The Forbidden Corridor

He glides through the corridors with an impatience born of teaching half-witted students how to make the Draught of Living Death when all they are capable of is producing a brew that will barely render a field mouse unconscious.

His boots click against the staircase, marking his ascent to the third floor. He doesn't consider whether he is alerting the intruder to his arrival by the noise he's making. It is only in retrospect, many hours after the incident, as he tends his bleeding leg and swears Filch to total secrecy, that he ponders whether he should have approached the situation differently. But these thoughts are not for now, and all he is concerned about at the moment, whilst every action matters and he hasn't got the gift of hindsight, is whether he reaches the forbidden corridor before the thief does, and what he will do when he gets there.

The students are being lead to their dormitories, wrapped up in cotton wool, away from the danger. And what of his colleagues? They are probably in the dungeons, looking for that dratted troll. He doesn't dwell on their predicament for long, perhaps because he isn't concerned for their safety. A mountain troll -- although undeniably strong -- would never be a match for the staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No. Snape is far more concerned about discovering how a fully-grown troll could infiltrate the castle rather than the art of catching one. Why, that 'art' is merely child's play.

If anyone has cared to notice (They hadn't. He's taken great pains to avoid attracting other people's attentions), they would have thought his behaviour strange, the way that he suddenly swept out of the Great Hall without warning or consultation. He hadn't troubled to inform his colleagues of his intentions before leaving -- not even to the great Wizard Dumbledore himself. It is not Severus Snape's style to work with others. Even when such an approach would be infinitely safer. He cares nothing for his safety.

This behaviour is not as spontaneous as it seems. He has been wondering whether someone might conspire to break into Hogwarts. It has been upon his mind ever since Flamel's wretched stone arrived in the castle, bringing with it the attention of the greediest wizards and creatures on the planet. It is not, however, any of these thieves that Snape expects to find on the third floor tonight, because they were not the reason the stone was relocated in the first place. Gringotts can protect it's customer's valuables from their sort quite well enough, thank-you very much, and since the stone has been safe in their hands for many hundreds of years, it is not a mere whim that has prompted such a change in scenery, or even a reflection on the reputation of the Wizard's bank itself. Unfortunately, the -- thing -- Albus had in mind when he decided to authorise the stone to his own keeping is of a far more dangerous persuasion than the usual kind of canaille. Hogwarts offers the best defences against dark magic's that the Wizarding World has seen and if -- if -- the stone's pursuer couldn't infiltrate Hogwarts during their most powerful state then it was unlikely that they could do so now, with all their powers depleted, and their body destroyed?

Snape has been feeling his presence for two months. He has lost count of the times -- when he is giving a student detention, or shouting at Peeves, or sitting quietly in the staff room reading a newspaper -- that he has felt the faded mark upon his left forearm suddenly erupt with pain. Whether it was the Dark Lord himself who created the furore tonight or somebody in his employ, Snape knows regardless that there is someone on the third floor, someone endeavouring to steal what is not rightly theirs. Someone that shouldn't be there at all.

It is just a feeling. But it is the feeling in his arm that makes him so damn sure.

To his ardent dismay, Snape discovers the door to the forbidden corridor has already been opened, revealing the darkness within. He quickly inspects the door -- knowing that with every moment that passes, the intruder is getting further away from him -- and is alarmed to discover which spell they used to open it.

This angers him. Alohamora is a simple spell. Snape has often caught First Years trying to use it on the Prefect's bathroom during their lunch break. It's not even particularly effective: there are better versions of the door-breaking spell than the relatively mild 'Alohamora', and if this -- this trifle of a charm -- was enough to open the door to the forbidden corridor, then it makes him wonder what Albus was thinking, not bestowing the door with some more powerful form of protection than that.

Indeed. He shakes his head, not for the first time where Albus is concerned. The Headmaster has often done strange and unexpected things which -- at a first glance -- has no logic, but eventually reaches some sort of end. He dearly hopes that this is one of these times. Snape believes that the door should be permanently sealed, but Albus is of the opinion that the stone be accessible in emergencies - to lock the stone away forever, he argues, would be akin to destroying it, and until Flamel decides otherwise, they have to respect his wishes.

