He needed to get Harry away from those Muggles for good. And now that Harry had started telling him about their treatment, he had a much better shot at it. He gave Harry a half smile. "Thank you, Harry. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me this," he said. "Now, would you like to see another picture?"

Harry nodded eagerly and reached for the pile of photos. "One of you and Mum," he said, and Severus' heart soared.

A couple days later, once Harry admitted to Snape about knowing about the third-floor cerberus, and also about how he had lived in a cupboard, when he'd also mentioned his first birthday cake, from Hagrid, Harry decided he really needed to see Hagrid again. It just wasn't right that he hadn't visited the gigantic man at Hogwarts, not once since he'd been sorted. He had to admit, though, Hagrid's reaction to his sorting had made him nervous. Hagrid wouldn't really hold that against him, could he, that he was in Slytherin? But maybe he did. Maybe he thought, like some students from the other houses, that Slytherin housed all the evil people at school.

Really, though, he knew there was only one way to find out for sure what Hagrid thought.

Thus, Harry went to visit his first-ever friend on Friday after classes let out for the day. He asked Millicent to go with him, figuring correctly that she might appreciate meeting the man who had rescued Harry from the Dursleys. And, since Teddy had heard him ask Millie along, he asked Teddy, too, though he hadn't actually expected the fastidious boy to want to meet the school's rather untidy groundskeeper. Teddy surprised him, though, by quickly agreeing to take the trip down to Hagrid's cottage, which was near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Having advised Snape that he was going to go see Hagrid, instead of meet with him to look at pictures as he usually did these last few weeks, Harry led his two friends across the lawn and over a small hill to Hagrid's cottage once Herbology let out. Harry was a bit nervous about just showing up at Hagrid's door, worried that Hagrid would turn him away, maybe call him a Dark Wizard in Training, an epithet Harry had been taunted with a few times -- mostly by Gryffindors -- over the last couple of months. Maybe Hagrid was disappointed in Harry. Maybe he was sorry that he'd given Hedwig to Harry, and demand he give her back. Maybe he'd say as much in front of Harry's Slytherin friends, or refuse to be his friend at all unless Harry gave up Millie and Teddy. . . .

The door opened on his third knock, and Hagrid stood framed by the space. About two seconds later, the man's surprised look vanished, and he said, "'Arry! Wotcher doin' down 'ere?"

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry said, and drew up a deep breath along with his courage. "I, er, hoped I could talk to you? I mean, that we could?" he amended, feeling tongue tied and stupid, as he gestured to his friends. "I mean, I haven't seen you in a long time, and I just wanted to visit."

Hagrid's face immediately broke out in a huge grin. "O' course, 'Arry! C'mon in, all of ye, tha's right; I've some treacle fudge, new made, an' we can 'ave it wit' a nice cuppa."

Relief flooded Harry like water in an overflowing bathtub, pouring over the edges and making him feel warm inside. He grinned up into the face of his friend. "Sounds great."

As Hagrid ushered the three of them into his cottage, Harry took a look around. Hagrid lived simply, with a large table and chairs and a low, but wide bed in one corner the only real furnishings. But the cottage had a homely feel to it, with various knick-knacks, such as whittled wooden figures -- animals mostly: dragons, wyverns, centaurs and unicorns, especially -- colorful, woven bags stuffed with pungent herbs from his outdoor garden and carved, filigreed boxes of varying sizes (and holding who knew what) on shelves or lined up on the mantle, giving the place a more personal, though uncluttered, touch. The one room cottage smelled odd, though, like dog, -- and the reason why was obvious a moment later, when Fang made his presence known by coming out from under the bed to bark at the trio, then drooling everywhere with his tail thumping madly -- smoked fish and burnt sugar.

Hagrid settled his guests at his huge table and offered them tea and fudge, chatting the whole time as he put a kettle on to boil then laid out gigantic mugs and a tall ewer of milk for the tea: "Haven't seen yer about, 'Arry, not since the sortin'. 'Aven't 'ad much time t'visit with ye. Sorry 'bout that. Been real busy and all. Real busy; important business for Professor Dumbledore, ye know. Good man, Dumbledore."

"Business for the Headmaster?" Teddy asked. "What kind of business?"

"Ah." Pausing as he set out a plate, piled high with wedges of treacle fudge, Hagrid looked embarrassed for a moment. "Shouldn't've said that. I should not 'ave said tha'."

