowledge’ is grounded until she adjusts her attitude!”  Her mother snapped.

“You are fools who oppose me at your own peril!”  She shouted as she was dragged towards the floo.  “The Dark Mistress never forgives and she never forgets!”

“Well the Dark Mistress will have all summer to think about that!”  Her mother shouted as she dragged her through the green flames.

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat when the door to the compartment opened.  A tall, dirty blonde woman stood in the doorway.  Her long, straight hair was tied back and she was dressed in pale grey silk robes.

“You must be Harry.”  She said with a smile.  “Isabelle Greengrass, at your service.”

“Oh, um, yes ma’am.  Thank you for the help.”

“Think nothing of it.”  She replied as she cast several charms on Harry’s luggage.  “I approve of this subterfuge, and I’m glad to hear that the Chief Warlock is not above going outside the bounds of the law to do the right thing.  I hope you find your new living arrangements suitable.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”  Harry replied with a slight bow.

“Isabelle is fine, darling.”  One last wave of her wand and the trunk and cage melted out of view.  “Well, that concludes my business.  Those charms should wear off in a few hours.  I look forward to seeing you over the summer.  Since you won’t have access to a floo, you can take the Knight Bus.  Simply point your wand up on the side of any street to summon it.  Just tell the conductor to take you to the Greengrass estate.”

Harry nodded.  “Thank you, m- Um, Isabelle.”

“As I said, think nothing of it.  Now, you had best get going.  I know that little Tori has been a bundle of energy today, and she might explode if I take any longer.  Farewell, Harry.”

Harry donned his invisibility cloak as Isabelle left the compartment and stepped off the train.  After much fumbling about, he picked up his trunk and Hedwig’s cage, both of which had been magically lightened, and stepped out onto the platform.  He carefully weaved his way through the crowds, trying not to bump into anyone, until he was able to nudge Hermione on the shoulder.  Hermione jumped at the contact and stared… mostly at him.  It wasn’t like she could see where he was.

“Is that you, Harry?”  She whispered.

“Yep.”  He replied.

She nodded.  “Alright, let’s go, then.”

He followed her through the barrier onto the muggle side of King’s Cross Station.

Harry tensed as they walked past a very unhappy looking Dursley family.  Dudley was kicking the ground, Petunia was scoffing at the various “common rabble”, and Vernon was scowling at everything.

Still, they didn’t know he was here.  They couldn’t know he was here.  He kept walking past them until he couldn’t see them either.

Hermione walked up to an older man and woman that he didn’t recognise.  Well, he could sort of recognise them, now that he looked closer.  The woman had hair that was just as curly as Hermione’s, though it was lighter, less frizzy, and tied into a loose ponytail.  She also had Hermione’s nose, and he could see that she carried herself in a similar manner that Hermione did.

“It’s good to see you, Hermione.”  She said, pulling her into a hug.

The man shifted slightly.  His hair was straight and dark brown, but had some of the frizziness that was so prominent in Hermione’s hair.

“And what about, uh…”  He asked, audibly hesitant.

“He’s right behind me.”  Hermione said quietly.  “He’s invisible.”

He stared blankly for a second.  “Right, invisible.  Shall we go, then?”

Harry trailed behind them as they left the building for the crowded car park.  After a minute or two of walking, they approached a dark green car and opened the boot.

“Is your luggage also invisible, Harry?”  Hermione’s dad asked.

“Oh, uh, yes sir.”  Harry replied.

He let out a small huff.  “Right, can you hand it to me carefully?  I’d rather not drop it, and I don’t have any experience handling invisible luggage.”

“Yes sir.”  Harry said, guiding the handle of his trunk into Hermione’s dad’s waiting hand.

Harry watched him shift his fingers around the handle until he had a good grip on it.  “Alright, you can let go of it now.  Do you have any other luggage?”

“I have an owl, but I don’t think she should be in the trunk.”

“Definitely not.  Alright, go take a seat in the car.  I’m going to spend a few minutes making sure that this invisible trunk won’t keep the boot from latching.”

Harry did his best to get into the car without attracting any undue attention to his invisibly nature.  Once he was seated, Hermione’s mother looked around the car park.

“Okay, I think you’re clear to become visible again.”

Harry nodded before realising that no one could see him do so.  Instead, he just took off the cloak.

At that moment, Hermione’s dad entered the passenger side door.  “Okay, we’re good to go.”

Hermione’s mom started the car and began the slow process of maneuvering her way through central London traffic.

“So, you must be Harry.”  She said once they hit a red light.  “My name is Helen Granger, and this is my husband Richard.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”  Harry replied as politely as he could manage.

“Please just call me Helen.  ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel old.”

“Anyway,”  Richard said as the car started moving again.  “We’ll be establishing some basic ground rules when we get home.  Nothing complicated, just basic stuff like ‘don’t leave the house without telling us’.”

Harry nodded.  “Thank you for putting me up for the summer.”

“Think nothing of it.  Once Hermione explained the situation to us, we decided- Son of a bitch!  Use your goddamn blinker, arsehole!”  Helen shouted as she slammed her fist into the horn.  “Anyway, think nothing of it.”

“Why do I let you drive?”  Richard asked.

“Because you’re worse at it than I am.”  She retorted.

Harry did his best to take it all in.  So this was his new… family?  They were certainly… eccentric.

With one final synchronised wave of their wands, the final hyperspace fractoid manifold collapsed, undoing the last of the wards that were protecting the Philosopher’s Stone.  Perenelle wasted no time, making a beeline for the stand that once held the stone and snatching the note off of the pedestal.  As she read it over, the lines of worry slowly faded from her face.

“Well, it’s not as bad as we feared.  It is… ominous, though.”  She said as she handed the note off to Nicolas.

Dumbledore watched as his mentor read over the thief’s message.  If it wasn’t Voldemort, then…  “Who was it?”

“I have no idea.”  Nicolas replied.  “I’ve never known of any thief by this name.”

He handed the parchment to Dumbledore, who eagerly read it.

Nicolas, Perenelle, and Albus,

I’m dreadfully sorry about this, but once I got word that the stone was up for grabs, I couldn’t resist.  It’s nothing personal of course, but a prize like that is incomparable.

Regardless, I don’t want the guilt of your deaths on my conscience.  I’ll be delivering doses of the Elixir of Life to your door on a monthly basis.  No hard feelings and all that.

You won’t be able to catch me, so don’t bother trying.

I hope that our next parlay will be under better circumstances.

Pip pip cheerio,

The Masterstroke

That was… “They don’t want the guilt of your deaths on their conscience?  ‘No hard feelings’?  What sort of thief is this?”

“Certainly not your dark lord.”  Nicolas grumbled.  “Who does he think he is, anyway?”

“That’s not the point!”  Perenelle hissed.  “The point is that a complete unknown has managed to circumvent protections that we explicitly designed to be as undefeatable as possible while still seeming beatable.  Our stone has been stolen, and making a second one is… not an endeavour to be engaged in lightly.”

Nicolas sobered.  “Indeed.  A new actor has set foot upon the world’s stage, and I suspect that things are about to get far more complicated.”

Elsewhere in the world, the new actor examined his shiny new prize, the impossibly brilliant red of the Philosopher’s Stone glimmering in the candlelight.

“Pip pip cheerio indeed, old chap.  Now, let’s see what this little bauble can do.”

And the Masterstroke set about his work to determine the intricacies of the greatest achievement created by the greatest alchemist the world has ever seen.

After all, he had all the time in the world.