Snape mutters a few curse words under his breath. He cares nothing for Flamel or his sacred stone. Perhaps once upon a time he would have taken an interest, the parallels between alchemy and potion-making aside, but he'd rather have no stone at all than allow it to become the method by which Voldemort returns to power. Snape never wanted anything to do with the blasted stone situation in the first place. If he could be anywhere right now, it would be in his office, making a list of the ingredients he needs for his latest experiment on truth serums. Merlin, he'd even rather be teaching Harry Potter and a thousand Gryffindors than spend another moment up here. He is not afraid, just tired. Tired of the deception and treachery that is rife in this world, in this school. A headache is forming and his left arm feels like it's catching on fire. There's a crick in his back and he's beginning to wish he didn't eat so much food during the feast. He'd like to have a lie-down or perhaps drink some of his own poison but rather than do any of these things Severus Snape draws his wand and ventures down the corridor.

*

The corridor is very dark. Snape slides his hand over his wand tip and breathes the word lumos into it, allowing the corridor to brighten slightly. He looks around, startled at what he discovers.

That cannot be! It is impossible! Albus had told him, had told all the wizards that were protecting the stone, that one of Hagrid's pets was guarding the trap-door! If that is the case, then where is it? The trap door lies there in front of him, vulnerable and naked, with no protector in sight! What is the meaning of this? What kind of trick has Albus pulled on him?

It was Albus's decision that no-one would know what the other Wizard's contributions were, that were protecting the stone. It was a safety measure that not everybody agreed with, but Snape is very glad it was used now. His suspicions about a certain member of staff has been growing for a few months now, and if that Wizard has, indeed, betrayed the circle and gone after the stone, Snape can at least be reassured that even without Hagrid's contribution, there are five or six other blockades ahead of him that will slow him down.

Snape is very proud of his own contribution - it is a puzzle he spent seven nights working on. The potion-making was easy but he found the riddle hard to write. He remembers all those nights he spent writing and re-writing the riddle to his own satisfaction (rhyming was never his hobby, but he had an odd desire to get it right) and he even hexed the parchment with a few 'difficulty' spells, just in case. It isn't wholly unbreakable (Albus was quite clear of his feelings on that front) but it is fiendishly difficult, and would serve the purpose of weeding out the bungling thieves from the pros if need be. Snape wonders if he's reached that far yet.

Hagrid's defence is an animal. That is all Snape knows. He doesn't really understand why a mere gamekeeper was allowed to contribute in the first place, but Hagrid had always been courteous enough and at least he could be reassured (or so he thought) by the knowledge that a great beast was guarding the trap door. Obviously, he is wrong. There didn't seem to be a monster at all.

The corridor is heavy with magic. It's almost suffocating, like drowning in somebody else's sweat. Snape shakes the feeling aside. There is no point wasting time. He strides over to the trapdoor, deciding to chase the villain through the assault course himself, it's not like he has another choice in the matter, but before he gets very far he is suddenly rebounded by an invisible field and thrown backwards across the room.

He looks around, confused, before attempting it again -- but slower this time-- so that when he reaches the same blockade, he doesn't get knocked down. He traces the invisible wall. It's a protection spell, Wizard made. He's used it often enough to recognise the form, although it isn't usually invisible. The spell is used when you need to defend yourself from attack -- create a wall between yourself and your assailant so that they cannot pass through it or harm you in any way. It doesn't last forever, although whilst it exists, it's virtually unbreakable. The spell is designed so that it vanquishes if the creator walks further than ten metres away from it. This, Snape realises, means that the intruder is still in the corridor, with him -- but invisible. Or not, as the case may be. Snape touches the air once more, finally recognising the spell that's been cast, which explains the corridor's heavy atmosphere.

"Of course..." he murmurs, raising his wand.

"Aperi!"

The room suddenly pops, and gradually falls back into place. The same, but very different, Snape looks around to assess his new surroundings. He is standing where he was before, but he is no longer alone. By commanding the corridor to reveal its true nature, he has dispelled the intruder's perception-distortion spell, revealing things as they really are. Snape is very glad that he hasn't expelled the intruder's other spell -- the protective wall -- however, because when he looks up to see what is casting a great shadow over his body, he meets the three-headed eyes of a gigantic dog -- snarling, salivating and mad-eyed standing in front of him. He instinctively takes a few steps backwards and holds out his wand to protect himself, but the wall between them remains solid, and he is quite safe. Yes ... he can see it now - just barely, he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't looked, a slight ripple of energy running across the room, keeping him on one side and the beast on the other. It paws at the wall with its huge claws, and a dull scraping noise reverberates around the room. Snape marvels at the beast, suddenly quite reassured as to the stone's safety.

