Flitwick boosted the wall torches to maximum burn with a swish of his wand.  Bright light washed over the dusty third floor corridor, sending small unseen inhabitants skittering into the shadows away from the unwelcome glare. Severus and Flitwick rushed to the door standing ajar at the end of the hallway.  A trio of threatening growls and snarls heralded their approach.

The Charms Professor took a wary glance inside.  With an easy flourish, he set the abandoned harp upright and a lilting lullaby began to ring from its strings. By silent agreement, both wizards waited only as long as it took for the three dog-heads to nod and close their eyes, before they crept  noiselessly into the open trap at the creature's feet.  Together, they made short work of the first two defenses, then entered the Chess Room.    They passed by the unconscious McGonagall without noticing her in the dusty shadows.

In one sense, they were lucky.  When Weasley and Granger had remained where they were on the checkered floor, the chess board had not reset itself.  Flitwick agreed to tend to the injured boy, while Snape rushed on ahead in pursuit of Potter.  Severus stepped over the insensible troll, barely giving it a glance.  At his own challenge, he snatched up the smallest potion bottle, magically refilled, swallowed the contents, and charged through the black flames. He reached for the door to the final chamber, his heart racing. "Harry!"

A piercing pain lanced through his left arm - pain so intense, so excruciating, that he couldn't even summon breath to scream. He crashed to his knees, clutching his forearm and fighting the darkness that clouded his vision.  He knew that pain....he knew what it meant, and the realization horrified him beyond reasoning.

No!  Merlin help me!  Not Him - Not here!

This panicked, sickening recognition was his last conscious thought as the agony spiked, and his mind , overwhelmed, plummeted into a dark fog of torment.

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Harry fought with all his dwindling strength, hanging onto Quirrell as tightly as he could.

Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off - the pain in Harry's head was building - he couldn't see - he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM!  KILL HIM!"  and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying "Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down... down... down...  *

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Severus rose to consciousness slowly.  He shook his aching head to clear his mind.  The first lucid thought that surfaced was,  the pain was gone.  His arm throbbed, as if the muscles were knotted and strained by tension, but the Dark Mark itself was numb.

Dragging himself to his feet, Severus opened the door and stumbled into the larger chamber ahead.  He stood, swaying dizzily for a moment, his frantic gaze taking in details.  The Mirror Of Erised sat undisturbed in the center of the room, a swath of purple fabric puddled off to the side.  Harry Potter lay sprawled, unmoving, before it.  Beside him, a strange deposit of black ash was laid out in the precise shape of a man's prone body.  Severus' heart leapt into his throat.

"Harry!"  He crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to the boy's side, away from the grisly outline. Shaking fingers pressed to the pulse point on Harry's warm neck answered the most critical question.  He was alive.  Severus watched the boy's thin chest rise and fall, his own pulse slowing to a more normal rate.  Forcing himself to take control of his spiraling thoughts, he ran a quick diagnostic spell over Harry's still body - a field version, not comprehensive but adequate for an emergency. A few minor scrapes and contusions floated up, but the only serious damage recorded was to the boy's magical core, which was severely depleted.

What did you do?  What happened here, boy?

One of Harry's grimy hands lay open, fingers lightly curled around the source of the whole night's misadventure.  Severus resisted the urge to snatch up the Philosopher's Stone and fling it across the room.  Instead, he knocked it aside and gathered the small body up, cradling the boy on his lap as if he were merely a babe.

"Harry?. . .Harry!" he called softly, desperately willing the child to awaken.  But Harry didn't stir, not even when Severus climbed awkwardly to his feet with the boy balanced in his arms.

"Severus?"

Snape looked up into Dumbledore's questioning gaze.  There was so much he wanted to say. . .so much he could say. . .but he didn't.  His furious glare drilled into Albus' hazy blue eyes with barely controlled outrage.   "There's your precious Stone," he hissed softly, nodding at the red crystal on the floor.  "It's safe now, thanks to Potter."

"And Harry?"  Albus glanced anxiously down at the boy, reaching out as if to take him from Snape's arms.

But Severus stepped back, clutching the boy to his chest protectively.  "He's alive," he reported curtly.  "I'm taking him to the Infirmary."  Without waiting for either permission or approval, Severus turned and marched resolutely from the chamber with the boy in his arms.  The Stone's defensive charms had all been deactivated, presumably by Dumbledore upon his arrival.  In the Chess Room, Severus paused near the exit where  Pomona Sprout knelt, supporting a woozy McGonagall.

