Heather Black carefully placed the nifflers in separate cages, so they could be handled easily by the students. They weren't the most exciting creatures around, but they were a good introduction to magical creatures for the third years. Even wizarding children were rarely acquainted with even a fraction of the magical animals that existed in their world.

Of course many of the magical animals were shy and quite good at hiding – like the unicorns. Or they might be quite intelligent and long-lived, like the dragons. Many were dangerous, of course and even wizards approached them with caution. Heather was mostly interested in the study of unicorns – just as her mother was, but knowledge was never to be sniffed at and learning about other magical animals would be a good thing.

She'd been reminded that her mother, Ruth, had been able to persuade the Director of the Dragon Reserve to let her study the unicorn herds by demonstrating an ample knowledge of the dragons and numerous other magical creatures she was sure lived quietly there in Wales.

Yuan Chang had been impressed with Ruth's broad knowledge of creatures and had granted her request to stay there 'possibly for decades'. A thorough look at the herds could take a long time – but wizards and witches did have the long lives to invest in lenthy research, after all.

Heather hoped to complete a mastery quickly, so she could join Ruth on the Reserve. Professor Kettleburn was very smart when it came to magical creatures, but getting too old to dodge when a dangerous one took a swipe at him. Hagrid, bless the gentle giant, blithely dragged home even more homicidal creatures and offered to show them to Kettleburn's classes with a jolly grin.

Hagrid seemed unaware of the creatures danger to the children, showing rather touching confidence in the animals 'misunderstood natures'. Heather shook her head with a chuckle. Hagrid simply couldn't imagine his pets deliberately harming anyone, failing to see that the bruises and scrapes the animals gave him would translate to broken bones and lacerations on a child.

Her first weeks of classes, watching Kettleburn teach had been quite informative – she was sure she could never summon the patience to deal with groups of children. One or two, perhaps if they were truly motivated to learn, but not a entire herd of restless, distracted idiots ... er, students.

The older students hadn't been so bad – several seemed quite interested in magical animals. Percy Weasley for instance, and Tom Riddle. Both of them had cornered her after their classes to grill her on her dragon knowledge. She'd been impressed – they both knew at least as much as her. She'd only managed to impress them by being in possession of a few books they didn't have.

Tom had shown her a copy spell and with her permission had copied the books, though one was spelled against it. He'd not been discouraged though and had vowed to send to a bookstore for it.

She'd realized at some point the Tom lived on the Welsh Reserve – he and his family had been away most of the summer and they'd never run across each other. She and her mum had heard that Harry Potter lived nearby, but since they'd never lived in Britain their 'hero worship' of the 'Boy Who Lived' was toned down to a mere curiousity and perhaps a bit of awe that a baby had survived an encounter with Voldemort.

Here at the school, she'd watched Harry Potter with his friends, her eyes easily picking out the Malfoy child. Heather knew that his mother was a Black, and it made her a bit nervous. The times Lucius had visited the school, she'd made herself scarce. Ruth believed that since he'd divorced Narcissa he was unlikely to be a danger – or she'd never have moved to the Welsh Reserve where he frequently visited. Still, Heather was wary of him.

After all, a granddaughter of the squib Marius Black may not be all that welcome. Marius had warned them that many of the Black family firmly believed that the only good squib was a dead squib. Luckily others in the family felt otherwise and had given him sacks of gold and letters of introduction and had smuggled him to Europe.

She wished Grampa Marius had lived long enough to see Voldemort's end.

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Voldemort watched closely – as he always did - while at the table in the Great Hall. He always tried to sit next to Snape, as he was most likely to have information that he wanted. He was quite put out at the Potions Master's defection to the light.

True, he'd promised to spare Lily Potter for Snape – but it hadn't been possible to do so and Snape should understand that. He mused that Snape had withstood numerous cruciatus' from Voldemort and had stood firm when he had shrieked threats of horrific deaths at the man while he'd begged for the woman's life. Perhaps he'd underestimated Snape's love for Lily Potter.

Voldemort simply didn't understand such devotion when it was given freely, though he did demand single-minded fervor from his followers. He didn't value anyone like that for himself, so it was beyond his understanding why others went to the lengths they did for someone they professed to love when they recieved nothing in return.

It was why he ruled the Death Eaters with fear and pain – it was the only inducements he understood. He didn't trust that they would stay with him for any other reason. He never figured out how Dumbledore could get people to die for him out of love or devotion to his cause ... yet another reason to hate the crazy old loon.

The only sop to Voldemort's pride was that it was increasingly obvious that Snape was devoted to Harry Potter now, and much less so to Dumbledore. This had become clear during the meetings that the Heads of House, Albus and Quirrell had gone to while planning the protections to the Sorceror's Stone.

Albus had been carrying the Stone with him everywhere since the school year had started. He felt this was dangerous to continue and had insisted they make a 'gauntlet' for any potential thief to have to get through to get the Stone.

Snape had inexplicably been livid. Voldemort had approved heartily through Quirrell.

While the others had listed off 'traps' that they felt would hold any intruders long enough for the others to respond and stop the thief, Snape had been tight-lipped and angry.

