"Yes, sir." Harry rose, collecting his book bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Thank you," he said, glancing back at the professor as he reached the door. "For sticking up for me."

Snape shook his head just a bit, but the sharp brittleness in his eyes softened, and he waved a hand in silent dismissal.

Harry smiled and slipped through the door.

Severus watched the boy go and shook his head again. He was getting soft, and he could not afford to. Yet, the Bloody Brat Who Had Just Thanked Him, Against All Odds kept managing to surprise him. He could not help but agree with the little voice inside that reminded him that Potter was not his father's son. Not by a long shot.

The Bloody Baron, who had remained unusually quiet during his talk with the Brat, floated out the door to keep guard on Potter till he got up to the Great Hall for his meal. Between Severus and the ghost, they would make sure no one attacked the boy. They had to.

The next week went by fairly quickly and with minimum of fuss, and Halloween arrived. Severus detested the holiday, if for no other reason than it gave Albus reason -- as if he ever required any, truly -- to hold a feast and feed the children too much sugar. They were always completely unmanageable for days on either side of any holiday, and this year was no exception.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, seemed to have come over all melancholic. Severus was not going to ask why, but he did listen to the Bloody Baron chatting with the boy during his study time on October 30th. He had noticed the Baron spending a great deal of time talking with Potter over the last couple months, and he knew the boy confided more in the ghost than probably anyone else, even the Nott boy, or his Quidditch mates. It was unusual, to be sure, since in Severus' tenure at Hogwarts, and even when he had been a student, he could not recall a single person the Baron had ever spent more than a few minutes with over the course of their entire matriculation. And yet, the Bloody Baron spent copious quantities of time with Potter, rarely leaving his side if the boy was outside of the Slytherin common room.

Tonight being no different, the Baron floated by Harry's left shoulder as the boy worked on an essay for Herbology. At his desk, Severus remained, to all appearances, casually uninterested and focused on his grading. In truth, he had not read a word his be-damned third years had committed to paper in well over twenty minutes, while the Baron and Harry spoke of how he was managing in his other classes, and how Quidditch practice was going. Normally, Severus would not give a shrivelfig for any of this small talk, but he knew the boy would open up to the Baron sooner or later about his current mood, and he wanted to know what was bothering the boy . . .

There. He'd admitted it. He . . . cared.

"Halloween Feast tomorrow," the Baron said. "I imagine you're looking forward to that."

Potter shrugged one shoulder. "I guess."

The ghost peered at him, cocking his insubstantial head to the side. "You are not looking forward to it."

"Haven't really given it much thought," the boy admitted. He shuffled his book closer and reread something in it before writing again.

"May I be so bold as to ask why? Most children, especially First Years, find the whole thing rather exciting."

"My parents died on Halloween." The words were so soft, Severus almost didn't catch them. In shock, he dropped his quill.

The Bloody Baron had reared back slightly, but then he nodded, and one of his ghostly, silver hands reached toward Harry's shoulder, though he did not actually make contact.

Playing with his own quill and staring at his hands, Potter went on, "I never even knew them, or how they died or anything, till Hagrid found me and told me. I had to find out when Voldemort killed them from a book Hermione leant me." He turned his gaze on the Baron at last, and from his angle, Severus could see the wideness of his eyes, the vulnerability in them, overlaid with pain. "So, I figured, this year, for the first time, I could sort of . . . I dunno. Mark their passing, or something. I don't think I'll go to the feast, is all. Seems kind of . . . like I'd be disrespecting them. Now that I know."

Even as Severus shook his head, the Bloody Baron did the same thing. But what the ghost said was, "I understand, Harry Potter. But consider, you have had too few opportunities to relax with your friends, and this feast would give you that."

Another one shoulder shrug. "Yeah. Maybe. I dunno." And he went back to his essay.

Severus watched him, giving up on pretending to grade. He was having another of those weird moments when his thoughts had been running counter to reality, and when the dichotomy caught up to him, he felt a bit lightheaded. Harry really had no knowledge of his parents. No memory at all of his mother and her sacrifice. Lily . . . the thought of her smile and bright green eyes gave Severus a fleeting, but no less real, physical pain in his chest.

Harry had needed to learn about their deaths from a book.

It was . . . unconscionable.

It was infuriating.

Severus would save his wrath for those who deserved it: Albus, for placing Potter with those Muggles, the Muggles themselves, and the Dark Lord, for murdering the boy's parents in the first place.

It was not until he heard the Bloody Baron clearing his throat that Severus jerked himself out of the reverie he had fallen into, to find Harry was clearing up his books and parchment and tucking them in his bag. He had almost been caught out staring, so he gave the Baron a small nod of appreciation for the warning, as Harry turned toward his desk and said, "Good night, sir."

"Anything to report, Potter?" Severus kept his voice cool and professional.

"Nope. Er . . . I mean, no, sir. Qu-- Professor Quirrell hasn't so much as called on me in over a week. And, no pain in my scar at night."

"Nightmares?"

