Harry wished he could forget what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised some time ago, but he couldn't. He began having nightmares.
He had recurring nightmares of his parents disappearing in a flash of green light while a high-pitched voice laughed malevolently. At least he believed they were nightmares, but they often felt like hallucinations at times, moments when he was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. He saw the student joy around him, the group of friends, the teachers walking by, and even the sounds of house-elves working through the internal walls' corridors. Despite his attention being focused on his surroundings, images of his parents' murder clouded his vision, tormenting him little by little. Memories that a child his age shouldn't have with such complexity of understanding: his mother becoming paranoid in her isolation, his father absent when he went out with his three friends.
As a child, Harry wouldn't understand the complexities of all this, but his mind was sharpened from the age of seven to know and understand everything around him. He understood that his father loved him based on the games he played with that child's broomstick, how the friends laughed and played when they transformed into a rat, a dog, and another who stayed in the corner reading a book while smiling at the friends' interaction. He understood how his mother always smiled happily around him but falsely around his father, how whenever he chose to leave isolation with his friends, she would return to her study of the occult, reading, murmuring, seeking answers, and becoming paranoid day by day, especially when one night she appeared covered in blood and his father finally stopped leaving the safe house. How he looked at his mother strangely every time she raised her voice, as if he no longer saw the woman he fell in love with but a warrior bearing all the responsibilities of their child's safety, while the other just tried to live and enjoy life as he always had.
There was no need for judgment or taking sides; both were so young and recently graduated from Hogwarts, with their own dreams and ambitions. The father, a Quidditch star, and the mother, a Triwizard Champion, one aiming for the popularity and fame the sport would bring, and the other seeking the knowledge and power the government prohibited, being one of the most powerful witches of the Contemporary Era, and especially, the most feared witch by the Death Eaters, newly responsible for the annihilation of the entire inner circle of the Dark Lord, who lost more than half of his armed forces in a single night.
They were memories, flashes, everything a child saw in the closest bond in their life, everything a child shouldn't worry about or understand. But Harry did understand when he saw day after day his beloved mother evolving in power and becoming even more paranoid, merging the memories of an innocent little child with a cursed fragment of something that was obtained in a tragedy that took the lives of both parents and ended the wizarding war.
Dumbledore was indeed right, as much as he was a true liar and manipulator in Harry's eyes. He was powerful and very wise because now seeing how he was acting, how he was delving into an occult study in the Hogwarts library in isolation, Harry could really notice that something was forcibly inducing him to protect an object that wasn't even his and he was becoming more and more paranoid and focused on something he didn't even know, just like his mother during her peak and downfall.
- See? Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad. - Said Ron when Harry told him about the dreams, and as much as Harry was very patient with the innocence and tantrums of children, it really annoyed him the tone of superiority the little boy seemed to convey with something that was clearly harming Harry.
Harry was so far from finding any connection between Nicolau Flamel and Niklaus that he just started to set it aside and didn't care anymore. His mind was shaping day by day, night by night based on his study and photographic memory that consumed everything inside the Hogwarts library. Even the air of superiority of the redhead he thought of calling a friend was something he had already stopped trying to force in his own opinion. He wouldn't be an intermediary between him and Hermione, and he knew that sooner or later they would drift apart, just as many had done in the No-mag society.
Harry had even less time than the other two, both because of his work in the library, the Quidditch training that resumed after their brilliant game, and because Potter had many responsibilities from his divergent title to which Minerva would give him topics and book titles to study about magical society.
Oliver was pushing the team like never before. Even the endless rains that replaced the snow couldn't dampen his enthusiasm. The Weasley twins complained that their captain was becoming fanatical, but Harry supported him. Besides the desire to win, Harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he returned exhausted from training.
Then, during a particularly rainy and muddy practice, Oliver gave the team some bad news. He had just gotten furious with the Weasley twins, who were making violent dives at each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.
- Will you stop behaving like idiots! - The captain shouted. - This is the kind of attitude that will make us lose the game! Snape is refereeing this time, and he'll look for any excuse to take points from Gryffindor."
George Weasley really fell off his broom upon hearing this.
