The next several months passed by quickly. Harry wished he could spend all day flying. But he still had classes and around Easter Break Hermione started making up study schedules for herself, Harry, and Neville. It was hard to believe their first year at Hogwarts was coming to an end.

Harry and his fellow students would soon be taking their exams. Percy was taking his O.W.L.s which covered everything they had learned over the last five years. These tests were very important Hermione explained. How you did on them affected what classes you could take and even your career choices after Hogwarts.

That was too far away to think about for Harry. He was more concerned about remembering the incantation for lighting his wand and making sure his pin cushion didn't run away in terror like it had this morning in Transfiguration. He just wanted to pass these exams and enjoy his summer holidays, as much as he could at the Dursleys'.

The exams were not the only thing between Harry and his summer. They were still trying to figure out who Nicolas Flamel, until Draco jinxed Neville one afternoon, Neville bunny hopped in the Gryffindor Common Room. Draco had come across the other boy in the corridor. He was looking for somebody to practice the Leg-Locker Curse on. Neville just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Harry gave his friend the last of the chocolate frogs he received for Christmas as Hermione worked to unstick his legs.

"Do you want the card," Neville asked taking it from the bottom of the carton.

Harry took it, "Dumbledore again. He was the first one I ever got." Harry flipped it over to the back. He groaned in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked straightening up.

Harry passed her the card.

She read out loud,"'Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel’!" She spoke faster as she read. "That's it! We've found him!" She took off up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

The boys shared a confused look. Hermione returned moments later a huge leather-bound book under one arm.

"I picked this up last week for a little light reading," she said setting it on the table in front of Harry. Hermione read, "The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixer of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist, and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)."

"You see what this means don't you?" Hermione asked.

Neville shook his head.

"The thing Fluffy is guarding, the thing they're trying to steal, it's the Sorcerer's Stone," Harry concluded.

"Who would want to do that?" Neville asked.

"I can think of one," Harry said.

"Who?"

"Voldemort," Harry replied.

Both Hermione and Neville gasped. They had never heard him say the name.

"But he's gone, Harry." Hermione protested. "You defeated him."

"But he still has followers," Harry insisted.

"That's different than it being You-Know-Who," Neville argued.

"Didn't your gran say that it must have been dark wizards who broke into Gringotts? The break-in was the same day as Hagrid got something at the bank. He told us he was doing an errand for Dumbledore." Harry continued.

"Still that doesn't mean it's You-Know-Who," Hermione countered. "Who at Hogwarts would want to steal it?"

"Hagrid said Professor Snape was bitten by Fluffy. He was trying to get into where it was guarding." Neville said.

"And he wasn't muttering and wouldn't break eye contact," Hermione added.

"I don't think it was him," Harry said shaking his head. "And why would he try to kill me at the Quidditch match? If he wanted to kill me he could have done it then."

"Harry," Hermione insisted.

"My gran said he was a Death Eater," Neville added.

"Death Eater?" Harry asked confused.

"Supporters of You-Know-Who," Hermione explained.

"Why would Dumbledore let him teach if he was a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

Neville shrugged.

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, you have to admit, it doesn't look good."

"Then who else would steal it?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Harry huffed.

"Maybe we should keep an eye on him," Neville suggested.

Hermione and Harry stared at their friend.

"If he is trying to steal the Stone, we can find out when he's going to do it. If it isn't him, maybe we'll figure out who is," proposed Neville.

"Okay," they agreed.

This plan was much easier in theory than practice. They all had classes they needed to attend. Harry had Quidditch practice that was being stepped up with the approaching match. Which meant it was up to Neville and Hermione most of the time, but they often for chased off by Filch, or lost Snape when he went into the teachers' lounge.

Harry's confidence that it wasn't Professor Snape was shaken a few days into their surveillance routine. He was the last to put away his broom after Quidditch practice. He heard Professor Snape's voice and stepped a bit closer to see he could make out the words. He could just see him when he peaked around the corner of the shed.

“...d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet, Severus..." Quirrell stuttered.

Why would Professor Snape want to talk to Quirrell and behind the pitch? Harry didn't have to wait long for his answer.

