Halloween was a disaster, as had been predicted by Potter’s nightmare. Severus was so drained by the interruption of his sleep that even a third cup of his morning coffee failed to revitalize him, but before he could slip off to the dungeons to take one of his restorative potions from the stockroom, Albus stopped him. “You’re looking rather unwell this morning, my friend,” the Headmaster said. “Late night, perhaps? Were you brewing potions or dare I hope that you slipped out of the castle for an assignation in Hogsmeade? All work and no play, you know … at this point in your life, Severus, you should focus more on your social life.”

“I’m afraid that my duty must take precedence over such frivolities, Headmaster. If you will excuse me, I have several things to which I must attend before classes begin.”

“You will make time to attend the feast this evening, won’t you? You know how the children love it and everyone is making such an effort this year. I daresay the house elves have really outdone themselves this time, it promises to be even more delicious than last year’s feast.”

Severus hesitated for a moment and decided the risk of losing Albus’s trust by keeping information of this magnitude secret was too great. With a subtle wand gesture, he encased the two of them in a special silencing bubble – to any outsider, they would seem to be having an innocuous conversation.

“Albus,” Severus said when they had this measure of privacy, “I fear that the feast is not the only thing with which we should be concerned. Dark magic is lurking nearby and may threaten the students today.”

The Headmaster looked as though he was ready to laugh and dismiss Severus’s worries as so much melodrama. Severus raised one hand and continued, “I know I sound paranoid, Albus, but I was awakened last night to comfort Mr. Potter after a most disturbing nightmare. His scar has been bothering him of late.”

At this revelation, Albus blinked. His bright blue eyes bore an all-too-familiar shadow. “Can you be any more specific?”

Severus shook his head. “I will not betray the boy’s trust, and you would not believe me. Just be on your guard today.”

Severus did not need to mention the precious treasure even now hidden in the school, the Philosopher’s Stone that would be able to cause irreparable harm in Voldemort’s hands – Albus was well aware of the dangers associated with it. Severus would keep close watch on Quirinus Quirrell today and in the future, even though Albus’s generous trust would never condemn the man. Canceling the silencing spell, Severus spun on his heels and stalked out of the room.

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Potter was pale and listless at lunch. Snape glared at the boy and his untouched plate until Draco nudged the smaller boy. Potter looked up and Severus caught his eye. After four Occlumency sessions together, it was easy enough for him to reach out to Potter’s mental shields and brush them with the curt command to eat. It was draining to thus communicate complicated, verbalized thoughts, but an easy message was simple enough and as two minds grew more familiar with one another’s defenses and thought patterns, it became possible.

Potter nodded and looked down at his plate to comply. Severus was left to fret in silence over the sickly boy and push his own uneaten carrots around his plate with a fork. Poppy nudged him with a reminder to eat his vegetables and Quirrell on his other side was attempting to make some vapid conversation, but Severus glared them both into silence. The replenishing potions he’d taken today were wearing on him – his nerves were stretched thin and shaky and he felt as though some idiot had stuffed cotton up through his nose and into his brain.

Severus shook his head and summoned Albus’s house elf to ask for more coffee. He needed to be alert, ready to protect Harry and Draco and his other Slytherins at any moment. Quirrell had planned something that involved a troll and while Severus didn’t know the particulars, the students under his care couldn’t be allowed to come to harm due to his negligence.

Pushing aside his plate, which was now full of mangled carrots, Severus rose to leave. In his peripheral vision, he saw Potter tugging at Malfoy’s arm and gesturing towards the Head Table – not wanting to make a scene in the Great Hall, he gestured to the two boys and led them to the antechamber nearby. “What is the meaning of this, Potter? You haven’t finished your lunch and now you are mauling my godson. Do not think that you can expect any special indulgences or leniency from me.”

The boy flinched but stood his ground, one hand clasped around Draco’s upper arm. “I-I’m s-sorry, sir, but I had to tell you something and I needed Draco to help me explain.”

“Then explain, Mr. Potter, and do so without stuttering.” Severus took deep breaths and calmed his temper. Potions were no substitute for sleep and the long-term effects could prove toxic to his disposition as well as his metabolism.

Potter squeezed Draco’s arm and Severus watched the two of them. The dark-haired boy was timid and reserved but had no qualms of taking control of the situation with Draco – the Baron’s warning came to Severus’s mind. Potter did have a curious sort of strength of character to have survived and emerged from his relatives’ abuse with this spark of spirit unquenched. It was unexpected and almost amusing to watch the boy dominate his spoiled and pampered godson.