- Snape is refereeing the game? - He asked, slurring his words with a mouth full of mud. - When has he ever refereed a Quidditch game? He won't be unbiased if we have a chance to overtake Slytherin. - The rest of the team landed beside George to complain as well.
- It's not my fault. - Said Oliver. - We'll just have to take care and play a clean game to not give Snape any excuse to mess with us. - Everything was fine, Harry thought, but he had another reason not to want Snape around when he was playing Quidditch. Quirrell was always shadowing the professor as if trying to engage him in conversation, but the Potions Master practically drove him away like a plague, and this bothered Harry a lot.
His scar always hurt excruciatingly near this man, his senses alerted him to danger, and that feeble, stuttering demeanor didn't fool Harry. Something Harry thought Dumbledore was beginning to suspect as well, because his eyes, though obscured by his half-moon glasses, now always seemed focused on Hogwarts' stammerer, as if expecting him to strike in the Great Hall itself, thus always being ready to react immediately. This was indicated by Harry noticing that one of Albus's hands was always hidden by the sleeve of his robes, undoubtedly gripping his wand.
The other players lingered chatting at the end of practice as they always did, but Harry headed straight to the Gryffindor common room, where he found Ron and Hermione playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermione lost at, an experience Harry thought did her a lot of good, as it kept her more humble, and he had been planning a way to educate the bossy girl. As much as he found the cute little girl's tantrums amusing, in the long run, it would look bad, and a spoiled teenager was certainly something he didn't want around.
- Don't talk to me right now. - Ron requested when Harry intended to take a shower. - I need to concentrate. - He said just to see Harry's face.
- What happened to you? You look horrible. - Hermione asked, grabbing his wrist and showing that she wanted him to stay there. Speaking quietly so no one else could hear, Harry told them both about Snape's sinister and sudden desire to be the Quidditch referee. - Don't play. - Hermione said immediately.
- Say you're sick. - Ron advised.
- Pretend you broke your leg - Hermione suggested.
- Break your leg for real. - Ron insisted.
- I can't. - Harry replied. - We don't have a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor won't be able to play.
At that moment, Neville stumbled into the common room.
How he managed to get through the portrait hole, no one knew, because his legs were stuck together by what they immediately recognized as the Leg-Locker Curse. He must have had to hop like a bunny all the way to the Gryffindor tower.
Everyone burst out laughing, except Hermione and Harry, the girl stood up in a flash and performed the counter-curse. Neville's legs separated, and he stood up, trembling.
- What happened? - Hermione asked, leading him to sit with Harry.
- Malfoy. - Neville said in a shaky voice. - I met him outside the library. He said he was looking for someone to practice that spell on.
- Go see Professor McGonagall! - Hermione insisted. - It's against the rules to use spells in the corridors.
- I don't want any more trouble. - He murmured, shaking his head.
- You've got to stand up to him, Neville. - Harry said. - He's used to walking all over people, but there's no reason for you to lie down and make it easier for him, or it will never stop. Running away will just give him more reasons to target you.
- You don't need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor. Draco's already done that. - Neville said, choking up.
Harry patted his pocket and pulled out a chocolate frog, the last one from the box Hermione had given him for Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked like he was about to cry.
- You're worth twelve of him. - Harry said. - The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? We just need to train you to beat up the bullies. - Neville's mouth twisted into a tiny smile as he unwrapped the frog.
- Thanks, Harry. I think I'll go to bed... Do you want the card? You collect them, don't you?
When Neville walked away, Harry looked at the card:
- Dumbledore again. He was the first who... - And he let out an exclamation. He looked at the back of the card. Then, he looked at Ron and Hermione. - Holy crap. I found Flamel... I told you I'd read his name somewhere. I read it on the train on the way here. Listen to this:
Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of Gellert Grindelwald, the Dark Lord, in 1945, for discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and for his work in alchemy in partnership with Nicolas Flamel, the last living member of his extensive family tree," Harry said, and Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't seemed so excited since they had received their first homework grades.
- Don't leave! - She said and dashed upstairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange a puzzled look before she was running back, carrying a huge old book.
- I never thought to look here. - She said excitedly. - I got it from the restricted section weeks before the Christmas holidays to distract myself a bit.