The figure standing in the corner has not gone unnoticed. It was him, after all, that cast all these spells in the first place. Snape turns around to face him. He is shrouded in a purple cloak, his features indistinguishable, he holds his wand steady in his right hand. As Snape advances, he quickly sends a hex in Snape's direction.

"Incendio!"

A stream of orange light shoots across the room towards him.

With actions learned from Wizarding duels and Wizarding wars, Snape swiftly squats on the ground and rolls over, the blast of magic harmlessly hitting the ground where he was previously standing, and points his wand at the intruder with the command "Expelliarmus!"

The intruder is not such a good dueller, and the scarlet light hits him full on the chest, swinging him backwards into the wall, his wand flying across the corridor, out of reach. He slumps to the ground and the cloak falls from his face, revealing a similar coloured turban beneath it, which is propped keenly upon the wizard's head. Quirrell looks up at Snape with the courage of a muggle pensioner, cowering and whispering his name fearfully.

Snape steps forward, his wand hand tapping his arm carelessly. He is unscathed. "Yes ... I thought it'd be you." His voice is smooth, almost playful. Among the students, it is considered the calm before the storm.

The wizard turns his bright, deer-like eyes upon Snape, begging for compassion. "S-S-Severus! G-good to s-see you! I was just --"

He is cut off. "It's ... fascinating ... to see that you've recovered from your little 'feint' in the Hall so rapidly, Slatero," Snape says curtly. "I do believe you must have left before me, although how that was possible when you were sprawled unconscious on the floor, I am at a loss to say."

Quirrell clumsily picks himself up. With shaking hands, he dusts down his cloak and re-adjusts his turban. "I was j-j-just c-checking to s-see t-that the s-stone is safe ... w-we c-can't be too c-c-careful nowadays ..."

Snape nods in agreement. "You are quite right. We cannot afford to be careless in the present climate - not with a rogue troll in the locality. I gather, from your commendable enthusiasm to check on this corridor, that you have come to the same conclusions as I have? That somebody has smuggled a troll into the castle as a diversion?"

This doesn't settle well with Quirrell. He lowers his voice in comrade-like secrecy and leans in towards Snape, casting a suspicious glance around the room. "That's w-what I t-thought too, and that's w-why I c-came up here. I-I cast a spell o-on Hagrid's d-d-og to s-stop h--him attacking me w-while I c-checked everything w-was alright, a-and as I was l-leaving I h-heard s-somebody coming up the stairs, so I put t-the corridor u-under a d-distortion s-spell to make u-us look i-invisible. I-I was going to attack the trespasser myself, o-or maybe let the d-dog l-loose, but it t-turned o-out to be you. I'm g-glad."

"As am I, Slatero. I imagine it would be difficult to fend that beast off when you can see it, let alone if it were invisible. I've half a mind to turn it invisible anyway. It would be a more effective guard for the stone, that is for sure." Snape makes a small tutting sound. "It is a shame that it never had the chance to sneak its teeth into the intruder tonight."

"Y-you s-still think t-there's a intruder?" Quirrell asks slowly.

"Why, of course," Snape says silkily.

"But w-who w-would do a t-try a t-thing l-like that?"

"That is an exceedingly good question," Snape responds, "Why did you?"

Quirrell eyes suddenly boggle out of their sockets and he attempts a weak laugh. His attention quickly flickers to the other side of the room, where his wand lies, sparkling invitingly on the ground, before resting back on Snape. "I-I? S-smuggle a troll? Severus -- I didn't -- I'm n-not c-capable -- " his voice trails off into a nervous sort of giggle, and it is only when Snape slams his wand hand into the wall, half an inch from Quirrell's face, that he stops with a sudden gasp.

"I grow weary -- let us put an end to this charade. Who are you working for?"

"No body."

"I ask you again: who do you work for?"

"No body!"

"You continue to attempt deception, when I have already unmasked you! Are you really that brave?"

Quirrell shakes his head. There are tears in his eyes. "Severus, you have to believe me ... I know I'm weak, a - a coward -- you probably deserve my job better than I do -- but I'm not a traitor!"