Draco cleared his throat and avoided his godfather’s gaze. “I challenged that freckle-faced Weasley boy to a duel a few months back – he was insulting Harry and Slytherins in general. I didn’t actually show up for the duel,” he said with a quick glance at his stern professor. “I told Filch to look for Gryffindors out after curfew, but he never caught them.” With a glance at Harry, Draco finished his story.

“Hermione told me about it a few weeks ago when we were studying in the library. She didn’t mean to go with Ron, she was only trying to keep him out of trouble.” Harry’s silent plea couched in his luminous eyes, asking Severus to refrain from taking retroactive points from his friend was acknowledged with a nod. Severus wasn’t about to cause the boy to lose one of his few friends over a minor infraction.

“Filch and Mrs. Norris chased them and they ran into the forbidden corridor, the one on the third floor, and they saw this huge dog there. Hermione said it even had three heads.”

Severus scowled at this evidence that the students had ignored Albus’s warning – he’d told the old man that it would be insufficient, but Albus was fixated on believing in everybody’s innate goodness. Gryffindors were such blind fools that Severus had never quite understood why they hadn’t been eliminated from the world by natural selection, but it was probably yet another proof of the worthless nature of Muggle science.

Potter continued, “Hermione said that the dog was guarding a trap door and well … Hagrid always said that Hogwarts is the safest place in the world, and he brought a small package here from Gringotts on my birthday for Dumbledore, so maybe she’s right and the dog really is guarding something.”

With a pause and a significant look at Draco, Potter leaned in to whisper to Severus. “I asked Ron today about their adventure and he showed me the door on the third floor that they found. It looks exactly like the one I saw in my dreams.”

Severus was startled to feel curls of a not-quite-unfamiliar magic coil around them. It was a somewhat distorted and rudimentary but recognizable silencing spell. The Potter boy was continuing to do accidental magic then, even when he should be exhausted from using his magic in classes. It was amazing, but then again it was yet another proof that the boy was stronger than his peers, perhaps even stronger than Severus had given him credit for being.

The curls of magic disappeared and in a louder voice, Potter said, “I-I’m sorry for not eating my lunch and everything, sir, but I thought that you should know.”

His mind whirling with the implications, Severus told him, “Yes, that was quite right. I will take care of the matter, you may be assured of that. I do want both of you to promise me that you’ll stay away from that door, and I don’t want either one of you going off on your own today, is that understood?”

After securing the boys’ promises and sending them off to their next class, Severus stood for a long moment looking at the floor where Harry had stood. Quirrell was somehow connected to Voldemort and would make an attempt on the Philosopher’s Stone today. Moreover, this frail boy in Severus’s charge, waif-like but still strong in magic and character after all that he had experienced, would be key to the whole affair. Severus wasn’t sure if anyone had even bothered to tell Harry that today was the anniversary of his parents’ deaths.

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Severus spent the day on edge, snapping at students who deserved it less than they usually did – though of course they still deserved it to some extent, the irritating brats that they were. The attack that did not come left him jittery and he was almost glad that the waiting was over. When Quirrell was absent during the beginning of the feast, he shot Draco and Harry a stern look to wordlessly remind them of their promises – Harry nodded in understanding and poked Draco in the ribs, presumably with an explanation, when the blond Slytherin didn’t understand the significance of Quirrell’s absence. From the graceless pout of Draco’s lips, Severus guessed that his godson was upset at the secret being kept from him, but Severus had no time to fret over the boy’s hurt feelings now.

When Quirrell burst into the Hall and announced that a troll was loose in the dungeons before he collapsed, Severus detained Draco and Potter from the resultant stampede, along with a fifth-year prefect. “Take the Slytherins with you to Gryffindor tower, the dungeons are unsafe now. Anyone who hexes a Gryffindor or causes trouble will suffer the consequences and several detentions with me. Draco, Potter, stay with your friend Granger and do not under any circumstances leave the others.” He pushed Draco toward the door and even in his frantic state, remembered not to push Potter. The Slytherins disappeared on the heels of the Gryffindors and Severus blended into the shadows with a favorite old spell of his, waiting and watching Quirrell.