"No, it's okay, Hagrid. Don't worry," Millie quickly assured him, smiling. She seemed very comfortable in the big chair, swinging her legs back and forth to bang her feet on the rungs, and Fang appeared content to have his ears scratched as he rested his head in her lap. "We'll never tell."

Hagrid flashed her a big smile. "Yer a good'un, Mill'cent. A real good'un. Just 'ave some of that fudge, a'right?" he said, and pointed a meaty finger at the plate. "Made it meself this mornin'." He turned back to the fireplace to collect the tea pot.

"Thanks." Millie bit into a piece and spent the next ten minutes trying to chew the sugary treat without losing a tooth. "S'good," she remarked, and Harry shook his head at her, bemused. He liked treacle quite a lot, it was his favorite pudding, bar none, but Hagrid's effort didn't look very appetizing, and he hadn't eaten any of his portion yet, planning to feed it to Fang. That's where the burnt smell came from, he was sure.

"Does the Headmaster's business have anything to do with the cerberus on the third floor?" asked Teddy. "You know," he added, with deliberate casualness. "Fluffy."

Hagrid dropped the teapot.

"How do yeh know about Fluffy?" he asked, all cheerfulness and friendliness gone from his voice.

"So you do know about it," Teddy said.

Hagrid frowned and pulled out a cloth as wide as a quilt to mop up the mess. "Well, yeah -- he's mine. Bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year. I jus' lent him to Dumbledore to guard the. . ."

"Yes?" said Teddy eagerly when Hagrid trailed off.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is." He looked over his shoulder to the left, then right, as if someone else might be listening to the conversation while in this very room. He then pointed a large finger at Teddy. "Who told yeh about my Fluffy, then?"

Harry jumped in quickly to rescue his friend. "No one told us, Hagrid. We found out accidentally." He supposed overhearing something might be considered "accidental," if a person didn't go out of their way to listen in.

He sighed; who was he kidding? It was a lie, and he hated needing to lie to Hagrid. He was starting to think that bringing Teddy along might not have been the best idea for fixing his friendship with Hagrid. Given Teddy's doggedness over this issue for the last month or so, Harry knew that his dorm mate wouldn't just let the matter go, but would worry at it like a dog with a new toy. Teddy was the one who'd overheard Hagrid speak to the Headmaster about the "you-know-what" the cerberus was guarding, and had been intrigued by the mystery ever since, becoming even more so once Harry had told him and Millie about his vision of the unicorn killer. All this, despite the fact that Teddy also seemed to want Harry to tell their Head of House about what he'd sensed from his vision, and kept telling Harry and Millie that, as first years, they shouldn't be responsible for fixing this problem.

He was right, of course.

Then again, Harry himself was intrigued by the mystery involving dead unicorns, a mysterious item being heavily guarded, Quirrell's attack on him and the Baron, and the pain in his scar . . . and not just because it was his life being threatened, although that obviously played a fairly big role.

So . . . Maybe Hagrid could help them discover who was behind the whole thing, focusing on whoever was trying to steal the you-know-what. Somehow, Harry doubted it was the stuttering, bumbling Professor Quirrell; he was too incompetent to be a real thief. Maybe Hagrid cold help them thwart the true villain.

Suddenly recalling his first and only time at Gringotts, and Hagrid's little side trip when they were in the tunnels, as well as an article in the Daily Prophet just after school started, Harry put two pieces together and took a chance on his instincts being right.

"Hagrid . . ." Harry gave Teddy a look that asked him to go along with what he said, and the other boy nodded minutely, agreeing. "Have you noticed anything weird about Professor Quirrell this term? Aside from the stuttering, I mean?"

Hagrid shook his shaggy head. "Nah. 'E's same as always. . . . Though, now ye mention it, he never did 'ave tha' stutter b'fore. Picked it up in 'is travels, I guess." Hagrid had put another teapot on to boil, and he now filled their mugs to the rims before easing his large frame into one of his chairs; it barely creaked. "Why ye ask?"

Hesitating only a second, Harry plunged on, "We think someone's trying to steal what Fluffy's guarding. You know, that package you picked up from Gringotts."

Hagrid's eyes grew wide and he pushed his chair back with a loud screech of wooden legs on wood floor. "Now listen to me, all three of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous, and it's nothin' to do with Perfesser Quirrell, I can tell ye that much right now. So you jus' forget my Fluffy, an' yeh forget what 'e's guardin'. That ain't none of your business. It's jus' between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel, and ain't no concern of yours at all."