"I thought it was best if we keep this private." Said, Snape. "Have you found how to get past Hagrid's beast yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I --"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell." Professor Snape said taking a step closer to the trembling Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

"I-I don't know what you --"

"How about your little bit of hocus-pocus? I'm waiting."

"B-b-but I d-d-don't---"

"Very well," Professor Snape snapped, "We'll have another chat in a little soon when you've had time to think where your loyalties lie."

Harry dashed back to Gryffindor Tower. He found Neville and Hermione tucked into a back corner of the Common Room studying for their exams. Harry told them everything he had overhead.

"Harry, this isn't good. I know you don't want to believe it's Professor Snape, but think about it." Hermione urged.

"I know," Harry conceded.

"Snape, Voldemort, or whoever is that's trying to steal the Stone isn't going to take it, not while Dumbledore is here," Neville interjected.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Haven't you ever heard, Dumbledore was the only person You-Know-Who ever feared?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. That put him at ease for awhile. Instead, he worried about passing his exams and beating Ravenclaw for the Quidditch Cup.

He didn't remember much of that first exam week. His head hurt more than it ever had before. It wasn't a normal headache, though. It seemed to be centered around his scar. He rubbed it ideally at dinner the evening of their final exam.

"Are you alright," Hermione asked watching the agitated motion.

"My head hurts," Harry confessed.

"Go see Madam Pomfrey," Neville suggested.

Harry shook his head. "I think it's a warning."

"Warning about what?"

"Danger is coming," Harry said casting a gaze up to the Head Table. "Dumbledore's gone."

Hermione and Neville looked up too. The Headmaster was missing from his center seat.

"Maybe he just left early," Neville suggested.

Harry got up from the table, his friends following close behind.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked.

"We need to find out if Dumbledore is really gone," Harry stated. He looked around the entrance hall. "Does anybody know where Dumbledore's office is?"

Both his friends shook their heads.

"What are you three doing loitering out here?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"We need to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione answered for them.

The Deputy Headmistress raised a questioning eyebrow, "And why is that Miss Granger?"

"It's sort of a secret," Hermione said lamely.

Harry's tactic was completely different. He said, "We think somebody is going to try and steal the Sorcerer's Stone."

It was obvious that whatever she was expecting them to say it wasn't that. "How do... I don't know how you know about the Stone. Professor Dumbledore was summoned to London by an urgent message from the Minister of Magic. You need not worry. The Stone is well protected. Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow. Now off to bed with you."

"He’s going to go tonight," Harry said as they climbed the stairs back to the Tower.

“What are we going to do?" Hermione asked.

"I'm going to get the Stone before they can steal it," Harry told her. "I'm going to get my dad's cloak and get passed Fluffy, and whatever else it might take."

"You're not going alone," Neville told him, his trembling voice betrayed his bold statement."We're coming with you."

Hermione nodded.

"You don't have to," Harry objected.

"Harry, we’re your friends not just when it's easy," Hermione told him.

"Fine, we go as soon as the Common Room clears," Harry told them.

Hermione spent the rest of the evening reading the same three lines in her Transfiguration text. Harry halfheartedly watched Neville play Ron Weasley to a stalemate in their chess match. Finally, the three of them were the only ones left in the Common Room. Harry waited about half an hour to go and get his Invisibility Cloak. After a second's thought grabbed the flute Hagrid gave him for Christmas.

The walk down to the forbidden corridor was tricky. They had to move slowly to make sure if they were to run across somebody nobody could see any of their shoes. Other than that the trip went relatively smoothly. They didn't run across anyone, not ever Mrs. Norris. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad.

Hermione unlocked the door to the corridor. Hagrid said Fluffy was a dog, what he failed to mention was Fluffy was a giant dog with three heads. Currently, all three heads were fast asleep on its front paws. The paws partly covered a trapdoor. Somebody had charmed a harp to play in the corner.

“Who goes first?" Neville asked.

Harry volunteered.

"No, I'll go," Hermione said stepping forward.

Neville helped her push the giant dog's toe off the door. "Good luck," he whispered.

"You too," she said and jumped through.

Harry nodded and followed. There was a snuffling sound. It occurred to him the harp had stopped playing. Harry looked up and met eyes with three snarling snouts. Harry pulled out the flute and began to play. Fluffy's eyes began to flutter shut. It wasn't another minute before he was asleep again. Harry followed his friends into the unknown.