- To distract? - Ron marveled, but Hermione told him to be quiet as she searched for something and began flipping through the pages of the book, anxious, muttering to herself.
Finally, she found what she was looking for.
- I knew it! I knew it. - She said, elated.
- Can we talk now? - Ron asked grumpily.
Hermione didn't answer him, turning instead to Harry.
- Nicolau Flamel. - She whispered theatrically. - He is known to be the only person to produce the Philosopher's Stone.
The sentence didn't quite have the effect she expected. Harry already knew this; his focus was the connection with Niklaus, which seemed it couldn't be just a brother or relative, since Nicolau Flamel appeared to be the last of his lineage.
- Look, read this. - She pushed the book to the two of them, who read:
"The ancient study of alchemy was concerned with the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with amazing powers. The stone can transform any metal into pure gold with a touch. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which grants immortality to whoever drinks it.
There has been much talk of the Philosopher's Stone through the centuries, but the only Stone that exists belongs to Mr. Nicolau Flamel, the famous alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, leads a quiet life away from the public eye, a choice made since the last of his lineage was assassinated in the late 1950s. Along with his wife, Perenell, aged six hundred and fifty-eight, both disappeared from magical society after saying farewell to their last student, the famous Magizoologist Newt Scamander."
The book also contained an illustration of an elderly and frail-looking man, but it was his eyes that caught Harry's attention.
Eyes he had only seen once before. So, with a triumphant smile, it seemed he had finally found the answer that needed to be proven.
- "Yes, very old, but he looks like the man who gave me the suitcase... Yeah, those eyes are unmistakable." - Harry thought as a cracking sound echoed in his ears, his eyes widening at the conclusion forming in his mental map, connecting everything to the day he boarded the train. Theories formed rapidly as if he were under some sort of narcotic that prevented him from using all his reasoning to get the answer he wanted. - "So Percy was right; there really is an intention spell that hinders mental senses on the third floor, making your mind cloudy or lose focus and not think straight about what relates to Nicolau Flamel? Or at least what involves him that is currently in the forbidden corridor Dumbledore warned about at the start of the school year." - Harry laughed audibly, to the confusion of the two beside him, where only Hermione noticed that Harry seemed to be drawing conclusions at high speed just as she did. - "Yes, I have to agree it's a brilliant magic technique, maybe I wouldn't have such clarity if Hermione hadn't shown this information, which is why all the books about an important figure in alchemy simply disappeared from a library as famous as Hogwarts' and everything I can discover about him seems to stay in the background in my mind as if it didn't matter and I got distracted by something trivial. Dumbledore is good, but I guess no one is perfect, and Hermione doesn't even know she just gave me all the answers. Quirrell is indeed after what is on the third floor, the Philosopher's Stone. Snape is one of the guardians, as is Hagrid, who provided a powerful magical beast that has to be fed every night, sometimes leading to accidents, because as cute as it is, it's still an S-class magical beast. Maybe it's just a way to draw attention with that warning from the old man during the sorting, along with the spell on the third floor that makes all adventurous students confused to stay away from the place. The real enemy would be the only one to keep moving around there since if he's so powerful, a mere spell wouldn't stop him, and that's where the real trap lies, as it would focus on how to get past the Cerberus and also find ways to overcome the next stages. That's why Quirrell is trying to befriend Severus, to gain an advantage in the upcoming challenges."
- "It could be any professor if I were thinking like an innocent eleven-year-old, but Severus is special in this context. Minerva is too loyal to Albus and an incredible friend to not inform him of a mere staff member seeking to know what was on the third floor. Filius is too powerful not to question whether he wouldn't use his exceptional dueling skills and Goblin brutality to contain an imminent danger, and the others, clearly seen from the outside now, Albus kept a close watch on them since the beginning of the classes, as if looking for suspicious actions from them. Well, at least until I unwrapped Quirrell's turban during the Quidditch match, because those eyes really shone with ancient knowledge, and suddenly his focus on the other staff ended, it was something to theorize that maybe he suspected everyone and was in a process of selecting who really wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone, situated below the trapdoor, which surely must have some layered traps to send them to the underground." -Harry thought rapidly, ignoring his friends calling him, as he was currently seated in an armchair in his mental landscape, forming a library of his own with all the knowledge acquired from his photographic memory, finally formed in full potential and fixed organization. - "Yes, layers of defenses not as dangerous as a perilous Cerberus, something only superficial to attract attention and send the enemy further below, thus reaching Flamel's artifact, where surely Albus could confront him in full power without worrying about the students, who would be protected by the staff, and the place of confrontation deep enough in the castle for the spell's area of effect not to hit any innocent, yes... Hogwarts is truly the safest place in the world, not because it's invulnerable or perfect, but because it's extremely difficult to escape once inside, especially with the most powerful wizard of the Contemporary Era as the headmaster of the castle." - Harry thought with a laugh. - "Yeah, whatever this Wizard is trying to do to become a new Dark Lord, as long as Dumbledore keeps an eye on him, everything will be fine. I don't need to be an intrusive child who will only mess things up and allow a criminal to escape, even if everything has been so boring lately."
