"Well personally, I think it's very exciting. Even if the two of you don't." Hermione's voice carried through the stacks of the library. They had been in there for hours, it seemed, and his friend was not losing any steam.

She and Ron had discovered exactly what Nicholas Flammel was famous for several days ago, during his most recent stay in the dungeons. Harry felt bad that they were doing all the work in his absence, but Hermione had waved his worries away, saying they were "nonsense", and Ron had replied that it was "every man for himself. If I could get out of this torture I would. Maybe I ought to start visiting Snape in the dungeons. Anything would be better than this!"

Harry suspected that Ron was secretly enjoying it all. He kept these suspicions to himself, however.

"Are we almost done here Hermione? Really, how much more do we need to know about this stone thing anyway? We know who made it, we know what it does..." Ron didn't get to finish his thought, however, before Hermione cut in with,

"Yes, and now all we need to know is why Dumbledore has it and why does he have it so closely guarded. Obviously he's trying to protect it, but from what?"

‘More like ‘who'.' Harry scribbled. ‘If this thing really does make you live forever, anybody would want it!'

"Well it's not like they're about to get past that dog, are they?" Ron replied, while Hermione piped in,

"I have to wonder - is Dumbledore just trying to prevent students from causing trouble if they find the stone, or if he suspects one of the professors?"

The question stunned Harry for a moment. He had never even considered a professor. His professors were good people. At least they were supposed to be. Hagrid's warning that first day in Diagon Alley came back to him in a rush - not all wizards are good.

A cold feeling settled over him, and he glanced up to find Hermione making a list.

"Any good mystery includes everyone as a suspect until they can be eliminated. So we make a list with the names of all the professors and eliminate them one by one."

"But it's not enough just to eliminate the good ones," Ron stated. Hermione stared at him a moment, mouth agape.

"It isn't?"

"Well no. I mean what if you have 5 people on the list. One of them you know nothing about, so you can't eliminate them. Two of the others have been witnessed kissing you-know-who's arse. That's not really fair, is it?"

"Well nooooo." Hermione chewed on the end of her quill thoughtfully.

‘Besides,' Harry added to his own parchment, ‘it's innocent until proven guilty. Not the other way around.'

"Well why don't we approach it this way - we'll add everyone to the list, eliminate them when we can, and add any incriminating information as well."

Ron agreed and Hermione looked pleased. Harry was saved by having to respond by the appearance of their head of house in the common room.

And that's how he found himself in the infirmary two hours later, with McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey standing over him.

He didn't like it, it reminded him far too much of the day of the attack. In fact, it only got worse when he looked up to see Snape walking through the door. Harry found himself filled with apprehension, even though he knew he had no real reason to be. He couldn't help but flick his eyes at the gown cupboard in remembrance before closing his eyes and trying to calm himself.

"There is no cause for apprehension, Mr. Potter. I understand that this is just a routine checkup regarding your previous injuries."

The use of his surname, something Snape had dropped unless he was trying to make a strong point, caused Harry to open his eyes in questions and curiosity. What have I done now?

His teacher must have seen the question on his face, as he rolled his eyes and simply stated, "Sometimes a little professional decorum is required. It would do you well to take note."

Harry could only mimic the man's eye roll back at him.

"Now let's check your throat, shall we Mr. Potter?" Harry watched as the mediwitch waved her wand around his throat, murmuring spells while she did so. Finally she lowered her wand and smiled at him. "Everything seems well healed, but let's just have a look. Open up."

He opened his mouth and tried not to gag as Madame Pomfrey pressed down on his tongue with a stick. His heart began to race. He was healed? What did that mean? Would everything change now? Snape probably wouldn't want him around now. He had only been looking out for Harry because he was sick and hurt. And maybe a little because he was scared. But if he was better now and the boys were no longer at Hogwarts, then maybe he was supposed to be over everything.

The thought made him uncomfortable, although he couldn't quite put his finger on why. All he knew was that he was healed, and he wasn't happy about it.

"Well, you're right as rain Mr. Potter. Time for everyone to hear that voice of yours again. Give it a go."

With a big gulp, he opened his mouth. It was going to be a simple hello, but no sound came out.

Everyone was staring at him.

"Well, Mr. Potter, don't keep everyone waiting."

He tried again, but the only thing achieved was pain in his throat. That was odd - the pain had been gone for several weeks now.

"What's the problem, Potter?" Snape asked.

All he could do was shake his head and point at his throat. His teacher just heaved a sigh and asked "Madame Pomfrey, would you take another look at the boy's throat?"

"I don't see how it would make a difference..." she muttered, but it didn't stop her from shoving another tongue depressor into his mouth. After a moment she once again declared, "He's fine. There's no swelling or redness and the bruising on his vocal cords is gone."

"Well then why can't he speak?" Snape growled.

"Because there's a silencing spell on the boy."

Everyone's head snapped over to where Professor McGonagall was leaning casually against one of the infirmary beds.

"What on earth do you mean? No one's cast a silencing spell."

McGonagall looked at the other two adults with a mixture of pity and frustration. "Of course someone cast it. Harry did."

