"Mr. Longbottom!" Snape hissed.  The hapless boy jumped, his eyes huge with fright.  Severus grit his teeth.  "Perhaps, Mr. Longbottom, if you tried adding those acrimony pods one at a time, instead of in one soggy clump - you might have more success."

The boy blinked at him. "Y-yes, sir," he stammered and hunched over his cauldron nervously.

Weasley was staring at him mouth agape.  "Get to work, Mr. Weasley," Snape growled.  "You too, Mr. Finnegan," he added, noting the other boy gawking - along with most of the Gryffindors.  At his disapproving scowl, the students returned their attention to their cauldrons.

It had been several months since Severus had begun his new approach with the students.  He had started slowly,  focusing his attention on his Slytherins at first.  He found it much easier to overlook their faults. He was still demanding and austere, but he did try to focus his criticism on their brewing errors, refraining from mentioning their obvious personal flaws.  This had not been easy - with so many blatant defects just begging to be disparaged - but he had managed, and was smugly proud of his restraint. His Snakes had responded with surprising progress.  Their grades had improved, and some of the younger ones had even approached him for extra coaching. 

Once he had grown accustomed to editing the insults from his comments, he tried out the approach on the other houses.  The Ravenclaws and Hufflpuffs had seemed bemused by his new equanimity, but they also responded well to the less tense atmosphere in his classes.  The Gryffindors, however, were still jittery.  They did not seem to trust the change in Snape's demeanor, and they watched him warily, as if waiting for the old familiar ‘Snarky Git' to reappear and tear them to shreds. At first Severus was frustrated by their mistrust, but he had grown amused by their paranoia over time and now enjoyed their unwarranted fears nearly as much as he used to enjoy actually earning that fear.

Potter was the only Gryffindor who had not publicly benefited by Snape's subtle change in teaching methods.  Concerned that his growing regard for the boy might be noticed, Severus was a bit harsher on Potter in class than he was on the others. Although he carefully censured any remarks about the boy's father or his celebrity, he demanded a higher level of competence from him, and was relentlessly critical of Harry's mistakes. 

For his part, Harry took his teachers harangues in stride, sometimes glaring at Severus when rebuked too severely, but concealing a tiny glimmer of amusement behind his childish sulk. He never mentioned their clashes in private, and Severus felt no need to apologize. His persecution of the boy was merely an act now - one he maintained out of habit.  Harry seemed to recognize that pretense, accepting his part in it without grumbling.

Severus trained his sharp gaze on the boy sitting beside Longbottom.  He had set the students brewing individually instead of in pairs and, deprived of Potter's furtive assistance, Longbottom's work was suffering.  But Harry wasn't making headway either.  He was staring off into space,  a tiny frown of worry between his brows.  His cauldron was bubbling ominously, a crucial step ignored or forgotten. It was the third time today Severus had seen the boy woolgathering - and the fifth class in a row he had observed his increasing lack of concentration.  He was secretly concerned, but didn't like admitting it. He knew, however, that he had to do something about the boy's inattention, if only for the safety of his classmates.  He slipped silently up behind the boy, raised a hand and smacked him lightly on the back of the head.

"Potter!  Wake up!" he barked.

Harry jumped and cringed, blinking at him in bewilderment. "I - I'm sorry, sir!"

"This is a classroom, Potter - not a dormitory.  Perhaps if you spent your evenings in your bed instead of gadding about, you wouldn't find it necessary to sleep in my class!"

"I wasn't. . ." the boy  protested but Severus cut him off with a genuine glare.

"Lack of attention in this course is hazardous, Potter - hazardous and inexcusable.  Look at your brewing, idiot! What do you call that rubbish?  You are at least six steps behind your classmates! Do you even know where you left off?"

Potter's face flushed bright red, and he ducked his head. "I. . .I'm sorry, Professor."

"Apologies are no remedy for negligence, Mr. Potter.    I will not tolerate daydreaming in my class - Do you understand me?" he thundered.

Harry gulped and nodded vigorously.  He could tell his Professor's anger wasn't feigned this time, and his dismayed glance was brimming with shame. Convinced he had made his point, Severus vanished the contents from Harry's cauldron and glowered down at him.

 "Start over, Potter.  And this time, pay attention to what you are doing," he ordered curtly.  "And that goes for the rest of you, as well," he announced to the room. "You have three weeks until final examinations. If any of you even dream of passing the course, I suggest you learn to concentrate!  Anyone who does not, will find themselves repeating this class in their Second Year!  Now get back to work - all of you!"