- See? - Said Hermione, when Harry finished his long reasoning and laughed at the director's genius, which to anyone else would seem like a senile old man putting students in danger, having a trio of incapable and meddlesome students having to step in to protect a castle that was already protected. - The Cerberus must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe because they're friends and he knew someone was after it. That's why Dumbledore wanted to move the stone from Gringotts, an extremely secure place, but why bring it to a school full of students?
- Traps, Hermione. Hogwarts is safe, but it surely has breaches or ways in and out, because we're in a castle, and castles commonly have escape tunnels in case of emergencies, thus attracting whoever wanted to steal the stone and bringing the enemy directly to a place where Albus usually reigns in full power. In other words, as long as Albus is at Hogwarts, he will be in control of all this. - Harry explained to the girl, who had a sparkle in her eyes from the explanation. - Anyway, now that we're done with the world conspiracy theories and attempts to steal relics, I think I'll take a shower. I'm sweaty and I have a good date waiting for me. - Harry said, standing up, only now noticing that the girl had used him as a pillow and nestled in his lap.
- I-I don't mind. - Hermione said quietly under Ron's strange look.
- But I do. - Harry said with a smile, kissing the top of the girl's head. - Better to smell good than to stink. That way, I don't scare any girls away from me. - And so he went up to his dormitory, where he could finally take a shower and relax his mind after such logical reasoning and the feeling of relief from not having his mind confused or anything like that for longer.
[ ... ]
The next morning, in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, while copying the different ways to treat werewolf bites, Harry and Ron continued to discuss what they would do with a Philosopher's Stone if they had one. Only when Ron said he would buy his own Quidditch team did Harry remember Snape and the upcoming match, and how the girl he met last night motivated him in a way his young friends weren't ready to hear about his exploits.
- I'm going to play. - He said to Ron and Hermione. - If I don't, the Slytherin people will think I'm afraid to face Snape... besides, Quirrell will definitely be there, so I'll show him that I'm not easily intimidated and if necessary, I'll just beat everyone up and chaos will spread easily.
- We'll wipe that smile off their faces if we win. - Harry said with a confident smile, promptly hearing:
- As long as we don't end up pulling you off the field. - Hermione said.
- But I have my little genius arsonist, who can set fire to all the staff at Hogwarts and even the headmaster, right, darling? - Harry pretended to flirt, causing the girl to blush.
As the match approached, Harry was getting increasingly nervous, even though he denied it to Ron and Hermione. The rest of the team wasn't that calm either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the House Cup was wonderful; no one had done that in almost seven years, but could they manage with such a biased referee?
Harry didn't know if he was imagining it or not, but it seemed he kept running into Snape everywhere he went. Sometimes, he even wondered if Snape was following him, trying to catch him alone for a chat or whatever, but the professor was surprisingly showing an affection for him that was even funny, based on what he discovered that Severus and his father practically hated each other in the past.
However, Harry always avoided him because Quirrell would appear at every corner with that stuttering and irritating tone of his, and the headache was imminent in his presence.
Harry knew that when they wished him good luck at the locker room door the next afternoon, Ron and Hermione would be wondering if they would see him alive again. That wasn't what you could call comforting. Harry barely heard a word of Oliver's pep talk to the players as he put on his Quidditch uniform and grabbed his Nimbus 2000.
Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had found a spot in the stands next to Neville, who couldn't understand why they looked so serious and why they had brought their wands to the game. Harry didn't know that Ron and Hermione had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They got the idea after seeing Draco use it on Neville and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to harm Harry, and on Malfoy if he threatened Neville.
However, they didn't know that Harry had given Malfoy a good moral lesson, making him disappear from his sight for a long time, along with his cronies, who now really showed fear of approaching him.
- Now don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis. - Hermione whispered while Ron hid the wand up his sleeve.
- I know! - Ron replied grumpily. - Don't nag.
At the same moment this conversation was happening, Harry sighed heavily as he felt Oliver pull him aside:
- I don't want to put pressure on you, Potter, but if there's a day we need to catch the Snitch right away, it's today. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much.
- The whole school is out there! - Said Fred, peeking out the door. - Even, oh my, Dumbledore came to watch.
Harry could have let out a great laugh of relief. He didn't like the old man, but he knew of his power. That meant he was safe; there was simply no way Quirrell would dare harm him if Dumbledore was watching.
Maybe that was why Quirrell seemed so angry, hiding from the other professors in a corner.
But Snape was the same, and Harry was beginning to suspect that something bad might happen.
- I've never seen Snape look so ugly. - Hermione said, wondering if she would have to use her sadistic side again and set the professor's robes on fire.
- Look, it started. Ow! - Someone poked Ron in the head. It was Draco.
- Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn't see you there. - Draco gave a wide smile to Crabbe and Goyle. - How long do you think Potter will stay on his broom this time? Anyone want to bet? What about you, Weasley? - Ron didn't answer, as Snape had just found a penalty against Gryffindor because George had hit a Bludger at him and was almost falling off his broom from laughing so hard at the Potions Master's furious face.
Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, kept her eyes fixed on Harry, who was circling over the players like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.
- You know how I think they pick players for the Gryffindor team? - Draco said loudly a few minutes later when Snape applied another penalty against Gryffindor for no reason. - They pick people who get pity. See, Potter, who doesn't have parents, then the Weasleys, who have no money. You should be on the team too, Longbottom, you don't have any brains. - Neville turned very red but faced Draco.
- I'm worth twelve of you, Malfoy. - Neville said, reciting what Harry always said about having self-worth because if you depend on others' opinions, you're screwed.
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle rolled with laughter, but Ron, who still couldn't take his eyes off the game, said:
- That's right, stand up to him, Neville.
- Longbottom, if brains were gold, you'd be poorer than Weasley, and that's saying something.
Hermione's nerves were already stretched to the limit with worry for Harry, and the kids around her making a scene weren't helping.
- I'm warning you, Draco... One more word...
- Ron! - Hermione suddenly said, interrupting him. - Harry! - She pointed in the distance.
- What? Where? - He asked, seeing Harry unexpectedly take a spectacular dive, causing exclamations and cheers from the crowd for the suicidal boy who always acted like he didn't care about his life when he entered the field, putting on a show of maneuvers in the process. Hermione stood up, her fingers crossed over her mouth, as Harry shot towards the ground like a bullet.
- You're in luck, Weasley. Potter definitely spotted money on the ground. - Draco said, laughing childishly.
Ron reacted. Before Draco knew what was happening, Ron lunged at him and knocked him to the ground.
Neville initially hesitated, but then jumped over the back of the chair to help, landing a solid punch on Crabbe's nose.
- Go, Harry! - Hermione shouted, jumping onto the chair to watch Harry hurtling towards Snape. She didn't even notice that Draco and Ron were tangled up under her chair, pulling each other's hair and scratching each other's faces, nor did she notice the dragged feet and yells coming from the whirlwind of punches that was Neville, Crabbe, and Goyle, where the smaller boy insisted on continuing to hit them, much to their shock, as they hadn't seen the supposed outcast so serious and angry, preventing them from getting up and subduing the uncontrolled smaller boy who fought with his whole body. This would later be known among the Slytherin first years as Longbottom's fury mode, where despite taking some hits, he returned ten clumsy punches that proved quite effective.
High above, Snape abruptly turned his broom to avoid being run over by the suicidal Potter, who laughed as the wind effect tore the Potions Master's cloak, just in time to see a red object whiz past him, missing him by inches. The next second, Harry came out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch held in his hand.