If Harry hadn't been so utterly and completely bewildered, he would have laughed when Snape and Pomfrey both cried out "Accidental magic!" in unison. Of course once their words registered, he was both bewildered and horrified.

Accidental magic? But that was impossible! He was at Hogwart's now, accidental magic was supposed to stop! Didn't accidental magic only happen to little kids? He was well over 11 now. His heart began to speed up, and he had to fight to keep his breath. He was quickly brought back to the moment at hand when Snape drawled,

"Well that explains the how. Now as for the why --" He swiveled to wards Harry, who fought against every instinct in himself and did not scramble back on the bed. He could not, however, stop himself from flinching.

After a long, cool look, Snape finally said, "Go down to the dungeons, get started on your homework."

He must have spent too long trying to analyze the tone of the man's voice, because all of the adults were staring at him. Again.

"Go, Harry. I will be down shortly."

So he went, and along the way he tried to convince himself that his teacher's statement was not a threat.

**********

Harry did give himself credit. He hadn't locked himself into the potions supply closet. He had wanted to. It just seemed so automatic...do bad "freaky things" get locked in the cupboard. And while magic wasn't bad here at school, they were supposed to be doing real magic, not this accidental stuff. The accidental stuff made everything go wrong; he knew that from experience. The whole experience made him incredibly nervous.

So yes, while he hadn't hidden in a cupboard, he was curled up in a corner of the workroom. The corner furthest from his mentor's desk.

By the time the man himself arrived in the dungeons, Harry had worked himself into quite a lather. He gripped his arms around his knees, in an effort to both make himself smaller and to stop the shaking. His mind was currently running through his memories of all his accidental magic at the Dursley's. He hadn't known that's what it was at the time, but obviously his uncle had. His head almost hurt from the memory of where Uncle had grabbed him by the hair after the snake incident. That had been number four of the belt incidents he had told Snape about. His uncle liked to save the belt for those times Harry did something freaky - as if he was trying to train it out of him. It might have worked if Harry had known anything about magic; as it was it was worse, because he was being beaten for something he knew nothing about.

The sound of the door shutting pulled him out of his memories.

"What are you doing over there? I thought I told you to get started on your homework?"

Oh boy. I just can't seem to get anything right these days.

He got to his feet, pulling up the half-filled parchment he had been working on. Or at least trying to. He had, of course, been a little distracted.

He took one step forward, proffering the parchment, only to retreat again when Snape stepped forward to take it. The bigger wizard gave him another of those cool stares he couldn't decipher, and then raised his wand and incanted, "Accio Harry's parchment." As expected, it went flying from his hand.

His teacher's eyes flicked over it quickly. "This is a rather poor start. You'll have to start it over."

Harry's heart sank into his stomach. ‘I'm sorry' he signed, staring, unfocused at the man's eyes. From the corner of his eyes he could see Snape's shining belt buckle. It was the only thing the man wore that wasn't black. ‘I'm sorry' he repeated, this time shifting his full gaze to the dangerous strip of leather around the man's waist.

"Although perhaps your homework will have to wait until later. We need to have a talk. Come out of that corner please."

Oh god. This was it. Maybe if he just apologized again. ‘I'm sorry'.

Snape did not move. Resigned, Harry removed his robe, settling it over a chair. Snape's eyes seemed to track his every move, and Harry couldn't keep up eye contact; as his fingers grasped the hem of his overly large T-shirt he kept his eyes trained on the floor.

So he did not see Severus' eyes flare and his hands ball into fists.

"What in the name of all things magical are you doing, Harry?"

His voice was hard, steely even, but it seemed to Harry that Snape was forcing it to be that way. Like it was an effort. The man was clearly thrown off balance, and the very thought of this threw Harry off balance in return. He couldn't seem to focus, couldn't push past the fog.

So all he could do was shrug and gestured impotently, indicating the belt.

Snape ran his hand over his face, and Harry thought he heard him mutter "It was a rhetorical question." After a long moment he looked up at Harry and said, "Do you realize where you are?" Harry nodded hesitantly. "Then why do you think that I would - do that?"

Harry swallowed hard. His parchment was on the desk, and he didn't particularly want to move any closer. Finally he settled on pointing to himself, signing the word ‘bad', and making a wand like gesture in the air.

He wasn't sure if Snape understood, because all he said was "Accio Severus' belts."

A pile of roughly ten belts, all black leather, settled at the man's feet. "Look at me, please." Harry was compelled to meet his intense gaze. "I was fairly confident that you trusted me, but I see now that it is not so." Harry wanted to protest, but Snape cut him off. "Not completely, not in the way you ought. This is a rather foolish first gesture, but if it eases your mind..."

The professor approached him then, and Harry stood frozen. It was clear that the man was upset. As much as he ever showed emotion, he was laying it clearly out in front of Harry. So he couldn't allow himself to run away; that would only make it worse.

"Neither I, nor any other teacher at this school, will ever take a belt to you. Perhaps I should say, no one will ever beat you again, not for accidental magic, nor for anything else. Now watch."

So Harry watched as, with a flick of his wand, Snape banished every belt he owned.