The students busied themselves nervously. Potter stumbled to his feet and slunk around the back of the room to retrieve new ingredients, keeping a maximum distance from his irritated teacher.  Ignoring him, Snape stalked back to his desk to organize his lesson plan for his next class.  The Fifth Years were frantically preparing for their OWLS, and Severus had altered his normal lessons to abandon new material and concentrate on revising.  He didn't expect miracles.  The dunderheads had five years of mediocre brewing to overcome - but he had seen improvement under his altered methods, and hoped a few might actually excel.

When the end of class bell finally rang, most of the students had produced acceptable versions of the simple potion.  Only Longbottom's vial was hideously off-color.  Potter's second attempt was still incomplete and Severus scowled thoughtfully at him. "Potter.  I believe you have a free period at this time, do you not?"

"Umm," Harry peered at him uncertainly.  "I have Quidditch practice, Professor."

"Not today you don't, Mr. Potter.  You will remain after class and complete your potion."

He ignored the  snort of anger from Weasley as well as the glares of resentment from the other Gryffindors.  For a brief moment, Harry looked as if he might protest, but the flash of defiance faded and he turned his attention back to his cauldron with a petulant shrug.

Severus heard Draco snicker, and he spared him a warning glance. The boy at least had the sense to look subdued, but he grinned nastily in the Gryffindor's direction as he sauntered out, his little goons in tow.

Granger leaned over as she passed and murmured sympathetically to Harry. "We'll let Wood know you'll be late, Harry," she said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry replied softly, not looking up at Snape.

When the room was clear,  Snape shut the door and returned to his desk, ignoring the boy still laboring over his brewing.  A short while later, Harry shuffled up to his desk with a filled vial in hand.  Severus gave him a disapproving look.

"I'm finished, sir. And I'm sorry for not paying attention," the boy murmured, setting the vial on his desk.

"Clean up your station," Severus answered sternly.

When the boy was finished, and had packed his belongings, he stood by his table, shifting fretfully from foot to foot.  Severus looked up from his grading and studied him.  "Come up here, Potter, and sit down," he pointed at the chair in front of his desk.

Harry's face clouded.  "But...but sir....my practice..."

"I said, sit down, Mr. Potter," Severus snarled.  Harry obeyed reluctantly. "I realize you are concerned about your practice, Potter.  But your performance in this class is more important.  While I have no objections to your participation, Quidditch is an extra-curricula activity.  That means, it is an entertainment, to be enjoyed in addition to your studies, not to their exclusion.  Your Head of House should have explained, if she hasn't already, that participation is contingent upon maintaining your grades. If it interferes with your studies, you will not be allowed to play. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled.

"You should be grateful I allowed you to complete your potion.  Otherwise you would have earned a zero for the day."

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir," Harry's response was less than enthusiastic, but Severus ignored this.  He had other concerns on his mind.

"Now.  I want to discuss your recent distraction," Severus said firmly.

"Distraction?"

"You have been increasingly inattentive in the last few weeks.  Today was not an isolated incident.  You frequently have your head in the clouds, forgetting where you are and what you are doing.  I would like an explanation."

Harry shrugged uneasily.  "I don't know, sir.  Maybe I'm just tired or something."

"Are you not sleeping well?" Severus asked.  "Are you ill?"

Harry shook his head dismissively. "I'm fine, sir."

Severus scowled.  He introduced the next question with some trepidation.   He had absolutely no experience at this, and he felt strangely self-conscious.  "Is something troubling you, Harry?" he asked hesitantly.  "Is there something you are concerned about;  that you wish to discuss?"

To his surprise, the boy looked up hopefully.  "Umm. . .well. . .I guess there is - sort of."

Oh.  Well.  That was easy.

"Please proceed," Severus nodded with what he hoped resembled benign interest.

"There is something I can't seem to stop worrying about," Harry admitted quietly.

"And that is?" Severus hoped he would not have to coax every word out of the boy.

"I. . .I think Voldemort is trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Harry blurted.

Severus found his mouth wouldn't work. . .it seemed to snap open and closed of  its own accord.  He stared at the boy in utter astonishment.

Severus Snape was not easily dumbfounded.  He was a cool, shrewd man, with unflappable composure, and while he could be surprised, he never revealed it.  Years as a double agent, and keen self-preservation had taught him this vital self-control.