The stands exploded; it must have been a record. No one could remember the Snitch being caught so quickly, and much less threatened to crash so quickly into a professor, especially Hogwarts' bat.
- Ron! Ron! Where are you? The match is over! Harry won! We won! Gryffindor is ahead! - Hermione screamed, jumping from the chair to the ground and then to the chair, hugging Parvati in the front row.
Harry jumped off the broom before reaching the ground. He couldn't believe it. He had caught the Snitch. The game was over; it hadn't even lasted five minutes. As Gryffindor stormed the field, he saw Snape land nearby with what seemed like a slight tremor in his legs and relief for finally being on solid ground, his face white and lips tight. Then Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, looked up, and saw Dumbledore's smiling face.
- Very well. - Dumbledore said softly, so only Harry could hear. - It's good to see that you haven't been dwelling on that mirror... and once again, I apologize for everything that happened. I was worried that the mirror could affect you so negatively as to cause an accident today, but I see you're stronger than I am in not letting such a thing influence you.
- There's still much to be resolved, but let's leave that for the end of the school year. For now, enjoy your classes, and I'll take care of the rest. - Harry didn't know if he was talking about his struggles the night he confided about his childhood or if it was about Quirrell, but in some way, it seemed to be both.
Snape spat bitterly on the ground when he saw Potter winking at him, under the laughter of the other professors who could already see a new rivalry emerging between the two. Snape turned with his cloak dramatically billowing in the process, stylish as it was, now covered in mud and grass.
From behind, Harry couldn't see, but Severus allowed a slight smile at the boy's audacity, and at least this seemed to be winning over the professor who never thought he'd consider the offspring of his tormentor as anything more than a student. There was a certain affection for how Harry acted maturely, unlike his spoiled father when he was a student at this castle. It was hard to hate someone with a personality identical to the only woman Severus ever loved, even if the appearance was unfortunately like his father's.
[ ... ]
Harry left the locker room alone some time later, to take his Nimbus 2000 back to the garage. He couldn't remember feeling more euphoric; adrenaline was really his weakness, making his heart race. He had now done something he could be proud of. No one could say anymore that he was just a famous name or privileged by the professors, especially since it was the second time he had shown true skill and not just luck. The night air had never felt sweeter. He walked barefoot through the damp grass, as he always enjoyed doing, looking up at the starry sky, which was very different from what was seen in the No-mag society.
Harry reached the garage. He leaned against the wooden door and contemplated Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red from the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. He had done it. He showed Snape... he showed that he could be as smart as he was athletic in Quidditch, although he was already thinking of it as a unique adventure this year. He didn't want to dedicate all his efforts to the sport, just honor something in the name of his deceased father and move on with life.
Whatever the Potions Master's grudge with his appearance was, Harry took pride in getting acceptable attention from the professor ever since he had participated in potion-making and assignments, especially after Harry had healed his leg with an advanced spell.
Speaking of Snape:
A hooded figure was swiftly descending the steps at the castle's entrance. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it moved as quickly as it could towards the Forbidden Forest. Harry's victory faded from his mind as he watched.
He recognized the predatory stride of the figure. Snape, slipping into the forest while everyone else was at dinner, what was happening?
Harry mounted his Nimbus 2000 and took flight, not out of a desire to meddle in the professor's life, but to maintain that adrenaline rush, one of the few things that made him feel truly alive.
Gliding silently over the castle, he saw Snape running into the forest.
He followed. The trees were so close together that he couldn't see where Snape had gone. He flew in ever-lowering circles, skimming the treetops until he heard voices. He glided toward them and landed silently in a tall birch.
He carefully climbed onto one of the branches, holding onto the broom, trying to peer through the leaves.
Below, in the shadowy clearing, was Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was with him. Harry couldn't make out the expression on his face, but his stutter was worse than ever.
Harry strained his ears to understand what they were saying and to confirm his suspicions about the turbaned professor.
- ... I don't know why you wanted to meet here, Severus..."
- Oh, I wanted to keep the meeting private. - Snape said, his voice icy. - After all, the students mustn't know about the Philosopher's Stone. - Harry leaned forward.