A glint comes to Snape's cold, black eyes, and he tilts his head slightly. "No? You have broken the pact of the circle. By passing the threshold, when the Headmaster expressively forbade it, you have demonstrated your own guilt!"

"No!" Quirrell shouts. "I thought it was going to be breached! That's why I'm here -- I thought it was my job to protect the stone, moreso than everyone else, I am, the Defence Against Dark Arts teacher, after all! So I hid and waited - frightened and uncertain of how to defend myself but I waited for someone to come -- but the only person that came was you!"

Snape trains his wand on Quirrell's head with a fierce intensity. "Do not waste precious oxygen lying to me, Slatero -- you do not fool. I may not teach the Dark Arts, but I recognise deception when it's sniffling in front of me like the wreck of the wizard you are." he pauses for a moment, a faint smirk appearing across his face. "You've dropped your stutter, by the way."

Quirrell frowns, confused. After a few moments of unearthly silence, he responds, more sure than ever. "I-I t-tell you, I-I-I'm n-not w-w-working for a-a-anybody!"

Snape nods and turns away, and then suddenly turns back and picks Quirrell up by the throat, vigorously hurling him across the room in one fluid motion. Quirrell sinks into the ground, moaning pitifully. As Snape reaches for his turban to pull him back onto his feet, he feels a sudden burst of pain in his left arm and draws back, hissing.

Taking this opportunity, Quirrell clamours to his feet to try and escape, but Snape snaps his wand at him and mutters "Plumbeus", to which he sprawls back onto the ground. Snape spends a few moments in silent contemplation, looking from his left arm (which he holds tightly in his other hand) to Quirrell and back again, his face becoming darker and darker. "Voldemort ..." he spits. He looks firmly at Quirrell, and says the name again. Quirrell doesn't flinch. Instead, he seems to smile. Unable to contain himself, Snape suddenly roars with fury and rushes forward, his wand pointed directly at Quirrell's heart.

A sudden noise erupts from behind them. Snape turns in time to witness Hagrid's beast rip through the protective wall and bound across the room towards him.

He raises his wand to protect himself but the monster is too fast - it drives him into the ground, violently mauling at his leg. He cries out in agony, trying to push the brute off, but it is incensed and hungry and wild, and he is but a human, with none of its strength. He grapples for control of his wand, but the weight of the dog upon him pins him to the ground without room enough to move. He struggles against it as hard as he can, but it doesn't seem to be enough. He looks up through blurred eyes to find Quirrell standing over him with a twisted look on his face, his wand aimed at Snape's forehead. And then the moment's passed and Quirrell walks away, laughing.

Incensed, though weakened with the pain, Snape calls after him. Summoning an inner strength, he manages to wrap his fingers around his wand and push it upwards, into the animal's fleshy belly, shouting "Expelliarmus!"

The beast whimpers and stumbles backwards. It doesn't fall back anywhere near as far as Quirrell did when hit with the same spell and, it seems, it doesn't seem to have caused any lasting damage because it is back on it's feet and growling ferociously at Snape within a few seconds of his attack, but the precious few seconds the spell gives him is enough time for Snape to regain his footing and make his way to the door. He's thankful that the beast is chained to the trapdoor and cannot reach the door, because he doesn't think he can survive another attack. He half-runs, half-stumbles outside. As he locks the door behind him with the most powerful locking charm he can muster, he catches one last glance at the wild dog, its faces full of menace, blood dripping from all three of its mouths into a puddle on the floor. It snarls one last time before being plunged into darkness, and Snape returns his attentions to more important matters.

He thrusts his battered wand in the direction of the descending figure of Quirrell, who seems to have made a run for it across the third floor, and shrieks "Retraho!", to which Quirrell is suddenly flung backwards across the passageway -- back towards Snape, who kindly steps aside in time to let him smack against the locked door behind him. Quirrell doesn't hesitate in clamouring back onto his feet and training his wand on Snape who, in return, does the same.

A wave of numbness and dizziness sweeps through Snape, and he has to lean against the wall to prevent himself falling into unconsciousness. The majority of his wounds could probably be healed with one of his potions, but it will take time to brew, and he somehow needs to make it through his confrontation with Quirrell first. He tries to ignore the searing pain shooting up and down his leg, or the claw marks on his chest and face. He addresses Quirrell, hoping that his intimidating voice hasn't succumbed to the shaking that his body seems to have done.