But Potter's words had set him firmly on his arse. His mind raced, trying to formulate an intelligent response.  The boy's declaration was so unexpected - so dangerous on so many different levels, he wasn't sure where to begin.  He brandished his wand,  swiftly erecting a Privacy Bubble around them.  His panic directed his first terse reply.

"Do not say His name!" he spat furiously.

Harry blinked, his confusion genuine.

 "What do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?"  Severus hissed slightly more calmly. " Who told you about it?"  Both Hagrid and Albus immediately sprung to his mind, and he clenched his fists in fury.

"Nobody," Harry admitted sheepishly.  "We - um - we figured it out, that's all." 

"We? Who is we?"

Harry winced and looked at his hands.

"Shall I assume you are referring to Granger and Weasley?" Severus sneered.  "There's no need to deny it, you know.  I have seen the three of you prowling about together."

Harry nodded grudgingly.  "Yeah.  I mean, yes, sir.  It took us nearly the whole year to piece it all together." Severus' expression must have revealed his skepticism, for the boy continued defensively.  "I knew Hagrid brought back something important from Gringotts - I was with him when he picked it up.  And then we found  Fluffy, and we could see the trap door, so we figured it was guarding some-"

"FLUFFY?" Severus shouted.  "You found. . . what in blazes were you doing on the Third Floor?  The Headmaster made it perfectly clear that floor was off-limits!  When are you going to learn you are not exempt from the rules, Potter!"

"We didn't go looking for it!" Harry protested.  "We got lost!  The stairs moved and dumped us there, and we didn't even know it was the Third Floor at first, until Mrs. Norris came and we had to run from Filch and we unlocked the first door we could find, to hide, and there was Fluffy!" he concluded breathlessly.

Severus dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his now aching temples.  "You unlocked the door - which shouldn't have even opened for you, and . . . how in the world did you make it out alive?"

"I dunno," Harry muttered.  "We all just screamed and ran.  We barely managed to close the door on one of the heads." 

"You  - idiot child!  Of all the stupid, reckless...!" Severus railed furiously.

Harry scowled at him.  "You told me to tell you what I was worried about," he accused peevishly.  "If you're going to yell at me for every little thing, I'm never going to finish it!"

Severus glowered, but decided to concede the point. His tirades weren't actually clarifying matters, and his blood pressure was already soaring.  "Very well. You may continue.  I will interrupt you only if I have a legitimate question," he agreed.  "But - we will revisit your misdeeds at later time," he warned darkly.

Harry pouted but huffily continued. "Anyway, we saw the trapdoor and we figured it must be guarding something major - I mean - who keeps a giant three-headed dog over a trap door unless it's meant to guard something pretty important?"

Who, indeed? 

The image of the Headmaster's beaming face flitted into Severus' mind, but he didn't comment.

"So at first we didn't know what it was guarding, but I saw that article in The Prophet, about the burglary at Gringotts, and I knew it was the same vault Hagrid and I went to. . .so I figured someone was trying to steal whatever it was. And then. . .well," the boy hesitated, as if considering his words.  "Uhm, someone mentioned Nicholas Flamel."

Severus snorted.  Three guesses who that was.

" That really stumped us for a while.  We couldn't find anything about him in the library. . ." he admitted.

Something clicked in Severus' mind. . . a late night;  a broken lantern. "Not even in the Restricted Section?" he asked snidely.

Harry gave him a nasty and rather guilty look.  "You said you wouldn't yell."

 "Go on," Severus allowed.

"Anyway - we couldn't find anything cause we were looking in the wrong time. -we were looking in recent history.  Then I finally remembered where I'd seen Flamel's name before: it's on the Headmaster's chocolate frog card."

"It's what?"

"On his card!" Harry asserted.  "It is!  It says the Headmaster worked with Flamel on alchemy and that Flamel was more than six hundred  years old, and once we knew that, we found the whole story on the Stone in a book."

Severus stared at him in disbelief.  He had to give the little miscreants credit;  it was a very clever piece of detective work - especially for three preteen children.  Their reasoning was almost (dare he think it ?)  Slytherin.

Pity the boy didn't devote such industrious research to his legitimate studies.

"We were convinced all along that someone was trying to steal the Stone,  but we thought it was just for the gold - you know?  Then I saw that ...that thing in the Forest, . . . and when I realized that it was Vol-um.. You-Know-Who, and he wasn't dead after all, but only...well- whatever he is. . . .  Well, he needs the Stone for the Elixir of Life."