Quirrell stammered something.
Snape interrupted him:
- Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's? - Severus asked presumptuously as if he knew all the stuttering man's evil plans.
- B... B... But, Severus, I...
- You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell. - Snape threatened, stepping closer to him.
- I... I... I don't know what you...
- You know perfectly well what I mean. - An owl hooted loudly, and Harry nearly fell out of the tree. He steadied himself in time to hear Snape say:
- ... Your phony magic. I'm waiting.
- B... But I n... N... Never...
- Very well! - Snape interrupted. - We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie.
Throwing the cloak over his head, he left the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harry could make out Quirrell, standing very still as if petrified.
However, just when Harry thought Quirrell was being used and was the victim of the situation, when his mind started to suspect Severus as if he was trying to manipulate the professor into this, when Harry turned to leave with the idea that Snape was indeed the villain, he could finally hear:
- "Milord... Calm yourself, it seems he is still loyal to you and our cause." - Quirrell said with a serious expression never seen before, causing Harry's scar to throb painfully. This made him leave immediately, with the turbaned professor looking toward his former location.
[ ... ]
- Harry, where have you been? - Hermione asked in a high-pitched voice.
- We won! You won! We won! - Ron shouted, patting Harry on the back. - And I gave Draco a black eye, and Neville managed to break Crabbe's and Goyle's noses on his own! He's still in the infirmary, but Madame Pomfrey says he'll be fine."
- That's what I call showing Slytherin. Everyone's waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Fred and George stole some cakes and other goodies from the kitchens.
- Forget that. - Harry said, out of breath and massaging his forehead. - Let's find an empty room, wait till you hear this... - He checked to see if Peeves wasn't in the room before closing the door, then told his friends what he had seen and heard.
- So we were right, it's the Philosopher's Stone, and Snape is trying to force Quirrell to help him steal it. He asked if he knew how to get past Fluffy, and said something about Quirrell's magic. I imagine there are other things protecting the stone besides Fluffy, a bunch of spells, probably, and Quirrell must have done some counter-curse that Snape needs to get in... - Ron recounted everything.
- You mean the Stone is only safe as long as Quirrell resists Snape? - Hermione asked, alarmed.
- No, Hermione, more than anything, now I totally believe Quirrell might be pretending to be a defenseless lamb to steal the stone. I'm not entirely sure about Severus, but the real danger is definitely Quirrell.
- But... none of this makes any sense after everything you said. - Hermione said, completely puzzled.
- Listen carefully... When Snape left, the air seemed to grow darker, and Quirrell said:
- "Milord... Calm yourself, it seems he is still loyal to you and our cause."
- That's why I got out of there as quickly as I could. My scar felt like it was on fire, and I was about to lose consciousness... And he seemed to be talking to someone... but there was no one there. - Harry said, sitting down in an armchair.
- Harry! This is bad. - Hermione said, looking at him intently. - Milord... Doesn't that remind you of anything? - She finally said, with everyone staring at what she was referring to.
- What the heck is this now? - Harry said, confused by everything, where every time he got an answer, ten more questions emerged in the process. - It was supposed to be just an ambitious wizard wanting to become a new Dark Lord, not a dead Dark Lord coming back.
Whatever was going to happen, Hagrid was right. They were getting into really big things, and he was starting to think it was time to back off, or he would end up in a chess game and not be able to get out.
And with that, I conclude the fourteenth chapter of Changed Prophecy.
I hope you are enjoying it, and don't forget to comment.
Little by little, things are clearing up, with Harry understanding more, Neville becoming braver, and Draco more annoying.
I'm trying to fill in the gaps I feel the original author of the books left, where in the canonical work we had an innocent view of things, and here we see something more mature, where Harry notices spells in the corridor and how complex it is to keep students away, how the mirror can affect him negatively if he is weak-minded, and how Harry tries not to judge Severus directly, but things don't seem so innocent.
And above all, even with his desire for adrenaline, Harry knows he shouldn't meddle too much, as he isn't a hero, and the responsibility lies with Albus to protect his students.
Comment with criticisms, opinions, and ideas, just don't become ghost readers who disappear and never say anything. I look forward to seeing you all in the comment section.