The rest of winter break passed slowly. Snape didn't approach them again, although more than once at mealtime, Tom or Jay caught the man looking at them, with a particularly considering look in his eyes. The Slytherin hourglass hadn't actually changed, which surprised all of them. Apparently Hogwarts itself had intervened. Or perhaps Salazar. After all, he was one of the Founders, and perhaps he didn't like points taken off his own House, even if warranted?

Echo continued to concern Tom. He didn't come out much around other people, certainly not around Millie, Ron, or Hermione (the four of them had formed a slightly uneasy study group after Ron had apologized just as sincerely to Hermione for bullying her so much). But around anyone in the slightest position of authority, Echo tended to push his way out. His blank mask was unsettling, yet no one seemed to have picked up on anything unusual.

It was a relief, of course, and yet slightly depressing. The system was crumbling even at their bastion of safety, and no one noticed. Typical.

The morning everyone came back was just as cold as the preceding ones, yet the sky was blue and hopeful as Jay trekked his way out to the grounds, awaiting the customary plume of smoke that signaled the train had puffed its way into Hogsmeade station. It was bitterly cold, and he found himself keeping his hands in his pockets to conserve warmth as much as possible.

"Harry!" he heard Hermione's voice behind him and turned, letting Raven come forward as he did so. She started bouncing on her toes excitedly, her face beaming at the sight of her friend.

"Hermione!" she said. "What are you doing out here?"

"Same as you," Hermione shrugged. Her hair was pulled back in an uncomfortable-looking ponytail. "Waiting for the train. It feels so empty with everyone gone."

"Yeah," Raven agreed, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. In the distance, she could see the Weasley twins pelting each other with snowballs, a few smacking Professor Quirrell in the back of the head. "But sometimes that's good. Like when you get more time in the library." She smiled and Hermione smiled back.

"True," Hermione admitted cheerfully. "By the way-Harry, you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?" The girl's gaze turned too meaningful, boring into Raven's, who immediately looked down, cheeks burning.

"Of course," Raven said, confused. What was Hermione going on about?

"Just...making sure," Hermione said, evasive. "Oh, look, the train!" she immediately changed the subject as the train's whistle split the morning air.

What was that all about? Jay wondered as the two girls made their way down the snow-covered hill.

I'm not sure, Tom answered, eyes watchful. But I have a feeling we're going to find out.

Brushing snow off his turban and robes with angry, slightly shaking fingers, Quirinus Quirrell scarcely noticed the Weasley idiots, although he did stutter out a customary points deduction. No, his attention was focused solely on the Potter boy, standing not fifty yards away with a Mudblood first year.

If only, he sighed wistfully, his fingers clenching in their thin gloves. The brat was so alone, so defenseless. All it would take was a few hastily muttered spells and Potter would be under his control. Honestly, it could take even less than that. After all, he was a professor, wasn't he? Who would suspect him? A stuttering pale-faced wretch who smelled of garlic even under the winter sun?

Of course, the garlic was essential. If one was busy smelling garlic, one would not notice the smell it covered up, that particular sickly stench of decay that the Dark Lord carried with him in a perpetual smog. Dreadfully unpleasant that smell, and Quirrell had to admit he preferred the garlic now.

The boy, his Master's voice whispered, and he smirked in acknowledgement. Yes, the boy. With the boy, he knew he could break through the Stone's protections. If nothing else, he could use the brat as a first line of defense against all challenges. An image of Potter at his feet, broken and bleeding, filled his head, and he had to bite his lip hard to stifle a genuine chuckle.

Soon, the Dark Lord promised him, and Quirrell nodded, mostly to himself, as he turned away from the temptation of the snow-dusted first year.

"Enjoying the winter weather, Quirinus?" Severus Snape's icy dark voice shattered his concentration and he nearly leaped into the air, stuttering out a semblance of a reply as he looked at his black-cloaked tormentor.

Snape's eyes were hard, angry as usual. Quirrell merely sneered in reply, but weakly, his upper lip trembling. He couldn't let anyone know that anything was not as it appeared. Snapesuspected, but suspicion is not the same as proof, not by a long shot.

"I b-b-believe I'll g-go b-b-back inside now, S-s-s-severus," he stammered out, gathering up his dignity like his thick cloak and walking inside. The sound of Snape's laughter burned.

I'll show you, he vowed as he slipped up to his quarters. He could use a stiff drink before the rest of the brats showed up. You won't be laughing when the Dark Lord's returned, Severus. I'll ensure that myself.