Harry fell for what like miles before landing with a soft thump. He patted the soft organic mat. It was thick cords of vine he could feel.

"It's Devil Snare," Neville yelled from below. Herbology was probably the only class Neville was stronger than Hermione. "Relax and it will let you through."

That was easier said than done as the vines were now uncomfortably tight around Harry's chest.

"He isn't relaxing," Hermione observed.

Neville shook his head. "Devil Snare doesn't like light or heat. We need sunlight...or fire."

Hermione waved her wand a conjured a ball of blue flames, a trick she perfected for cold wintery days. Harry's landing this time around was far less pleasant as he hit the stone floor. Neville helped him to his feet.

"Thanks," Harry said dusting himself off. "It's good you're great at Herbology, Neville."

Neville shrugged. "Hermione would have figured it out."

Harry nodded, "Let's keep going."

They passed a room with a passed out troll in it.

"Glad we don't have to fight this one too," Harry remarked as they moved down the hallway.

As they walked a sound like thousands of birds flying around grew louder. The trio worked to the door it wouldn't budge, not even with Hermione's Alohamora.

Harry looked at what was flapping above then again. They weren't birds, but keys.

"We have to find the one that fits the lock," Harry surmised.

"But how?" Hermione demanded.

"We'll need brooms."

Neville handed him an old broom, "It's the only one."

Harry looked at the lock, "The keys probably an old fashioned one." He found it flying twenty feet or so above them. One of its blue wings bent. "That's it!" Harry exclaimed pointing it out to the others.

"Go, Harry," Hermione urged.

Harry chased the key through the swarm of keys. He dodged obstacles before he could wrap his fingers around the struggling bit of metal and feather. Harry flew low passing the key off to Neville to open the door.

The three walked into a dark chamber whose torches sprung to life when they stepped foot into a giant chessboard. They tried walking across but were blocked by the white's pieces.

"We have to play our way across," Neville said taking in the room. "We'll have to take place of three of the pieces on the black side. Hermione take the kingside rook, Harry queen's bishop."

"What about you?" Harry asked.

"Me..." Neville paused for a moment, "me, I'll be the queen."

Hermione giggled at the absurdity of the comment. The three took their positions, then it was a matter of waiting for white to make its move. The game was no different than normal wizard's chess. It was just as violent. Harry, Hermione, and the stone pieces followed Neville's directions to checking the king. Harry could see the problem three moves before it happened.

"Neville," Harry said getting the boy's attention.

"No Harry, it has to happen." Neville objected. "It's the fastest way possible. I have to let the queen take me so you can checkmate the king."

Harry watched frozen as his friend was knocked to the marble game board by the opposite queen's scepter. His head making an unpleasant smacking sound as it made contact. Hermione screamed. Harry yelled at he to stay in place when she started to move. Harry walked forward to checkmate the king and end the game. The king dropped his sword and they went to check on their friend. He was knocked out cold and had a nasty gash on his forehead.

"Hermione, we need to keep going. He could be taking the Stone right now." Harry urged.

Hermione followed reluctantly behind Harry. The next room was as different as the last. There was a long table with a long series of bottles lined up down the length. They stepped forward and the door they just passed through went up in purple flames, the one in front of them was engulfed in black flames.

Hermione noticed the paper sitting in front of the bottles. She read it through it twice before beginning to laugh. Harry stared at her as if she was mad.

"It's not magic, it's logic," Hermione said regaining some of her composure. "Some of the greatest wizards don't have a morsel of logic, they'd be here forever."

"Can you figure it out?" Harry asked nervously.

Hermione nodded. "Give me a minute."

She walked up and down the table several times. She muttered as she picked up and then placed a bottle back on the surface. She read through the riddle once more before handing Harry one small glass jar.

"This one will take you forward." She said.

Harry looked at at the bottle there was barely one swallow left. "There's only enough for one."

"I know. Harry, go on. You have to be the one who does this. You are the only one who can stop him." Hermione told him.

"I'm not as good as you." Harry refused.

"What books and cleverness? That's not what really matters now. Go stop him, Harry." Hermione urged.