A little shrug. "Just regular ones. Nothing with Him in." They both knew who the boy referred to.

"Very well." As the boy reached the door, Severus added, "If you need to see me, during the day tomorrow, I will be available after lunch."

Harry swallowed, but nodded quickly and avoided his eyes. "Thank you, sir.

He watched the boy leave, wondering why he'd felt the need to offer what was essentially -- he assumed -- a shoulder for the boy to cry on. He did not do shoulders upon which students cried. Suppressing a sigh, he took a trick from Harry's book and avoided the Bloody Baron's gaze as the ghost hesitated just inside the door.

"I'm surprised, Severus Snape," the ghost intoned. "But heartened by your offer."

"Oh, get out," Severus said irritably. Maybe now he could get some work done.

---

Nothing went well on Halloween.

In the morning, two of his Third Years got into a pissing match with the Weasley twins and came out of it with Gryffindor red skin with gold spots, a problem which proved rather more difficult to rectify than Severus would have hoped.

Minerva, of course, found the whole thing to be terribly amusing. Not as much so, once Severus lobbed a week's detention at all four boys, but that went without saying. She could be such a sour puss when she wanted.

In the afternoon, Severus made himself available for the Potter Brat, who never showed up, and who even skipped his regular study session. At least Severus got a good deal of potion ingredients prepared for next week's lessons, but he disliked the sensation that Potter was avoiding him.

And then there was the cock up of the Halloween Feast.

He should have known Quirrell would try something, but he had honestly not considered the possibility of the man letting a troll into the school. It was dangerous and foolhardy, and no one who knew the man at all could fail to realize who exactly amongst those with access to the school wards, also had an affinity for working with trolls.

That was neither here nor there. When Quirrell had announced the troll's arrival and then "fainted" dead away, Severus had known that either the Philosopher's Stone was in danger of being stolen, or Harry was in danger of being attacked.

Since the Brat Who Lived to Annoy Him was not present at the ball, and neither was the Baron, he had to assume the ghost was watching over the boy and would protect him. So it fell to Severus to go protect the stone.

He hated Fluffy.

A lot.

And who in their right mind named a hellhound "Fluffy," anyway??

Hurrying up the stairs, he cast a quick Disillusionment spell on himself. Would never do for some child who had not bothered to listen to their Prefects to see him tearing down the halls well away from the dungeons. When he reached the door on the third floor, it did not seem to have been tampered with, but he opened it, just to be sure. "Alohomora," he said quietly.

Beyond, the hellhound sat, crouched over the trap door. All three heads regarded him hungrily. Deep throated growls from three throats made the hairs stand up on Severus' neck. Long teeth dripped saliva in large splotches on the floor, and Severus thought he might be ill.

He kept his back to the door. He knew he had only seconds to cast the revealing spell, to see if anyone else had been here, before the hellhound launched itself at him. He got through the spells as fast as he can. Everything seemed secure, and his wand hand did not shake at all. It didn't!

As he grasped for the door handle, the growls grew louder and the scrabble of claws on the stone floor matched the scrabbling of his fingers against the latch. He was almost out the door when the closest of the three heads lunged at him, and sank its sharp fangs into his leg. The beast wrenched him back and forth, and it was all Severus could do to keep his balance as pain radiated from where the hellhound was latched onto him.

Severus gritted his teeth and ground out, "Stupefy!" The spell would not knock the beast out, any more than it would a dragon, but . . .

The hellhound stopped worrying Severus' leg, and reared back, shaking its head. Severus used the brief respite to flee.

Merlin, he hated that beast.

His leg throbbed as he limped away from the relocked door. He had a salve in his quarters he could use on it, but the dungeon was very far away. It hurt, and was bleeding, and there was a troll loose somewhere, and Potter probably was in danger. With these thoughts in mind, he was not in the best of moods when he came across Quirrell lurking not twenty feet down the corridor.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled. "Shouldn't you be in the dungeons subduing the troll?"

"B-but, S-s-severus," the Defense Professor stuttered. "I w-w-wanted to make s-s-sure everything was s-s-safe here. I th-thought p-p-perhaps the t-troll was a d-d-diversion."

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously. Was Quirrell finally admitting to his perfidy? "Indeed?"

"B-but you have it all in h-h-hand, y-yes?"

"Of course," Severus snapped.

"I would expect nothing less, my dear boy," interjected a new voice.

Severus whipped around, wand high. Even though he recognized the voice, one could not be too careful. He gazed at Albus, whose bright blue eyes took in the two Professors, the door, and even Severus' wounded leg, in a matter of seconds. Severus inclined his head sharply and lowered his wand. "Headmaster."

"Severus," Albus greeted. He looked Quirrell up and down. "Quirinus."

"I trust the troll has been dealt with," Severus said.

"In a manner of speaking," Albus said. "I should think you would find the girls' bathroom on the first floor very illuminating."