He wasn’t surprised that the man came out of his “faint” when the Great Hall was silent, and he cast a few charms on himself in order to follow Quirrell unobtrusively. The Defense against the Dark Arts professor – who, if he was doing Voldemort’s bidding, needed a refresher course in his own subject – headed for the forbidden third floor corridor by the most direct route possible. A few silent, discreet jinxes cast by Severus prompted the magical staircases to delay the professor’s progress, but there was little else he could do until he understood the link between Quirrell and Voldemort. It would, after all, be most unwise of him to reveal his new allegiances to his former Lord this early in the game.

Quirrell fumbled the Alohomora on the locked door twice, and surely he would not have done so if the connection with the Dark Lord was very strong. Voldemort did not tolerate idiocy and must have been desperate to use the inept stuttering Quirrell as a servant – or perhaps he was still weakened by his encounter with Potter a decade or so, and couldn’t spare the energy to punish Quirrell for his incompetence.

The three-headed dog was as fearsome as Hagrid had promised, with gaping mouths, wicked teeth and hot slobber that was likely more than capable of melting through dragon scales. Quirrell dodged two of the heads, but the third forced him back toward the door. Severus had to move to prevent the idiot from bumping into him, and then one of the dog’s heads was between Severus and the door. Quirrell bolted out the door and the dog’s three heads, their dark eyes gleaming, focused on Severus – apparently his Disillusionment charm wasn’t able to fool them. Severus dodged around the head that was between him and the exit, running straight for the door and not bothering to waste time trying to spell the beast. Hagrid had informed the staff, his voice suffused with pride, that his dog was resistant to most spells.

A glob of the dog’s hot saliva fell onto his robes and Severus increased his efforts to open the door – that fool Quirrell had relocked it. Just as he had spelled it open and was running out of the room, one of the dog’s heads snapped at his leg and mauled it. Cursing the slowness of his reflexes and the potions that had slowed them, Severus stumbled through the door and slammed it behind him.

“Damn Hagrid’s breeding experiments, and damn all megalomaniac Dark Lords, and damn all the Headmasters who are foolish enough to keep priceless artifacts guarded by dangerous monsters in schools full of helpless children,” Severus muttered as he began to limp away.

Severus stopped the bleeding of his leg with a quick spell, confirmed that the other professors had successfully cornered and subdued the troll, and promised Albus an explanation before limping off to tend to his Slytherins. Draco and Potter were safe, at least – thank Salazar that they had sat quietly in the Gryffindor common room, discussing potions with Granger – but the rest of his snakes were poised to start a war with the lions. Severus ordered them to their own dormitories and to sleep, taking points from his own House for those that argued or lagged behind the others.

He spared a reassuring nod for Draco and the insufferable Potter brat who had gotten them into the entire mess, but waved them away. He hadn’t the energy to deal with either of them tonight. They obeyed him and scurried off to their dormitory, but both boys cast looks back at him. He was certain that they’d noticed his limp, but he’d deal with that tomorrow. Pushing the thought of the boys, and the strange twist he’d felt in his throat when he saw that they were in fact safe, out of his mind, he made his way to his quarters and healing and sleep.

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Meeting with Albus before breakfast with a brain not fully charged with caffeine was one of the worst ways to start a day at Hogwarts. Albus offered him a cup of coffee, to be sure, but the effects hadn’t yet begun to help Severus’s brain function when the Headmaster began his questioning. To make matters worse, the old man insisted on giving Quirrell every benefit of the doubt, refusing to even watch over him more closely. “You’ve no real proof,” was followed by “We’ve no idea what his motives were in going to the corridor, my friend. He could have feared that the troll was just a diversion and gone there in an attempt to protect the stone,” which eventually gave way to one of Albus’s favorite ploys, “Of all the people I know, Severus, you’re the one who’s most likely to understand the perils of passing summary judgment on someone when all of the evidence is not available.” As always, Severus was forced to relinquish his arguments after that, and after a sullen completion of the required niceties, he made his way to breakfast in the Great Hall in search of more caffeine.

If the lack of food, the lack of caffeine, the unsatisfactory meeting with Albus, and the pain in his leg were not sufficient torment, Severus was confronted by the Potter boy just outside the Great Hall. The boy was standing there, for once without Draco by his side, a calculating expression on his face as he watched Severus limp down the hallway. Severus glared at the little brat who dared to study his weakness. “Don’t you have other things to do, Potter? You should be elsewhere, preferably breakfast.”

“It’s not started yet, sir.”