"Get Neville help, then find Professor McGonagall. Tell her what happened. She'll know how to get hold of Dumbledore." Harry directed.

Harry watched as she took a swallow of her own potion. She shutter, "I'm ok," she reassured with Harry's look of concern. She walked through the flames before Harry took his own and passed through the black flames.

Harry was relieved to see that it was not Professor Snape standing in the room before him. Who it was standing there was slightly surprising, however, it was Professor Quirrell. He was standing in front of the Mirror of Erised.

"But," Harry objected.

"Expecting somebody else, Potter? Severus perhaps," Quirrell asked turning to look at Harry.  "Yes, he does seem more the type, always sneaking around. Whoever would suspect poor st-stuttering, bumbling Professor Quirrell with him around. He never trusted me, he was always suspicious, checking on me, never leaving me alone. He didn't realize I was never alone. Now, how does this work? I can see myself holding the Stone. Why don't I have it?" Quirrell mumbled to himself.

Harry looked passed him trying to find a way out. What could he do?

"I don't understand," Quirrell repeated. "Master?"

"Use the boy," a ghostly voice hissed.

Where was it coming from?

"Potter come here," Quirrell demanded.

Harry didn't move. Quirrell waved his hand and suddenly Harry moved toward him and stopped in front of the mirror.

"What do you see, Potter?"

Harry stared at his reflection. It was very different from the last time he looked in it; it was as if he was looking into any other mirror. What did he want more than anything? To get the Stone and prevent Quirrell from taking it. Harry's reflection smiled. Harry felt a small weight drop into his pocket.

"What do you see, Potter?" Quirrell repeated.

"Gryffindor just won the House Cup, I'm taking it from Dumbledore," Harry said.

"He lies," the voice whispered. "Let me speak with him."

"My Lord, you're not strong enough," Quirrell told the voice.

"Let me see him," the voice harsher this time.

Quirrell began to unwrap his turban. He didn't have hair under it. No, he had a misshapen face on the back of his head, the eyes were cold and red, the nose slits like a snake. It may have been the scariest thing Harry had seen.

"Harry Potter," the face of Lord Voldemort said, "I have not always been like this. After the spell backfired I was left barely alive, shadow and vapor, less than the meanest ghost, but I survived. I gathered my strength. I only had form when I share a body, but I have always been able to find hosts, animal or man. Quirrell has been drinking unicorn blood, making me stronger.”
"When Quirrell found me in the forest of Albania on his travels I dissuade him of his foolish notions of good and evil. There is no such thing, there is only power. Your parents failed to see that. They died begging for their lives."

"Liar!" Harry yelled.

"True. Your father battled me bravely. He died trying to defend you and your mother and failed. Your mother did not need to die. She could have lived but chose to die. You can join me, Potter, become great.”

“Never!" Harry said trying to run away.

"When you give him the Stone in your pocket I will be able to rebuild a body for myself. Now give it here, Potter."

Quirrell waved his hand and Harry tripped. With another wave Harry moved back toward Quirrell. The man grabbed hold of his ankle, both Harry and Quirrell screamed. Quirrell's hands were covered in red boils.

"Master, what's happening?" Quirrell whined.

"Grab him! Take the Stone!" Voldemort ordered.

Quirrell tried again, but he let go instantly. Harry realized this was his chance. He turned grabbing hold of the professor's face. He just needed to hold on, just a little longer. Quirrell couldn't get the Stone. Quirrell couldn't...

Harry woke up confused. He was in a brightly lit room, lying in a bed. How did he get here? How long had he been here? He tried to sit up, he needed his glasses.

"Welcome back, Potter," Professor Snape greeted coolly.

Harry lay back down maybe this was just a dream and he was still in the chamber with Voldemort and Quirrell.

"Feigning sleep will not get you out of this, Potter. " The professor warned, he was closer now. Harry could feel him standing over his bed.

"Potter," the man repeated.

Harry cracked an eye open. The scowl was deeper than he had ever seen it. It was accompanied by a fire so hot Harry could feel it. He had never been in more trouble in his life, not even after he set that boa constrictor loose on Dudley's birthday. Harry gulped.

"What sort of idiotic Gryffindor notion led you to be here, Potter," Professor Snape demanded.