"What makes you certain that what you saw out there was the Dark Lord?"  Severus asked cautiously.

"The centaur told me," Harry said.  "He's the one who told me about the unicorns' blood, and how it was keeping him alive, but only barely.  A half-life, Firenze said. . . because killing a unicorn is so evil you're cursed for drinking it.  But I guess You-Know-Who wouldn't care about curses, if it kept him alive long enough to get the Stone.  Then the Elixir would give him a real life, wouldn't it?  It would bring him back?"

Severus stared at him with growing horror.  "It could.  But it won't."

Harry titled his head quizzically.

"I have no intention of letting that happen, Harry.  You can trust me on this - I would do anything I had to, to prevent that."  Severus stifled a shudder and resisted the urge to rub at the faded mark on his forearm. 

"But he's out there!  What if he gets in?"

"He won't.  He can't get past the wards."

"Yeah?  That's what they said about trolls," Harry muttered darkly.

"The only way that troll could have entered Hogwarts, was if someone let him in," Severus argued.

"But that's my point!  Someone could let Him in. . . or get the Stone for him!  Hermione says. . ." he halted, his eyes growing larger behind the large glasses.  He looked abruptly guilty.

"Yes?  Miss Granger says?" Severus prompted.

"She says someone could be working for V- Him. Someone who could figure out how to get past Fluffy."

"That drooling, multi-brainless canine is hardly the full extent of the Stone's protection, Potter," Severus sneered.  "There are numerous safeguards in place.  You needn't concern yourself."

"Well, someone could get past them, couldn't they?  It's possible. Even a teacher, maybe?" 

"Is that what you think?  You think one of your Professor's is trying to steal the Stone?" Severus couldn't restrain his slight smirk of amusement.  "And who is your candidate? Hmm?  No favorite contender ? I'm sure Miss Granger must have some opinion - she's full of opinions, isn't she?"

Harry cringed and swallowed hard.  He lowered his gaze and muttered something.

"What was that?"

"You," he mumbled, then sighed. "H-Hermione and Ron think you're trying to steal it."

Severus snorted.  Figures.  Well, I suppose I do fit the part.

Apparently, Harry agreed.  "We know you went to the third floor the night the troll attacked.  And you came back with bites on your leg.  And Hermione says ...Hermione thinks you cursed my broom that day I nearly fell off. And after the game with Hufflepuff - well,  I saw you meet Professor Quirrell," he confessed.  Severus glared at him.  "I...I followed you, into the Forest.  I heard you talking. . . you were threatening him."

"That's impressive circumstantial evidence, Potter," Snape leered.  "Why haven't you taken your suspicions to the Headmaster?  Why confront me with them?"

"Because I don't think it's you," Harry said calmly.

"Don't you?"  Severus hadn't expected this answer.  "Why not?"

"It doesn't make sense.  If - if you wanted to hurt me you would have," the boy replied bravely.  "You wouldn't tutor  me, and help me.  You wouldn't buy me a present.  You wouldn't care if I got enough sleep, or ate my vegetables, or wore my gloves during practice.   I don't think that someone trying to help You-Know-Who come back,  would do things like that."  The boy studied his nails self-consciously.  "I know everyone thinks your mean, but I don't.  I think you just want people to think that.  You really care about your Slytherins - I've heard them talking sometimes.  You make them study, just like you do with me, and you help them if they have problems.  That's why I can't believe it's you.  That's why I trust you."

Severus had sat frozen throughout most of Harry's prolonged admission.  He was frankly stunned by the boy's assessment of him.  He had never given any student - even his Snakes - reason to consider him caring. Either the child was remarkably perceptive, or Severus wasn't nearly as cunning as he hoped.

I wonder if my attachment to this unlikely boy is truly as transparent as that.

As if he had read Severus' thoughts, Harry shrugged. "I don't suppose anyone else would notice stuff like that, but I do.  I'm used to looking out for myself. I'm not so used to someone worrying about me - I can't help but notice."  He peered up at Severus intently.  "I told Ron and Hermione that I didn't think it was you - but they don't believe me. And I don't know who else it could be."