"Aha!" said Millie, having finally unstuck her teeth, and sounding quite triumphant, but whether about the unsticking, or what she was saying, no one knew, "so someone called Nicolas Flamel is involved, is he?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

To Harry's regret, despite a fairly nice chat until dinner time, once the unpleasantness of Hagrid's fuming was over, their visit could have gone much better.

All in all, Harry was sure that Hagrid didn't believe him about someone -- likely Quirrell -- trying to steal the item in question, so it was just as well he had already discussed it with Snape. He hoped that Snape really did make sure that the protections on The Thing were double checked, as he certainly did not want Quirrell -- or anyone else with malicious intent -- to get their hands on something that had once needed to be guarded by such secure measures that goblins could provide, and was now guarded by a three-headed hell hound. Not to mention, he figured, that Quirrell, having already failed to kill Harry twice, would not hesitate to try again, if it should be within his power to do so. The whatever-it-was was probably something to aid the professor in that job.

After dinner, they chatted together about the "project" and their possible courses of action, going forward. The visit with Hagrid had given them valuable information, Harry was willing to admit. Based on the man's reactions, they reasoned, they now had a better chance of figuring out what The Thing was. For one thing, from Harry's recollection of his Diagon Alley expedition, The Thing was small enough to fit in Hagrid's palm. Harry told the other two everything he could remember about the package Hagrid had picked up from Gringotts, and they added Nicholas Flamel to their list of "clues," which already included the Unicorn Killer's desire for it, as a means to prolong its life, in a way unicorn blood could not.

They talked until almost curfew, and before they went to bed that night, Teddy suggested they should start looking for references to Nicholas Flamel in the library the next day. Millie, however, suggested that it was their responsibility -- especially given how free Hagrid seemed to be, talking about what the trio knew were supposed to be secrets -- to tell one of their teachers about what they had learned. Their Head of House, specifically.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to get Hagrid in trouble, and since they hadn't learned anything new about the possible thief that Snape didn't already know, he decided to play it by ear.

The next few weeks went by fairly quickly as winter holidays approached. Harry continued to meet with Snape to look at photographs of his mother. Sometimes she was by herself, sometimes with Snape, and sometimes with the friends she had made at school. He noticed, but never mentioned, that Snape had no pictures at all of her with James Potter. Snape had already explained his extreme dislike of Harry's father, and had even apologized for when that dislike had spilled over onto Harry himself, so Harry didn't see any point in bringing up the issue of who she had posed with.

In these meetings, they sometimes talked about school work, and sometimes about other things . . . like when they would start Occlumency lessons -- over winter break, Snape told him, assuming he was staying at Hogwarts -- or how Harry was sleeping and eating -- better, Harry told him, which was not quite a lie -- and how he was getting along with the upper years nowadays, with Gaius gone: Few of them ever spoke to him at all, he reported, except for those on the Quidditch team, and he liked that just fine.

They rarely talked about what had happened with Gaius, except for when that overlapped with Harry's nightmares and he couldn't get away with non-answers, and they spoke even less frequently about Harry's life with the Dursleys. Harry could tell -- and Snape had told him outright, several times -- that Snape wanted him to talk about them. Snape claimed it was so he could present evidence against them to Dumbledore, as proof Harry should not be sent to live with them again. But ten years of living under his uncle's iron rule had taught Harry some (occasionally hard earned) lessons, the first of which was: Don't Tell.

Harry knew with absolute clarity that, if he told, he would be in deep, deep trouble, and would likely spend an eternity in his cupboard, regardless of whether anyone was "watching" the Dursleys or not. There was no way in the world he would test that Number One Rule, no matter how many promises Snape made that nothing bad would happen to him if he told.

Harry figured he was probably already doomed for saying as much about them as he had. Which is why, when the sheet went up on the bulletin board in the Slytherin Common Room, for those who would be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, Harry signed it immediately. He was the first one, and he knew already he'd be the only one from Slytherin first years, at least.

Within fifteen minutes of him putting name to paper, of course, Blaise Zabini had started to take the mickey. "Awww, that's so sad. Don't you think that's sad? Not even Mugglescum want poor widdle Potter in their home," he teased in a sing-song voice from across the room, then topped it off with a sneer. "Not that I'm surprised . . ."

"Shut it, Zabini," Teddy said tiredly from his seat at the corner table, where a bunch of them were revising for a Transfiguration exam the next day. "No one cares about what surprises you. If they did, they would have cared about your mother on the day you were born."

