In the minutes that followed, the sound of concrete crumbling and smashing filled the air, as Ron continued to shout orders at the chess pieces.

Eventually however, the abated, leaving nothing behind but a tense silence that hung in the air.

Harry glanced between Ron and the remaining white figures on the other side of the board, frowning.

 “Wait a minute…”

He remembered Professor Snape teaching him this part. It had been a rainy evening, chilly. But it had been cosy in the professor’s quarters, the two of them sharing the comfortable arm chair in front of the fire, Harry’s head resting against his shoulder as he had explained the finer rules of chess to the boy…

“You understand right, Harry?” Ron asked. “Once I make my move, the Queen will take me. Then you’re free to check the King.”

 “No! Ron, no!” Harry cried.

 “What is it?” Hermione asked, her lack of interest in Wizard’s Chess more evident than ever.

 “He’s going to sacrifice himself,” Harry explained.

 “No you can’t! There must be another way!”  

 “Do you want to stop Quirrell from getting the Stone or not?” Ron asked. “Harry, it’s you that has to go on – I know it. Not me, not Hermione – you!”

And with that, he turned to look at the Queen in front of him, swallowing hard.

 “Knight to H3.”

Slowly but surely, the horse that Ron sat astride moved across the board.

The Queen moved closer and drew her sword, smashing the horse and sending Ron flying toward the ground in the process.

 “Ron!” Harry cried.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione, poised and ready to run to their friend’s aid.

 “No! Don’t move!” he called. “Don’t forget, we’re still playing.”

She nodded, remaining in her square as Harry stepped into another.

 “Checkmate!”

The sword fell from the King’s hands with a clatter.

A pause – as if the two of them were waiting to make sure the game was definitely over.

And then they both ran to Ron’s side. The red-head was breathing, but seemed to be out cold.

 “Take care of Ron,” Harry told Hermione. “Then, go to the owlery – send a message to Dumbledore. And…”

 “What is it?” 

 “Can you tell Professor Snape I… I’m sorry?” he asked.

 “You can tell him yourself, once you’ve got the Stone,” she said, firmly.

 “Please, Hermione. It’s important,” Harry pleaded. “Tell him sorry, and tell him thank you.”  

 “What does it mean, Harry? ‘In dreams, truth’? I know you know,” she said, softly.

He hesitated before speaking again.

 “There was a reason I was drawn to Professor Snape when I came to Hogwarts. There was a reason I wanted to get to know him…”

Hermione watched him, listening intently.

 “All of the time I lived with the Dursleys… as I was growing up… I had these dreams,” he told her. “Mostly when I was sick, or when I was upset about something…”

 “What were they about?”

 “A man. He used to visit me… take care of me,” Harry said – and for the first time, he didn’t feel quite so stupid saying the words out loud. “The man… I think it was Professor Snape.”

Hermione frowned. “So you think the dreams were…?”

 “I don’t think they were dreams at all,” Harry said, his voice soft.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

 “I’ll tell him,” Hermione said, eventually. “And you can tell him, when this is all over. You’ll be okay, Harry. You’re a great wizard – you really are.”

 “Not as good as you,” he said.

She smiled. “Me? Books and cleverness? There are more important things. Friendship, and bravery. And family. So be careful, Harry. Please.”

Standing up, Harry nodded, heading toward the final door.

 OOOOOOO

Severus Snape strode through the corridors of the castle at pace, flanked on either side by the headmaster and the deputy headmistress.

 “Minerva,” Dumbledore said eventually, as they reached the main entryway. “Perhaps you could fetch the others? Filius and Pomona, Rolanda and Sybill. And perhaps Poppy, too. Tell them that their presence is required on the third floor corridor at once.”

Nodding, she turned in the opposite direction.

 “Severus? Perhaps it would be wise for us to wait until our colleagues join us?” he suggested, stopping the potions master in his tracks.

 “Given the circumstances, Albus, I think it would be prudent for us to deal with the situation immediately,” he said, agitated.

 “I understand, Severus. But the quickest way through the enchantments guarding the Stone will be achieved if the creators of those charms are present,” the headmaster told him. “Whilst your concern for our students is admirable, in this case, I believe it best to bide our time.”

 “Bide our…? You would suggest such nonsense? Whilst my child is in danger?” Snape hissed.  

Dumbledore did not respond, but instead, gave him a warm smile.

 “Is this funny to you, Albus?”  he demanded.

 “Not at all, my boy. Quite the opposite. It is touching, however, that you have come to think of Harry as such,” Dumbledore said.

Spinning on his heel, Severus Snape continued towards the third floor corridor. Time would wait for no man, and certainly not for that imbecile Trelawney to decide that the planets were sufficiently enough aligned for them to take on a Dark Lord.

OOOOOOO