"That you attacked me is of no personal consequence. It merely adds to my ever-strengthening case against you," he says, thankful that it hasn't. "Nevertheless, I believe that I will not be doing any harm in informing the Headmaster of your sudden, uncharacteristic interest in protecting the stone. He'll find it as fascinating as I do."

The wizard's cheeks redden at this and suddenly emboldened, Quirrell responds, "Go on then, Severus. We'll visit him together."

Snape turns to him, his eyes flashing dangerously. "And what, pray tell, are you implying?"

Before he responds, Quirrell begins to sort out his turban, which has slightly come undone at the back. The idea of making oneself look presentable in a situation like this is laughable to Snape, but he waits patiently for Quirrell to finish his vain preening anyway.

"Well lets see," Quirrell begins. A sudden calmness seems to have passed over him, and his eyes have become more dangerous than Snape's. "I have your bruises all over my body. You've threatened and beaten me when I haven't lifted a finger against you. Your marks - well ... you have no evidence to suggest that I set the Cerberus on you - protective walls have been known to extinguish themselves of their own accord, you know ... And yes, I was here before you, I admit it openly, but I'm the Defence Against Dark Arts teacher! I've every right to be here. But you ... you've no reason whatsoever. You're but a simple Potions Professor! Tell me, Severus, what's to stop me telling Albus that it was you trying to take the stone?"

Snape summons the energy to sneer, but he does waver at this slightly. Quirrell has a point. Everything that has happened so far has been conducted in such a way as to implicate himself. He came alone, immediately, after the troll was let into the castle, without informing anybody of his intentions, and in so doing, nobody is able to corroborate his story. He has tossed the turban-headed wonder around the room with all the grace of a flobberworm. He has seen Hagrid's beast, which is offence enough in Albus's eyes. He even tried to open the trapdoor. From a certain perspective, these were not the actions of an innocent man. Surely, no one would seriously believe he was trying to snatch the stone, but no one was going to believe that Quirrell was trying to snatch the stone either! The man was a bungler, the very worst of his profession, but Snape had nothing to connect him to the crime he was accusing him of. He could only offer suspicions and feelings and opinions, but that was not enough. After all his trouble, Quirrell was going to walk out of there scott-free. And Snape could do nothing about it.

Snape narrows his eyebrows. He'd have to see about that. "No," he says slowly, "You're right -- there isn't any proof -- not yet -- but I take this opportunity to warn that I am keeping my eyes on you, Slatero." He lowers his wand, as does Quirrell -- albeit tentatively. They have come to an understanding. They cannot touch each other today, but tomorrow --- is an entirely different day, with different rules of play. Perhaps tomorrow, the cards will be stacked in his favour.

Quirrell nods smugly. "As I will keep my eyes on you, Severus."

They look at each other with finality, for they know that their confrontation is over -- at least, for the night.

Suddenly, a piercing scream shatters the air around them. Snape places his wand on the palm of his hand and whispers a few words into it, watching intently as it suddenly straightens out and points to the ground below them. He glances at Quirrell. He is unable to conceal his utmost hatred and disgust from his face, but he manages to keep his voice civil when he explains, "It's a tracking spell. Your troll seems to have escaped the dungeon. We'd better capture it before it causes any more damage." Without exchanging another word, they quickly make their way down the stairs.

"It's coming from the ground floor," Quirrell murmurs. "W-we'd better wait f-for s-some backup."

Taking a distrusting glance at his foe to discover the reason for his sudden stutter, Snape discovers McGonagall hurrying down the stairs after them, looking extremely flustered. In a swift wave of his wand, Snape glamour's himself to conceal his wounds and turns to welcome her. She nods slightly, her mouth small and pensive, and without another word they continue their journey down the corridor. She doesn't seem to notice Snape's profound limp, perhaps too concerned for the students that are trapped in the bathroom with the troll to consider it, students of which Percy had only informed her were missing a few minutes ago, among them Harry Potter.

As they make their way across the ground floor, a loud dull thud escapes one of the nearby corridors, followed by a dead silence. Snape looks between Quirrell and McGonagall in wonder before they hastily storm down it, their wands firmly pointed in front of them.

***