“Elsewhere, then. Is that too difficult a concept to grasp, or shall I remove five points from Slytherin for loitering in the hallways?”

The boy flinched at Severus’s tone of voice but stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Of all of the times the Bloody Baron had to be right, it would have to be about the hidden strength of this insufferable brat, but why did the boy feel compelled to demonstrate it today of all days?

“You were hurt because of what I told you, b-because of what I saw in that dream.”

“That is none of your business, Potter. Five points from Slytherin and get out of my sight.” Severus leaned all of his weight on his good leg, schooling his expression to betray no trace of the pain that he felt, and glared at the impudent boy who kept him standing there.

Potter took a deep breath and Severus felt the crackle of the boy’s magic building in the air. “S-Sorry, sir, but it is my business, since it was my f-fault, you see.”

Severus opened his mouth to berate the child, to stop him from executing whatever stupidity he had planned, but Potter was quicker, darting forward and placing both of his hands on Severus’s injured leg. The crackle of magic intensified and Severus stared down at the boy. Potter looked tiny crouched down next to Severus, his face was pale and sweat beaded on his brow. Severus held his breath, not wanting to break the boy’s concentration lest something dreadful befall his leg. The crackle of magic came to a crescendo and then faded. Potter stumbled away from him, face pale and eyes closed.

“You foolish, idiot boy,” Severus said. His voice crackled with anger and for once he didn’t try to moderate his tone for the abused boy. “How dare you attempt such a thing? How dare you take such liberties with a professor? Do you even realize what harm you could have done? I’ll have you in detention for so long that you’ll be raising your children there. I’ll have you expelled for this, boy.”

Potter trembled and shrank away from him. Severus wasn’t finished. “Do you think that your fame enables you to do anything you like? Do you think that you will be catered to, your every whim satisfied, because of your unfortunate past? Or are you simply so bigheaded and foolish that you think that the world revolves around you and your insignificant, meaningless desires?”

Severus paused to take a deep breath. So angry that he could barely see the small boy cringing before him, he continued his tirade. “You were wrong on all three counts, Potter. Let me explain your place in the universe to you, since you’ve turned the head of everyone else with your undeserved celebrity and your pathetic appeals for undeserved pity. You won’t get the truth from them, Potter, but you’ll certainly get it from me. You surely didn’t think that I’d been won over by your sob story, that I’d become one of your little fans willing to wait on you hand and foot and treat your every word as revealed truth – you surely didn’t think that I actually liked you, did you, boy?”

Severus advanced on the boy until Potter was pressed into a wall and then he pushed further into the boy’s personal space, leaning down to glare into his eyes, unaware of the trembling he was causing. “You are nothing, Potter,” he said into the boy’s face. “You are a stupid, arrogant little boy who needs to ignore his over-inflated ego and meaningless thoughts and instead learn to obey the adults around him, who are trained, competent, intelligent, useful – everything that you are not, you stupid little boy. You are a waste of space here at Hogwarts, dirty little half-blood, and since you didn’t have the wit or grace to die with your filthy parents, the best thing would be for you to return to your filthy Muggle relatives and stop wasting the oxygen here. You think that your magic puts you above them, you arrogant little snot, but you should be grateful that anyone was willing to care for a pathetic little weakling like you and you should beg them on your knees to take you back.”

Severus took a deep breath to calm his angry trembling. The utter, unmitigated gall of the boy had pushed him past reason – he wanted to grab the boy and physically shake some sense into him, wanted to injure him and then expose him to the vagaries of healing by accidental magic. The little brat had the nerve to sniffle and shake as though it had been Severus who had hurt him, and not the brat who had endangered Severus’s life. Severus reached out to grab Potter’s shoulder, but someone behind him grabbed his arm and held him back. He turned to look at the offender, ready to lash out at them for disturbing his vengeance on the idiot boy who’d risked his life, but it was Draco.

“Please stop, Uncle Sev,” his godson said. Draco looked dreadful, his Malfoy poise abandoned as public tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Please don’t do this anymore.”

Draco never cried and Draco never begged for anything – he never had throughout the eleven years of his life. Severus let his arm fall away from Potter and turned to comfort his godson. He spared the Potter brat one last glance, said, “Get out of my sight, boy,” and then focused on Draco.

“What’s wrong, Draco? Who has hurt you?” Severus reached out to touch his shoulder, but the slim boy flinched away.

“You have,” he said without meeting Severus’s gaze, and he fled down the corridor after Potter.