Zabini's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Mudblood-loving, ball-sucking pig!" he snarled. "Just wait--"

"Till your bollocks drop?" Teddy interrupted in the same bored voice. "Let us alone to work in the meantime, will you?"

Harry's face grew hot in embarrassment, even as Draco and his two goons sniggered, and Millie raised a hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. "Gracius, Theodore, such language!"

"So sayeth the Queen of Vulgarity," Teddy shot back, and Millie stuck out her tongue at him. With a snort and a leer, Teddy offered to show her where to put "that bulbous thing," and in the laughter that followed, Blaise Zabini stomped out of the room, forgotten. For now.

Harry was just as glad; he was tired of Zabini's lowbrow remarks about his family and his heritage, no matter how true they might be. He was glad he had friends like Millie and Teddy, but he wished they didn't need to stand up for him quite so often.

Over the last few months, Harry had learned that inside Slytherin House, the Snakes could be callous and cruel. He'd had to stand up for Millie a few times against some of the other girls, Firsties as well as upper years, who teased her about her weight and her looks, and said how she'd never have a husband except that her parents could afford to arrange a marriage for her. And Teddy had come under fire from other Slytherins, as Draco had, too, for the choices their fathers had made after the war which ended in 1981, when Harry survived the Killing Curse and Voldemort had vanished. One of the sixth year boys in particular, Oskar Dolohov, seemed to hold a special grudge against Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father, because his own father had been in Azkaban for ten years, whereas the elder Malfoy had escaped prosecution by saying he had only done the Dark Lord's bidding whilst under the Imperius Curse.

On the other hand, outside of their common rooms and dorms, Slytherins stood together as one when faced with the slander, mockery and occasional bullying from the other Houses; there was no denying that.

After the laughter died down, Teddy nudged Harry's side with an elbow and, without looking at him, murmured, "You know you're welcome to join me and my father for the holidays."

"I know," Harry replied just as quietly. "But I told you, I'm meant to do some new training with Professor Snape."

"I wish you'd tell me what that was, so we could get some books or something, to prepare you."

"Can't," Harry started, and Teddy joined in for the rest of his statement, knowing it by rote by now: "It's a secret." Harry grinned. "Well, it is. And I promised not to tell."

One corner of Teddy's lip went up as he gave Harry a sly, yet casual look, then nodded. "Seems like you can learn, after all."

"Learn what?" Harry asked, frowning.

"To trust an adult. A professor, too!"

"Yeah, well . . ." Harry shrugged, embarrassed again.

"Hey, don't worry, Harry," Teddy said, grinning at him. "I won't tell Bulstrode. You know she'd have a coronary."

"Never tell me what?" Millie called out from across the table.

"Never mind," Harry and Teddy said in unison.

Millie crumpled up her Transfiguration notes and threw the wad at the two of them, then sighed dramatically. "Boys!"

Later, when they were getting ready for bed, Teddy pulled a book out of his trunk and, after checking to make sure no one else was in their dorm room, handed it to Harry. The book was heavy, as thick as Harry's hand. The red leather cover was embossed with gold lettering that read Protection from the Earth Up: The Elements and You.

"What's this?"

"A book."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very funny. What's it for?"

"Reading." At Harry's look, Teddy held up his hands. "Okay, okay. After we talked a while ago, about you being able to protect yourself better, I've been doing some research, to figure out what we could do so you wouldn't have to worry every second that you were going to be attacked. But then that shit with Avery happened," Teddy eyed Harry as if he might bolt from the room, and it was an act of sheer will for Harry to not flinch at the sound of that bastard's name, "and I didn't get a chance to look more into it until recently." Teddy worried his lip briefly then said, "Anyway, I found this book, and it has some . . . interesting ideas in it for how you might better protect yourself. Just read it, okay? But don't let anyone else see it; it's not exactly Firsties material. We can talk more after the break, if you want."

Harry stared at his friend, not knowing quite what to say. Finally, he settled on, "All right. Thanks."

Teddy nodded, and headed over to his bed, so when Draco entered the dorm, Harry slid the book into his own trunk, to examine later.

For a long time, Harry lay awake thinking about the book, thinking about the upcoming holiday break, and thinking about the people he needed to protect himself from if he didn't want to end up as dead as a unicorn. Thus, it was no surprise that he found Professor Snape at his bedside in the deep of night, telling him he had suffered another nightmare, even if it was one he could not recall.