Chapter 39. The End of First Year 4/?
When our whole group came to the staff room, McGonagall, as we had expected, wasn't there. But there was someone else…
"What are you doing here?" Snape looked at us with clear irritation.
"We… uh… were looking for Professor McGonagall," Harry answered uncertainly.
"Your Head of House has more than enough to do without you, Mister Potter, so don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
"But…"
"Mister Potter, something tells me you're planning something that goes very much against the rules. And believe me, if I catch you wandering around the castle after curfew, I'll make sure no one in Gryffindor forgets your little escapade."
Harry's face began to turn slightly crimson with anger. At that point we decided he had exhausted his attempt. Grabbing him by the shoulder so he wouldn't say something he'd regret, we pulled him slightly back.
"Professor, you still haven't answered where our Head of House is. And the level of importance of our question is not something you get to decide," we spoke up through Regulus.
"Minus five points from Gryffindor for truly imperturbable insolence," the man smirked before finally answering with a hint of contempt. "Professor McGonagall was forced to take on part of the Headmaster's duties and has left the castle."
"McGonagall was clearly not happy about it" — we couldn't help picturing her irritably agreeing to go to some fake meeting in the Headmaster's place, while he himself apparently was waiting for the show to begin.
"I see. Thank you," we said thoughtfully, before tugging everyone toward the exit.
No one dared to speak until we'd gone far enough away, and then it was like a dam burst.
"Did you see that snake?! And you expect me to believe he's not involved in stealing the Philosopher's Stone? And it's Quirrell instead of him?"
"I don't trust him either," Harry frowned. "I think we should keep an eye on them."
"That's not a problem. We'll handle the surveillance ourselves."
"Alright," Harry nodded, before suddenly grabbing his forehead with a soft hiss.
"What is it?" we asked, slightly worried. To our shame, this was actually the first time this year we'd seen his scar hurting.
"The scar hurts. I'm sure it's a warning." Looking more closely at his face, we could see he'd gone pale, and determination flashed in his eyes.
"Just don't do anything stupid and don't try to go to that corridor alone. Out of all of us, only the two of us have any real chance of standing up to an adult wizard," we said, looking closely at the boy. "If we go, we go together."
"But we won't all fit under the cloak, there are five of us," Harry began, clearly starting to build himself up into a sacrificial hero. With that attitude, in canon he didn't need any preparation at all — he would have thrown himself under Voldy's Avada anyway.
To cut off all possible arguments at once, we simply cast disillusionment charms on ourselves for clarity. "Hermione and we don't need the Invisibility Cloak."
"Then what's the point of my cloak at all?" Harry muttered, staring through us.
"Your cloak gives better concealment, but for a simple night walk this should be enough. However, let me warn you right away: even under the cloak, try to avoid Snape; his nose is like a bloodhound's."
"No wonder, with that nose of his," Ron snorted.
That's how we finally parted ways. Hermione headed to the library. Harry and Ron stayed in the common room and, at our insistence, played chess. It confused them a bit, of course, but they didn't argue; they needed something to do while they waited anyway. And we sat on Regulus's bed, watching Quirrell on the Marauder's Map. There really was no need to hurry, since we had absolutely no doubt he had no chance of getting the Stone out of the Mirror. And, in fact, it was even to our advantage to go only after he passed the obstacle course. In that case, most of his attention would be occupied by the Mirror, which meant our chances of successfully carrying out our plan would be higher.
Why all this anxiety if we had already predicted that everything would be fine? Well, we should start with the fact that this prediction was purely in the sense that we'd been able to verify that in the summer we would all still be alive and well, from which we concluded that everything would work out. As for McGonagall, that information came from our memories of canon, where there was that moment with the trio going to their Head of House, and we simply realized that she just wouldn't be there; this time, unfortunately, we failed to summon such detailed knowledge, and instead got more like hints. So we still have to think a bit about how to develop our gift somehow, because it's far too useful for our future experiments — especially for spotting mistakes. Mistakes that under normal circumstances could be fatal, without having to test everything on someone else and risk ending up in Azkaban or, worse, letting a Dementor devour your soul. We never understood why death row inmates even let it get that far. The soul is a chance for a new beginning, after all, and Dementors take that away. In that case, it would be better to end your own life than lose your soul.
"We're getting way off track," we sighed in unison.
"Better to think once more about how to give Voldy a proper lullaby."
We drew the bed curtains and, by wandlight, once again took out the Headmaster's gift, rereading what we already knew by heart, hoping to find some meaning in things that sometimes seemed to have none at all — some passages were described far too philosophically.
***
"My lord, are you sure this is the right moment? Snape, he's watching me, and McGonagall's disappearance can't be a good sign," the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, unlike his usual stammering, addressed someone invisible.
"I can't wait any longer!" a harsh voice suddenly answered him, and the man in the cloak began to shake from the pain.
"But, my lord, it's a trap," Quirrell groaned through the spasms.
"Then we will increase our chances of success. Go to the second floor, we still have time."
"The second floor? What's there?"
"You dare doubt me!?" Quirrell doubled over from the pain.
"N-no, my lord," the man wheezed.
"Good. Remember this day, servant, for I will reveal to you one of the greatest secrets of Hogwarts, as well as the legacy of Salazar Slytherin himself!"