"Minerva?"

"She'll be fine," Sprout reported.  She brandished her wand at the side of Minerva's bloody head, sealing an ugly gash.  "Just a nasty knock."

"The other children?"

"Filius took them to the Infirmary."

Minerva looked up with an anxious frown.  "Is Harry. . .?"

"He's all right," Severus reassured her.  "I'm taking him to Poppy now."  He continued his urgent mission, stepping over the lifeless Devil's Snare and pausing to stare up at the trap door high above their heads.  He was trying to decide the safest method for their exit, when a brilliant flash erupted beside him.  Albus' phoenix hovered in the air, eyeing him with sympathy.  He trilled a promising refrain.

"It's all right Professor.  Ye can come up - Fluffy's gone."

Severus looked up at Hagrid's broad face framed in the trap door.  With a nod, he repositioned Harry against his chest, clasping him firmly with one arm, and grasping Fawkes' golden tail feathers with the other.  In a startling flash, they burst upward into the chamber above.  Severus expected the phoenix to set him down at once, but to his surprise, Fawkes soared through the open door into the corridor and out into the vast stairwell. Severus nervously clutched boy and feather tighter as the phoenix flew his burden with breath-taking speed right to the very doors of the Infirmary.  With a soft chirp, Fawkes deposited Severus gently on his feet.

"Thank you," Severus acknowledged breathlessly.

Fawkes warbled, then disappeared in a flash.  Severus shifted Harry in his arms again, and backed into the Infirmary. 

When he laid the unconscious boy on the nearest bed, Poppy Pomphrey bustled from around a nearby screen.  "Merciful Merlin!  Another one?" 

Severus stepped back to give the medi-witch room to work. "Professor McGonagall was also injured.  They'll bring her up shortly."

"Gracious! Only three days left in the term. . .you'd think you lot could stay out of trouble that long at least!" Poppy grumbled while performing several diagnostic spells at once. "What about Professor Quirrell?  Someone said he was down there too."

With grim satisfaction, Severus recalled the charred outline in the chamber.  "Professor Quirrell is, I believe, beyond even your formidable skills, Madame.  How are the other students?"

"Mr. Weasley had a mild concussion and a sprained ankle. . .Miss Granger, a few cuts and bruises.  I'll release them both in the morning, " Poppy reported.  "Mr. Potter here, doesn't appear to be physically harmed, but his magical core is depleted.  He must have done something quite powerful to expend so much energy."  She straightened and sighed.  "He'll most likely sleep for several days.  It's what he needs, really, to give his body and his magic time to recover."

Severus sat down by Harry's bed and watched the medi-witch heal the boy's minor scrapes, then change him into soft pajamas before swathing him with warming blankets.  When the other Professors arrived, Albus and Pomona supporting an unsteady Minerva between them, Severus stood by the elderly witch's bed in silent support while Poppy treated her.  Minerva fussed irritably, exhorting her friend not to pester her, but she seemed to be her usual sharp-witted self and soon began demanding answers.

A long session of complex, sometimes conflicting, explanations ensued, joined by both Granger and Weasley, who had been awakened by the voices.  It was much later that they had finally managed to piece together the night's events.  The only details missing, to Severus' mind, was Harry's lone experience, and a few minor points in the Headmaster's rather sketchy comments that he decided to analyze at a later time.  Once Poppy had assured him that Harry was still sleeping peacefully, Severus slipped out of the Infirmary, suddenly remembering his godson.

When he lowered the wards and entered his office, he found Draco sound asleep in the large overstuffed chair in the corner. There were only a few short hours left before dawn, and he saw no need to wake the child at this point.  He conjured a blanket, covered the sleeping boy and left him a note, inviting Draco to join him in his chambers for breakfast when he awoke.

Severus returned to his quarters for a much needed nap, but true rest eluded him. He didn't want to risk undressing and laying down on his bed, in case he was needed in haste.  So he sprawled in his chair by the fire, going over the events of the night in his mind.  He was upset with Potter for doing precisely what he had warned him against:  taking responsibility for the safety of the Stone - a hazardous artifact no boy should have to protect.

But overwhelming his anger was a fierce sense of relief that Harry had survived the ordeal unharmed.  He could hardly believe the boy's luck.  The plucky child had somehow defeated both Quirrell - (obviously more dangerous than any of them had suspected) - and the man's powerful Master.