"I...sir?" Harry asked confused.

“What happened in the chamber, Potter? Why were you there in the first place?"

"Oh," Harry mumbled. "We knew somebody was going to try and steal the Stone."

The professor raised one eyebrow in disbelief, "You took it upon yourselves, three first years, to protect the Stone from some unknown force? A stone which I might add was already protected by multiple layers of enchantments by some of the greatest witch and wizards of the modern era?"

Harry nodded. "We tried to tell Professor McGonagall that somebody was going to steal it, but she wouldn't believe us. With Professor Dumbledore gone we knew You-Know-Who was going to steal it. We had to do something."

"You did not." Professor Snape snapped. "When will you get it through your thick head, Potter? The world is not for you to save. You nearly died. Your mother's sacrifice would mean very little if you don't live to sit your O.W.L.s!"

Harry twirled a finger idly on the bed clothes. "Yes, sir."

"For your and your little friends' obtuse behavior I'm taking fifty points."

"Fifty!" Harry repeated.

"Each."

Harry's heart sank through the floor all the way to the entrance hall three floors below. There was no way Gryffindor could come back from that. Maybe with the Quidditch match? When was that? It was then Harry realized he still didn't know how long had passed since the chamber and how he got from there.

"Sir," Harry began to ask, but his teacher was quicker.

"If you desire to know the rest of what happened with the Dark Lord, I will leave you. The Headmaster wishes to speak with you. I am sure he will willingly answer any of your ridiculous questions."

“Yes, sir."

"I will leave you with this, Potter." The man came to stand so his face was mere inches from Harry, the man's voice was a deadly whisper. “If I ever hear of you doing something this foolhardy again, you will wish I never came for you on that pile of rocks. Your time at the Dursleys will seem like a Sunday walk in the park compared to your life at school."

Harry nodded in understanding. He would do his best to never do something like this again. He never again wanted to see that hurt and angry expression on his professor's face.  The man nodded his acknowledgment and stood. Without another word to Harry, he headed off the ward, passing the headmaster on is way in. Harry watched as the two exchanged a few words before resuming their previous courses.

"Ahhh, Harry it's good to see you awake," Dumbledore said taking a seat in the chair next to Harry's bed. "Miss Granger and Mr. Longbottom will also be relieved to see you awake. They have barely left your side in last three days. What happened between you and Quirrell is a secret, so naturally, the whole school knows."

"It's been three days?" Harry asked.

"Yes, my boy. You are very lucky to be here at all." Dumbledore told him. "If we had not found you when we did it may have been too late."

"The Stone," Harry said.

"Not the Stone, you, Harry. We might have lost you. The Stone is safe, you were able to stop him. I've had a talk with Nicolas we have agreed it would be best if the Stone was destroyed."

"But without the Stone, he'll..." Harry couldn't finish his statement.

"Die," Dumbledore finished for him. "Yes, but when you have lived as long and full of a life as Nicolas, dying will be like going to sleep after a long day, a very long day."

"Sir, why couldn't Quirrell get the Stone from the mirror and why couldn't You-Know-Who touch me?" Harry asked.

"Call him by his name, Harry, Lord Voldemort. Fear in a name only increases fear in the thing itself. The Mirror was enchanted so only a person who wanted the Stone, but not to use it could retrieve it." Dumbledore leaned in and conspiratorially whispered, "Between the two of use, that was one of my more brilliant ideas, and that is saying something." He straightened back up and continued, "When your mother gave her life to protect you it left a mark."

Harry raised a hand to the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, but the old man shook his head. "No, this mark is an invisible one. It was love, Harry. As simple and wonderful as that is, Voldemort cannot understand it. You can not imagine the power of something you do not understand."

"Professor Snape is angry with me," Harry observed.

"Oh quite," Dumbledore agreed. "He was the first teacher Miss Granger ran across. He knew even before she spoke where you had gone. You owe him your life, my boy."

Harry looked down at the sheets embarrassed. He waited another moment to ask a question that had bothered him for months, "Why does Professor Snape hate my dad so much?"

Dumbledore smiled, "The professor and your father's relationship was rather like yours and young Mr. Malfoy. And then James did something unforgivable, he saved Severus' life."