Severus stared down at the solemn child, and shook his head.  "That's not for you to worry about."  The boy started to protest, but Snape cut him off gravely.  "No, Potter.  Listen to me.  I know you have enjoyed unraveling your little mystery, but it stops now.  It is not your job to protect the Stone.  Not your job to worry about who is after it, or why.  Your job, Harry, is to go to classes, do your homework, play Quidditch, and cause minor - repeat - minor mischief with your little friends from time to time.  You are not responsible for anything else.  You are eleven-years-old, and you should behave accordingly."

"But...Vol - You know!" Harry protested earnestly.

"The Dark Lord is not your problem - whether he is truly dead, or attempting a rebirth.  Regardless of what your prior history may suggest,  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not the concern of Harry Potter," Severus stated sternly.

The boy stared up at him, a strange light in his bright green eyes. "You know, I don't really understand all this Boy-Who-Lived business," he confessed softly.  "It seems kinda unlikely to me.  I mean, I was one years old!  How could I have defeated a powerful dark wizard like that?"  There was a faint smirk of self-deprecation on his grave little face. "But even if it isn't true, everyone else seems to believe it.  And that's what scares me."

"Scares you?" Severus felt a twinge of dismay.

"Yeah.  Think about it.  If you were this big, bad wizard, and everyone thought you'd been beaten by a little baby - wouldn't you find that kinda embarrassing?  Wouldn't it make you really mad?" Harry snickered, then looked down at his lap.  He fidgeted with his robes as a sadness settled over him.  "If I were him, and I managed to come back alive, I think the first thing I'd want to do is settle the score.  I'd want to prove it was  all a lie by killing the boy everyone claimed I couldn't."

"Harry," Severus hissed, taken aback by the boy's bleak, but shrewd conclusions.  He drew himself up haughtily.  "I can assure you, if the Dark Lord were to return to power, his first priority would most certainly not be pursuing a defenseless schoolboy,"  he scoffed.  "You are not at the center of everything, Potter," he jeered, but his tone was too worried to be insulting.

Harry scrunched his face up and shoved his glasses up his nose. "All right.  I know.  You think I'm being all arrogant again, just try to get attention - thinking I'm so important, don't you?"

"Well, if not self-important," Severus admitted with a smirk.  "Perhaps a bit melodramatic?"

"Maybe you're right."  He shrugged dubiously. "Maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe a mad, scary wizard doesn't want to kill me.  I hope I'm wrong.  Cause if I'm right, I promise that's one kind of attention I could do without."

Severus looked down at the scrawny, untidy child expressing stoic concern about things that would send adult wizards into panic, and he felt a bizarre urge to comfort him in some way.  He couldn't imagine embracing the boy, but he sensed some kind of touch was called for.  He hesitantly laid his hand over the boy's fists clenched in his lap, and captured his gaze with his own.

"Let me reassure you, Mr. Potter. . .," he said softly. " I do not believe that is a fear you need ever face.  I am committed to the safety of the Stone, and of all the students at Hogwarts.  No one will gain access to that Stone if I have anything to say about it."

Harry stared back at him, his troubled face softening.  "Thank you, Professor."

"Now, I want you and your friends to put this all behind you.  You should be devoting yourselves to your exam studies,  not fretting over something that is not your problem," he scolded mildly. "Is this clear? No more skulking and whispering - no more clandestine wanderings.  And no more trips to the Forbidden Forest, or the Astronomy Tower.  Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry nodded solemnly.

"You had better.  If I learn you have been involved in any more questionable activities, you will be serving detention - real detention,  scrubbing cauldrons - every night until the end of the term!" he threatened.

"Yes, sir.  I won't sir!" the boy snatched up his bag and backed tentatively for the door.

"And Mr. Potter!" Severus snarled, rising to his full, imposing height.  "The next time you have such. . .worries - kindly bring them to the attention of an adult.  Your Head of House, or any teacher, would be qualified to assist you with your concerns.  It is part of our job, after all."

"Yes, sir,"  Harry nodded with a shy smile.  "I will, Professor.  Thanks for listening," he said as he hurried from the room, then he stuck his head back inside the open door. "And thanks for not yelling. . .much," he added sweetly, then vanished.

Severus huffed.  He had forgotten he had meant to chastise the boy over several of the disturbing and shocking misconducts the boy had confessed.

Unauthorized visits to the third floor? Deadly confrontations with Hagrid's three-headed monster? And what was that about following me  into the Forest?

He wouldn't  bother to call the boy back now.  There was always their next study session.  The cheeky boy would feel thoroughly chastened by the time Severus finished with him.  He would at least be more reluctant to participate in any rule-breaking in the near future!