Severus didn't know how Quirrell had managed it, but there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind - the traitorous DADA instructor had somehow brought the Dark Lord here - inside the wall of Hogwarts. Severus hadn't seen him - he didn't have to.  The burning of his Dark Mark could have no other origin.

It had done more than pain him - it had terrified Severus.  For ten years he had prayed this day would never come.  He had always doubted the Dark Lord was truly dead, but he had dared to hope his old Master was so weakened that he would never return to Britain. . .at least, not in Severus' lifetime.  Now that hope was gone.  The Dark Lord's malevolent spirit, or soul (if one so evil possessed such a thing), was not only roaming the country, but had entered unnoticed, the very stronghold of his greatest enemy.  Somehow - perhaps due to his wraithlike condition- he had succeeded in circumventing the most powerful protective wards in the wizarding world.

Albus believed, like Harry had,  that Voldemort's vile spirit was seeking a way to re-incorporate - to reanimate and take corporeal form again.  If that was the Dark Lord's plan, Severus did not doubt he would succeed eventually.  There were ways through the Darkest Arts that such a resurrection could be achieved - terrible, dangerous ways that cursed the Resurrected for eternity.  But his former Master feared no such curses. . . he was utterly insane - the embodiment of evil, fouler than the foulest curse that magic could effect.  He would stop at nothing to attain his goals.

Severus didn't know what he would do if the Dark Lord did rise again.  But tonight's events had galvanized him out of the passive illusion that his years at Hogwarts had submerged him in.  Plans and preparations he had started some years before, would need to be revitalized and modified.  He vowed he would not be lulled into a false security again.

Severus finally managed to doze off and on in his chair, gaining  meager rest, until Draco awoke him some time after nine.  He sat at the table with his godson, sipping Roker's hottest, strongest coffee, and blearily answering Draco's endless questions.

He told the boy the basics of the previous night's adventures.  There was no reason not to, since rumor had already swept through the school.  The favored story, was that Quirrell had tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone - a valuable artifact that Dumbledore was storing at Hogwarts for a friend - and that Potter, Weasley and Granger had inadvertently foiled the burglary attempt.  Severus let this version of events stand. He did not mention the Dark Lord, however.  He didn't want Lucius Malfoy or any other Death Eater learning that Voldemort , in any form, had returned to Britain.  If the Dark Lord had not announced his presence to his former followers, Severus wasn't going to do it for him.  He reasoned that his former Master was merely cautious and didn't want the more powerful of his followers - possible rivals to his leadership - to know he was so weak.  And Severus had no wish to give his former associates a rallying point of hope.

As soon as Draco finished eating, Severus hustled him out with the promise that he could breakfast with him again the day before the students departed for the summer.  Then he treated himself to a hot shower and fresh robes, and made his way back to the Infirmary.

Harry, still sleeping, was Poppy's only remaining patient.  Following assurances from the mediwitch that the boy was recovering, Severus sat by his bed, watching him sleep.  The child moved little, but his hands clenched fretfully from time to time, as if he was uneasy even in his dreams.  After observing him for a while, Severus left the Infirmary, wandering down to the third floor.

A metal staircase had replaced the trap door and the treacherous drop below.  Flitwick, Filch and Hooch, along with a swarm of house elves, were busy removing and clearing away all signs of the deadly traps that had guarded the Stone, and Severus found he could stroll without impediment to the large chamber where he had found Harry.

Albus was there, overseeing two house elves who were meticulously sweeping the remains of Quinius Quirrell into a small stone box.  The Headmaster greeted him with a cheery wave.  Severus noted the old wizard's eyes were twinkling with even more revolting charm than usual.

"Severus, my dear boy!  I do hope you got some rest!" Albus chirped, then wagged a finger at one of the elves.  "Ah, ah! Just the ash, Hopi - no dead spiders or other rubbish if you please."  The elf gave him a mischievous smile.  "Ah, well,"  Albus sighed.  "I don't suppose it really matters - not to Professor Quirrell, at this point.  Never mind - just sweep it all up."  The elves cleared the dusty floor with flickering speed and closed the box.  They handed it to the Headmaster and popped out of the room.

Severus stood, coolly studying the Mirror of Erised.  "This is where you hid it?"

Albus nodded.  "Quirrell couldn't see it.  Only someone who wanted to protect the Stone could see it."

"Like Potter?"

"Yes - like Harry."

"So if Potter hadn't rushed to the rescue, Quirrell would never have found it - he couldn't steal the Stone, could he?" Severus asked evenly.

