'Maybe Flamel is still using it to keep himself alive,' said Teddy. 'So it has to be where he can get to it.'
'But then someone would
'Hush, Bulstrode, you'll wake the dead. The Stone produces the Elixir of Life once a year, so it's not like he's got to pop in to see the thing every weekend. Flamel probably heard someone was trying to get his Stone and asked the Headmaster to keep it safe for him. They're supposed to be old friends, right?'
'That's what it says on the Frog card,' Harry said. 'But I don't know, Teddy. Seems like a lot of holes in that theory.'
'All right then, how about this: Professor Dumbledore is supposed to be the most powerful wizard of his age, the one who beat Grindelwald, and the only one of whom You-Know-Who is said to be afraid. So long as the Headmaster is in residence, I wager he's got loads of warning spells and such in place so he can swoop down on anyone doltish enough to try and steal something out from under his nose.'
Teddy certainly had a point. Harry nodded, nearly satisfied. So long as Dumbledore was at Hogwarts, the Stone was safe from Quirrell and Snape and Voldemort, too.
--BETTER BE SLYTHERIN--
()The next two weeks, heading into the end of May, were a flurry of activity as they started revising for their exams in earnest. In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.
As June began, the air was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.
They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox -- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. ()
Harry did the best he could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead, which had been bothering him for days. He'd had pains like this before, but never so often. And then, the night before their last exam -- History of Magic -- Harry's had an especially dark nightmare with Voldemort as the star, where Harry got the impression that the mad wizard was ready to go after the Stone.
That next afternoon confirmed it.
Purely by chance, he heard from one of the Weasley twins that the Headmaster had been called away to London unexpectedly.
'And we had all our notes to give him about a new verse for the school song,' bemoaned Fred. Or maybe George.
'We'll just have to sing it ourselves, without adult preview,' said George. Or maybe Fred.
Dumbledore was gone! This was Voldemort's chance to steal the Stone. Harry would bet anything that Dumbledore's visit to London was only a ruse, maybe a letter sent to him by a faker, by Quirrell, perhaps, or even Snape. He'd be in for a surprise when he reached his meeting in London, Harry was sure.
Harry raced off to tell his friends what had happened, and almost collided with a tall dark figure sweeping down the central stairs. Snape!
'Good afternoon,' Snape said smoothly.
Harry stared at him.
'You shouldn't be inside on a day like this,' he said, with an odd, twisted smile.
'I was --' Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.
'You want to be more careful,' said Snape. 'Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something.'
Harry flushed, but turned to go outside.
Snape called him back. 'Be warned, Potter -- any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure your last days here are quite miserable. Good day to you.'
He strode off in the direction of the staff room.
Harry stared after him. Snape had as good as said that he knew about Harry bringing the dragon to the tower, but not only that, he was threatening Harry with dire consequences if he went out tonight, the very night Voldemort was going to go for the stone.
Snape was going to go for the stone himself tonight. Harry knew it!
'Millie!' he cried upon entering the Common Room. He spied her across the room on one of the couches and raced to her side, sliding to a stop near her elbow. 'Millie,' he repeated, his voice much softer. 'It's happening! The Old Man has left the building.'
'What?' she exclaimed, finally looking up from the tangle of cat's cradle she had strung on her fingers. 'When?'
'Just now,' he whispered. 'It was 'unexpected,' and no one knows why he's gone, just that he is. It's the perfect time, you see? To do it.'
'To get the . . . thingy, you mean?'
'Yes! We have to stop them.'
'Harry . . .' Millie looked down at her hands again for a moment. Even with the salve, it had taken days for her skin to heal completely from her last detention. 'Shouldn't we tell someone? One of the prefects, maybe? Or . . .' She hesitated, and Harry knew what she wanted to say.