Severus glared at the Headmaster cryptic statement, but something in the old man's expression made Severus take a step back, eyes wide. Pain shot through his leg, and he bit his tongue to keep it from showing. Potter. It had to be Potter.

"Go," Albus said. "I'm here now."

With a sharp nod, Severus took off at a run, or as much of one as he could manage. At the bottom of the stairs, he could hear the roars of the troll, and the crash of heavy things being thrown or smashed, as well as at least one higher pitched yell, that of a child. By the time he reached the lavatory in question, however, dead silence reached his ears. To his surprise, Minerva was also running toward the door, and they reached it at the same time.

Minerva's lips were pressed together tightly, but even though she had been running, not a hair was out of place from her tight bun. She glared over Severus' shoulder, and he turned to see that Quirrell had followed him.

This day got better and better every second.

They had paused only for the space of a heart beat before Minerva flung open the door, to reveal a very unusual sight.

Potter -- he knew it! -- was standing, wand out, over a twelve foot, lumpy gray troll, while Theodore Nott looked on and Millicent Bulstrode crouched under one of the smashed sinks, softly encouraging the Gryffindor girl, Granger, to come out. The Bloody Baron hovered by the sinks, looking a bit less shiny than usual.

Severus glared at the two boys and took a moment to gather his thoughts as he checked the troll over. It was not dead, just knocked out. And it stank to high heaven.

Minerva had no such compunctions about watching her words. "What on earth were you thinking of?" Her voice was the essence of cold fury. Severus was impressed, despite himself. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape glared at the Slytherins again, specifically at Potter . . . though he realized with a start that the boy should not have even known about the troll, since he had not been present at the Feast. The boy did not hold his gaze, but looked briefly at his shoes before bringing his head up to face McGonagall's wrath. Severus was content to let her yell at them a bit; he would have his chance later. In private.

"I, er . . ." Harry started.

A voice from under the sinks interrupted him. "Please, Professor McGonagall. They were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

The girl climbed to her feet. "I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them."

Potter and Bulstrode stared at her, open mouthed, as she continued, "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the lot of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Granger hung her head and said nothing, which was a sure sign of the Apocalypse, Severus was sure.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Minerva. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

The girl left, and Minerva turned to Severus' Slytherins, obviously with every intention of bending their ears over the issue. Severus knew there was more going on here than the Granger chit said, but he was certainly not going to let Minerva worm it out of his students. As she opened her mouth to start in on them, Severus straightened from where he had been crouched by the troll and said, "You three were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. Five points to Slytherin for each of you."

He shot Minerva a sly smile as all three of his students gaped at him.

"I shall leave you to it, Professor," she said with a huff, obviously annoyed with having the wind removed from her sails. "But I shall be informing the Headmaster of this, you can be certain."

"Good evening, Professor," he said, agreeably.

"I will return to help remove the troll," she added. Once she had left, dragging a still faint Quirrell with her, Severus turned his glare on the three students. "Now. Tell me what happened." He stared each of them down. "And I want the truth."

Of the three, Potter was the first to reply, lifting his head. A spark of defiance glowed in his eyes. "It was just like Hermione said. We heard the troll in here, and her screaming, and so tried to get her out, first, by distracting it. Teddy threw some pipe or something, and I was just yelling at it, but Millie couldn't get her to leave, so then I . . ."

"Then you what?" Severus said in a dangerous tone. He was gratified to see Harry swallow hard.

"I, er . . . I jumped on its back." He stared at the troll at their feet and swallowed again. "My, er, wand went up its nose. Then Teddy levitated its club up and hit it on the head. . . ."

Severus closed his eyes briefly.

"I know it sounds bad, Severus Snape--" came the cool voice of the Bloody Baron.

"Of course it sounds bad," Severus snarled. "Because it is. You all could have been killed, and for what?"

"For a friend," Potter said softly. "I couldn't just let her get hurt."

With a long suffering sigh, Severus said, "Why were you not in your common room?"

"We hadn't heard about the troll," Potter said.

"None of you were at the feast?"

"No, sir," the Nott boy said.

Potter smiled shyly at them. "They wanted to stay with me. And I . . . I didn't want to go."

"Very well," Severus intoned. "Go to the common room now, all of you. We will discuss this more later."

A chorus of, "Yes, sirs," and they were gone.

"Well?" Severus snapped at the Bloody Baron once the door had closed. "You could not have told me what was happening?"

The Baron did not rise to the bait, but merely gave Severus a long look. "I sent a message to the Headmaster. Did he not find you?"

"He did."

"Well, there you are. Potter is fine, albeit having shown a remarkable lack of self-preservation instinct, and your Slytherins obviously have a loyal friend in Miss Granger."

"Bully for them."

"Perhaps you should get that leg looked at."

"Perhaps you should mind your o--" Severus stopped. "Very well." He sighed. "Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"Always, Severus. Always."

The ghost faded out of the room, and Severus traipsed off to the dungeons himself, wondering how to keep that boy safe, when he seemed determined to throw himself headlong into danger.

He only hoped both of them would survive the year.