Albus sighed.  "It's very unlikely. . . .of course, Harry didn't know that."

"No," Severus agreed.  "He didn't."  He turned and stared at the Headmaster.  "So it's true, then?" he asked softly.  "Did you arrange all this?"

"Arrange?  What do you mean?"  Albus' expression was one of supreme innocence.

"All of it. . .your urgent call to the Ministry. . .the diplomatic meeting that took Filius and I both out of the picture? A meeting that mysteriously never occurred, by the way.  Was this all a trap?  Set up to draw Quirrell out?  Or was Potter your real target?"

"Harry?  Severus, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Potter has an invisibility cloak," Severus stated flatly.  "Draco saw it.  It was Harry's father's, wasn't it?  Did you give it to him, Albus?"

"James left it in my care, with instructions to pass it on to Harry when he started Hogwarts," Albus admitted with a dismissive shrug.  "No doubt he hoped his son would use it for pranking;  to carry on the old Marauder legacy for  mischief," he chuckled.

"Harry is not James," Severus declared coldly.  "He's nothing like his father.  You, of all people, should know that."

Albus gave him an appraising look.  "I do know that.  I wasn't aware that you did."

Severus occluded his mind and drew himself up haughtily.  "The younger Mr. Potter obviously has some foolish, misguided predilection for ‘saving the day'. . . .a rash impulse that should not be allowed to persist, Headmaster.  If you wish me to continue to protect the little brat, I'll ask you not to encourage any future heroics!" 

"I'll do my best, Severus," Albus agreed, his lips twitching with amusement. "But one never know when random events will conspire to satisfy fate."

Severus gave him one of his best Greasy Git - ex-Death Eater - snarky bat from the dungeon glares. . .which Albus dismissed cheerfully.  "Well, I must be off.  I've promised Nicholas and Perenelle to lunch with them.  They were remarkably understanding about the whole business - quite ready for the Stone's destruction, I think." Albus smiled.  "I cannot say I blame them.  I can't imagine living over six hundred years. . . I've not lived a quarter so long, and it makes me weary just to think of it." The Headmaster ambled out, pausing to nod benevolently at the cleaning crew in the previous chamber.

Severus watched him until the old wizard was out of sight.  "Random events. . .satisfy fate . . . .Barmy old coot!" he muttered.  He wasn't entirely convinced the old man had actively arranged for Potter to confront Quirrell.  The idea was, admittedly, almost too devious for Albus.  But it was a dangerous risk if he had, particularly with the Dark Lord added to the mix.  Severus didn't wish to ponder the horrifying outcome if the boy had not prevailed.

Surely Albus wouldn't intentionally put Harry in danger, would he?  I'm certain he cares for the boy.

No, at worst, Albus was careless and overconfident.  He had left Hogwarts inadequately protected, and trusted in Quirrell too blindly.  The old man must truly be getting senile.

With a sigh, Severus turned to leave, and caught a glimpse of himself  reflected in the Mirror of Erised.  He paused, considering his murky image.  ‘A truly contented man will see only himself, just as he is,' Albus had said of the Mirror's properties.  Severus stared curiously.  His reflection stared coldly back - harshly accurate. . .unflattering. . .alone.

"A contented man," Severus snorted to himself.  He started to turn away when a flicker of movement in the Mirror caught his eye.  He froze.  From out of the misty darkness surrounding his reflection, another figure immerged.  It was a small boy, with untidy hair and too-large glasses.  The boy scampered up to stand beside the Mirror- Snape.  His reflection smiled gravely down at the child.  The boy reached up and took his hand, then turned to face the living man that watched them.  Large green eyes regarded him fondly; a crooked grin lit his face, and the Mirror-Harry winked at him.

Severus stumbled from the room, furious with himself.

Fool!  Idiot!  You've let the boy get too close!  You delude yourself, you pathetic man!  You're no fit role model for any boy, much less this one!

You're a bitter, cold man. . .a reformed Death Eater. . .the students' nightmare and the Terror of Hogwarts!  You don't deserve a child like Harry.  And he deserves better than you, so get such notions right out of your head.  This is The-Boy-Who-Lived!  The Savior of the Wizarding World!  Dumbledore's Golden Child!  This is James' son. . . . James' and Lily's son. . . .

The child needs a proper mentor, not a burned-out old Potions Master who can't even show that he cares.. . .

He lectured himself sternly all the way back to the Infirmary, then sat on the bed beside Potter to guard his sleep.