It had been Quirrell's turn to speak and he'd stuttered out brightly, "I have a w-way with trolls – I figure a chamber with a t-troll in it should stop most anyone, at least for a time." The other teachers had nodded approvingly, though Snape had merely sniffed and grimaced.

"Make sure the final chamber cannot be entered other than by the one entrance – I'll guard it with Black dragonfire. I'll leave a table full of poisons – and one that will let the drinker through the fire." Snape smirked hatefully. "There will be a logic puzzle they'll have to undo to figure out which is which."

The others had looked impressed and Flitwick and applauded eagerly. "Oh, I love those – mind if I have a peek at the puzzle?" Snape had nodded agreeably – he likely intended Filius to assist him in making it harder, Voldemort sneered, making Quirrells face grimace a bit as well.

Voldemort fumed angrily. He hated logic puzzles. He always became frustrated and then angry ... and then someone nearby would get crucioed. He'd been pretty good at them at school, he recalled. Soon after he had started making his third or forth Horcrux his temper had become much more volatile, he privately admitted. No matter – he had others to figure out logic puzzles. Or in this case, he had Quirrell who really was quite clever when terrified into it.

The meeting had finally ended and Snape had stayed, obviously intending to rant at Albus a bit. Quirrell dropped some papers just outside the door, and cast a listening charm while he slowly picked up papers. Even with the charm the voices were low and not easy to understand.

"I know this is not to trap the dark lord as much as to test Harry." Severus had hissed.

This had surprised Voldemort. If true, it was something to file away and think about. He knew there was a prophecy – one that said that Harry Potter could destroy him. He knew that the Headmaster believed it ... as did he. Of course the old fool would consider the boy a weapon. It must be he felt he needed to start honing the weapon at age eleven. Snape obviously resented this ... Hmm, perhaps Harry Potter would as well.

Dumbledore blathered numerous denials mixed with reassurances that Harry could come to no harm. Snape didn't believe a word of it.

"I can't carry the stone forever, Severus. The gauntlet has numerous alarms that will allow us to respond quickly to any threat to it. The last one, that I'm making with the mirror will confound anyone – even you." Albus did his best to reassure Severus. "I need to be able to leave Hogwarts at times – for the Wizengamot and other duties. I can't take the stone off the grounds – and leaving it with Minerva ... well that is also problematic."

Snape rolled his eyes and snorted. Problematic, indeed. While they had been questioning Stubbs, Minerva had been babysitting the Stone. She'd paled when it had been handed to her and had sat at Albus' desk, wand at the ready the entire time. She'd almost hexed them when they came back through the floo.

Voldemort ground Quirrell's teeth as he listened. If only he'd known that Albus had left the stone when he'd gone...

"Well, Fluffy's been in place for quite some time, and most of these other traps can be placed soon. I just need to get the mirror from the Department of Mysteries. They are being stubborn, it may not be here before Christmas break." Albus fretted. "Of course, we can put the stone in the final chamber even before then ..."

Severus snarled unhappily. "No, not unless we must. Give Lucius a job – he can get some friends in the ministry to pry the mirror out of there. We'll have it all set up before Halloween."

Voldemort and Quirrell frowned. Why was the mirror important? What would it do?

Albus sighed. "I am truly weary of being on alert 24/7. This constant expectation of attack is more tiring than I thought."

Severus smirked rather meanly. This was all Albus' doing – let him feel the weight of his mechinations. The Stone could have been secreted elsewhere, Severus felt, though exactly where that would have been, he didn't know.

"Well, I would be happy to wall you and the stone up in that final chamber with a bed and a house-elf to serve you food. You can easily guard it for as long as it takes to get the mirror here and get plenty of sleep." Severus smiled almost sweetly as he offered this - in a voice oozing concerned sympathy.

Dumbledore actually laughed hilariously. "Don't tempt me, Severus. I truly am a bit sleep-deprived. But I did promise Nicholas that I would only allow myself or Minerva to handle the stone until we put it in whatever protection we devised, or I would be pressing you to take a turn with it."

Severus froze. To have the Sorceror's Stone in his hand – even for a moment. He'd not allowed himself to even think of it when they'd been told they would be guarding it. Now ... though Albus had already said he would not ... it was intoxicating to even think of. He could remember a time when he would have grabbed the stone with both hands. The things a Potions Master could likely do with it ... Severus shook his head and glared at Albus for saying such a thing. Albus was not the only one wary of being in possession of too much power.

"I'll owl Lucius and tell him to come over." Albus said mildly, watching the play of emotions over the younger wizards face. Severus truly had come a long way from the power-hungry young man he'd once been. "I don't want to put this in writing – or even in a firecall."

Severus nodded shortly, still disturbed by Albus' assertion that he would have put the stone in Severus' hands if he'd not made that promise. They headed out the door and Severus immediately looked down the hall, and saw Quirrell's purple robes and turban round the corner. His eyes met Albus' in concern, but Albus just sighed and shook his head.

"Do you think he is working for Voldemort, Severus?" Albus asked quietly. "Are you able to sense his thoughts?"