Harry frown. "I don't understand."

"Perhaps it is something to ask Severus, at another time, obviously. Now, I must be going or Madam Pomfrey will ban me." Dumbledore stood, but stopped spotting a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, he picked it up and looked to Harry in invitation, the boy nodded. "I had the misfortune of running across a vomit-flavored one in my youth; since then I have quite lost my fancy for them. But I think I will be safe with a nice toffee," he said popping a small caramel colored bean into his mouth. He smacked his lips a few times, "Alas, earwax."

Harry spent the next several days in the Hospital Wing, kept company by a long string of visitors. Madam Pomfrey banned Fred and George Weasley who tried to bring Harry a toilet seat, Hagrid came the first day, face streaked with tears, feeling horribly guilty. What he gave Harry on his visit was probably the greatest single gift had ever received, except for maybe his cloak. It was a photo album with pictures of his parents.

Madam Pomfrey released him from the Hospital Wing in time for the departing feast. Harry wasn't as excited as he thought he would be. Hermione and Neville told him how mad his fellow Gryffindors with the loss of points. Since classes had ended and Gryffindor lost the Quidditch Cup, there was no chance to make up the loss. They had gone from being in the lead and winning the House Cup, taking it from Slytherin who held it for the last five years, to last place.

Still, Harry joined his fellows in the Great Hall. The decoration were all done in green and silver, a large Slytherin banner hung over the head table. Harry wished he slap the smug look off of Malfoy's face. Professor Snape too looked overly proud.

Silence fell as Dumbledore stood, "Another year gone, I understand it is time the House Cup needs awarding and the points stand as thus, Gryffindor in fourth place, three hundred and twenty-two points; third place Hufflepuff with three hundred and sixty; in second place is Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six, and lastly, in first place Slytherin with four hundred and seventy-two." There were some scarce applauses as the victors were announced.

"Yes, well done Slytherin, but I feel there have been some recent events that need to be taken into account. First, to Mr. Neville Longbottom fifty points for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years." Neville went scarlet. He had never earned more than five points for their house.

"Second, to Miss. Hermione Granger for her cool of intellect under extreme pressure, I award Gryffindor fifty points." Hermione hid her face in her arms, so overwhelmed with emotion.

"To Mr. Harry Potter," the headmaster continued, Hermione's head popped up curiously, "for unspeakable nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor sixty points."

"We've won," Hermione whispered.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, we are in order of some new decorations." With a clap of his hands the green and silver turned to red and gold, the snake became a rampant lion. The cheers in the hall were deafening. That was except for the Slytherins. Malfoy took off his hat and slammed it to the table. Professor Snape looked as if he was forced to swallow something, particularly foul tasting.

"Look at Snape's face," Ron pointed out. "I might worry about him hexing you if I were you, Harry."

Harry looked up at the Potions Master. Ron was right if he didn't know the man better, he would worry about a jinx finding him. Harry only shrugged. If possible, the scowl only got deeper.

The next morning the post arrived as normal. Hedwig, Harry’s snowy owl, the one he received from Hagrid on his birthday, came in carrying two letters for Harry; one from the Dursleys confirming they would be at King's Cross that afternoon to meet the train; the next labeled not to be read until aboard the train. Harry tucked it into an inside pocket to do as he was told.

Harry forgot about the letter until after the lunch trolley had passed. He removed a piece of parchment containing a series of numbers in Professor Snape's spidery scrawl. Harry frowned, but read on,

• "This is my phone number, if the Muggles become unbearable, ring me. This is to be used under extreme circumstances only. SS"

There was a smaller envelope inside, this one contained photographs and another note.

• "I was informed you recently received a collection of pictures of your parents. The oaf failed to ask me, so I am sending the enclosed for your album."

Harry removed the one on top, it was his mother. She was about Harry's age, dressed in a sundress, her long red hair flying behind her as she swung on a swing set in a Muggle play park. Harry smiled contentedly as he went through the rest. Most were just of Harry's mother, one had Aunt Petunia as well, the one Harry liked best was of Professor Snape and his mum a few years older than Harry now, sitting under a large oak tree on the edge of the Black Lake. This unexpected gift gave him the boost his spirits needed to face a summer with the Dursleys.