Severus twitched his shoulders in irritation. "His mind is fairly well shielded, and when I do get in – the thoughts are very confused. As well – his aura is...muddy – I don't recall his aura being like that before. I don't know what effects his encounter with the vampire would have led to ..." Severus shook his head as well. "He may be in league with the Dark Lord. Certainly listening to our conversation is suspicious."

Albus nodded almost absently and walked toward his tower, deep in thought.

Quirrell scuttled toward his office, muttering to his master. "M-m-maybe the Headmaster will leave, again. McGonagall would be easier to rob."

Voldemort hesitated. "Perhaps, perhaps." he mused.

Severus ambled toward the dungeons, he definately was suspicious of Quirrell. Albus was sure Voldemort would make a move with the stone here. Quirrell was top of Severus' list at the moment.

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Harry and Draco followed the Quidditch team toward the pitch, along with a few other brave first years. Captain Flint lead the crowd, strutting a bit. He knew he was a mediocre student, and a mid-level in power wizard. Enough to get things done, not enough to impress the wizarding world in general ... except in this, his passion – Quidditch.

Marcus always hoped to Captain the team for a couple years before leaving the school. He even planned to have to repeat a year to do so. It would look good on the resume, and he planned to sweep the cup as many times as he could to impress the captains of the professional teams. He knew he hadn't the charisma of Oliver Wood or the smarts of the Ravenclaw captain, but he was a slytherin – he would find a way.

The idea of Snape's – testing the first years and getting them ready ahead of time to possibly start in the Qudditch team had merit. Malfoy and Potter could possibly take the places of the Chasers that were leaving next year. Higgs insisted they were good and had said his uncle was impressed with them.

The members of the team from the year before that still wished to play stood ready to defend their places. Those wishing to try out looked grim and determined. The first years wanting to be a part of the 'second string in training' were there, looking nervous.

The Quidditch stands were partly full – tryouts were a good time to look over the competition. The Ravenclaws had been there here a few days ago, with a large group of onlookers. Even teachers – especially Heads of House attended. Severus was there today, mostly to watch Harry.

The first string team, with a couple of alternates was quickly chosen. One of the second years was looking fairly good as a future seeker. The first years were offered brooms by the older teammates, to show off their skills. Montague lent his broom to Draco and Terrence Higgs offered his to Harry, who took it with a relieved smile.

Marcus flew with the two, tossing the quaffle back and forth. The Beaters blasted a few bludgers at them to see if they knew how to dodge. Marcus was reluctantly impressed. They knew a few tricks and were good together as a team – able to predict where each other would go. They merely needed to learn to include a third chaser – him - into the mix. Millicent Bulstrode was chosen as well – a definate beater in the making.

Marcus barked out a few orders, told them the practice schedule would be posted. The three first years would only attend the Saturday practices. The three first years bounced happily. Millicent banging Draco and Harry on the back cheerfully. They gasped at the blows a bit, but refused to yelp when hit by a 'mere girl', even if it did feel like Hagrid was walloping them.

Severus watched with satisfaction. Harry and Draco were well on their way to being on the Slytherin team. He'd have been happier if Harry had had no interest in the blasted game, but he'd known that was unlikely to happen. Between being James Potter's son and having an Osprey as an animagus form it was a bit inevitable. Since he was forbidden to try to transform at present, perhaps this was the best alternative to keep him happy.

Tom watched the Slytherin tryouts with his roommates – three of them were on the Gryffindor team. Oliver Wood was with them, fretting over Flints choices.

"Why does he always put gorillas ont he team?" Oliver fumed.

"Well, they are harder to knock off brooms and they blast a mean bludger." One of them answered.

Wood huffed in aggravation. "I still don't understand why he's trying out the first years." Wood looked over at Tom slowly, obviously hoping Tom would know and tell them.

Tom thought it over carefully. He did know, of course, and it really wasn't a secret. "A bunch of the team are either leaving or deciding to concentrate on their NEWT's next year. If there are any likely first year flyers, he intends to start training them, now – so they'll be ready next year." Tom answered casually, hoping that would be an end to it.

Tom had always been an indifferent flyer, though he enjoyed watching Quidditch. The World Cup had certainly been exciting – such excellence in anything was a pleasure to watch. Now that he had Yvane's memories of flying and the dragon's borrowed emotions of bliss at flying, he could understand why someone would be obsessed with it. It was a bit like what Tom felt when he'd discover yet another important memory of Yvane's that he just needed to pensieve and copy for Percy or Severus & Lucius.

Wood had turned back to watch the Slytherin team, face full of mixed emotions of jealousy at Flint's ingenuity and determination – probably intending to copy them. Tom mentally conceded that Wood did need all the help he could get – even if it meant copying the Slytherin Captain. Wood was only a fourth year, and though he'd become the keeper of the team in his second year, that meant he'd only been playing two years before becoming Captain.

Wood seemed quite passionate about it all, and Tom hoped he won against everyone but Harry. Luckily Tom would be graduated by the time Harry hit the field, so he could cheer for anyone he wished.

Tom listened to the other Gryffindors mutter some more, then turned back to the book he'd copied from Heather Black. An interesting girl.

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